Sunday Afternoon

I rode the tour bus back to the center of town. The rain had stopped and it even looked like we might get some sun. I got off and started meandering around downtown. It was so much less pressure to get anywhere with no rain. I had a bit of trouble finding the Lighthouse, which is not anything like your typical lighthouse. It's the former home of a Glasgow newspaper that's now defunct. But the building is in the heart of downtown and has a tower in one corner that offers 360-degree views of the city.

The rest of the building has been converted into a museum dedicated to design. I thought the displays were pretty mediocre, but the six-story spiral staircase climb to the top of the tower revealed views that made it all worth it.



After the Lighthouse I was able to find the Tobacco Merchant's House - the oldest private residence in Glasgow, and I even popped into the Museum of Contemporary Art which was right nearby. Both my guidebook and an internet site panned it, and I have to say my expectations were just about met. Apparently a lot of things that you had around the house as a kid now count for contemporary art, including slingshots made out of school supplies.

Feeling like I had earned a break, I walked a couple of blocks over to the Counting House Pub. This is a pub made out of a former bank lobby. I liked the idea, especially since one of my favorite spots at home used to be a pub and restaurant from a converted old bank, before it changed hands again and became a health food store (blech). At any rate, I wasn't too impressed with the Counting House either.

It was very bright and clean with marble floors, but it had about the same atmosphere as a bank branch still: quiet and lots of marble. Plus they had this system for ordering food where you went up to the bar, gave them the number of what you wanted from the menu, then the number of the table you were at. Then someone else delivered your food. Just seemed very machine-like to me. Therefore, I had one adult beverage and left.

Outside, it was getting warmer and although it was still overcast, it didn't seem like it was ready to pour like it did earlier. I hopped back on the next tour bus with an aim of ending my day with a visit to Glasgow Cathedral and the St. Mungo Museum of religious art on the same grounds. St. Mungo is a nickname, lest you think he wrote that oldie "Summertime." I never did find out what his given name was.


The museum was not very big, but every item it had was interesting. They had statues of Hindu gods with two dozen arms, ancient Buddhas, stuff from Mexico's Day of the Dead, not to mention crucifixes and images of Mary.

After that I headed over to the Cathedral and nosed around. It was massive and had endured all kinds of wild history. A church had apparently been on the site since the Dark Ages and had been looted twice. Different parts of the church dated from then right up to the present day. Behind the church was the Necropolis, which is the not-as-old-as-you'd-think cemetery on the hill behind the cathedral. It was filled with massive monuments to bishops and regular folks, all with great views of the city.

All in all I ended up with a pretty darn good Sunday afternoon. Turned out the night would be even better . . .

My Sunday in Glasgow

You may remember my trip to Glasgow. You can refresh your memory here and here. But I have kept meaning to get around to writing about my last full day there.

Sunday I woke up to a pouring rain that had apparently gone on all night. After my breakfast I noticed that the River Kelvin, which I had to cross to get to my tube station, was a raging river as opposed to the babbling brook it had been the day before. No worry for me though, as I had my L.L. Bean superjacket on. It features a zip out fleece lining that doesn't look like a fleece lining, an adjustable hood, big pockets, small fleece-lined pockets for your hands, and even a pocket for a flask. Or camera. Plus it's waterproof. And believe me, I tested it. Not by design, but when I crossed the river and turned to walk into my tube station, a huge iron gate was in my way. Confused, I crossed the street to go in the other way. Same story. Apparently, subway service does not run in Glasgow on Sunday. I'm trying to imagine that in NYC.

So, I debated for a moment about whether to cab it or walk it downtown. It was only a 5 minute subway ride, so I decided to walk it. This was a mistake. As much as superjacket kept me dry where it covered me, my pants and face got soaked trudging around in the windblown downpour.

I will say, however, that Kelvingrove Park, which I walked through, was a wonderful space even in the terrible weather. It's home to a statute of the great scientist Lord Kelvin, who invented the Kelvin temperature scale and lent his name to the Kelvinator brand of fridges.



I walked through the park over to Glasgow University, which my guidebook said had several interesting (and free) museums. I'm going to guess that they were interesting (and free) because they were also shuttered up (and closed). I started muttering to myself about Anglicans having to split from the Catholic church but closing everything interesting on Sunday. But in perusing my guide, I noticed that the Glasgow Tenement Museum was open on Sundays at 11am, was a short walk away, and it was 10:30am. Smashing. I had seen the NYC tenement museum, and this was the same premise: a former tenement frozen in time that one could walk through with a guide.

Problem was, the museum was close as the crow flies, but was on the other side of a highway called the Clydeside Expressway. So I walked about a mile down a steep hill, crossed over the Clydeside, then the River Clyde, then another mile up essentially the same San Franciscan (or Corkian) sized hill. Happening upon the tenement museum tired and somehow both proud and cranky with myself, I went up to the door only to find this sign: BACK AT NOON. Well, I'm interested in poverty probably more than the next guy, or at least more than Tom, Dick, and Harry, but I ain't waiting around for an hour in the rain to see a bunch of old furniture and have a pimply faced grad student explain how hard it was back then. Even if I sometimes qualify as a freckle faced grad student.

I sloshed back down the hill and ended up at the edge of the shopping district. I saw a McDonald's and went in to use the restroom and regroup for a minute. Now, I'm not one of these anti-McD's people, but it's got to be pretty bad for you to catch me in one by myself in a foreign country on vacation. I dried out as best I could (God bless air dryers, even if Glaswegians think me strange), and replotted my day, paying careful attention to when things were open and where they were in relation to each other.

When I left the McDonald's, still clutching my map, I noticed a City Tour Bus, which was still covered by my 48-hour ticket purchased the morning before. I was about to motion to him to wait and start running, but the driver looked at me and nodded. Confused me for a moment, then I realized I was carrying the bright red map that came free with the bus ticket. And, as I walked the block to the waiting bus, I noticed the rain had stopped outright. Still overcast, but no rain. Things were looking up.

To be continued.

Overheard on Political Radio Today

"These are the same people who are literally urinating on the constitution." (emphasis NOT added, they said it that way!)

It's because of statements like this that I no longer listen to politically-charged radio or television. I could go on and on about the ad hominem arguments thrown about on such shows (e.g., "these are the same right wingers who think it's fine to spend our money on foreign aid" or "these are the same liberals who clamor for accountability"). Both sides of talking heads make me sick on this point - we are a country of people, not of ideological agendas - but neither of them make me more angry as an amateur grammarian than when someone makes such a ridiculous use of the word 'literally.'

'Literally' means: not figuratively, but instead, what actually happened. 'Literally' is not a synonym for 'seriously' or 'all but' or 'not really but almost like.' And our relaxation of the literal meaning of literally is on the verge of sending 'literally' to the same fate as 'irregardless,' which is, namely, incorrect acceptance as a bastardization of our language. Seriously, are we to believe that one party actually broke into the museum, tore the Constitution from the glass case, and took a piss on it?

And if you doubt me, answer this: what's next? No distinction between its and it's? Atrocious mangling of plurals and possessives - like "Seven Item's or Less"? Acceptance of 'traveling' over 'travelling' (oops - that already happened)?

No, my brothers and sisters! Take up arms against this slack-jawed use of the language! Respond the same way you would if someone gave you the wrong change for your soup at the deli!