Sunday, January 29, 2012

Bonnie Scotland.

It has been awhile. Right now there is sunshine outside my window, and the voices of men doing construction next door lack the expected Glasgow lilt. California is nice, we have vegetables and recycling, and markedly less rain. Back for a month, and I miss Scotland, but the pangs are bearable as I am still pretty thrilled to be in the beautiful, beautiful bay. I suppose I should finish my travelogue, before getting back to the normal swing of things; not because I think anyone will read it but because I think it will come in handy. What with my very shoddy recording habits and a million blank journals stashed under my bed. So lets see, the remaining Glasgow highlights before the Christmas travel extravaganza began. I got to see Girls. Yes, another American band. It was wondrous. November in Glasgow was freezing, and I wrote this after an incident with a stapler that left me disturbed and more in love than ever.


It’s never bright enough that I don’t need the light on
Even at Midday 
This may be a real November
My hair only curls when it rains
Lately it’s been so curly the mirror has forgotten I have ears
When I staple my finger
It's so cold it doesn’t bleed

Friends visited from Spain and France, they grimaced over Scottish breakfast and ooohed over chips and curry. Thanksgiving was celebrated with an American feast and British companionship, as well as an impromptu fiddle session by a lovely girl from Skye. Christmas came to George's Square and many a night was spent shivering and smiling at the Christmas market. Birthdays were celebrated nicely and sleazily at Nice n' Sleazy, and we got our first snowfall which was magic. There was a midnight pajama walk to campus with a bunch of wide-eyed California kids, as pure white feathers fell from the sky, and we laughed in disbelief. Eden and I took a trip to the Highlands in the middle of a hurricane and made it home safely by the grace of god and Billy the tour guide. There were of course more Stuart Murdoch sightings, and even a trip to the Blair Estate, the ancestral seat of my Scottish predecessors. I have been dreaming of that trip since the silliest days of girlhood, and actually making it with Eden and a dusting of snow on the ground was kind of the best thing ever. After that it was off to London, Prague, Berlin, and Christmas in Heidenau before a few messy and mournful last days in Glasgow. Here is some (read: far too much)  photographic proof to substantiate the last paragraph. 

Living under the Union Jack. 

Not the Girls show, but the Antlers at the ever hip King Tut's. 

View from Calton Hill, Edinburgh at night. 

Fiddling at Thanksgiving. 

Eating the leftovers the night of Thanksgiving. It was delicious. 

Black pudding, bacon, sausage, potato scone, baked beans, fried eggs and fried tomato = Scottish Breakfast. 

Christmas slide at Georges Square, 


Birthday bakery trip. Happy happy kids. 

The Kelvingrove river. 

Birthday timez. 

The ultimate pub wall graffiti. Maggie Smith FTW!


Making snow angels in the quadrangle. 

Sledding in Kelvingrove. 

My hood. 

Getting to know the statuary at the Wallace Monument. 

Monty Python castle. 

Anyone for a swim?


Hello hurricane!


The misty, snowy highlands. 

The road to Blair Estate. 

The door, above which the house is dated 1203. 

My christmas card pose. 

The grounds. 

Glasgow outskirts with a dusting of snow.