Destination: Edinburgh

This morning in Edinburgh, I enjoyed one of my favorite research duties: I walked through a neighborhood dense with B&B signs, going door-to-door to update the ones listed in our guidebook. (Every town in Great Britain has a street or a neighborhood like this one.) And after checking in with 14 different B&Bs in about four hours, two things were clear: B&Bs are like apples and oranges. And we’re as lucky to have all of them listed in our guidebook as they are to be listed.

It takes a rare combination of skills to run a good B&B. First, it requires exceptional social skills: You’re opening your home to a motley crew of travelers from around the world. You need to make them feel welcome and comfortable, but still give them some privacy. You must be organized enough to run a complex small business — managing reservations, juggling check-ins and check-outs, and keeping the place spick and span — yet relaxed enough not to stress out when people show up late or make a mess of their rooms. I have a lot of empathy for B&B owners — I’m pretty sure I couldn’t handle that job — but as a guidebook writer, I’m also an advocate for their customers.

Fortunately, the B&B owners in Edinburgh make things easy on me. They “tick all the boxes” (as they like to say here) of what we look for in a good B&B. And yet, each one does it in their own unique way.

One thing that struck me this morning is how the various B&B owners are at different life stages. For example, there’s the young couple, with a toddler and a five-year-old, who’ve taken over and fixed up an old property. The plastic toys scattered around the garden are a bit distracting, but the enthusiasm and hard work the family has put into renovating the place — with welcome splashes of contemporary style, and a younger generation’s take on food, design, and contemporary life — more than compensate.

Then there’s the middle-aged couple who’ve hit their groove. They might have a teenager about to head to university. They’ve got their system down to a science. For example, they set out little slips of paper each evening so every guest can notify them ahead of time exactly what they’ll want for breakfast, and when they’ll be eating.

Next, the empty nesters are slowing down a bit, and the furnishings are getting a bit worn and dated. But they’re such old pros that nobody much minds. They know they’re not the freshest thing on the block, so they price their rooms accordingly, and everybody’s happy.

And finally, every so often you get the aging B&B owner who just isn’t up for it anymore. Sweet but exhausted, these folks don’t have much left in the tank. They still offer fine rooms at a good price, but there are more dust bunnies than there should be. “You can keep me in the book for one more edition,” they’ll say. “But after that, I just don’t know…” Occasionally, I’ll talk with somebody who clearly can’t hack it anymore but doesn’t want to admit it — to themselves, much less to me. And on those rare occasions, I have to make the tough call that it’s time for them to go from the book.

On a lighter note, several B&B owners have their well-rehearsed “when I met Rick” stories: “I still recall the day, 14 years ago. We’d just had all of our rooms check out on the same morning. We were scrambling ’round the ‘ouse, trying to get all the rooms ready. There came a knock at the door. A tall chap was outside and asked to see a room. I had no idea who he was, of course. After I showed him ’round, he explained he was writing a book, and said we’d be in it. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But several months later, suddenly I started getting all of these calls…” These stories often come with the awe and reverence of a born-again story. (And, for many small businesses struggling to survive in Europe’s dog-eat-dog tourist industry, being listed in our books can be the turning point that allows them to flourish.)

As I’m expanding the Scotland material for our new Rick Steves Scotland guidebook, I’m checking out several new accommodations to add to the book. The funny thing is, because Rick’s books aren’t well known in the UK, most people who aren’t already listed in our book haven’t the foggiest idea who Rick is. (I can’t tell you how many times people have said to me, “Oh, right, Rick Stein,” thinking of a British celebrity chef. “Is he doing books now?”)

Since our books are an unknown commodity, the first response of people I visit is quite telling. Most say, “Right! Do come in,” and I’m off on the right foot. Others glance at me nervously and say, “Oooh, sorry, now really isn’t the best time. Can you ring back tomorrow?” Given how tightly I’m scheduled, it’s almost never possible to ring back tomorrow…so those folks just missed their shot at being in an influential guidebook. Years ago, I used to reason with them: “It’ll only take a few minutes. This is a very popular book in the US and Canada…” But in recent years, I’ve gotten a bit more fatalistic: If they don’t answer the door, or don’t want to show me around, then perhaps they’re just not meant to be in the book. It’s not my job to talk them into it. Thanks to the abundance of great accommodations in Britain, it’s easy to take this”plenty of other fish in the sea” attitude…because there really are.

Sometimes B&B owners regard me with suspicion, asking to see some ID. That’s understandable. Apparently there have been a few widely reported scams where people would show up at a B&B claiming to work for a guidebook, but in fact were just casing the house for a later burglary. Far more common are “guidebooks” that inspect a B&B, then ask the proprietor to pay a fee in order to be listed. I’ve been told that this is the way virtually every listing in Britain works. And, of course, B&B owners also pay a very hefty commission to be booked through sites such as Booking.com and TripAdvisor.

Apparently these days, the Rick Steves guidebook is the only source of truly free promotion for B&Bs. Once they’re in the book, even in the age of TripAdvisor, they still tell me it makes a huge impact on their business. The only thing we ask in return is that they treat our readers well. As Rick always says to hoteliers around Europe, “If my readers are happy, I’m happy.”

The more things change…the more they stay the same. Centuries ago, William Wallace and Robert the Bruce fought the English king to ensure Scottish independence. Generations later, the Jacobites struggled agains the crown to put a Scottish monarch back on the throne. And in our own age, the tension between Scotland and England persists. Less than a year ago, Scotland voted to remain part of the United Kingdom…for the time being.

Scotland has a lot in common with England. But, having traveled extensively in both places, I also see stark differences. For starters, look at the national symbols. England’s official flower is the rose: classic, romantic, and idealized. Scotland’s is the thistle: wild, prickly, and beautiful in its ruggedness.

At the bottom of Edinburgh’s Royal Mile, two more symbols of England and Scotland face each other across the street. Touring both to gather information for our new Rick Steves Scotland guidebook, I found the differences striking — and maybe bit too on-the-nose.

The Palace of Holyroodhouse has been a royal residence for centuries. Many monarchs — including the current Queen — have preferred staying here to windblown Edinburgh Castle. Holyroodhouse, a classic sandstone palace, is set back from the road, protected by several layers of stout gateways and wrought-iron fences, and surrounded by meticulously landscaped gardens. The clear message: This is the monarch’s space, and you are merely visiting…should you be so lucky. (When I asked if I could take a look around for free, as is standard operating procedure at most sights for guidebook researchers, they told me, “You’d have to call Buckingham Palace to formally request permission.” I’ve never been told to call Buckingham Palace before. It was fun.)

Once inside the pristine grounds, you follow a carefully prescribed, one-way route dictated by a buttoned-down audioguide. I didn’t ask, but I imagine the Queen wouldn’t tolerate loiterers or picnickers cluttering up her lawn or rose garden.

Although the Queen publicly supported the creation of the Scottish Parliament, I imagine it drove her a bit batty when they started building the place across the street. Open since 2004, the building seems like the purpose-built antithesis of Holyroodhouse.

It was designed in boldly contemporary style by Enric Miralles from Catalunya (a nation with separatist sentiments of its own). All signs appear both in English and in Gaelic, the prehistoric Celtic tongue of the Scots.

Once through the security checkpoint, access is entirely unfettered — I had the sense you could simply wander the halls to your heart’s content, though helpful attendants are standing by to direct you to the main attraction, the Debating Chambers. Out front is a snazzy, angular plaza, with big pools and fountains, ample seating, and sprawling rugged gardens — filled, of course, with highland grasses and vibrant purple thistles.

It’s a communal place. On a sunny day, people are out enjoying their parliament complex as if it were a public park. I imagine the Queen pulling back her drapes and peering at the riffraff filling her neighbor’s front yard. What’s next, a car up on blocks?

And yet, to the grand old dame’s eternal credit, she lets it happen. While the differences between these two places are jarring, let’s not forget the even more striking fact that they coexist so peacefully to begin with. Given the history of bloodshed between these two lands, I’m heartened to see the “you do it your way, and we’ll do it our way” spirit embodied in stone and steel at the bottom of the Royal Mile. It gives me hope that nations can evolve, mature, and find ways to fit better into a diverse world. What’s happened between England and Scotland in recent years seems to suggest that the overall trajectory of a nation’s evolution is toward peaceful coexistence.

Will Scotland remain part of the UK? After getting to know this place well, I have a strong feeling about what the answer should be. But isn’t it nice that we can have the conversation with the knowledge that whatever happens, we can be confident that it will be peaceful and respectful?