Emma and I were separated from everyone else when we had better artistic taste than them. We left the art gallery early, intending "to do Turner right" (he's my favorite and the best British painter--thanks Tobes for introducing me) in London, but then no one else came out the same door or something. After lunching on a nearby bench overlooking the valley in the middle of Edinburgh, she was kind enough to accompany and guide me to the Elephant House, where everyone else had already gone, without me hearing about it, to pilgrimage to JK Rowling's original room of inspiration for Harry Potter. Here, he was born. And believe me, it was more magical than Shakespeare's birthplace, which we saw later. Not to hate on old Bill, to be fair, I've just read a lot of him lately; I just missed Harry.
Emma thought she was too cool to cast "Avada Kadavra" at the helpful photographer, but I didn't; either that or she just forgot her wand. She probably didn't know it was a muggle.
The entrance to the cafe is just off an Edinburgh street, but because it's on a hill, out the back window you look down on the view in the back. If you've ever wondered where Harry Potter was born, you'll look no further. The pics are a little weak; sorry. You step into the cafe; there is a narrow room with a bar on the right. Follow the hall to the back, where it opens up into a room with about 6 tables, and 3-4 big windows in the back. Light streams through them into the lively diners' area. Out the back window, Edinburgh Castle looks more than just a little bit mystical, and the graveyard just beneath you seems beautiful, in some weird way, for some strange reason. It is just a gripping sight; it's beautiful. You're just amazed at such a collision of wonders all out of one cozy cafe's window's view. It was like it was meant to be. Welcome to the world, Harry. He must have been bubbling about in her mind every time she saw the sight. Every time she took a dish to that window table, she must have been thinking up the secret passageways, the youthful adventures, the poignancy of dear ones' deaths, and the overriding beauty of courage and heroism, and purity of heart. It was that view which was so cool to me: even cooler than the Scott monument.
Emma thought she was too cool to cast "Avada Kadavra" at the helpful photographer, but I didn't; either that or she just forgot her wand. She probably didn't know it was a muggle.
The entrance to the cafe is just off an Edinburgh street, but because it's on a hill, out the back window you look down on the view in the back. If you've ever wondered where Harry Potter was born, you'll look no further. The pics are a little weak; sorry. You step into the cafe; there is a narrow room with a bar on the right. Follow the hall to the back, where it opens up into a room with about 6 tables, and 3-4 big windows in the back. Light streams through them into the lively diners' area. Out the back window, Edinburgh Castle looks more than just a little bit mystical, and the graveyard just beneath you seems beautiful, in some weird way, for some strange reason. It is just a gripping sight; it's beautiful. You're just amazed at such a collision of wonders all out of one cozy cafe's window's view. It was like it was meant to be. Welcome to the world, Harry. He must have been bubbling about in her mind every time she saw the sight. Every time she took a dish to that window table, she must have been thinking up the secret passageways, the youthful adventures, the poignancy of dear ones' deaths, and the overriding beauty of courage and heroism, and purity of heart. It was that view which was so cool to me: even cooler than the Scott monument.
who needs a new BMW when you've got the magic of harry potter in your heart, right? haha..bentley, you're a funny guy.
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