Edinburgh : A Return

The bus ride from Glasgow to Edinburgh bus terminal at St Andrews Square was filled with the non-stop clattering of a fellow Chinese guy speaking in authentic Scottish accent, in operatic volume. Like an encyclopedia of gadgets and tech, he gave endless advice to his poor journey neighbour who innocently asked only one question. And one hour passed, being forced to eavesdrop when you really don’t intend to – a familiar situation especially on public transport.

dsc_3226.jpg

Though as serial travelers, we have an uncontrollable and subtle addiction to the feeling of arising out of the train/bus/plane into a totally new strange city, this time I actually felt the comfortable embrace of Edinburgh welcoming me back to familiar territory. I know exactly where to take the bus, which bus number takes me where and what joy, what I want to get from Sainsbury on Rose Street.

I secretly smiled as bus no. 25 passed by Shandwick Place, the wonderful apartment we stayed in September, in bittersweet reminisce of the happy times and the painful separation we had to endure when I left, alone, to return home.