Friday, October 24, 2008

Minor correction

Perhaps I was ever so slightly misinformed yesterday when I said that there was no news about the weather. Now I feel slightly more sane that this kind of thing isn't taken as normal here!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Just a light breeze...

Before coming to Glasgow, I'd heard about the horizontal rain.

The rain today isn't horizontal. It isn't diagonal. It's more or less upsidedown.

According to WeatherChannel.com, the wind gusts today are in the mid-50 mph range. Which means (according to Wikipedia), between the wind and heavy rain, this would be solidly classified as a Tropical Storm.

Except...

...nothing.

This is not considered anything here. No severe weather warning, watch, nothing. No mention of the fact that the wind is so strong that it knocked my earbuds out of my ears! No mention that Kelvin Way has turned into an elephant graveyard of umbrellas (though seriously, who is stupid enough to open an umbrella in this?). It is so stormy out and there is no mention of any of this weather! All the weather reports just call this "rainy" and "windy." In the States, this would be a weather event! But in Glasgow? Apparently this is normal?

Needless to say, I am having the best hair day ever in this weather.

That's Scots for "I Look Like Mufasa."

There is nothing else to talk about but the weather on a day like today.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

I miss the Weather Channel.


Glasgow weather is crazy. Absolutely crazy. It goes from sun to rain to wind to sun to rain to sometimes sun with rain, all in the span of about fifteen minutes. All day long. Insanity. Absolute insanity.

Case in point, yesterday. After several days of seemingly nothing but downpour, it was bright and sunny in the morning. I had to leave the flat by 9am to get down to City Centre for a banking appointment, and was totally excited to have a dry walk. Because it was so sunny out. So I step out of the building, into the sun, and it's pouring. Not drizzling. But full-out rain. While it's brilliantly sunny.

It's also gotten much colder lately, even though the actual temperatures don't seem to have varied much. But it's a chilly damp that hits your bones and really makes me wish I had real gloves (*hint-hint*) instead of the cheap $1 ones I bought at Target the day before I left that don't really keep hands very warm at all. I think the point of gloves is to have your hands not be red and numb when you walk into a building and take them off, which is what happens to me when I wear the Target ones. I'm going to have to hike the 1.8 miles back down to City Centre at some point this weekend and pick up a nice, warm pair.

Here in Glasgow, talking about the weather is not idle small talk. It is legitimate conversation!

Also, I mailed in my absentee ballot on Monday. It was very anti-climactic, voting by mail. I miss the buzz and energy of going to an actual polling place. But still:



Friday, October 17, 2008

An open letter to a fellow student:

Dear Person who read Three Modes of Southern Fiction at the Glasgow Uni library before I did,

WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO CUT OUT PAGES 55-70 WITH WHAT APPEAR TO BE SCISSORS? WHO DOES THIS? ARE YOU MENTALLY RETARDED? ARE YOU JUST CRUEL? DID WILLIAM FAULKNER BAD-TOUCH YOU WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD?

SOME OF US NEED THAT BOOK, AND YOU, JERKFACE, HAD TO DAMAGE THE ONLY COPY AVAILABLE. I HOPE YOU FAIL ALL YOUR COURSES AND CONTRACT SOMETHING VERY BURNY AND ITCHY DOWN IN THE GROINAL REGION.


Not love,

Me




Seriously. WTF.


Sunday, October 12, 2008

Photo diary.

Today was another Sunday in the park, and this time, I brought my camera and photo-documented my walk. All six miles of it.

I must say again, how very lucky a girl I am that Kelvingrove Park is two blocks from my flat. Two blocks. It hardly gets better than this for an almost-backyard.

(This is pretty much photos-only, so it's very image heavy and if you have a slow browser, you'll probably hate me after this.)








The leaves are starting to change colors.







The playground and skatebowl in Kelvingrove Park.






The duck pond.






That fountain/statue thingie that I like.






This statue is a blend of cool and a little unsettling. And donated by the Kennedys. Who knew. I also have this incredibly obnoxious desire to spell it "Kennedies."







Nice parky stuff.





A view over the south end of Glasgow from the top of the park.





The Kelvingrove.







The coolest statue in the park. The next couple photos are the various angles.


In the background, you can see the tower of the Main Building of the uni.













The houses at the top of the park. I'm thinking whenever I first sell the rights of something to Hollywood, I can try to ease the pain of being a sellout by buying one of these.



Same houses, different angle.





Random house in the West End. I'd kill to live in that round room up top though!







It really was a spectacular afternoon.





Another statue.






Walking down along the River Kelvin.






There is a couch. On the side of the river. Oh, Glasgow.






Bridge over the River Kelvin.




The walkway/bicycle path goes for at least four more miles along the River, and maybe more after that. My next project is to see how far I can walk it.





Ruins of an old mill along the river.







Had it not been bright daylight with 500000 people around, I would have been totally creeped out walking through this long, pitch black tunnel which is part of the path. Cue parental yelling.






Just the path. I'm sure Ansel Adams would find a way to make it exciting though. Unfortunately, I am not Ansel Adams.






There are two sets of steps you have to climb to get back up off the path. This is one, below is the other.







I had absolutely NO idea where I was when I left the path along the River, which was part of the fun of it. I'm a big fan of aimless wandering. Turns out, I was in the Botanical Gardens that are just off Great Western Road.







Self-explanatory, and the sign accompanies the below photo.







Just a lovely, random residential West End street.







A different lovely, random residential West End street.






Yet a third different, lovely random residential West End street. A lot of the Glasgow architecture is this sandstone style. Large parts of the city are buildings in this style. It's so very pretty.






A look up Hyndland Road. It's one of THE places to live in the city, and Hyndland Road is lined with boutiques and restaurants and adorable coffee shops with funky furniture.



A look down Hyndland.





...and that's all she wrote! Or rather, photographed.

Labels:

They fought like warrior poets, they fought like Scotsmen...

Yesterday was a big World Cup qualifying day. J and I headed out to a pub in Merchant City to meet up with friends of hers to watch Scotland-Norway there, and I learned two very, very important lessons about Scotland:

1. Scots do not mess around when it comes to their football. I thought the English were bad. Or the Canadians with their hockey. But this was just something else. Maybe it's because national sporting events means that thousands of men on the street are all wearing kilts at once. Or maybe because the streets are all empty and the pubs jam-packed. Regardless, it was an experience, being shoulder to shoulder in a completely at-capacity pub for a qualifying match. There is a different vibe between Scots and Scotland than between other people and their national teams. With Canadians, there's an arrogance. With the English, there's so much cynicism. But with the Scots, it's this desperate love and naive optimism and hope. It's very, very different. It reminded me a lot of watching the Puerto Rican basketball team. And it was a really cool experience. One that probably would have been a bit better had Scotland won. I don't really know much about Chris Iwelumo, except that he really, really should have scored.

2. Scots do not like the English. After the Scotland match ended, we headed back towards the West End, and wandered into a pub on Sauchiehall Street to watch England-Kazakhstan, because that was the match I really cared about getting to watch (knowing that there was no way I'd get to see the USA game). We get to the pub and it's not very crowded, but there's a decent sized group camping out watching the match on the big screens. I assumed since we were in the UK, people would cheer for England, and when Rio scored and threw my arms up and started clapping, I realized I was the only one. And then when Kazakhstan scored... the entire pub went up into cheers and celebration and clapping and singing. This was not some random Kazakh enclave in Glasgow. These were just normal Scots. Booing the English. Aiming the plastic guns from the video game machine at the screen when the English team was shown. It was definitely eye-opening for me, and I felt like a fool assuming that all that Braveheart stuff was in the past. Clearly, it's not. I did not cheer out-loud for the rest of game. And I was really, really glad I went with my gut and did not wear my Rooney shirt for the day. Because that had been my first instinct in the morning. To give it a workout and a breaking in in the UK.

On the way back from Merchant City, however, J points up and says,
"Hey, there's a Trader Joe's!" My heart leaped and I got so excited! Three Buck Chuck! Trader Joe's coffee! Gone Bananas! This Fruit Walks Into a Bar... bars! 100 calorie dark chocolate bars! Those air-puffed barbeque chips! Chili lime cashews!

But... no. It wasn't quite the Trader Joe's I was thinking of, and instead some old-person piano/karaoke bar. Oh, the sadness:




And for good measure, crossing the M8 at night, which is
still one of my favorite Glasgow things to do:





Labels:

Sunday, October 5, 2008

I think I'll go for a walk outside...

I'm not sure if I've ever been angrier at myself than I was today, when I ventured out on a spectacularly bright and sunny Glasgow Sunday, and didn't bring my camera. When I got to the end of the road and realized it, I debated for a moment turning around to go back for it, but decided not to, that there couldn't be that much worth taking pictures of. And I continued on without it and now I hate myself for it.

It was such a beautiful day that I decided to take a walk with my iPod (having made a fresh "A Walk In the Park" mix) in Kelvingrove Park, a wonderful park that sits inbetween my flat and campus, and is just so green, and filled with statues, bowling greens, duck pond, playgrounds, skate ramps, football pitches, hill, benches, fountains, and views. It's marvelous. And on a day like today, a day that's so sunny and clear and not too cold, after days of rain and wind, the park was packed. The skatebowl was full, the playgrounds were full, there were people, all types of people, taking walks, men and boys playing (very muddy) football, dogs running around, ultimate frisbee games going on... as if the entire West End of Glasgow was out in force. I had thrown some school work in my bag, and found an empty picnic table, where I sat and did work in the sunshine for an hour.

Finally hitting my limit for work (and feeling the urge to keep walking for both the walking and the grocery shopping I needed to do, and knowing that I had to get it all done since I'm meeting the girls for half-priced fajita night at Driftwood this evening), I packed it in and kept going through the park, getting to the top of the hill. And there was the moment and view that slayed me. For on top of the hill, not only do you have a spectacular view of Kelvingrove Art Gallery and of campus, but you can see straight into the distance to the hills in the west that are the very tippy base of the start of the Highlands (or at least they are in my head). It was one of those moments that even if I'd had a camera, it wouldn't have done it justice. Total 3x5 moment. Guess you had to be there.

So I finished walking through the park, down to the road again, and meandered around through the West End. It was that nice a day -- the kind where you just want to roam aimlessly through a neighborhood. And the West End on a glorious day like today comes out in full force. Sidewalk cafes and pubs and restaurants, everyone sitting outside and taking in the sunshine, because here, you never know when you're going to get it again. I made my way to Great Western Road and to the Spanish/Mexican/American food store, that sells a bizarre (and really expensive) mix of Latin American food, soul food, Indian food, and then... Smuckers. And A&W Root Beer. And Betty Crocker cake mixes and frosting (much to my dismay though, no Funfetti, or I would I have been all over that). I picked up a couple things there (like black beans) that I haven't been able to find anywhere else (but £1.30 for one can of bean, seriously?) and things that I wouldn't have thought that I could find, but once I saw them, knew I couldn't live without. Like Old Bay. Finding it has made me happier than finding just about anything else food-related in Scotland.

From there, I kept going down GWR back toward Byres, so I could do the rest of my meager shopping at (gulp) Iceland. And as I'm walking past some of the Halal stores, I notice one has produce out front, and they have plantains. And then I get more excited maybe than I did when I saw the Old Bay. So I went inside and quickly learned that clearly, I have been doing all my shopping at the wrong places. Because this store has everything -- cilantro, rice, beans, olives, pita, spices, everything that I like to eat -- for so, so, so much cheaper than the normal grocery stores. And they actually have real rice, which has been a struggle to find other than Uncle Ben's (I'm not even exaggerating). Don't even get me started on finding fresh cilantro.

And so I stocked up on a few things there. A block later, saw another similar type store, only an African one, but with a ton more cheap produce outside. So I picked up some things, walked into the store, and went into the underworld.

This little store was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. Inside, it was dimly lit, with a low ceiling, that had all these elaborate paintings of flowers all over it. On top of that, vines were draped. All across the ceiling. And hanging from the vines? Wigs. And hairpieces. The shelves were lined with both African knock-offs of Western products, and then some other strange things, like whole, cured fishes in piles in a milk crate on the floor. Behind the cash register sat a man not from Africa, but apparently from Middle Earth. He was shaped vaguely like Jabba the Hut, and had this huge round face (white, not black), with full bushy beard, lion mane of yellow hair, and then robes on. I couldn't decide if he was straight out of Lord of the Rings (which I have neither read nor seen) or if he was one of Bowser's minions. Or possibly a combination of the two. He arbitrarily charged for plastic bags (and then upped the price from 10p to 20p when the guy in front of me mouthed off about it -- thank God I brought my own) and was smoking. Just sitting there, in a store, smoking. The guy in front of me questioned him on this too, to which he said, "It's my store, I can smoke if I want." But I can't complain -- I snagged four lemons, another plantain, three huge oranges, and three pomegranates for only £3.75. And he complimented my bag.

So I kept walking down Great Western Road, and when I walked by Cooper's, I realized it was after 3pm, which was when the Spurs-Hull City match was starting. I poked my head in to see if it was on one of the big screens, assuming it would be usurped for Chelsea or Liverpool or Man City, and realized that all of the Premiership games were second fiddle today because Rangers-St. Mirren was on. So I've been in the UK for three weeks now and only seen one half of one Spurs game. Also, I still haven't quite worked out my Glaswegian football loyalties. I realize that logic and Catholicism dictate that I support Celtic, but it seems like everyone supports Rangers, and that's where I seem to feel a draw. So for now, I'll remain neutral.

And then I kept walking, finally turning off GWR onto Byres. I popped into Iceland for the remainder of my groceries. And stopped at the cash machine. And the it was home.

Total walking distance: 3.5 miles. All in a day's shopping.

It is almost fajita time!

Below are some photos, albeit not mine, of the lovely Kelvingrove Park. Any pictures where you don't see the sun, picture the sun. Because it is just an amazing weather day today.

DISCLAIMER: not mine. I apologize a thousand times over to whoever took these pictures and posted them on Flickr, as clearly I have stolen them.




























Labels:

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Take me out to the ballgame.

There is nothing to give a girl a twinge of homesickness like not being able to get access to American sports.

It is a dark and rainy night here in Glasgow. And cold, too. After class at 7:30pm, I walked down (in the pouring rain) to the GUU to see if I could watch the Phillies game there. Which apparently, I could. Meaning they have the ability to show it to me. But they won't. A Liverpool Champions League match apparently trumps the NLDS and has to be shown on every TV in the Beer Bar (which I could understand if it were Celtic or Rangers, but it's not and we're not Merseyside, so why not one itty bitty television sacrificed?). The other option would be to hike down to The Sports Cafe on Sauchiehall in City Centre, but it's well over a mile, pouring rain, dipping down into the 30°s tonight (errr, single digits), and I had no guarantee I'd be able to watch it there either. Which is fine. I live in another country. I accept that.

But the super frustrating thing came when getting back to my room, figuring I'd just listen to it on the computer. Except apparently, I can't. The only option I can find that will work is MLB's "International" package, which is $24 for video, $14.95 for audio. And I'll be damned if I'm paying $14.95 to listen to baseball. This is America. Baseball on the radio is like air.

Or rather, I suppose this isn't America. So nevermind.

Nor was it America yesterday when I was on the 4th floor of the Adam Smith building (a tall, ugly, modern building on campus that just so happens to have spectacular views from the higher floor lecture halls) and one of my Scottish classmates asked if there was a lift (elevator) back down to the ground floor. And ever the litigious American that I am chirped, "There has to be! ADA!" Except this isn't America, so no American Disabilities Act, no guaranteed form of transportation for the disabled. I'm sure there's something comparable here in the UK, but I sure as heck don't know what it is.

Don't get me wrong, I love Glasgow and wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. I'm just mildly grumpy to have to Gamecast the NLDS. Which is no fault of Scotland's and entirely the fault of MLB. So if I'm cross with anyone this evening, it's MLB (YEAAAAAAAAAH, CHASE UTLEY IN THE BOTTOM OF THE THIRD!). And the weather doesn't help; I'm chilled to the bone and perhaps this is contributing to me being less than super cheerful right now. But again, this is my fault for not wearing a warmer coat tonight.