All Things Must End

Today is Tuesday, the 28th of August. It's raining. So ends the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

Since some time has elapsed since my last update, I should catch you up on the highlights of recent activity. Meeting up with Josh Cornwell for tasty caramel chocolate shortbread and caffine, seeing Play On Words -- an excellent production reminiscent of Tom Stoppard -- in a toasty, cramped theatre on a cold night, climbing Arthur's Seat the hard way to be met with intense wind and spectacular views in every direction, seeing Johnson and Boswell: Late But Live at the Traverse, walking along the beach near St. Andrews, watching the sun set over rollling Scottish countryside, devouring ice cream sundaes, meeting 30 odd other couchsurfers for an evening of film and fun in the back room of the Brass Monkey, partying down at the Forest to full throated, slightly drunk singer songwriter women jamming away on guitars, and finally, yesterday.

Yesterday was the last day of the Fringe. Monday. Bank Holiday. It was also Free Hugs day for a handful of couchsurfers who I entierly failed to meet up with. However, that didn't stop me. At 2:15 I was on my way solo to the Royal Mile, sign in hand ready for action. It took courage to open that huge white expanse of posterboard with FREE HUGS written on it in bold black pen, because I knew people would start looking at me. I would become a focal point in the crowd. Still, I grew bold and snapped it open high above my head. I started to walk up the High Street. The results were instantaneous.

I was hugged by young people, old people, tourists, locals, people in cars, toothless old men, busking ukelele players, Fringe Festival Stewards (en masse -- they tackled me from behind), people from India, Spain, France, Itlay, China, America, England, and Ireland, married couples, silly people, women dressed as bondage pigs (?!), other free huggers, students from the University, people waiting in lines, people in wheelchairs, Japanese women holding babies, holiday-making pipe players from Canada, sisters, schoolkids, the entire clientel of an old person's bar which looked really sketchy until I was dragged in by a 70 year old woman with white hair and persuaded to give hugs to everyone therein who turned out to be perfectly sweet if slightly drunk, flyer distributors, businessmen, venue staff, people on the other side of panes of glass, magazine salesmen, people willing to run through traffic for a free hug, beggars, women with megaphones, travellers, transients, hippies, acrobats, people on drugs, children with smiles, people with lovely souls.

I was also given, for free, in return: a shot of whiskey, a kiss, a ticket to a show at the Pleasance Dome, a chance to teach someone Blue Moon on their brand new ukelele, and a ride in a bicycle taxi all the way from The Royal Mile to the Rocket Venues. Not to mention oodles of joy and happiness.

I was picked up and swung around until I couldn't see straight, hugged by the same person three times, tackled by groups of people, blessed by Christians, waved at by people in buses, winked at by traffic wardens, and applauded by passers-by. I've experienced the feeling of wanting to just smile at everyone I pass on the sidewalk before, but sometimes this can be difficult. Not so when one is holding a Free Hugs sign. Practically everyone I passed read the sign and broke into grins and smiles and laughs and giggles. Many of these people didn't approach me for a hug, but did say things like "That's fantastic, amazing, wonderful, excellent, tops, the best, brilliant, etc." to their family and friends. Old women grinned at me, parents read the sign to their children, couples stopped and pointed, everyone had a reaction. Even if I wasn't hugging people, they were feeling happier because they'd seen the sign and laughed.

It all felt amazing. Every hug I got left me grinning from ear to ear, laughing, smiling, happy. It was addictive. I hugged non-stop from 2:15 to 6pm. Striding around downtown until I had to sit down and take a break. I felt wonderful. Just having the sign at my side got me pulled into groups of people who asked for my life story, why I was doing it, where I came from, whether or not I wanted to join them for dinner, etc. What a day.

I saw Andrew Maxwell, an Irish comedian, perform his stand up routine at the Pleasance Courtyard, which was brilliant. It was great to see some really good comedy and laugh until it became physically painful and I was struggling to draw breath. I moved on to a late-night tea house under George IV Bridge called Chai, which was full of lovely eastern lamps and low-set tables. I had some delicious Turkish Delight and then moved on to The Vault, where I was treated to Sh*tty Deal Puppet Theatre Company's Complete History of Oppressed People Everywhere! The most bizarrely hilarious show thus far seen on the Fringe. The company was amazing and the puppets were absurd and it was all a great end to the evening and, indeed, the Festival.

On the way home, even at 11:30 at night on the almost deserted sidewalks of Princes Street, I got six more hugs before boarding a bus for morningside and staggering home to bed. I must've hugged over 100 people. Seen three shows. Eaten tasty food. And finished off the Festival in style.

So today I'm recovering, as is the rest of the city I'm sure. I almost don't want to stay here and watch the Half-Price Hut and the venue markers disappear, the giant upsidedown purple cow deflate, and the crowds thin to normal proportions. Edinburgh remains lovely, but it does seem that the gloomy weather is reflecting the mood of the city as things return to normal after such a fantastic three weeks of madness and creation. And of course, my camera came. The very day the proceedings came to an end. So now I can take boring pictures of trees and cows and other things. Isn't that the way it goes?

You should go hug some strangers now. Really. I reccommend it.