Scotland

Most people wonder where my last name comes from: Ogilvie. It just sounds strange. However, my family has a proud heritage in our Scottish roots that date back hundreds of years. I cannot even recall how many times my father would point to our family crest and warn me to never take my future husband’s name. Besides being super annoying, I wanted to see Scotland for myself.

So one day, for a whopping ticket of 43 Euros, I went to Edinburgh with my father. Goal number one: find the street that said Ogilvie. It wasn’t that hard. Situated on a picturesque street of olden houses the tall sign stood with out last name on it.  The moment was like a glimpse back in history. But it was just that-a moment. What were we to do with the rest of our time?

There were so many places to visit, and my father and I literally took the first cab that went by and said, “take us to your favorite location.”  I would describe it as Italy, but only a thousand time cleaner. One of our first stops was Edinburgh castle. It was a magnificent site, situated on the top of a rocky and winding hill. The huge stone made me imagine the amount of time and work put forth to creating such a place. A mighty fortification of Scotland’s kings and queens, it was built in 1617 in honor of James VI. Unfortunately, the entrance fee was a bit steep, and my father and I decided to save our money for a mighty Scottish feast.

That hike up the hill was one I would never like to have to redo, and it created an enormous hole in my stomach that craved anything and everything. After randomly selecting another cab, we chose to eat at a cozy restaurant situated on the outskirts of the capital. I chose the traditional “ hungry man.” Thinking I could eat ten different types of meat on a platter that had to have been at least a foot long, no Thanksgiving meal could compare to how overly full I felt. Not to mention the haggis that didn’t sit too well. Needless to say, I was happy to call a cab back to the hostel.