The first event that we were attending at the Fringe was not a show at all, but rather a family arts and crafts hour that I had found. Since the day before had been so intense and energy consuming, I had taken care to choose something that wasn’t too early; so of course, I chose the 10AM arts and crafts that was about fifteen minutes away from our hotel, by car. (Or, I thought it was at 10AM…)

We packed ourselves into the back of an Uber as I pulled up our QR code tickets, a bit stressed about the time. The morning had started a bit later than originally planned, but I hoped that this venue was flexible enough, or that our driver was fast enough, that we wouldn’t miss anything.

The venue was the Royal Scots Club, a well respected luxury hotel. It was open to the public due to multiple Fringe events being held there, and we hurried in with ten minutes to spare. There was a table set up with a young woman sitting behind it, but besides her – the rest of the space was empty.

“Are you here for the family arts and crafts?” She asked as I pulled out my QR code. She looked to Jamie as she said this, his existence being the clue to why we were there. When we said yes, she checked the time and said, “well, they’re not here yet, but let me check. How about you go sit in the living room?”

She motioned behind us to a very pristine looking parlor. The walls were covered in photos of army men and various groups of them, their names displayed underneath on small plaques. The furniture was well kept and old fashioned, plush and brown leather couches surrounding a cold fireplace. To the right of the parlor’s archway entrance was a bar area with a few tables and chairs. We sat down on the couches, studying the room and commenting on the overall niceness before settling into a comfortable silence.

“What kinds of arts and crafts are we supposed to be doing?” My mom asked.

“Well, the picture on the website showed… er, hand flowers,” I replied, spreading my fingers out. I wasn’t wrong; the advertisement showed painted handprints on a sheet of paper. 

“Is this arts and crafts for families with babies?” My mom laughed, and I felt a sense of dread hit me. 

“Oh, my god,” I breathed out. My mom couldn’t stop her teasing smile, even as I hung my head. “Wait, it might be. Oh, my god. I signed us up for baby arts and crafts.”

“It’s fine,” my mom patted my shoulder supportively, though she still laughed lightly. “It’ll be fun anyways.”

“Maybe older kids will still show up,” I glanced hopefully at the entryway, which had remained empty since we had come in. “If… anyone else does show up.”

People walked through the room almost constantly, but none seemed to be the host of the arts and crafts event that I had signed up for. No other families entered the area, either, and I had a fear that no one else would actually be at this arts and crafts – if it was going to happen at all. It was 10:10AM, and my restlessness was egged on by my mom who said I should go ask the lady at the front what time the (possibly baby) arts and crafts was actually going to happen. Timidly, with a mixture of embarrassment and humor, I walked over. 

“Hello,” I waved at her with the energy of an awkward character in a coming of age movie. (Not necessarily a good thing.) She smiled at me and nodded for me to ask whatever it was I had come over for. “So… that arts and crafts… when is it happening again?”

Her eyes flicked to her computer, and she typed something in. I shifted my weight, waiting for the ball to drop–

“Oh, it’s at eleven.”

Yeah.

We had a bit of accidental time to kill, so we walked around the street nearby. There were plenty of art shops, which were out of our price range but lovely to look at through the windows. Along with the art, there were dogs, out on their morning walks and bursting with energy.

When we reentered the Royal Scots Club, the seating area was bustling with families. This was a comforting sight to see; there were other attendees now! We were back on schedule! However, the comfort disappeared with a closer inspection to those families that were made up of parents and (mostly)… toddlers.

The feeling of dread that had begun forty minutes before returned, but my mom refused to let me commiserate. There was fun to be had with “kiddy” arts and crafts, and we were going to make the most of it. The woman that was running the event, an about-to-retire primary school teacher, began to greet everyone right after we got our stick-on name tags. She was kind and spoke with the calming yet commanding voice of a schoolteacher, and it seemed that everyone in the room, adult and child, responded respectfully. 

She led us all down into the basement area of the Club, where the event spaces at the venue were built. One of these event spaces was set up as a theater, with a stage and raised chairs, but it had been taken over by the morning’s arts and crafts. There were tables in front of the stage, piled with magazine pages, cartoon strips, and a few little tartan highland cow cut outs.

Once every family was situated at a station, the arts and crafts began. There were three pieces that would be made over the following hour: a headband representing Edinburgh, a floral paper clock, and a painted version of Edinburgh Castle. I spent the entire time working on my headband, using the limited amount of supplies to make a headband that ended up being an almost psychedelic aesthetic. Jamie, working with my mom, did all three of the projects. His headband was food themed, with various drinks and dishes from the magazine pages pasted at the top of the band, while the body of it had the words “I’m Only Here For The Food” written on it. He quickly moved on with the rest of the group to his floral clock and painted Edinburgh Castle, all while I meticulously cut out and arranged tiny butterflies and flowers from the magazine page I had chosen.

At the end of the hour, both Jamie and I had spent all of our creative energy, and I had no regrets signing us up for the family arts and crafts hour. My mom had been right — it had been fun.

The next event that we had to get to was the first show of our Fringe. We had a bit of time between, and Jamie’s painting of Edinburgh Castle was not even near drying, so we took an Uber back to the hotel. Figuring out how the venues worked for the Fringe was a process I was still grappling with, but at least this one was a mere ten minute walk from our hotel. It turned out, after closer inspection, that most of the major show venues were in that radius, which made everything ten times easier. 

The show that I had bought tickets for was called No Dragon No Lion. It was marked under the “Dance, Physical Theatre and Circus” tag on the Fringe website, and from what I could tell, it seemed like a fun show to kick off our Fringe experience. It was being put on by a group called the TS Crew in association with a larger performing group, Hong Kong Soul. I had no idea what to expect as we walked in the doors of the small theater, and I was hoping that Jamie and my mom were excited for it as I was.

The theater entrance was a thin hallway, the walls plastered with posters for other shows. A table was set up for the people that were checking tickets, fliers piled on top of the table. It was amazing to see the range of shows being advertised. We had arrived a mere five minutes before the show started, and the audience seating was full in the front with about three rows clear in the back. As we made our way up, I took in the ambiance of the setting; the low lighting, the black curtains, the marly stage. It was a very familiar setting for a previous high school performer such as myself, and I felt comforted. Being at the Fringe, surrounded by fellow creatives and performers, made Edinburgh feel like home.

The show began, and we were thrust into a fifty minute spectacle of the human body and its capabilities. The performance was a mix of dancing and martial arts to a variety of music, ranging from Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars to a variety of classical ballet compositions, all of which were interspersed with interview lines from an unidentifiable martial artist discussing the importance of knowing your body. There were plenty of laughs and plenty of gasps of amazement, and even though the theater felt almost too small for the feats that were being performed, they were pulled off with a skill and grace that left the audience in awe until the very end. 

Leaving the venue, I picked up a flier for the show and a large Festival Fringe book that showcased all of the shows that were being put on. Two souvenirs that would also be good for my journaling. As I flipped through the pages of the heavy book full of performers, mind settling from my first official day experiencing the Fringe, I knew that a mere ten days would never be enough to satiate my desire for live performance.

Oh, damn – I guess that means I’ll just have to come back to the Festival Fringe. What a shame.