Weekend in Glasgow Day 3

I felt extremely groggy when I got up in the morning; I had Skyped with Dad and Cindy until past 2, hadn’t fallen asleep until at least 3 and my body had awakened me around 7:30. I didn’t get down to breakfast until after 9 am. Breakfast was better than the day before – I picked myself out a good-looking piece of Canadian bacon (the only kind of bacon they have here, I suspect) and had it with egg on a piece of flatbread, and the sausage and potato sandwich was much better than the tomato and egg one had been. When girl behind the counter asked me what kind of coffee I wanted, I told her that I just needed something sweet. She offered to make me a mocha hot chocolate thing, which was better than the coffee of the day before, but still nothing to write home about. Also, the people that sat down next to me took my sugar before I got a chance to use it, and they didn’t put it back. Meanies.
I thought about taking Harriet’s advice and using the subway to get to the city’s west side, but instead I ended up strolling a bit more through the shopping area I had already frequented, with the goal of taking in a wider geographical range, going as far as the Clyde River to the south and the Provand’s Lordship and Glasgow Necropolis in the east.
On my first trip out I made it to the Clyde River, although I only saw a small stretch of it. I was excited about it, and with the weather being as lovely as it was I wished I’d brought something to read or write because I would not have minded sitting in the shade by the river and doing something of that nature. I wish I had more to day about it. Also wish I could have seen more of it.
Off of Argyle St there was a singular little marketplace called Sloan’s, which consisted of a few back alleys with stalls run by small business owners selling mostly homemade trinkets. There were handbags and jewelry, incense, key chains, a Tarot card reader and one guy that made one-of-a-kind clocks with movie and album memorabilia.
The only other new place I recall actually going into was an art store similar in scope to the one Dad and I stopped at in Columbus when we were there to see The Eagles (although I realize that this description means nothing to anyone but Dad).
On my way back from the Clyde, via a moderately-sized road I hadn’t used before, I went through Buchanan Galleries again, on the prowl for the strawberry smoothie I was hankering for. I found a place selling them just inside the doors and was ecstatic, although it was slightly bland, flavor-wise. It was good enough, though, to serve my purposes. From there I went to an obsequious store called Boots, which is a pharmacy chain over here, and bought a pretty photo album that I’d seen there the day before. Actually, I was forced by circumstance to buy two photo albums. But it’s not my fault! I swear! There was a BOGO sale, so I could hardly do otherwise!
I returned to my room to stow my purchase (s) and stayed to rest for 45 minutes or so. Cindy was online, so I Skyped with her for a wee while. When I left I headed for the Queen Street Rail Station to get my Edinburgh train ticket purchasing needs taken care of, watched Clanadonia do a few numbers again, then made my way eastward. I knew that I would have to make an effort to do something cultural while I was in Glasgow, partly because it’s my assigned region in Heritage Studies but also because they have several very old and very nifty buildings that you can explore for free.
The first on my list to visit was Provand’s Lordship, a historical building that I found while researching Glaswegian (a legitimate word, although I think it may be strictly a linguistic term, so I may be using it wrong) history. It’s the oldest building in Glasgow, and it’s specific original purpose is unknown (I’m taking this info from the sheet I got there). It is “a very rare example of 15th century Scottish domestic architecture” and one of many ecclesiastical buildings that made up the Diocese of Glasgow.
The rooms are interesting – fairly low ceilings but not too small, and with little nooks, fireplaces all over the place and stone seating at most of the windows. The wooden floors on the upper levers are unbelievably creakity, and the Provand’s Lordship Society, whose duty it is to look after the place, has a clear monopoly on “Do Not Touch” and Do Not Sit Here” signs. The neat spiral stone staircase was added in 1670 to replace a wooden staircase when additional rooms were added, and provided access to all three floors without the need for external balconies (if I understand the info sheet correctly).
The petite St Nicholas Garden at the back of the building was quite relaxing. At the center is a fountain surrounded by hedges, and along the outer walls there are cloisters (arched covered walks) with wooden benches set into the stone every several feet.
I next went to Glasgow Cathedral, which I believe is the first cathedral I’ve been in since the National Cathedral in DC my senior year of high school. As you all know, I am by no means a Christian, but shoot, I’m in SCOTLAND, for crying out loud, and I’ll be gol-darned if I’m not going to wander about every single really old building that I can get into for free! The place is as imposing as you’d expect it to be, all stained glassy and stone arch-y and massive pillars-y and echoing halls-y. The place is apparently still used for congregations, so it’s fortunate that it was late afternoon when I got there. There is a lower level that is almost completely open to the public, is undergoing renovations and quite frankly had the look of the clandestine meeting place of some weird cult. In this lower level was supposedly the tomb of someone called St Mungo (seriously – Mungo), about whom I should know something. Maybe I’ll add him to my Outcome 2 assignment for Heritage Studies, simply by virtue of his goofy name.
From the cathedral yard I could see the Glasgow Necropolis through a thin screen of trees. I took a picture but didn’t get to actually go there, however, because as I said, I was exhausted by that point and knew that once I got back to my room I wouldn’t want to go out again. I did get a pamphlet on the place.
St. Mungo’s Museum of Religious Life and Art is across the street from Provand’s Lordship, but they were only 15 minutes from closing time when I got there so I didn’t see much besides a statue of Shiva and a hall that happened to contain a bit on Buddhism. The art gallery was upstairs but I had no time to see it.
I wanted to take a bus back to citizenM (my hotel, for those of you with feeble memories), but I had a spot of bother trying to decipher the time tables at the bus stops I found along the way. The walk ended up being slightly shorter than I remembered, though it was still seemed way too long due to my fatigue.
I checked the menus on a few restaurants on my way back to the hotel, because although I was tired and sore from walking, I was also quite hungry. I wanted either something fancy and seafoody and garlicky or something fish and chippy, and ultimately decided to indulge a bit at an elegant Mediterranean restaurant called Roma. I got something called the Roma Special, which was a pasta dish with salmon and peas in a white wine sauce. It was absolutely delicious – I could have licked the bowl when I was done – although the portion size was not what I had hoped for considering the £9.95 price tag (also I think it did something ugly to my intestines because I was up at 2 am with some monster cramping). I’m pretty sure I was blatantly American in my eating methods, but I doubt anyone was paying attention. There appeared to be only one waiter in the place, an attractive Italian guy that didn’t seem to know what to make of me at first (when I went in with all of my flyers and pamphlets he thought I was there to sell him something).
You know how in the States the waitstaff brings you your bill near the end of your meal without being prompted? Well, they don’t do that here. At least, they didn’t at Roma. I waited at the table for probably near 15 minutes, gendering at my pamphlets and fiddling with my phone, until I finally caught the eye of the waiter and he made his way over to me. That was when I learned that I was expected to beckon him for my bill. I explained that in the States this happens automatically and that I hadn’t realized that I needed to request it. I told him that I had only eaten out twice so far in Scotland, once at TGIFridays (an American restaurant) and once at a pub where I paid first. I think he thought for some reason that I frequent fast food places and thought I was a little weird, but I didn’t have the energy to correct or sass him about that assumption.
It is now 8:35 and I have neither the energy nor the will to get up and move about anymore. Glasgow’s nightlife shall have to go on without me this night. I’m sure this blog is lacking a few places or experiences, but hopefully it does a good enough job of painting a picture for you. As for now, my body is sore and my brain is tired.
Off to the Big City tomorrow.