Sunshine on Leith

I popped in my AirPods and stepped out from my hotel. As I blinked in the sun, I opened my Spotify and found the album I wanted to listen to and hit play as I set out for my walk. A very Scottish man crooned, “When I wake up, well, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you…”

And so I began my walk from the center of Edinburgh to Leith. It was a glorious morning, and the sun shone brightly on a crisp April day. I had spent hours in my teenage room listening to this album, the cassette wearing down from overuse. I loved the brash, political lyrics, the thick, almost indecipherable Scottish accents, and the catchy melodies that were at once uplifting and defiant, yet soulful and melancholy. To a brooding teenager, it was the perfect playlist.

When I realized I was going to be in Edinburgh for a few nights, I knew I had to make my way to Leith, and I knew that the Proclaimers’ Sunshine on Leith album would provide the soundtrack. My brisk walk matched the brisk lyrics, and I marched in step with the beat. And so I walked down the broad boulevard, headed for the sea and what I came to know as the Firth of Forth, marching to the beat of my chosen soundtrack:

I'm on my way, from misery to happiness today...

Along the way, I saw the history of Scotland, medieval and modern, unfold before me as the lyrics of “Cap in Hand” rang in my ears:

No, I can't understand why we let someone else rule our land, 

Cap in hand. 

We fight, when they ask us

We boast, then we cower

We beg for a piece of

What's already ours

This land had always fiercely longed for independence, and it seemed almost a little perverse that the Royal Yacht Britannia was anchored at its port – a modern reminder that Scotland continued to be very much part of the United Kingdom and the Crown.  I also saw signs of a new Scotland. Peppered among the typical shops with yarn, woollies, and such, were a Chinese supermarket, a Pakistani restaurant, and a Nigerian cafe. As I got closer to the water, the streets became narrower, and some were cobbled with no sidewalks. I drew close to the water and walked along it to the port, listening to “Sunshine on Leith” a beautiful ballad proclaiming their shared love for both their land and the nameless object of their affection.

While I'm worth my room on this Earth

I will be with you

While the Chief puts sunshine on Leith

I'll thank Him for His work

And your birth, and my birth

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Lunch was at Fisher’s, a pub-like seafood spot near the water. I sat at the bar and enjoyed a crisp, bracingly cold white wine and the catch of the day. I chatted with the bartender, a young bloke who grew up in Glasgow but came to Edinburgh a few years ago to distance himself from the hectic pace of the city. As a native New Yorker who moved to San Francisco more than 10 years ago, I understood this.

After lunch, I decided to follow the path along the Water of Leith back into town. The path and the Water meandered through Edinburgh and looked charming and inviting. I popped my AirPods back in and hit play. The slow, lilting lyrics from the best drinking anthem ever recorded played out:

It’s Saturday night
I’m feeling on song
I think I’m alright
I know I’m all wrong
The drink that I had
Three hours ago
Has been joined by 14 others in a steady flow

But as I listened to the languid but jaunty tune while walking down the winding path along the Water of Leith, which led me past the Royal Botanic Gardens and quaint Dean Village, I knew I was alright, and there was nothing at all wrong.