Travel Pathology

Outside, wisps of fog drift by, gently brushing over the roofs. Below, the streets are darkened by the day-long onslaught of raindrops breaking through the misty fog to meet the earth. Cars pass occasionally, disrupting the otherwise quiet neighborhood with sounds resembling tearing paper as they tred through rain puddles.

“It’s going to be a rainy day today,” I informed Troy as I sipped my coffee by the kitchen window. “What kind of soup do you want?” A rainy day is the type of day where candles are constantly kept lit, books are hard to put down, great hair is guaranteed, warm drinks are a necessity, chess games are enjoyable, and soup is a must-have.

“Red lentil? Tomato bisque? Green chilli?- Although, I don’t think I could cook green chili here, I haven’t been able to find enchilada sauce. I am a master of Zuppa Toscana..” I run through the options as the steam from our coffees catches the light of the candle. We filled the morning with reading and discussing the news. Eventually, Troy mentioned that he needed to run some errands. I smiled at the opportunity to take a walk in the rain.

Every couple knows of one important, designated role when strolling through rainy cities: the umbrella holder. The task to hold the umbrella equidistant from the center, sheltering both parties equally. To not allow distractions that could leave your partner unattended as you mindlessly pull their shelter with you in your unaware wandering. To avoid dropping the umbrella too low and bumping their heads. A task made easy if you lock arms- just a little word of advice.

Our first stop-wine. Upon entering “drinkmonger,” Troy silently led the way towards the back of the shop. I followed, my eyes scanning the array of fancy labels: Chablis, Petite-Chablis, Saint Veràn… As we reached the back, the aroma of soup caught my attention, diverting my focus from the labels to a gentleman enjoying his lunch while focused on his computer screen. Did I just walk into someone’s office? The man seemed unfazed as he looked up and greeted us with familiarity, shaking Troy’s outstretched hand. “Rom, this is my girlfriend, Kaylin,” Troy introduced me. Of course Troy would know the shopkeeper of our neighborhood wine store by name. Rom then set aside his soup to attend to all our wine needs, eagerly presenting his Burgundy collection with a charming French accent. He graciously invited us to a spirit tasting event scheduled for next week, and we expressed our gratitude as we exited the shop.

We wove down the streets, passing by flower shops, hair parlors, boutiques, cafe’s and restaurants. “I’m so happy.” I said out-loud to Troy underneath the umbrella. He responded with a squeeze of my arm, then guided us to where we get our coffee beans.

On the way back home we popped into the corner store across the street from our apartment to grab a few more ingredients for soup. “Where is the cheddar cheese?” I asked Troy, standing in front of the dairy display. He pointed to the white blocks of cheese at eye level. “No cheddar cheese.” I countered right when my brain processed the cheese label c-h-e-d-d-a-r. Cheddar. Reading my mind, Troy comments “I haven’t seen the yellow blocks of cheese sold here yet, girl.”

Back in the flat, Troy threw his bread loaf in the oven and I began preparing the chili while listening to the “La la land” soundtrack. We enjoyed our lunch over a game of chess where I lost within nine moves. Shocker. Following his triumph, Troy prepared to leave for work, leaving me with a rainy afternoon to myself.

I decided to take a bath, relishing the opportunity to immerse myself in delightful heat while reading my book. Just as the tub was filled and I was about to begin, my flatmate quietly and unexpectedly emerged from their room.

Since we all share one bathroom, I prefer not to take a full-on bath when my other flatmates are around. I like to soak until my fingers become raisins, which is a long time if you are my flatmate and may need to use the toilet.

For this reason I checked if Sorin’s keychain was on its typical hook earlier this afternoon, which it wasn’t. I assumed I was entirely alone. It doesn’t help that my flatmate is quieter than a librarian mouse.

“Are you about to take a bath?” Sorin keenly detected. I admitted my plans and I acted as if nothing had changed about my afternoon; but it will be a shorter bath today. It’s typically not appreciated to lock others out of the only bathroom for an hour or more.

Hopping out of the bath warmed to my bones and smelling like roses, I disappeared into the study to work on my assignments, which then turned into writing, which then evolved into piano playing, and then I found myself neatly tucked into the covers of my bed, reading All the light we Cannot See by Anthony Doerr by candlelight. The city is now being tucked in by an even thicker blanket of fog, deafening the typical noise from the streets below as well as darkening them.

I can’t imagine ever getting tired of this weather. Of rainy days just like this filled with books and candles and sustained by bread and soup. Will one year be enough time here, in Edinburgh? Perhaps I should pursue my PHD here. I’ll think on it.