I didn't want to post twice today, but after I writing the last post, I went on a walk by myself, and feel like I should record my impressions. I apologize to those reading. I have flights of fancy and often enjoy playing with the language and thoughts that I write as much as the actual description. I will attempt to keep this foray short.
I went walking by myself. It was 7:30pm BST, and I walked until 10pm. In the States this would mean I got home well past dusk. Here, it is now 10:30pm and the sun has still not set completely. I have walked among a 4 hour sunset. Romantic it sounds, and romantic it was. I'm not someone who abandons himself to moments like these, preferring thoughtful, controlled reflection to utter abandonment of the moment, but walking the streets of Edinburgh -- alone, without direction, totally lost to be honest -- I savored the moments. I only wish I had my camera working. I saw many shots I would have liked to take, but then, perhaps that would have ruined the divine steady pace of the evening, my steps marking time with the descending sun. I cannot share what I saw, only how it made me feel as I walked, but perhaps that is fitting.
Walking down to the Meadows on my own, I watched people lay in the sun, which at 8pm still felt like 6 in the evening. I walked among transverse beams of light making everything look dramatic: bark stood out on trees; faces of people softened from the bulbous pinks of the noon sun but avoided the menacing shadows of the deep evening; shadows stretched longer and longer, imaginable but not monstrous. The green of the grass was vibrant, feasting on the rain given over the past few days. But I passed it by without too much of a glance, only wistfully wishing I had my camera.
I entered the city scape and looked at the repetitive architecture, not repulsively identical but meaningfully similar. As I passed pubs, I heard laughter, and I felt lonely. I understood in a flash the way characters in books feel: those who watch from outside and envy those inside. I did envy them. They drank and laughed. Who knows how many wonderful conversations were going on in the city at this moment, and I was not in one. But I didn't enter a pub. I could have. 10 pounds in my pocket said I could. But I didn't, savoring the odd sensation of loneliness, mostly because at the moment it suited me; I liked it. What kept me away, though. Fear? Fear of walking into a complete unknown, ordering a drink with the odd sensation that everyone was watching you but the full knowledge that no one marked you at all, or the ensuing moments of foolishness that would occur as the failures at making effective small talk mounted to unsurmountable awkwardness. No. No, I stand aloof from that. In my foolishness, I find the sense of comfort that convincing yourself that you never actually desired something you wanted gives. (Don't feel sorry for me; I was just being pensively thoughtful.)
So I continued to walk, down to the Holyrood castle, which I will visit closer soon. More pangs for my camera. I hope I have another gorgeous day like this one soon. I'm surprised that it is still light out. If I was a complete ignoramus, I would think this is the most perfect place on earth. It has eighteen good hours of daylight. I know, however, that they pay for it in the winter, and I"m stealing sunlight from those who rightfully earned it in the December months. It is so beautiful, cool, and pleasant, however, that I don't even manage to feel guilty.
Walking back through the meadows, I feel alone again, but as one among many who are also alone. There is solidarity in that. Sure there are groups, but in voyeuristic contemplation I feel connected to them through my observation. I spend five quid at the grocery store on beer, cookies and milk (a snack) and head back.
When I get back to the flat, Ben is still asleep (I wore him out today walking all over the city), but his roommate, Rafa is up. My earlier thoughts ebb away as we talk. He offers me some pizza, and I wash it down with the Grolsch I purchased. I knew that when I came back, he would be here.
The walk filled with loneliness was pleasant; It was pleasant in a way that buying milk and cookies with a foreign currency can be pleasant.
It is dark outside now.
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