Festive August is over. With the beginning of September, summer winds down. Where recently the sun wasn't truly set until 10:30pm, already Edinburgh is dark by nine, and the growing shortness of the days brings winter ever closer to the city. The Fringe, Film and Book festivals all finished this past Monday, leaving the International Festival to go it alone. But now, only one performance remains.
After the sun set this evening, the night exploded with booms and bangs, crescendos and decrescendos, fireworks and pyrotechnics, flute and percussion. From all around Edinburgh - Calton Hill to the east, Inverleith Park to the north, or in the epicenter, along Princes Street and in the Gardens - people gathered, watching the brightly lit Castle.
At night the Castle is always lit, its rough, yellow-brown stone almost golden in the darkness. When arriving in Edinburgh at night, this beloved sight has always welcomed me, as I left Waverly Station and walked out onto Princes Street, late at night, the Castle shining.
I had been away much of this evening, to the north, across the Firth of Forth, in Fife. A 9:45pm train returned me to Edinburgh just after the start of the 10:30 Bank of Scotland Fireworks Concert. From the station I walked up the access road to Waverly Bridge, but the Castle lights already had been turned off, lit by the exploding air, with flares and lights below changing the color of the rock from white to red to green.
Though I had missed the beginning, from the top of a railing the access road provided a wonderful place to watch. Booms echoed off the buildings as the fireworks blossomed higher and higher.
Spectacular though they are, the fireworks are only half the experience, and for me the only drawback to my vantage was not being able to hear the concert. I had seen, heard and felt last year's sound and fire from a park where speakers had broadcast the music. Forty-five minutes of fire synchronized with music - for this year, Tchaikovsky, including selections from "Swan Lake" and "Nutcracker" - played by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, in Princes Street Gardens' Ross Theatre.
I knew I wasn't getting the entire experience, that unity of fiery color and musical dynamics, but when the last fiery light dimmed and the Castle lights came back up, it was still some time before my heart really returned to normal.
From the end of the fireworks, the crowds emptied the streets, some for the pubs and clubs, some for their homes and rooms. Even as the crowds moved down Princes Street, the city felt emptier. Friends had been telling me how, ever since the end of the Fringe, the streets - and even some of the pubs - already had emptied, slowed, the tourists and throngs filing out, just as they had flocked in. Now, as around me people felt in the air the coming of winter, the festival, the people and the city were all already entering the initial stages of hibernation.
The festivals are over. The fireworks have faded, and as the daylight dwindles more and more, the city waits for winter again, waits for the festive August waiting beyond, when once more, Edinburgh will be alive.
Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our Europe Insiders page.
