My Own Secret Sanctuary

Here I was again. In the little Indian bistro. On a busy main road in the city of Edinburgh. In a loud, hectic part of town. Yet it was hidden. Perfectly hidden from everything although both times I sat right by the window that took up its entire wall. And yet I still felt hidden.

Unnoticed. Perfect.

I walked in with very little money and sat in the exact same seat as last year. It was late July, and I got stood up by a friend I was supposed to meet. I was travelling back home later that evening and I had so much time to kill. I wandered the streets of Edinburgh, noisy and full of life in its summer haze. The sun was beginning to set and the shiny pavements reflected its golden glow. The whole city glowed in gold.

I wandered aimlessly. I had £3 on me excluding my travel money. Sunday evening. Every affordable café where I could buy something cheap and sit there for hours was closing now. I couldn’t afford a restaurant. I didn’t want to sulk my sadness away on a random bench in the city centre. My phone was on 10% battery. What the hell was I meant to do?

Lothian Road. I walked along one side of the road and thought nothing much of it except that I would probably just be walking back. Then, like an angel from heaven, appeared a little Indian café and takeaway place to my right. It was tiny. So tiny I almost missed it. I saw that it was still open and I walked in, found myself a little table with my back facing the window, and I sank into the cushions.

I was the only person inside at that moment but the place was noisy nevertheless. Noisy with warmth. Noisy in the sense of cutlery clattering lightly and comfortable background noises of food being prepared and coffee being brewed and the little TV in the corner of the ceiling rambling something too quietly to make out the words but loud enough for it to be heard from a distance. It was surreal. Once my phone ran out I took time to read the leaflets on the piles in the corner and the few books they had. I spent three hours doing nothing but existing and very cautiously drinking the only latte I could afford to make sure it lasted me a long time.

Oddly enough, a year later, I ended up there again. I wrote something about it vaguely after the first time I was there, and closed my journal later, never thinking too much of it again. It was a surreal experience for me — feeling both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. I was lost yet I felt safe and warm.

It was late June again. It was a similar evening. Chilly but warm for Edinburgh’s standards. I got stood up again, this time by my boyfriend. He didn’t cancel, but he was running late and once again I had a lot of time to kill before I was able to see him. The memory of this place rushed back into my mind and I realised I have a purpose now. Relieved that I had somewhere to be in the middle of a hectic town where I didn’t want to wander around by myself, I started walking to Lothian Road.

There it was. Hidden, almost invisible. It took me three times to walk back and fourth at one point before I actually found it and I became scared it went out of business, but there it was. My safe hiding place. It looked just the same, with lovely but slightly cheesy motivational religious quotes on the walls about kindness and generosity, and my favourite little seat against the window. The same Indian woman welcomed me with her loving smile. It felt like home.

Only later, once sitting there, did I realised it was the exact same time of the year as last time. In this déjà vu moment I took out my phone, once again on a low battery, and started writing down a little piece about this in my notes app. I realised people seek for their own sanctuaries, whatever they may be. I felt so lost, but within that unpleasant sensation I felt so warm. It really felt like home to me. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to go there every now and then or maybe take a friend there, but something always stops me from going there on a regular day. It’s like what you feel when you have an interesting encounter with a stranger and you are so intrigued in their person and eager to get to know them more, but there is always that hint of hesitation. Deep down you know this was meant to be a once-in-a-lifetime encounter. A fleeting moment wrapped in mystery. If you’d have pursued a further relationship, the magic disappears. There are things in life that cannot be part of your regular life. Secrets you have with yourself.

This is my place. My personal hideout. My secret sanctuary. Maybe this is goodbye, but maybe I will see you again. What I know for sure, though, is that if I see you again, it was meant to be; an encounter written in the stars.