Sunny Glasgow

I'd been to Glasgow once before, during my month of travel around Great Britain during my spring break. Having just left the misty low mountains of the Lake District, I found myself in a grey, rainy, utterly boring city, entirely devoid of culture. It didn't help when I arrived and got into a taxi for the short trip to the hostel and the taxidriver said in a thick Glasweigan accent: 'Glasgow? Why'd you come here?' It took a few seconds for me to understand her, but once I did it may have coloured the rest of my time there. All one day of it. I couldn't wait to get out of the lifeless pit, with nothing in it to see but rain and a National Bagpipes Museum. The only distinct memory I took with me was captured in a photo I took that symbolised Glasgow: an equestrian statute in St. George's Square with an orange construction cone stuck on its head.

The cone is still there.

But this time it seemed as if the city leaders had left the cone perched at a jaunty angle on the statue out of whimsy. Yes indeed, my view of Glasgow has changed.

Maybe it was the weather: it was sunny the entire time; or maybe it was the company: I was visiting my friends Allison and Ben. But either way, I found Glasgow to be delightful, and a refreshingly cosmopolitan change from Cambridge and Canterbury. It has all the hustle and bustle a body could want, with a nice big high street and cute neighbourhoods, parks and trees dotting the hills.

My journey to Glasgow took forever: I arose at 4 a.m. on Saturday, took a taxi to Liverpool Station, the Stansted Express to the airport, and flew RyanAir on the 50-minute journey to Glasgow. Then a train to the city centre and another short journey to Allison's neighbourhood, and I was there, six hours later. Somehow I survived on two hours' sleep and stayed awake until 1.30 a.m. Saturday night!

As I exited the airport I gasped, for a short distance away grey waves crashed on a shore, and low, mist-shrouded mountains brooded on the other side of a channel. I had no idea the airport was so far south of the city, or that Glasgow was so near the sea. I found out I was looking upon the Isle of Arran, across the Firth of Clyde. Yes, that Isle of Arran, where the sweaters come from. Sigh--I love the U.K. You're never far away from somewhere something happened.

Case in point: Glasgow Uni, where Ben is getting his Master's degree in American Studies. But first a bit of explanation about the two: Allison was my closest American friend when I studied abroad in Wales, and started dating Ben (the old flatmate of one of her flatmates, Nick) while at Swansea. Ben's from Yorkshire, Allison's from New Orleans--and somehow they've made a cross-continental romance work for almost two years now. It helps that Ben loves the U.S. (he studied in Wisconsin) and that Allison loves the U.K.--and it also helps that Allison was able to get an engineering job in Glasgow, where, as I said, Ben is getting his Master's. Wherever they end up, be it the States or Scotland, Allison will be able to get a job as an engineer; and Ben hopes to become a professor one day. Are we all picturing smart babies, cuz I sure am!

Anyway, first stop was the University of Glasgow, which I was expecting to be one of those 1960s monstrosities that popped up all over the U.K. Instead, I was astounded to see the nickname 'Hogwarts,' as Ben put it, to be entirely justified. The open courtyards, towers, turrets, and columns rival that of Oxford or Cambridge. Then it was across the street to the Mackintosh House, a reconstruction of Charles Rennie Mackintosh's house from 1906--1914. I fell in love with the colours of the drawing room and bedroom--white with mauve and magenta accents. Mmmmm.... We rounded off our Mackintosh education with lunch in one of the famous Willow Tea Rooms scattered throughout the city, with tall chair backs making it seem as if we were in a forest. Then it was off for the cathedral. I didn't even know there was a cathedral in Glasgow, and certainly not one surrounded with a creepy, but fascinating, necropolis. As you know, I've been in many cathedrals, and this one was very nice--stuck out in my mind for the candelabras used in the crypt, which added an air of antiquity.

After relaxing a bit, we got dressed to the nines: Allison in pleather pants, me in a new satin skirt, Ben in a striped jumper and pink checked shirt (oh-so-English!) and hit up a fabulous Indian for dinner. The waiter recognised me as a former customer--instead of Allison and Ben, who've been there multiple times! We continued the evening with drinks a four different pubs, and drunk dialled Allison and Ben's old flatmate. He still hasn't texted me back...I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing!

After sleeping in, we had a full Scottish breakfast that lasted the rest of the day. I'd had full English, Welsh and Irish breakfasts, but Scottish breakfasts put them to shame: the usual toast replaced with rolls, with an egg, black pudding (read: blood sausage), a second kind of black pudding, Lorne sausage, mushrooms, and a flat potato pancake.

Fortified for at least the next few hours, we walked around the Botanical Gardens before heading home to get my stuff, and it was time to make the long journey home. Rarely have I seen a prettier sight than when we flew over Birmingham at night, the twinkling, sparkling lights not so far below.


So in conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, I highly recommend going to Glasgow on a crisp autumn weekend with friends. And failing that, if you've ever been before and been disappointed, I recommend giving it a second chance. Feel free to follow my itinerary as a guide to what to see.

Theresa