A writer in Scotland

“Oh, good luck with ye book! Mari, was it?” I smiled at the old lady from Glasgow that I had been talking to half the tour.

We got an early start for once as we had to check out from our hotel, but then the Elephant House was just around the corner and I was ready for my morning tea. I’m not sure if I love the place because Rowling is said to have been writing at the café, or because of the amazing view of the castle. Okay, definitely the castle. We headed for the castle after tea and shortbread, but were kept by souvenir shops – we had to find a birthday gift for my dad – and in the end The Writers Museum. 
       

    “That tour departs in just 15 minutes,” I said to my mom and pointed at a sign outside the door. “Book Lovers tour”, Sir Walter Scott, J. M. Barrie, Arthur Connan Doyle, J.K. Rowling and so on. In the end I ran to get some money and paid the tour to Allan, a wonderful guide/writer that took us (a group of what? 8?) around Edinburgh talking literature for more than the 90 minutes we were promised.

   Among our fellow tourists was an old pair from Glasgow, an Australian couple, I think the woman was an editor, and to other women, one of them from Brazil. And that is what you’ll know her as: Miss Brazil.  

   

    “I find it easier. Italian.”
“The Italians pronounce the word, just like she said” said Miss Brazil. It was by coincidence we had ended up eating lunch together. She was going to the castle, we were going to the castle, none of us ever got there, all three were hungry so we invited the nice lady to eat lunch with us at some Italian place our guide recommended us.

     “I’m a pizza person,” I said and looked down on what looked like bread with tomatosauce on it. “In Brazil they make real pizza. If you ever come to Sao Paolo you must tell me and I will show you were to go!” I smiled as we exchanged contact information. New country, new people, new destinations.

Mari Clémentine