“I’m really gonna miss starting each morning by walking to a coffee shop and having a flat white,” I told Andrew between bites of flaky hazelnut cruffin. He nodded his agreement, still looking surprised to be enjoying his carrot cake bun, which he had only ordered because he’d thought it was a cinnamon bun. Four months later and I can still say I miss those convenient and beautiful coffee shop stops. That morning, a November Monday, we had left our flat with plans to go to Gordon Street Coffee again, having assumed the closer-to-us Milkman locations would have lines down the sidewalks. As we barreled down Cockburn toward precious caffeine, we stumbled in shock as we noticed the lower Milkman location, which had always been too busy for us to pop into, was almost entirely empty. Our plans quickly changed and before we knew it, we were happily ensconced at a window seat.

The clouds still had not returned to Edinburgh and the clay-colored stones glowed with morning sunlight. The city was noticeably calmer again without the weekend traffic, though it did seem like plenty of folks were off work for Armistice Day. We had popped out early, as usual, so we strolled back to the flat to see if Kelsey and Timothy were ready for their own coffees before we caught a bus out of town for the day.

K & T liked the idea of taking advantage of the lack of crowds for another Milkman visit, so this time we stopped in at the upper Cockburn location for their first round and our second. Soon, we were sitting on the wooden benches just outside, watching pigeons pick up crumbs off the cobblestones. “Do you think the espresso is weaker here?” Andrew asked, noting that we were already on our second flat whites of the day, when we would normally have been good to go with just one at home. We all agreed that even though the espresso taste was fantastic, it didn’t seem to have the kick we were used to. But hey, I don’t think any of us truly minded the excuse to load up on more.

Essentially proving our theory correct, K & T needed more caffeine and more than just a pastry breakfast before heading to the bus stop, so down the hill to Gordon Street Coffee we went, so they could get a classic Scottish breakfast roll.

We needed to be on the bus to Roslin—our jaunt for the day—by a certain time, so I had us sprinting to the closest bus stop on South Bridge Street, just to stand there for about half an hour due to delays. Andrew didn’t mind a bit, however, when he realized the stop was situated just in front of a hand pie shop, where he procured what was essentially a pizza hand pie. I rolled my eyes as he waxed poetic about this hand pie, but when he gave me a bite, I had to admit it was actually quite delicious. (Note: He still talks about this hand pie very regularly.)

The double-decker finally came into view, and we were soon climbing the steps to the second floor for better views of the stone city and its outskirts. The 45-minute ride to the tiny town of Roslin gave us the opportunity to fawn over adorable cottages and rolling hills, as well as chuckle when the bus drove us through a large, modern shopping plaza that felt like the bus had transported us all the way back to the US. A group of teenagers sat near us for a while and provided us with some fabulous entertainment as they proceeded to roast the absolute hell out of each other.

Before we knew it, we were on Roslin’s charming main street and walking the long drive to the famed Rosslyn Chapel. I’d had my eye on Rosslyn Chapel in my ultra-nerdy guidebook, and when a local had recommended it to us, I was set on visiting. Built in the fifteenth century as a family chapel, it has become famous for its thousands of intricate carvings—both inside and out. Made entirely of stone, these carvings are truly a marvel and many of them are still complete mysteries today.

We’d made it just in time for an introductory talk given by a staff member. Kelsey and I had snuck into one of the back pews and I fought to give my full attention to the speaker while also swiveling my head in every direction possible, completely mesmerized. It seemed that every square foot of the chapel had been carved, from the tall ceilings to the gothic arches to the hefty pillars. The ceiling is positively covered in carved stars and flowers, and there is a sensation of being watched by thousands of eyes belonging to angels, biblical characters, Green Men, and mysterious monster-like figures. Photos are not allowed in the main area of the chapel, or else I would be overwhelming your eyeballs with countless pictures.

The speaker, who truly did a fabulous job, gave us a basic run-down of the chapel’s centuries-long history and, since the chapel played a role in both the book and movie versions of The Da Vinci Code, touched on its pop culture fame as well. As the chapel is still used by a congregation today, a prayer service began just after our introduction, so we quietly meandered, comparing the carvings to those mentioned in the pamphlet. Even though there are certainly several biblical scenes among the carvings, there are also pagan influences, which I couldn’t get enough of. The pamphlet even suggested we “count the Green Men.” Spoiler alert: I lost count.

We were fortunate to be there on a sunny day, as light streamed in through the colorful stained-glass windows, casting beams of blue and red upon the stones. One of my favorite parts had to be the maize motif carved into one of the window arches, simply because maize—native only to North America—was unknown in Britain when the chapel was built years before Columbus’ trip. I looked into this more once we’d returned home and, according to the chapel’s website, “There is a theory that Prince Henry, the grandfather of the Chapel’s founder, travelled to America nearly 100 years before Christopher Columbus. He is said to have shared knowledge of what he had seen with Sir William, who then incorporated some of the descriptions into the Chapel’s carvings.”

Fearing I was beginning to annoy anyone who had to hear my constant whispers of “Wow,” I popped down the stairs and into the Sacristy, or the Crypt. It’s a simpler space with far less carvings, though some still adorn the walls along with another stained-glass window. As you’ll see, I snuck one lone photo. We had already come on a decidedly uncrowded day, but the Sacristy provided even more quiet. Only one other person was in the small space with me, and they seemed to be taking a moment to pray. I couldn’t blame them, as it did feel remarkably peaceful.

Back upstairs, I looked through the remainder of the chapel with Andrew, my arm growing tired as I pointed at basically everything in sight. Our morning pastries had finally given out and we were suddenly desperate for lunch, so we left K & T to explore some more while we strolled back to the welcome center and its surprisingly fantastic café. On the way, we were distracted by a series of time-lapse videos that showed what the construction of the chapel likely would have looked like over the years and stood there for ten minutes, enthralled by the animated builders.

Finally at the café, I happily ordered a bowl of lentil soup and a savory scone to go with, while A got a scone with jam & clotted cream, and a latte. I think we proceeded to go on about our love of this simple meal just as much as we talked about the chapel. After making a few purchases in gift shop for my mom (you’re welcome, Mama) and just having to buy a Green Man ornament for myself, we were back at the chapel to take in the exterior.

Unsurprisingly, the exterior is just as striking and almost as intricate. I found myself looking at the several medieval pinnacles pointing up at the sky and was even more impressed when I read on one of the exhibit panels that some of the pinnacles had been purposely constructed as hollow in order to function as protective bee houses. When the chapel underwent a major restoration a few years ago, fossilized honeycomb was discovered in one of the pinnacles. Today, bees return to the pinnacles, which is just about one of the most magical things I’ve ever heard.

Once we’d all explored, shopped, and re-caffeinated, we made our way to the entrance of the “Country Park” path, which led us by a lovely old cemetery and along a forested, stone-walled pathway. This Country Park, also called Roslin Glen, is full of historic ruins, pagan carvings, the lovely River North Esk, and other various points of interest. Before we knew it, we could see the red stone ruins of Rosslyn Castle, which was built in the fourteenth century. Its medieval arches and ivy-draped arched bridge are made all the more magical by their forest setting, and we lucky enough to have it all to ourselves.

“Isn’t it wild that that we grew up in West Virginia pretending there were castles in the forests, and here the kids can literally go hang out at castles in the forest?!” Andrew asked, mouth open in awe as he took in our surrounds. I have to admit, I couldn’t help but feel like we were standing in the midst of some fantasy novel. We had heard in the chapel that the castle had been undergoing some restoration, and it was heartening to see that, indeed, some work had been done and part of it was inhabitable again.

The castle itself crowns the top of a hill, so we ventured downward along the path toward the river we could hear swishing along. Vines and mosses hugged stones & trees—an image that always romances the hell out of me. I stood on a footbridge over the North Esk as Andrew perused the riverbank. He was absolutely elated to spot an old piece of iron slag, a remnant of former industry in the area.

Each map of the Glen we’d found stated that the map was not to scale, and we certainly learned that was true. What we thought would be a quick jaunt out to some mill ruins was actually not-so-quick and sunset grew closer and closer as we navigated the forest. I still can’t complain, though, as being surrounded by woodland was a treat after days in urban areas. I had to laugh when we reached the “mill ruins” and there were maybe a couple of foundation stones visible. It was, however, fascinating to see the old photos on a wayside panel of the carpet factory that once stretched out along the river. Many foundation stones along the path were clutched by thick vines, giving the feeling that the earth was reclaiming what had always been its own.

With the sky darkening and a lack of cell phone charge, we trotted back along the path ‘til we were climbing the hill by the castle. I had been feeling bummed that we hadn’t had as much time as I would have liked exploring the Glen, until we reached the top and noticed the blushing glow that fell upon us. A blazing sunset spread across the sky, tinting everything various shades of pink, red, and orange. We hardly moved as we soaked it in and obviously had to take photos with the sunset in the background. “Is it me, or is this the longest sunset ever?” I asked my pals, “They’re usually over in no time.” I’m now convinced Scotland has The World’s Longest Sunsets and should add this to their tourism marketing.

As we made our way back toward the bus stop, we noticed what seemed to be Roslin’s lone pub, at the Original Rosslyn Inn. As a drink sounded fabulous before our bus ride, we opened the door to the stone building, which has been operating as an inn since 1837. I was thrilled to see the pub’s front room filled with locals—always a good sign—and promptly ordered a G&T. As all the tables were full in the front room, we Americans found a spot in a large sitting room packed with cozy sitting chairs, fluffy couches, and various games. We each tried our hand at some wooden puzzles, failing miserably at one of them, and the strenuous mind work brought on the need for some crisps. After lounging and snacking for around an hour and a half, we were back on the second floor of the bus making our way back to lamplit Edinburgh.

Soon after, we were seated at Solti on Drummond Street, me with a gin cocktail with rose, hibiscus, and sparkling wine. It was mine and A’s first time having Nepalese food, and it did not disappoint (I knew it wouldn’t). We all shared a poppadom tray, me reverting to whispering, “Wow,” a thousand times all over again. A & I shared some veggie dumplings, I ordered aloo baingan, and he went into full comfort-mode with cheesy garlic naan. The eggplant and potatoes in the aloo baingan were perfection.

Even though this has, I’m sure, sounded like a full day at this point, it was only around 8:30 pm. So, not wanting to continue our habit of early nights, Andrew requested we do a “mini pub crawl.” Our first stop along our wild and crazy Monday pub night led us back to the Grassmarket, where we stepped inside The Last Drop. This centuries-old stone building abuts the site of what was once the city’s main gallows and its name is a reference to the last hanging there in 1864. Inside, there’s a wall dedicated to the infamous Burke & Hare murders, when two Edinburgh men murdered several people in the 1820s in order to sell their bodies to an anatomist. Morbid history aside, the pub is quite cozy and we enjoyed our drinks (Shocking bit of news: I had a G&T).

During the past week, we had frequently walked by The Scotsman’s Lounge on Cockburn Street and it had always been bustling with live music, so we wanted to give it a go. I’m convinced every local in the general area was there because it was so packed that not only were the windows entirely fogged up, but so were my glasses. It was so packed, in fact, that there was literally no room for us, so we stepped back out into the night.

Only steps later, we rounded the corner onto High Street and spotted the Albanach, which had been largely hidden by scaffolding during our trip. We could tell that under the scaffolding, however, there was a damn fine pub to be enjoyed, so inside we went. In complete contrast to The Scotsman’s Lounge, there were only two other people inside, sipping ales at a table. The pub was so lovely and the staff so friendly that I am still convinced the quiet was only due to the scaffolding. I used the opportunity to order Edinburgh Gin’s Orange Basil Blend with some Indian Tonic while K tried their Botanical Blend. Unsurprisingly, both were delicious and I was wishing I could ship several bottles home.

Our foursome settled around a small table along the stone wall, complete with comfy cushioned sitting chairs. Folks in the UK really understand comfort and hospitality, I’m telling you. We relaxed with our drinks for a while, chatting about the day and discussing our very lax plans for the following day. Andrew found himself quite satisfied with our two pub stops and the mini pub crawl contentedly ended as more of a micro pub jaunt.

Once back in our flat, I wrote in my journal, “Sometimes I think Edinburgh is more charming at night with all of its warm streetlamps.” It’s true, when I look back and picture our most picturesque moments in Scotland, the warm glow of lamplight upon cobblestones features heavily. As does a castle surrounded by forest and the luminescence of The World’s Longest Sunset.

Until Part VII,
Lara