Scotland: II (Dunbar's Close Garden & Other Happy Mistakes)

close - noun \ˈklōs, U.S. also ˈklōz\:
a narrow passage leading from a street to a court and the houses within or to the common stairway of tenements

As Kat, Caleb, Kim and I were walking and enjoying the evening scenery of the city, we happened upon an adorable garden hidden away in Dunbar's Close. This gorgeous little spot was the first place where I finally came to the realization that I wasn't dreaming anymore, and this trip was finally reality. I think it was the silence within the hustle and bustle of the city streets; just a few steps into the close and you were transported into a whole new world. There was so little noise, so little movement; absolute serenity. Only the gentle breeze, and Kat's occasional giddy laughter or gasp at the fact that she now discovered a place she could pick and press flowers without running the risk of being arrested filled the atmosphere. I so desperately wish that there were secret gardens like this back home. 

For some reason I giggle every time I read "Mushroom Trust"

For some reason I giggle every time I read "Mushroom Trust"

I still can't tell if I love or hate the photos of these pretty babies, but they were just too vibrant and beautiful not to post 

I still can't tell if I love or hate the photos of these pretty babies, but they were just too vibrant and beautiful not to post 

O'Keeffe?

O'Keeffe?

That side eye  (Kat)

That side eye

(Kat)

I'm not even sorry that I made her pose for me so many times throughout this trip  (Kat)

I'm not even sorry that I made her pose for me so many times throughout this trip

(Kat)

Dunbar's Close Garden wasn't my only fortuitous discovery, however. Caleb and I ventured off to find a vape shop for his "refueling needs," and we misplaced trust in our sense of direction for our return trip to the hostel. By the time we gave in and agreed to use our cellular data for good ole, trusty Google Maps, we were forty-seven minutes (walking distance) away from Edinburgh Central Youth Hostel. Somehow with my knees aching and the coffee from earlier that morning begging to leave my body, I was still easily persuaded to stop with Caleb and watch an amazing street performer swallow a sword or two, juggle knives and fire, make some crude jokes that the younger portion of the crowd would certainly fail to fully grasp, and end with a bed of nails and a grown man atop his body. Thankfully on our route back, Google Maps led us by the cutest Starbucks I've ever seen. Feel free to judge me for not stopping to pee at a local café instead of Starbucks; my bladder wasn't in the mood to differentiate. I'm glad I didn't second-guess myself on account of trying to avoid being "basic," because the view from the top story of Starbucks on The Royal Mile was entirely worth it. I can't recall having ever been happy about getting lost in an unknown city before this evening. I'm so glad we didn't turn our data on for those first forty-seven minutes.

*insert cringe*

*insert cringe*

The gorgeous view from the top story of the Starbucks

The gorgeous view from the top story of the Starbucks