Welcome to Edinburgh (and hold on to your hat)!
The Edinburgh Fringe Festival is the 61 year old bastard child of the city’s “official” International Festival. Hoping to rebuild post-WWII Europe through arts and culture, the festival attracted uninvited artistic talent hoping to benefit from the crowds. The name is attributed to Scottish playwright Robert Kemp who in 1948 observed the beginning birth pangs, “Round the fringe of official Festival drama, there seems to be more private enterprise than before … I am afraid some of us are not going to be at home during the evenings!”
The Edinburgh Fringe is the largest arts lollapalooza in the world. For three weeks every August since 1947, companies, individuals, and productions from around the world gather at venues across the city to perform in musicals, comedies, dramas, children’s shows, adult only shows, and spectacles of all nature. It is a grab-bag of delight and like Harry Potter Bertie Bott’s jelly beans, one never knows if you’ve just bought tickets to Green Apple or Earwax. This year’s Fringe has 2,050 shows, 250 venues, 18,626 performers and will generate more then last year’s £75 million for the Scottish economy.
At first glance, Edinburgh may appear grey, bleak, and abreast with scarves (punctuated by the occasional boa) in what should rightly be the dog-days of summer. Paper-thin summer dresses giggle from their suitcase and mock my inability to pack---I kick myself both in punishment and to harness the warming powers of friction. New Hampshire natives and Dartmouth students alike may sympathize with the humble gratitude that accompanies sunshine. I feel betrayed by my delusion of a Scottish tropical paradise; I had apparently drawn the wrong conclusions about a country where even the men wear skirts, I now know it’s not just the breeze they’re after.
Except for the occasional curses that still litter my thoughts on Scotland’s weather, I have developed a serious crush on this city. Like a coy lover in the early stages of a romance, Edinburgh has only shown me its best sides. The city is a carnival of color and as I roam its stoned streets, my neck swivels from astronauts, to opera-singing strumpets, to men in rabbit suits, and even the occasional near-nudist. Everyone is singing their own praises, pushing a rushed program into your hands, and promising that your life will never be the same, the critics gave it 4 stars, you won’t regret it, oh won’t you come?
The Edinburgh Fringe is the largest arts lollapalooza in the world. For three weeks every August since 1947, companies, individuals, and productions from around the world gather at venues across the city to perform in musicals, comedies, dramas, children’s shows, adult only shows, and spectacles of all nature. It is a grab-bag of delight and like Harry Potter Bertie Bott’s jelly beans, one never knows if you’ve just bought tickets to Green Apple or Earwax. This year’s Fringe has 2,050 shows, 250 venues, 18,626 performers and will generate more then last year’s £75 million for the Scottish economy.
At first glance, Edinburgh may appear grey, bleak, and abreast with scarves (punctuated by the occasional boa) in what should rightly be the dog-days of summer. Paper-thin summer dresses giggle from their suitcase and mock my inability to pack---I kick myself both in punishment and to harness the warming powers of friction. New Hampshire natives and Dartmouth students alike may sympathize with the humble gratitude that accompanies sunshine. I feel betrayed by my delusion of a Scottish tropical paradise; I had apparently drawn the wrong conclusions about a country where even the men wear skirts, I now know it’s not just the breeze they’re after.
Except for the occasional curses that still litter my thoughts on Scotland’s weather, I have developed a serious crush on this city. Like a coy lover in the early stages of a romance, Edinburgh has only shown me its best sides. The city is a carnival of color and as I roam its stoned streets, my neck swivels from astronauts, to opera-singing strumpets, to men in rabbit suits, and even the occasional near-nudist. Everyone is singing their own praises, pushing a rushed program into your hands, and promising that your life will never be the same, the critics gave it 4 stars, you won’t regret it, oh won’t you come?
posted by An American in Scotland: Fringe Blogger at
17:06
3 Comments:
Edinburgh has never ceased to be coy with me, though our love affair is moving into it's second year. Do not be afraid of her darker sides. Her grime only serves to show the shine that lies in her greatest of jewels.
Give us some local flavor. Have you been to many restaurants? What is your take on the average, striped jumper wearing N.E.D (non-educated delinquent)? And what of these mysterious 'chips and brownsauce'?
Write often, Miss Fringe, and tell us what you think.
By
Anonymous, At
5 August 2007 at 04:35
Dearest Ms American In Scotland,
How would a theatre company go about convincing you to come along and see our show?
I ask because your reviews seem much more discerning (and considerably more interesting) than the 'real' press...
PS Sorry for posting this as a comment but I couldn't find another way of contacting you.
By
Yaz Al-Shaater, At
8 August 2007 at 17:17
Hey, thanks so much for the positive feedback (though any would be appreciated, I was raised with the "all attention is good attention" mantra).
You can e-mail me at FringeBlogger@gmail.com
I would love an invitation to your show.
Cheers (as they say)!
By
An American in Scotland: Fringe Blogger, At
8 August 2007 at 17:39
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