A Home for Siobhan

The day began overcast, with a light rain that fell off and on. I had a light rain coat to cover me, plus a waterproof shell that I could stretch over my camera bag.

My feet would get wet, but I wasn't bothered.

I left the hotel, on Dalkeith Road, and walked north, passing the Royal Commonwealth Pool and to where the name of the road changed to St. Leonard's Street. This name rang a bell, and it wasn't until I came up to the St. Leonard's branch of the Edinburgh Police that it came back to me: this was the cop shop that was made famous by author Ian Rankin and his Inspector Rebus series.

I continued toward the Royal Mile, where I had a quest for a colleague. This friend had an interest in the Scottish philosopher and economist, Adam Smith: a few years earlier, this friend had visited the cemetery in which Smith lies buried—Canongate Kirk—but he was unable to find this Father of Capitalism's grave site.

If I could find it and photograph it, he had asked, he would be grateful.

Canongate Kirk Cemetery

The rain fell with more earnest, but I was undeterred. I entered the grounds of this 17th-century Presbyterian church and began systematically searching the tombstones, starting from the west side of the church grounds. But it didn't take me long to notice that stepping stones along the path bore Smith's name, and all I had to do was follow them to his memorial.

With this quest at an end, I worked my way up High Street, toward the castle, stopping at John Knox House and Museum, St. Giles Cathedral, and stopping at The Hub, a former church turned into a small group of indoor shops and a café, where I had a welcoming hot soup and pint, getting away from the drab outdoors.

The old Tollbooth Tavern was a 16th-century tollbooth.

St. Giles Cathedral

After lunch, the rain seemed to intensify further, so I took refuge in Camera Obscura, where I marvelled at myriad optical illusions and light effects, and climbed to its top, which offers a commanding view of Edinburgh. This was an awesome detour, as I had wanted to visit this place the last time I was in Edinburgh, in 1988, but had never found the opportunity; it was also a great place to escape the rain, which had subsided by the time I was finished exploring all that Camera Obscura had to offer.

Selfie through a heat sensor.

It was now time to get on with my next quest: to find and photograph 44 Scotland Street, in New Town. My mother had been a great fan of the series of novels by Alexander McCall Smith, which went by this Edinburgh address.

Using Google Maps, I was able to find Scotland Street, which was a short, wide road to the north of Drummond Place Park. Cars had pull-in parking in front of five-storey Georgian homes, and I noticed several signs advertising space to let—seeing these signs made me think, at first look, to read Toilet.

For fans of this book series, who have never been to Edinburgh, I'm going to spoil something for you: there is no number 44 Scotland Street. The even-numbered addresses stop at 24. And while I couldn't photograph the house for my mother, I did capture images of the street.

Scotland Street. No number 44.

My second quest completed, I was free to accomplish my own quest: to locate and photograph the house that I had found for Roland Axam's sister, Siobhan.

As I was putting the final touches on my novel, Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary, and was looking ahead to the sequel, Gyeosunim, I knew that I would devote some pages to Siobhan's abode. When I settled on New Town—perhaps inspired by a character of the same name in Ian Rankin's books—I started looking at Google Earth and Google Maps. I focused on the blocks of houses that were north of Queen Street Gardens, and settled on a group of houses on Northumberland Street.

But Google only offers so much of a view of the neighbourhood, even in the street-view mode. I needed to wander the street to actually connect with it.

From Scotland Street, the east end of Northumberland Street is only a short walk away. Walking around the park that is surrounded by Drummond Place, the road changes its name in the southwest corner, and becomes Nelson Street. And as this street bends westward, Northumberland Street begins. On this damp, cool, June 1st day, some construction on the road caused me to detour around this part of the road I sought, but did not deter me.

When I rejoined Northumberland Street, I was still a short walk from my ultimate destination. The houses along this road are divided into four quarters, each designated by the lanes that ran behind them, where the residents had their private parking lanes. I was looking for the house that was associated with the southwest lane.

The house that I associated with Siobhan Axam was at number 42 Northumberland Street. Like so many Georgian houses in New Town, there is a basement apartment that is enclosed by an iron fence and drops below the sidewalk. At this address, the apartment had a To Let sign, and the first thought that came to my mind was that I wished I was rich. And single. But only for a second.

I quickly flushed that thought and the sign from my head.

Number 42 had a peaked roof with bay windows that suggested a small guest room. Another window faced northward, on the other slope of the roof, which would have given a lovely view toward Queen Street Gardens, the southern neighbourhood of New Town, and beyond that, The old town on the hill and the castle.

It was perfect.

I wandered around the Southwest Lane, where the back of the house revealled a garden and a parking garage.

I took more photos and then wandered the neighbourhood, getting a feel of what it would be like  to live there. Continuing westward, Northumberland Street comes to an end about 100 metres down from Siobhan's home, at Howe Street. Directly across from this T-intersection, I saw The Standard pub, a furniture shop (Sofa So Good—love it!), and a salon (Sally).

Looking at Google Maps street view, today, it appears that only Sally remains.

Continuing on my stroll, I spied myriad restaurants, shops of all kinds, art galleries, banks, and, of course, the long, narrow park that is the Queen Street Gardens. Crossing southward, more shops, restaurants, and bars, and this is where I really wanted to go, now that my third quest was completed.

But first, since I still had some time on my hands, I wandered down Castle Street, across Princes Street, and over to my namesake fountain, the Ross Fountain, a 19th-century iron fountain. Though the overcast sky threatened more rain, I lucked out as I shot photos of the fountain, with Edinburgh Castle high above.

My final quest was to meet my friend, Stuart, at another must-see spot: The Oxford Bar.

If anyone has read any of the Inspector Rebus series of books by Ian Rankin, they know about The Ox. This was John Rebus' second home. Located along the narrow Young Street, just off of Castle Street, this small watering hole features a short bar and then a second modest room at the back.

I arrived before Stu, took some photos of the outside, and then went in. A few patrons were sitting at the bar (I was disappointed that Mr. Rankin wasn't one of them). I ordered a pint of the beer that was to become my ale of choice, Belhaven Best, a creamy bitter. I took my pint into the back room, which I expected would be packed, and was surprised to find it empty. I had imagined standing-room only, as was depicted in the Rebus novels, but it was barely 5:00 and I figured that the work day might not be over. Plus, the scenes in which Rebus occupied his spot, at the back of this room, happened in the late hours of the evening.

I could imagine a crowded room with John Rebus and Siobhan Clarke, the two discussing a case.

Though I was tempted to take the fabled table that Inspector John Rebus fictitiously occupied, something in my head told me that I hadn't earned the right. I took a photo, but sat closer to the frosted windows.

Stuart joined me before I was halfway through my pint. He ordered one for himself and we chatted about our day. Stu was excited about looking at some old botanical notes, plus conversing with fellow researchers and professors (my buddy is a professor at the University of Guelph). I told him about my wanderings and showed him some of the photos on my camera (my old Nikon D80).

Both of us were starving, and I mentioned a quirky-looking place that was on Rose Street, a couple of blocks away, called Dirty Dick's. Away we went.

By the time we finished dinner, the sky was beginning to clear and the city was warming, so we decided to walk to where we could get a good vantage of Edinburgh as the sun was lowering on the horizon. We followed Princes Street, east, to the stairs that led up, to Calton Hill, which arguably offers the best views of this city.

Looking to Canongate Kirk, where today's exploring began.

Before we lost daylight, we walked back down to Princes Street Gardens, around Lothian Road, through The Meadows, and down toward Dalkeith Road, where our hotel waited for us. Before then, though, we spied a pub with large windows, and we stopped in for a glass of malt. "Remember, Stu," I said, "ask for whisky, not scotch."

No Scot calls it scotch.

A view through The Meadows.

Looking back on this long day, I wish I had my Fit Gear then: the steps I took would likely remain as my all-time record.

On the next day, a Wednesday 10 years ago, Stuart had no conferences to attend, and we decided that we would head to North Berwick, together. Today, I had found a home for Siobhan: tomorrow, we would find one for Roland.

Stay tuned...