Elie

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Elie is a very colourful town. Colourful and jumbly. Its streets - some narrow, some broad - are lined with all manner of cottages painted in bright colours, blue and red and green and pink and yellow and white. It is utterly beautiful. The name of its adjacent cousin, Earlsferry (although Elie and Earlsferry like to think of themselves as individual places with the latter being more regal than the former, these days they are joined at the hip and essentially one and the same), is said to take its name from 'the boatmen who ferried Macduff across the Firth when he was fleeing from the fury of Macbeth.'
There's not much in the way of what you might term ticket-paying tourist attractions or 'experiences', and that's a good thing. I think the unspoken consensus of opinion is that being by the sea is attraction enough, and in the case of Elie, and Earlsferry, that is most certainly the case. It is a place where time stands still, and long moments may be spent doing nothing more than looking. You can sit on a bench and look across the wide Firth of Forth towards many far-off hazy features, like the pimple of North Berwick Law. Or you may look up at the sky and let your mind be soothed. For Elie is a place to truly relax in. You may even stroll along the golden beach keeping your eyes peeled for 'rubies', or small garnets, which are said to be found right here. And you may stroll into the delightful innards of Elie's Ship Inn to quaff fine ale, munch good food, and ponder such matters as, 'Who the heck was Macduff?'