Pigeons in Scotland

During my first visit to Edinburgh, Scotland, I was unfortunately and regretfully, pooped upon. Beware pigeons! The sidewalk was crowded with tourists, hotel guests, and others waiting for taxis and Ubers when I suddenly felt a cold, wet sensation on the crown of my head. My brain calculated it must be a giant raindrop, but it wasn't raining. Or was it? Our Uber arrived and my four children, heavy laden with backpacks, and my mother-in-law, always holding little hands, filed in. My hand moved to the crown of my head, and there it was- brown goo. I later learned that old bird excrement is white; fresh is brown. Lovely.

The spire of St Giles Cathedral drew closer as we inched through traffic, me frantically using all types of sanitizers and wet wipes on the way. As one of the many towering landmarks in the city of Edinburgh, St Giles’ unique crown spire, along with the majesty of Arthur's Seat, the Sir Walter Scott monument, and Edinburgh castle make this city one of the most unique and compacted cities in Europe. Scotland is part of the United Kingdom, but the landscape, people, and fashion is worlds apart from neighboring England. It's louder, edgier, and more raw than proper tea and crumpets. 

Our Uber arrived in plenty of time to find our seats for the concert at St. Giles, but all I cared about was hot water and soap…and all the diseases that birds carry. As shameful as it was, I blazed into the 900-year-old cathedral to find the loo and all things antibacterial. The loo was quintessential European- tiny sink, tiny toilet, no frills, but thank goodness there was soap to be found.

Now clean, I emerged into St. Giles and gazed up at the intricate engravings, archways, stained glass, and stone walls. I wondered how many people had sat in this very spot; people arriving by horse and carriage, or during times of war, those here to witness holy matrimonies, or how many times children had been hushed in these very pews. It was surreal to be in a building that was older than my country. 

Small children can only sit for so long at a Bach concert, so we left before the last two songs were played. We stepped outside to meet the Scottish rain and quickly found a small awning to gather under. Umbrellas were unsheathed, all except mine when I realized, "My bag!!! I left it under my chair!" With promises of a future meeting spot, I returned inside the cathedral, my wet sneakers forcing me to walk a little slower than the swift in-and-out I wished to make.

“Sorry, so sorry,” I repeated to people standing against the wall. I knew they remembered me from leaving two minutes earlier. That rude woman with her brew of children. Did you see her when she first came in? A crazy look in her eye with bird feces in her hair I imagined them judging me. My bag sat waiting for me, a miracle, and I made the mistake of making eye contact with an elderly couple. The woman smiled at me, but I felt the man was stern. I wanted to explain myself, but I smiled instead, thanking the woman with a quiet nod for showing me grace. The tall soprano sang her last note just as I retrieved my bag and I slowly filed out of the cathedral in a sea of people. The fresh air, the rain, was a welcome. So was soup and half a bottle of shampoo.