I arrived just under a week ago to the Waverly Station, Edinburgh. With three bags (I don't know how I managed to bring so many things), I trudged up the stairs headed to the station's southern exit and weaseled my phone out of my pocket, fired up the MapsWithMe app, and pinch/zoomed a mental path of street names, rights and lefts, to the apartment where I'd be subletting a room for August.

Going up an alley called a "Close" then another called a "Wynd", I eventually found my way to Valleyfield street. But what was this street number "3/4" all about? Like normal cities, even numbers were on one side, odds on the other. I found building 3 but without Joy's last name on any of the buzzers. Frustrated, I asked a pedestrian group for help and they said "Oh, that means building 3, flat number 4". Aha. Just a cultural thing about symbols. Up the stairs and a knock later, Matt answers the door and welcomes me in, I unload the bags in my room, and chill out in the kitchen with him and drink some tea. Like his girlfriend Joy, they both recently graduated with a Bachelors in Journalism and have taken on paid internships for the festival. Matt's working for an online magazine of The Scotsman and tells me tomorrow is media day at Fringe Central, where various performers pitch their shows to media outlets, and it might be interesting to check out.

After settling in the room, it's getting late and it's best to head out and check out the streets. East on Grassmarket street and up around the West Bow, I had a drink at the Underbelly and bought a ticket for Spank, a midnight comedy show with two lively hosts who also made us dance to a pop song, Mr.Brightside, and Don't Stop Believing.

The next day I finally meet flatmate Joy, who I first met on Skype a few weeks earlier to confirm her apartment was legit before I paypal-ed the deposit funds. We get to know each other over tea (realizing this is a trend), and she mentions a traditional Scottish dance tomorrow night to which she has extra tickets.

I head out to Fringe Central with camera and lenses in tow, taking shots of performers in line for each media outlet. Some are all dressed up, most aren't. The air is a mix of nervous of excited as you can see it in people's faces. I interview some people, and head over to the media office asking about how to get press accreditation.

There are posters. Everywhere. And it's a little overwhelming, but you get used to it and come to appreciate the art direction in many. And somehow or another, the ones that grab your attention just right, make you check out their description when you're browsing the show catalog later on. I end up taking lots of pictures of them for some collage or slideshow.

Sunday I had a free ticket for a show but got the location all wrong, which happens, and so in these situations, especially in semi-rainy weather, you buy a ticket for the next show, which in this case is First World Problems, a humorous critique on social media and the absurdity of people's gripes on petty annoyances in everyday life.

You realize that while worthwhile, paying $17 USD (converted from an already unfortunate pound-to-dollar exchange rate) for what appears to be a student production is steep, and that while taking risks on shows is part of the "experience", let's be more judicious next time.

After getting my phone activated with a new sim, I head out to meet Joy at Assembly George Square in a tent called Spiegeltent Palazzo, with a lot of direction asking until I arrive. This is Ceilidh (pronounced like the name Kailey), featured traditional Scottish folk music and dance. The instructors/showmen get people to have a good time. I shoot pictures and video but don't feel like joining in.

Monday morning. I want to get my press accreditation but also want to present the website as having some kind of supporting material to work off of, not wanting to appear like someone who just wants to attend shows for free. So I gather the material from the media pitch day including photos and audio interviews, curate and edit, throw up a page using Dreamweaver, edit and upload poster photos to a Flickr album, and update the homepage with links to both. UPS guy shows up at the door with business cards for the project, I get excited, finish the online application with an explanation of the web documentary project, and head out the door.

At the media centre, I explain to a staffer about my application, project, and he says I should hear back by tomorrow. So I go buy tickets 3 shows for tonight. Ablutions was a slightly dark story about a bartender in LA, the relationship with his girlfriend and colleagues, and dealing with alcoholism and escape. I then head over to the Assembly Main Hall to see The Factory, an endearing musical from New Zealand about Samoan workers in a garment factory, the hardships endured, their collective bond, and the hopes for a better life. And topping off the night was 50 Shades: The Musical, an absolutely hilarious spoof of the 50 Shades of Grey novel.

Tuesday. Judgement day for accreditation. And the verdict email comes in the afternoon as I'm walking the streets, "...unfortunately you have not been successful in...". Damn. Bummer. Shit. What do I do now? A pain weighs heavily inside, realizing somehow I will adapt. What chance did I really have anyway, considering I had no history in web documentaries, nor produce media for an established outlet of some kind?

While in line to buy tickets for a show, a lady who's going to see a stand-up comedian in 30 minutes offers me a free ticket. Like 90% of all comedians here, he's British and funny at times (despite my relative downtrodden demeanour). The thing about humor is that most often 30-40% of the material is culturally tied to the comedian's country. So politicians, talk show hosts, musicians, and quirks about everyday life in that country will leave you, the foreigner, with a blank face waiting for the act to be funny again.

I head out to see another show, Hunter and Johnny, about the origins of Johnny Depp's friendship with gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson while preparing for playing the role of Hunter in the 1997 film, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Johnny greeted us as we entered the theatre (or rather section of the church building where quite a few Fringe shows are hosted). It's funny, Hunter is eccentric, and I take a picture of the two actors after the show's over. Flatmates in London, they had worked on the show idea for a while, and pieced together a narrative from news clippings and interview clips with Johnny Depp. Having taken courses in New and Gonzo Journalism, they only found it apt to portray the friendship Johnny and Hunter developed.

Wednesday. Sleeping in and not wanting to feel the verdict's bitter disappointment, I head out to see Blood at the Root, a play about high school students and race relations in a Louisiana town. Well written and performed it captured the angst, hopes, awkward feelings and conversations on skin color and identity, the difficulty in identifying cause and effect in provocations and fights, and the bias towards prosecuting black Americans with far higher offences. The impact of the show experienced, as opposed to sound bites, reminded me of online discussions I've seen in the last year, whether regarding equality and race relations in the U.S., France, or in Israel. Regardless of your ethnic background, your daily experiences influence your perceptions, and cannot represent an overall sentiment on the ways things are. Nationalists and bigots are everywhere. As are egalitarians. And everyone in between. Violence and fear can only bring it out further.

The Fringe also hosts events to help performers, like Be a Media Darling: How to Make the Press Love You and Come Back for More, which I attended that afternoon. In a standard university fare lecture hall, Elaine Liner talked about journalists as human beings who are lazy, underpaid, overworked, but like producing good stories. And with tips including targeting the correct writer, crafting great emails, attaching only photos and absolutely under no circumstances PDFs, her charm and love for coaching came out well.

It was time to start saving money on these show tickets by visiting the Half-Price Hut, open from 10-9 everyday. Thing is, you need to know what's on sale today and since there's so many shows, it's impossible to print out or display on a billboard. I don't know how others managed, but I fired up my mobile app and checked out the listings. Which unfortunately refreshes every 26 seconds, meaning swipe scrolls back down to the time you were interested in. Very annoying.

I end up first seeing Abigoliah Schamaun, a New York comic who recently moved to London, talked about with the aid of a big screen slideshow, her funny childhood, sexual adventures, and more. Next up was the Soweto Spiritual Sisters from South Africa, who as you probably guessed, sang a lot of gospel in various outfits. Next was Fire in the Meth Lab, a solo show about an Australian man's growing up with his mean, older brother. And to top the night off was a guided Terror Tour of the city including where public executions took place, a gallery of torture and punishment devices, and haunted vaults beneath the old city bridge.

Thursday was a rest day. Reconsider everything day. Feeling 'Showed Out'. I read some more of The Four Pillars of Self-Esteem, realise where I am and where I don't want to be, talk to Charlie for a bit, go for a run, and start watching season 4 of Game of Thrones.

Friday. It's time to start synthesising the media to date. The Fringe is a very personal experience depending on what you're drawn to. Without any data to back it up, I'd say most people are casual attendees and see 3-5 shows. When looking at the catalog and listings, it seems like 40% of all shows are comedy, which might be free to attend especially if they're hosted in a pub.

The Half Price Hut is a godsend, although seeing what's available is a bit of a pain. You can either go there in person, look at the LED screen, then look up the show name and description in the printed catalog. Or use the mobile app from anywhere, which most annoyingly refreshes the listings view every 25 seconds and you have to rapidly scroll back all the way down to the hour, minutes you were looking.

Sometimes the show descriptions are quite ambiguous and you honestly don't know what the hell it's about, only that the company is perhaps 'innovative' and 'provocative', and perhaps some reviewers' anecdotes and maybe some number of stars. So with that, you take a risk. And it may be absolutely worthwhile. Or a complete waste of time and money. But therein lies the unexpected, the unanticipated. Will it be a joyful surprise or an absolute dud? I took that unknown-plot-chance Saturday with Show 6, from a London company and there was something about a man having run over a chav (British slang for poor trashy person), while driving through a flavella (are we in Brazil now?), he and his friend's search for their real parents following the coup many years ago. Oh boy, I stopped trying to make sense of the near-Vonnegut story and just admired the acting instead.

Next was Brazouka, a dance show about a young Brazilian man's journey from fishing with his dad to becoming a dancer and moving to Paris. Having seen very few dances before, I was captivated by the performers alternating between samba, lambada, capoeira, acrobatics reminiscent of high school cheer, and the playing along as part of each act. Combined with the music, sound effects, and occasional projections, it was remarkable.

Then came the sexy, international criminal, surveillance, and undercover agent drama Notoriously Yours. Debuting at the Adelaide Fringe and making its way here, its film noir style combined with modern elements including mobile phones and hookup app Tinder, gave you a thrilling undercurrent.

Coming to the Fringe wouldn't be complete without seeing a Cabaret show. Lady Rizo gave songs, comedy, interacted with the audience, and gave us her story of having started as a lounge singer on a cruise, to moving to New York with her Latin husband, an open-marriage, and how love and lust couldn't keep them together in the long run.

Took two big chances yesterday. The first was a spoken word show Title and Deed, where at first I thought the actor had forgotten his topics, was a simple and scatterbrained person, but it was all in character. Awkward. But maybe that's another form of British humour. The next was Before Us which was a hilarious, sometimes melancholy, and endearing one-man show combining a keyboard operetta with a story about a last-of-his-species creature in the forest, going to a party, making out with a bird, and climbing a tree where he sees an apparition of his father. Absurd but incredibly funny, he had us all hold hands a couple times and sing along to what at times felt like a simple and sweet Arcade Fire song was playing in the background.

The Chronic Single's Handbook was a spoken word piece on a Boston man's trip around the world and not finding much luck in love on the road, with reflections on dating experiences and relationships back home, before ending with a note of being ready to settle into what may come, without the pressure of wanting to 'date'.

The Sake was a Japanese dance and theatrics piece with elaborate costumes, acrobatics, and sound. Tape had two old friends who meet in a hotel room with lots of awkwardness and confessions around a date rape incident years ago.

To be continued with Scottish modern art museums, Leon Harman, and more.

Written by Mario Vellandi over during the first weeks of the 2014 Edinburgh Fringe Festival.