At Week’s End

Happy Weekend to you! Hope you’re finding time to rest — and play, as we wanted to at this great little playground found on the edge of the Glasgow Green, a great huge park.

We’re beginning to see what appeal there is in having a caravan and going to the country. We had a lovely ride through the countryside yesterday, where we found all manner of green hills, ‘ships’ (aka ‘sheep’), and picturesque countryside. While most of this country is green and nice, the cities are… a bit gray and sandstone colored. Just getting away from the endless streams of people, and no longer being dwarfed by tall buildings is a bit of a relief, and we look forward to just popping in to various B&B’s in some randomly selected township very soon. (READ: When we have money.)

The churches here are stunning, edifices of mossy sandstone and granite with swooping arches and spires; even the synagogues are built this way. We’re told that they’re filled with a majority of people in their eighties, which will make us stick out a bit as we make the rounds. Near the University there might be a slightly younger congregation, which would be good. If not, we’ll make do… it’s not like we don’t meet the younger population of the city in every Nero’s, Starbucks and restaurant anyway… Christianity seems to be more of an assumed thing, something that is paired with the word ‘duty’ and has a meaning entirely different than what an American might imply. I don’t know how people react to church-goers here – I remember the faint disbelief I ran across with some of my graduate professors. In such an older country, perhaps people here feel they’ve grown out of church. Remains to be seen…

And now, for some disordered observations:

From the Land of Sky Blue Waters: In a country where it seems to rain a bit daily, the Scots are not into saving it. There hasn’t been one low-flow toilet in the country we’ve encountered thus far, and we both had quite a startled reaction from our first flushes — gouts of water from two different directions, geysering up with a great watery roar. We both emerged from the bathroom looking a bit startled.

The Sun Has Gone To Bed (And So Must I): Changing latitudes is not so bad. Changing longitudes is confusing. D. can no longer tell directions of North or South because the sun is in the wrong place. This means that his usual confident lope is a bit …hesitatant. T, who is a born passenger, is actually doing better at finding her way around, and she is completely directionally dyslexic. This is an exciting five minutes for her — because we know by next week that D. will have pulled it together and started being annoyingly accurate once again.

Cab Drivers: Someday, I want to write a book on The Collected Wit of Glasgow Cabbies. We have had some of the most… unique persons helping us navigate through the twisty streets of this town. “For heaven’s sakes, don’t mention football!” several of them have told us — which was unnecessary, as we don’t have any inkling about either rugby or soccer, both of which seem to be covered under the name ‘football.’ “Be sure you visit Saucihall Lane, all the pubs and clubs are there,” another assured us. “You’ll want to be in the West End. That’s where everything’s happening,” everyone says. And each of them has gone out of their way to be helpful — curiously asking if we’re just sightseeing, being astounded that we would leave California to come here, remarking with fond disparagement on their country.

What are you thinkin’?!: Actually, it’s been more than the cabbies who have marveled about us leaving California. The girl who got our luggage out of storage last night remarked on it. All of our cab drivers and the woman we met on the bus. People at the Vodafone store. Everyone has said almost exactly the same thing about the weather, their countrymen (“Glaswegians are REALLY helpful, you’ll find,”), and our general craziness. It reminds us once again that this is one country and one people, despite superficial difference and in marked contrast from our own mishmashed world. Granted the state of California is bigger than this whole country of Scotland, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that you couldn’t get ten people to make even similar statements about it, as there is simply too much to cover, but bigger doesn’t mean better, and there is something to be said for a group this in sync.

Stand By Yer Man: Of course, that being said, the thing that is making T feel a little loopy are the numbers of people commenting on her “following her man.” As a writer in her own right who can work anywhere, it simply didn’t make sense to stay in California whilst D went on his way, and while it didn’t feel particularly …heroic to do this, the numbers of people commenting on it have made her uneasy. “You’re so good,” is one prevalent statement, usually from women. “So, you’re following this crazy man?” is the cabbie rejoinder. “But what will you do?” is the most common question we hear, most surprisingly the last time from the estate agent, who said she wasn’t even asking for professional reasons, but on a personal level. Everyone seems terribly afraid that T is going to be roaming the moors, wailing or something. It’s making her twitchy.

Tea for — Two?:

The other question comes from other college students who ask how many bedrooms is our flat. When we tell them “two,” they nod, and then appear bewildered later to find that we’re married. Apparently the flat room count is a euphemism we hadn’t caught. We almost had three bedrooms… I wonder what that would have signified! Of course, the room question does make a change from the question we got at home about when we would have children… the UK birthrate is very low, so no one cares about that here. (Whew.)

It’s been a looong week, and we looked forward to “having a lie-in” with no one to bother us this morning. Well, of course THAT wasn’t going to happen. At ten to six, alarms shrilled and we flew out of bed, seeking only to end the source of that hideous sound… three minutes later our foggy brains registered doors closing, so we stumbled into our clothes (T’s shirts inside out, shoes — when finally located — slid into with heels left out) and joined the rest of the hotel in the road, waiting for the Strathclyde Fire & Rescue team. I am not sure we ought to be pleased with our performance. The many Americans in the group called anxiously to each other, “You got the passports, right?” Um, no. We had not. Nor the computers, nor the camera, nor, in D’s case, a jacket. I keep thinking, “Tomorrow. We’ll be prepared for anything tomorrow.” Brains will work better with a lot more sleep…

– D & T

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