Glasgow Rocks Pro-basketball

While I didn't have to travel far to see any pro-basketball in Glasgow, it was a special event, nonetheless. A few of my officemates and I decided to pick up tickets to the last Glasgow Rocks game of the championship season at the Kelvinhall International Sports Arena. I knew, going into this, that it was not going to be anything like going to an NBA game in the States. The BBL (British Basketball League) has about 13 teams that seem to range in size, popularity, and skill level. The Rocks were placed 5th in the BBL going into this game, playing against the Durham Wildcats (ranked last...) so at least we could rest assured that we weren't going to see an upset.

Even though the arena was small (only eight rows of seats along one side of the court and behind both hoops), it was nearly packed, though I should mention was packed with lots of younger kids, most of whom were pre-teen boys excited to watch the Rockettes, Glasgow's 5-person team of bleach-blond, spray-tanned cheerleaders. Admittedly, they were fun to watch. You could tell they were having fun doing what they were doing, but I'll have to say they were a bit less committed to their booty-shaking choreography than, say, their busty and bootylicious NBA counterparts.

I've watched a lot of basketball growing up, though I have to be honest and say that I've....well, I've kind of forgotten a lot about the game. Mostly the penalties and fouls...don't really remember how those all work. But I wansn't out of place as most of the Glaswegians didn't know, either. The small arena was loud during a good play or a score, but during the rest of gameplay, you could have heard a pin drop! The Rocks played well, though definitely a bit more sloppy than the NBA skill-level. Interestingly, though, three or four players for The Rocks were American, and I'm willing to bet that they may be signed on to a NBA team in some fashion, but are playing overseas to gain experience and to maintain their abilities. With 7-minute quarters, the game went by quickly, but it was a good time. The Rocks are now qualified for the Playoffs, and, based on what I saw last night, will likely give a good showing.

I would definitely suggest going to a game if you've got an hour or two and you're looking for something different to do around Glasgow!

Glasgow Daytrip: Culzean Castle

Trip Date: 21 April 2012


Not having a car in Glasgow is really liberating. I don't have to find parking spaces, don't have to worry about theft or vandalism, and don't need to worry about insurance or anything like that. What is frustrating is that on the weekends, if I want to take a trip somewhere, I'm somewhat limited by wherever the train goes (granted, the trains go to a million different places, but not to every site to see in the country). I could always rent one; it wouldn't be too difficult. But I hate to say that just haven't put in the effort to doing that. I should. It will help me learn to drive on the left side of the road both here and while doing fieldwork in Australia, but I just haven't.

What I did take the effort to do yesterday, though, was to get out of the city and do a little sightseeing. I really wanted to go out and visit some of the Islands or the Highlands, but being train- and time-limited (I woke up at half ten...) I decided for something closer. An officemate of mine mentioned before I left that a neat place to visit is Culzean Castle (pronounced kil-ane), about 50 miles south of Glasgow.

Getting there was a little bit of a trip in and of itself. The train left from Glasgow's Central Station in the city center, so I took the subway downtown and then walked over to the station from there (sidenote: Glasgow really should consider running a spur subway track from either Buchanan Street or St. Enoch stations to Glasgow Central...). I bought a ticket to the coastal town of Ayr, about an hour's ride away.

I was surprised by how many people were going to Ayr yesterday. I've taken the train before and it's never been as packed as it was. And not just packed with regular people, but packed with loads of highly make-uped women in fancy dresses and silly wide-brimmed hats and men in sharp suits with snazzy, shiny pointed-shoes. I asked the man sitting next to me if there was a holiday or something going on that weekend and he mentioned that the Grand National horse race (a two-day, multi-event, festivity considered to be the best of its type) was being held at the race course in Ayr. Mystery solved. Looking at my phone, I found out that tickets to the race were only £19, but I decided to go with my original plan since I was definitely not dressed for such a fancy event!

Once in Ayr, I walked a few blocks from the train station to the bus station (note: the personnel at the train station do not know where the bus station is), which is not altogether easy to find from the train station. But I got there and about ten minutes later, I boarded the bus, and was off for Culzean Castle.

I was worried that the weather was not going to be nice for the trip, hence my late morning-rise and hesitation about going on the trip in the first place, but the skies cleared up for most of the day so that I was warm wearing my sweater and button-up shirt. From the bus stop at Culzean, you walk about 20 minutes to get to the Visitor Center which is housed in a ring of former farm storage sheds (I use the term sheds lightly here). Like all Visitor Centers, this was no different with the obligatory cafe, gift shop, toy shop, and toilets, but they also have a 20-minute video presentation that I never did see...oops.

From the VC it's a ten-minute walk to the castle, which was designed by Robert Adam for David Kennedy, the 10th Earl of Cassillis, who provided Adam with the funds to turn what was just an old medieval tower house into an architectural masterpiece, considered to be Adams's best. While the house and lands remained in the Kennedy family since it was built in 1793, they were donated to the National Trust for Scotland in 1945 so that the Kennedy family could avoid Scotland's (UK's?) inheritance tax, which is imposed on any property or possessions handed down to an heir after the owner's death. Often, with large estates such as Culzean, the tax can diminish the heir's inheritance significantly and if the heir doesn't have their own business or other means to pay the tax, they may not be able to afford their inheritance and thus the estate may be sold to the National Trust to be accessible to the public. Such was the case with Culzean, although, the family did stipulate that the third floor of the house be available to President Eisenhower in recognition of his efforts during World War II. The President did use the apartment numerous times during and after his presidency, but now the apartment is available to be rented out to anyone wanting to spend a night in the Castle!

Walking up to the castle, you enter through a ruined archway and over a viaduct designed by Robert Adams to give the feeling to any visitors that the castle was seemingly floating over the landscape. The views of the castle from the ruined archway and the viaduct are fantastic and you get views of the palatial gardens behind the house. The castle is positioned right on top of a cliff and the cliff edge is lined by a balustrade and observation deck looking out to the Isle of Arran across the Firth of Clyde. Off the driveway, opposite of the castle, is a stables building with a beautiful clock tower (which I didn't go in, and now I'm not sure why). You have to pay to get into the Castle separately from what you pay to get in to the grounds, and I just didn't want to put down those few extra £££s, but I will do that next time because the inside is supposed to be fantastic. I just didn't really have the time to explore the grounds and the castle since I arrived at 1:30 and the last bus back to Ayr left the main road at 5:00.

But I walked around the perfectly manicured gardens, across spacious lawns and eventually went down to the beaches below the cliffs where there is an older boathouse and another small manor which I'm not sure what it was used for initially, but now houses an environmental education center. Most of the grounds at Culzean are covered in woodlands with many paths and walks to explore, so I followed the coastal path up above the rocky shoreline for a ways until it popped me back out at the western end of the estate at the Swan Pond which has been a feature of the estate since it's beginnings. Overlooking the pond from a hill is a Pagoda which used to be common on estate grounds of the day and the Kennedy family used their to house exotic animals such as monkeys and likely also housed large birds like swans. You can still see all the cages of the Pagoda, which was restored back in the '60s, but not much else up there.

The Swan Pond itself is much more interesting. There is a little ice cream parlor in what used to be the living room of another little summer cottage on the estate, which also was where the family kept their chickens and other poultry. Lining the edge of the pond near the ice cream parlor is a little walkway and balustrade where you can sit, people-watch, and enjoy the antics of dozens of ducks, swans, a few gannets and herons, and other birds.

And today was no exception. I noticed a lot of the mallards acting strangely as they'd quickly dive under the water and kind of burst back out, splashing water everywhere, kind of rearing up and stretching out their wings. They were all doing it, but I couldn't figure out why until I saw a female duck enter the water only to be propositioned by four mallards, competing to win the affections of the female duck. Welcome to ducky mating season! The ducks kind of have a nice life at the Swan Pond and on a wee island about 10 feet from the edge of the pond, the ducks even have an architecturally elegant, octagonal, 24-coop duck house. But antics like these are not without their dangers. A man and his wife were there with their dog and was letting the dog off the leash. It was cute at first when the dog charged into the water sending all the ducks flying in different directions, but it soon became apparent that the owners had no control over their dog. Millie (the dog) was chasing ducks in all different directions and unfortunately chased a mother duck who had about ten ducklings in toe. Of course the ducklings couldn't yet fly and they tried desperately to scatter away from the dog. Waiting nearby, on the edges of the pond, were some seagulls. I'm not talking little squakers from the beach, but big, brutes. Well, one of the seagulls, apparently fed up with eating garbage and bread crumbs from children, took advantage of the disarray, swooped in, and picked up one of the disoriented ducklings and carried him off. Remember, there are children around the pond watching all of this and other people are remarking on how the seagull just snatched up a baby duck. By this point, the owner of the dog is shouting for her to come back, "Millie! Millie! Get back here!!" and his wife is trying to get the dog back as well, but less aggressively, "Come here, Millie," in a singsongy voice. The dog just kind of looks a them and continues his chase. Now, however, parents of the children, annoyed at the spectacle and lack of control the man had over his dog, are now suggesting out loud that the man go into the pond to get his dog. Another parent admonishes the owner for allowing his dog to disrupt a pleasant afternoon and getting a baby duck killed. And so on. Eventually Millie returns to her owners, and they put her on the leash and call her a bad girl, walking away from the pond to leers and jeers from on-lookers. Even then, once the dog was gone, people were still watching the seagull, who now was occupying some space near a log, thrashing the dead duckling by its neck. I looked around for the other nine ducklings but only saw one swimming around. I'm hoping that the others found safety in the coops on the island, but I'm not convinced.

So with that, I decided to leave the Swan Pond and made my way back to the main Castle and set out to find the walled gardens. These gardens are quite extensive, though there is a lot of space between rows of flowers and trees. It would be a nice place to relax and walk around, but by this time, the weather started to turn nasty and rain was coming down. I waited a while in the vinery before sloughing back through the rain to take a few photos at the Deer Park and then back to the Visitor Center where I got a plastic bag to wrap my camera in and then headed back out to the main road to wait for the bus back to Ayr (which almost didn't happen as the bus just sped passed the bus stop even though there were five of us in there, making us run out to catch the bus, which did stop but was pulled off the side of the road well away from the stop).

It was a nice day, overall, and it was nice to use the train and bus systems once more to get out of Glasgow. I'd definitely go back as there are a few things I missed out on such as the tour of the Castle, fortified caves below the castle (off-limits to visitors except on rare ranger-led guides), and a series of gates in a random, wooded corner of the estate. But I think my next excursion out of town will have to be to the islands or the highlands as I have yet to experience them.

Arthur's Seat in Holyrood Park, Edinburgh

31 March 2012

A week ago, as the last days of nice weather were coming to a close in Scotland, I was getting really anxious and just needed to get out of town and be outside doing something. I looked into taking a 5 hour train ride out to the town of Mallaig, an industrial fishing town that also serves as the gateway to the Inner Hebrides. Even though the train ride is rated as one of the most beautiful train rides in the world, and even though the ride brings you over the famous viaduct used in the second Harry Potter film, I decided I would leave that for another weekend when I had people to go with. That, and poor planning on my part just made it near impossible.

Instead, I decided on Saturday morning to head over to Edinburgh and hike Arthur's Seat, the top of a mini-mountain right in the center of town. The mountain, situated in Holyrood Park, is not terribly tall (see the photos for scale), but it is the eroded and weathered center of an old volcano. Originally used as the hunting grounds for the Royal Family while they stayed at their official residence in Edinburgh, Holyrood House, the park is now open to the public and on nice days is teeming with people taking walks below the craigs, along the lochs, and all over the grassy fields.

My train left around noon, but I got to the Glasgow City Center with some time to pick up a guide book or two on Scotland, and then a bit later, I got into Edinburgh's Waverly Station around half-one. Armed with my camera and sandwiches in my hiking backpack, I made my way down Edinburgh's High Street, past Holyrood House, and the new (and fairly unremarkable) parliament building, to the entrance to the park.

The weather couldn't have been nicer. The sky was blue with only a few clouds and a warm breeze in the air. And everyone was out. I'm not entirely sure how packed Holyrood Park usually is on a nice day, but it was almost impossible to not constantly be passing people. There are plenty of walks in the Park that are fairly easy to do, but most of the established trails have some pretty steep sections over rough ground. The up-side to that, though, is that it didn't take long before I was up above the city skyline with beautiful views of the city and the Firth of Forth (the ocean inlet alongside which Edinburgh is built).

The Park was beautiful, too. bright yellow flowers were in bloom and birds of all sorts were chirping or singing or cooing while rabbits hopped in and out of the bushes. While there are designated trails in the Park, people just kind of have free reign over where they want to walk, and it was really fun watching the singular person walking along the top of cliffs, or the guy playing catch with his dog in the grassy top of another hill, or the kids running around the little lochs in the park.

Since I had all day, I took my time and walked everywhere I wanted to go, but eventually, I made my way up to the top of Arthur's Seat where I found a nice little seat of my own in the rocks and had my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Throughout the hike, every now and then, and while I was eating lunch, I'd catch a tune being played on some bagpipes somewhere, carried on the wind. It was very faint and I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it only added to my surroundings: I was definitely in Scotland! With this as my view from Arthur's Seat, I didn't think it could get any better:

Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat in Holyrood Park. Edinburgh Castle is seen to the left of the photo with the old town lining High Street down to Holyhead House and Holyhead Abbey at the bottom right of the photo. Even in the distance, you can see the world-famous Fourth Bridge over the Firth of Forth, a bridge that once held the record for the the longest single-cantilevered bridge in the world. Holyrood Park is in the foreground of the photo while Regents Park is seen just right of center.

It was probably around 4:30pm when I started heading down from Arthur's Seat and walked through the rest of the park. I noticed a blister forming on my foot, and so I wanted to get off my feet pretty quickly. I made my way back up High Street all the way up to the gates of the Castle (a place I still have yet to visit), but I wanted to see some familiar sights from when I was last in Edinburgh, with my high school choir's tour of the British Isles in 2002. On that trip, we stayed in dorms at the University of Edinburgh (which I saw from Holyrood Park) and performed a concert in St. Giles Cathedral, right on High Street. It was really neat to see those places again and even though it was ten years ago since I was on that trip, it seemed like yesterday that we were getting our nighttime ghost tour of Edinburgh and tour down to the depths of Mary Kings Close, where victims of the plague were locked up in a dark and dingy dungeon-like room, well beneath the streets above.

My foot was kind of bothering me, and I didn't want to do too much more walking, so I started to head back to the train station. I was hungry, though, and while I was walking down a narrow set of stairs, I noticed a very small little pub in the alley (the Halfway House, which was Edinburgh's Pub of the Year in 2009) and since only two or three people were inside, I decided to stay a bit longer and enjoy sitting over a pint or two. But it was eventually time to go, and I got back on the train with plenty of time to spare in the day, and actually arrived back at my flat in Glasgow no later than 8:30. So it wasn't really that long of a day, but I was successful in getting my outdoor walk, my day-trip out of Glasgow, and a little more sightseeing and city-exploring!

Glasgow's Spring Thaw

Rain is falling once more in Glasgow as I write this short post and cringe at the impending 10cm of snow we might get tomorrow. This past week, and two weekends, though, we've seen what I've been told is abnormally warm weather for a Glasgow spring. We had nine days straight of sunny days. It was amazing. Flowers and trees were in bloom, and everyone in Glasgow was out in any patch of green space they could find to lay out and get their yearly dose of Vitamin D. People were out running, biking, walking their dogs, and eating and drinking out at little cafes everywhere around town. I even got to wear shorts!

Last week, there were a few days were the British Isles were nearly completely cloud-free! (very rare!)

Because I am in both my brother's and my sister's summer weddings, I had to get measured for a tuxedo somewhere in town. Last Saturday, I took the subway to the City Center and got measured at a huge men's clothing store where there were probably about 30 men helping others get measured and fitted properly. In the corner were I was getting measured, there were a bunch of kilts on the walls and a few guys being measured for those. I'm not going to lie, I want one. I don't care if I only wear it for sporting events and formal occasions, but I want one! And it's time to dispel the portrayal of men in kilts as men in skirts or dresses. NEVER IN YOUR LIFE walk up to a Scottish man in a kilt and say something about his skirt. You will not live to see another day (especially if it's at a rugby match)!

I spent the rest of that Saturday walking around the City Center, meandering up and down streets I hadn't been to before and scouted out lots of neat stores, cafes, restaurants, clubs, pubs, and markets I plan on exploring more in the future. Instead of taking the subway back home, I took advantage of the weather and took the footpath along the River Clyde all the way back to Partick.

Throughout the rest of the week, I couldn't not be outside. I ran 8km last Monday to burn off some steam from an unproductive Sunday through the Botanic Gardens, along the River Kelvin, and through the Kelvingrove Park where I'm sure I passed at least 2,000 people out enjoying the sun. On the run, I also passed a pub called, The Big Blue, that was perched up on a bank over the River Kelvin, next to a beautiful bridge, and had a few picnic tables and chairs along the footpath. Definitely was going to check that out later in the week.

Tuesday afternoon, one of the postdocs invited people over to her flat where she had a grill and large patio and a number of us enjoyed a fantastic barbeque with burgers, beer, wine, crisps, chips, salad, and the best desert ever: chocolate-stuffed, grilled bananas (see photo below). They were delicious and it was suggested that I try these out on a beach in a fire-pit. A must-do for this summer in Muskegon!

The next afternoon, though not the warmest of the week, was so nice, I wore my shorts and flip-flops. I couldn't stand being stuck inside, so I left work around 4 and headed to The Big Blue, got a beer and a table and did a bit of reading work out along the river. On the way home, I was also determined to check out another beer garden in this church-turned-restaurant/pub/theater. It was fantastic.

And then on Friday, after work, a few of my friends and I went to the pub next to our building to enjoy what might be the last bit of sun for a while. Pints in hand, they helped me decide to go outside and do something nice on Saturday, which I did, in Edinburgh. And I'll write about that tomorrow :)

Jupiter and Venus align over Glasgow

I was walking home at dusk the other day on an unseasonably warm night and a few bright lights in the sky caught my eye. I heard through the grapevine that some planets were getting ready to line up, but I wasn't sure which, though I was pretty sure that's what I was looking at. The night sky was a deep blue color and you could still see the fringes of daylight setting behind a thick front of clouds moving toward the city.

My friend, Sara, who lives in Saskatoon, has been taking a lot of awesome nighttime photos in northern Canada and inspired me to grab my camera as soon as I got home and try to take some good photos of the conjunction of Jupiter and Venus (as I later learned that's what I was looking at).

Around the block from my flat is a little park that I thought would be a perfect place to take some photos. It was, except for the fact that even this late in the evening lots of kids were playing on the playground equipment and I'm sure some of the parents were wondering what this guy (me) was doing with a nice camera at a childrens' playground was doing. A little self-conscious about my photos and not wanting to draw undue attention to myself, I made sure to be focusing my lens up at the sky!

Anyway, here are the few photos that actually turned out somewhat nice. I definitely need to invest in a tripod, though, as the rest of the photos I took were pretty much just a bunch of squiggles in the sky. I'm hoping that we'll get another solar storm in the near future, in which case, I will try and get to northern Scotland and maybe glimpse some aurora borealis!

The Biggest Pizza in Belfast

Trip Date: 18 March 2012

Considering the day we had the day before, it's no wonder Rebecca and I didn't crawl out of our rooms until very very late in the morning. But up we were and shortly after or before noon, we packed up all of our things, picked up our trash from her relatives' flat, and headed out to meet her friends, Lydia and Daniel. It was a beautiful day, and we recalled some of the fun things that happened on St. Pat's Day, but we both agreed that the little pizza we had the night before was not enough. We walked down Lisburne Road and Lydia met us to take us back to her place.

On the way, however, Lydia pointed out one of her favorite places to eat that had the best pizza, Little Wing Pizzeria. Rebecca and I both kind of stopped and looked at the sign which read, "Biggest pizza in Belfast." In the window was a rack of pies two feet in diameter! Both of us hung over a bit, Rebecca and I decided (with some persuading from Lydia) to invest in the biggest pizza in town. I've been told pizza is kind of a newer food item over here in the UK and a lot of people are still pretty wary of it. But places like Little Wing are gaining good traction. A lot of restaurants in Ireland are also becoming very into locally produced foods and advertise it very well - kind of harkening back to my days in Vermont.

We toted the pizza back to Lydia and Daniel's where we (Rebecca and I) devoured the entire pie. It took a bit of effort, but we did it! Amy and Katie came over and met up with us as well and we all just enjoyed the morning over coffee and photos. Daniel and I, being the two Americans there, chatted it up for a while and the girls did their catching up before both Lydia and Amy move out of Belfast. It was soon time to go and Lydia drove Rebecca and me back to the ferry docks so we didn't have to hire a cab, which was very nice. I can't say enough how awesome my hosts were for the weekend, Rebecca, Amy, and Lydia. Fantastic people!

The ferry ride back to Scotland was much less crowded and much more quiet than on the way to Belfast. I'm sure that the majority of rowdy kids took the morning ferry back. Whatever the case, the sun was out and it was so warm that I spend much of my time out on the smoking decks taking photos of the scenery. Northern Ireland and western Scotland really don't get such beautiful weather that often, so it really was a treat. Rebecca found me on the decks and we just walked around as the ship made it's way back into Loch Ryan. Thanks to the weather, we also got a really good view of an old volcanic plug (a nickname for the solidified conduit through which magma reaches Earth's surface) that is out in the middle of the water, kind of like a focal point for the entire area around it. Back on land, Scotrail was doing work on the train line from Ayr to Glasgow, so our coach drove us all the way back into downtown Glasgow and we then split a cab back to our own flats.

It was just a beautiful, sunny, warm, relaxing, and great day to cap off a perfect St. Paddy's Day weekend! Thanks for sticking through all the way. I hope you've at least enjoyed the photos if you didn't get through all my writing. Here are some more!

St. Patrick's Day in Belfast

Trip Date: 17 March 2012

A year ago, I was updating my blog from my friend's, Ruth, apartment in Singapore after flying in on St. Patrick's Day from Sydney! I can't believe that I've been able to keep up this blog for so long (a posting rate of 1 entry every 5.2 days!).

Well, back in Belfast, Rebecca and I woke up in the late morning and I grabbed us some coffee and muffins from Starbucks before we headed off to meet with her friend, Amy, and Amy's friend Katie for a day of St. Paddy's Day food, drinks, and festivities. Amy and Rebecca went to secondary school (that's high school, for you American folks) and now lives in Belfast, so she was our primary tour guide for the day. Since we were running a little late, we took a cab to the City Center and kicked off our morning right by wandering around the St. George's Market. The history of marketplaces in Belfast goes back to the mid 1600s, but the current St. George's Market's history goes back to the early industrial 1800s Belfast. This part of town had all sorts of marketplaces where merchants and farmers would come to sell their items. The May family started the modern marketplace, and after acquiring land next to their open-air market, they decided to build the current sandstone, iron, and glass structure you see today. The structure, completed in 1890, was built because farmers "are submitted to sufficient hardships already, without being compelled to stand in the open air in torrents of rain before they can sell their goods." It didn't take long for St. George's Market to become the place to buy your butter and eggs, as the market's motto goes.

Things changed a wee bit during the second World War. The marketplace was still the best place to do your shopping because everything you needed was found, somewhat bountifully, and in close proximity, whereas folks who lived outside of town a bit would have to wait in lines for limited items at their local grocers. It wasn't long though before the Irish were struck by the Germans during the Belfast Blitz of 1941 (Easter Tuesday). After parts of the city were decimated, St. George's Market was turned into a makeshift mortuary for 255 bodies that were brought there for identification. More recently, however, the Market remained open throughout the Troubles which wreaked havoc on other parts of Belfast and has been renovated and restored such that producers of all sorts - farmers, artists, fishermen, and more - still utilize the space a few days each week to see their merchandise.

The four of us wandered around the market for a good while, sampling local cheeses, salsas, curries, vegetables, and even got ourselves some Guinness-soaked Irish Sausages on a bun with egg (called a bap). Super super delicious! It was just after noon when we left the market and headed closer to the City Center to get a good spot along the street to watch Belfast's St. Paddy's Day Parade pass by. The parade was fantastic: not too long, but lots of people were out and those who were in it definitely were having a good time. Belfast has a lot to celebrate this year. All over town there were posters touting that 2012 is "Belfast's Year" as the world remembers the fate of the Titanic on its centennial anniversary (Titanic was built in Belfast - and it was fine when it left the docks, they say!) and they are celebrating the United Kingdom's opportunity to host the 2012 Summer Olympics. Even though they are in London, all UK cities are opening their arms to any visitors that may be coming their way as part of the Olympics. Belfast is even opening up a brand new Titanic Museum in the harbor this year to commemorate the ship-building history of Belfast and the history of that ill-fated voyage.

The tail end of the parade passed by and we followed it a little bit, back past Bittles, the pub Rebecca and I started at the night before, and down to the Albert Memorial Clock. The clock tower was built as a memorial to Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's husband, and was finished in 1869. Like so many other famous towers, the tower was built on swampy ground and has taken on a generous lean (4 feet) to one side! But the tower is stunning and the city is paying millions of pounds to try and halt the continuing lean.

While the throngs of people hustled into Custom House Square for some free live music, we meandered through some back alleyways until we got to a little pub called The Duke of York, a pub our restaurant server the night before suggested to us but apparently could not give us directions to. And so it started, the drinking that is. The pub was decked out with any and all sorts of vintage posters of Irish beers and whiskeys, advertisement trays, stickers, and tins. And in true Irish pub fashion, the tables were what looked like refurbished church pews and other benches and stools, and the table were hand crafted out of wood or recycled sewing machine benches.

We had a drink or two and watched as people from the US, Australia, Europe, and Ireland came in and out of the pub, but then it was time to move on because rugby was going to be starting soon, so we marched over to another bar, 21 Social (not a pub as it was much trendier). They had a big screen with rugby on (Scotland v. Italy - Scotland lost...again) but were not playing the commentary and few people were there, so we left our front seat table to find a better setting to watch the Wales v. France and England v. Ireland games.

First we went across the street to a pub, The Cloth Ear, where young Irish dancers were prancing about throughout the pub and you literally had to watch where you were walking or else you'd get a foot in your face. These girls were not joking around. If you were in their way, they were not going to stop for you, but you wouldn't realize it until you came to, sprawled out on the floor - a direct K-O from their dancing shoes. Needless to say, we moved on. It seemed like none of the other pubs people were suggesting worked out. We tried The Garrick, which looked great and they had the game on, but it was small and way too packed for us. And then we tried McCrackens and The Morning Star before finally going back to The Cloth Ear where the dancing had stopped and the Wales-France game was back on in full swing with commentary and everything. Everything but seats. We stood around and shared some stools and drinks for a little while, before I was sent on a reconnaissance mission back to 21 Social to see if our table was still open.

Our table had been taken by a group of guys we saw waiting around before we left that bar earlier in the day, but decided to head back there anyway since their screen was much bigger and the crowd was much more into the game. Drinks were passed and laughs were shared as Wales beat France to win the Six Nations tourney. We didn't have too long to figure out a game plan to find seats to watch the game (as we were standing behind the crowded table of guys). But then one of them suggested two empty stools they had open, so Katie and Amy took those, while Rebecca and I parked it on the floor. So much roomier and right in front of the action. Unfortunately, the action was all England, and they beat Ireland pretty well. And unfortunately for Katie, from England, she was unable to cheer for England as she was totally surrounded by rowdy, drunken, Irish folk. But she'd smile a bit when England did something good or Ireland messed up.



By this time it was quite late in the day, or actually, well into the evening...it's hard to remember at this point, but we needed food. The only open place was McDonald's (eyes are rolling, I know) but it was what we needed, something greasy and salty. When we were finished, we headed toward Filthy McNasty's, the pub that Rebecca and I ended at the night before. We were rendezvousing with another of Rebecca's friends from secondary school, Lydia, her husband, Daniel (a SoCal guy), and some of their friends. It was a bit chilly out, but Filthy's back courtyard was jam packed full of people and had lots of little alcoves where small fires were lit (which is a thing here in lots of pubs - real open fires!). The music was playing, the drinks were flowing, and flowing, and flowing. We met some locals by one of the fires and ended up chatting the rest of the night with them and eventually moved to one of the inside rooms where we could enjoy our drinks without worrying about the cold.

Suffice it to say that we closed out the pub and before we knew it, Rebecca and I walked to a taxi stand with Amy and Katie to see them back home, but we kept walking back to our place, only stopping to pick up a pizza. Once back at Rebecca's aunt's flat, we ate our pizza, enjoyed another beer brewed in Rebecca's hometown, and watched YouTube videos for a while before calling it quits and going to bed. Even with its past history of St. Patrick's Day riots and considering their loss to England in rugby, it was a fun, friendly, and successful SPD - the only kind I assume you can have in Ireland :)

Now we just had to get through the next morning...

Rail and Sail to Belfast

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!)

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.

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!

Panorama of Edinburgh from Murrayfield Stadium

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!