A Welcome to Glascow

Day 4: I finally got a journal today, here in Skye, Scotland. It is 12:48am. In actuality I suppose it is day 5, but as I refuse to edit my mistakes it shall remain day 4. I'm sitting in a cozy chair of a very pleasant (if simple) bed and breakfast, drinking a cup of the best Scotland hot cocoa I've ever had (it's pretty much like any American hot cocoa with the notable exception that both the cocoa and myself are in Scotland). So far it's been one hell of a trip, and we've only just begun.

Scott and I left America the night of Friday, June 18th, and set down mid-day of the 19th. We expected to meet our parents the following day, which left us an overnight to wander and explore the large Scottish city of Glascow ourselves. The first thing that we noticed, during that long hour and a half that we spent lugging our luggage back and forth along the same lengthy streets in a confused attempt to find our hotel, is that Glascow has been constructed utterly without logic.

Our hotel was in the middle of the city, and from what I've seen Glascow city seemed pretty much like any big city I've ever seen in America, with a few minor differences. The most major of these is that just about everyone is white. This was actually kind of disorienting to me. In every other major city I can recall, minorities are pretty numerous. In D.C. I'd guess far more than half the population are clearly not from Caucasia. This absence of diversity isn't something I would have expected to rattle me, but it did.

Another big difference here is the traffic. I think most people know of the obvious differences. Cars drive on the left side of the road (somehow deeply disturbing, and not something I expect I will adjust to). Cars are tiny in comparison with American cars (we saw what looked to be a van except it was smaller than Sando, my station wagon). What most people do not know is that pedestrian conduct is a bit different in Scotland. The pedestrian signs take an eternity to say "walk", but when they do, all cars are given a red light. In essence, the walk symbol is the pedestrians’ personal green light, and they can walk wherever they please during it. Of course, this is not so easy to figure out when you're actually there, and no one bothered to tell my brother or myself what in Reagan's name was going on. The first time I watched people cross the street diagonally, walking without a care in the world as cars all around them revved their engines, I just thought people in Scotland were crazy.

Glascow shares D.C.'s talent in making street navigation into a game of chip's challenge. Thus if you are on a straight road starting at point B, with point A a block behind you, the road is almost certainly a one-way road. If you wish you get to point A, though it is merely a block away, it will most likely take roughly twenty minutes travel time (even if you do it perfectly and don't get lost), because the roads are appear to be the brainchild of Hitler.

However I have not yet mentioned the most annoying aspect of Glascow. The most annoying aspect of Glascow, and the reason my brother and I spent an hour and a half dragging our luggage back and forth along the same 5-block stretch, is that for some reason addresses are not displayed on most buildings. All buildings must, we've concluded, have addresses (we have the address to our hotel, so we suspect all the other buildings must have one too). However, for some inexplicable reason, they are displayed on only 1 out of every 20 buildings we saw (this is a very generous estimate, across the 5-blocks we found only 4 addresses). The 4 addresses we did find were laid out in a manner that managed to turn us around not once, or twice, but 5 times -- each time thinking we'd found new proof as to what direction the addresses were going. What a city...

A Scottish Mugging

During this time, I was stopped by a boy about my age with two elderly ladies in his company. In the thickest Scottish accent I’ve ever heard, he stammered something to me about a pound (UK currency), all the while holding out a handful of pence in front of him. From what I could make out, I thought he was asking if I could give him a pound for 100 pence change. I’ve lived in or by D.C. a long time, so I don’t know what got into me, but I uncertainly handed him a pound.

I stood there waiting for my change from him. Instead, he stammered even harder than before and in a thicker accent, pointing with one hand to the change in the other. Over the course of a good deal of hasty, shaky, incomprehensible pleading I made out the words “may I just have one more, please” (or something like that). He again made confusing gestures regarding the change he was holding. Stupified by both his words and manners (he looked ready to have an emotional breakdown) I still somehow thought he wanted to exchange a pound for pence, though this time I thought he was trying to offer me around 60 pence as compensation for a pound. This was clearly a bad deal for me. The man was not big, nor was he intimidating. However, he did have me on the spot, and had already seen another pound in my hand from when I took the first one from a handful of change (the pound is only in coin, not paper). More than that, the man seriously looked like he might have a seizure. So I handed him another pound. He abruptly calmed down a great deal, stammered a thank you, and began walking away toward a bus waiting there. The old ladies with him, both clearly embarrassed by his behavior, both thanked me as they followed behind him. I never saw any change, but then I didn’t wait around.

I’ve considered that this could have been a small-time scam, but I really don’t think so. If it was, the guy was really good at his act, and not too ambitious with what he wanted. If someone scans you in D.C., you can expect your back account to be drained by the end. 2 pounds is pretty paltry by comparison.

First Attempt at Sleep Abroad

Anyway, after finally finding our hotel (the willow hotel) we set out again for a very late lunch. We ate at an italian place called Dino’s. We wanted a more Scottish place, such as a good Scottish pub (which at least in Ireland tend to be pretty family oriented places which serve cheap food in addition to being a bar) . Sadly, most of the pubs we found seemed much closer to the American style of pub (smoky, crowded, unwelcoming, and without food). After roaming the city streets and finding 2 McDonalds, a Burger King, KFC, and an A&W, we caved and went to Dino’s.

The food wasn’t great, but there was some redeeming value, for I got to drink with my brother his first legal pint (the drinking age in Scotland is 16). Sadly it was Tennets, a beer I’d heard of before but don’t recall ever trying before. Personally, I’d be pressed to tell it from Budweiser. Still, a pint with your brother is a pint with your brother.

On a side note, have I mentioned how much I love my brother? I love my brother. I can’t remember quite when it happened, but somewhere along the line, the kid I constantly bickered with and who would just never go away became one of my best friends. I can think of few people in the world I would rather have with me here, and it makes me really happy to be able to honestly say that. We had planned on having a late lunch at Dino’s, but as neither of us had gotten any sleep on the plane, we passed out in our hotel room at 6 in the afternoon.

Sleep is odd here in Scotland. In Glascow it began getting light at 3:30am as it might at 5:30 in Maryland. Where I’m writing this in Skye (significantly north of Glascow) I watched the sunset at 11:30pm tonight. Jet lag is hard enough, but when late night in Skye looks like late afternoon in Maryland, I simply don’t know how to adjust. In any case, my brother and I went in and out of sleep until 10 the next morning. Near as I could tell, the partying outside stopped around 7am.

Day 2: Best Indian Food of my Life. Buh???

Once we dragged ourselves out of bed (as well we should after 16 hours of sleep) we found a cheap restaurant / pub in town after some solid searching of our area. Scott ordered a bacon cheeseburger, and I almost spit out my food laughing when he realized that there was ham on it instead (in the UK they call ham ‘bacon’, as we both knew from our visit to Ireland years ago, but had forgotten). I, myself, had a mint lamb burger (I’m not educated enough of the European meat industry to boycott it as I boycott America’s). I wasn’t too sure about the taste, but it may just be that I’m not used to lamb. I had a pint of Blackthorne’s dry cider with my meal. The taste was more subtle and less sweet than I’m used to in a cider, but I enjoyed it.

After that we went back to the hotel to await our parents imminent arrival. Through a bad miscommunication we expected our parents arrival around 1:30, when in fact they did not arrive until 5:30. So in essence, Scott and I spent our first full day in Scotland playing Settlers of Catan in our hotel room. However, given the limited experiences we had wandering Glascow, I can’t say as I feel overly much regret.

When finally our parents arrived, we hungrily departed to look for dinner. After a good deal of debate, my brother convinced everyone to try a gaudy looking Indian restaurant named the Kama Sutra. Who would have guessed that inside this tacky restaurant, with stick figures in vaguely suggesting positions all around the room, I would find the best Indian food I’ve ever had?

Now, my mother loves Indian food, and so I am familiar with a great many Indian restaurants in the D.C. area, and know which 3 or 4 are the best, and thus I am no stranger to Indian cuisine. No restaurant I’ve been to compares to Kama Sutra to my palate. One dish was so spicy that I discovered what I’d never before known: if the food is spicy enough it triggers my hickups. We all shared and I don’t remember what any of us had – only that it was wonderful and that my own dish was the spiciest thing I’ve had since the cafeteria played a prank on us in 10^th grade.

Along with diner I had a bottle of an Indian lager the staff recommended. With a name like Cobra, I’d never have tried it if they hadn’t. I was pleasantly surprised with that as well. You can see through it easily, which means it’s not my usual type, but it had a good deal of substance to it, and I approved.

Father's Day Pint

Did I mention it was fathers day? I convinced my father later that evening to let me take him out for a Father’s day pint with my brother. We noticed a pub that advertised having Orkney ales, and I hoped that it would have Dark Island on tap. The name of this pub was the State, and though it turned out to be a very pleasant and atmospheric pub, it had nothing made by the Orkney Brewery I so love. Both the bar and all the furniture seemed very upscale and classy, somehow it had a wallstreet-goes-drinking feel to it. But despite the upscale feel, 3 pints of good beer cost 6 pounds.

As a side note, drinking in Scotland is blissfully inexpensive compared to America. I’ve been sampling beer at almost every occasion because it’s not much more expensive than drinking soda. 2 pounds seems to buy a pint most anywhere. I think I’d be less averse to frequenting American pubs if the pubs didn’t charge 4 times what I could buy the beer for in stores. I’m going to miss Scotland’s pubs.

The beer of the night advertised to be from the Orkneys was called Kilburn Red. A little lighter than I usually like, but I was very fond of it, and it’s probably my favorite of the beers I’ve tried here. It has a funny almost fruit-like taste to it and was very tasty. Perhaps I’ll look for it again in the future.

Beer aside, my brother, father, and I had a long and wonderful evening of drinking and discussing psychology, politics, and feminism. It was a very nice was to end father’s day.

The morning sun saw my father, brother, and myself rise and take the long comedy of errors that was our walk to the car rental place. Once there, my father had the pleasure of attempting to drive on the left side of the road. Just watching almost gave me a heart attack, and I closed my eyes at least the first few times he had to take a left or a right. I can only imagine being the driver. Driving on the left hand side of the road is more disconcerting than I could have possibly imagined, but somehow we made it out of Glascow safe and sound.

It is now 3:14am in Skye, and it’s getting light again outside. I suspect it’s long past time I got me to bed. Goodnight,

~Allan