Finding My Footing in Edinburgh

What this post really should be titled is “getting a great thigh workout in Edinburgh.” But, I digress.

I haven’t been on this journey for all that long, but to stay it’s been hard is an understatement. I’ve never traveled alone extensively and so planning a several-month solo trip was ambitious, to put it lightly.

The first day I arrived, I was so exhausted that I literally just went to my hotel in Glasgow and crashed. I didn’t eat anything at all that day, didn’t walk anywhere, didn’t do anything. I crawled into bed, turned on some crappy TV, and zonked out. I woke up a few times and felt a bit panicky, all alone in a foreign city in a foreign country, wondering if I could do this day in and day out for months. (To be honest, I still can’t answer that.)

My second day I had plans to meet up with some friends of one of my good friends. She’d set the whole thing up before I even left the States. I’d take a train to Inverkip, walk to their home, have a lovely lunch, and hear a few tips and ideas about Scotland. But when I woke up, I felt paralyzed. I showered early and then just sat. I cried a little. And then had to internally yell at myself, “Megan, you’re in EUROPE. You’re exactly where you want to be. Snap out of it.” It didn’t work; I still sat there trying to apply eyeliner while my eyes welled with tears. I texted a friend, “I’m not feeling great today. It’s ridiculous. Now that I’m in Europe and doing what I thought I wanted to do, I’m just kind of sad and lonely. I don’t know what my problem is.” His response was perfect, and exactly what I needed, “Usually the first day of travel is like that. And we get disappointed as we get what we want. But it’s just the first day. This feeling will go away.”

So, I went to Inverkip and had the day I’d imagined exactly. And I started to feel better. But not completely.

When I came to Edinburgh the following day, I still felt sort of lost and lonely, but at least it was a city with which I was familiar (don’t let that fool you into thinking I didn’t get lost leaving the train station). I dropped my things at the hostel and hit the Royal Mile–nothing makes you feel quite at home like a bunch of tourists, right? But it was what I needed. I wandered about, had some lunch at a sidewalk cafe, caught a street performance, took a ton of photos, and when I returned to my room, I met two Canadian guys and spent the evening with them–whisky tasting down the street from the hostel, bar trivia (came in second place!), and a few rounds of pool.

As I write this, I’m on day 5. I still feel sad and lonely at times, but talking to people and eating alone are becoming easier. Today I sat in Princes Street Gardens for about an hour just people watching and listening to bagpipes. It was exactly what the doctor ordered, and when I made my way back to my hostel, I felt refreshed and eager to see what else this magnificent country has to offer.

My thighs might burn, my face may be extra freckly from the sun, and my clothes may already smell, but I’m finding my way to happiness. When I left Princes Street Gardens to head to Diagon Alley (okay, okay–Victoria Street), I noticed a little ladybug had found her way onto my shoulder. I got so excited, as I know they’re a symbol of good luck. A friend of mine told me that ladybugs are also “about metamorphosis, growth and manifestation of ideas and thoughts. It is a time to succeed and start something new.”

And with that, I think I’ll be just fine.