Back in Auld Reekie

Let’s start in the airport.  This past summer I had applied for an Ancestry Visa.  With my Grand being born in Liverpool, I had hoped for a shot but I had great difficulty filling out the on-line application so I called Immigration and emailed them 4 times only to be told to check off General and then in another area explain my goal.  Well, it would have been very helpful if anyone of the people I spoke to or who had responded to my emails had informed me that the Ancestry Visa only applies to those who are residents of the British Commonwealth.  So not not only was my application rejected kissing off $800 (£650) but I knew I would be flagged at Customs.  So to be completely open, I told this tale to Jane, the Border Agent, when it came my turn in the queue.  And, yes, I was flagged but she told me that my honesty was to my credit and she made note of our conversation on my file. So here are the rules for a Yank visiting the UK with a US Passport.  No work first off. I can inquire about a job but if offered I would have to return to the States and then apply for a work Visa.  The job offered has to be one that a UK resident didn’t qualify for.  As I am retired, I doubt that would be an option. And I can’t imagine any qualification I could offer that a UK citizen can’t unless the job needed a Yank specifically. Can’t imagine what that might be.

I can enter and leave as often as I like as long as my stay within a 12 month period does NOT exceed 180 days. For example: on this trip say, I stay 40 days in the UK and then maybe Erie where the rules are similar but with only 90 days.  Then I visit Europe (not including the British Isles) where a US Passport gets one up to 90 days and then back to the UK where I would have 140 days left.   Once the 180 is done I can not enter again until the anniversary of the beginning of the most recent visit.  In my case, that means the next 180 day clock will begin Dec. 14, 2017.

I had given Jane my card for Wanderingwith.me in response to her question of why am I here. She said she will be following my trip as it looked interesting.  And then she looked me in the eye and said she would be counting my days to be sure that all I had told her was true.  It is, Jane, and I will do nothing to jeopardize any future visits. Please comment if I got any of the above wrong.

I do so love this city, Edinburgh. I was asked a couple of times today which I liked better, Glasgow or Edinburgh.  The PC and accurate answer is “Which do you like better, bananas or oranges?”  Both are great and very different.  After checking in to the Blossom GH on Minto street (remember my rule, if the place is rubbish it gets no mention) where Kay gave me a warm Scottish welcome, I showered and got settled.  Since it had been over 24 hours since my last meal, there was only one thing that could satisfy my palate, Haggis.  Couple blocks from the GH I found The Abbey and soon found myself tucking into as good and as large a plate of haggis, neeps & tats as I have ever enjoyed.   Whisky sauce, of course.   It was so good I asked if  It was McSweens but was told their butcher makes it for them.

A quick note on currency exchange, when I was in the UK last year it took $1.53 to buy on £1 GBP, today that same £ cost $1.25 so the dollar is worth about 22% more. Since that translates to about $5 for a pint of real beer, this might turn into a country wide pub-tour!

I had to walk off that great late lunch so I headed down North Bridge to Princes Street, the highest high street in Scotland, taking a slight detour to the Royal Mile where I visited St Giles Cathedral.  For some reason I had never been in there before and was in for a surprise as there was a rehearsal by school children for the sold out evening Christmas choir. Brilliant. The gentleman with the beard is John Knox.

I had never been here in December and found the transformation of Princes Street Gardens well done.  Lots of rides for the kids, booth after booth of unique gifts and a impressive array of food vendors. I like pubs that are the less touristy ones, like Robertson, if memory serves me, on Rose Street just behind Prices St. I had an informative and civil conversation with a couple of men who were independence supporters and I must say there arguments were realistic.  I plan to have further such chats over the next few weeks so I can get a better understanding of the issue than one gets from The Scotsman  and the varied commenters on that site.  Overall a pretty good first day.