It was surprisingly easy to wake up at 4AM. A horrible time, indeed, yet necessary in order for Jamie, my mom, and I to catch our 7:30AM flight out of Dublin, and to one of my favorite cities in the world: Edinburgh, Scotland. The excitement that I felt about returning to Edinburgh gave me a burst of adrenaline when my first alarm went off, and I was the first one out of bed, shaking off any leftover sleepiness with a cold splash of water to my face before getting dressed. 

The night before had been one of preparations. We had packed all of our bags, keeping out the few items that we needed to complete our morning routines, and scheduled for a taxi to pick us up at 4:45AM. The time crunch that was presented to us helped us push through the inevitable drowsiness, and impressively, we were checked out by 4:40AM. Our taxi was there early, and we were quickly departing from the Staycity Aparthotels Tivoli that we stayed at and heading back to Dublin Airport.

The taxi ride lacked conversation, but was far from silent. Jamie leaned on my mom’s shoulder, staring blankly ahead, while my mom checked the news; I myself stared out the window that I sat next to, watching the still city fly by as I listened to the radio that spoke of Sinead O’Connor’s funeral that happened the day before.

Although the adrenaline of my awakening had worn off, I felt full of a liveliness that only comes in the darkness of early morning. The radio told a story of beauty, mourning, and an icon, a story that I had not been too privy to, but quickly became enraptured and touched by. The interviews that they played of those that had loved Sinead O’Connor’s music were as bright as the lights that flew past our little taxi, the feeling made even stronger when they began to play one of her songs.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, we were being dropped off at the Dublin airport. The cold Irish air prickled my senses as we retrieved our luggage, the quiet of the taxi giving way to the never ending flow of energy that airport terminals always have. Our lack of confidence in where exactly we were going in the airport was not aided by the crowds that mingled across all of the different airline check-ins, and after we walked the entire length of the terminal, we finally found where we were meant to be.

I snacked on a granola bar as we checked our bags, the lack of breakfast beginning to wear me down. Jamie was still half asleep, holding onto my mom’s arm while we discussed where we were supposed to go. Security was, of course, on the other side of the terminal, because when it comes to luck, traveling is never kind. Luckily, my mom had paid a small fee in order for us to have the priority security line, and in a small handful of moments, we were on the other side of security and heading to a Starbucks.

The rest of our time at the airport was spent sitting at the Starbucks, calling my boyfriend, Anderson (Jamie took it over and they discussed Pokémon Go) at this Starbucks, and then walking to our gate and waiting semi-patiently for our plane to come into the gate. Though, “coming into the gate” isn’t exactly accurate, since we had to walk across the tarmac to the plane, an experience that was entirely new to Jamie!

I planned on getting some writing done on the plane ride, but as soon as I put my earbuds in and the plane took off… I fell asleep. What can I say? There’s just something about waking up at 4AM and the soothing movement of planes that can knock a person out!

When I woke up, we were just about to land in an entirely new country – Scotland. Now, if you’re being picky, you would say that we landed in the United Kingdom; the Scottish never officially took their independence from the British, after all. However, Scotland has its own history, its own people, and if that doesn’t make it its own land, I’m not sure what would.

It felt right to be back in Edinburgh. Last summer, I visited with my mom and my grandparents, and had the time of my life. We left on August 3rd, which was unfortunate, considering that Edinburgh was just about to start the biggest arts festival in the world: the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. This year, we made it a point to return to Edinburgh during the Fringe, something that I had been looking forward to through the entirety of my senior year. 

The Fringe is a multicultural, month-long festival that showcases what performance and art can really do. There are performers from all across the globe that come to the city, effectively taking the entirety of Edinburgh over. Even if one were to stay for the entire month (which is my dream), it would be impossible to see every single show, making it beautiful and unique and so purely human that it almost hurts. We were able to see glimpses of the Fringe’s beauty as we drove through the city to our hotel. Street performers stood at every corner, circus tents were put up in the parks, every wall was plastered with posters for the infinite variety of shows.

Because of it being our first day in Edinburgh, we hadn’t bought any tickets to see any shows. However, my mom had made reservations at Bertie’s Proper Fish & Chips, a restaurant that we had eaten at the year before and had floored us with its quality. The hotel that we booked was in the perfect location for ten minute walks to each place that we would have to go, and Bertie’s was one of these. The walk took us through the street that served as the direct inspiration for the iconic Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter books, a fact that multiple stores in the area capitalized on. 

Why, exactly, did this street – named Victoria Street – inspire Diagon Alley? It’s easy to see, with the right knowledge of what Diagon Alley is and a photo of this iconic street. Diagon Alley, in the Harry Potter series, is a central shopping area for those that live in the wizarding world. It’s where students of the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry get their supplies, and is a constant setting within the books. The alley’s name is a play on the word diagonally, which is reflected in how the alley is built. It is thin with an endless selection of shops and restaurants, with an open sky despite its towering buildings. Victoria Street is practically this exact place, sadly without the magical aspects.

Walking through Victoria Street is a transportation to a world that lives in our imaginations. Even without the influence of the Harry Potter series, Victoria Street carries a magic within its cobblestone and layered buildings. The variety of shops, restaurants, and people that you can find in that one street is astounding, and it was made even more magical by the influence of the Fringe. You could hear music and laughter coming from the many surrounding venues, flyers for shows are being handed out from every corner; there is a community that you step into just by standing there and listening to the world around you. 

We slowly made our way to Bertie’s, which is at the top of the hill that Victoria Street was built upon. Although it had been a year since I had been there last, the ambiance of the restaurant had stuck with me. The aesthetics of the restaurant resembled that of a vintage beach, the walls painted a light ocean teal with cream accents. The signs that were littered about were dark and stormy blue with red and bronze writing, the font reminiscent of vintage postcards. This aesthetic carried over to their menus, however with a cream backing color. The lighting is a nice mixture of natural lighting from big windows and warm, honey colored light bulbs, giving it a cozy and natural feeling. The colors all compliment the quality of their food – the golden crisp on their divine fish and chips, the savory crunch of their fresh chips. (Which, yes, I almost wrote as fries… I’ll issue a formal apology soon.)

I devoured my fish and chips (and a pint of fresh cider) with the hunger of someone who hadn’t had a proper lunch, Jamie almost succeeding in following in my footsteps but falling just a bit short. Not that I minded – I took his remaining fish and devoured that, too. Bertie’s really does know how to make proper fish and chips, and I can say, confidently, that I have yet to have fish and chips better than those. It’s too bad that they’re in Scotland and, normally, I am in Los Angeles. It’s a bit of an inconvenience to my “fish and chips spot,” as my brother would call a craving.

After dinner, the sun was yet to set, and we wandered back to our hotel with full bellies and excitement for the days ahead. The Fringe was alive all around us, through the day and through the night. However, due to our horribly early morning, the Fringe would have to wait – our beds were calling each of our names, and soon, we fell into them.