Edinburgh,One Bookstoreat a Time.

When I think of Edinburgh, it isn’t the towering silhouette of Edinburgh Castle that comes to mind first. It isn’t the lush green of Princes Street Gardens, or even the sound of bagpipes drifting down the Royal Mile.

I think of bookstores.

So many bookstores.

I’ve never been anywhere with quite so many independent bookshops, each seemingly filled with its own treasures: beautiful limited editions, first editions tucked onto shelves, books I hadn’t seen anywhere else, and an astonishing selection of greeting cards and postcards illustrated by artists from across the UK.

I spent hours in them.

I wandered from shelf to shelf, but just as often, I found myself standing in front of racks of stationary, slowly turning over one card after another. I bought birthday cards, postcards, illustrated cards I have absolutely no occasion for but couldn’t bear to leave behind. I probably have enough birthday cards now to last me several years.

As a self-proclaimed stationary addict, Edinburgh was speaking my love language.

Perhaps that is also why the city suited the way I travel.

I travel with carry-on luggage only, which means I have learned to be selective about souvenirs. There is no room for bulky objects or things bought simply because they say the name of the place I visited. Instead, I gravitate toward things that are small, flat, and personal: art prints, greeting cards, postcards, and little pieces of work made by local artists.

I’ve been collecting art this way for years, finding pieces at flea markets, roadside stands, galleries, and independent shops wherever I travel. I bring them home and have them professionally framed, transforming a relatively inexpensive piece of paper into something that feels entirely different once it is hanging on the wall.

But what I love most is what happens afterward.

I can look at a print years later and remember exactly where I found it. I remember the shop. The street. What I had been doing that day. Sometimes I can even remember what the weather felt like when I walked inside.

The art becomes less of a souvenir and more of a marker of a particular moment in my life.

Edinburgh gave me plenty of those moments.

I arrived with a long list of places to see and a carefully considered itinerary. And then, somewhere along the way, I decided to throw much of it to the wind.

Instead, I went on my own bookstore crawl through Edinburgh.

No route. No checklist. No attempt to make it efficient.

I simply wandered from one bookshop to another, stopping whenever somewhere looked interesting and staying for as long as I wanted.