Tickets, money, passports?

The weather here in Glasgow has been crazy this week, going from sun to rain to sleet to howling winds to sun again. It seems to be stuck in this pattern, changing hourly. It was pouring two hours ago when I walked back from City Centre. Now? Blue skies and sun abound.

But it doesn't matter, because I'm headed for sunnier climes, as continental Europe is apparently much more pleasant right now than Scotland. Sunday I hit up Paris, then jump on the train that evening for Mons, and then spend the next week with Rachel and her parents in Belgium (and sometimes France). All before hopping onto a 777 next Friday and heading home.

It's going to be a crazy travel week, but I'm really looking forward to it. I'm at my happiest when in transit.

It's also going to be Twitter-only for me most likely next week. I really need a cheaper mobile company.

Fear the Turtle.

I'm officially done with classes, and Glasgow is celebrating with me by having spectacular weather. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were all sunny, mild, and almost 60°. Glasgow has become a different city; it's like everyone immediately evacuates their houses at the first sign of sun, and spreads out all over grass and parks and outdoor bars and cafes and just takes it all in. We've been following suit, and it's been phenomenal.

It's a rough life when your afternoon activity consists of French beer and people-watching for hours at an outdoor table on Ashton Lane. No worries, there's still the weight of tens of thousands of words to be written by August hanging over my head!

I might be on the other side of the pond, but that doesn't mean I stop being American, which includes making my bracket picks. I was really excited last night, because I was 12-for-16, which for me in the opening round is fantastic! And then I looked at the standings for my group and saw that I'm sitting at the very bottom. It's just a point of self-pride, I guess.

My first weekend back in the States will be spent out in Ohio, not only doing the family thing, but also fitting in a Blue Jackets game. It's been almost a calendar year since I saw live hockey. So Jackets-Hawks is going to be phenomenal.

The Tale of the Magical Blooming Cactus

Gabriella left yesterday, on the morning flight from Glasgow to Newark, which is also the only non-stop flight between Glasgow and the States during the winter. The price you pay for the convenience of not having to transit through Heathrow is a 4:15am alarm, because the taxi has to arrive at 5:30am since the flight is at 8am. So for the past day and a half, I've been a bit groggy, even though me myself did not go anywhere except downstairs to give her a hug and kiss before putting her in the cab. 4:15am is 4:15am.

It was an uneventful week, with the daily schedule going something like this: eating, drinking, eating, shopping, eating, drinking, drinking, eating, drinking. I now feel incredibly well versed in the Glasgow restaurant scene, having now dined at standouts like Mother India Cafe, The Left Bank, and the previously mentioned Two Fat Ladies, all of which I'll be thrilled to accompany people to when they visit me here in Glasgow (provided you pick up the check; I'm a poor student after all!).

But maybe the most impressive thing we did (in between all the eating and drinking) was a trip to the Glasgow Botanical Gardens. I really, really, really wanted to go this week, because word on the street is that one of the Gardens' rare cacti was blooming -- the first time it's bloomed in twenty years -- and it has a very short bloom-life. So off we headed to check out the Puya alpestris, a Chilean plant that's just incredible.

And see it we did, along with other items of planty goodness and the rest of our Saturday in Glasgow.

All right, Mr. DeMille, Puya is ready for its close-up. These flowers are only seen once every TWENTY YEARS, and for a very brief time period of a few weeks.

Another of the Puya.

Gabriella attempting to bite the cactus that is used to make tequila.

A very cool plant. I have no idea what it is, other than pretty.

Pretty.

Prettier.

Modest Mouse-inspired street art near St. George's Cross.

Gabriella in a quintessential Glasgow shot: Irn Bru on a windy day on the walkway over the M8.

Looking west from Garnethill. In the distance, you can see the spires of the Main Building of the university.

Me and Gabriella, all cleaned up and out on the town.

It was a quick visit -- just a week -- but it was good to have her here. A week with my baby sister is better than a week without. And then in three weeks, I'll be back in the States, so it wasn't a tearful goodbye, like they normally are. Last time, we were both crying fools outside of hallway to security at Glasgow International. We were those people. So this time was a bit better.

I'm also realizing that the excessive amount of plant pictures are borderline old-ladyish. At least I didn't post all the plant pictures I took. And at least they weren't pictures of cats.

That's amore!

I'm pretty thrilled because Gabriella landed yesterday for an entire week here in Glasgow. It's her Spring Break, and so I get her for the next seven days. What this translates to is lots of afternoons spent holed up in pubs, lots of meals out at restaurants I've been dying to try. Yesterday was nothing new for me, as we first cozied up in The Left Bank for late-afternoon snacks and drinks, before making our way over to Byres Road (I was out of cash) and popping into Common Rooms to escape the downpour, grab another drink, and most importantly, try to figure out dinner.

Glasgow, especially over here in the West End, in filled with restaurants and cafes. They might not all (or none, I think) have Michelin stars, but it's definitely an area with good food. And last night, I was jonesing for Italian, of which there's a ton here in the West End. So we swing by all the major players on Byres Road, Paperino's, the new one Sputini, take a look at Prego, which recently opened on Dumbarton, and finally head into Lamora on Argyle, where a waitress gives a no-room-at-the-inn speech and a look that says, "You fools, who doesn't book ahead for our amazing restaurant on a Saturday night?" And the thing is, I'm actually kind of okay with the snub. The problem with all of the aforementioned Italian spots within a mile of my apartment, is that they all seem rather generic and unimaginative. They all have hip decor, cool lighting, and interestingly-shaped plates, but their menus are all so limited. We're talking five or six pasta choices, one or two meats. And very standard fare. Bolognese, cabonara, etc. Nothing that really got me excited for ITALIAN FOOD.

Our last resort was Villa Toscana, a little Italian place that's across from Tesco and SPAR on Argyle Street. I pass it every day. I've always said, "I should try it!" but never have. Last night, in the pouring rain and howling winds that render umbrellas useless, we popped in. And the second we did, I knew it was a good choice. This was an ITALIAN RESTAURANT. It wasn't a hip and trendy restaurant that served Italian food. It wasn't hip or trendy at all. But it was warm and inviting, the (Italian) owner was friendly and welcoming, and the food. The food! It was exactly what I wanted, a real Italiany Italian restaurant, with a menu full of pages of pasta and risottos and pizzas. It reminded me so much of my favorite Italian (and maybe just favorite) restaurant in Bethesda: The Pines of Rome. Just GOOD FOOD in a clean setting. With no funky wall decor or mood lighting necessary. Sometimes, you want a hip, trendy spot. Sometimes, you just want a good bowl of pasta. And we got that here. Gabriella had a spinach tortellini that was clearly homemade and fresh; I had a seafood risotto that was full of king prawns (the size of a computer mouse, no lie), fresh mussels, and squid. For two of us to get out of a restaurant on a Saturday night with great food and wine for under £40 is pretty impressive.

Two very enthusiastic thumbs up. I am really excited to have finally tried it.

Next up on our culinary tour of Glasgow: Two Fat Ladies, one of the city's top seafood restaurants.

This is my kind of spring break!

In like a lion.

Currently, it is -1° and (ever so lightly) snowing. My poor crocuses. I'm ready for some new weather, please.

There are only two weeks of teaching left in the term (didn't it just start?), which also means that there are only two weeks of teaching left in the whole of my Master's program. It is slightly overwhelming. After March 16th, it's just independent work time, and I have from March 16 - August 11 to churn out 25,000 words of a creative dissertation.

However, that creative dissertation won't get written next week; Gabriella lands here in Glasgow on Saturday morning! Which means next week will be filled with pubs and cafes and walks and lots and lots of cooking, and probably not so much with close readings of Kundera. Which is fine by me.

If can't find black spaghetti though, a huge kink will be thrown into my cooking plans.

I'm getting entirely too big a kick out of following Ryan Seacrest on my Twitter.

Just about a month now until I'm home. Mark your calendars: April 3 - 19.

Say cheese, Glasgow.

It was a nice day yesterday. Nice is a Glaswegian word for "not raining." Because it was "nice," I took the opportunity to go for a long walk with my friends Beyonce, Kelly Clarkson, and Jennifer Hudson. I also brought my camera.

As always, clicking on the image will bring it into its full, high-res glory.

The Islay, our pub on the corner. A good, friendly, cheap place, just stumbling distance from the flat.

My local coffee shop (Beanscene) and chippy (Cafe Orlando).

No one in Scotland seems to understand the function of the apostrophe. Cafe Orlando is no exception. Another Cafe Orlando fun fact: in true weegie style, they offer to deep fry everything, from Mars bars to pizzas.

Glasgow has a basketball team! Perhaps I'll start going to games to fill the void left by not being able to watch the NCAA tournament.

Spring is almost here! Crocuses on the lawn of the Kelvingrove!

Scots are never deterred by weather. You can sit outside at a cafe all winter when they provide blankets.

Naughty litter in the West End.

I am well aware that my campus is beautiful.

Gibson Street, another great West End drag filled with cafes and bars and restaurants. The Left Bank has quickly become one of my favorite spots.

If I could find a souvenir

Just to prove the world was here...

You've gotta love the big advertisement for premium imports...

Sadly, this is not a place to find cheesesteaks, Tastykake, scrapple, water ice, or Yuengling. It is just another Glasgow take-away that has a bad case of apostrophe-itis.

High five!

A look down Great Western Road, one of the main arteries of the West End. Stay on Great Western Road headed west, and it will take you all the way up to Fort William and the Highlands.

Even traffic signs are polite.

Fooled you! This is not another picture of a church. It is Oran Mor, which was a church, but is now a bar and nightclub. While last call at pubs and bars is midnight here, Oran Mor is open until 3am, so on a Friday or Saturday night at 12:30am, it feels like the entire West End is there.

Parked across the street from Oran Mor, at the intersection of Byres and Great Western Road, the Maggie is a late-night West End institution for all things unhealthy and stomach-coating. Their crown jewel is the Scoobie Snack: a burger, bacon, sausage, cheese, a fried egg, and a potato scone on a roll. I never have (and hopefully never will) consumed one, but I'm always in awe of the people who do. And pity their arteries. Though nothing hits the spot like Maggie's chips and cheese with brown sauce after a night on the tiles. Proof once again that no matter the country, a food truck is always the way to go.

And thus concludes your March 2009 Glasgow Photo Tour.