Sammy Who Froze with Fire Demons.

     The final weeks of study abroad will slowly turn into a couple lingering days and then, soon enough, Edinburgh will be no more than a fond memory. Shall we mourn this passing in melancholic angst? God no, dear reader! What do you take me for? Let's go out with a bang... or perhaps a fire festival! Yes, this past week I had the joy of attending the Beltane Fire Festival, an overwhelming celebration of summer's coming. It is the closest I will ever come to seeing a fertility festival, pushing the comfort levels of ever Puritanical tourist in the most hedonistic of fashions. It took place on April 30th and was typical-typical is used in a flexible sense here-of May Day festivities. Yet, in Edinburgh I suppose the conception of summer is more flexible than my usage of typical because, although the night was solid pagan fun, we all were frozen to the core by the end of it. Be forewarned that there is a bit a nudity in the following pictures but we're not talking anything worse than National Geographic. Think of it as cultural nudity... covered in red body paint

The festival took place on top of Calton Hill where the National Monument is. What was once a pleasant vantage point now becomes something entirely more sinister. Of course, most things do when you photograph them at dusk and place a devil in the foreground.

The beginning of the opening ceremony was marked by Winter, symbolized as a buck, walking out and awaiting the May Queen's arrival.

We kept asking when the May Queen was going to arrive, wrongly mistaking her on several accounts until someone informed us, "Oh, you'll know". And yes, the enormous display of flaming symbols and ritualistic and synchronized bowing did make it rather obvious. 

As I said, synchronized bowing was very well executed. 

One of the burning symbols which I believe represented the four seasons, but honestly that one's a shot in the dark.... Get it? Shot in the dark? The photo... Alright, alright.

After a time of very complimentary groveling, the May Queen descended into the crowd to lead Winter to his death. The entire night she kept silent as the grave and the only time she moved her lips was to whisper something to winter during their meeting. No one except Winter knows. Come on, if that doesn't rival your Celtic curiosity, what will? I was so floored at how elaborately fantastic the show was, that I was a giddy mess the whole night. I guess I'm not May Queen material.    

The May Queen's hoard of floral femme fatales.  

The was one of the Fire Demons, or "reds" as they called themselves. As I'm sure you can predict from the image above, they were quite the group of characters!

Alright, so this one's a bit pervy but I just couldn't resist capturing the effort he put into constructing a pair of homemade chaps. It obviously took skill. 

And what would a May Day be without fire dances complete with green nymphs and blazing fans? A poor excuse for a pagan festival, that's what!

This was an awesome display of Bhangra-like dancing. More people to add to the list of "cooler than I will ever be capable of becoming". Edinburgh has lengthened it a considerable amount.

This was what they termed "elemental puppetry" because, of course, at a fire festival, you can't just have regular puppetry. 

As said, she wore this expression and headdress all night. I do hope one of her hoard gave her a neck message after three hours of stiff regality. 

Now, I was freezing but I was also layered in multiple coats and woolly comforts. I cannot say the same for these very dedicated performers. This went on for hours and not once did I see any of them give a hint of frigidness. On the other hand, there I was slurping as much warmth as I could from an over-priced but deeply appreciated hot cocoa. Apparently, anyone could volunteer to be involved but something tells me I'm not fire demon material.    

And yes, there is the question of modesty. I wouldn't label myself as a prude but I'm not too keen on the idea of running about in nothing but my skivvies. Call me old fashioned but red paint just doesn't give me the same feeling of privacy as, oh I don't know... clothing? 

     Icy blasts from the top of Calton Hill aside, the night was something I shan't soon forget, not that I think I could. It was an "only in Edinburgh" moment, yet not one that I'd readily slap on a postcard home to mom and dad. The Beltane Fire Festival needs a large amount of explanation but the only way one could understand the manner in which body paint, fire dances and outrageous costuming come together in perfect revelry is to experience it. Something is lost in trying to bring a surreal moment into reality. 

    Well, moving into something a bit more demure and, minimally, tangible, I also went to high tea with my friends at Tigerlily. And yes, it was a veritable bouquet of too cute for its own good, complete with cake stands piled with passion fruit pavlova, mandarin tarts, lemon cupcakes, and finger sandwiches. Even the Mad Hatter would have found himself in speechless bliss. 

   

Can something be too cute? No, not at high tea. 

There was a predictable sugar crash after the meal but it was well worth it.

We are six talented and articulate young women, hailing from acclaimed institutes. And yet, when surrounded by soft pink lighting, squeal-inducing confections and the rattle of conversation and teacups, we found ourselves living out the most elaborate fantasies of a young girl's tea party. I find this a perfect way to spend my time--adulthood should simply be the freedom to indulge one's childhood cravings. 

   Although James McAvoy was a fox, I had the joy of seeing another celebrity. Yet this one was a different sort. The Guinness Book of World Records sort, in fact. Ever heard of the world's most pierced woman? Well, below she is pictured walking down the streets of Edinburgh, her home city. Odd right? Yet, this capital has inspired the spookiest imaginations so perhaps it fits perfectly. And spooky certainly describes this bold dame: 

Keep in mind not all of the piercings are facial. I'll say no more. 

   I could only get a picture from the back as I was too intimidated to ask for one with her. Curse my hesitation because think of how great a photo that would have been to show relatives what Scotland was like. I might linger around the area I saw her and see if fate will allow our paths to cross again. 

    For you Harry Potter fans, I was able to get myself to Elephant House, the cafe where Rowling clacked out much of the first couple novels. Now, it's a bit touristy but so enveloped in Harry Potter fandom that you quickly forget the eyebrow-raising cost of a bagel. All over the bathroom walls are thank you notes to JK Rowling and classic quotes from the series. You better believe I sneaked a pen in and paid my respects. If there's one thing I love about Harry Potter (one thing-yeah right) culture, it's the ability to bring the whimsy into the everyday. For example, at Elephant House one of the bathrooms was out of order and someone had cleverly slipped a sticky note that said "ministry entrance" below the sign. You've got to love it. Only a Harry Potter reader could make a broken bathroom stall whimsical. 

    For the next couple weeks I plan on trying to investigate the off-beat aspects of Edinburgh such as magic shops (the types with owners that refer to it as "the craft"), odd antique stores and the like. If I don't get a curse, I'll be sure to keep you updated but as reverence is not my specialty, I may be a toad before my time here is out.