I wish I could write about all the wonderfully fantastic, culturally enriching, envy-inspiring things I've done today, but I can't.

I really didn't do much of anything today. I had breakfast (these people eat way too much in the morning), took a shower, packed, checked email, checked out, laughed at the woman stationed at the other hotel I stopped in when she said she could get me a room for £50, went to the visitor's center, was genuflectingly (I know you like that word) grateful to the woman who found me another hotel for £25 a night (no internet, but en suite and almost half the price of the place I stayed in last night), checked in (that was not a fifteen minute walk to the hotel, thank you very much -- more like 30), dropped my stuff, walked around, bought too much stuff, came back to my room, went out to dinner, and now I'm here, paying an absurd amount for internet. This will, I warn you, be brief (4p/minute? Are you people insane?!).

Of Edinburgh I have this to say so far: the people are phenomenally kind, this city is irrationally lovely (castle in the middle of the city? Why haven't we done this in the US?), it's expensive, and I keep getting overlooked somehow.

I will explain. Everyone is very kind in that people have offered me directions when I was very clearly staring cross-eyed at a map with all my luggage, lost beyond belief. And the people at the Information... um... Place were enthusiastic and completely cool about my picky nature regarding hotels. Same went for the stores I stopped in -- everyone's just nice. And I keep getting overlooked... well, I don't know why, but when I was on the train the ticket... person... missed me when they went around punching tickets the second time, and dinner took me an hour because the waitress took forever coming over and then following up. I finally went up to the bar and asked if I should order there.

A sidenote here: Bill Bryson has screwed me up. He made passing observation in Notes from a Small Island that in bars you order at the bar (food too), and in a cafe you order at your table. Not true. Almost every pub I've been into has sent a waitress to the table. But now I'm all cautious and prove myself the tourist (because they sure couldn't tell by my accent) by asking, when I come in, where I should order from. That jerk. I should write him a nasty note.

Anyway. I watched people come and go, and was pleased that I brought my Sudoku book (Sudoku is frustratingly addicting. I blame it for the reason I didn't get out much today). Then teetered out of the bar (I love the beer here...) and am now here.

Stephanie presumably gets in tomorrow with her friend(s?). I don't know what's happening after that. Will update more later. Naturally.