The Scottish King and I

CHAPTER 3 : Edinburg Streets

I followed the road and came out to the main road through the trees. This street was called Craigcrook Road. Just like the name of the castle. There is also a nursing home on the land next to our house. My brother-in-law has drawn the border with bush walls. When I looked at the other houses, I saw that they also preferred bush walls. Scotland has already made it their goal to protect nature as much as they can. I saw this more clearly when I was flying over it. I wish all countries, especially Turkey, did this! How long would they continue with stone buildings and factories? As people moved away from nature, they were also moving away from their essence.

I looked to my right and left. I can say that this is where I got stuck. How do you know where to visit a place you don’t know? You would have a map marked in advance, wouldn’t you? I hadn’t made any preparations. In other words, I had generally planned where I would visit in Scotland, but I hadn’t planned anything for waypoints. There was a primary school just to the right of the street. My aunt told me there was a place called The Corner Shop down the street from the school. There were a few shops clustered there. I walked down the street thinking I might find what I was looking for. After a few minutes I arrived at the place my aunt had mentioned. It was a small square building. It sold magazines. There was a hairdresser next to it and a café next to it. Well, I could go there for a coffee or something. The people around seemed to be doing their own thing. Considering that this was the closest shop here, I would have expected it to be busier, at least from what I had seen so far. There were a few children and families enjoying the sunshine but not as many people as I had hoped. There was obviously somewhere else nearby.

I turned onto Strachan Street and walked along the road. There were houses everywhere and nothing else to be seen. After at least 15 minutes of walking I finally arrived in the centre of Blackhall. At least I had a good reason to think it was the centre. There were more shops here and I could even see the library just to my left. The first thing I noticed was the Crescent Foods shop. It could be translated as Hilal Yemekleri, and that was enough to give it away. It said 'Fresh Halal Meat' and 'Asian Grocer' on top. "Okay! I can live here!" I said out loud. I must have made a little too much noise because a woman passing by looked at me with curious eyes. When I smiled, she smiled back, and continued on her way. I couldn't have expressed it any differently. Although my almond-shaped eyes were not very common, they were not rare either. My light brown hair and hazel eyes could have made me disappear among the people here. Maybe. Of course, if I didn't have dark skin compared to them. Interesting. In fact, I am considered to have very white skin in Turkiye. Even my mother and father are darker than me, they make fun of me. They say that my skin turns into cheese when I eat white cheese. Yes, I have a slight fondness for cheese.

I gave the shop a thumbs-up and winked. So it was an area where the Muslim population lived. No wonder my aunt was eager to move here. There was also a hospital right across the street. Good. There was another hairdresser right across the street. Apparently, I won't have any trouble with that. I only need a hairdresser to pluck my eyebrows anyway. I can't do it at all. I either get the ends of my hair cut once a year or not. I'm not much of a hairdresser's girl, you see. Right next to the hairdresser, I saw a sign that said Blackhall Mosque. After a grocery store that sold halal meat, a mosque felt great. I definitely wasn’t going to have any problems this summer; neither with food nor Friday prayers. I happily waved my arms in the air and moved a little closer to the mosque. I have to say that I was a little disappointed because it didn’t have a dome or a minaret. It would have been more appropriate to call this a mescid than a mosque. If there wasn’t a sign, it would have taken a thousand witnesses to call it a mosque. Still, I had to be thankful that I found this in the absence of it.

I wandered around the area for a few more hours. The stores I found in general were; a tire shop, a place I could call a painter, a baby store, a bistro, a vet, more hairdressers, a few guesthouses, and even a place to play bowling if I got bored. The real highlight was the shopping store that was a 20-minute walk from my house. In other words, the place I was really looking for. All the shopping stores were here. It was jam-packed. So people were coming here. Well, that was the world. Everyone was flocking to the big stores. I found a stationery store to buy a diary and, to my luck, I found a very authentic looking diary with a light brown leather cover. It was tied with a darker brown leather belt. “Great!” I said, picking it up. I inhaled its scent. It had nothing on it. It looked pretty plain but I had something I could put in there that would go well; a star and crescent badge. I also found a feathered pilot pen in the pen section. After buying a couple of those, I paid for them at the cash register and went straight home.

I had been walking for hours and was naturally tired but my day had been pretty good. I liked Blackhall. I hadn’t had the chance to get to know the people yet but it’s not something I usually get to do in the countries I go on holiday. Especially in Western countries, people are not as warm towards foreigners as they should be. They may be warm enough for themselves but not for us. Still, from what I heard from my aunt, the Scots are very warm people compared to other Europeans. When I remembered the woman from the afternoon, I realized that she might be right. When I went to America, when I reacted like I did earlier, a man glared at me and turned away. My uncle Jim also very warm.

“Did you come back? What did you buy?”

When I showed my aunt my diary and pens, she shook her head. “It would be a mistake to expect anything else,” she said. She probably expected me to buy a dozen dresses and shoes. How could she make such a mistake every time? Here was hope. When I entered the kitchen, I found my uncle at the food. “Jim!” my aunt shouted.

My uncle immediately pulled his hands away and looked at what I had bought. “Were you able to explore the area?”

“Yes. It’s a very nice area. I’ve decided, I’m going to buy a house here.”

“Really? Did you like it that much?” my aunt said. “Oh, how nice! You come every year then?”

“Whenever you have the chance, of course. Uncle, find me a house.”

“What day does this place stand?”

“Thank you, but I don’t like maids around me.”

"We'll fire them for you."

My aunt and I glared at my uncle. Although he was someone who liked to tease people, sometimes he spoke seriously in a joking manner. My aunt must have thought he was serious because she said, "Then you clean this big house by yourself." My uncle just shrugged his shoulders.

“Thanks, uncle, but I don’t want anyone to get fired because of me. Just find a house across from you.”

“We’ll build a kennel in the backyard, don’t worry.”

Apparently he wanted to mess with me. Okay. “Okay then. When you come to Turkiye, I’ll allocate my dog’s kennel just for you and fire the dog. It’s quite big, don’t worry.”

“If it’s comfortable, it’s fine,” he said and sat down at the table with a smile on his face. That’s when I saw that the table was set.

“Don’t you ever use the dining room?”

“We rarely use it... At our dinner parties and such," my aunt explained. "Sit down late. Your uncle made you a special meal."

When I washed my hands and sat down at the table, the woman, whose name I learned was Mrs. Silver, placed a large plate in front of me. It was a fitting name, considering her silver hair.

In the middle of the plate was something that looked like an ostrich egg. “Is this haggis?”

“Yes!” my uncle said cheerfully. “Eat, eat.”

I didn’t know much about it other than that it was a food made from offal. When I looked at my uncle, he winked and smiled. His gaze seemed to say, ‘Go ahead and taste it!’ I took the fork and knife and cut it right in the middle. It wasn’t hard, since the intestine was like a membrane anyway. When it split open like a pomegranate, the smoke rose and its spicy smell spread all around. I inhaled its scent. “The spices are very good.” It looked like minced meat. It also had onions in it. I dipped my fork into the haggis and popped it into my mouth. It was good! “I liked it. It suits our taste.”

“Of course it’s good!” uncle said proudly.

“But not as much as kokoreç.”

“Kokoreç is not bad either,” he said.

Well, there could be no winner in this argument. Everyone would undoubtedly accept their own cuisine as the best.

“I think if I moved here permanently, I would run a kokoreç shop. If the Scots are addicted to this, they would be crazy about kokereç.”

My uncle Jim smiled. “It could be. We have to try it.”