Maybe I’m just suffering from a thing they call the Post-Festival-Blues. After four weeks of living in the midst of a cultural craze that doubled the city’s population overnight and transformed every half-decent place in Edinburgh into a clamorous venue, it all seems a bit weird to clock back to normal. Suddenly the streets feel dead empty. No buskers fighting for the best spot on Royal Mile, no flyer-issuing human androids who advertise nothing less than the best night of your entire life, no tidal wave of theatre, comedy and music offers and yeah, even the overload of tourists has dropped down to a bearable minimum. Could be worse, you might say. Yes and No. Maybe Edinburgh did just remind me of a condensed mini-version of London, that incredible cultural melting pot that has taught me what it feels to be never fully alone. Kind of odd, because having a getaway from the masses and being just one step away from a beautiful wilderness is exactly what I cherish so much about living up here in Scotland. I suppose, it’s all about balance. Buzz and Tranquility. Sooner or later, I’ll enjoy the quieter life again. Until next year.