And we ended our trip back in Edinburgh, inexplicably pronounced Ed-in-burr-uh. I repeatedly said this wrong, as if it rhymed with Pittsburgh, which amused Jeremy as much as my habit of trying to enter the wrong side of the car.
We came into Edinbur-uh late on our first night, just long enough to meet Edna and Forbes, the owners of our bed and breakfast who helped orient us, gave us ample warning about the risk of death we faced in venturing to Skye, and escorted us to their favorite Indian place where they translated words like muckle, tatties, and neeps for us. (large, potatoes, turnips) But we got to revisit them on our way out of town and to see more of the city. And it's a pretty fabulous place; it has a great castle built upon an ancient volcano in the middle of the city, really lovely rooftops, free admission to the National Gallery, and people are incredibly sweet and chatty with strangers.
