Visiting Hogwarts, Emoting to A Piper and Fusion Haggis

I have just three more days left in Scotland, and I'm starting to have to make some tough choices about what I can and can't do in my last few days. For example I was going to try to go to Rowallan Castle, the ancestral home of the Moore family (maternal grandfather's side), but decided not to so I could save a little bit of money and time and also get to Edinburgh before dark on Thursday.

Wednesday got started off as all my mornings here have so far - by getting up before 5:30. I re-packed my bag, made sure I had all my chargers and that the bunny hadn't eaten any important documents. Then ate as much of my grocery food as I could for breakfast (not wanting to pack it with me later) and left with Markee at about 9:00.

Markee works at the University of Glasgow in one of the bookshops in one of the newer buildings. From a distance I could see the tower spire in true Gothic style and as we got closer, more and more of the campus was revealed. The main plaza is two lawns surrounded by the main building, connected by a colonnade between them.

The architecture was lovely, and looking the part by default, I let myself into several of the buildings to poke around.  Students had to navigate around me on the stairwells while I stopped to take pictures out stained glass windows. I'm glad I don't go to school there, I would never get anything done. Markee said it was difficult for her trying to take a final in a room that looked like the Great Hall from Harry Potter. Very distracting!

I hadn't slept well the night before and found my usual stores of energy waning before even midday. I was tired but worried about missing something like this:

The University of Glasgow is home to the Hunterian Museum. Most of the exhibits are the collection of a physician/ anatomist from Glasgow who had a lot of money and connections because his collection was extremely extensive. And if it was collected today in a private residence, probably would be illegal.  

There were specimens in there ranging from extremely rare minerals and fossils to entire dinosaur skeletons, to stuffed endangered/extinct animals, and to top it all off, a mummy, sarcophagus included. The top floor also had some instruments from Lord Kelvin's lab, but also some pickled body parts that made me a bit queasy. 

That's a dinosaur in the middle there.

I left the University around 11:30, and took the shortcut Markee had showed me to the Botanical Gardens. They were pretty standard gardens, though extensive in their climate areas. And it was nice to be somewhere that felt like the tropics for a little while.

Back at the apartment I finished packing my things, did my dishes and tidied up the room I had been sleeping in, then wandered around for a little while unsure of my next move. I realized I was stalling when I caught myself trying to perfectly fold my unused sheets and pillowcase. I was excited to go to Edinburgh for sure, and I had really seen Glasgow, as much as you can in three days. But I didn't want to leave this place where Markee and Carrie had made me feel so at home. I had people there who did care about me, someone I could call if there was an emergency and was a wealth of knowledge should I have any questions about where to shop, eat or what neighborhoods to avoid. Also, a cat that truthfully loved me only on the condition that I let her sleep on my chest. Leaving Glasgow meant I was really on my own.

After a short pep talk that I'll spare you the details of I petted the cats goodbye and left the flat for Queen Street Station. 

I emerged from the subway with a crowd of busy Glaswegians and was walking toward the train station when a high pitched tune wafted over cacophony of traffic to my ears. I stopped dead, causing a woman in a suit run into my giant turtle backpack. I turned around, and headed in the other direction without a second thought, following the sound.

Believe me, I have been made fun of for this and yes I guess it's weird or whatever. Naysayers think it's because I want to be "real" Scottish so badly I'll hang onto any cliche I can and even attempt to make myself love the unlovable but listen to me when I say this because I am very serious right now.

I. LOVE. BAGPIPES.

I just do. I like the big marching bands with their pomp and circumstance, I like the lone piper playing long, sad melodies, but in particular I like the smaller bands, with several drums pushing a quick rhythm and a piper adding melody-and that's what I was hearing coming from Buchanan street.

Sorry it's shaky. I kept getting run into.

These guys made awesome music, and besides that they look freaking cool! I stood and listened to them for a few minutes or as long as my bag would allow me to. And to my surprise as well I'm sure to the people around me I started getting misty eyed. I was thinking about my family going to the Highland Games every year and how we always go to the massing of the bands and I get upset every year when they release a hundred balloons at the end of it. And then mom calms me down by reminding me that they are bio-degradable and dad just smiles away but always gets too hot in his kilt and wool socks. Dad and I eat Cornish Pies from a stand and then we all go watch the games together. 

There, surrounded by masses of shopping Glaswegians, laden down by fifty pounds of gear and running on about five hours of sleep I had my first real pang of homesickness and yes friends - I did start crying in the middle of Buchanan street. 

I didn't want to just sit down to get tissues out of my bag, and also I was (unsuccessfully) trying to pretend I wasn't crying in pubic. It was only when I remembered my friends April and Peter's voices from a conversation we had a few weeks ago that was I able to compose myself. 

"Have you ever just started crying on the bus?"

"Yes!"

"But not like, serene, eye dabbing crying. But full face, mascara running, bawling in a public place with people awkwardly looking away because they are on a bus and can't escape."

"Ugly crying, yep, I've done it."

"No shame girl, no shame, you gotta cry? Just cry."

"Preach."

Remembering this exchange made me laugh, so then I was the crazy laughing/crying/giant backpack girl taking up too much room on Buchanan street while the musicians played away. I wiped my eyes, abandoning all pretense that I hadn't been sobbing, stopped crying and headed for the train station.

Waverly Train Station in Edinburgh is the biggest mess I have ever had the misfortune to travel into. With the multiple levels, constant construction and re-routes it took me over ten minutes just to find the escalator out of the dang place. But on the other side of the escalator Edinburgh was waiting. 

The city is similar to Glasgow in that it's mostly made the same light brown/yellow stone with some turning grey or black. But here I guess the buildings are washed more often, or the constant wind blows away pollution because the buildings, though worn look very clean. The train station opens up to the dramatic scene that is Princes street. As far as I can tell Edinburgh doesn't have a subway so all the public transportation is caught up in double-decker buses and it seems like all of them go down Princes street. Edinburgh is hillier than Glasgow, so various important sites seem to rise out of the city with an exclamation point on top. Like the Castle and Calton hill. Because off the terrain one can stand in one spot and see multiple levels and layers of the city at once and that texture is very beautiful.

Edinburgh feels bigger than Glasgow, I think maybe because you can see more of it at once because of the hills and also because it's built on a bigger scale. Almost every building is at least three stories high and they are row style so the streets feel like they go on forever. 

I stopped at a visitor info booth, grabbed a map, directions and after two wrong stops found the right bus to my hotel.

My hotel is lovely. Small, and simple, my room is about the size of a large walk-in closet, but really, that's all I need. It's less space to lose stuff in and completely comfortable for one person. Even having a visitor would be a little crampt, but for one- it's perfect.

I bussed out to meet a professor of mine and his family for dinner at a close-by village. We went to a very nice little restaurant with all kinds of delicious looking things on the menu. But I saw haggis, and hey. I'm in Scotland. 

It came as part of my appetizer and to be honest it wasn't exactly traditional haggis. It was a haggis....spring roll. All the ingredients of traditional haggis were there but in a delicious crunchy pastry. And it was very, very good, the meat inside was flavorful and creamy textured, not what I was expecting but I went with it. And yes, it does count as real haggis, I asked all the Scots at the table before I ordered and they agreed. 

That one is checked off the bucket list.

Plane, Plane, Bus, Train, Glasgow!

So it begins!

Saturday was my sister’s wedding day.  It was wonderful and beautiful and everyone cried a bunch. It was amazing to see the accumulation of all the work we have done over the last few months come together in one day of spectacular celebration. Once the rings were exchanged, the toasts were given and the dances were danced the evening started to wind down and the realness of my next hurdle started to hit me. For the last few weeks the wedding has been the primary focus, and leaving was just something I was going to do after the wedding. But now the wedding was over, the reception was coming to a close and people were making plans for the morning. But I wasn’t going to get to go to brunch the next day, by the time most everyone else would be waking up I would already be somewhere over Minnesota.

I got home and finished packing my bag, all put together it weighs about 43 pounds including clothing, drafting materials and tools in a duffle strapped to the bottom (fingers crossed that both pieces make it all the way through!) I didn’t think it was all going to fit but as you can see below…

To

Awe, yeah.

In the morning I woke up with a sour stomach (not from the reception, but nerves) drank some tea and started chewing peppermint gum, a trick I learned from my mechanic a couple of days ago.  If you don’t have antacids it’ll help calm an upset stomach.

Paul and I drove to the airport at 7:15am and it wasn’t until we turned off I-5 to the airport and saw all the signs for it that this finally felt real. I was going to the airport to fly away across the world. We met my parents at the United counter and I had the fastest check-in process ever and the security lines were short enough we had time for a coffee together. But soon, the time came, there was much hugging and crying and I’m going to start again if I don’t stop there.

Once my family was out of sight I was venturing deep into TSA territory, I had an interesting mix of emotions; sadness, loneliness and also a stalwart sense of independence. From this point on I will be the only person in a decent radius that cares about me, my well-being or itinerary, very far away from my wonderful support system.. It’s  a scary, yet invigorating feeling.

When I entered security I saw how much it has changed since I last flew in 2010. For those of you who don’t know, they replaced the doorway-style metal detectors with giant rectangular panels that flank you, then you turn, put your arms up in the “Hands above your head, dirt bag!” style and just wait for what I assume is a detailed picture of all your organs, bones and potentially concealed nail clippers. I heard one baggage x-ray operator exclaim very loudly to another agent

“We gotta 316 over here.” He said, “A big fat water bottle in this suitcase.” The same way a cop might say:

“We gotta big fat kilo of cocaine over here.” Or “He’s smuggling a small child in his laptop case.”  Or “We gotta flock of endangered Himalayan Parakeets.”  Utmost knowledge that the guy did something so obviously illegal and how dare he be stupid enough to bring his own hydration into hydrophobic TSA country.

I found that on the plane everyone had their own screen set in the seat ahead of them, but you have to pay for TV service. Though the welcome video still teaches you how to connect your seatbelt. At least some things never change. I ended up buying the service since it was a five hour flight and I forgot my laptop cable at home.

On the plane from Newark to Edinburgh I made friends with the older lady in the seat next to me. She gave me all kinds of good advice about getting to and from Glasgow by bus and train.

When we landed I said goodbye to my friend and walked outside into the drizzle and grey skies to the little building marked “BUS TICKETS – Edinburgh, Glasgow, London” and asked how I could get to Queen Street in Glasgow. “This bus to Haymarket then the train to Queen Street.” The man said.

At first glance, Scotland looked and felt a lot like home. Lush green lawns, and a stand of trees across from the road. It wasn't so different, not really. But I loved hearing the accents around me, the first real reminder of how far away from home I really was.

I went up to the 2^nd floor of the bus, because, really, I’m in Great Britain and immediately my backpack proved itself extremely awkward and cumbersome. It’s simply too heavy for me to comfortably pack around, a reality I was worried about but I was specifically told not to bring a rolling suitcase. Plus I had my carry on- a regular sized backpack that weighs about 13 pounds because of my laptop.

When I boarded in Seattle I didn’t have a concrete plan of how I was going to get to Glasgow from the Edinburgh Airport. This is a very big deal because I always have a plan and when things don’t go perfectly I sometimes freak out. But I’ve realized that the “I’m just going to wing it” plan will work but it really helps to do it in a place where you speak the language. I asked for directions to the train in Haymarket at least 5 times because of the massive street construction going on there. Everyone I talked to was more than willing to give me detailed directions.

The train from Edinburgh to Glasgow only took about 45 minutes through beautiful countryside and before I knew it I was standing in Queen Street Station at 11:30am. I admit though, here I paused and walked back and forth between exits unsure of what to do. The city was alive, noisy and mobile through the gatelike doors of the train station, my adventure was waiting for me, but still I hesitated. 
I knew I had to get a phone, I had to call Markee, the friend I was going to stay with and tell her I had arrived and where I was. Most importantly I had to find Wi-Fi and tell my friends and family that I was ok. Also, I had to do this in as few steps as possible because I’m not strong enough to carry my backpacks very long.

The city center of Glasgow was bustling at noon on a weekday; well-dressed people with umbrellas navigated around traffic, bikes and each other seamlessly, usually ignoring “do not walk” signs while an almost constant drizzle fell. George’s Square gave me my first real look at Glaswegian architecture. It’s mostly all stone that I believe at one point was a light brownish yellow but has all turned black and grey via pollution and time. The older buildings in city center almost all have beautiful detailing that engages passers and invites them to pay more attention to their surroundings. Many of the buildings have Roman columns, statues, and engravings into the stone but have a more solid feel to them than many buildings that use that kind of style. Elegant but practical in shades of grey.

Modern Art Museum

On the other side of the square I found a tourist information/gift shop and got directions to Argyle Street just a few more blocks south where I could get a phone. Sure enough there was such a store and I was able to get a phone, SIM card and ten pounds worth of calling/texting for 20 pounds. I’m glad the sales guy activated it for me because he kept asking me questions and I kept having no idea what he was saying. Scotland is a small country, but there are a ton of accents  and some sound like a different language. I heard one that left out the letter “T” all ‘oogether and i’ made i’ really hard oo underand.

The girl at the phone store told me that the nearest free wifi was at McDonalds down the street and she didn’t know of any other place that had it. Once my phone was activated I weighed my options and begrudgingly I headed in that direction. McDonalds was NOT the place I wanted to start my trip. In my opinion it is probably the worst American franchise to take over the planet. Sorry for the obesity and diabetes guys, our bad.

In the oddly chic fast food joint sipping on a child size coke I got Markee’s phone number out of my email and put it into my new little phone and sent her a text. While waiting for a response I re-attached my tool bag to my backpack and noticed I was getting dirty looks from the Micky-D’s staff. Even in a place as used to travelers as Glasgow I still looked like a hobo mooching off the free Wi-Fi (which I was) and re-packing a gigantic bag in the corner didn’t look the best.

By then it was almost one, when Markee was supposed to get off work and come find me. I wasn’t sure how long I had been up but I could start to feel the exhaustion creeping in and affecting my mood and thought process. I was cold, it was raining, I felt vulnerable because of my bag, I was tired and I couldn’t just find a nice bench to sit on because of the rain. So yes, friends, I found another great American franchise in which to take refuge. Starbucks. Where I almost fell asleep with my grande hot chocolate with whip. (The Starbucks staff were much nicer and accomidating. Especially when they learned I am actually FROM Seattle.)

My directions magically worked! Markee came and found me. Half an hour, a subway ride and a short walk later I had tea in hand in her living room on Paisley street.

All is well.

Things I learned today/ Questions I still have

-Is smiling at strangers just a west coast thing? I smile at most people I make eye contact with and I think I wierded out a few people in the New Jersey airport..  But luckily people waiting at the gate with me were happy enough to smile back. I think I’m going to the right place.

-Shillings don’t exist anymore; it’s just pounds and cents or “pence.” They will laugh at you if you ask about this...

-What the heck is with this country and surveillance??? Everywhere, absolutely everywhere is on camera all the time. You cannot get away from it in the city at all. 

-British pounds are a beautiful currency but extremely easy to overspend. A pound is about $1.60, so you see a sandwich for 4.99 and it's not $5 bucks, it's on the upper side of $8