“I don’t think any of us can believe it’s our last day in this gorgeous city, it has flown by so quickly. I’m excited to go back and see our fur babies, but know I’ll miss aspects of this trip, like walking to get coffee, being surrounded by storybook beauty, having the privilege of leisurely exploring each day, and making more memories with our dear friends.” This is what I wrote in my journal on that November Wednesday morning. (Journal me sounds far more respectable than real life me.)

The previous day had been quite relaxed, though Andrew and Timothy had woken up extra early to walk the half hour to Lannan in Stockbridge, only to get there, wait outside, and then discover they were closed all day. They didn’t let this prevent them from bringing their wives pastries and stopped at Milkman instead. So, I never got to try Lannan, but I did enjoy a delicious cherry pistachio danish. After a morning of thrifting, we’d split up and K & T headed to the Scottish Galleries while A & I made our way back to Leith for a few hours.

This day, we were starting at the fittingly popular Edinburgh Larder, which I’d had to make reservations for days earlier. Lo and behold, we were sat at the best table in the house, right in front of their large front window. We ordered various mixtures of espresso & steamed milk, all delicious. A & I went for the waffles with spiced apple, gingerbread cream, and walnut crumble. Absolutely divine and not too sweet. The staff were wonderfully friendly and took the time to chat with us, and didn’t mind a bit when we ordered another round of espressos to fortify us for our upcoming hike.

Surprisingly, there were still parts of the Royal Mile we hadn’t yet stepped foot, specifically the eastern end. I was relieved when it quickly became narrower and much less busy, just like any other street. We passed several wool shops and made note of each close we passed, like Old Playhouse Close and Bakehouse Close (which immediately had my mouth watering even though we’d just had breakfast). When we spotted Dunbar’s Close, I remembered I’d read that it’s worth a look, so we popped through the iron gate and entered what felt like a secret garden. Even in November, we were surrounded by the greenery of ivy, boxwoods, and herbs, as well as blooms of what looked to be late hollyhocks and roses. Evergreen borders and waddle beds created separate garden spaces and fruit trees cascaded over our heads, all nestled beautifully within centuries-old stone walls. We oohed and aahed, gathering inspiration for our own gardens. On the wall, a sign states that the garden space was donated to the City of Edinburgh by the Mushroom Trust, which may be the cutest thing I’ve ever read and is most definitely a group I’d join.

As we reached the end of the Royal Mile, we spotted the famous Palace of Holyroodhouse, the King’s residence in Edinburgh. A palace indeed, it’s enormous (no surprise) with numerous stone turrets adding to its stateliness. We weren’t interested in venturing inside, so we made our way into a side garden, where we spotted Hagrid’s hut. Okay, not really, but it most definitely could pass for it. “Queen Mary’s Bath House” is an absolutely adorable two-story tiny stone cottage that somehow fits two chimneys. Peering inside any way we could find, we spotted a winding staircase and tile floor. Eager to know more, I later read that it was built in the late sixteenth century as a garden pavilion for the palace. Tearing myself away from my dream house, our hike was about to begin, but first I had to stop and complain about the abomination of modern architecture that is the Scottish Parliament building. I can’t even bear to include a photo—it’s too much for my historic architecture-loving heart. Since I have seen and heard countless complaints about this building already, I’ll move on.

Finally, the hike I’d been waiting months for. We stood at the base of Arthur’s Seat, the extinct volcano that can be seen from almost anywhere in Edinburgh. Sun streamed through the sparse clouds and a light breeze blew—utter perfection. Wasting no time, we started up the path, following several other folks. Gorse covered much of the mountainside, with lots of heather scattered as well. We passed the ruins of St. Anthony’s Chapel, built in the fifteenth century. In no time at all, I was unzipping my coat and huffing from the incline, but the incredible beauty truly pushes you to keep going and see more. I hadn’t expected the pinnacle to be heavily crowded, but hardly a thing could take away from looking out over the stretching city and its suburbs (Hi, Leith!). The blue sea went on forever beyond the coast. As we were trying to take in this stunning scene, I began stumbling, the heavy winds turning my coat into a sail and literally threatening to pull me over the side. It makes me laugh to think back on it now, but at the time Andrew looked horrified as he watched me begin to topple, holding onto me for dear life as I rezipped my coat and quickly made my way out of the wind.

One of the many, many things I loved about this ancient volcano was that it’s made up of several hills you can explore in addition to the peak of Arthur’s Seat. The four of us meandered around Crow Hill, aptly named, as we spotted numerous crows along its mossy ridge. Aside from the occasional trail runner, we had this spot to ourselves, taking in as much of the incomparable view as we could. “I don’t know what’s up with the ground here, but it feels tempurpedic,” Timothy said, and we all hopped around as if on the moon, agreeing. Whether from the abundance of moss or maybe the nearby bog, it felt downright luxurious.

By the time we were ready to descend, we spotted a much simpler-looking path that went down the back side of the mountain. It took a good bit longer, but was more relaxed and allowed us to see Dunsapie Loch and its swans, as well as more park area. Street after street of lovely stone and brick houses extended from the park edge and I found myself incredibly envious of not only the folks living in those nearby houses, but of all living in that beautiful city within walking distance of the magical ancient volcano. At the bottom, we came to St. Margaret’s Loch, which is beautifully-hugged by the mountainside and held more swans & gulls than I’ve ever seen in one place.

After a couple hours of being in constant awe, all four of us desperately needed a restroom and the only ones in sight resided within my new arch nemesis: the Parliament building. I hated even going inside, as if I were enabling and abetting ugly architecture, but needs must. In order to pop in, we had to go through security, which I totally get, but poor Kelsey had to be patted down after a buckle on her jeans seemingly made it look on the scanner as if she were packing heat into Parliament. I’m convinced this was somehow the fault of the atrocious building, which must be cursed. It would only make sense. I will say, the gift shop wasn’t half bad and K & T purchased a few items before we left.

In need a of a good post-hike afternoon pick-me-up, we dropped things off at the flat and walked the block to the Milkman on Cockburn. This would be our last Edinburgh coffee stop, since we were leaving early the next morning, so we took time to soak it in. I was thrilled to see that, after days, they once again had the blueberry bun I’d fallen head over heels for our first day in town. We fortuitously found open benches out front and double-fisted our flat whites and pastries.

Before long, it was time for K & I to have a little bit of the gal time we’d planned via a workshop. From the flat, we strolled Cowgate and then made our way up Candlemaker Row, already reminiscing about aspects of the trip we’d miss, but also voicing our excitement to have homemade food again, which made me feel ancient to say. Before we knew it (truly, because we actually walked past it), we were at the charming shopfront of one of the Islander locations, which hosts Harris Tweed bag-making workshops. I had found this workshop online months before, and I have to say, it was 100% worth all the excitement I’d felt.

We were led up into a second-floor workspace, where all the attendees got comfy around tables. After a bit of a how-to, everyone got to peruse numerous bag options (tweed design, bag color, leather strap colors, etc.), make their choices, and head back to the tables to construct. I was incredibly glad to be doing this workshop with a friend, as without Kelsey I don’t know if I would have ever been able to settle on choices. Throughout the workshop, which looked to be sold out, it was very sweet to notice that everyone else seemed just as chuffed to be there as K & I, and many had made it into a special occasion. I absolutely love the bag I made, and proudly carried it all throughout winter (and whenever I received any compliments on it, I loved exclaiming, “I made it!”), but my favorite part may very well have simply been the welcoming, fun energy we were surrounded with.

By the time we finished the workshop, the fellas were already in the midst of their plan to head to Port of Leith Distillery, where we’d take the tram to meet them after. A & I had visited the distillery the day before and had loved it so much we told K & T they absolutely had to join us there for our last evening. After another stop by the flat, where I immediately tossed my other handbag aside like a dirty rag for my new one, we walked to New Town and caught the tram out to the sea. We had managed to board the tram right around 5:00, so we were rather hilariously squeezed into it with countless commuters. I don’t know if I have ever been pressed up against so many strangers. Thank goodness it was a short trip.

Once at the distillery, I was both shocked and proud to find that even though Andrew and Timothy had arrived a couple of hours before, they had slowly sipped only one cocktail each (I don’t know if I would have had this amount of willpower, to be honest). It was a surprisingly slow evening at the distillery (this place is so good they should never have a slow evening), so we enjoyed a sprawling table in front of one of the bar’s many floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the sea. Within the distillery’s large building on the port, the bar sits within the 8^th floor with truly spectacular views of its surroundings. When A & I were there the day before, we explored the entire floor, taking in all the views we could and Googling points of interest, like a nineteenth-century stone defensive building called Martello Tower, as well as various lighthouses and ships. K & I arrived just as the sun was setting, but even after it was fully dark, we were able to take in the glow of streetlamps and lights aboard boats.

I immediately ordered a gimlet, not only because it’s often a go-to for me, but also because the one I’d ordered there the day before was the best I’ve ever had. I was also starving and didn’t even wait for anyone else before jumping to order a bowl of apple chestnut bisque, roasted beets with whipped tofu “feta,” and Perello gordal picante olives, which Andrew and I have been obsessed with for ages and constantly lament not being able to easily procure in the States. Everything A & I’d had the day before had been incredible, so I was completely unsurprised when my gimlet was perfectly balanced, the bisque was lightly sweet and creamy in the best way, and the roasted beets were perfectly tender. Among the other dishes the rest of our foursome ordered were two local cheese plates, which everyone agreed were delicious. Kelsey ordered the fortified wine flight, which I have never seen offered on any menu before, and was kind enough to let me have a sip of each, which taught me that I prefer white port to red, and also that I like very dry sherry, which I hadn’t expected, as fortified wines are generally too sweet for me. My dessert drink of choice was called Rhubarb Cobbler (Manzanilla sherry, Oloroso sherry, rhubarb, and cardamom), which sounds very sweet, but was actually really light and refreshing.

To our absolute delight, one of the staff members had come in on her night off and brought her two tiny chihuahuas, one of whom seemed to be no more than a week old and laid adorably on a makeshift bed. Any time the human mom walked away, the elder of the dogs (CeCe) stood protectively by the puppy without leaving and I’m pretty sure I was almost brought to tears by the adorableness (and most definitely not by the effects of multiple drinks). When the puppy was being otherwise guarded, CeCe felt free to come visit our table for numerous pets and other various forms of fawning. 10/10 would recommend this experience.

After at least three hours of sipping, munching, and dog-cuddling, we had to tear ourselves away to be responsible and pack. While K & T were very smartly grabbing a couple of bottles in the gift shop, I ordered a hot chocolate to-go (Port of Leith has a full coffee bar and it is fantastic) for a little last-night comfort.

Back in our flat on Old Fishmarket Close, we bittersweetly packed and then beautifully capped the night off by all watching episodes of Keeping Up Appearances together and cackling ridiculously (little-known fact: KUA is in my top three shows of all time and I will forever wax poetic about its impeccable contribution to television and culture).

The morning came all too early and A & I had to make our way to the tram, luggage in hand, before the coffee shops even opened. K & T had very kindly woken up early to see us off and I was envious of their later flight. I’ve said this before, but getting to the airport and through security on time tend to give me anxiety (even though I always leave waaaay before necessary), so I was incredibly grateful for the ease of taking the tram to Edinburgh Airport, and for the fact that it’s a relatively small and easy-to-navigate airport. We had a few hiccups, including my cardigan rather hilariously getting caught in a conveyor belt and holding up the line (the sweater came out unscathed!), but our half-empty flight from Dublin to Hartford meant we got to stretch out, savor some quiet, and enjoy our gin & gingers. (Side note: I let my liver recuperate for a few weeks after this trip.)

As I mentioned back in Part I, A & I hadn’t experienced the kinship with Edinburgh we’d anticipated beforehand. It was stunning and we enjoyed it, yes, but I had expected to want to pack up our lives and move there after everything I’d heard about it over the years. This is nothing against that fairytale city, especially since it’s obvious that thousands of people do gladly pack up and move there each year. The Cotswolds had gotten under my skin and refused to relinquish its hold on me, so I was simply surprised to not feel the same about an equally-beautiful city/region. All this being said, once I got past the bittersweet feeling of returning to our everyday schedules, I made peace with feeling differently than I had expected and reminded myself that just because we don’t fall head-over-heels for a place we visit, it doesn’t make the experience any less enjoyable or valuable. Pleasure travel is always an incredible privilege that pulls us from our day-to-day schedules and responsibilities and gives us peeks into life in another place. We were also wonderfully privileged to take an international trip with friends, and with these dear friends we generally only see once a year. It’s rather magical to make these kinds of lasting memories with the people you love.

We wandered countless cobblestone streets, gulped down numerous flat whites, savored cozy pubs, explored castles, perused vintage shops, admired centuries-old gravestones, climbed an ancient volcano, and so, so, so much more. There was a time when I could have only dreamed of such a trip, and now it resides within whatever nook of my brain holds my most cherished memories.

Here’s to the next trip,
Lara