Travel is often described as a journey of places, but for me, it is also a journey of the soul. During my time in Edinburgh, I visited castles, wandered through ancient streets, and admired the breathtaking views from Arthur’s Seat. Yet, the most profound moment of my journey came on May 11, 2025, at 16:37, when I stepped into the Edinburgh Central Mosque and joined a prayer that would forever stay in my heart.
The First Glimpse
As I walked along Potterrow that afternoon, the minaret of the mosque appeared above the rooftops, elegant and steady, like a hand pointing toward heaven. The sandstone walls glowed warmly in the spring sunlight, harmonizing with the city’s historic architecture. It felt both familiar and foreign — a reminder that faith knows no borders, even in the heart of Scotland.
Crossing the threshold, I felt the world outside dissolve. The festival crowds, the laughter of students, the hum of traffic — all of it faded. Inside, there was only calm: the hush of footsteps on carpet, the scent of prayer rugs, and a stillness that invited me to slow down.
Joining the Prayer
When the call to prayer rose through the hall, my heart stirred. I stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers from every corner of the world — students, travelers, families, locals — all united in the same rhythm. Together we bowed, together we prostrated, together we whispered verses that have carried across centuries.
In that moment, the walls of difference vanished. I was no longer a traveler passing through Edinburgh. I was part of a greater unity, a timeless congregation bound not by geography, but by faith. The words I recited were the same words my family recited at home, the same words spoken in mosques oceans away. It was a reminder that prayer is a home we can carry within us, wherever we go.
A Meal Among Strangers, A Family in Spirit
After prayer, I followed the warm fragrance of spices to the mosque’s restaurant. The air was alive with steam rising from plates of biryani and shawarma, and the chatter of students mixing with the laughter of travelers. I joined a table where stories flowed easily — exams, journeys, homesickness, and hope. Strangers became companions, and over a simple meal, I felt the comfort of belonging.
It struck me then: mosques are not only places of worship. They are places of community, of friendship, of shared humanity. That small dining hall beneath the mosque was, for me, as sacred as the prayer hall above.
Reflections Beyond the Walls
The mosque also carried a message beyond worship. On its noticeboards were invitations to interfaith dialogues, charity drives, and cultural events. This was not a space closed to outsiders, but a bridge open to all — Muslims and non-Muslims, believers and seekers alike. It was a living testament that faith can be both deeply personal and profoundly inclusive.
Stepping back into the streets at 4:37 p.m., the city felt transformed. Edinburgh’s familiar beauty remained, but it now carried a deeper resonance. For I had not only walked its streets — I had prayed within its heart.
A Prayer Carried Forward
That day, my prayer in Edinburgh Central Mosque became more than a moment. It became a memory etched into the journey of my soul. Travel had shown me castles and landscapes, but here, in this mosque, it had shown me something greater: the power of faith to create home, even far from where we are born.
Whenever I remember Edinburgh, I will not only recall its history or its festivals. I will remember that spring afternoon of May 11, 2025, when time slowed at 16:37, and in a city far away, I found peace, community, and the reminder that we are never truly alone.
“We travel to discover the world, but in prayer we discover that the world is already one.”