During these strange times, we Local Guides have to find other ways to travel. Let these stories take you to the places we can no longer visit during quarantine-times. This stop: Edinburgh, Scotland
- The hill-filled capital of Scotland, Edinburgh consists of its medieval Old Town filled with small cobble stone streets and Georgian New Town where gardens and neoclassical buildings rule. The buzzing and beating connection between old and new would be the broad Princes Street, and Edinburgh Castle which can be seen from almost anywhere in the city. And just as everywhere in the UK, Edinburg has a reputation of the ever falling rain: the city gets 709 millimeter of sky-water a year.
The merciless rain. An Edinburgh story.
(by Linda Leestemaker)
It’s cold, wet, my clothes are soaked, and I am practically numb. Spring? Whatever. I haven’t seen the sun in weeks and the cold is almost paralyzing. Motionless I stare into the space in frond of me, the sound of splashing water – sloshed around by the passing cars and the shoes walking by – is only blocked out from time to time by the sound of my rumbling stomach. I wipe my nose on my sleeve, a gesture I have to repeat every couple of minutes. The cold doesn’t help against the fatigue.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I hear something land on the bottom of my cup. The carton is soggy due to the rain, the same goes for the sign in my hands. ’16 pounds for a night in a hostel, please help’, it says, but I doubt that you could still read it.
“Spare some change?” With a jolt, my head comes back up as soon as the voice reaches my ears. Not even two meters away from me, there is another kid. In front of him, there is a cup. “Spare some change?” he asks the passersby, who ignore him and keep walking. We are too close to each other, limit the chance of anyone opening their wallet for us. I feel the rage boiling up, manage to clamber up to my feet even though my legs are stiff, and walk towards the boy. “Hey!” He acts like he doesn’t hear me. Annoyed beyond believe, I shove him. “Hey! Piss off buddy!”
Only now does he look up. “Spare some change?” Is this dude stupid or something?! Do I look like I can spare some change? “Get lost, I said.” I give him another push, he falls over, his only defense is raising his arms. The gesture only makes me angrier, but before I can do anything, I notice a movement in the corner of my eyes. Around us, people have come to a standstill. I see phones being raised, aimed towards us, fingers pointed to me, mumbling that fills the air. I stiffen up, suddenly aware of the attention we’re getting, attention I don’t want. “Asshole,” I hiss, before grabbing my cup off the ground and forcing my way through the crowd. There goes my spot, it was a good spot and it was hard to get. And I’m still six pounds short of a bed for the night.
My socks are making those wet, sopping sounds when I walk. My coat sticks to my arms, cold and wet thanks to the rain and wind. Cars speed by, water sloshes up from puddles, and my pants shows spots of mud. It wouldn’t be too bad to be able to wash my clothes tonight.
With a sigh I look through the window of a coffeeshop. Guests are enjoying their steaming cups of tea and hot cappuccino’s, are having lunch with a big slice of apple pie or scrambled eggs. Longingly, I look at them, with my own eyes staring back at me in the reflection of the window. Two yearning eyes, in a skinny and pale face. Young eyes in an old face, the months on the street have given me years I didn’t earn. The same goes for my clothes.
“Hey! You!” The voice suddenly appears next to me, it startles me. When I turn around, I look straight in the angry face of a teenager whose name is Derek, according to his name tag, and who seems to be the manager. Seriously? This little prick is the manager? “Piss off mate. You’re upsetting my customers.” With clear disgust he looks at me, as if I’m some stinking heap of trash. Okay, I probably smell like that but that doesn’t mean that I deserve to be treated this way.
“Excuse me?” I ask him, partly surprised and partly insulted. “This is public property, mate. And I haven’t done shit to upset your precious customers.” The little snot almost explodes on the spot and shoves me after which he immediately wipes his hands on his pants, as if I’m contagious. “Fuck off dude!” he yells at me. Quickly, obviously afraid of me, he hops back into the store. Furious I stare at him through the glass doors, but I decided to keep my back straight and walk off. This isn’t a good spot, not even to catch a breath or hide in somewhere from the rain. That’s been made clear to me.
As the night falls, I am still three pounds short for a hostel. I don’t know if they’ll give me some mercy, I don’t want to beg them. With some bread, beer, and a couple of bananas I make myself comfortable in the doorway of a small church. The meager money I collected during the day has been cut in half, but at least I have something to eat. With a feeling of satisfaction, I open the first beer, which I down so quickly I can hardly taste it. Consolation in a can, is what I heard someone call it at some point. It’s the best way to describe it at this point in my life. The intoxication makes me drowsy, makes sure I feel the cold less. My wet clothes stop bothering me. With my eyes closed I lean my head against the bricks behind me. A smile forms around the corners of my mouth as I feel the alcohol take effect. I sit like this for quite a while, the world outside of my stone cocoon a blur behind a grey curtain of rain while my mind takes me to a warmer and sunnier place. As long as I keep my eyes closed, I don’t have to face the harsh reality. The reality in which I’m homeless, the reality in which I have to beg for money, the reality in which others treat me like dirt. It is the truth, my truth, but I can choose to ignore it for just a little bit. Tonight, I ignore it. And tomorrow? I’ll cross that bridge once I’m there. When I finally open my eyes, I see the lanterns shimmering in the puddles in the street like hundreds of stars, and a church tower bathing in light. When I finally open my eyes, I’m in a world that is upside down and pleasant.
With a heavy sigh, John had the black bag closed and saw it getting carried away. A little away his colleague was writing down the pastor’s testimony. The poor father who had found the lifeless body that morning. The empty beer cans told the story: the beginning of spring was the moment the night shelters closed down and due to the alcohol, the young man hadn’t felt that he was slipping into hypothermia. “Always sad when they’re this young,” the police officer heard the paramedic say. John nodded, not entirely present, while he got his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the number without thinking.
“Hey honey, it’s me. Yeah, I’m fine. Is Jimmy still coming for dinner tonight?” The rain still hadn’t stopped, he could hear the drops falling on his cap.