84 Weather

  Edinburgh awoke under a blanket of low, brooding clouds, their edges tinged with the faintest hint of silver. The air was cool, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of autumn and the faint tang of salt from the nearby Firth of Forth. The temperature lingered around 10°C (50°F), a refreshing chill that nipped at exposed skin and hinted at the season’s turn. The sky, a patchwork of gray and white, seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the sun to break through. It was a day that felt quintessentially Scottish—moody, dramatic, and utterly captivating. By mid-morning, the clouds began to part, revealing glimpses of a pale, watery sun. The light, though weak, cast a soft glow over the city’s sandstone buildings, turning them a warm honey color. The breeze, cool and insistent, carried with it the faint sound of bagpipes, their mournful melody drifting from somewhere in the Old Town. It was the kind of day that invited layers—scarves, jackets, and perhaps even a hat—but also a sense o...

  Prague, the city of a hundred spires, awoke to the soft, persistent drumming of rain. The weather forecast had predicted a high of 14°C (57°F) with an 80% chance of precipitation, and the skies delivered with a quiet determination. The rain was not the fierce, tempestuous kind that lashes against windows and floods streets, but a steady, gentle drizzle that seemed to seep into the very soul of the city. The air was cool and damp, carrying with it the faint scent of wet cobblestones and autumn leaves. The Vltava River, which winds its way through the heart of Prague, was a mirror of gray, its surface rippling with the countless drops of rain that fell from the sky. The usual bustle of boats and riverside cafes was subdued, replaced by a quiet serenity that seemed to envelop the city. The Charles Bridge, one of Prague's most iconic landmarks, was a ghostly silhouette in the mist, its statues of saints gazing down with silent solemnity. The few pedestrians who braved the weather mov...