The Feast for the Senses: Venice

Thursday night it was difficult to sleep.

It felt like Christmas Eve and all I could do was sit up and wait for Santa to arrive and deliver me an amazing gift. Venice.

I've never been, all I knew was what I had seen in romantic movies and read in historic novels. It is supposed to be one of the most amazing cities in Europe and the world. No streets but canals, pigeons, architecture, gelato, gondolas, singing men in striped shirts. I was ready for all of it.
But the week before departure I was a bit nervous about going because of news stories like this one. Venice was under water. A lot of water. The storms we had here in Rab were just as bad over there and people were swimming their way through San Marco's Square. I didn't care though. Venice was calling and come hell or (literally) high water I was going to go.

Friday morning I met the Catamaran along with a lot of people in the program. It was our first and only three day free weekend and everyone was taking as much advantage of it as possible A whole van full of people left Thursday night to go to Ljubljana (pronounced Loobliana) the capital of Slovenia, three on the Catamaran were renting a car and heading to Serejevo in Bosnia, an ambitious nine hour drive away.  Two were on their way to Trieste, just inside Italy.

Once in Rijeka I had some in-between travel time and spent an hour looking around downtown Rijeka, the outdoor market was on and bustling. Veggies and fruits, sweet and spicy smells, it was a very nice way to start the day.

My travel partner and I rented a car as the fastest way to get there and soon we were zooming through Croatia, then into the EU in Slovenia, and not long after that into Italy. The scenery was beautiful, Slovenia had more of my beloved forests and mountains but by the time we were into Italy it was mostly flat farm land outside of Venice.

The hotel was in Mestre, it was cheaper to stay, had free parking and is also less than a 15 minute train ride from Venice. My hotel room for some reason had four beds, two singles and two more singles pushed together to create a double bed. Besides the overkill on sleeping spaces the bathroom had a tub! A real, beautiful deep bathtub, already I was in love with Italy.

It was almost dark by the time we hopped onto a train to Venice; the cool afternoon turned into a clear cold night very quickly and when we came out of the train station Venice was lit up, sparkling, not under water, and ever so inviting.

We walked through the open square and across Grand Canal on the first bridge. And after that got immediately lost. Venice is all twisting tiny pedestrian streets, odd angles, courtyards, plazas and canals that force you to pick a direction. And that is awesome. Not so great if you are actually trying to get somewhere but for a night of truly wonderful wandering, Venice is the place to do it. Around every corner is some perfect new detail, a paving pattern, a tree, a set of windows or a color of yellow on a building you've never seen before. Every detail is thought out and elegantly put together. Even in parts where walls are crumbling into the canals they do it artistically. It seems like ugliness simply isn't allowed, someone could try to make a gross splatter on the wall and it would turn into the Mona Lisa. Even the graffiti was lovely.

We made it our goal to get to San Marco's Square, the biggest in Venice. It took a long time, a lot of walking, getting lost, going back a new way, getting lost there, stopping for pictures etc. Slowly we made our way in the general direction of the square and under one more lovely columned walk we emerged into San Marco's. 

By then it was after ten and there weren't very many people, but a few such as ourselves strolled through the square to the water, the basilica and back. We followed our ears to a very fancy cafe with a very fancy piano and violin duet playing very romantic songs and there we sat and drank very expensive hot chocolates that were very amazing. I sat in the cool night and warm light from lamps listening to a perfect rendition of "The Girl from Ipanema", from a violinist who was a performance all by himself. Drinking a steaming cup of what tasted like a melted chocolate bar with cream. Every sense was engaged and lulled by the best of everything all at once.

the 10 euro cocoa

That feeling only got stronger the next day. Venice feels different between in the light and dark. During the day it vibrates with energy and people. The details we discovered the night before on buildings as little secrets now became shining bold statements. With more people out the canals were alive with taxis, little personal boats and yes, gondolas ferrying people willing to pay the 50 euro fee around in style. 

By way of getting lost we found the more residential end of Venice. The place where I think people actually live. We watched a woman open the gates to her garden right on a canal and use a crank to back her boat from the garden into the canal, then lock the gates and drive away. Just like parallel parking a car - Venetian style. At that end it was less about grandeur, less over the top and more subtly amazing.

The day was spent wandering, ducking into cafes, snacking, drinking coffee, walking some more, sketching, eating more, walking more etc. In other words, exactly what I wanted to do.

I enjoyed the people watching in particular. There were of course, a ton of tourists, and a ton of people catering to tourists. But the interactions were bigger and louder and somehow much more fun than I'm used to. There was also a lot of PDA (public displays of affection) which I have never minded. I like being reminded that there are happy people in love all over the world.

I also very much enjoyed the mix of languages, everything from German, to Japanese, English, Dutch, Spanish and Italian in a variety of accents all mixed together in this throng of humanity moving through the city. Especially in places like San Marco's where huge numbers of people congregate (two wedding parties arrived while we were there) there is a low hum of all the conversation happening at once.

Towards the end of the afternoon we went to the Biennale Architecture Exhibition. A lot of countries from all over the world each choose an architecture group to build an exhibit based on a theme. This year the theme was "Common Ground" and the exhibits were really something to see. Some made complete sense and were full of very useful information, some were inspiring and moving, and others were just odd (ahem, Spain). 

Taiwan: cardboard and plastic.

My favorite was Finland, with a bunch of small, interactive simple pieces, that I of course forgot to take pictures of because I was enjoying them so much.

Russia's exhibit. Querty keys and Ipads.

----

Venice is, among many other things, exhausting. Trying to fit everything into two days is impossible, unfortunately, but it's not like I didn't try. By the evening I was sore, tired and hungry for a big meal. As much as I wanted to stay in Venice until the very last second I had to rest and recoup for awhile. A nap for a few hours back in Mestre was just what was needed but upon awakening food was imperative. 

Everyone at the hotel told us to go to a nearby restaurant called  "Bepi." In the window there was a case full of fresh fish on ice and the dining room smelled like cooking fish. Upon sitting down a very big, loud man with a gigantic mustache came over, speaking first in Italian, then switching seamlessly to Spanish to talk to my friend. After their conversation he looked down at me over his reading glasses attached with a chain and said-

"And I'm guessing you would like English." In a mildly patronizing way. 

Yes. I, the white girl with the confused expression trying to translate as fast as possible, but really not following this interaction... would like English. He was teasing, and hilarious and once again fabulously over the top. He told us all about his travels in the Americas and the languages he speaks, how he learned them and why. Then told us roughly what food and wine we wanted and disappeared to the kitchen.

 The food he brought was spectacular. What I had come to expect from Italy. I was presented with a seafood pasta with perfect al dente noodles and fresh mussels, clams, squid and a few other delights and a smooth red wine. And when neither of us could possibly eat anymore he brought a huge platter at least two feet long with five different kinds of fish. I looked at it and almost cried I was so full and it looked so good.

 But slowly, to keep from exploding we ate pieces of the fresh fish grilled to perfection. The meal was long, and we didn't waste a minute. After a final coffee we strolled out at midnight.

The next day I reluctantly said goodbye to Italy. And we left in the morning in order to catch the Catamaran back to Rab in the afternoon. I didn't want to go, wasn't ready at all. I hadn't seen enough, heard enough, smelled, touched or tasted nearly enough of Italy to consider myself ready to leave. I loved how friendly the people were and wanted to get to know them.  I'm not done with Italy.

So where the heck is Caitlin now? Dreaming of gelato and coffee in a not so far away place, canals and bridges and San Marco's in the moonlight. Buonanotte, amico mio.

Climbing Edinburgh, Adventures in Scottish Weather, and Remembering Why I'm Here

Friday morning I ate the offered breakfast from my hotel and was amazed by how wonderful the service was for only six pounds. Firstly, breakfast is in the dining room, and it's a legitimate dining room, with a gilt mirror and white linens. There is a bar set up in the middle of the room with cereals and jam on multi-level tea trays and pitchers of milk and orange juice. Then if you get the continental breakfast they'll bring you a pot of tea, toast and a plate of cheese, oatcakes and fruit. And they even have all the proper cutlery.
I got very excited  about this. I had a solid and elegant start to the day that I wasn't expecting. I lingered over my second cup of tea and sketched the mirror frame for twenty minutes or so to settle myself and think about what I wanted to do that day.

Edinburgh has a lot of attractions and tours, it's much, MUCH more touristy than Glasgow. But because it is they have good systems in place for supporting travelers such as myself like the tourist info center that I got a map and very accurate directions from when I first arrived. I knew I wanted to check out the royal mile, and some of the museums along there, and maybe head down to Hollyrood Palace at the end of the street. Also when I arrived I saw some beautiful towers and Parthenon style buildings up on an eastern hill that I wanted to explore and maybe visit a few cathedrals.

I wrapped up my last couple pieces of toast, butter, and cheese from breakfast and put them in my purse. Then at the last minute grabbed my raincoat just in case, but the sun was shining and I wasn't worried.

I took the number 8 bus to Princes Street and headed across the North Bridge to where it meets High Street. Or, the Royal Mile.

The Royal Mile is the oldest street in Edinburgh, it connects Edinburgh Castle, the oldest structure in Edinburgh to the town that formed down below it, all the way to Hollyrood Palace at the bottom, where Mary, Queen of Scots lived for a portion of her life and it's also the Queen's residence when in Edinburgh.
TRM is one, very old, and has many cool narrow alleyways or "closes" jutting off at various angles. They create some intriguing and mysterious spaces.

All along the Royal mile are touristy Kilt and Cashmere shops. Every other shop has mannequins hanging out front with a kilt hanging off it. My beloved bagpipe music pumped out of almost every shop but usually bastardized with some kind of drum-machine beat or techno influence. Needless to say I didn't go into any of them, but just enjoyed the scenery. St Giles' Cathedral came up on my left and I figured I would swing by to take a look.

You'll notice that there is only a picture from the front and none of the interior. And that is because they charge a 2 pound photo taking fee! To take your own photos! Then it's a six pound suggested donation and another three pound suggested donation to go into the popular chapels. The cathedral's only saving grace was that it was very beautiful, and the chapels were stunning, unique and unlike any that I've ever been in but I left with a sour taste in my mouth from it. I understand that everyone has got to make a living, but being asked for money first thing when entering a church was just too much.

Continuing up the Royal Mile with a darkening sky looming above was Edinburgh Castle. The oldest structure in Edinburgh the great stone fortress set on the top of a steep hill, making it very easy to defend. Because it has been such a target for Edinburgh's enemies the castle really is a fortress, with high walls and cannon barrels looking down at passers by. I walked up the road to the entrance and found that to my surprise the entry cost was fifteen pounds, and if you want an audio guide it's an extra four pounds. That's about 30 bucks for those of you keeping track at home. 

Considering all the attractions I visted in Glasgow were free except for one public restroom that cost me 30 pennies this came as quite a shock. But I knew there were museums inside, plus I had heard rumors about the crowned jewels and a very old chapel and before I knew it I had handed over my 19 pounds, received my headset (because if I was going to pay this much to get into a place I at least wanted to understand what I was looking at gosh darnit) and was walking into the castle, wondering all the while if I had made the right choice. 

I was prepared for tourists being up there, as the tourist attraction in Edinburgh, every Scottish tour bus in the country stops and unloads people for a period of time at this edifice. But the weirdest thing to hear were the foreign accents, particularly American, my own. I had gotten so used to the soft rolling syllables of the Scots in Glasgow, extremely pleasing to the ear, I wasn't used to American accents and they sounded clipped, nasal and brash. 

Generally I don't have a problem with tourists, because hey, no matter what I try to tell myself, I am a tourist.   At the moment I'm more of a traveler but I don't have a sense of hierarchy with it. I'm not a local, I don't live here and trying to make people think I do would be as fruitful as painting myself yellow and telling them I'm a banana. I'm spending my time and energy to try to experience and understand the lives of a different culture in the extremely limited amount of time I have.

I'm not pushy, impatient, or irrationally angry at things I don't understand like a lot of American tourists are, but I am still a tourist. I made myself feel better by thinking I could blend into the normal Edinburgh crowd by trying to look as normal as possible and not like I was touring. I.E. no fanny pack, flag t-shirt (American or Scottish), giant swinging camera, or trying to pay with dollars. But there is no reason to be at Edinburgh Castle if you aren't a tourist. Especially when walking around wearing headphones attached to a little ipod like device, there is no way to look cool. But least the headphones doubled as earmuffs as the drizzle started to come down.

The views from up there were nice, though a little hard to see because the walls were crowded with people. I wandered around punching numbers from signs into my headset and received five minute lessons on the history of the castle and battlements, various monarchs and legends of the castle. I followed a tour group around for a bit for the sheer fun of their tour guide who was very into his role and knew more than my hand-held device did. 

I popped into the War Museum dissapointed to find most of the history and artefacts were post 1800 so it was all WWI and WW2 artwork and weapons, no Claymores and Clan history. Considering I'm not very interested in war anyway I walked through at a brisk pace and left the other side quickly. I enjoyed the Crown Jewels exhibit and the story behind the Royal Honors: the Crown, The Scepter and the Sword. Also the Stone of Destiny and it's colorful history as the seat of Scottish Royal Power. I visited the pet cemetery and the little chapel on the site, the oldest building in Edinburgh. And the biggest cannon I've ever seen. 

What do you get a king for a wedding gift? The biggest gun you can find apparently.

The sun had peaked out a few times, but by the time I dissapointedly left the castle it had begun to absolutely pour down rain. I'm realizing the places I'm enjoying the most on this trip are spaces that make me feel something. As a student of Experience Place (your experience in a place and it's effect on good design) the places that I value the most are the ones with unique or special elements that draw forth an emotion because of the spaces created, like the Necropolis or Eglinton Park. I felt like almost all of the experience of place had been smashed out of Edinburgh Castle because of it's long and noble history. All anyone could talk about were dead people, names, dates, events. The space seems to be special only because of what happened there and who lived there, not special on it's own.

It was teeming down rain outside, even with my trusty raincoat I was worried about getting soaked, especially my nice urban walking shoes. Eventually I had to duck into a close for about fifteen minutes to let the worst of it pass.

And that's kind of how it went all the way down the Royal Mile, walking until it started raining too hard then ducking in somewhere to wait it out. One such distraction was the Museum of Edinburgh. That chronicled the city's history along with artifacts to prove their point. The museum was nice, warm and had some good information but was mostly a lot of silver and pottery.

After the museum it was just a short jump to Hollyrood Palace, I saw they were selling tickets and didn't even bother going to look. I had just spent my day's worth of money on something pretty lackluster. But directly to the right of Hollyrood Palace was something that looked out of place. A giant hill, covered in yellow grass and scrubby bushes, followed by a sheer cliff, followed by a stunning high peak behind it. Momentary exploration found that it was Hollyrood Park, what was a designated hunting ground and was now a park in the middle of Edinburgh. The peak at the top was the dormant volcano of Arthur's Seat that formed Edinburgh, which I had heard of but had never seen.

Looking up at the mountain from the ground it seemed impossibly high. But I love hiking and this was probably going to be my only shot while in Scotland. With the sun starting to come out, no water, and wearing my cute urban ballet flat - style shoes I headed off up the trail. 

The noise of Edinburgh fell away quickly up in the hills with the wind blowing. It was a fairly steep climb and the land around the pathway fell away quickly forming wide bowls in the landscape with wind, blown grasses and thistle growing up out of it. 

At points the trail was steep and muddy and I almost slid back a few times. But the funniest part is that Arthur's Seat is apparently the favorite training ground for all of Edinburgh's cross country runners. Tall, impossibly skinny men kept passing me in their tiny little shorts and "Edinburgh Marathon 08'" t-shirts all the way up the mountain. While I on the other hand looked like this:

The higher up I got the stronger the wind became. The last scramble was on the not as windy side of the mountain and it was paved in very very old stones forming an ancient staircase. All I needed was an elf, a dwarf, an exiled prince an I would be set in my adventure.

The volcanic rock at the top is very smooth I went up the last few feet with my hands on the ground to make sure I didn't get blown off or slip. At last I reached the very top. The panoramic 360 degree views were breathtaking of the whole of Edinburgh and beyond. Completely worth the hour long hike. The wind battered against me in different directions so I just stayed up long enough to take in the view then went down to safer altitudes.

I was very proud of myself for reaching the top, after having paid an exorbitant amount a of money to do something I didn't really want to do but felt like I should; I had completed something for free that I probably shouldn't have done in my current state of dress or preparation but I did it because I wanted to. Reaching the top of Arthur's Seat in my flats and nicest pair of pants reminded me that I'm in charge of my experience here. Not everyone else who said I had to go to the castle, or I had to do X, Y and Z to have really seen Edinburgh and Scotland in general. Because even though everyone else is only trying to help they don't know what I want to do as much as I do. I saw Edinburgh in all it's glory up there and it was worth getting mud on my pants when I slipped on the way back down. Now whenever I see Arthur's Seat I can think 'I've been up there' and it will never be something I almost did.

Coming back down to the bottom with my renewed sense of competency I put away the map I had been following and returned to the technique that had served me so well in Glasgow. Following my nose and wandering. With maps so much more readily available in Edinburgh I had been strictly sticking to mine, keeping on track so I could see as much as possible in a short amount of time. But the map had stressed me out more than being lost had. So I put it away. 

By wandering I found myself climbing another hill north of Arthur's Seat and after climbing a winding road I found myself at the top of the other hill I had wanted to visit, which I learned was called Calton Park. The monuments at Calton Park are probably the most highly visible in the entire city. They rise up out of the wooded areas below giving them an ancient and guardian feel. 

I don't remember what this one was for exactly, but it's pretty!

The National Monument

After Calton Hill I was tired and dirty and took a bus back to my hotel. 

That evening I walked across the street to the Botanical Gardens to hear my professor Iain give a talk about a class he teaches at UW about creativity. I haven't taken the class but he uses a lot of the same formatting in his other courses that I have taken. I was honored to be invited and loved getting to meet his family.

At 9:00 I walked back to the Inverleith Hotel and fell asleep before even getting fully undressed. 

Kilwinning, The Earls of Eglinton and Getting to My Roots

Today I visited the town and what was historically the estate of the Montgomery family, one of the branches of my own family tree. It was the main reason I wanted to come to Scotland while I had the chance; to try to make connections to places where my family had come from.

This morning I got up early and actually got to watch the sun come up! By the time I left the flat the clouds were burning off and a beautiful sunny day was gaining momentum. Because of the city's efficient public transportation I was on a train to Kilwinning, a small town about a half hour outside of Glasgow by 9:00.
The train ride was uneventful and I enjoyed watching the scenery go by, most of what I could see from the train was a mix of pasture and scrub/woodland. I liked seeing the white dots that are sheep run around in the distance under the shadows of small clouds.

Soon the train pulled into the station and when I stepped off I was struck by the quiet. After the noise of Seattle, to airplanes, airports, stations and then the extraordinary bustle of Glasgow, the silence of a sleepy little town beginning to wake up for the day was astounding. The sun was up and slanted in the sky reflecting off puddles and still wet leaves on plants and flower boxes on windowsills and hanging from streetlights.

I walked into the town, enjoying the village atmosphere. Little buildings with twisted alleys, cobblestone streets, people greeting each other in front of the cafe and everyone commented on the bright sunshine. With a light breeze cleaning out my lungs and the sun on my face I was extremely content.

On the main medieval street I followed my nose to a butcher shop with fresh baked pastries in the window. I went in and bought a Scot's Pie for 80p or about a buck. I figure it's about the Scottish equivalent of Hung Bao, delicious, cheap food and don't question the ingredients too much. It may have been the most delicious thing I've eaten here so far.

Off the medieval street, a gateway with a cobblestone path caught my attention and I immidiately hung a left into it. I was in Kilwinning Abbey, or the ruin of it. Only bits and pieces of the original abbey built in the 12th century still remain. One full transept wall is the most dramatic piece on the site, below it are the remains of arched doorways and walls of smaller rooms once inhabited by Tironesian Monks.

I read online somewhere that the Montgomeries also have a crypt here but the new church was locked.

Fellow Fable 2 nerds, is this or is this not the ruin in West Cliff where the Balvarines attack from?

After thoroughly exploring the ruin I caught the bus to Eglinton with the help of a teenage girl getting on the same bus. Generally when people hear my accent the conversation goes something like this.

"So you're from America then?"
"Yep."
"Whereabouts?"
"Seattle, I go to the University of Washington."
"Oh that's nice, just here on holiday?."
"Yes, I'm studying abroad this quarter but I wanted to come here first."

Then we talk about travel, the weather, or Croatia.

But this next part of the conversation with this girl I didn't expect.

"I would love to go to America."
"It's a nice place, definitely check out the west coast."
"...You said you're from Seattle right?"
"Yep,"
"Wasn't Twilight filmed there?" (She got a little starry eyed  here. Her hope was palatable)
"....nearby, yes."
"Cool.....did you ever meet any of the cast?"
".....No...."
"Oh, well, that's too bad." And she went back to her magazine.

Yes friends, western Washington is no longer known across the world as the home of the  Space Needle, flying fish at Pike's Place, or some of the best oudoor recreation in the world. We're known for sparkly vampires and Kirsten Stewart. Feel free to vomit repeatedly.

Putting that little conversation out of my mind I got off the bus at Eglinton Country park about a mile and a half down the road from Kilwinning. Mostly I was grateful that it really exists as no one in Glasgow has ever heard of it and also, a couple people in Kilwinning hadn't heard of it either. The bus driver pointed me down a trail off the road alongside a horse pasture and said it was that way.

In order to keep from rambling on about how beautiful the park is I'll just cut to the main points. It's beautiful. The park has a strong ecology focus and has been awarded several awards for habitat restoration. It's very easy to get lost and I did a few times but every time I did I discovered something unique and beautiful.

I wandered through on a rare warm and sunny day. Walking through the park's miles of trails I passed through forest, lake, grassland, pasture and dense swamp, I rounded a corner and surprised a herd of cows waiting at a gate, shuffling and snorting softly at the new intruder.

Eglinton Castle was the home of the Montgomeries and the Earls of Eglinton for about 500 years. The castle is now a ruin but was a functioning home as recently as 1925 when it was sold for about $50,000...what I wouldn't give for a time machine and $50,000.

I spent a lot of time at the ruin where the castle had been, a lot of the foundations are still there and I could almost make out a floor plan. The stairs and a few walls with windows are still standing. Along with a tower with about fifty feet of it still standing. I climbed to the top and was rewarded with a 360 degree view of the park/

but for me the crowning glory was this:

The Montgomery Crest on the wall of the ruin, the same one I wear around my neck almost every day. The Crest is of a woman with the head of a barbarian in one hand and either an anchor or a sword in the other with "Guard Well" in Latin above. You can interpret your own meaning...

It was an emotional moment when I discovered this. Seeing her created a tie I hadn't felt before. Here I was, a prodigal daughter, and worse, an American, a hundred years after the last Montgomery left; on a pilgrimage to find her roots. Looking up into the face of the guardian who watched over us for 500 years.

It's not often that I've experienced that kind of age and history. This place feels solid, and though the land has been extremely manipulated by everything from bombs to industry to the slow collapse of time, here she was, set where she had always been set, keeping a watchful eye, guarding the keep and silently displaying the message.

You do not fuck with the Montgomery women.

A Long Walk, Slight Morbidity and Loving the City of The Dead.

I wanted to use Tuesday to do some exploring just in Glasgow. Just in case jetlag attacked I wanted to be close to a bed. I dressed very warmly having learned my lesson on Monday; out in the relentless drizzle, I was grateful for all of it. 

First I headed north and east to the Clyde river and crossed on a twisting bridge over to the city center again. The architecture in that area of town really is fantastic, and there are many streets that are pedestrian only, usually they are main shopping streets like Argyle. I went into Central Station to have a look around. 

There is something about big, old train stations that is very romantic. Maybe it's all those old movies but they really have a presence. 

I bought a croissant and possibly the world's worst cup of coffee in the station wandering around looking at trains, travelers and shops. I'm trying to be careful with how much I spend especially on food. I'm not addicted to trinkets or clothing or shoes, but I will eat my way into the poorhouse with things like coffee and pastry (so I got the cheapest one to make it ok :)

With a warmer belly I went out into the rain again, this time closer to the river and found myself at St. Andrew's cathedral. It is a beautiful little church that has been very well maintained. Attached to the side is a brick courtyard with modern art pieces and a fountain.

"Love casts out fear" Most of the inscriptions were water related  to tie back to the fountain.

I really enjoyed exploring churches when I was in Europe last time and I still do. I think it's because they are still places. Nothing moves quickly or makes loud noises unless there is a service going on. Everyone is welcome and people will usually leave you alone. You can sit and think and enjoy the architecture to your heart's content. And when it's raining it's nice to go somewhere warm to dry off and wait out the heavier weather. Most of all I like them because nothing is expected of you other than you be quiet and respectful.

 I get frustrated with how people have to legitimize their presence in most places by buying something, and malls that barely have anywhere to rest because they want them up and spending money, and severe lack of public restrooms because of the bad things that can happen in them. In a church or cathedral you're just another soul and you will never be denied a bathroom if you need one.

After a few warm, meditative moments at St. Andrews I continued out, up and around, wandering my way through the older part of town. I've noticed there are a ton of pet shops around. Fish stores too that sell "designer" aquariums. Some are reptile or bird specific, and others are more general, but the point is, they are everywhere and who knows why. 

I saw a collection of trees in the distance and followed them down to the "Glasgow Green" A very large triangular park by the river, Most of it is wide expanses of  lawn with ornamental shrubs and trees lining the walkways. One such way lead to a very tall brick obelisk but it started raining hard again and the wind picked up so I scurried along to what looked like a large greenhouse on the other side.

The Greenhouse is called the "Winter Garden" and it's attached to a museum called "The People's Palace." Admission was free so of course I took a look around. 

I loved the gardens but unfortunately I didn't like the museum at all. It was a museum of social history and I wasn't prepared for how tough Glasgow's social history is. It's an industrial town and has held onto that identity over centuries. There were exhibits on overcrowding and inhumane conditions in turn of the century tenement houses. How women and children were beaten but just dealt with it as part of the social culture. The extremes between the super rich merchants in the Victorian era with their slaves vs. the extremely poor industrial worker. But what got me is there was an entire section devoted to the death penalty in Glasgow, the prison system and what you could and could not be hanged for pre-1964 when the penalty was abolished. Plus baby clothes for infants whose mothers were in prison and had given birth there. It rubbed me the wrong way.

Leaving the museum in a hurry, i consulted a map and walked north about a half a mile in the direction of the Cathedral, stopping in at another little church along the way. As I rounded the corner I fount myself in a section of the city I had written off after seeing it on the map. The Necropolis. "I've seen graveyards before." I told myself and prepared to walk right by to the cathedral but I was stopped in my tracks. 

The Necropolis is a very large hill connected to the Cathedral by a stone bridge. And now as I'm writing about it I'm having a hard time thinking of how to describe it and why I loved it so much. The place has the same kind of feel as a church, that sense of quiet and rest. There aren't just headstones, but huge monuments, the higher up the hill you get the bigger they are. I started at the bottom, in love with how not perfectly manicured it is, ivy cascades over the stones that are set into the walls and the stones themselves are extremely beautiful. Many are cracked, some have fallen over or are missing pieces and no one has brought in a tractor to lift them up again. It's just part of the entropy of the place. Monuments are erected, they sometimes fall down, words get washed away over time until eventually the stone is just a flat spot on the ground. 

Also, it's brilliant in terms of aesthetic landscape design. It successfully uses at least three techniques for good design and I'm going to geek out about them for a minute so just bear with me. 

The landscape is not just a flat field or hill that you can see everything from one spot. In order to discover everything the Necropolis has to offer you have to climb around it to the top. Also, the headstones are all different, no two are alike so it's impossible to get bored with what you're looking at.

Another advantage of the hill is the sense of looming that the crypts give. Everything isn't on one plane which makes the surroundings constantly changing, textured, and interesting. The emotion, given through design is very strong and impossible not to understand once you're in it.

One crypt at the top in particular drew my attention from the very bottom of the hill because of it's different shape and color. As I ascended the hill the crypt would get hidden behind a tree or landmass then appear again rewarding my efforts with a different angle. It drew me all the way to the top.

Here is an angle from below. From this vantage point I get to see the fence that I wouldn't if I only saw it from the front.

At the top I was rewarded with the full view of the crypt. 

Also, the size and and style of the markers changed the higher up I went. At the bottom they were mostly stones, in the middle, smaller crypts and at the top HUGE freaking monuments to the richest people in town. 

The place was so cool, I highly encourage anyone to visit. Though if you go by yourself on a stormy day when no one else is up there and have a highly active imagination, I am going to warn you about things like this.

That are more than a little creepy, especially because statues like this one are inside open mausoleums, and I had to get right up to the doors to see what was inside. Invariably a big gust of wind would blow me towards the terrifying statues and give me goosebumps like someone was 'walking over my grave.' Only I was walking over theirs!

Ok, enough morbidity. 

Things I Learned Today:

-Dora the cat thinks that my face/neck is the most appropriate place for her to be all the time.

-The UK and Continental Europe have different outlets.

- Glaswegians will almost always start a conversation with a comment on what the weather is doing. (that might be a UK thing though.)

-The subway is a circle in Glasgow, so if you miss your stop you just have to wait for it to come around again. Freaking brilliant idea.