I traveled a lot around the country as a child, thanks to a go-getter, nomadic Mom who spent much of her twenties on the road herself, but had only crossed the border to Mexico, the Caribbean, England and Italy before I moved to Scotland in 2003.
And my obsession with Europe—and travel in general—was sparked.
I can’t imagine a prettier city—these crappy, faded, low-res images hardly do it justice—and I’m forever dreaming about the day I can return (and take better photos with my now-fancier camera equipment while at it). I don’t know what it is about Edinburgh, but it’s quite simply intoxicating. It’s one of those cities where, nine times out of ten, if a person has been there, you’ll here him quote it as his favorite. It’s no different for me. If the weather were just a wee bit better, there would be no more appealing place to live.
There are some things I miss dearly, like Finnegan’s Wake, this lively Irish pub in the middle of the Grassmarket.
Random bagpipers down the street from my Cowgate flat.
Hikes up Arthur’s Seat, which towers above the center of town.
The view from there once you reach the summit.
Being a part of the University of Edinburgh Ultimate Frisbee team, where hazing required slurping down a PITCHER of Stella from a Frisbee out of a straw. In a minute flat, if I may brag for a moment.
These two ladies, Francie and Evan, who were my partners in crime. (Francie’s now married to the Irish guy we met the first week there; Evan’s in med school in Minnesota and accompanied me on my trek through the Canadian Rockies last year.)
Living a street down from the Castle (from which this is the view) and not too far from Prince’s Street and the gardens either.
And, um, deep-fried Mars. Wait, you’ve never tried one? Yeah, we can’t be friends anymore.
Oh, Edinburgh, someday I will be back…for good. Or for a long(er) while, at least.