Discovering Harry Potter in Edinburgh

We got off the National Express coach (bus) at Edinburgh’s St Andrew’s Square and walked around for half an hour before finding it — the Princes Street Backpackers hostel. As we huffed and puffed our way up the spiralling staircase to the reception on the fourth floor, graffiti art on the walls informed us that carrying heavy luggage while climbing floors was “good practice for backpackers”.

On the fourth floor hung a Stairway To Heaven poster. And aptly then, I was welcomed by a sight that seemed like a reward for all the hard work that went into the climb: sitting at the welcome desk was the most gorgeous receptionist in the world. She looked up when we entered the lobby, twirling her hair, chewing gum in a nonchalant manner. Her name was Cara.

“Welcome to Princes Street Backpackers,” she greeted us. I took a break from staring at her to shake her extended hand. I finally came back to earth when I noticed two hefty guys eyeing me coldly. They looked stoned. More importantly, they looked like they were used to Cara having that effect on men. And their bulging biceps promised immense pain for anyone who tried to ‘get fresh’ with her.

A view from Calton Hill
After being led to our rooms — and our respective bunk beds — we had to decide our plans for our 24 hours in the city. It was my 13th day in the UK. I had started my trip in London, and after having travelled to Manchester, Liverpool, Newcastle, Durham and Glasgow, I was now in the northernmost city on the itinerary.

It was 5pm and the July summer light meant we still had a good four hours for sightseeing. Needless to say, I made straight for Cara’s desk, seeking her suggestions.

Ten minutes later, we were on North Bridge. We realised soon enough that getting to any part of Edinburgh probably meant having to cross the North Bridge at least once. Our destination was Calton Hill — the highest point in the city — which, Cara had told me, offered a breathtaking view of the whole of Edinburgh.

My travelling partner had realised by now that if “Cara said so”, we were going to do it. We trudged along for a good 20 minutes before reaching the hill. A few minutes later, we realised that Cara was right, indeed.

Standing atop Calton Hill was pure bliss. On one side, you could see the queen’s castle at a distance; on the other lay the ocean. Right between the two, Edinburgh lay majestically before our eyes — the high-rises, packed streets, clock tower and, as the evening progressed, the brilliant city lights.

On our way back from Calton Hill, we met John, who wouldn’t say his second name because he was a “French hacker on the run from cops”. He was delighted to know we were Indians and gave us the lowdown on a Hindi film shoot going on in Edinburgh at the time.

One-pound whiskies
Having feasted on what Calton Hill had to offer, and clicked pictures to my heart’s content — a habit that irritated my friend — we hit the bars. Friday night in Edinburgh is sick (which means ‘cool’, as someone in the UK told me, and not ‘sick’ the way we know it).

It means doing the rounds of all the pubs, most of them on Niddry Street, one after another. If I remember correctly — given the copious amounts of alcohol in my blood at the time, that’s a big ‘if’ — we visited six pubs and two nightclubs, one of which had five levels, each floor playing a different genre of music.

After eight hours of ‘one-pound whiskies’, we returned to our bunk beds. The next day, slightly hung over, we went on a guided tour of the city. James, the tour guide, was a struggling theatre actor who told us stories about Edinburgh to earn an extra buck.

While taking us around the city, he suddenly stopped at a particular spot. “Behind this building was the café where JK Rowling wrote the famous Harry Potter books,” said James, even as a collective sigh went up from the group.

James then pointed to two buildings on either side of us. “On one end is a school, on the other stands a castle. I reckon Rowling stood here gazing at the two and thought to herself, ‘Hmm, if only I combined the two’.”

Of course, it was such an obvious idea, we all agreed. Rowling clearly found the inspiration for Hogwarts and the world of wizardry from the city itself. Anyone who has come across the grave of Tom Riddle in one of Edinburgh’s cemeteries will know what I’m talking about.

The last place we visited was Harry’s, where we waited in queue to sample the Deep Fried Mars Bar. No, you read it right. The Deep Fried Mars Bar is among the peculiar specialties of Edinburgh, and yes, a bar of Mars chocolate is one of the ingredients.

We returned to the hostel to fetch our backpacks and set off for London. Cara was nowhere in sight this time. In her place sat a man whom I obviously won’t spend time talking about. I hoped to see her one last time before I left. But that was not to be.

Instead, I left Edinburgh with memories of a lovely city with many delightful sights, all of which I managed to capture on camera. All except Cara.