Dear Edinburgh.

Dear Edinburgh;

I miss you. I know I’ve left you before, and I know I’ve gone back to a cool place that I also like very much, but this time is different. This time I can’t come back. (Alright, I CAN come back and I WILL for a few days, but you know what I mean. I can’t live there anymore. It’s killing me.)

In the days before I had to leave you, my friend, I sat a few times at the top of Arthur’s Seat and looked. (Once, with a friend and a bottle of wine in the sun, it was lovely). It’s what I liked to do. From Arthur’s Seat, from Calton Hill, from Princes Street Gardens, from the North Bridge – for almost two years I spent a lot of time just looking at you. I never tired of it. I never stopped being in love with how damn beautiful you are.

I lucked out, when I first arrived. I wandered the streets with my CV after only a few days, and almost immediately found myself working at a glorious little pub; family-owned, cozy, and yet in the middle of the Royal Mile. The people there became my family, the pub my home. (My boss Marie once felt she had to tell me I couldn’t actually live there.)

You’re the biggest small town I’ve ever seen. Though a city of almost 500,000, I could walk everywhere I wanted to go. I could decide I wanted to meet a friend at a pub and be there with them in 10 minutes. I would constantly run into people I knew on the street. I got to know the guy who sold me newspapers, the guy who cleaned the windows, the boys who sold us breakfast and coffee at our favourite, uh, breakfast and coffee place. I usually had at least one friend who lived just across the street from me, or around the corner.

No offence, Canada, I do really miss my family and friends of course, but for Edinburgh I feel homesick. When I’m there I feel like I belong somewhere.

So I’m wracking my brain now. I’ve used up my 2-year visa and can’t apply for another one. I could go back as a student but can’t afford the tuition fees. I don’t fall into the ‘highly-skilled’ category (apparently an ability to pour pints, or to construct grammatically-correct sentences, won’t earn me special visa privileges). Several people offered to marry me, but unfortunately none of them really meant it.

Edinburgh, you’ve ruined me. Though I want to keep travelling (gawd, there’s so much of the world left to see), I don’t really want to live anywhere else.

So I guess that’s me, for now. I’m barred from my favourite place. Don’t ever expect me, though, to stop planning my return.

Aasa.

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About aasaelsewhere

I like Saskatchewan fine, but am hitting the road soon anyway. First on the itinerary: Portugal, England, Ireland, then England again. I have Yellow Fever immunity, a pending visa, and a blank passport, and can't promise anything.
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2 Responses to Dear Edinburgh.

  1. Oh Aasa, my heart breaks for you!

  2. Karla Marshall says:

    Ok that’s it…………the top of my bucket list is to have all of us go to Edinburough andyou be our tour guide!

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