Picture it – Glasgow, December 22nd. Sitting in a Café Nero (the Starbucks of Italy, a chain that has more links than the one that tied Prometheus to his rocky prison). A lone American girl just arrived in a new and fairly strange city. The only sense of commonality is the tall, skinny, hazelnut latte and biscotti that she orders in every new and strange city. Having checked into the youth hostel down the street from St. George’s Square and spending the day wandering up and down the two pedestrian thoroughfares that create the heart of Glasgow’s shopping and meeting spots, she settles down to write in her journal about the day’s travel.
Now it’s Christmas time and I find myself (well, sent myself not ‘find’ like I just woke up and I was here…) in Glasgow! God love men in kilts!
She writes enjoying her individual pizza as the first meal she has on her first trip alone. Sure, she made it all the way to London by herself, but this was a holiday visit to Scotland. Whatever she wanted to do and see, she would have to decide it and do it alone. A big difference from every other time before when the decisions were always a matter of consensus and compromise or simply a matter of doing what someone else had planned. Now it was all upon her shoulders, a burden no less daunting than Atlas’ but much less weighty.
After perusing the mall (St. Enoch’s) a while I headed out to Buchanan Street, went through Argyle Arcade – gorgeous massive amounts of wonderful, shinning jewellery. Popped into a few shops until I finally found a good deal at H&M (got a skirt and jumper for half price). Then I went and bought tickets to a choir concert at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall for tomorrow night and continued to walk the entire length of Sachiehall Street (found a cool restaurant called Stavka that serves Baltika beer!) [Beer of Russian descent, the staple of all American study abroad students in Petersburg, a.k.a. liquid bread.]
The first day alone, from boarding the bus to get to the airport, boarding the plane to arrive in the kingdom to the north, hopping the train to get into the centre of the city and finally wandering up and down foreign streets gave her a deep sense of accomplishment. At last, she was in Scotland! Land of William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, Bonnie Prince Charlie and most importantly Ewan McGregor.
Yesterday – got up about 8ish had a nice leisurely time getting ready, not the greatest of all showers but not terrible for a hostel. Then I put on one of the new outfits from H&M, a yellow turtle neck and dark denim long skirt (in case you were wondering). Then I planned to go on a city bus tour, but before I made it to the starting point I got distracted again by a sale at the Gap! (I know, shopoholic much). Well who can resist 50% off? I went in and bought another skirt I’ve had my eye on for a while and the top to match plus another white camisole which I needed and this really fun bright, but not obnoxious orange knit sweater which I’m wearing today.
Satisfied by the purchases and weighed down by the bags, she dropped off the new additions to her wardrobe at the hostel before attempting yet again to get to the city bus tour. Arriving in St. George’s Square she found the bus stop and the ever present pusher of tourist tickets.
There was a guy on the corner, who strangely enough reminded me of Loren only with a Scottish accent, who was the point man for the tour. It was only me on the bus when we started off so I got my own personal tour of Glasgow by the very friendly grandpa-like bloke who I think loves the sounds of his own voice. Anyways I went all over Glasgow and got a native’s perspective on things, including bits of ancient and modern history along with ‘There used to be beautiful houses here 30 years ago, but they torn it down to build the highway.’ It was a good time, I truly appreciate the city planers of Glasgow and think that dad would find it a fascinating place.
The Counting House, former Bank turned pub. Quintessential example of the United Kingdom drinking culture, The Counting House stands on one corner with three more pubs circling the intersection so that no matter from which direction you approach there is always a pub near by. Dropped off again at St. George’s, she walks into The Counting House and after casing the joint for about twenty minutes finally finds a place to sit and enjoy a meal. After eating and drinking some traditional ale she heads out again to continue on the touring agenda for the day.
After lunch there I took a tour of the city hall, beautiful place – Glasgow is a sister city of Rostov-on-Don, Russia – then I went to the visitor centre for the city and bought Stephanie a present, necklace, very pretty I think and bought myself a bookmark for the book I bought at the airport (Plato’s Republic). Then I went to the Royal Concert Hall and heard and sang! Christmas carols.
The last full day in Glasgow was just what was needed, a little shopping, a little sight-seeing, ending in a bit of cultural experience. The next morning she awoke early to walk around the east side of town and get the last few pictures to complete her collection of tourist memento. University of Glasgow – check. Kelvingrove Museum – check. Mansions on the Hill – double check. Through the grey dawn (at 9am) she finally finished the walk through the rain back to the bus station and boarded the Scottish Citylink bus leaving Glasgow at 10:40 heading for Edinburgh.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Il Mercante di Venezia
To start from the beginning is usually a good idea. So for now we will start at the beginning of my last trip to Italy and then retrace our steps back to Scotland and Ireland over the holidays.
The plan was this: Stella was coming to London on Friday night. We would spend two days in London and hit some of the sights, markets, etc., then take an overnight train up to Edinburgh to arrive for my Monday morning interview at Napier University. Spend the day there and then board a plane in Edinburgh headed for Rome that afternoon. Stay in Rome for a day or two, then take a train up to Florence for a while and eventually end up in Venice, from where we would leave on Friday morning back to London and then Stella would catch a flight from there back to Hong Kong. A little rushed, yes; a little hectic, definitely; this plan really left no room for improvisation or mess-ups. Therefore what happened? A big, ugly mess-up.
Though we tried and tried, we could never find just what Stella was looking for in London, a great open market, such as in Notting Hill. We went at the wrong days at the wrong times. London was not as fun or fabulous as it could have been, but still we forged ahead. Hoping for better luck in Scotland we left later than we should have and therefore missed the very last overnight train by about five minutes. Not able to go by train, we looked at flights. But they were all too expensive and too time consuming to get to the airport, etc. to make them feasible. We abandoned that part of the plan and my interview. I called to inform the university that I wouldn't be attending. There was no chance to reschedule. But there is another job there for which I applied to that sounds better.
After a night of disappointment and moderated yelling, Stella and I finally got some sleep and awoke to adjust our plans for the last few days of her visit. We refunded our train tickets and called the hostels in Italy to reschedule our reservations, switched the time and place for the flight from Edinburgh-Rome to London-Rome for Tuesday morning. Then we spent the rest of Monday going around London a bit more and I got some fashionable digs from Covent Gardens.
Tuesday morning arrives. We find our way to the airport with little problems and get on board for a five hour flight. Getting into Rome at about noon, we spend the afternoon finding our hostel, checking in and getting settled. By then the only thing we could do is walk around Rome as everything else was pretty much closed. We went to the Roma Termini bus station and got on the number 40 bus which took us through the heart of the city. We got off about half way through the ride and walked down the street window shopping until we finally happened upon the river and a great view of the castle on the bank. After filling ourselves and our cameras with the view we wandered on down to the castle, crossed back over the river and made our way to Piazza Navona. There we found some beautiful fountains-and Rome is full of fountains-as well as a a Chinese lady who wrote my name in characters for only 2 Euro. Stella and I then had a proper pizza and Italian wine and enjoyed the beautiful night.
All else we saw of Rome was Il Colloseo, the Collesium, which we spent much of the next day exploring. We met a nice American guy named Joe who is studying in France for his MBA and happened to be traveling around Europe during his school break. Stella and I meandered around Il Colloseo and the Forum with Joe who was a welcome break from our mutual company (not that we don't love each other, but the wounds were still festering from our ill-fated beginning). Finally it was time to depart on an evening train to Venice. We missed the 5pm train (our bad luck with trains continued through from the Scotland fiasco) but we managed to get the 6pm train and finally got into Venice about 11pm that night.
We found our quaint hostel down a few hundred metres from the Santa Lucia train station, hidden in a little courtyard. It was a beautiful setting which finally set our minds in the frame of holiday-makers. We spent Thursday first by walking down to San Macro Piazza, then in a failed attempt to find Stella's parents the perfect set of fountain pens. Winding our way through the vias and calles of Venice was the best part of the trip, though at the time we were both dead tired and simply wanted to finish our quest and go home. Filling up both of my camera memory cards on the views from the piazza, we gave up the search for gifts, boarded the number 1 bus that would take us all the way back up the Grand Canal and bring us back to the train station. We walked back to our hostel and relaxed for a bit before we went back out into the cold to have dinner with Dan, a friend from high school and college.
For my birthday dinner, there was no cake, there were no songs or candles. There was simply a lot of pizza, a bit of strong wine and at the end of the night, the best present of all. Stella and I finally had overcome our mutual people-culture-shock (the shock and awe of two friends who have been growing and changing thousands of miles apart from each other for months and upon finally meeting again realize they are quite different people) and returned to being good friends who could talk all night about any and everything. We talked until midnight when the wine took hold and we both crashed to sleep. The morning we had a bit of trouble getting to the airport as I forgot to have enough cash on hand to pay the hostel bill and in my rush to run to the cashpoint and back I lost my hat. But eventually the bill was paid, we got to the bus station then to the airport and finally on the plane itself.
The last day was spent as all the days before should have been, by relaxing, watching downloaded episodes of Charmed and talking about things. Stella's trouble was still far from over for when she tried to get on standby for the flight home, it was full and there was nothing more to be done for the whole night. Apparently all of Heathrow and for that matter London itself basically shuts down by midnight, unless you want to go clubbing, which was far from our minds. We opted for the faster and easier but more expensive option of taking a taxi back to my place and got some sleep before we tried again for standby in the morning. Finally Stella had to buy another ticket but she made it home, and we parted as we did when she went to Hong Kong in July, as close friends and sisters. So that's all there is from Italy, except of course pictures and the souvenir of my name in Chinese characters.
The plan was this: Stella was coming to London on Friday night. We would spend two days in London and hit some of the sights, markets, etc., then take an overnight train up to Edinburgh to arrive for my Monday morning interview at Napier University. Spend the day there and then board a plane in Edinburgh headed for Rome that afternoon. Stay in Rome for a day or two, then take a train up to Florence for a while and eventually end up in Venice, from where we would leave on Friday morning back to London and then Stella would catch a flight from there back to Hong Kong. A little rushed, yes; a little hectic, definitely; this plan really left no room for improvisation or mess-ups. Therefore what happened? A big, ugly mess-up.
Though we tried and tried, we could never find just what Stella was looking for in London, a great open market, such as in Notting Hill. We went at the wrong days at the wrong times. London was not as fun or fabulous as it could have been, but still we forged ahead. Hoping for better luck in Scotland we left later than we should have and therefore missed the very last overnight train by about five minutes. Not able to go by train, we looked at flights. But they were all too expensive and too time consuming to get to the airport, etc. to make them feasible. We abandoned that part of the plan and my interview. I called to inform the university that I wouldn't be attending. There was no chance to reschedule. But there is another job there for which I applied to that sounds better.
After a night of disappointment and moderated yelling, Stella and I finally got some sleep and awoke to adjust our plans for the last few days of her visit. We refunded our train tickets and called the hostels in Italy to reschedule our reservations, switched the time and place for the flight from Edinburgh-Rome to London-Rome for Tuesday morning. Then we spent the rest of Monday going around London a bit more and I got some fashionable digs from Covent Gardens.
Tuesday morning arrives. We find our way to the airport with little problems and get on board for a five hour flight. Getting into Rome at about noon, we spend the afternoon finding our hostel, checking in and getting settled. By then the only thing we could do is walk around Rome as everything else was pretty much closed. We went to the Roma Termini bus station and got on the number 40 bus which took us through the heart of the city. We got off about half way through the ride and walked down the street window shopping until we finally happened upon the river and a great view of the castle on the bank. After filling ourselves and our cameras with the view we wandered on down to the castle, crossed back over the river and made our way to Piazza Navona. There we found some beautiful fountains-and Rome is full of fountains-as well as a a Chinese lady who wrote my name in characters for only 2 Euro. Stella and I then had a proper pizza and Italian wine and enjoyed the beautiful night.
All else we saw of Rome was Il Colloseo, the Collesium, which we spent much of the next day exploring. We met a nice American guy named Joe who is studying in France for his MBA and happened to be traveling around Europe during his school break. Stella and I meandered around Il Colloseo and the Forum with Joe who was a welcome break from our mutual company (not that we don't love each other, but the wounds were still festering from our ill-fated beginning). Finally it was time to depart on an evening train to Venice. We missed the 5pm train (our bad luck with trains continued through from the Scotland fiasco) but we managed to get the 6pm train and finally got into Venice about 11pm that night.
We found our quaint hostel down a few hundred metres from the Santa Lucia train station, hidden in a little courtyard. It was a beautiful setting which finally set our minds in the frame of holiday-makers. We spent Thursday first by walking down to San Macro Piazza, then in a failed attempt to find Stella's parents the perfect set of fountain pens. Winding our way through the vias and calles of Venice was the best part of the trip, though at the time we were both dead tired and simply wanted to finish our quest and go home. Filling up both of my camera memory cards on the views from the piazza, we gave up the search for gifts, boarded the number 1 bus that would take us all the way back up the Grand Canal and bring us back to the train station. We walked back to our hostel and relaxed for a bit before we went back out into the cold to have dinner with Dan, a friend from high school and college.
For my birthday dinner, there was no cake, there were no songs or candles. There was simply a lot of pizza, a bit of strong wine and at the end of the night, the best present of all. Stella and I finally had overcome our mutual people-culture-shock (the shock and awe of two friends who have been growing and changing thousands of miles apart from each other for months and upon finally meeting again realize they are quite different people) and returned to being good friends who could talk all night about any and everything. We talked until midnight when the wine took hold and we both crashed to sleep. The morning we had a bit of trouble getting to the airport as I forgot to have enough cash on hand to pay the hostel bill and in my rush to run to the cashpoint and back I lost my hat. But eventually the bill was paid, we got to the bus station then to the airport and finally on the plane itself.
The last day was spent as all the days before should have been, by relaxing, watching downloaded episodes of Charmed and talking about things. Stella's trouble was still far from over for when she tried to get on standby for the flight home, it was full and there was nothing more to be done for the whole night. Apparently all of Heathrow and for that matter London itself basically shuts down by midnight, unless you want to go clubbing, which was far from our minds. We opted for the faster and easier but more expensive option of taking a taxi back to my place and got some sleep before we tried again for standby in the morning. Finally Stella had to buy another ticket but she made it home, and we parted as we did when she went to Hong Kong in July, as close friends and sisters. So that's all there is from Italy, except of course pictures and the souvenir of my name in Chinese characters.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Leaving on a midnight train...
That's right folks. I'm leaving on a midnight train tonight (well... 22.58, which is near enough to midnight) going to Edinburgh. Why Edinburgh you ask? Didn't I see enough of it during Christmas, which I still haven't told you all about? Well I did enjoy and see a bit of it the first time around and now I'm going for "business". That is I'm going for a job interview! I applied a while back as a Registry Assistant at Napier University and they sent me a letter requesting that I come up and interview with them on Monday. The only snag was that it was right during the time that Stella, my friend and former roommate, was coming to visit me and our planned trip to Italy. Not to be deterred on either getting a job in the UK or missing out on the Mediterranean, Stella and I re-planned it so that we would train it up to Edinburgh, see the castle (which I missed last time due to Boxing Day closure), I'll do the interview and we'll head over to Glasgow, grab a plane (well ride it at least) to Rome and do three + days there. Not too bad a plan I reckon, but now it's time to put it to the test as we are flying out the door this second to get to the train station. So I will keep in touch over the next week on where we are and 'whatsa' happening (said with terribly fake, Joey Tribiani style American-Italian accent). Until then... Ciao!
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