The adventures of Max

The plane circles the airport and the city pokes through the clouds. From the air, Edinburgh is a cluster of pin pricks blackened by distance. As the nose of the plane starts to slant, the city swells into shapes and colour, a mosaic of greenery swimming with gothic churches and salt-and-pepper cobblestone. How did I end up here? The short answer: to become briefly acquainted with history and see some castles. But I quickly became entangled in a love affair with the city and remain here some two years later.

As we traverse the city on a free walking tour, a bagpipe's reedy notes persevere despite the rain, drawing tourists and locals alike. This is the Old Town, the tour guide announces, a grid of black cobblestone freckled with shops that are painted blue, red, purple and yellow.The guide is a university student and his thick accent bears traces of his years in the highlands of Scotland. We venture past 'The Last Drop', a popular bar. Its doors swing open, seemingly welcoming us to edge into its crowd, with the sound of laughter and clinking bottles leaking out into the street. All of these sounds swirl into a single sensation: warmth.


Edinburgh castle is the peak of the city, and the vestiges of the volcano that once threatened to blot out the city.
The castle stands in the heart of the Old Town, with bullet holes in its limestone walls a reminder of the brutality that once scored its face. Entering the castle, signs of ancient conflict hang in the rooms, with guns from the fifteenth century lining the hallways. The curved walls are the remains of a fortress where cannons once blasted enemies.

Edinburgh is also one of five UNESCO cities of Literature.
Notably, it is home to The Elephant House - the cafe where J. K. Rowling penned the Harry Potter series. Aspiring writers flock here, hopeful, and there is a distinct rhythmic chattering of keyboards and furious scribbling that fills the air. Double shot espresso seems to form the bulk of the diet of its heavy-eyed patrons, who remain glued to their seats for hours, determined the path carved by the indentations of Rowling. And I sit here myself doing the exact same thing.

I dread the day when I have to leave, the telescoping of memories of months and years into a blur.
How did I get here? The new question is: 'How can I stay here permanently?'