zika45

Hmm, it’s been a while since I posted here. Logins and screen names now. So, you may be wondering, what have I been doing to occupy my time other than reading and posting on Fodors? Well, I would answer, I have just moved to Edinburgh from Boston with a 6 month work permit, and have started a new, temporary, life. I got here, oh… 3 weeks ago? Jan 29th. I had a one-way flight with Northwest that flew from Boston to Amsterdam to Glasgow for $180, including taxes. (I booked it through studentuniverse.com) I don’t remember many juicy details from that trip, so I’ll have to bulk up on them later in the report. The Amsterdam airport is clean, and the toilets don’t flush until you open the door. I figured this out by asking someone waiting in line. Very embarrassing. Anyway, from Glasgow I took a bus to Edinburgh – only 3 pounds! – and got to my B&B around 5pm. I stayed at the Kingsview Guesthouse (in Tollcross) for 28 pounds per night w/ a private bathroom. It was fine for the first two nights to relieve jetlag, but nothing especially noteworthy besides the owner who was as sweet anything. After that I booked myself into the Royal Mile Backpackers for 11 pounds per night. I adored staying there. The people are wonderful, it’s small, relatively quiet, centrally located, and about 78 degrees! And, I don’t know if this is usual in hostels, but you can have a basket in the kitchen to keep your food. I came over with the BUNAC Work in Britain program, which has been great. Very helpful, and very sweet people. I recommend it to any college kids who want to work abroad.

zika45

Ok, so that’s kind of the boring stuff about the trip. The night I got here I just crashed, but the second night I decided to grab a copy of The List (entertainment guide), and go find some live rock music. Let me tell you, there is little in this world that can compare to a live Yngwie-style guitar solo. Mmm. Yeah, but I didn’t find that. Anyway, I ended up going to a pub/club called Bannerman’s (on Niddry St off the Royal Mile). After ordering my very first half-pint of Guiness – I am nothing close to even a moderate drinker – I went to the venue section of the pub, and the doorman let me in free. So of course I went back the next night. I talked to him for a while (a good guy), and managed to slip him a copy of my CV (resume) in case the pub was hiring. So the next night (Saturday) I went with an Aussie girl I met in the hostel to a metal club called Studio 24. I honestly don’t think I have ever seen as many physical manifestations of angst in one place as I did that night. But the night was worthwhile: before we left, I got to watch one very large, very talented young man headbanging to a metal remix of that opening song from The Breakfast Club, all by himself on the dance floor. Wow. So during the next few days I got a call from the doorman from Bannerman’s, saying that if I liked, I could come interview for bar staff. I accepted immediately. Now, being under the legal drinking age in my home country, I have never had any experience with bar work. In fact, I’ve never a serving job of any type. This was blatantly obvious on my CV during the interview. The manager brought it up, and very calmly I told him that “I was born to be a bar wench, and thus need no experience.” He laughed, and decided to give me a trial run. Evidently I haven’t screwed up too much, because I am still working there. Anyway, at the end of the interview he told me that bartenders were required to wear a special shirt that bore the name of the bar, which he would give to me, but that I could wear anything I liked on “my bottom half.” Now, being a bit nervous, I forgot everything anyone ever told me about language barriers between Americans and Brits, and asked him if I could come in “just wearing pants.” For all those who don’t know, over here “pants” refers to “underwear,” not trousers. Whew. Two different languages. I tell ya. So that was mildly embarrassing. But like I said, I still have the job.

zika45

As far as jobs go, I am STILL hunting for a grueling, not-very-much-fun office type job to fill my days. I’ve had a few offers, but all would have cost me about half a days’ wages to get there and back, so I turned them down. I had some ugly interview experiences with these agencies too. The first interview went well enough. The second one I was almost late to, because I had bought some thigh-high stockings from Jenner’s, and the damn things started falling down when I was about 300 yards from my flat. I ducked into a building that was being renovated, and the construction workers let me go into one of the abandoned rooms and pull them up. (Much more courteous, I should say, than I would expect from Americans.) 100 yards later and they began falling again. So this time I practically forced my way into a conference room in a bank, and began taking my knee-high boots off, followed by socks, and finally the misbehaving stockings, all to the complete bewilderment and concern of a bank staff member who kept worriedly looking back into the main section of the bank, for her manager I presume. At any rate, the interview went well, even with bare knees. The third agency interview was horrible. I have a cold, and the symptom-relief medicine here doesn’t, apparently, want to work with my system. So I spent the entire interview speaking in a Fran Drescher style voice and dabbing at my Rudolph red nose with a disgusting tissue. Fortunately it was over soon enough. Temp agencies are no fun in February. (Very unlike, I am sure, how thrilling they are in the busier months.) But I found a large room in a gorgeous flat, centrally located, with broadband internet connection, and three lovely flatmates, for less money than many less desirable flats I visited. So I am happy.

zika45

As I am sure many know, the six nations rugby tournament has begun. Last Sunday was the Ireland v. Scotland match, and it was held in Edinburgh. I, very luckily, got off work early that afternoon. So that night one of my flatmates and I went to Biddy Mulligan’s (an Irish bar on… Grassmarket perhaps?). Well there was a terrible line, so we went across the street and had a drink in another bar. But after being accosted by an older man who first told me I reminded him of his daughter – who is NINE – and then tried to kiss us both, we left, and waited in line for several minutes at Biddy Mulligan’s. Inside was absolutely insane. A selection of the Irish rugby team (the victors of that day’s match) showed up, and we all partied with them. I ended up dancing with three man about twice my size each, jumping around in general celebratory craziness. Not being up to par, we decided to retire around 11pm, and left to go back to the first bar and say a goodnight to a friend who works there. On the way out we met up with the entire band of large Irishmen, a selection of whom I had danced with earlier. They tried to persuade us to barhop with them, (“We don’t want to have sex, we just want to dance!”) but the invitation wasn’t good enough. After trying to follow my flatmate through the tangle of people back in the first bar, my path was cut short by a man who put his arm around my waist and slurred, “I am the best kisser in Ireland.” Before I knew what was happening, I was being kissed by who I hope is not the best kisser in Ireland. How odd. So a day or two later I was talking with a friend of mine from high school who I am meeting up with in Dublin for the 4 days preceding St. Patrick’s Day. (I am staying till the 18th, however.) I began telling her that she should expect some friendliness from the inebriated Irishmen on our trip, and she said “Just as long as they don’t touch me.” I laughed. I will laugh again when we go out in Dublin. Granted, the selection of men I encountered could be wildly misrepresentative of so-called “friendliness” in drunken Irish men, but I could be right too. In which case I will laugh if she encounters the “best kisser in Ireland.”

zika45

I don’t know that I can write much more at present. Or, perhaps, that anyone wants to read more. Well, if I remembered any of Scottish greetings/cheers that my inebriated customers have taught me, I would end with one. But instead, a mere Good Night.

bettyk

zika, I thought you had to have a job BEFORE you could get a work permit? Am I missing something?

PatrickLondon

There is some special reciprocal deal for working holidays for young people, I believe. Wasted on them, what about us middle-aged people, I say <g>

Scarlett

Well, zika I am enjoying this and I do hope you continue writing!<BR>It is always amazing and wonderful to me that some people are so brave as to just pick up and go live somewhere, get a job and experience life! Good for you!! <BR>I am waiting to hear more~

zika45

A work permit after a job? Sounds like trying to get a teaching position in the states - you need experience to get anything, so you're screwed unless you know someone. Other countries, like Austrailia, NZ, Canada, Ireland, perhaps some others, can do a once-in-a-lifetime 2 year working holiday I believe. I didn't realize that was restricted to kids only though. But either way, that doesn't apply to Americans. The only way I could get one, and for 6 months at the longest, was to go through BUNAC, and you do have to be a student (under 27 too I think) to do that. My permit runs out right before the Fringe Festival begins, which I suppose is both good and bad. It will make me return home and spend a good month or so with my family and friends before going back to college, and I don't really like crowds anyway... (rationalizing to make myself feel better.) But I've had quite a few Scots tell me I should apply as an Asylum Seeker, that I'm trying to escape a dictatorship that threatens my human rights. Too bad they're completely right in their assumptions...

SugarPlum

Zika, I arrived in Edinburgh on 2/16, the day of the Scotland/Ireland match. Much to my delight, most of the male Scottish fans were dressed in the Famous Grouse jerseys and kilts! That night, we went to a pub on Rose Street (Brecks?) where I saw a girl I had gone to high school with 20 years ago, in Virginia. Small world. Anyway, we stayed until 2/20, and enjoyed your current home city very much -- weather was sunny and warm every day, the Scots were friendly and welcoming, and I do love the cider! Enjoy your stay -- I only began to travel in my 30s, and regret not doing something like what you're doing in my youth.