Hollywood Paris?!? ... Oh... You said 'Holyrood Palace'

So after a lovely couple of days in Cambridge, (where I was constantly spoilt with Ellie's cooking), I parted ways with Josh and Ellie, but not before I

a) became the first person to break a piece of their wedding China set... *sigh*

and

b) they took me to lunch at a very picturesque pub called 'The Plough', right next to the River Cam. Or the Cam River. I forget what it's called.

A bottle of rose between us, and some lovely cottage pie (yummm) on the banks of the River Cam, was luuuuuuverly.

Ellie and Josh convinced me to start a restaurant/food blog in conjunction with this blog.So, stay tuned, I am in serious consideration because I think all the 'food porn', (so to speak) on my camera needs to be exhibited somewhere. And I will ATTEMPT to write about the food, and my impressions of the restaurants.

After we concluded lunch, and a little deliberation as to whether we had time for some pudding (Everything dessert in the UK is referred to as Pudding. Whereas in Indonesia, pudding is an agar jelly derived dessert with custard poured on top. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, Stop the train! Stop THE Train! I MUST HAVE PUDDING!!"), they drove me to the train station, and in true Rani tradition, we were cutting it fine for time.

Ellie got me to the train station on time, however, I did almost miss it, due to my curiosity about 'Prawn Cocktail' flavoured Chips, and wanting to capture, not one, but two brands of the damn things on my camera. In my search for a thirst quencher, I chose Strawberry Ribena, from a fridge where sugary juice imitation drinks and sports energy drinks outnumbered spring water, 5:1. I boarded the train, and 2 station transfers and 5 hours later, I was in Edinburgh.

From Cambridge to Ely, I sat next to a girl who worked in London but came from Ely. She worked in research for the Defence Department at their local hospital, for returned soldiers and mental illnesses. She was nice.

Ely to Peterborough, I sat infront of two toffee little teenage girls, wearing pearls and polo, talking about what model of Blackberry phones they were going to buy their boyfriends, and what they were going to sell on ebay that weekend. Meh.

I didn't mind riding the train; admittedly, the scenery was scenic (especially when the train was going through Scotland), however, the train seats were deceivingly uncomfortable. The carriages looked modern but they they were a bit stuffy, and from the untrained eye, the seats looked like the were an ergonomically obsessed person's dream, but they were awkward to lean back into, sit upright in, and slouch in.

I had purchased a 5 pound food voucher over the internet, for 4 pounds. I had bought it in Indonesia, when I had no idea how much anything cost. I thought 5 pounds might have gotten me a spring water and maybe a packet of tic tacs. When I got to the carriage with the bar in it, I asked for a bottle of spring water, and when I tried to pay for it with my voucher, he said I couldn't get change, and I would have to keep buying stuff to use up the voucher.

"Ok, how about a packet of cookies."
"Errm, yes that takes you to 2 pounds."
"Ok, add some cheese and onion chips then."
"3 pounds."
"A twix?"
"Just take a mars bar too." he said, and threw all these items in a shopping bag.

I was gobsmacked. I had just spent $10 on enough junk food to feed a ravished boy scout troop in the midst of a blizzard. Luckily, a little girl was getting on the train with her dad, crying her eyes out.

"What's with all the crying then?" The bar attendant asked her, pinching her cheeks.
Her father rolled his eyes, and said, " She's sick of trains. She liked the first one, but not anymore." She was also carrying a shopping bag of junk food.

"Here you go kid." I said, throwing the mars bar her way. Her eyes grew and the wailing stopped. Her dad looked gratefully at me.

"Better her chubby cheeks growing, rather than my ass." I thought, as I walked off.

At 8:45pm, with the daylight still in full force Fran picked me up from the train station, but not before I paid a visit to the most beautiful public toilets in the UK, at the train station. Fresh cut wildflowers adorned the reception area, and the toilets were pristine.

I managed to catch a conversation between two scottish tweens, and almost got a headache trying to decipher if they were speaking english or some ancient celtic language. Their accents were as thick as minestrone soup.


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Fran lives in the New Town area, as opposed to the Old Town area. She lives a stone's throw from all the major attractions and the town centre, about 5 minutes drive from the train station, and the Royal Mile, and pretty much everything. However, Edinburgh is pretty small, with only 500,000 people, and it's a 20-25 minute drive from one side of the town to the other.

All the buildings in Edinburgh are old. Like dating back to the 17th century in the New Town area, and the 11th - 12th century in the Old Town area. So are a few of the streets, some still narrow, and lined with cobblestone instead of asphalt.I found this both exhilirating and eerie. (More on this later.)

When Fran was driving me to her house, I wondered why there were so many people leaning out of windows, chatting and smoking, on the 2nd and 3rd stories of buildings, thinking that people were living in old banks, and this was quite novel.

Then I got to Fran's house, and she lives in the same type of building, massive, Georgian(??), stone buildings that have been divided into about 6-8 flats.

Her actual flat has ceilings that are about 15 feet high, with tall windows, and 5 bedrooms,kitchen, bathroom, and a gigantic living room.

We spent the night having some drinks, and listening to music, and chatting, before her boyfriend came to pay us a visit.

He asked me what I thought of the castle.

"What castle?" I said, in all seriousness. This is what I said, despite the fact that I had glanced over my guidebook, and it sort of rang a bell.

His face bordered on somewhat disbelief, and amusement.

"You know that massive fortress type building to the right of the train station?" he joked. "You can't miss it."

I furrowed my brow.

"No." I looked at Fran, "You didn't mention any castle, or point anything out when we were driving here."

The next day I realised that he was right, you can't actually miss the bloody thing.

We debated about whether we should go out, then I looked at the clock and realised it was 1 am. But the darkness had only fallen about 2 hours ago.

"All the pubs close at 1am, and all the clubs close at 3am, except for when it's Festival season." Fran said, so we decided to stay in since we were already pretty tipsy anyway.

The next morning, Fran made me breakfast.

She was preparing breakfast with her back to me, and I noticed a plastic wrapper on the dining table. "Genuine Scottish Haggis." I read.

My grip loosened in shock.

Fran turned around.

"Oh, by the way, you're having Haggis."

I started my day with Haggis, poached eggs on toast and bacon.

I quite liked the Haggis. It was sort of peppery and familiar. We mooched around the house a bit in the morning, wondering when the drizzle would stop. Fran advised me that it probably wouldn't. I not so quietly longed for the Australian summer.

Fran than took me for a drive around the Castle, and we walked down the Royal Mile, which is one exact mile from the Castle, and Holyrood Palace.

"Holyrood Palace, that's where the queen stays when she is in town."
"Huh? Why have they named it after somewhere American, and French? I mean, Hollywood Paris? That's weird."
"No Silly. Holy- Rood, PALACE."
"Oh."

Back at Fran's house, we solicited her flat mate to do a shop run while we watched DVDs on a tv show called Peep Show, and I requested a packet of Prawn Cocktail chips.

I report back that they taste like a tarter and sweeter version of Thins Light and
Tangy. I think they are supposed to taste like thousand island dressing, however, I wanted them to taste more like prawn.

The Philosophers Supper, and the privilege to feel grass under your feet.

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As bold as the this statement may be, it must be said; arriving at Cambridge train station yesterday felt like a little bit of an anti climax. I mean, not arriving in the town itself, or the prospect of visiting friends, but the actual train station itself.However, this is coming from the girl that was sort of hoping that her train would be driven by a steam engine, and maybe make 'choo choo' noises, and have an old world interior with cracked burgundy leather seats, polished red wood floors, complete with a ticket inspector that would tip his black cap at you.

"Yes, you are going on a time train, not a normal train. That's right, there'll be a carriage with an oak bar, and a bartender wearing a white shirt and suspenders that will serve you pimms and lemonade. People will be doing the Charleston down the aisles."

What I got, was a clean, modern and roomy Standard class carriage.

Having arrived at Liverpool Street station half an hour late for my train, I was mildly concerned that I would have to buy a new ticket, but fortunately I didn't have to. I had been smart enough to buy a off peak return ticket where I could catch any off peak train, which was 15 pounds, whereas a single ticket was 19 pounds. Confusing.

The train ride was remotely interesting, as the train headed out of metropolitan London, I saw many 'ghetto' high rise flats, and ugly neighborhoods. I also momentarily saw 2 young kids hanging out on their balcony, watching our train go by. The little girl waved and her older brother stuck his finger up at us. Ghetto.

Midway through the ride, beautiful green pastures, and old country manors starting appearing, along with cute little ponds and creeks (do the English have Creeks? That sounds very Australian. Perhaps over here they are called 'Streams'. Yes, much more romantic.') with lilypads, and moss covered rocks. It sort of dawned on me that I was in Famous Five and Secret Seven country.

So, contrary to what my vivid imagination was expecting, I did not arrive at Hogwarts trains station. It was a modern cement train platform. A few shops selling food etc, nothing more, nothing less.I think sometimes having an extremely vivid imagination is something you should let go of, otherwise train stations are disappointing.(Fortunately, everything after the train station has been a joy!!!!)

I'm in Cambridge to visit friends, Dr Josh, and Mrs Ellie. Dr Ross is a Research Fellow at Kings College at Cambridge University, in mathematics, specialising in math models relating to population growth and decline with relation to infectious diseases. I think. Anyway, that sounds poignant enough for me. Ellie is a Social Worker specialising in therapeutic family counselling. I think.

Josh and Ellie fell in love when we all lived in Brisbane circa 2006, and then had a lovely garden wedding in Adelaide on New Years Eve last year. They live here now, and will probably be here for the next 2 years.

Ellie met me at the train station, and drove me back to their flat, where we had lunch with some wine and lot of catch ups on wedding photos and gossip. Josh was in Coventry visiting his old university for the day, but was going to meet us later for dinner.

But not just any dinner. Cambridge with it rich history dating back from the 11th century, has a lot of tradition stemming from academia yesteryear (I just made that phrase up, but pretty impressive, isn't it? Yes, yes it is.) Josh and Ellie were taking me to dinner at the Provost's manor.

The Provost is the headmaster of Kings College (Cambridge has 32 Colleges, some include Pembroke College, Queen's College, Trinity College etc etc. It's where all the students live, dine and socialise.)His house is on the grounds of Kings College, and all the fellows and junior fellows would be dining with him tonight for a bit of a catchup.

It sounds fantastic and fascinating to me probably because of the ceremony of it all just sounds so formal, and romantic. Josh has the opportunities to go to things like 'High Table; free three course, wine fuelled dinners every night where he wears his academic gown, and dine with other fellows in the Kings College dining room, to catch up. But I can understand it may get tiring being formal all the time.


At about 6pm, Ellie and I walked to the city centre to Kings College, to meet Josh at the Provost's house, i mean, Manor.

A pub on the pathway to the city centre

The central village of Cambridge is absolutely stunning.Kings College's chapel steeple is also the logo for Cambridge University, so it's one of the most photographed sights of the town, making the area around Kings very busy. While this whole trip feels like a dream, the spirit in Cambridge's handsome old stone buildings that are centuries old, and narrow cobbled roads, and colourful shops, and their local pub, The Eagle (apparently where the 2 men that discovered DNA dined all the time) feels like a virtual reality history lesson.

At the Manor on Kings College grounds, The Provost and his wife greeted us with a warm welcome. Dr Ross Harrison, a globally reknown Philosopher and his wife Gillian, a very lovely Social worker.

Gillian said I was welcome to take my jacket off and place it in the cloak room behind me. The cloakroom was about the size of a large rumpus room, with nothing but artwork, walls lined with coat hooks and two pristine wash rooms on either side.

As the other fellows arrived, h'ors duevres and wine were circulated by 2 waiters, and we migrated to the outside terrace, were the Provost had a friendly match of croquet with a couple of the other fellows, as we sipped wine chatted to some other fellows. My head was just about to spin off from such a surreal atmosphere. I felt so honoured to be a complete outsider, invited to such a dinner. This was especially the case, since Kings College grounds is blocked off to members of the public. I don't know if this is always the case, but with summer in full swing, and the town filled to the brim with tourists, I was very fortunate to be able to pass through the grounds.



The fellows and junior fellows at Kings have some seriously fascinating fields of research. I spoke to three fellows specialising in Medievil history, Ancient Greek literature and it's relation to Arabic philosophy, South American literature and photography. They were all really nice, and really interesting to speak to. Hot topics of the evening were Michael Jackson's recent death, and the Summer Supper Party.

The Summer Supper Party is an annual black tie evening ball for all the fellows of Kings College, where they wine and dine, watch fireworks, and drink endless cocktails. Sounds good to me!

A buffet dinner was served in the Provost's dining room, where all the fellow's and their partners and guests chatted some more and mingled. I got talking to the Provost, and his wife, one on one for a bit. He tried to explain the rules of croquet to me, to no avail, but not that I let on to that. I just knodded and smiled in (hopefully) all the right places, but frankly, I don't understand cricket, and I just learned the rules of AFL this year. A centuries old tradition like Croquet was never going to be a connecting point with me. They were exceptionally sweet to me though, talking to me about my trip, and wishing me all the best as I left, and insisting I take a menu as a momento as I left.

Kings College Memorabilia including the Official College After Dinner Mints. Click on the picture to read the menu ...

Today, Josh and I went for a walk to the city centre, while Ellie was at work. We went through a different way, than last night, so we ended up at the back entrance to Kings College.

All of a sudden, while walking along the pathway in the park, out of nowhere, a large archway entrance appears. To the right of the archway is a clearing, and you can see a beautiful scenic view of the Kings College grounds, and all the major building in the background, with the River Cam in the foreground.

Kings College Grounds

Snap, Snap, Snap went my camera. I could never understand why people took photos of old buildings when I had to sit through hours of other people's European holiday pictures. But I get it now. But the photos never do the scene justice. And never captures how you feel when you set eyes on something you never expected to ever see in your life, let alone the wonder when you realise you are amongst significant beauty and history.

Josh took me through to the grounds again, and took some more photos. I was surprised to see cows in the paddock near the river. Josh said that there is some ancient agreement that a particular family is allowed to rent the paddock on the grounds, for infinity for the sum of 1 pound per annum. Lucky cows.

As we were walking, I noticed a massive statue in the middle of the grassy knoll next to the chapel.

"What's that?" i asked Josh.
"No idea. Never seen it before. Let's take a look."
I hesitated. "There are signs everywhere that say don't walk on the grass."
"Nah, not me. I'm exempt and anyone I'm with is too." he said as he started making way to the statue. I followed him with a bit of hesitation, wondering if he was setting me up for an arrest. I don't think the grounds keepers or the college police or whatever they are, would take such obvious rebellion too lightly.
The grounds keeper kept a close eye on us as we walked on the pristine lawn.
I took a few snaps, and saw a guy in a college robe walking towards us.

The statue of one of the King Henry's on the 'Forbidden Lawn' - I forget which one. King Henry VI started the College but King Henry VIII finished it.

"Oh look, a guy in a gown!" I said, loving the novelty, before I realised, this is a sight Josh sees every day.

We walked towards the chapel, and the guy said,"Excuse me, are you a fellow?"
"Yes, I'm Dr Joshua (surname) from Kings College."
The guy looked at him, looked at me, and seemed satisfied with the response and left us alone.

I couldn't believe it - What an odd privilege. Just to prove a point and enjoy the moment, we walked on the grass to exit the grounds, even though we were much closer to the asphalt.

"There's another fellow that lives in Kings that silently protests his rights to walk on the grass. He always walks around it, and never redeems the privildge. He thinks it should be on for everyone, or noone at all." Josh mentioned to me as I gaped at him after we had dealt with the college police guy (Seems weird, as he was dressed in a cape, a purple sash - not your usual weapons of enforcing discipline, however, I admit, the semiotic symbols of authority differ in the academic world than in the real world where guns and batons rule.)

I have no idea what I think about it. I was just savouring my right to walk on the grass.