Could You Love Me?

Edinburgh

Rain falls against my window, like tiny water beads blurring the moving picture outside. I sit dry in the backseat glancing both ways, everywhere is gray. Light gray sky. Cement gray buildings. Cobblestone streets in a monochromatic city.  It's such a contrast from home, a place of warm saturations, sunshine and sandals.  While this isn't my ideal spot for vacation, I'm not here to relax, necessarily. I'm here for exploration and healing. But most of all, inspiration.

I thank the driver and climb out of the car ready to pop open my umbrella. I'll be the tangerine dot walking the historic streets, easy target. Pulling a slim journal from my leather flap bag, I search through the many lists I've accumulated from suggested to highly recommended places.  There's spread pages for dining, sight-seeing and shopping. All my research notes on Edindurgh and Newhaven are scribbled within this book, my help guide for the next 4 months.

After a long flight and cab ride, sitting is no longer an option. I find a place to grab a quick lunch and plan out the rest of my day. I've circled all the museums I want to visit, not to mention the sculptures and architecture along the way. My phone is fully charged as well as my back up power bank. But first, exploration starts with my taste buds as I order a traditional meal of Scottish Haggis with neeps and tatties. Quietly moaning as I eat out of a styrofoam box in front of the window counter, I scroll through the pictures I've taken so far and know I'll have hundreds by the end of the week.

Between sidewalks and staircases, I'm listening to dreamy electric beats through my earbuds, feeding the fantasy of my personal documentary. I keep them in as I observe each marble statue and hung masterpiece, enter in and out of lifts then circle back out to the streets. I stare into a dozen painted eyes and portraits, imagining the control and tiny strokes to reach this  perfection. I miss it. I miss the scent of wet paint and the sounds of a spatula scraping a fresh canvas.

Lingering inside St. Giles Cathedral, founded in 1124, I take in the magnificent organ and stained glass windows. The Gothic structure and detailed ceilings have my neck aching for rest. So much art has overwhelmed me, I must soak it in. I slide into one of the pews and close my eyes, inhaling slowly to smell the distinction between wood and burning candles. Receptive and poised, I utter my devout gratefulness for my health and this awakening adventure.

The culminating highlight of the day finds me in a castle on the hill. I float around eavesdropping on the tours while learning about their tales, secrets and military rituals. It darkens too early, time change is a strange thing to get used to along with shorter days in midwinter. I guess I'll sleep early tonight. Before I find a ride back to my new home, I stop at a friendly pub and enjoy a heavy meal to last me till morning.

Subtle things make me smile, from the gawking tourists, like myself, the Scottish Flag instead of an American one, and random sightings of kilts on men. Another pleasant feeling is opening the lock to my new flat, though shared with two roommates, the price is unbeatable. My room is quaint and narrow. Barely enough space for a twin bed and wardrobe at the other end. Luckily we each have a window as corner lodges have that advantage.

A quick shower then soft pajamas and I'm halfway through my night routine. I remove the lotion from my caddy and slather it over my arms and legs, massaging my right hand for a few extra minutes before slipping on my wrist brace. I check off a few things in my journal and reread the information packet to the sculpture workshop beginning tomorrow. I found plenty of inspiration today and I just hope it's enough to push me past my own limitations.