Edinburgh hidden gems, Edinburgh historic sites, Edinburgh literary spots, Edinburgh Georgian architecture, Edinburgh volcanic landmarks,Edinburgh Old Town closes, Edinburgh Castle Crown Room, Mary King's Close history, Calton Hill panoramic views, Elephant House Harry Potter, Greyfriars Kirkyard Riddell grave, New Town address hierarchy, Arthur's Seat sunset views, Edinburgh ghost tour spots, Scottish pub whiskey experience
Dawn Departure: Starting from the Royal Mile
The first rule of exploring Edinburgh like a local? Wake up before the tour buses. At 6:30 a.m., the Royal Mile is still wrapped in a soft, silvery mist that clings to the gables of medieval tenements and the spires of St Giles’ Cathedral. The only sounds are the distant clink of a pub’s early-morning glassware, the scuffle of a fox darting through a narrow close, and the occasional squawk of a seagull—Edinburgh’s unofficial mascot, always on the hunt for a discarded haggis bite. This is the city’s magic hour, when the crowds are still asleep and the Royal Mile reveals its true self: not just a tourist thoroughfare, but a living, breathing artery that has pulsed with Scottish history for over 700 years.
Beneath your feet lies one of Edinburgh’s most underappreciated secrets: the setts. These cobblestones, rough-hewn and irregular, are not just any paving material. Quarried from local sandstone, they were laid in the 16th century to withstand the weight of horse-drawn carriages and the trample of countless feet—from royal processions to market vendors, from Jacobite rebels to Victorian tourists. Run your hand over them, and you’ll feel the grooves worn smooth by centuries of use; look closely, and you might spot faint etchings, the leftover marks of masons or the idle doodles of bored apprentices. Locals joke that the setts hold the city’s memories: step on the right one, and you might hear a ghostly bagpipe tune; step on the wrong one, and you’ll slip (a warning I learned the hard way, narrowly avoiding a tumble into a flower box).
By 7:15 a.m., the first street performer arrives: a bagpiper dressed in a deep blue tartan kilt, his face half-hidden by a woolen bonnet. He sets up near the entrance to Edinburgh Castle, adjusts his pipes, and begins to play. The sound is haunting, echoing off the stone buildings, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. Then, disaster strikes—sort of. A gust of wind whips through the close, and his kilt flutters upward, revealing a pair of bright red socks. The piper doesn’t miss a beat; he simply glares at the wind, adjusts his sporran, and continues playing, as if nothing happened. A group of early risers chuckles, and he tips his bonnet at us, a twinkle in his eye. “The wind’s always trying to embarrass us Scots,” he says later, when he takes a break. “You learn to roll with it—just like we roll with everything else.”
The Royal Mile’s true significance lies in its role as Edinburgh’s historic power axis. Stretching from Edinburgh Castle at the top (known locally as “the Castle Rock”) to Holyrood Palace at the bottom, this mile-long street was intentionally designed to connect the seat of military power (the castle) with the seat of royal power (the palace). In medieval times, this was no mere thoroughfare—it was a stage for Scottish identity. Kings and queens processed along it during coronations; armies marched along it before heading to battle; merchants set up stalls selling everything from wool to whiskey, turning it into the economic heart of the city. Even today, the street retains this sense of grandeur, with its imposing stone buildings and narrow closes that lead to hidden courtyards and secret gardens. Keep an eye out for the small, brass plaques embedded in the setts—they mark the spots where historic events took place, from public speeches to minor rebellions.
Travel Tip: The best time to explore the Royal Mile is between 6 a.m. and 9 a.m. Not only will you avoid the crowds, but you’ll also get to experience the street as locals do—watching shopkeepers open their doors, grabbing a coffee from a small café, and listening to the city wake up. Wear sturdy shoes: the setts are slippery when wet, and the street slopes gently upward toward the castle.
Edinburgh Castle: Whispers of Centuries in Stone
As you climb the final steps toward Edinburgh Castle, the first thing that strikes you is its sheer dominance. Perched atop a volcanic crag, 120 meters above sea level, the castle looms over the city like a stone giant, its walls blackened by time and weather. From this vantage point, you can see for miles: the red-tiled roofs of the Old Town, the elegant Georgian squares of the New Town, and the Firth of Forth glinting in the distance. It’s easy to see why this spot has been a fortress for over 2,000 years—since the Iron Age, when the first settlers built a hillfort here. To stand here is to feel the weight of history pressing down on you, as if every stone has a story to tell.
One of the castle’s most famous residents is the Stone of Destiny, also known as the Stone of Scone. This simple block of red sandstone has been at the center of Scottish history for over 1,000 years, used in the coronation of Scottish kings from the 9th century onward. But its story is one of theft, politics, and national pride. In 1296, Edward I of England (known as “Edward Longshanks”) invaded Scotland and stole the stone, taking it to London, where it was placed under the Coronation Chair in Westminster Abbey. For the next 700 years, the stone remained in England, a symbol of Scottish subjugation. Then, in 1950, a group of Scottish students broke into Westminster Abbey, stole the stone, and brought it back to Scotland. The stone was eventually returned to England, but in 1996, the British government agreed to return it to Scotland permanently—on the condition that it would be sent back to London for future British coronations. Today, you can see the stone in the castle’s Crown Room, alongside the Scottish Crown Jewels. Look closely, and you’ll notice a small crack—said to have been caused when the students dropped it while trying to load it into a car.
Every day at 1 p.m., without fail, a cannon fires from the castle’s Half Moon Battery. The sound is deafening, echoing across the city, and if you’re not expecting it, it’s enough to make you jump out of your skin. But why 1 p.m.? The answer lies in 19th-century practicality—and a healthy dose of Scottish frugality. In the 1800s, ships in the Firth of Forth needed a way to set their clocks accurately. The solution? Fire a cannon every day at noon, so sailors could synchronize their timepieces. But here’s the twist: the cannon was originally fired at noon, but the castle’s gunners noticed that it took the sound about a minute to reach the ships. Instead of adjusting their clocks, they simply fired the cannon at 1 p.m., so the sound would reach the ships at noon exactly. Locals joke that this was typical Scottish ingenuity—why change your schedule when you can change the rules? Today, the cannon is still fired every day (except Sundays and public holidays), and crowds gather to watch. Arrive a few minutes early to get a good spot, and don’t forget to cover your ears.
For all its grandeur, Edinburgh Castle has a dark side—and it’s hidden in its cellars. During the 18th and 19th centuries, the castle’s vaults were used as a prison for captured soldiers, mostly from France and America during the Napoleonic Wars and the American Revolutionary War. The walls of these cellars are covered in graffiti, scratched into the stone by bored and desperate prisoners. Some are simple names and dates; others are more elaborate, depicting ships, flags, and even small drawings of home. One of the most poignant is a drawing of a French village, with a small message in French: “I will return home one day.” But the cellars hold another surprise: a hidden whiskey warehouse. During the 18th century, Scottish distillers would store their whiskey in the castle’s cellars, taking advantage of the cool, damp conditions. Legend has it that prisoners were sometimes given small sips of whiskey in exchange for doing odd jobs around the castle—though this is probably more myth than fact. Today, you can take a tour of the cellars, and if you’re lucky, you might even get a free sample of whiskey (a small consolation for the dark history).
Travel Tip: Book your Edinburgh Castle tickets online in advance. During peak season (June to August), the castle can get extremely busy, and tickets often sell out. If you want to avoid the crowds, visit first thing in the morning (when the castle opens at 9:30 a.m.) or later in the afternoon (after 3 p.m.). The Crown Room, which houses the Stone of Destiny and the Crown Jewels, is the most popular attraction, so try to visit it early to avoid long lines.
Ghostly Alleys and Tangled Histories
Leave the castle behind, and wander down one of the Royal Mile’s many closes—narrow, winding alleyways that lead off the main street, like veins branching from an artery. These closes are where Edinburgh’s darker history hides, and none is more famous (or infamous) than Mary King’s Close. Tucked away between two buildings on the Royal Mile, Mary King’s Close is a network of underground streets and tenements that were sealed off in the 17th century during the Black Death. In 1645, a plague outbreak swept through Edinburgh, and the city council decided to quarantine the residents of Mary King’s Close, bricking up the entrances and leaving them to die. The close remained sealed for over 200 years, until it was rediscovered in the 19th century during the construction of the City Chambers.
Walking through Mary King’s Close today is a surreal experience. The streets are narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and the tenements loom overhead, their windows dark and empty. The air is cool and damp, and the only sounds are your own footsteps and the guide’s voice. As you walk, you’ll hear stories of the people who lived here: a mother who tried to protect her children from the plague, a tailor who continued working even as his neighbors died, and a young girl named Annie, whose doll was found in the ruins and is now said to be haunted. Visitors often report feeling a cold hand on their arm, or hearing a child’s laughter echoing through the streets. Is it a ghost? Or just the wind whistling through the narrow passages? Either way, it’s a spine-tingling experience that brings Edinburgh’s dark past to life.
After the chills of Mary King’s Close, I needed a warm drink, so I ducked into a small café tucked away in a nearby close. The café was cozy, with wooden tables, a crackling fire, and walls lined with books about Scottish history. As I sipped my hot chocolate, an older man struck up a conversation—he introduced himself as a local historian, specializing in the Scottish Enlightenment. “You know, this close is where Adam Smith and David Hume used to meet,” he said, nodding toward the window. “They’d come here for coffee and debate philosophy until late into the night. Hume was a regular at this café—he loved the scones.” He went on to tell me that many of Edinburgh’s most famous thinkers spent their time in these small closes, away from the bustle of the Royal Mile. “The Enlightenment wasn’t just about big ideas,” he said. “It was about small spaces—cafés, taverns, living rooms—where people could talk freely and exchange ideas.” It was a fascinating insight, and it made me look at the closes in a new light—not just as dark, ghostly places, but as hubs of intellectual activity.
One of the easiest ways to tell a tourist from a local in Edinburgh is to watch how they climb the hills. Edinburgh is a city of slopes—steep, unforgiving slopes that wind their way through the Old Town. Tourists tend to huff and puff, stopping every few steps to catch their breath and take photos. Locals, on the other hand, stride up them like they’re walking on flat ground, barely breaking a sweat. I saw this firsthand as I climbed Cockburn Street, a narrow, winding street that connects the Royal Mile to the New Town. A group of tourists was clustered at the bottom, staring up at the slope with dread. “Is it always this steep?” one of them asked. A local woman walking past heard them and laughed. “This is nothing,” she said. “You should try Arthur’s Seat. Now that’s a climb.” She then gave them a tip: “Lean forward when you walk—like you’re fighting the hill. It makes it easier.” I tried her advice, and sure enough, the climb felt a little less daunting.
Calton Hill: An Unfinished Monument to Ambition
Calton Hill is often called Edinburgh’s “Athens of the North,” and it’s easy to see why. Perched on a small hill east of the Old Town, the hill is dotted with neoclassical monuments that look like they’ve been transported straight from ancient Greece. The most famous of these is the National Monument, a towering structure of columns that was intended to be a replica of the Parthenon. But there’s a catch: it’s unfinished. The monument was commissioned in 1822 to honor Scottish soldiers who died in the Napoleonic Wars. The plan was ambitious: a full-scale replica of the Parthenon, built from local sandstone, with a statue of Wellington at the top. But funding ran out in 1829, and the project was abandoned, leaving only the front facade and a few columns standing.
The story of the unfinished monument is a fascinating one, tied to Scottish pride and financial hardship. At the time, Edinburgh was undergoing a period of rapid expansion—the New Town was being built, and the city was eager to prove itself as a cultural and intellectual capital. The National Monument was meant to be a symbol of this ambition, a way to show the world that Edinburgh was equal to Athens or Rome. But the cost of the project was enormous, and public donations dried up. Some locals blamed the British government for not contributing more; others blamed the Scottish elite for being too cheap. Today, the monument is known locally as “Scotland’s Disgrace,” but it’s also a beloved landmark, a reminder of the city’s lofty ambitions and its occasional failures. From the base of the monument, you can get a stunning view of the city, with the Old Town to the west and the Firth of Forth to the east.
Next to the National Monument stands the Nelson Monument, a tall, cylindrical tower dedicated to Admiral Horatio Nelson, who died at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. But the tower’s most interesting feature is not its height or its design—it’s the “time ball” at the top. Every day at 1 p.m. (exactly when the cannon fires at Edinburgh Castle), the time ball drops, a tradition that dates back to 1852. The purpose of the time ball was simple: to help sailors in the Firth of Forth set their clocks accurately. Before the advent of radio, sailors relied on visual signals to synchronize their timepieces, which was crucial for navigation. The time ball was visible from miles away, and sailors would watch for it, setting their clocks the moment it dropped. Today, the tradition continues, and crowds gather at the base of the tower every day to watch the ball drop. It’s a small, charming tradition that connects Edinburgh’s past to its present.
Calton Hill is also home to Edinburgh’s best viewing platform —a small, unmarked spot near the top of the hill that offers a 360-degree view of the city. From here, you can see it all: the castle perched on its crag, the winding streets of the Old Town, the elegant squares of the New Town, and the Firth of Forth stretching out to the horizon. On a clear day, you can even see the Forth Bridges—the Forth Rail Bridge, a Victorian engineering masterpiece, and the Forth Road Bridge, a modern counterpart. The best time to visit this spot is at sunset, when the sky turns pink and gold, and the city’s buildings are bathed in warm light. I spent over an hour here, watching the sun set and the city lights come on, and I could have stayed longer. It’s the kind of view that makes you stop and appreciate the beauty of Edinburgh.
There’s a dark irony to Calton Hill’s neoclassical grandeur. The National Monument was being built during the Scottish Potato Famine of the 1840s, a time when hundreds of thousands of Scots were starving to death. While the city’s elite were raising money for a monument to war heroes, ordinary Scots were struggling to put food on the table. It’s a reminder that Edinburgh’s history is not just one of grandeur and enlightenment, but also of inequality and hardship. As I stood on the hill, looking out at the city, I thought about this contrast—the beautiful monuments and the hidden suffering, the lofty ambitions and the harsh reality. It’s this duality that makes Edinburgh such a fascinating city.
Travel Tip: Calton Hill is free to visit, and it’s open 24 hours a day. The best time to go is at sunrise or sunset, when the light is soft and the crowds are small. If you’re interested in history, join a free walking tour of the hill—local guides will tell you the stories behind the monuments, including the drama of the unfinished National Monument. Bring a jacket: the hill is exposed, and the wind can be strong, even on warm days.
The Elephant House and the Mist of Literature
No trip to Edinburgh is complete without a visit to the Elephant House, a café on George IV Bridge that bills itself as the “Birthplace of Harry Potter.” The story goes that J.K. Rowling wrote much of the first Harry Potter book here, sitting in a corner table with a view of Edinburgh Castle. But is this true? Well, sort of. Rowling did spend time writing in Edinburgh cafés in the 1990s—she was a single mother on benefits, and she couldn’t afford to heat her flat, so she’d go to cafés to write. The Elephant House was one of her favorites, but she also wrote in other cafés, including Nicolson’s Café and the Spoon. The Elephant House embraced its Harry Potter connection, though, and today, the café is filled with Harry Potter memorabilia: wands, posters, and even a “Platform 9 3/4” sign on the wall. The view from the back of the café is indeed stunning—you can see Edinburgh Castle towering above the Old Town, which is said to have inspired Hogwarts Castle.
But the Elephant House is more than just a Harry Potter shrine—it’s also home to one of the quirkiest collections in Edinburgh: hundreds of elephant figurines. The collection started in 1995, when the café’s owner, Karen Mabon, received a small elephant figurine as a gift. She put it on the shelf, and customers started bringing in their own elephant figurines, as a way to contribute to the café’s atmosphere. Today, the collection includes over 600 elephants, of all shapes and sizes: ceramic elephants, wooden elephants, stuffed elephants, even a small elephant made from recycled plastic. They line the shelves, the windowsills, and even the ceiling. Some are funny, some are elegant, and some are just plain weird. Mabon says that the elephants represent “strength, wisdom, and good luck,” and that they’ve become a symbol of the café’s welcoming atmosphere. It’s a charming touch that makes the Elephant House stand out from other cafés in the city.
Just a short walk from the Elephant House is Greyfriars Kirkyard, a historic cemetery that has become a popular spot for Harry Potter fans. Why? Because it’s home to the grave of Thomas Riddell, a 19th-century Edinburgh resident whose name is said to have inspired Voldemort’s real name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. The grave is easy to find—look for the stone with the name “Thomas Riddell” carved into it, surrounded by small offerings from fans: coins, candles, and even a few Harry Potter books. But Greyfriars Kirkyard is more than just a Harry Potter landmark; it’s also one of Edinburgh’s most historic cemeteries, with graves dating back to the 16th century. One of the most famous residents is Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye Terrier who is said to have guarded his owner’s grave for 14 years. There’s a statue of Bobby outside the cemetery, and his grave is inside, marked by a small stone. Walking through the cemetery is a peaceful experience, with tall trees, weathered headstones, and the sound of birds chirping. It’s a reminder that Edinburgh’s literary connections are not just about Harry Potter—they’re about centuries of storytelling.
Edinburgh has a rich literary tradition, one that stretches from the 18th century to the present day. It’s the birthplace of Robert Burns, Scotland’s national poet, whose works like “Auld Lang Syne” are known around the world. It’s also home to Sir Walter Scott, one of the most famous novelists of the 19th century, whose works like “Ivanhoe” and “Rob Roy” helped shape the image of Scotland. In more recent years, Edinburgh has produced writers like Irvine Welsh, whose novel “Trainspotting” (set in the city’s Leith district) became a cultural phenomenon. What’s interesting about Edinburgh’s literary scene is how it reflects the city’s duality—Burns’ romantic poems about Scotland’s landscape stand in contrast to Welsh’s gritty portrayal of urban poverty; Scott’s historical novels rub shoulders with Rowling’s magical tales. To walk through Edinburgh is to walk through a literary landscape, where every street, every close, every pub has inspired a writer.
Travel Tip: The Elephant House can get very busy, especially during peak season. If you want to avoid the crowds, visit between 10 a.m. and 11 a.m., or after 4 p.m. Try the hot chocolate—it’s rich and creamy, and it comes with a small elephant-shaped biscuit. If you’re a Harry Potter fan, don’t miss the “Harry Potter Trail”—a self-guided tour that takes you to all the Edinburgh locations that inspired Rowling, including Greyfriars Kirkyard, the Royal Mile, and the University of Edinburgh.
New Town Wandering: Georgian Elegance and Quirky Surprises
If the Old Town is Edinburgh’s medieval heart, the New Town is its Georgian soul. Built in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the New Town was designed to relieve overcrowding in the Old Town, and it’s a masterpiece of urban planning. Unlike the Old Town’s narrow, winding streets, the New Town’s streets are wide, straight, and symmetrical, with elegant Georgian townhouses, leafy squares, and grand public buildings. Walking through the New Town is like stepping back in time to the 1800s, when Edinburgh was a center of wealth and culture.
One of the most interesting things about the New Town is its address numbering system, which holds a hidden code of class and status. In the 18th century, the most desirable properties were those on the ground floor and the first floor (known as the “piano nobile”), which had large windows and access to the garden. The upper floors were less desirable, and the basement (known as the “kitchen level”) was where the servants lived. The address numbers reflect this hierarchy: the grandest houses have the lowest numbers, and they’re located on the most prestigious streets, like Princes Street and George Street. For example, 1 Princes Street was once the home of a wealthy merchant, while the houses at the end of the street were occupied by middle-class families. Even today, the address numbering system is a reminder of Edinburgh’s class divisions, and it’s fun to walk through the New Town and guess the social status of the original residents based on their house numbers.
One of the New Town’s most unique buildings is St Andrew’s and St George’s West Church, also known as the “Round Church.” As the name suggests, the church is circular, with a dome that rises 30 meters above the street. But the church’s most fascinating feature is its acoustic properties. Stand in the center of the church and whisper, and your voice will echo around the room, clear and loud. This is because the circular design creates a perfect acoustic chamber, reflecting sound evenly in all directions. Locals joke that the church was designed so that even the people at the back could hear the preacher—though some say it was designed to make the preacher’s voice sound more authoritative. Whatever the reason, it’s a fun experience to test the acoustics for yourself. The church is open to the public, and there are free guided tours that explain its history and architecture.
The New Town is also home to some unexpected museums and galleries, hidden away in ordinary-looking townhouses. One of my favorites is the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, which is located in two Georgian townhouses on Belford Road. The gallery houses a collection of modern and contemporary art, including works by Picasso, Warhol, and Hockney. But what makes it special is its setting— the grand townhouses provide a striking contrast to the bold, experimental art on display. Another hidden gem is the Writers’ Museum, located in a 17th-century townhouse on Lady Stair’s Close (just off the Royal Mile, but part of the New Town’s extension). The museum celebrates Scottish writers, with exhibits on Burns, Scott, and Robert Louis Stevenson. It’s a small, intimate museum, with personal items like Scott’s writing desk, Burns’ violin, and Stevenson’s travel journals. The best part? It’s free to visit.
No visit to the New Town is complete without a climb up the Scott Monument. Dedicated to Sir Walter Scott, this Gothic spire stands 61 meters tall, and it’s one of Edinburgh’s most iconic landmarks. The climb to the top is not for the faint of heart: 287 narrow, winding steps that spiral upward, with small platforms along the way where you can catch your breath and take in the views. As I climbed, I passed a few people who were struggling with the ascent—one woman was clinging to the handrail, her face pale. “Is it almost over?” she asked. I told her that we were almost at the top, and she let out a sigh of relief. When I finally reached the top, the view was worth it: a panoramic view of the New Town, the Old Town, and the Firth of Forth. I spent a few minutes there, catching my breath and taking photos, before beginning the descent. On the way down, I met a man who was terrified of heights. “I’m doing this for my daughter,” he said. “She loves Walter Scott, and she wanted me to take a photo from the top.” It was a sweet moment, and it made the climb feel even more worthwhile.
Travel Tip: The best way to explore the New Town is on foot. Take a self-guided tour of the Georgian squares, including Charlotte Square (designed by Robert Adam, one of Scotland’s most famous architects) and St Andrew Square (home to the Melville Monument). Wear comfortable shoes—while the streets are flat, you’ll be doing a lot of walking. If you’re interested in architecture, pick up a copy of the “New Town Architecture Trail” from the Edinburgh Tourist Information Center—it’s a detailed guide to the area’s most interesting buildings.
Arthur’s Seat: Sunset on a Volcano
Arthur’s Seat is not just a hill—it’s an extinct volcano, 350 million years old, and it’s the highest point in Edinburgh, standing 251 meters tall. Located in Holyrood Park, just a short walk from the Royal Mile, Arthur’s Seat is a favorite spot for locals and tourists alike, offering stunning views of the city and the surrounding countryside. But don’t be fooled by its seemingly gentle slopes—this hill is steeper than it looks, and the climb to the top is a workout.
As I began the climb, I quickly realized why locals say it’s harder than it looks. The path starts off gently enough, winding through grassy slopes and past small lochs. But as I climbed higher, the path became steeper, with loose rocks and uneven terrain. I passed a few locals who were jogging up the hill—something that seemed impossible to me at the time. “Keep going,” one of them said, giving me a thumbs-up. “The view is worth it.” I took his advice, and I kept climbing, stopping every few minutes to catch my breath and take in the views. Along the way, I saw a few sheep grazing on the slopes—they’re a common sight on Arthur’s Seat, and they seem completely oblivious to the tourists. I also saw a few hikers with dogs, and a group of teenagers having a picnic on a small plateau.
When I finally reached the top, I was rewarded with one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen. From here, you can see the entire city of Edinburgh spread out below you: the castle on its crag, the red-tiled roofs of the Old Town, the elegant squares of the New Town, and the Firth of Forth glinting in the distance. To the south, you can see the Pentland Hills, their peaks covered in heather. It’s easy to see why this spot was used as a filming location for the movie “One Day,” starring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess. In the movie, the two main characters climb Arthur’s Seat at sunset, and the scene is one of the most romantic in the film. As I stood there, watching the sun set over the city, I could see why—there’s something magical about this spot, a sense of peace and beauty that’s hard to describe.
Arthur’s Seat is more than just a scenic spot—it’s also a geological time capsule. The hill is made of basalt, a type of volcanic rock that was formed when lava cooled and solidified 350 million years ago. To sit on the top of Arthur’s Seat is to sit on a piece of Earth’s history, a reminder of the powerful geological forces that shaped Scotland. Geologists come from all over the world to study the hill, and there are several information boards along the path that explain its geological history. As I sat on a rock, looking out at the city, I thought about how small I felt compared to the hill, and how old the Earth is. It’s a humbling experience, and it makes you appreciate the beauty and complexity of the natural world.
The descent from Arthur’s Seat is just as challenging as the ascent, with loose rocks and steep slopes. But as I walked down, I found myself thinking about Edinburgh’s duality—old and new, natural and man-made, magical and real. This city is built on a volcano, after all, a fact that seems to sum up its essence: powerful, unpredictable, and full of surprises. As I reached the bottom of the hill, the sun had set, and the city lights were coming on. I felt tired but happy, with a new appreciation for Edinburgh and its natural beauty.
Travel Tip: The best time to climb Arthur’s Seat is in the late afternoon, so you can reach the top in time for sunset. Wear sturdy hiking shoes— the path is rocky and uneven, and it can be slippery when wet. Bring a bottle of water and a snack: the climb takes about 45 minutes to an hour, and you’ll need to stay hydrated. If you’re not up for the full climb, there are several smaller hills in Holyrood Park, like Calton Hill (which I visited earlier) and Salisbury Crags, that offer great views without the strenuous hike.
After Dark: Edinburgh’s Dual Personality
As night falls, Edinburgh transforms into a different city—one that’s equal parts mysterious and lively. The Old Town’s narrow closes, which seem charming during the day, take on a spooky vibe after dark, with shadows stretching across the setts and the wind whistling through the alleyways. But the city also comes alive with music, laughter, and the clink of glasses, as locals and tourists alike head to the pubs and bars that line the Royal Mile and the New Town’s streets.
One of Edinburgh’s most popular nighttime activities is a ghost tour of the Old Town’s underground streets. These streets were built in the 18th century, when the Old Town was overcrowded, and they were used as homes, shops, and workshops. But as the New Town was built, the underground streets were abandoned and eventually buried, becoming a forgotten part of Edinburgh’s history. Today, several companies offer ghost tours of these streets, taking visitors into the dark, damp tunnels to hear stories of ghosts, murders, and supernatural occurrences. I joined one of these tours, and it was a thrilling experience. Our guide, dressed in a Victorian costume, led us through the tunnels, telling us stories of a cobbler who was murdered by his wife, a prostitute who haunts the streets, and a group of children who died in a fire. The tunnels are dark and eerie, and the guide used sound effects and dramatic pauses to build tension. At one point, I felt a cold hand brush against my arm, and I jumped. The guide laughed and said, “That’s just the ghost of Mary—she likes to play tricks on tourists.” Whether you believe in ghosts or not, a ghost tour is a fun way to learn about Edinburgh’s dark history.
No trip to Edinburgh is complete without a visit to a traditional Scottish pub, and the best way to experience one is to order a whiskey like a local. The key, I learned, is to avoid the tourist traps and head to a small, family-run pub in the Old Town or the New Town. When I asked a local bartender for advice, he told me: “Don’t order a blended whiskey with ice— that’s a tourist move. Ask for a single malt, neat or with a drop of water. And don’t be afraid to ask for a recommendation—we’re happy to help.” I took his advice and ordered a single malt from the Isle of Skye, neat. It was smooth and smoky, with hints of peat and sea salt. The bartender also recommended trying a haggis bonnet—a small pastry filled with haggis, neeps, and tatties. It was delicious, and it paired perfectly with the whiskey.
As I sat in the pub, sipping my whiskey, I heard a group of locals playing traditional Scottish music—fiddles, accordions, and a bagpipe. They were having a ceilidh, a traditional Scottish social gathering that involves music, dancing, and storytelling. One of the locals noticed that I was watching, and he invited me to join in. “Come on,” he said. “It’s easy—just follow the steps.” I hesitated at first, but I decided to give it a try. The dance was called the “Gay Gordons,” and it involved spinning around and holding hands with other dancers. I made a few mistakes, but everyone was friendly and encouraging, and I had a great time. It was a wonderful way to experience Scottish culture, and it made me feel like a local, if only for a few minutes.
As the night wore on, I wandered back to my hotel, passing the lit-up windows of the Old Town’s tenements and the grand facades of the New Town’s townhouses. I thought about all the things I had seen and experienced that day: the misty dawn on the Royal Mile, the history of Edinburgh Castle, the chills of Mary King’s Close, the views from Calton Hill, the literary magic of the Elephant House, the elegance of the New Town, the climb up Arthur’s Seat, and the warmth of the Scottish pub. Edinburgh is a city that defies easy definition—it’s a city of layers, where every street, every stone, every pub has a story to tell. It’s a city that combines dark history with warm hospitality, natural beauty with man-made grandeur, and magic with reality. And that’s what makes it so special.
Travel Tip: If you’re taking a ghost tour, book in advance—they sell out quickly, especially during peak season. Choose a tour that’s led by a local guide: they’ll have the best stories and the most insider knowledge. When visiting a pub, try to go during the week—weekends can be very busy, and you’ll have a better chance of meeting locals. And remember: Scottish whiskey is strong, so take it slow—you don’t want to miss out on the rest of your night in Edinburgh.
