Trip Date: March 16, 2012
**Photos are at the bottom. There will be many more from this weekend. Just haven't gotten that far yet!
Wow! What a whirlwind weekend! A few weeks ago one of my classmates, Rebecca, told us she was going home to Northern Ireland and any of us who wanted could join her in Belfast while she was there visiting some of her friends before they moved elsewhere. But that's besides the point. The important thing is that after some careful consideration decided it was in my best interest to celebrate St. Paddy's (not Patty's) in Belfast because, really, when would I have the chance to do that again. Certainly not next year when I'm in Australia.
Rebecca left on Thursday for Northern Ireland to visit her family a few hours out of Belfast and that night I went to see Monty Python's Spamalot with some friends at the beautiful King's Theatre in the Glasgow City Center. It's a hilarious musical with awesome music, though I have to admit that many of the jokes were totally lost on me. Nevertheless, I've been wanting to see it for a while and finally got the chance. We grabbed a few drinks after the show, but what I thought was going to be a sort-of late night, ended up being a very very late night and I ended up crawling home at 3am and climbed into bed.
It was important to get up early the next morning because I had to get to the city center to catch a train, which would take me to a bus, which would take me to a car/passenger ferry, which would take me to Belfast. It's a great package deal called the Rail and Sail: for £54 you get a return foot passenger ticket right from Glasgow to Belfast!
Since I didn't get a whole lot of sleep and still had to pack, I was in a fluster when I woke up. I made myself breakfast and packed what I thought I needed and was planning on heading to school quickly to pick up some papers to read on the train and ferry. I hate mornings and can never get going and before I knew it, I was turning the corner to the Partick Train Station with 20 minutes to spare before my train left. The trouble is that my train was leaving from the Central Station in the city center, which was definitely more than 20 minutes away, even if the subway got to Partick right on time. Luckily, there was a whole stand of taxis ready to go, so I climbed in the first one and told him to book it to Central Station. He was in no such hurry, and I kept looking at my phone, watching the minutes count down.
We finally pulled up to Central Station and the station clocks read 11:38 when I walked in (my train was supposed to leave at 11:42). There were too many monitors for me to make sense of anything with such little time left, but I couldn't find a station agent anywhere, so I walked around the waiting area a few times before I found someone and asked from which platform the Rail and Sail train was leaving. The lady frowned and said the direct train already left. My heart sank, but I wasn't giving up. My recollection from getting my tickets was that I needed to catch a bus at some point, so I asked about the 11:42 train. Something clicked in the agent's mind and she realized that my ticket was not the direct ticket and told me I should just be able to catch the train from Platform 10 to Ayr. I thanked her and booked it for the platform, and just as I sat down on the train, I felt it lurch forward. The luck of the Irish was truly on my side that morning.
The journey from Glasgow to the small town of Ayr was not too spectacular, and neither was the bus ride from Ayr to Stranraer. It was raining and since I was still fairly sleep-deprived, I just plugged into my iPod and dozed off. The bus did start following a road right along the ocean once we got to Girvan and if the sun had been out, the views of the Northern Irish Sea would have been amazing! But even in the rain, the town of Girvan looked idyllic, with seaside cottages built right up to the edge of the water! It wasn't much longer until the pulled into the Stena Line ferry docks on Loch Ryan and I easily passed through security (airport style), got a mocha for my caffeine fix, found an outlet to plug my iPod in, and connected to the free wifi so I could download a few of the papers I didn't have time to retrieve that morning.
Soon enough they called everyone onto the boat and let me tell you, it was a ZOO! I'm not sure how many people can fit in the boat, but it was packed to the gills. There were tons of people heading to Belfast; lots of young people heading to Belfast for St. Paddy's Day, including some unforgivingly stereotypical American backpackers, and even a group of young teenage boys wearing pink bunny suits (I'm still lost on that one!). Belfast was going to be an exciting weekend, not only because of St. Paddy's Day, but also because it was the final weekend of the Six Nations Rugby Tournament and Ireland (that's both Northern and the Republic) was playing England in the final match. BIG GAME! But the boat was beautiful and new. There was a typical food-court style room and seating area filling the main deck and on the deck above there were more refined and quieter seating areas with iPads, news casts, a cinema, and a trucker's club. What's more is that the ship also has a fully functional hotel and day spa you can treat yourself to for a few extra quid!
I was fortunate enough to find a big comfy seat in front of a large window and it didn't take long before the massive ship was pulling away from the docks. Sleep deprivation finally caught up to me and I passed out, sleeping most of the way across the water. I did wake up in time, though, to take my camera and head outside to the smoking decks as we were pulling into Belfast harbor. It was still drizzly, but I managed to snap a few (hundred) photos of the harbor, including the famed cranes with the monikers, Samson and Goliath, of the Harland and Wolff shipbuilding company. In the corner of the harbor is a beautiful new building that will house the Titanic Museum, slated to open this year, celebrating the centennial of the ship's inaugural, final, and infamous voyage (which is interestingly enough in the news recently as a new hypothesis was put forward suggesting an unusually strong gravitational pull from the sun and moon caused super high tides three months earlier, allowing for a massive iceberg to float so far south).
The ferry's captain effortlessly steered the boat into it's slip along the harbor and everyone disembarked rather quickly. I phoned Rebecca to let her know I was safely in Belfast and we arranged plans to meet up in the city center, so I caught a city bus from the ferry terminal to City Hall - a very, very easy connection to make (and cheap, too).
Belfast has a reputation for being dangerous, rowdy, and riotous and the fears are not totally unfounded what with the Troubles, severe border control, and the recent St. Patrick's Day riots of 2009. The last decade, though, has seen a sharp decrease in the amount of violence between the Protestant and Catholic Irish factions within the city, though in many places and in certain pubs you'd best not talk about the wrong sports team, political party, or religion, because in Belfast, they are often all one-in-the-same. While my family was in [the Republic of] Ireland this summer, my brother and his fiance were in Belfast, and though I may not remember what they said exactly, I seem to think they were glad they didn't stay too long. As soon as I got off the bus in the city center, I wondered why.
Downtown Belfast is beautiful! Especially at night when everything is lit up. I took a few photos of the City Hall while Rebecca came to find me. We grabbed dinner at a very fancy little restaurant called, Deane's, for some upscale seafood (who knew that fish pie could be so good? oh, and they have a desert or salad and dinner for £14 sometimes) and then got some suggestions on pubs from our server who directed to a place called the Duke of York. Well, we did not find the Duke of York, but instead came across the Bittles Bar. Bittles is incredibly tiny, occupying the corner of a very narrow triangular building, and no more than 10 tables inside with one bartender running the whole show. But there were paintings of historic Irish athletes (George Best, Barry McGuigan) and politicians including one of an embrace between the leaders of the Protestant and Catholic political factions. Rebecca and I chatted away in the corner underneath a painting of the Titanic, but we didn't stay for too long as some very drunk fellows at the next table over were getting to be a little too unpredictable.
With our Guinnesses finished, we walked back across town to the Crown Bar Liquor Saloon, which is where many laborers would stop in for a wee pint after a day's work. It's famous for being opened by an Irish man and his English wife - which is odd to begin with - but the story goes, or so I'm told, that the woman desperately wanted to name the bar the Crown Bar in honor of the British crown. Her husband agreed, surprisingly, and offered to have a crown beautifully displayed....in mosaiced tiles on the floor when you walk in so you step on the crown every time you walk in for a drink. Again, that's the way the story goes and I can't confirm it right now. But the Crown Bar is a masterpiece of tiled mosaics, carved wood, tin ceiling tiles, stained glass, and metal work. The main bar area has no tables, though there are 10 fully-enclosed booths in the bar for private discussions between patrons. Above the bar is a board with 10 circular holes each assigned a letter A-J that corresponded to a specific booth. If you needed something from the bartender, you would just hit a button in your booth and the corresponding light turned on, and you would soon get service without losing privacy. Awesome place and definitely work a peek when you're in Belfast!
The night was getting on and we started heading back to Rebecca's aunt and uncle's flat where we were staying while they were out of town. On the way, though, we stopped in one more pub called Filthy McNasty's where we topped off with another few pints of Guinness before calling it a night. We hailed a cab to take us the rest of the way. Rebecca asked me, on the way back to Glasgow on Sunday, if I noticed that the cabbies wanted to know where you wanted to before you got in because many cab drivers will not drive into certain parts of town as they can just be too volatile. But where we were going was fine and we soon crashed into bed without alarms set so we could just sleep.
(Either I've been itching to write for a while or my memory of last weekend is just still so clear that I have a lot to write about! More coming soon, but I've got to go to bed!)
Monday, March 19, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Glasgow City Crest
I just wanted to post something here today to celebrate my being in Glasgow for a month! St. Mungo is the patron saint of the city and founded a religious site here way back in the day. There are four emblems that are found on the City Crest that are also symbols associated with Glasgow elsewhere, including little logos on the bus stops. They are a fish, tree, bell, and bird. Each of these symbols are said to be related to miracles St. Mungo performed. What they are, I'll have to get back to you. There is also a little poem that children are taught in school growing up related to the symbols of St. Mungo and I've put it below the photo of the Crest.
Here is the bird that never flew.Here is the tree that never grew.Here is the bell that never rang.Here is the fish that never swam.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Scotland Rugby!!
26 February 2012
Today was a fantastic day! After being knocked out cold with a cold the last few days, I made sure that I was healthy enough to enjoy my first live sporting event in Scotland. My officemate, Rebecca, used to play rugby at Glasgow Uni and though some of her friends, was able to get tickets to the Six Nations rugby match between Scotland and France in Edinburgh. The Six Nations, if I haven't mentioned this before, is a tournament where each of six countries (England, Wales, Ireland [Northern and the Republic of], Scotland, France, and Italy) plays each other team once. The tournament started just after I got to Glasgow and it was my real introduction to the sport. Today's game was going to be good. Even though Scotland lost their first two matches to England (a rival not unlike U of Michigan vs. Ohio State) and Wales, they were going to be good competition for France who killed Italy in the first round and hadn't played since because their game against Ireland was cancelled.
I met Rebecca, some of the other rugby girls, and another officemate, Heather, down at the Queen Street Station, right off of St. George's Square in Glasgow's city center at 11am and we soon caught a train to Edinburgh. Now, a train had left not more than 15 minutes earlier for Edinburgh, and our train was still packed to the gills by the time we boarded. Five or so stops later, with people cramming into the train at each stop, everyone piled out at the Haymarket stop and started a long progression down the road to Murrayfield Stadium on the west end of town. Before going into the stadium, we first found a picnic table at one of the numerous hotels and cafés and pubs that were hosting parties with beer tents and cook-out-style food. We were well enough early for the start of the game, so we stuck around our table and drank some beers before wandering over to the stadium.
Once we started toward the stadium, it was almost like I was back in Ann Arbor walking down Hoover Street toward the Big House. People were waving flags and singing chants and some locals were playing bagpipes along the way, and nearly every guy was wearing a kilt! I've been told people here normally don't pull out their kilts except for special occasions, and I've decided that this game was one of the most special occasions of the year. We quickly ducked into one of the tents where they were selling rugby kits (aka jerseys) and polo shirts and other items so Heather and I could get something to fit in with the rest of the crowd. And after another beer stop, we headed up to our seats.
The stadium is kind of lopsided in that the western side of the stadium rises higher than the east side, enough so that if you're sitting high enough, you can see over the stadium's east side overhang. The teams were both lining up for the national anthems when we walked in and we made it just in time to hear the end of the French anthem and then got goosebumps while a huge bagpipe and drum corps played the Scottish anthem. It was pretty amazing because for the French, Edinburgh is no more than a quick plane ride away, and so the stadium was not for want of crazy dressed up fans from either side. We found our seats in row RR, waaaaay up in the top of the west side, and only then do you realize why the west side of the stadium sits so high: The view over the east side to the skyline of the city is spectacular! It's like a picture-perfect encapsulation of Edinburgh with tall church spires, the prominent Castle, and buildings of the city center all shadowed by the peak of Arthur's Seat, a large hill right in the middle of town that is the frozen core of a magma plug that has since been exposed through years of erosion. It was almost hard to focus on the match with that scenery in view!
Rugby was fairly easy enough for me to pick up on a few weeks ago when I was first introduced. Essentially, one team tries to touch the ball down in their opponent's end zone for a try, which is worth 5 points. If the team makes the try, they are then able to attempt a conversion by kicking the ball through the uprights for another 2 points. Any time during regular play, if a team is close enough to their opponent's uprights, they can drop kick the ball through the uprights for 3 points. The team with the ball cannot pass it forward, and so to move down the field, they have to pass it sideways or backward to a teammate who can then try to charge down the field with the ball in hand. The play doesn't stop unless there is an injury and each half lasts 40 minutes. Obviously, there is a lot more to the game than that, but you get the idea...
No sooner had we found our seats and sat down did we have to get back on our feet because Scotland made their first try and conversion, taking the lead 7-0. They played really well, but not well enough because France came back with a try and conversion and then a series of successful drop kicks. Scotland came back in the second half with another try, taking the lead to 17-13. But France came back with another successful try and drop goal, and held Scotland off for the rest of the match, winning 17-23. The mood of the crowd was palpable and even though the French were raucous and, well, French, they kept the party to themselves and the Scots all left the stadium peaceably. But the rugby wasn't the only excitement during the game. Sometime in the second half, a Frenchman decided to hop out onto the field with nothing but a flag flying above his head. He streaked from one end of the field to the other and halfway back again before security could catch him. It gave us all a good laugh!
Following the game, we went to a few different pubs for a few more beers and some food, and while some of our group stayed out a while longer, Heather and I headed back to the train station to get our ride back to Glasgow. It was a fantastically fun day and I'm glad I was healthy enough to go!
Today was a fantastic day! After being knocked out cold with a cold the last few days, I made sure that I was healthy enough to enjoy my first live sporting event in Scotland. My officemate, Rebecca, used to play rugby at Glasgow Uni and though some of her friends, was able to get tickets to the Six Nations rugby match between Scotland and France in Edinburgh. The Six Nations, if I haven't mentioned this before, is a tournament where each of six countries (England, Wales, Ireland [Northern and the Republic of], Scotland, France, and Italy) plays each other team once. The tournament started just after I got to Glasgow and it was my real introduction to the sport. Today's game was going to be good. Even though Scotland lost their first two matches to England (a rival not unlike U of Michigan vs. Ohio State) and Wales, they were going to be good competition for France who killed Italy in the first round and hadn't played since because their game against Ireland was cancelled.
I met Rebecca, some of the other rugby girls, and another officemate, Heather, down at the Queen Street Station, right off of St. George's Square in Glasgow's city center at 11am and we soon caught a train to Edinburgh. Now, a train had left not more than 15 minutes earlier for Edinburgh, and our train was still packed to the gills by the time we boarded. Five or so stops later, with people cramming into the train at each stop, everyone piled out at the Haymarket stop and started a long progression down the road to Murrayfield Stadium on the west end of town. Before going into the stadium, we first found a picnic table at one of the numerous hotels and cafés and pubs that were hosting parties with beer tents and cook-out-style food. We were well enough early for the start of the game, so we stuck around our table and drank some beers before wandering over to the stadium.
Once we started toward the stadium, it was almost like I was back in Ann Arbor walking down Hoover Street toward the Big House. People were waving flags and singing chants and some locals were playing bagpipes along the way, and nearly every guy was wearing a kilt! I've been told people here normally don't pull out their kilts except for special occasions, and I've decided that this game was one of the most special occasions of the year. We quickly ducked into one of the tents where they were selling rugby kits (aka jerseys) and polo shirts and other items so Heather and I could get something to fit in with the rest of the crowd. And after another beer stop, we headed up to our seats.
The stadium is kind of lopsided in that the western side of the stadium rises higher than the east side, enough so that if you're sitting high enough, you can see over the stadium's east side overhang. The teams were both lining up for the national anthems when we walked in and we made it just in time to hear the end of the French anthem and then got goosebumps while a huge bagpipe and drum corps played the Scottish anthem. It was pretty amazing because for the French, Edinburgh is no more than a quick plane ride away, and so the stadium was not for want of crazy dressed up fans from either side. We found our seats in row RR, waaaaay up in the top of the west side, and only then do you realize why the west side of the stadium sits so high: The view over the east side to the skyline of the city is spectacular! It's like a picture-perfect encapsulation of Edinburgh with tall church spires, the prominent Castle, and buildings of the city center all shadowed by the peak of Arthur's Seat, a large hill right in the middle of town that is the frozen core of a magma plug that has since been exposed through years of erosion. It was almost hard to focus on the match with that scenery in view!
 |
| Panorama of Edinburgh from Murrayfield Stadium |
No sooner had we found our seats and sat down did we have to get back on our feet because Scotland made their first try and conversion, taking the lead 7-0. They played really well, but not well enough because France came back with a try and conversion and then a series of successful drop kicks. Scotland came back in the second half with another try, taking the lead to 17-13. But France came back with another successful try and drop goal, and held Scotland off for the rest of the match, winning 17-23. The mood of the crowd was palpable and even though the French were raucous and, well, French, they kept the party to themselves and the Scots all left the stadium peaceably. But the rugby wasn't the only excitement during the game. Sometime in the second half, a Frenchman decided to hop out onto the field with nothing but a flag flying above his head. He streaked from one end of the field to the other and halfway back again before security could catch him. It gave us all a good laugh!
Following the game, we went to a few different pubs for a few more beers and some food, and while some of our group stayed out a while longer, Heather and I headed back to the train station to get our ride back to Glasgow. It was a fantastically fun day and I'm glad I was healthy enough to go!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Glasgow: the dear green place
*I'm trying out a new way of sharing my photos. There is a link at the bottom to my photo album.*
This weekend was a fun one for me because it was really the first time I took the time to get out and see new parts of Glasgow. When I visited last December, everyone kept telling me that I had to visit the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Galleries. So after a quick haircut at a neighborhood barbershop (a very social place, and when I said I was from Michigan, the guy cutting my hair asked if it was in the South. We got a good laugh out of that and they liked how I could point to where I'm from on my hand), I made the short walk down to the Museum.
The Kelvingrove Museum is one of the city-owned and operated museums, which are regularly open and absolutely free to the public, which is fantastic because it's a beautiful museum! The old and ornate sandstone façade welcomes you into the main hall where right above your head, on the second floor, is a huge, breathtaking pipe organ in a carved wooden housing. There was a sign on the organ bench advertising a concert at 1 pm, and I got there with a few minutes to spare. What a surprise!
In the meantime, I headed upstairs and asked a docent where a good place to start my first tour of the museum would be. He gave me some advice and within seconds I was staring up at the original canvas painting of Christ of St. John on the Cross (thank you, Wikipedia). I followed the upstairs corridor around to a room full of Scottish artifacts and items belonging to such Scottish heroes as Robert Byrnes (Scotland's native poet and most renown national hero) and Mary Queen of Scots. One o'clock came around and and I picked out a good spot to watch the organ concert which aptly started off with Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (and it just shook the building!):
I wandered around a little while longer on Saturday at the museum, but soon went home. On Sunday, though, I got back out there and hopped onto one of those cheesy double-decker tour buses to get my official tour of Glasgow. I'd heard great things about the tour and was excited to learn a lot about the city. It was well worth it since you pay for your ticket, which is then valid for two days and you can hop on or off the bus at any of the 15-some stops. The morning was super sunny and warm-ish (6°C), so I dressed for that weather, but was later wishing I at least brought a hat since I sat outside the entire time to get some good photos without the smudges from the windows. Well, it eventually got really cold and I think I contracted either a chest-cold or pneumonia. The bus also went a little too fast for me to really absorb the info the audio tour was providing. An example went something like this (I'm going to paraphrase):
I even hopped off at the Glasgow Green, which is the oldest park in Glasgow and took a little tour through the People's Palace, a city-run museum covering all facets of Glasgow living from the early industrial days, to the tenement housing and city history. The housing bit was interesting because Glasgow's population in the late 19th century grew to huge numbers and the city was quickly overcrowded. The renovation of many neighborhoods and clearing of the old city tenements was one of the first major crackdowns on crime, poor living conditions, and disease control in the world, and was met with anger by thousands of people who believed the real reason the tenements were being shut down was to make room for housing that was out of their budget. Finally, there was a little exhibit on World War II and I learned that Glasgow had been severely damaged by German air raids and parts of the West End of town (my neighborhood) were bombed beyond repair. Attached to the People's Palace is the Winter Gardens, a tropical greenhouse with a nice little café and tons of lush vegetation. The Greens themselves are beautiful and spacious and are used for public events throughout the year from sporting matches to fireworks displays.
I got back on the bus and we passed the oldest house in Glasgow (the oldest building is the Cathedral) and made our way along the River Clyde where we crossed over the Squinty Bridge, Glasgow's newest motorway across the River Clyde, and over to the Science Center which I will have to return to eventually because not only has an IMAX theater, but the tallest structure in Scotland - the Glasgow Tower - is also there. Not only is it the tallest structure in Scotland, but it is also the only free-standing structure in the world able to rotate a full 360°!
Right across from the Science Center is the Clyde Auditorium, a massive building designed to represent the hulls of ships, but is now cleverly nicknamed, The Armadillo. The Armadillo is built on reclaimed land that was once the Queen's Dock, one of over 62 ship-building facilities along the 20-mile stretch of the River Clyde. Adjacent to the Armadillo is the Finnieston Crane which was once used for ship-building, though is now just a landmark to days gone by in the city. But those days are not that far in the past because just downriver were some more cranes that are actively being used in the building of parts for two new aircraft carriers for the Royal Navy, and it is also the dock where the majority of the Navy's destroyers are built. And not too far away from the Science Center, on the other side of the Clyde, is the new city-run Transportation Museum - a fantastic and fun getaway where you can explore all sorts of old trains, subways, trams, cars, and other modes of transportation from all periods of time. Though it's kind of disorganized (massive vehicles everywhere!), I'm looking forward to going back and focusing on one mode of transportation. It definitely reminded me of the Henry Ford Museum at Greenfield Village near Detroit!
By that time, I was cold and really ready to go home. Take a look at some of the photos I took below, but before I finish this post off, there were a few other fun facts I learned on my bus tour:
Here are the photos:
This weekend was a fun one for me because it was really the first time I took the time to get out and see new parts of Glasgow. When I visited last December, everyone kept telling me that I had to visit the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Galleries. So after a quick haircut at a neighborhood barbershop (a very social place, and when I said I was from Michigan, the guy cutting my hair asked if it was in the South. We got a good laugh out of that and they liked how I could point to where I'm from on my hand), I made the short walk down to the Museum.
The Kelvingrove Museum is one of the city-owned and operated museums, which are regularly open and absolutely free to the public, which is fantastic because it's a beautiful museum! The old and ornate sandstone façade welcomes you into the main hall where right above your head, on the second floor, is a huge, breathtaking pipe organ in a carved wooden housing. There was a sign on the organ bench advertising a concert at 1 pm, and I got there with a few minutes to spare. What a surprise!
In the meantime, I headed upstairs and asked a docent where a good place to start my first tour of the museum would be. He gave me some advice and within seconds I was staring up at the original canvas painting of Christ of St. John on the Cross (thank you, Wikipedia). I followed the upstairs corridor around to a room full of Scottish artifacts and items belonging to such Scottish heroes as Robert Byrnes (Scotland's native poet and most renown national hero) and Mary Queen of Scots. One o'clock came around and and I picked out a good spot to watch the organ concert which aptly started off with Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (and it just shook the building!):
I wandered around a little while longer on Saturday at the museum, but soon went home. On Sunday, though, I got back out there and hopped onto one of those cheesy double-decker tour buses to get my official tour of Glasgow. I'd heard great things about the tour and was excited to learn a lot about the city. It was well worth it since you pay for your ticket, which is then valid for two days and you can hop on or off the bus at any of the 15-some stops. The morning was super sunny and warm-ish (6°C), so I dressed for that weather, but was later wishing I at least brought a hat since I sat outside the entire time to get some good photos without the smudges from the windows. Well, it eventually got really cold and I think I contracted either a chest-cold or pneumonia. The bus also went a little too fast for me to really absorb the info the audio tour was providing. An example went something like this (I'm going to paraphrase):
Look left as we pass through the intersection and you will see one of Glasgow's oldest buildings. It's architecture makes it one of a kind and when it was built it was beautiful and really cool.So I had my camera ready and the bus just flew through the intersection and I have no idea what I was supposed to be looking for! This is all besides the point. The fact is that it's a great way to see the city.
I even hopped off at the Glasgow Green, which is the oldest park in Glasgow and took a little tour through the People's Palace, a city-run museum covering all facets of Glasgow living from the early industrial days, to the tenement housing and city history. The housing bit was interesting because Glasgow's population in the late 19th century grew to huge numbers and the city was quickly overcrowded. The renovation of many neighborhoods and clearing of the old city tenements was one of the first major crackdowns on crime, poor living conditions, and disease control in the world, and was met with anger by thousands of people who believed the real reason the tenements were being shut down was to make room for housing that was out of their budget. Finally, there was a little exhibit on World War II and I learned that Glasgow had been severely damaged by German air raids and parts of the West End of town (my neighborhood) were bombed beyond repair. Attached to the People's Palace is the Winter Gardens, a tropical greenhouse with a nice little café and tons of lush vegetation. The Greens themselves are beautiful and spacious and are used for public events throughout the year from sporting matches to fireworks displays.
I got back on the bus and we passed the oldest house in Glasgow (the oldest building is the Cathedral) and made our way along the River Clyde where we crossed over the Squinty Bridge, Glasgow's newest motorway across the River Clyde, and over to the Science Center which I will have to return to eventually because not only has an IMAX theater, but the tallest structure in Scotland - the Glasgow Tower - is also there. Not only is it the tallest structure in Scotland, but it is also the only free-standing structure in the world able to rotate a full 360°!
Right across from the Science Center is the Clyde Auditorium, a massive building designed to represent the hulls of ships, but is now cleverly nicknamed, The Armadillo. The Armadillo is built on reclaimed land that was once the Queen's Dock, one of over 62 ship-building facilities along the 20-mile stretch of the River Clyde. Adjacent to the Armadillo is the Finnieston Crane which was once used for ship-building, though is now just a landmark to days gone by in the city. But those days are not that far in the past because just downriver were some more cranes that are actively being used in the building of parts for two new aircraft carriers for the Royal Navy, and it is also the dock where the majority of the Navy's destroyers are built. And not too far away from the Science Center, on the other side of the Clyde, is the new city-run Transportation Museum - a fantastic and fun getaway where you can explore all sorts of old trains, subways, trams, cars, and other modes of transportation from all periods of time. Though it's kind of disorganized (massive vehicles everywhere!), I'm looking forward to going back and focusing on one mode of transportation. It definitely reminded me of the Henry Ford Museum at Greenfield Village near Detroit!
By that time, I was cold and really ready to go home. Take a look at some of the photos I took below, but before I finish this post off, there were a few other fun facts I learned on my bus tour:
- Glasgow is the third largest city in the UK and in its heyday was the "2nd City of the Empire" next to London.
- The Glasgow Underground is the third oldest in the world and was originally pulled by an underground cable, which the driver had to clamp onto in order for the train to gain speed and the release the cable when it was going fast enough.
- At its peak, Glasgow was the main entry port for over half the tobacco coming to Europe from America because it took ships 20 fewer days to sail into Glasgow than into London. Tobacco magnates from Glasgow owned most of the land in tobacco growing states like Virginia.
- The Glasgow Cathedral is the only church to survive the Reformation and is the oldest building in the city.
- Glasgow has been cleaning up its buildings and image since smoke and soot poured down on the city during its industrial peak. Even the insides of buildings were covered in soot. Only after removing the soot and grime did many people realize that the stone buildings were of two main colors: a rose and a gold (see the photo below of Glasgow Uni and the Kelvingrove Museum for a good example!)
Here are the photos:
Thursday, February 16, 2012
It's the little things
Most things here in Scotland are not much different than home in the US. People speak english, the cuisine is not wildly exotic, and going to school here is the same as going to school at home. But there in lies the problem. If things were extremely different, I could use the, "What do I know? I'm just an ignorant foreigner," excuse, but because things are just slightly different, I get really really anxious when I'm out and about.
For example, the monetary system here is exactly the same as in the US: there are 100 pence in 1 pound, similar to 100 cents in 1 dollar. But here there are 5p, 10p, 20p, 50p, £1, and £2 coins and there are three major banks, each having their own designs for the various notes (£5, £10, £20, etc.). The £5 notes from one bank are worth the same as from the other two, but they just have a different design on them. Then, throw into the mix the fact that England produces their own notes - which are still the same value as the Scottish banks' notes. When I'm at a store or quick restaurant, it seems like everyone else just whips out exactly what they owe, but needless to say, it takes me a little bit longer to make sure that I'm paying the amount I should be. And that makes me a little anxious.
Even walking around is just different enough that I really have to pay attention to what's going on! In the US the traffic at a stoplight usually allows one direction of traffic (let's say east) to move at the same time as the oncoming traffic (west). And, simultaneously, pedestrians walking parallel to the traffic motion can cross the street. This continues until the moving traffic gets a red light and then the stopped traffic can start moving in the north and south directions. Here in Scotland, traffic moves in one direction at a time. For example, first all the northbound traffic gets the green light, then the eastbound traffic gets their turn, then the southbound, and westbound traffic. Only after all cars have their turn at the green light do pedestrians get to cross the street. But since all directions of traffic are stopped when pedestrians cross, you are allowed to walk diagonally across the intersection. Of course, this isn't the case at all intersections, so I need to watch out for that. Add into all of this the fact that traffic drives on the left-hand side of the road so sometimes I'm not entirely sure which way to look before crossing a street! I grew up always looking left before crossing a street first and then right because the immediate traffic comes from the left when you drive on the right-hand side of the road. So it's amazing how unnatural it feels having to make that conscious effort to look to my right first if I don't want to get hit by bus driving by!
And then there are gelatinous foods. Yes, while most of the food is similar to what is in the States, things here are just called something different, but I remember getting confused looks when once I mentioned peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You see, jelly in the US is not jelly here. When I say jelly, the Scots picture jell-o. So our jell-o is their jelly; our jelly is their jam; our jam is their jam-with-bits. And even when I get things right and say peanut butter and jam, they still think I'm kind of crazy! But they love ice cream and jelly (the jell-o/jelly), which I think is intriguing and will have to try. I've mentioned that I like my jelly (the jell-o/jelly) with bits of fruit in it or marshmallows and they like the idea of bits of fruit, but don't quite understand the marshmallow piece of it. I also mentioned that Jell-O and Bill Cosby are frequently associated with one another, but apparently he was not a spokesperson for jelly over here, so that association is met with blank stares. What we call pudding in the US is also definitely not a common snack over here; yet, they eat pudding all the time. It's just that the word "pudding" is used to classify any type of dessert food. Thus, restaurants will have a pudding menu but there will be no pudding (US-kind) on it!
So what all this boils down to, really, is that I'm getting along fine with the big changes of moving far away from anything immediately familiar and into a big city where you kind of have to keep an eye out for suspicious behavior while walking down the street. The little things, however, slow me down just enough for me to notice and feel like I'm inconveniencing the native Glaswegians. So if I do, well...just give me some time and I'll come around!
For example, the monetary system here is exactly the same as in the US: there are 100 pence in 1 pound, similar to 100 cents in 1 dollar. But here there are 5p, 10p, 20p, 50p, £1, and £2 coins and there are three major banks, each having their own designs for the various notes (£5, £10, £20, etc.). The £5 notes from one bank are worth the same as from the other two, but they just have a different design on them. Then, throw into the mix the fact that England produces their own notes - which are still the same value as the Scottish banks' notes. When I'm at a store or quick restaurant, it seems like everyone else just whips out exactly what they owe, but needless to say, it takes me a little bit longer to make sure that I'm paying the amount I should be. And that makes me a little anxious.
Even walking around is just different enough that I really have to pay attention to what's going on! In the US the traffic at a stoplight usually allows one direction of traffic (let's say east) to move at the same time as the oncoming traffic (west). And, simultaneously, pedestrians walking parallel to the traffic motion can cross the street. This continues until the moving traffic gets a red light and then the stopped traffic can start moving in the north and south directions. Here in Scotland, traffic moves in one direction at a time. For example, first all the northbound traffic gets the green light, then the eastbound traffic gets their turn, then the southbound, and westbound traffic. Only after all cars have their turn at the green light do pedestrians get to cross the street. But since all directions of traffic are stopped when pedestrians cross, you are allowed to walk diagonally across the intersection. Of course, this isn't the case at all intersections, so I need to watch out for that. Add into all of this the fact that traffic drives on the left-hand side of the road so sometimes I'm not entirely sure which way to look before crossing a street! I grew up always looking left before crossing a street first and then right because the immediate traffic comes from the left when you drive on the right-hand side of the road. So it's amazing how unnatural it feels having to make that conscious effort to look to my right first if I don't want to get hit by bus driving by!
And then there are gelatinous foods. Yes, while most of the food is similar to what is in the States, things here are just called something different, but I remember getting confused looks when once I mentioned peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You see, jelly in the US is not jelly here. When I say jelly, the Scots picture jell-o. So our jell-o is their jelly; our jelly is their jam; our jam is their jam-with-bits. And even when I get things right and say peanut butter and jam, they still think I'm kind of crazy! But they love ice cream and jelly (the jell-o/jelly), which I think is intriguing and will have to try. I've mentioned that I like my jelly (the jell-o/jelly) with bits of fruit in it or marshmallows and they like the idea of bits of fruit, but don't quite understand the marshmallow piece of it. I also mentioned that Jell-O and Bill Cosby are frequently associated with one another, but apparently he was not a spokesperson for jelly over here, so that association is met with blank stares. What we call pudding in the US is also definitely not a common snack over here; yet, they eat pudding all the time. It's just that the word "pudding" is used to classify any type of dessert food. Thus, restaurants will have a pudding menu but there will be no pudding (US-kind) on it!
So what all this boils down to, really, is that I'm getting along fine with the big changes of moving far away from anything immediately familiar and into a big city where you kind of have to keep an eye out for suspicious behavior while walking down the street. The little things, however, slow me down just enough for me to notice and feel like I'm inconveniencing the native Glaswegians. So if I do, well...just give me some time and I'll come around!
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Starting from scratch in a new land
Trip Date: January 30, 2012
I've done it! A few months ago, I took the opportunity to make an exploratory trip to the University of Glasgow in Scotland to think about starting my PhD in the geosciences. After my first day here back in December, there really wasn't too much convincing that needed to be done. Even in the pouring rain and chilly temperatures, I thought Glasgow was the natural next step on my life's journey.
Fast forward two months, and after waiting weeks for my new passport, getting my student visa, selling my car, and making the painstaking decision to use 60,000 of my frequent flyer miles to buy a ticket, my bags were packed and I was on my way here, to Glasgow, where I am now writing this blog post from my bedroom in the city's West End.
I have to apologize for not writing anything sooner (I've been here for almost two weeks now), but there has been a lot going on. Not being one to live an unplanned and disorganized, I agonized about not being able to set up a bank account, or find an apartment, or get a mobile phone before coming over. Finding a flat before coming here was difficult, mainly because I will only be here for a few months before moving to Australia for a year for school, and no one really wants to agree on such a short-term lease agreement. And you can't do much else, like buy a phone or get a bank account without a mailing address, so on my first night in town, I met up with a nice guy, Craig, to view a room in an apartment he owned.
From photos I saw online, the room looked really nice, but walking over to it was sort of my first glimpse of my new city and I was unsure of how a room that looked nice could be in what seemed to be a dodgy part of town. It's just amazing the types of misconceptions and cozy perfect little worlds we become familiar with. Glasgow is not a neat and pristine city; after all, it got its start as an industrial merchant and maritime city that was second only to London in the British Empire. Like all industrial cities, Glasgow has fallen on hard times, but has been making a comeback in recent years. The people who live here love it and like in cities such as Detroit or New Orleans, that love for the city forces you to enjoy the personality and people of a city rather than its outward appearance. Back to me looking for an apartment, it was a great space and not wanting to wait and look for other places to live, I told Craig that I'd love to rent the room, so we negotiated and came to an agreement.
I didn't stay there that night, as all of my things were at another postgrad's and her husband's apartment - they were so hospitable to allow me to stay with them until I had some other living arrangement figured out. So the next day, my goal was to shop for a bank account and get a mobile phone. The bank situation really wasn't too difficult, and within a few hours my first morning in Glasgow, I was all set with a basic current account (aka a checking account).
I met with my advisor that morning to go over a few other details and he helped get me situated in my desk which is one of twelve in a communal office space in the Gregory Building on campus. The School of Geographical and Earth Sciences is fairly large at the University and comprised of human and physical geographers and earth scientists. The School's main offices are in the main University building, in the East Quad - built in 1860.
I've done it! A few months ago, I took the opportunity to make an exploratory trip to the University of Glasgow in Scotland to think about starting my PhD in the geosciences. After my first day here back in December, there really wasn't too much convincing that needed to be done. Even in the pouring rain and chilly temperatures, I thought Glasgow was the natural next step on my life's journey.
Fast forward two months, and after waiting weeks for my new passport, getting my student visa, selling my car, and making the painstaking decision to use 60,000 of my frequent flyer miles to buy a ticket, my bags were packed and I was on my way here, to Glasgow, where I am now writing this blog post from my bedroom in the city's West End.
I have to apologize for not writing anything sooner (I've been here for almost two weeks now), but there has been a lot going on. Not being one to live an unplanned and disorganized, I agonized about not being able to set up a bank account, or find an apartment, or get a mobile phone before coming over. Finding a flat before coming here was difficult, mainly because I will only be here for a few months before moving to Australia for a year for school, and no one really wants to agree on such a short-term lease agreement. And you can't do much else, like buy a phone or get a bank account without a mailing address, so on my first night in town, I met up with a nice guy, Craig, to view a room in an apartment he owned.
From photos I saw online, the room looked really nice, but walking over to it was sort of my first glimpse of my new city and I was unsure of how a room that looked nice could be in what seemed to be a dodgy part of town. It's just amazing the types of misconceptions and cozy perfect little worlds we become familiar with. Glasgow is not a neat and pristine city; after all, it got its start as an industrial merchant and maritime city that was second only to London in the British Empire. Like all industrial cities, Glasgow has fallen on hard times, but has been making a comeback in recent years. The people who live here love it and like in cities such as Detroit or New Orleans, that love for the city forces you to enjoy the personality and people of a city rather than its outward appearance. Back to me looking for an apartment, it was a great space and not wanting to wait and look for other places to live, I told Craig that I'd love to rent the room, so we negotiated and came to an agreement.
I didn't stay there that night, as all of my things were at another postgrad's and her husband's apartment - they were so hospitable to allow me to stay with them until I had some other living arrangement figured out. So the next day, my goal was to shop for a bank account and get a mobile phone. The bank situation really wasn't too difficult, and within a few hours my first morning in Glasgow, I was all set with a basic current account (aka a checking account).
I met with my advisor that morning to go over a few other details and he helped get me situated in my desk which is one of twelve in a communal office space in the Gregory Building on campus. The School of Geographical and Earth Sciences is fairly large at the University and comprised of human and physical geographers and earth scientists. The School's main offices are in the main University building, in the East Quad - built in 1860.
 |
| The central focus of the main University building is the tower overlooking the cloisters of the East and West Quads |
Unfortunately for me, historical preservation of the building required that no laboratory space requiring fume hoods could be put into the East Quad, so that's where all the physical and human geographers have their offices while the earth scientists' offices are in a much more boring (architecturally) building. But it's a good work space. When I need to get work done, I can; but it's not like a dead zone where no one talks. Very conducive to studying! I then finished registering with the University to make sure that they know I am here and that my living stipend will actually be deposited into my current account (which it did!).
Later that evening, I moved all of my things into my new flat, which really didn't take long. It's kind of amazing/sad to know that I was able to pack so little. On one hand, it's nice that I am not weighed down by tons of useless little knick-knacks. On the other hand, I did have to leave some things back in Michigan like photos of family and books. But most of the important photos are on my computer anyway, and once I get a more permanent place to stay either in Australia or when I return to Glasgow, I will be able to set up my life a little more.
Apartment? Check. Bank? Check. Office? Check. There was just one last item on my list of things I wanted to do: get my phone.
I love my iPhone. There is no getting around that. In fact, last February, after I had my iPhone pick-pocketed on my way to the Berlin airport, and even though I was feeling wretched from food poisoning on my return flight, I stopped at AT&T just to get a new one. But it's more than a phone to me; it's a camera, access to e-mails, iPod, and my mobile life-line back to my family and friends in the states. So I figured that since numerous cellular companies carry the iPhone, it would not be a problem getting a SIM card for it. Well, I think I was on one of the wildest goose chases of my life!
The problem with my phone is that it is "locked" - I can't use it to access the cellular networks over here unless I got it unlocked. But before a phone can be unlocked, it's internal computer code must be altered through a process called jailbreaking (which, by the way, is all perfectly legal if doing this for personal use). The first store I went to said he couldn't unlock my phone because it is a 4G and apparently he could only unlock 3Gs. I thought that was wrong, so I brought it to a mobile phone store and they said it was possible to have my phone unlocked, but that they could not legally do it. So feeling a little defeated, I went home that night and browsed Reddit for a while until I found what seemed to be the most reputable method of unlocking my phone. An hour later, it seemed like I was successful. Now I just needed to wait until the next day to buy a SIM card and plug it in.
The next day came around and I stopped back at the cell phone store and bought my SIM card, which the clerk advised may take anywhere from 2-24 hours to pick up the signal from the network. Needless to say, every hour for the next 24 hours, I was checking my phone and turning it on and off to see if my unlocking was successful. I was not in luck. I did a little more research online and found something that said that my network carrier back in the states were the only people who could successfully unlock my phone. So I bought some Skype credits and called AT&T, explained my new living situation, and asked if they had the capabilities to unlock my phone, to which they replied, "No, I'm sorry. We can't do that, but Apple can." Luckily for me, Glasgow has an Apple store downtown, so half an hour later, after buying an Underground ticket, I found myself at the Apple store being told, "No, I'm sorry. We can't do that, but your US network provider can."
I was outraged. Everyone kept telling me that it could be done, but that they could not do it for me! Furious and frustrated, the next day I went to the O2 store near campus (O2 is the network provider for the SIM card I bought). I asked the guy behind the counter if he knew anything about unlocking iPhones. The guy was very nice and took a look at my phone, tried using a different SIM card to see if the one I bought was faulty, but it was not. He then told me of a phone shop downtown (a hole-in-the-wall place where mobile phones and pay-as-you-go phone plans were sold). I was told that if the folks at the downtown phone store couldn't help me out, no one in Glasgow would be able to. And soon I found myself back on the Tube going downtown, trying to find this phone shop. Much to my chagrin, it turns out the phone shop I was looking for closed down about a month ago. Again, out of luck.
I turned back to the internet that night trying to find a solution to my problem. And then it came to me; the answer was as clear as day. Different iPhones, operating on different versions of the iOS operating system, are programmed with different "base codes." Hackers have found ways to unlock iPhone 4Gs with some base codes, but not others, and lo and behold, my phone's base code is one that has not yet been unlcocked. I would not be able to use my iPhone here in the UK. Still upset, I decided it would be best for me to trade in the phone I have for an earlier version with less memory, get that phone unlocked, and then put the SIM card I bought into the "new" phone. I found myself back at the mobile phone store, and was ready to pay another £150 for a downgraded version of my phone. I asked them, "When I go to Australia in a few months, will I be able to get a SIM card there and use their cell network?" And they told me, "No, as soon as you put a new SIM card in your phone here, it sets the base code and won't work down there." Dead end. Fine. End of Story. I realized it was just going to be too much of a hassle to continue this quest (not to mention expensive), and I was sick of not being able to get in touch with people I met because I didn't have a phone.
So really, what this all boils down to is that I spent a good three or four days trying to make the impossible happen and ended up just getting a cheap brick-of-a-phone that will have to suffice until hackers successfully unlock my phone's base code. Only then will I be able to use my beloved iPhone to keep in touch with the world.
Life has been a bit simpler since I ended that quest, and I'm learning to live back in the dark ages without a smartphone in my pocket all the time. As I near the first two week mark of my new life outside the US, routine is settling back into my life, and even though I've had to start from scratch, my life is slowly returning to a state of normalcy.
I haven't really taken too many photos yet, mostly because I haven't had the time to really go out and do anything worth photographing. But I promise, they'll come. Sooner or later, they will come. I have more stories from these first two weeks, too, but I'll update those in the next few days. Until then...
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Welkom in Amsterdam
Date Traveled: December 4, 2011
I left Glasgow on Saturday morning (the 3rd) and shortly landed at the KLM/Delta European hub, the Schipol Airport near Amsterdam. My flight schedule had me on a 24-hour layover in Amsterdam (my choice) and I fully intended to enjoy some time in the city. Before I left for Glasgow, I booked a bed at a hostel on the outside of the city center, but right next to the museum campus. I was hoping to find something closer to the city center, but many hostels won't let you book a single bed over a weekend for just one night; instead, you have to book a minimum of 2-3 nights. Getting to the hostel wasn't bad, though. Once I got through customs, it was pretty easy for me to find a ticket agent and buy a round-trip train ticket, though the woman behind the counter gave me a look of disdain when I started speaking in English.
The train system was familiar since I spent so much time in Berlin earlier this year, and no more than twenty minutes later, I arrived at the main train station in downtown Amsterdam. It's a beautiful building, architecturally, though much of it was covered in scaffolding and being refurbished. I bought a street map of the city from the Tourist Information center just across the street from Centraal Station. Though it was early in the afternoon, the sky was getting a little cloudy and started to rain a little bit, but it didn't bother me as I started wandering through the streets of Amsterdam.
I didn't take too much time to get lost in the city because I wanted to get to my hostel and check in, making sure I had a bed for that night. A number of trams and buses run throughout the city and there is a subway system set up, though it doesn't really get you many places in the city, but I decided to walk. Afterall, it didn't look far, and I was short on change. I did find out before I went about the I Amsterdam card, which give you total access to any public transportation system as well as access to dozens of museums around the city. I thought about purchasing this card, but even for the 1-day offer, it was going to be more expensive than walking and buying my entrance to the one museum I had time for.
Amsterdam is one of those fantastically cool, walkable, friendly, cheery, beautiful cities. It is of course famous for its extensive series of canals, which were recently added to the UNESCO list of culturally significant sites. One of the other things that immediately stands out as being unique among European cities is the architecture of the houses, the majority of which can't be more than 15-feet wide. Though skinny, each building is deep and rises 4-5 stories above street-level, and is crowned by a little ornamental façade. Naturally, this design made it difficult to move large pieces of furniture up and down stairs, so many of the houses have a pulley system in place near the roof line so that you could hoist large items up and through windows. And of course there are the canals - beautifully lined with trees along the sidewalk and boats in the water. I've never been to Venice, and while I imagine it is more austere, Amsterdam's canals just seemed inviting and quaint.
I got to my hostel, the Hotel Annemarie, and had a little problem checking in because I thought I paid for everything online at www.hostelworld.com, but it turns out they only take the deposit and you have to pay the rest upon arrival - but the hostel may or may not take credit cards. Such was the case and I had to run around the corner to find an geldautomat (ATM) and get some money. Wasn't too big of a deal, but I also had to put to a refundable deposit for my key, which was just slightly annoying. But the host at the hostel was a very cheery man with a more than friendly disposition and every time I saw him he asked me by name, "Eric, how is your stay? Eric, how are the rooms? Eric, is there anything I can do for you?" And to be fair to the 75% rating on hostelworld.com, Hotel Annemarie was very nice - definitely not a party hostel.
I went up to my bed - one of eight in the room - and took advantage of the free wifi and tried calling home with my computer. But it turns out that voice calling from the Gmail chat window has been modified and it is no longer free to call the US internationally... So I checked my email, made my bed, and then put my things in my backpack and headed out to check out a museum while they were still open. Most close at 6pm on a daily basis, so I didn't have much time. Luckily, Hotel Annemarie is adjacent to the museum campus where the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum are located.
My first instinct was to go to the Van Gogh Museum and get my fill of the renowned artist, but I ran into another snafu because I didn't have much cash and the minimum to use a card was 25-euro... Luckily, the Rijksmuseum is just down the street and I was easily able to get in. The Rijksmuseum is a clearinghouse for all things Dutch. It covers aspects of Dutch history, culture, and art and has many fascinating displays. The museum has been undergoing a series of renovations so the majority of the museum is inaccessible; instead, they've had to condense their art and artifacts down to the most popular.
I had to go through fairly quickly, but was able to learn that the Netherlands gained its independence from Spain in the 1500s and refers to various autonomous regions within the political confines of what we recognize today. Holland, though synonymous with the Netherlands, is really just one of those autonomous regions. Anyway, the Netherlands quickly became a powerhouse of sea-trading and exploration, colonizing parts of North America (New Amsterdam became New York City), South America (Suriname), Africa (parts of South Africa), and southeast Asia (Indonesia). Somewhere along the way, the Netherlands transitioned into being governed by a monarchy...I missed that transition, though - or maybe that display was in the closed-off portion of the museum?
The tour then brought me through a few rooms complete with jewelery, gems, and other fancy accoutrements of the rich and famous and a room full of delftware, a type of blue and white ceramic in which pictures of Dutch life, designs, flowers, and landscapes are depicted.
But the main attraction at the Rijksmuseum is the vast artwork collection with pieces by Rembrandt, Vermeer, Hals, and Steen. I am not an art historian and don't really understand the intricacies of the various media or techniques used, but I can appreciate the talent that goes into portraying the Dutch landscapes, the symbolism represented in various party scenes, the detail in portraits, and the sheer magnitude of the museum's most famous piece, Rembrandt's "The Night Watch" - a huge 12-by-14 foot mural of guardsmen from Amsterdam's upper-crust. It's a beautifully detailed painting that is somehow still around today after being trimmed down on three sides when it was moved to a secondary location that wasn't as big as its original and then more recently being ripped apart in places after a deranged man slashed through the painting in many places with a knife.
I left the museum right around closing time at 6pm, and didn't really feel like walking all the way back into town for a night out by myself, so I grabbed some food from a nearby grocery store and went back to my hostel to eat. Back in my room, three girls from Spain were getting ready for their night out on the town, but the other beds were empty. This was good news because it meant that our room was maybe not going to be too crowded. Sure, I might have to deal with them coming back late that night, but I could put up with that. I finished reading my book and checked emails until my battery ran out, but by that time, a giggly and talkative group of French students (and one Swede) came into the room speaking the whole time in French. I tried to just ignore them, but one of the guys and I chatted for a little bit. They were confused why I was staying at a hostel in Amsterdam but wasn't going out for the night. I tried explaining that I was on business (of sorts) and just here during a layover. I don't think they understood. They continued to get ready while I, running out of things to do, pretended to study a map of the city.
They eventually left, apologizing in advance for when they came back later that night, and I tried to get as much sleep as possible because I knew that later on, when everyone returned, I'd be woken up again. Well, the Spanish girls did not return, which I thought was weird, but it was good because there weren't enough beds for me, the three of them, and the five french students, and when the students returned they were loud, but not obnoxiously and I prepared for the light by putting my airplane eye-shades on. Wasn't too bad.
I wanted to wear ear plugs, too, but I wouldn't have heard my alarms go off on my iPhone, which I had tucked into the hood of my jacket hanging off the post of my bunk bed. I ended up waking up before my alarm went off and decided to be nice to my roommates and turned my alarms off before hopping in the shower so they wouldn't be woken up either. I took my shower and started packing my bag in the dark so I wouldn't bother them by turning on a light, and nearly had everything together when I went to put my iPhone in my pocket...but it wasn't there in my jacket's hood where I left it. I felt through all the pockets in my jacket to see if I just misplaced it. But I was positive it had been in my hood because that's where I put it when I turned my alarms off so my roommates wouldn't be woken by it. It just wasn't there. I thought maybe I left it in the pockets in my shorts, so I emptied my backpack and checked everywhere. Couldn't be found. I checked my jacket again, and then shook my sheets, and then my backpack again. Jacket. Backpack. Jacket. Backpack. It was nowhere to be found. I started getting really psyched out that someone, again, had stolen my iPhone, exactly like what happened when I was on my way to the Berlin airport earlier this year.
I started to freak out and I turned on one of the lights, which woke up one of the French girls, so I muttered, "Désolé. J'ai perdu mon mobile." She asked me to let the cat out of the room because it was bothering her. When did a cat come into the room? So I let it out and continued my search. Maybe it fell into the sheets of one of the two beds below? I couldn't quite justify rummaging my hands through the beds where a girl in one and a guy in the other were sleeping, so I flattened myself on the floor and rechecked under the beds. There, with the light on, I could see a little box-like thing near the wall under the bed. It was my phone! I grabbed it just to make sure, let out a big sigh of relief, and stuffed everything back into my backpack and headed downstairs for a meager breakfast of toast and jam.
It wasn't that late and I was going to make my flight, no worries, but I quickly left the hostel and started my way back to Centraal Station. But what good is a stay in Amsterdam without a visit to the Red Light District? The district is famous for its provocative nightlife and adult entertainment, but is also home to museums, art galleries, family houses, churches, cafés, and shops. Of course, being Sunday morning, nothing was open, but it made my visit even cooler because it was like walking through a ghost town...or at least like walking down Bourbon Street in New Orleans the morning after during Mardi Gras!
Amsterdam was such a beautiful city, I am sorry I only had such a little amount of time to spend there, but it is definitely worth going back to with friends or family - someone else to enjoy it with me and experience all it has to offer.
I left Glasgow on Saturday morning (the 3rd) and shortly landed at the KLM/Delta European hub, the Schipol Airport near Amsterdam. My flight schedule had me on a 24-hour layover in Amsterdam (my choice) and I fully intended to enjoy some time in the city. Before I left for Glasgow, I booked a bed at a hostel on the outside of the city center, but right next to the museum campus. I was hoping to find something closer to the city center, but many hostels won't let you book a single bed over a weekend for just one night; instead, you have to book a minimum of 2-3 nights. Getting to the hostel wasn't bad, though. Once I got through customs, it was pretty easy for me to find a ticket agent and buy a round-trip train ticket, though the woman behind the counter gave me a look of disdain when I started speaking in English.
The train system was familiar since I spent so much time in Berlin earlier this year, and no more than twenty minutes later, I arrived at the main train station in downtown Amsterdam. It's a beautiful building, architecturally, though much of it was covered in scaffolding and being refurbished. I bought a street map of the city from the Tourist Information center just across the street from Centraal Station. Though it was early in the afternoon, the sky was getting a little cloudy and started to rain a little bit, but it didn't bother me as I started wandering through the streets of Amsterdam.
I didn't take too much time to get lost in the city because I wanted to get to my hostel and check in, making sure I had a bed for that night. A number of trams and buses run throughout the city and there is a subway system set up, though it doesn't really get you many places in the city, but I decided to walk. Afterall, it didn't look far, and I was short on change. I did find out before I went about the I Amsterdam card, which give you total access to any public transportation system as well as access to dozens of museums around the city. I thought about purchasing this card, but even for the 1-day offer, it was going to be more expensive than walking and buying my entrance to the one museum I had time for.
Amsterdam is one of those fantastically cool, walkable, friendly, cheery, beautiful cities. It is of course famous for its extensive series of canals, which were recently added to the UNESCO list of culturally significant sites. One of the other things that immediately stands out as being unique among European cities is the architecture of the houses, the majority of which can't be more than 15-feet wide. Though skinny, each building is deep and rises 4-5 stories above street-level, and is crowned by a little ornamental façade. Naturally, this design made it difficult to move large pieces of furniture up and down stairs, so many of the houses have a pulley system in place near the roof line so that you could hoist large items up and through windows. And of course there are the canals - beautifully lined with trees along the sidewalk and boats in the water. I've never been to Venice, and while I imagine it is more austere, Amsterdam's canals just seemed inviting and quaint.
 |
| Tree-lined canal in Amsterdam |
I went up to my bed - one of eight in the room - and took advantage of the free wifi and tried calling home with my computer. But it turns out that voice calling from the Gmail chat window has been modified and it is no longer free to call the US internationally... So I checked my email, made my bed, and then put my things in my backpack and headed out to check out a museum while they were still open. Most close at 6pm on a daily basis, so I didn't have much time. Luckily, Hotel Annemarie is adjacent to the museum campus where the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum are located.
My first instinct was to go to the Van Gogh Museum and get my fill of the renowned artist, but I ran into another snafu because I didn't have much cash and the minimum to use a card was 25-euro... Luckily, the Rijksmuseum is just down the street and I was easily able to get in. The Rijksmuseum is a clearinghouse for all things Dutch. It covers aspects of Dutch history, culture, and art and has many fascinating displays. The museum has been undergoing a series of renovations so the majority of the museum is inaccessible; instead, they've had to condense their art and artifacts down to the most popular.
I had to go through fairly quickly, but was able to learn that the Netherlands gained its independence from Spain in the 1500s and refers to various autonomous regions within the political confines of what we recognize today. Holland, though synonymous with the Netherlands, is really just one of those autonomous regions. Anyway, the Netherlands quickly became a powerhouse of sea-trading and exploration, colonizing parts of North America (New Amsterdam became New York City), South America (Suriname), Africa (parts of South Africa), and southeast Asia (Indonesia). Somewhere along the way, the Netherlands transitioned into being governed by a monarchy...I missed that transition, though - or maybe that display was in the closed-off portion of the museum?
The tour then brought me through a few rooms complete with jewelery, gems, and other fancy accoutrements of the rich and famous and a room full of delftware, a type of blue and white ceramic in which pictures of Dutch life, designs, flowers, and landscapes are depicted.
But the main attraction at the Rijksmuseum is the vast artwork collection with pieces by Rembrandt, Vermeer, Hals, and Steen. I am not an art historian and don't really understand the intricacies of the various media or techniques used, but I can appreciate the talent that goes into portraying the Dutch landscapes, the symbolism represented in various party scenes, the detail in portraits, and the sheer magnitude of the museum's most famous piece, Rembrandt's "The Night Watch" - a huge 12-by-14 foot mural of guardsmen from Amsterdam's upper-crust. It's a beautifully detailed painting that is somehow still around today after being trimmed down on three sides when it was moved to a secondary location that wasn't as big as its original and then more recently being ripped apart in places after a deranged man slashed through the painting in many places with a knife.
 |
| Rembrandt's The Night Watch in the Rijksmuseum (photo: Rijksmuseum.nl) |
They eventually left, apologizing in advance for when they came back later that night, and I tried to get as much sleep as possible because I knew that later on, when everyone returned, I'd be woken up again. Well, the Spanish girls did not return, which I thought was weird, but it was good because there weren't enough beds for me, the three of them, and the five french students, and when the students returned they were loud, but not obnoxiously and I prepared for the light by putting my airplane eye-shades on. Wasn't too bad.
I wanted to wear ear plugs, too, but I wouldn't have heard my alarms go off on my iPhone, which I had tucked into the hood of my jacket hanging off the post of my bunk bed. I ended up waking up before my alarm went off and decided to be nice to my roommates and turned my alarms off before hopping in the shower so they wouldn't be woken up either. I took my shower and started packing my bag in the dark so I wouldn't bother them by turning on a light, and nearly had everything together when I went to put my iPhone in my pocket...but it wasn't there in my jacket's hood where I left it. I felt through all the pockets in my jacket to see if I just misplaced it. But I was positive it had been in my hood because that's where I put it when I turned my alarms off so my roommates wouldn't be woken by it. It just wasn't there. I thought maybe I left it in the pockets in my shorts, so I emptied my backpack and checked everywhere. Couldn't be found. I checked my jacket again, and then shook my sheets, and then my backpack again. Jacket. Backpack. Jacket. Backpack. It was nowhere to be found. I started getting really psyched out that someone, again, had stolen my iPhone, exactly like what happened when I was on my way to the Berlin airport earlier this year.
I started to freak out and I turned on one of the lights, which woke up one of the French girls, so I muttered, "Désolé. J'ai perdu mon mobile." She asked me to let the cat out of the room because it was bothering her. When did a cat come into the room? So I let it out and continued my search. Maybe it fell into the sheets of one of the two beds below? I couldn't quite justify rummaging my hands through the beds where a girl in one and a guy in the other were sleeping, so I flattened myself on the floor and rechecked under the beds. There, with the light on, I could see a little box-like thing near the wall under the bed. It was my phone! I grabbed it just to make sure, let out a big sigh of relief, and stuffed everything back into my backpack and headed downstairs for a meager breakfast of toast and jam.
It wasn't that late and I was going to make my flight, no worries, but I quickly left the hostel and started my way back to Centraal Station. But what good is a stay in Amsterdam without a visit to the Red Light District? The district is famous for its provocative nightlife and adult entertainment, but is also home to museums, art galleries, family houses, churches, cafés, and shops. Of course, being Sunday morning, nothing was open, but it made my visit even cooler because it was like walking through a ghost town...or at least like walking down Bourbon Street in New Orleans the morning after during Mardi Gras!
 |
| The famous I amsterdam statue outside the Rijksmuseum. They were filling the fountain in front of it with water for an ice rink, so I couldn't get a head-on shot. Seems like 8am on a Sunday is the only time when it's not covered in tourists! |
 |
| Old mansions lining the outermost of the concentric canals, separating the main downtown area and the museum district. |
 |
| The National Monument commemorating WWII |
 |
| The Oude Kerk, the oldest Gothic monument in Amsterdam, dates back to the 1200s, though it has undergone many enlargements since. It is an island of sanctity in the heart of the Red Light district :) |
 |
| Typical façades lining the canal in the Red Light District |
 |
| Amsterdam's Centraal Station. BEAUTIFUL train station. |
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Glasgow and the Necropolis
Dates Traveled: November 28 - December 3, 2011
Part 2 of 3
The next few days were uneventful in the sense that I did not really do a whole lot. I did meet with students from Uni Glasgow and chatted about student life at the University as well as with colleagues to discuss the project I'd potentially be working on. I thought about trying to get downtown on the 30th, but public workers were all on strike, so trains were shut down and buses were limited, so I decided to stay near the West End of Glasgow, near campus. I grabbed a sandwich for lunch from a grocery store and wandered into the Botanical Gardens nearby. Though the main building was closed due to the strike, a secondary greenhouse (or glass house) was open and I found a bench and just relaxed for a bit.
That afternoon, I met with a bunch of current students who really gave me a feel for what living in Glasgow and working at the University was like. They were great and answered a lot of questions I had. And then later in the evening, I got more of a tour of the department by two students who then also took me out for a brew and more chatting at a local eat-and-drinkery in an old theater that has since been converted into a very spacious restaurant and bar. Very cool little alley off the main road called Ashton Lane with lots of little restaurants, bars, and a movie theater - clearly a local hang-out for anyone in the West End.
It was back to the hotel for me after that and I worked on my presentation for a little bit before nodding off to sleep. The next day (Thursday) was more open for me, schedule-wise, and since the strike was over, I decided to make my way downtown. The weather cleared up, so it was sunny, albeit chilly. I walked to the downtown area from campus. It's kind of hard to get a feel for a city with such little time, but Glasgow definitely seemed to be a lively city. I didn't really see a whole lot, but I at least walked through the main shopping area, past the city hall and plaza, and then up and over to the Glasgow Cathedral, which is a site! The Cathedral is formerly a Catholic church and is one of the few churches to have survived the Protestant Reformation. When reformers came to the church, wanting to tear it down because of what it stood for, the citizens of Glasgow protested and successfully saved the grand structure. Across from the Cathedral is the Glasgow Necropolis - one of the most unique cemeteries I've ever seen. In Glasgow's heyday, this was the burial place for the wealthy entrepreneurs and merchants and other Glaswegians in high-standing. The Necropolis is famous for its Victorian architecture in the numerous and marvelous tombs, crypts, and mausoleums. Originally planned as a park and garden that would "improve the morals and tastes of Glaswegians" (according to an information placard), the Necropolis still exhibits its original grandeur.
The sun began setting and I needed to get back to the hotel so I could finish working on my presentation, so I hopped on the Glasgow Underground to get back to the West End. Down in the tunnel, waiting for the train, I was expecting to see an industrially boxy train come rolling into the station or maybe even a newer, sleeker train slide up next to the platform. But when the train did come through, the first words that came to my mind were, "Oh, that's cute."
Friday was my last day in Glasgow, and it was full of meetings, tours, interviews, and my presentation, which went really well, considering I haven't really presented my research since I was in Australia earlier this year! Saturday morning came early and I took the Underground back into town and hopped a bus to get out to the airport to return home. It was a short trip to Glasgow, but it was so positive that I'm really looking forward to potentially being able to spend more time there in the future! So much to do and see and I really didn't have the time to do it all. I'll be coming back for sure someday - and it may be sooner rather than later, but that decision has yet to be made.
Before actually getting home to Michigan, my flight dropped me off back in Amsterdam where I had a 24-hour layover and will write more about that tomorrow!
Part 2 of 3
The next few days were uneventful in the sense that I did not really do a whole lot. I did meet with students from Uni Glasgow and chatted about student life at the University as well as with colleagues to discuss the project I'd potentially be working on. I thought about trying to get downtown on the 30th, but public workers were all on strike, so trains were shut down and buses were limited, so I decided to stay near the West End of Glasgow, near campus. I grabbed a sandwich for lunch from a grocery store and wandered into the Botanical Gardens nearby. Though the main building was closed due to the strike, a secondary greenhouse (or glass house) was open and I found a bench and just relaxed for a bit.
 |
| Inside one of the glass houses at the Glasgow Botanical Gardens |
 | |
| Ashton Lane at night |
 |
| Kelvingrove Museum |
 |
| University of Glasgow Main Building up on the hill |
 |
| Clever speed sign. Couldn't find any for other speeds, so I don't know if they also rhyme |
 |
| Glasgow city hall |
 |
| George Square, the plaza in front of the city hall, is getting all prepped for Christmas festivities |
 |
| Glasgow Cathedral |
 |
| In the Necropolis, this is the grave of the author of the nursery rhyme, Wee Willie Winky! |
 |
| View of Glasgow and the Cathedral from the Necropolis |
 |
| Grave markers up on the Necropolis |
 |
| Mausoleums on the Necropolis |
 |
| More of the Necropolis |
 |
| Main window of the Cathedral |
 |
| Glasgow Cathedral from the front |
 |
| Refurbished in the late 1970s, the Glasgow Underground hasn't changed much. Very small cars that you really have to duck to get into. It's a fun little ride that gets you from Point A to Point B. |
Before actually getting home to Michigan, my flight dropped me off back in Amsterdam where I had a 24-hour layover and will write more about that tomorrow!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Welcome to the Land of Bagpipes
Dates Traveled: November 28 - December 3, 2011
Part 1 of 3
Any recent graduate knows that this is not a fun time to be on the job-hunt. After applying and applying all summer and fall, moving to Chicago for a few weeks, and going to conferences to network, I finally experienced a little bit of forward motion in my otherwise stagnant life. After I went to the Geological Society of America's annual conference in Minneapolis in October, my former advisor from Vermont emailed me to inform me of a very unique opportunity to get my Ph.D. Dylan, one of our colleagues who went with us to Greenland, mentioned a project he was going to be a co-supervisor on when he completed his move to a job at a lab facility near Glasgow, in Scotland. Working with colleagues at the University of Glasgow, they were all looking for Ph.D candidates to work on a project, jointly funded by Macquarie University in Sydney, Australia - where I gave a talk earlier this year while on my Australian adventures.
Anyway, after much consideration, I decided to apply to the Ph.D position and opened lines off communication to those involved. And with luck (and a good application package), I was invited to Glasgow to learn more about the project, meet my potential supervisors, tour the University, the town, and other facilities, give a presentation on my research, and meet students in the Geology program there. Not being one to pass up an opportunity like that, I quickly agreed and shortly after Thanksgiving, was gearing to go.
Now, when I was looking for flights, the cheapest I could find were out of Chicago O'Hare, and so I planned on doing my usual hop, skip, and jump to get to the airport which involves driving to Michigan City, taking the commuter train into Millennium Station, and then taking the Blue Line all the way out to O'Hare. It's complicated and you have to get the timing just right, but with free parking at the train station in Michigan City, what better way to get in and out of the city! Well, since I packed last minute, I woke up on Monday morning and was late getting on the road because I had to pick up my power adapter from my brother's house, which took me an extra twenty minutes, and by that time I was running late for the train - like half an hour late! Speeding down the highway, trying to keep a sharp eye out for police, I barely parked my car and bought my ticket when the train pulled up. I was safe!
The flight to Amsterdam from Chicago was uneventful. I was reading a good book (Room by Emma Donoghue) and watched a few movies - like I said, it was uneventful. We landed at 6-something in the morning on Tuesday and I had a three-hour layover in Amsterdam. I got to my departure gate and once again dove into my book. All of a sudden, a Dutch accent came over the PA system saying, "Passenger, Eric Portenga, traveling to Glasgow, you are delaying the flight. Please report immediately to gate D41 or we will remove your luggage." Well, that caught me off guard (and I was slightly appalled since the Dutch person totally butchered the pronunciation of my Dutch last name) and I bolted from my current gate to D41. I apparently missed the announcement that our flight had a gate change... Once at gate D41, I quickly stripped down to get through the metal detector, chugged the water that was in my Nalgene, splattering it all over myself, gave my passport and boarding pass to the gate agent, and got on the plane. Phew! I made it!
When we landed in Glasgow, it was rainy, and cloudy, and cold, but I got through customs just fine and met with Paul, my potential advisor, who drove me into the city to my hotel where I left my luggage, and then up to the University.
The University of Glasgow is the fourth oldest university in the English-speaking world (behind the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and St. Andrew's), founded in 1451. It has since maintained a reputation of producing high-end research in many scientific fields. In fact, the chemist and Nobel Laureate Frederick Soddy, who "discovered" the isotope, was a lecturer at the University. It was at a dinner party at a house across the street from campus where he put forth his ideas of isotopes and a woman at the party (Margaret Todd) suggested he called them isotopes - Latin for "same place." Credit has been given to Margaret Todd for her nomenclative skills, but the Nobel Prize went to Soddy for his recognition of these particles.
The campus was beautiful, though completely drenched, and after chatting with Paul in his office for a little while, I took a stroll around campus until my socks got soaked, went back to my hotel to change, before meeting with him once more in the afternoon. During the afternoon visit, the rain cleared up a bit and I heard a familiar drone which clarified that I was truly in Scotland: Bagpipes! That Tuesday and Wednesday, there would be a number of small graduation ceremonies and graduates in their gowns taking photos in the Quad, all led, of course, by that ever-haunting instrument. I loved it!! Dylan and his wife Daisy, flew in that afternoon as well for one last visit before their final move to Glasgow, and we met up for dinner that evening in the West End at a fantastic Indian restaurant (because Glasgow is known for their curries for some odd reason). After one last drink at a pub inside a refurbished church - complete with theater and club upstairs, we headed back to our hotel and I fell asleep immediately! Jetlag was not nice to me today.
Part 1 of 3
Any recent graduate knows that this is not a fun time to be on the job-hunt. After applying and applying all summer and fall, moving to Chicago for a few weeks, and going to conferences to network, I finally experienced a little bit of forward motion in my otherwise stagnant life. After I went to the Geological Society of America's annual conference in Minneapolis in October, my former advisor from Vermont emailed me to inform me of a very unique opportunity to get my Ph.D. Dylan, one of our colleagues who went with us to Greenland, mentioned a project he was going to be a co-supervisor on when he completed his move to a job at a lab facility near Glasgow, in Scotland. Working with colleagues at the University of Glasgow, they were all looking for Ph.D candidates to work on a project, jointly funded by Macquarie University in Sydney, Australia - where I gave a talk earlier this year while on my Australian adventures.
Anyway, after much consideration, I decided to apply to the Ph.D position and opened lines off communication to those involved. And with luck (and a good application package), I was invited to Glasgow to learn more about the project, meet my potential supervisors, tour the University, the town, and other facilities, give a presentation on my research, and meet students in the Geology program there. Not being one to pass up an opportunity like that, I quickly agreed and shortly after Thanksgiving, was gearing to go.
Now, when I was looking for flights, the cheapest I could find were out of Chicago O'Hare, and so I planned on doing my usual hop, skip, and jump to get to the airport which involves driving to Michigan City, taking the commuter train into Millennium Station, and then taking the Blue Line all the way out to O'Hare. It's complicated and you have to get the timing just right, but with free parking at the train station in Michigan City, what better way to get in and out of the city! Well, since I packed last minute, I woke up on Monday morning and was late getting on the road because I had to pick up my power adapter from my brother's house, which took me an extra twenty minutes, and by that time I was running late for the train - like half an hour late! Speeding down the highway, trying to keep a sharp eye out for police, I barely parked my car and bought my ticket when the train pulled up. I was safe!
The flight to Amsterdam from Chicago was uneventful. I was reading a good book (Room by Emma Donoghue) and watched a few movies - like I said, it was uneventful. We landed at 6-something in the morning on Tuesday and I had a three-hour layover in Amsterdam. I got to my departure gate and once again dove into my book. All of a sudden, a Dutch accent came over the PA system saying, "Passenger, Eric Portenga, traveling to Glasgow, you are delaying the flight. Please report immediately to gate D41 or we will remove your luggage." Well, that caught me off guard (and I was slightly appalled since the Dutch person totally butchered the pronunciation of my Dutch last name) and I bolted from my current gate to D41. I apparently missed the announcement that our flight had a gate change... Once at gate D41, I quickly stripped down to get through the metal detector, chugged the water that was in my Nalgene, splattering it all over myself, gave my passport and boarding pass to the gate agent, and got on the plane. Phew! I made it!
When we landed in Glasgow, it was rainy, and cloudy, and cold, but I got through customs just fine and met with Paul, my potential advisor, who drove me into the city to my hotel where I left my luggage, and then up to the University.
The University of Glasgow is the fourth oldest university in the English-speaking world (behind the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and St. Andrew's), founded in 1451. It has since maintained a reputation of producing high-end research in many scientific fields. In fact, the chemist and Nobel Laureate Frederick Soddy, who "discovered" the isotope, was a lecturer at the University. It was at a dinner party at a house across the street from campus where he put forth his ideas of isotopes and a woman at the party (Margaret Todd) suggested he called them isotopes - Latin for "same place." Credit has been given to Margaret Todd for her nomenclative skills, but the Nobel Prize went to Soddy for his recognition of these particles.
The campus was beautiful, though completely drenched, and after chatting with Paul in his office for a little while, I took a stroll around campus until my socks got soaked, went back to my hotel to change, before meeting with him once more in the afternoon. During the afternoon visit, the rain cleared up a bit and I heard a familiar drone which clarified that I was truly in Scotland: Bagpipes! That Tuesday and Wednesday, there would be a number of small graduation ceremonies and graduates in their gowns taking photos in the Quad, all led, of course, by that ever-haunting instrument. I loved it!! Dylan and his wife Daisy, flew in that afternoon as well for one last visit before their final move to Glasgow, and we met up for dinner that evening in the West End at a fantastic Indian restaurant (because Glasgow is known for their curries for some odd reason). After one last drink at a pub inside a refurbished church - complete with theater and club upstairs, we headed back to our hotel and I fell asleep immediately! Jetlag was not nice to me today.
 |
| The tower of the Main Building of the University of Glasgow lit up at night |
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Panoramas: Part 1
Do you ever have software sitting on your computer that you just wish you knew how to use? Well, a few years ago, I bought a package including Adobe Illustrator/Photoshop/Reader and pretty much just used the Illustrator/Reader parts without really knowing what to do with Photoshop. Well, I've been learning a few things lately and maybe gotten a little carried away with using the photomerge capabilities. Since then, I've been finding photos from my travels that I never thought I would be able to stitch together. Now that I know....I've been going crazy! So here are a few of my first photomerging projects:
 |
| The Gros Ventre Range in Wyoming. Photo was taken from near the top of Battle Mountain along the Hoback River. University of Michigan Camp Davis (2007) |
 |
| The Nopah Range in southern Nevada (California?). I forget exactly where the photo was taken, but I was on a Geology field trip with the University of Michigan Geology Department (2007) |
 |
| Cliffs of Moher along the west coast of Ireland, County Clare. Taken during my family's trip to Ireland earlier this year (2011) |
 |
| My sister with the Fernsehturm, Rotes Rathaus, and Alexanderplatz behind her. Taken from the top of the Berlinerdom. (2011) |
 |
| Three glaciers flowing into a fjord in Greenland. Taken from our C130 transport plane. (2011) |
 |
| Greenland Ice Sheet. Taken east of Kangerlussuaq. (2011) |
 |
| View of the Russel Glacier from downstream in the Watson River valley, east of Kangerlussuaq, Greenland. (2011) |
 |
| Greenland Ice Sheet (2011) |
 |
| Walking down the little road to the Greenlandic town of Igaliku. It was in this town, the next day, a polar bear was shot. (2011) |
 |
| Looking down on the ruins of Erik the Red's homestead in the town of Quassiarsuk, Greenland. (2011) |
 |
| Downtown Singapore. Taken from the top of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel and Casino. (2011) |
 |
| The iconic Three Sisters and the Jamison Valley in the Blue Mountains of Australia, just west of Sydney. Taken from Echo Point. (2011) |
 |
| Valley of the Waters in the morning from the top of Wentworth Falls in the Blue Mountains, Australia. (2011) |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
