Second Last Day in Edinburgh

Is it possible to feel so much in just one day?

At 11am, I was making my way to South Queensferry, riding high on a fresh, crisp morning breeze; I was totally psyched and excited about my mini day-trip to Inchcolm Island.

On Inchcolm Island, I found myself surrounded in a oasis of peace and quiet. I ate my packed lunch whilst lounging on a field overlooking the Firth of Forth. A colony of gulls circled the rock-face in front of me.

The late afternoon saw me falling deeper into a state of lazy indolence as the glare of the sun got stronger. I hitched a ride from a very kind stranger to Dalmeny station, where I waited for the 3.50pm train back to Waverley. It was a surreal feeling, waiting alone along a hot, dusty railroad which shimmered weirdly under the sun's rays. The tracks seemed to go on for forever, before dissolving into a pool of searing light (almost mirage-like) at the horizon.

By 5pm, I was gratefully nursing a cup of freshly brewed tea at Anteaques with buttered scones on the side. I drank out of delicate china, and stirred sugar into my tea with an ornate silver tea-spoon. I was surrounded by the strains of opera, and a low murmur of voices, punctuated by the occasional clink of tea cups.

At 7pm, I was changed, refreshed and ready to head out again.

At 7.30pm I found myself in a warm, cosy den at the Waverley Bar where I attended the monthly session of Guid Crack - a local story-telling club. I was delighted and utterly charmed by the various stories told that evening: a little old lady recalled an amazing voyage she undertook across Scandinavia in the days after World war 2 - her memories foraging for food while on the road, and sleeping under the stars were recounted with palpable excitement, as evinced in the tremor of her voice and the animated light in her eyes. Fables from Greenland and Iceland were also told with gusto by the other story-tellers of the night, while everyone joined in to sing Ally Bally, a popular Scottish lullaby.

By 9pm, I was making my way to Cartlon Hill determined to catch the sunset. I felt an inexplicable surge of adrenaline as I ran across Market Street, spying the silhouette of the Scott Monument framed against an already ochre sky. Strangely enough, I felt as if I were rushing desperately against time - racing toward the hill while it was still light...and also perhaps, a response to my impending departure? In any case, I ran up Carlton Hill just to see the sun sink gracefully behind the distant mountains - possibly the last sunset I would ever see in Edinburgh.

As I made my way down Carlton Hill, I bumped into a new visitor to Edinburgh from Thailand. Joe has been in the UK for 2 weeks, and just arrived in Edinburgh today. I chatted with him a little about Singapore art, studying History in NUS and understanding the Scottish accent. I also advised him on how to find Portobello Beach, and gave suggestions about what he could do tomorrow - it is gratifying to know that after 5 months, I'm able to generally guide newcomers to the city. And not too long ago, I was in Joe's position, wondering whether there were any subways in Edinburgh.

At 10pm, I had a rather saddening encounter with Gary, a homeless person who begs along North Bridge road. A cash offering resulted in a long conversation where he relayed his problems to me including a recent attack by a hammer-wielding punk. He's been on the streets for 10 years which I was shocked by. Squatted next to him while chatting, and received quizzical looks from passer-bys; I cannot imagine being the target of such gazes every day for ten years. Gary notes that he's embarassed and has lost all self-confidence, but simply doesn't know how to get out of it.

It is sobering to think that the couple of pounds I spend so easily on a meal makes a world of a difference to people like Gary. He couldn't stop shaking my hand after I offered him money, and that was what initiated the whole conversation. I think he was really desperate to talk to someone and to prove (in his words) that he's a 'good man' who wants to get off the streets, but isn't able to/sure how to. And the worst part is, (and he's uncomfortably right) most well-to-do Edinburghers don't care about people like him.

I'll admit it's hard, but next time you see a homeless person (there are quite a few here), do try talking to them. Every little bit of concern helps.