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.
Untitled
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,
Lights!
Birthday bakery trip. Happy happy kids.
The Kelvingrove river.
Birthday timez.
The ultimate pub wall graffiti. Maggie Smith FTW!
Snow.
Making snow angels in the quadrangle.
Sledding in Kelvingrove.
My hood.
Getting to know the statuary at the Wallace Monument.
Today it rained all day. There was also wind. My umbrella is going to be in recovery for a long time. Thought i'd put up a little creative recount of the this month's Guy Fawkes/Bonfire night festivities. My friends and I, along with most of the city, booked it out to Glasgow Green to watch the fireworks. Fireworks in winter are kind of a new phenomenon for me. They started going off in the streets right around daylight savings time (Glaswegians really know how to make use of the extra darkness).
I have accompanied it with photos gleaned from the Flickr account of a certain Terry Clerkson whom I thank very much. They were taken from a different location than mine but I think they are beautiful and also give a glimpse of the Gorbals. Yeah, there is a part of town called the Gorbals. Look it up.
Bonfire Night
Winter is in the grass on the Green
The cold seeps upward
Through sole and sock
All the city is out
Breathing into November’s early
black
As smoke drifts
Across East End sky
And a mist hangs on the Clyde
Where reflected fireworks bloom
and sparkle
Lamps light faces
And carnival music plays
Over the hush of the crowd
Hands held for warmth
But more for the fear of losing
them to the night.
Okie doke. That's pretty much it. Oh, and this song. A Scottish-Amurican alliance in music. I am all over this! AberDEEEEEEEEEN! I saw them perform this song here and it was neat.
Paris is magical. It is not hyper-saturated like in Amelie. It appears in real color, feels like a dirty city, and it is so much better! Even the plane ride was beautiful. Flying in the sun was on the ocean, with little white boats leaving trails of foam in the blue, and clouds drifting above. The coast was golden and I was so excited. We drove into the city on a bus full of Scots, all straight off the plane. We made it to Angela's little flat, where she was kind enough to put us up. Then we took a night walk through the city starting in Le Marais, past the Notre Dame, eerily deserted at night, and across the seine with the perfect crescent moon reflected on its surface.
The next day we breakfasted on brioche at the apartment then headed to Montmartre, where we saw the Moulin Rouge and climbed the steps up to the Sacre Coeur. We saw the beautiful mosaics inside then it was back on the metro to meet some friends. Unexpected highlight was a dinner of hand pulled chinese noodles. So much delicious.
View of the city from the Sacre Coeur
The Sacre Couer
The Eiffel through the haze at dusk.
Some pretty Paris rooftops.
Sunday was icy cold and sunny. We went to the Bastille market, where we watched a man juggle with a fishbowl on his head, sampled mangoes and figs, ate roast chicken and potatoes out of a paper bag, and had crepes with jam. We went to Pere Lachaise to see the grave of Oscar Wilde (sadly under construction at the time) but also got to see the graves of Georges Melies, Chopin, Edith Piaf, and Jim Morrison. Next we took the metro to Laduree to get some of their famed macarons. I got pistachio and chocolate. They were beautiful. We ate them in the sunshine along the Seine, then walked along the river further to the Ile Saint Louis to get some Berthillon ice cream. Cones in hand we perched ourselves on a wall overlooking the river and the Notre Dame. The sunset was lovely. This was followed by a dinner of fondue served by a crazed racist Frenchman.
At the market.
Bread.
The chicken man and his chicken stand.
Leaves falling at the cemetery.
Mausoleums and cobblestones.
The seine with some cute barges in the corner.
The fence with all the locks of love.
My shoes.
Angela, Kiley and I. Smiling despite the fact that we missed our macarons already.
Pistachio macaron. Thanks to Eden for the photo, and for some of the others as well!
General prettiness along the river.
The girls walking by some booksellers on the way to ice cream.
The Seine. Also, on the left is the Notre Dame.
Fall leaves on the trees.
Berthillon ice cream.
So much happy.
The metro.
Muggin' in a passport photo booth.
Monday was our last day. We purchased pastries and baguettes from the Boulangerie next to Angela's and breakfasted in the park. She headed off to school, and we headed to the Eiffel Tower baguettes under arm, like true Frenchwomen. It was a beautiful day, and the tower was huge, and wonderfully surreal. We picnicked and pranced, taking silly photos and spoiling everyone's sightseeing by being gleeful loud Americans. We left and met up with Angela, she showed us Sciences Po where we gawked at the pretty boys, and then we went back to her place, hastily consumed some fabulous Greek sandwiches, and got back on the metro headed to the airport.
Crazy stairs up to the apartment.
Angela's place.
The bakery.
Coffee and chocolate eclairs.
Oh look. It is me and the Eiffel tower.
Me being French.
Close up of the tower.
Goodbye Paris!
Despite all the good eats, and unbelievable prettiness it was good to come back to Glasgow where the streets smell of curry and frying things, and people are friendly. Here is a bit of my Paris soundtrack.
