I woke this morning to the sound of church bells chiming somewhere close by. I’m in Edinburgh, Scotland — a place that I personally think is one of the most beautiful cities in the world — relaxing for a few weeks in a borrowed flat with wonderful views of the city’s iconic castle from most of the windows. My husband’s grandparents came from Edinburgh, and we’ve been spending the past couple of days visiting the places where they lived their lives.
I wonder, sometimes, if family history is as important to others as it is to me. I love visiting the various corners of the world where my ancestors — and in this case, my husband’s ancestors — lived. It makes me feel connected, and provides a sense of balance and continuity to a world that often seems to be whizzing by, largely beyond my control.
Of course, maybe that’s just my excuse to travel. But even if that’s the case, the result is still the same: a deeper connection to the planet, and a greater appreciation for the diverse life that populates it. My husband says that’s all just dreamy talk, and that the real reason I like to come here is because the Scots know how to make a great cup of tea. I think he’s probably just a little bit right — but there’s certainly no need to tell him I said so.
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