Vacation Day Fourteen-A Great Day for a White Wedding (and a 1975 VW Hippie Microbus, God Forbid)

Well, I had to suspend posting so that I could come home (thank the Lord). Let's just say, I was gone too long, and I'm so glad I'm Living in the USA ("somebody get me a cheeseburger!").

But I visited two other places before doing so, and I'll tell you about one today and one in the next post.

Today's destination was Glasgow, about a 30 minute train ride from Stirling, where I'm staying at the White Trash Bed and Breakfast. Oh, yeah, didn't I tell you? This place is the pits. I'm surprised I didn't see any rats or graffiti there. Basically, some older couple (he has more eyebrow hair than scalp hair, she's fresh off her appearance on People of WalMart) turned most of their house into a B&B. The lady owner smokes all day long, so that sweet tobacco carbon monoxide aroma drifts up to my room. The bathroom (which lacks a shower) is down the hall (and I share it with some ex-con soccer hooligan type). I have to use some sort of nozzle apparatus to shower, kind of like using the garden hose. The room is hard to describe. The best I can come up with is "termite mound." This place makes my friend Tracy's New York City broom closet/apartment, where the building hallways smell like cab driver feet, seem like Graceland.

One more thing before getting to Glasgow, I want to talk about the "full Scottish breakfast." Which, by the way, is pretty much the same thing as the "full Irish breakfast." Surprisingly, its not some variation of waffles, pancakes, Cocoa Pebbles and cream. Go figure. Everywhere I've been these last couple of weeks, "breakfast" consists of the following: grilled tomato, mushrooms, bacon (not strips, just sliced off the pig and fried in a skillet), sausage (cause, you know, you can't get enough pork), and eggs. In Scotland, you sometimes have a "haggis" option, while in Ireland its "black pudding." Haggis, as near as I can tell, consists of lamb leftovers, oatmeal, and lint. Not the sort of thing that I'm putting in my fuel tanks. While black pudding, which I did have a few bites of, seems too terrifying to know the ingredients, so I deliberately haven't checked. Its a solid, circular dab of some mysterious meat-like black substance, with an infusion of some sort of pod-like nodules. Its got that hard to place gamy taste that you don't normally get outside of Hudson's on the Bend, or the hot place I illegally used in my college dorm room. I suppose this may explain why the Irish and Scottish Olympic teams seldom win a lot of medals. They should instead train with Little Chocolate Donuts.

On to Glasgow. With two days left on this never-ending vacation, I faced the question of how to spend what was likely to be the one, and only one, day without rain and lots of sunny skies before going home. I could hike today and visit Glasgow tomorrow in the rain, or hike in the rain tomorrow and see Glasgow on a fine Saturday. I chose the latter, and boarded Scottish Rail for a half hour commute. Though I had a car, I took the train to avoid having to deal with driving and parking, and because gas prices are astronomical. Something like 1.45 pounds per liter, which translates to $8.05/gallon. And we think the oil companies are screwing US over? I just want to thank the oil companies for hammering the Euros twice as hard as us. Take the train it was.

I arrived around 11:00 a.m. The train station is adjacent to George Square, in the heart of town. Laid out in the late 1700s as a tribute to King George III (yeah, the one we rebelled against), its now sort of a national tribute to famous Scots with statues of the likes of Walter Scott, Sir Robert Peel, etc. Though I didn't see a Scotty statue, which represents a grave omission.

I took the "get off, get on" bus tour, like I had in Dublin. That's not really what its called, by the way.

First stop was Glasgow Cathedral, dating from the 1400s. Guess you can tell, if you've read my previous posts, I like to visit castles and cathedrals (no, that's not the name of the newest BBC soap opera). Architecture baby, architecture. Plus its fascinating that medieval people, who basically were about as well off as cave men but with better roofs, put so much energy and innovation into these buildings. Castles were fortresses, relatively ugly but functional, while cathedrals were shrines to glorify God. That and the corrupt church hierarchy liked lording them over the peasantry.

Glasgow Cathedral falls into that category. Like others on this trip, it too exudes splendor and inspires awe and reverence for God. Unlike other medieval cathedrals, largely done in by Protestant reform gangs wielding pitchforks and torches, the local merchants banded together to defend this cathedral when the hordes came to burn it down. By the way, nice going 18th century Christians. Everywhere I went I ran across the same story: "Reformation happens, Cromwell takes over, Protestants band together to torch churches and property." Hell, the Taliban thinks that was a little extreme. Let's not forget, as we so smugly and earnestly (but properly) condemn the "freedom-hating" Muslim extremists who want to burn and destroy, Western Civilization went through this stage too. Let's not forget all the abuses in the name of Christianity-the Inquisition, the Reformation, concealment of Nazi war atrocities, Northern Ireland terror, the Crusades, art thievery, witch trials, banning dancing in that town in Footloose....It doesn't excuse blowing up embassies and skyscrapers by any means, nothing could of course, but it should inform your perspective if you think they're just animals and the West is so far above that.

Rant concluded.

Now, Glasgow Cathedral has retained most of its pre-Reformation structures, and therefore has a much more Gothic appearance than other British Isles cathedrals. I know, fascinating. Like other cathedrals, the impact of the Great War and other conflicts on the congregation lies in plain view. Memorials to fallen soldiers abound at every turn. Glasgow Cathedral seems much larger than others I've visited. Its got extensive facilities below the main sanctuary as well, including several small chapels, and the last resting place of St. Mungo, some early Christian saint who brought Christianity to this part of the world. I could only think of "Mongo" from Blazing Saddles. Which is why I'm an Ugly American. "Mongo like candy!"

From there it was on to the bone yard. Specifically, to the creepily-named Necropolis. Sounds like a horror movie, but in fact, this is the fancy cemetery on the hill near the Cathedral where all the 18th and 19th century rich guys were buried. Cause good real estate is good real estate, even when you're dead. Its notable for all the opulent and elaborate tombstones and memorial structures that litter the place. It kind of reminded me of Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires, where Eva Peron is buried, though its much more open (giving the dead residents, who by the way are still eligible to vote in Chicago elections, better views).

From there it was on to the Burras open air market, which at first looks like a flea market, but upon closer inspection is really more like a cross between a bunch of garage sales and the mercado in Matamoros. It like the kind of place where you'd see Henry Hill selling stolen cigarettes from the back of a 1962 Lincoln. Not exactly Portobello Road here. It kind of looks like the Sanford and Son set. This is where you go to get a fake ID, or score weed without references (and get an old Kool and the Gang album while you're at it). Finally, I've stumbled onto Detroit while I'm here.

Since that's not really my scene, I moved on to take in more of the bus tour. We passed by such landmarks as the Clyde River bridge, the Riverside Museum (which had some sort of bicycle festival going on), University of Glasgow, Kelvingrove Park and Museum (currently hosting an AC-DC exhibition), the Botanical Gardens, the Science Center, St. Andrews Square, the bee-hive looking Exhibition and Conference Center, and the People's Palace. The tour guides explained that Glasgow was a really industrial city, with shipbuilding constituting one of the largest industries, until the 1970s. At that point, all the jobs went overseas (big thank you to unions that drove up wages to non-competitive levels), and industry went away. One byproduct though was so did the pollution. The town converted to other types of commerce, cleaned all the soot off the 19th century buildings, and become a very attractive destination.

I got out and walked around the University area. Known as the West End, its American in nature. The University campus is really nice, with an incredibly impressive quadrangle area featuring some stunning architecture, specifically the main towers. West of there lies Byers Road, a fashionable stretch with lots of shops, cafes, bars and restaurants. On this really great Saturday, pedestrians packed both sides of the street. From there I walked all the way up to the Botanical Gardens. While not as imposing or extensive as those in other cities, the Glasgow version is quite lovely, with several glasshouses and nice grounds. There, as I have in many places, I observed yet another wedding (see photo above). The men in the wedding party were wearing kilts, a custom that happily never caught on in other countries. Could you imagine guys in Wisconsin wearing kilts? Yikes! The bride and groom were to be whisked off, however, in a 1975 VW microbus, festooned for the occasion. You know, nothing says class like leaving your wedding looking like you're going to follow Widespread Panic on tour. The white bow across the front was a lovely touch.

Then I went to Kelvingrove Museum to pass a little bit more time. Its not so much a museum as an attic. They don't really focus on anything in particular, and just seem to display whatever their trustees get their hands on. Like the old Spitfire shown above (next to the giraffe, which happened frequently during the Battle of Britain), or stuffed animals, or the AC-DC exhibition. Rock on! But the building itself was magnificent.

From there it was back to the City Centre, where I basically spent the rest of the time walking around, admiring the incredible buildings. The tallest movie theatre in the world is located in Glasgow. True story! Check my flickr site for lots of photos. I sensed a much more energetic vibe in Glasgow than I did in Edinburgh. Maybe that's because it was a weekend, but it seemed more youthful, more relaxed, more fun, and more about today than yesterday than Edinburgh, which seemed kind of stuffy by comparison. Glasgow has extensive pedestrian malls, and people had crowded nearly every inch of them. At the end of one, as the sun was setting, a guy was playing "Sophisticated Lady" impeccably on his saxophone. That's a guy in Scotland, playing a Duke Ellington song from the 1930s, written for him to perform at the Cotton Club in Harlem. It just goes to show, art knows no time or place. True art exists timelessly outside those constraints.

After eating at a pretty good Italian place, I headed back to Stirling, where I looked forward to delighting in my luxurious accommodations.

Next-Lake Lomond, and my rain-soaked assault on the Scottish Highlands. And...girls.