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Tuesday August 7-Saturday August 24 (Day 41-Day 58)

    With only a backpack and my brothers, I'll be traveling through Edinburgh, West Scotland, Ireland, London, and the Netherlands. Updates when I return to the U.S. on August 25th!

Monday, August 6 (Day 40) 

Notes to Self: 

Studied in the morning. Discussing Final. Final Exam. Coffee etc. afterwards. Worked on this journal.

Dinner at the Cathedral turned restaurant/pub. Amazing. Chicken with spaghetti. Sticky Toffee Pudding with icecream. Strawberry Italian soda. The bathroom. The conversations (stories), the sadness. The laughter. Mr. Professor song.

Buying a Twister. Playing in the park with the kids (electrical fence). Accent, talks about sex, and kissing and cussing and boyfriends and soda. They told me I was cool. We played Tag.

Goodbye and sadness to and with everyone.

Sunday, August 5 (Day 39) 

 Notes to Self:

Saying Goodbye, the beginning of…

Church, and testimony meeting. The time we’ve had there, and the friends we’ve made.
Wrote two papers, started to pack.
Ryan came over, which was great, it was also surreal.
Had a study session (the best I’ve ever had)>miming, and the hilarity that ensued.
Worked into the night, sort of.

Saturday, August 4 (Day 38)

Notes to Self:

Spent ALL DAY working on my fainal papers, packing, and planning. Got fed up so went for walk in Botanic Gardens. Discovered old bridge we got lost at, and the mill. Read Wordsworth by the river. The dogs are everywhere. Came back, had that vegetable tart for dinner. Went to “Spirit of the Dance”, barely made it, weird, weird, weird with Hispanic looking lip-singer. 

Friday, August 3 (Day 37) 

Notes to Self:

Wake up. Wrote more papers. Went shopping (Meuller corner yogurt!) Went to see Danny, Champion of the World. Got lost, was late. Got to stomp my feet, and shout. Hissed at the bad guy. A great time. British actors are so good, and a different in a way. But they know how to do children’s theatre. Came back, enjoyed dinner and chatting, and worked on more things. Then we went to see “Twelth Night” in the Botanic Gardnes, performed by a young troupe. Really fun and delightful. Came back, work/procrastinated till Debbie came home and I chopped off my hair! Laughed with Amanda about Office previously. REMEMBer: woke up to bagpipers and drums (all day), and office quotes, and Jack’s hair advertisement.

Start this entry with Regina Spektor’s lyrics from “Samson”

“I cut his hair myself one night
a pale of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he’d told me I’d done alright
And he kissed me until the morning light”
 

Thursday, August 2 (Day 36) 

Notes to Self:

Stirling. Arrived. Walked to castle, thought of Ever After the entire time. Saw all the sights. Meandered afterwards with group (bought calendar, ate sandwhich, saw Tapestry, palace, imagination, etc.). We found our way to William Wallace monument (brainstorming ideas about BYU bookstore bag contest). Climbed mountain (vertically) to the top. The monument, three levels, intense stairs. Pictures at top. Crazy fun. Came down, debate. Wandered off with Jennifer. Simply had fun in the woods. Our own beheading stone (contraption of stick and sweater to take it), getting a little lost, the enchantment. Finding and not finding a bus. Finally getting back (asking directions). Home. Crepe place for dinner (Hawain Ham, Mmm!) Talking with Jennifer and hearing all her stories (soothing to the soul!). Coming home and laughing with people, as usual. 

Wednesday, August 1 (Day 35) 

Notes to Self:

Thoughts during class. Lecture by man about Kelmin. Really thoughtful. Accordian man. Train station. King’s theatre. Mitchell Library. Helped man from Holland/Berlin. Wrote play rather than paper. Decided against Kelmin Grove. Came home, worked on things till 6:00 (Matt came over for study session). Had spectacular dinner (Chicken Korma and Spicy Bolognese Chicken Pasta), desert apple turnover with double cream. Went to Part II of His Dark Materials, which was really fabulous. Made me sad though. 

Tuesday, July 31 (Day 34) 

Notes to Self:

A boring day for many. I spent the entire day writing papers, postcards, and updating this journal. That night I went to a football game. Great experience, now I’m a fan. The Songs, the pies, the jerseys. The bus home. Debate over going clubbing. Bought chips, and chicken Korma for the next day. Had a great conversation with Jack in the kitchen about friends and choices in our lives. 

Monday, July 30 (Day 33) 

    Lounging with Literature

I wake up early, but always later than I intended, eat a breakfast of a most delicious strawberry yogurt and digestives, put my abnormally large textbook in my backpack, and wait for people to get ready to leave for class. The conversations on the way to class are always interesting. We pass the kids in the park on the right, Coffee Etc. on the left, oh look, they washed of the profanitic anti-war graffiti on the bridge, step over the ugliest spot in Glasgow, and I’m debating about what I want to do that day with Amanda. We pass through the white washed, and black trimmed Ashton Lane that sports pubs and restaurants such as the Ubiquitous Chip and The Wee Curry Shop. Past the ugliest building in Glasgow (when cement was the popular coating for the exterior on buildings), up the steps, nod at the smoking security guards, arrive at the Academic converted town houses, up the marble steps, and into the familiar room with it’s post-modern portrayals of Scottish poets hanging on the walls and the front desk that was originally designed to be a mini-bar.

Class begins. It lasts longer than usual, because Dean has gone, and now Matthew Wickman and us can chat about anything we please. Today we cover Glasgow—it’s economic and literary history, and we come to realize why “they’re” version of reality is grounded in the gritty and smutty. It’s enlightening, especially as we go into what we mean when we say “refined” and Matt tosses out terms like “neo-realism”, “neo-modernism”, “neo-neo-romantic”, “Victorian Sensibilities” and phrases such as “Subordinates it’s downtrodden subject matter to the existrigencies of it’s own form.” And sense I can’t spell, or find the correct spelling for the world “existrigencies”, I contemplate the fate of the Scottish Poets.

After class, I gnaw on stale bread while walking to the library. Once there, I’m standing in front of an exhibit on Samuel Beckett, glad that he was shy and sensitive and humble, and inspired by his sheer tenacity. I’m supposed to write a paper on Beckett and Joyce, and I keep wondering about these Irish men who always live in France.

Walking down Bath Street, after a smelly ride through the subway, I’m enjoying the new smells of French perfumes, fresh bread, and clean buildings. Buildings, it seems, that are occupied by the business’s that cater to the upper-middle class white-collared, maroon-knee-length-skirted business men and women of Glasgow who are walking by me on the left and right, talking on their mobiles in the softer lilting accents of the respectable Glaswegian. I’m amused at the contrast between this street and the more crowded Sauchiehall street which sports the much more extreme versions of Glasgow and it’s buskers with their baskets and hats glittering with 2-pence coins.

Finally I arrive at the green-domed Mitchell library, and I’m swarmed by all that’s good about books, book people, and book places—cafes that clink with coffee cups, the laughing of intellectuals, and piles of people nibbling on their fingertips while devouring Kafka, or the latest Karen Slaughter (one has to wonder if that’s a pen name or her real name) crime novel. I’m enchanted as I make my way to the restroom only to discover it’s a travel back in time, through mahogany passage ways, glass double doors, and there’s even classical music coming from the room labeled, “The Burns Collection.” My stall feels like a hotel room, with it’s own sink and dryer. I…am…royalty. Royalty faced with the reality of the digestive system. My romantic image of myself is suddenly thwarted, and my 21st century self leaves the restroom to wander.

The sort of man you would expect to be surrounded by shelves of browned and tea-colored books, wooden puppets from China, Italy, and Scandinavia, and the musical intonations of Brahms is indeed there, peering with reading glasses into whatever world he likes, sitting in “The Burns Collection” room. So I pass on by, though I’m beginning to doubt it’s Brahms, and I see through the window a large hall. I enter the large hall, eyes move up, and I imagine what it would be like to have a ball there, with the high, high glass ceiling, and peach walls. Look up to green dome, and have a friendly chat with the security guard. His accent sounds…

Meet Amanda and Drew, after reading some. Train ride, smelly man from India, though I’ve nothing against India or the man…perhaps it’s the couple across the way and their armpits…

Now we’re on Sauchiehall street. Ah, home to the living, breathing, swarm of people who shove past you, delighting your ear with Cantonese, French, or the good old Scottish F-bomb. I’m alive, and pleased because Ranger’s jersey’s are only 7 pounds! What a deal.

Home, or homeward bound I should say, in reverse, past the lone man and his accordion, which is so reflective and sad, pity makes my pockets heavier with the change they carry. Passing a beggar asking for ten pence, I realize there isn’t change in my pockets, but we run into the fruit man instead, and get a good deal on a gigantic bag of pears, oranges, strawberries, grapes, plums and bananas. Amanda and I trade off carrying, while I’m sad because Coffee Etc. closed early for some reason.

Nap.

The lounge is a hot place, and I blame the orange lights. But we’re glad because I did my laundry, and we went to the gas station and bought candy (and icecream!). We’re playing Scrabble, and reading, and sipping hot chocolate that came out of those machines for 50p, so it’s never got enough chocolate. I’m eating oranges too. Just Amanda and I, when we should have maybe gone to the SA activity with everyone else, but I was so tired when they knocked, I slept right through into dreams of all the books I’m reading.

Then a few more digestives, and I determine that indeed I will spend the next day writing, rather than going to Air, since I could save the 8 pounds for Inverness on Friday, which suddenly, but unanimous vote, I’m in charge of the plans. Hm, I wonder, and try on my new Jersey. I’m glad I got the bigger size.

 

Sunday, July 29 (Day 32) 

    Saying Goodbye

I’m always nervous I’ll be late
but ever since Dean chastised me
for always going off alone,
I wait.

This day was a day of goodbyes. Farewells. It was our last day with Dean Duncan and his family, because they were leaving us early. That made everything a little tinged with sadness. It was also the same day that David Bane, a good friend we’ve all made while we’ve been here, gave his farewell talk. Everything led up to it, which is something I like about the Glasgow ward. Everything builds up to Sacrament meeting. First, we had a combined Relief Society and Priesthood lesson on the three-fold mission of the Church which was taught by the Bishop. My friends and I contemplated this later, when we were thinking how hard it would be to be Mormon in Scotland. Drinking, Swearing, and Smoking are second nature to the Scots, and those are just physical habits that immediately make every Mormon Scot so different from their friends and associates. It was really fun to hear the comments made by members in the ward (everyone had things to say) over this particular lesson. The personalities of the Glasgow ward have really become my friends.

Sunday School was about the Resurrection, and we had over 20 more people than usually come to the lesson (because of David, it had been that way in Relief Society as well). That class is so profound, in a very personal way. Words are like a currency in Scotland, and they are used carefully by those who truly value them. It is most likely because of this that my Sunday School teacher has such a profound impact on me during those lessons.

Hovering over everything, there was goodbye. We came to sacrament meeting, with the thoughts and feelings of the other classes trailing in our minds. First there was a great talk (as these Scots talk well) and then, oh, and then, a few of the main players of the ward (they stand out) got up to sing. They sang that EFY medley of “Sister in Zion” and “Armies of Heleman”. Maybe it’s the familiarity in the melodies in the music that move me, or maybe it’s the memories associated with it, or most likely, it’s the effort of the singers, with their Scottish accents affecting the words, and their straining voices and hearts…that just…made it so sacred. So much, I think I’ll cherish it more than talk about it.

Then of course, David spoke. This is a remarkable young man. He’s been called on a mission to Dallas, Texas, and he’s going to do so well, with his good looks, sentimental soul, and Scottish brogue. He gave a remarkable talk, and he really is like the poster child for the ward, so they were all sad and celebratory at his parting. And there was leftover cake afterwards! Which is always nice…

Then we had our own goodbye to say. Our group gathered in the primary room and shared just a few words, few business-like sentiments, and the enigma Dean departed. That was that. I have encountered no greater mystery than that man, and he would rebuke me for the use of the hyperbole, but it’s true. I feel like I still know nearly nothing about him, even though we’ve spent a month learning from him. I’ve learned a lot from him, and he’s pushed me in ways I never would have imagined, but he remains one of those distant galaxies you just wonder about. My last image of him is through the black fence surrounding the Botanic Gardens. He’s walking, holding his case over his shoulder and clutched to his side, with a determined look on his face, thoughts and conclusions contorting his face in a pensive expression. What must be spinning through his brain. His back is turned to us as he walks away, alone, impenetrable, and always looking ahead, always looking for the beauty of the world he will continue to try to describe, and will forever push us to observe and think about and put into words we are incapable of thinking. But we must think them, and we must say them, and we must feel them, for that, he would say, is what makes us human. It is what makes us divine.

I learned to not care what Dean thought of me, which perhaps was the greatest lesson of all, since I put a tremendous value on the opinions of those I admire. I learned the value of my own thoughts, my own words, my own feelings, and that I can experience them deeply and profoundly, independent of others. I learned how to live outside myself. And so, the mentor who inadvertently taught me so much, with a “safe travels”, walked off and was swept up into the Sunday picnics and patios of Glasgow as I replied, “see you later.”

And without Dean, we took our first and last group picture. A thing that I had insisted upon and organized.

Then I was able to finish a few papers, talk a bit with my family, and laugh the evening away in our flat on Murano Street, with goodbye’s echoing off the wind, which swirled about us in the twilight of Scottish Sundays.
 

Saturday,July 28 (Day 31) 

Notes to Self:

The Bonnie Banks

Loch Lomand. Train there. Laughed (“sparkle” “trademark”>”doiling”>came up with those in Orkney). Walked around the lake, played on play ground, pretended to be Unicorn fairies. We role played, seriously. Walked through fairy glen, amazing trees and trails, and flower patches. Magical place. Arrived at castle. Bought chocolate. Went to Folk Festival, listened to live music. Then to craft fair. Then to French Festival. Olives, patries, bread, cheese, sausage. Practiced French. Shared French Feast. Listened to pictish scotish band, bought cd. Danced in street. Took train back. When we got back, worked on papers (while they went to farewell party).

Friday, July 27 (Day 30) 

    Milk and More

A time to talk candidly about how good the dairy is in the United Kingdom. Perhaps there is more fat content, which would explain the significant padding that has been added around my torso and hips. Every thing that comes from Cows here tastes distinctly of butter. So when I went to the grocery store, I went dairy happy. I bought myself Crème Fraiche (French, I know, but still better), Camembert cheese, milk, and yogurt. My dairy intake has tripled since I’ve been here, as I have yogurt, milk, cheese, and various varieties of all of those throughout the day.

Shopping for me is a serious debate. Potatoes? Oranges? Digestives? Juice? Is the pizza with mozzarella pearls, sun dried tomatoes, hand-stretched Mediterranean crust, and globs of pesto really necessary? Yes. Oh, the temptation of eating things with foreign tendencies. Like…cottage pie. Or Jaffa Cakes. And there are always regrets. I should have gotten digestives with caramel…or cereal…or the apple and cherry pies that were only 99p! Sigh. The 35p pitas always throw me off.

And then there’s laundry, which is rejoicingly free. I don’t think I’ve ever washed my clothes so much. But. Due to the fact that detergent costs money, I’ve found a circuitous way of…ahem…actually cleaning them. This usually involves borrowing, either from neighbors, or the residue in the laundry rubbish bin. Some may frown, but economically, it’s working fine. And there was lots of laundry to do, since all my clothes were sufficiently soiled with sand while in Orkney.

And that’s what I did. I just described, in detail, the utter dullness of my day. I went shopping and washed my clothes. I made the rest of the day an attempt to work on the perpetual pile of papers and such. I don’t understand how that pile never gets smaller, and I always end up eating so much while I’m working on it.

But the day got interesting in the evening, as it usually does. We all made our way to Citizen’s Theatre (after getting nearly lost and asking a nice neon-green clad man for directions—neon-green is a sign of something official here). The play: “His Dark Materials: Part I”

This was an interesting experience, made increasingly interesting by our discussion. The experience of the play was divided into two categories. Those who had read Philip Pullman’s trilogy, for the most part, enjoyed the production. Those who had not read his books, found it confusing and boring and extremely strange.

Who, when looking for potential project, ever thought to try the mammoth and suicidal effort to put on a STAGE play for His Dark Materials? The directors of the Scottish Youth Theatre did, apparently, and I wondered if they ever regretted it. So many characters, and each with their daemon, so many plot twists, and controversial innuendos all amounted to strange collages, difficult dialects, and outbursts of song. Yes, someone, in the confusion of it all, turned the witches into singers, and the play ended with a Les Miserables-type triangle, with an eerie minor triad droning in the background, while all the characters sang, “Down with the Church, the Authority must die!”

The best thing is…there’s a Part II, which we will go see on Wednesday. It’s a different cast entirely. I’m really very excited. I did get one of my greatest wishes granted while watching this particular production. I got to here what it sounds like when someone Scottish attempts a Texan accent…

That. Is entertainment.
 

Thursday, July 26 (Day 29) 

Notes to Self:

Woke up, had poached eggs on toast. Cheese platter. Packed up. We walked around town a bit, found yarn. Got on Ferry to head back. Had Orkney cheesecake. Said goodbye to Orkney. Train ride quickly from Thurso, finished another book. Got back late, Welcome back to Glasgow. Spence gets the duck. 

Wednesday, July 25 (Day 28) 

Notes to Self:

Had English breakfast with Black pudding. Interesting. Strolled around town for a bit, met up to take bus to 1) place of ruins. Old town, then palace. Beach, made video. Bus Then we went to Ring of Kerry (sp?). Rainy tour. Great guide, great spirit. Went back, got dry, ate some, headed out in bus to ***?***, great tour, neat hill, neat tomb. Rain to ***?*** town. Wasn’t feeling well but worth it. Got back, had great Indian food. Took hike to top. Brinkie Brae experience (on the hills of Orkney). Heaven, Perpetual Dawn, mist enshrouded, house on hill, double mountain, lighthouse. Dean talk>experience, felt humbled.  Had Ginger Beer afterwards. Great talk in rooms. The Fang experience all day (band aid) 

Tuesday, July 24 (Day 27) 

Notes to Self:

Woke up early. Wrote and read. Had breakfast of toast and porridge that tasted like sawdust and glue. Went to beach. Walked out on rocks. Played on awesome playground, killer see-saw. Went back, read in park. Walked to Ferry. Almost missed it, RAN. Huge ferry, like a cruise ship. Had Mac and cheese, carrots, peas, and chips (with a variety of sauces, brown, mint, French and English mustard, ketchup and vinigar). Sat outside, became “victim” in the great fanged duck mystery. Bought chocolate and disgusting energy drink. Passed by Old Man of Hoy. Isle of Hoy. And landed in Stromness. We stayed at the Ferry Inn. Room 5 with old key. Went to Kirkhall, saw St. Mungas cathedral, faded tombstone, old palace, walked the streets, took pictures on the coast. (Emily, Colleen and Jennifer). Came back, shopped at co-op. Got strange salad, laughed with boys over cheese (room with Whit, Amanda, and Sarah), bought lots of cookies, and plums. Took a shower. Bed. Don’t forget you got icecream. 

Monday, July 23 (Day 26) 

Notes to Self:

Went to class in the morning. Guest lecturer. Eleanor Bell (Sexy journal). Came home, and quickly planned for trip, booked flights and hostels and such. Got a few things done. Train to Thurso, via Perth and Inverness. Great train ride. Emily and Jennifer and Amanda. Read “No Great Mischief”, talked, read HW, wrote. Thurso. Stayed in Hostel (kicked out the French), room of ten. Sausage and chips. Ocean at night. 

Sunday, July 22 (Day 25) 

Notes to Self:

Read Harry Potter. Church (another great day). Got ready to leave for the Orkneys. Talked with family on Skype? Planned trip with Ry.Ate up last of my food. 

Saturday, July 21 (Day 24)

Notes to Self:

Other than reading Harry Potter. The Pioneer celebration. The knitting contest. The log pull, sawing. The hamburgers and hot dogs. The pie competition. The horse race. The dancing. The campfire (reference email to Matt for details). Walk to the Borras, empty, trash. Came home and read. **heard about the others experiences in Edinburgh.

Jennifer and my self-loathing experience with weaknesses. Admiration of Dean.
 

Friday, July 20 (Day 23)  

Notes to Self:

 Okay. These four days are interesting. I mean the 19th through the 22nd. And the fact that they all followed each other is even more interesting.

Glasgow. Tried to catch up, read, and wrote, didn’t really work. Went to the People’s Palace on the Glasgow Green. Nice women on bus. Indian men at museum “Oh, you must go to Bombay. You look over the city and feel, what a vision!” Weird experience. Met a monk on my way home. Gave me a free book. “If people aren’t happy it deosn’t matter what they’re doing” Bagpiper. Surreal experience. Symphony of senses.Went home, bought strawberries (so happy). Plan to go to Harry Potter.

Harry Potter. Waiting in line. Minstrels. Buskers. People we talked with. The McDonalds fight. Getting the book the mixed frustration and anticipation.
 

Thursday, July 19 (Day 22)

Welcome to New Lanark

Ah ha. New Lanark. Okay. Just as a preface, Dean played this place up as something we ALL had to go to (one of the three only REQUIRED things on this trip), and it was revolutionary, etc.

We arrive. And our experience at New Lanark, was, in essence, the creepiest thing I’ve experienced in my young life. Dean gets on me for using so many hyperboles, but I’ve simply had great opportunity to use them on this trip. New Lanark was creepy.

History: Robert Owen created a town around the cotton mill, that was revolutionary because he gave his workers fair wages, homes, schooling, good food, and he didn’t discipline with violence. For his time, it really was incredible. There’s no denying that.

But you got there, and it’s a series of white, plain buildings. The kind you would find in all those distopian novels like 1984 or The Giver. The town is in the middle of nowhere (you walk about a mile from the train station in Lanark to get there) and situated on the extremely polluted waters of the river there.

First thing you do, when you arrive, is go on a “ride.” You go in these tube like pods, and then a hologram appears in front of you (I’m not kidding). It’s an Asian/British girl wearing a purple spandex outfit with silver paint all over her face. And she speaks to you, saying:

“Hi, I’m Harmony, and I’m from the future.”

Seriously. Harmony then takes you on a ride back to the year 1815-ish, and then will occasionally tell you secrets about the future, like “teleporting tickles!” or “I can’t tell you too much, or I might lose my time-travel license!” The facts about New Lanark are interesting, but the ride gets weirder and weirder as Harmony keeps talking about how all the world’s social ills are going to be solved by the year 2200 because of Robert Owen. And then the ride tells us that Ghandi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr, and others were all inspired by New Lanark. Then Harmony thanks us for planting the trees, which are now a forest that she and her friends now play in.

The ride ends with an extremely eery song and a bunch of people whispering words like, “Charity, Peace, Love, Harmony” etc.

We left the ride and all just sort of stared at each other.

“Socialist propaganda, anyone?” Jennifer summarized.

We then went on a tour through the mill, which was actually…alright, but still carried a weird eeriness about it. I personally had a debate within myself. Perhaps it was my American individualist that reacted so strongly against the ideas in New Lanark. Maybe I had read too many books about Totalitarianism. Whatever it was…New Lanark was creeping me out.

And the museum forces you to exit through the gift shop. Which is also very telling.

We then went on a hike. The hike was nice, because it pulled us farther and farther away from the buildings called, “Center for the Formation of Character.” The sad thing, is this was a spot that poets had written about, and painters had painted, but the stunning sights of the waterfalls were marred by the fact that pollution made them look like Chocolate rivers.

We came back, and Whitney and I had a great time playing in the kid area (we jumped on the foam building blocks, and ran around barefoot through the light and sound exhibit).

We then watched another hologram movie, about a little girl who died in the river when she was 11. This movie was a little easier to swallow than the Travel through time. It was highly informative…but again, it didn’t shed the greatest light on Robert Owen and all the “wonderful” things he was supposed ot have done. And at the end, it was sheer propoganda again…for what, I’m not exactly sure. Accept that this little ghost girl (it was her ghost talking to us) kept saying things about all “of us are in the walls, the earth, the river…remember us” (she starts to fade) “remember us” (fading some more) “remember us.”

And we wanted to leave.

We were so terrified that we would be stuck in New Lanark. It was like one of the Goosebumps stories, or those time traveling made of TV movies that send ignorant pre-teens on a historical adventures that expand their perspective and alter the future forever. When I expressed this view, Danny pointed out that, “They always come back stronger and wiser.”

Seriously, I was afraid a window into another world was about to appear before me, and we were going to go back in time, and have to be stuck working in the cotton mills of New Lanark.

And everything was getting quite. It was like everyone had disappeared. And the train station was empty, and the town was quite. And we kept having to comfort ourselves by making for of our experience.

So, what was intended to be highly educational has now become our greatest inside joke. Whenever we encounter something sort of creepy and eery in a brain-washing/cultist sort of way, we always give a smile and say, “Welcome to New Lanark!” I really perpetuated the whole continually make fun of New Lanark thing…I think it’s because I if I didn’t laugh…I probably would have had nightmares.

When we got back, a group of us girls ended up spending hours sitting in the hall, talking about boys and such. I ended up spending a lot of time with Jennifer, helping her with plans for her wedding. That was a fun evening. We kind of got closer by being mutually scared spitless.

I worked more on my story (aided by New Lanark I’m sure), had carrots for dinner, and I finally finished “Dharma Bums” and another book.

New Lanark was actually more beneficial than just being creepy. It got me thinking a lot about the working class, and my own origins. I thought a lot about the paper mill that is so much apart of who I am, and who my family is. I wanted to write a story about them. It got me thinking a lot…it really did. And I always value a trigger like that.
 

Wednesday, July 18 (Day 21)

Oh look. I have another note that says “Class-incredible, again”. I really should add more meat to my generalizations.

Instead, I’ll make a note to myself. KATHERINE: DESCRIBE IN DETAIL WHY CLASS IS SO INCREDIBLE.

After this said incredible class, I went with Emily to go see the documentary “Shut up and Sing” at the Glasgow Film School, which by itself is a very cool place (memorable bathrooms).

Okay, this documentary. I am so glad I saw it in the U.K. It was SO fascinating to see a movie that is about Americans, Texans primarily, and to hear the reactions of people that consider this a foreign film. It was a great experience, and I love this movie. I love this movie. I was a little ashamed to be a Texan watching it, but Texas is a big state, and I’m sure the intelligent, loving people outweigh the prideful, ignorant, and obnoxious. I hope. Boy where their gasps in the audience when one of the latter types of Texans shouted, “Ship them to France!” I love that movie.

I stopped at the fruit stand on my way home. I love the fruit here. It’s so affordable. And then I stopped at Coffee Etc., which is a place I just love, because it’s so intimate and inviting, and authentic. I got a cheese and tomato toastie. Shamelessly greasy. Mmm.

That evening we played football/rugbie in the parking lot. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. We were just in very silly moods, and none of use could play. We played double monkey in the middle with a football (soccer ball) and rugbie ball. There was lots of laughter. And you know, how it usually is, it’s always fun until someone gets hurt. And someone did. I was racing Jack to the laundry room when he rolled his ankle.

And that’s when Danny sort of paused a looked at him, and then picked him up (like you would a women you were carrying over the threshold) and asked, “Where to?”

Jack, looking limp and feeble and helpless, pointed towards the flats and said flatly, “Um, that way.”

As Danny made his way up the stairs, he began to sing, “And I….will…always…love…you-who!!” I wish that moment could be captured.

I fell on the ground laughing so many times that night.

I also got some great emails this day. I mention them because I felt such an outpouring of love for my friends and family. I am so thankful that I have you (who I assume might read this) in my life. How lucky, and blessed I am to have people that care about me, and that I can care about. Such happiness.
 

Tuesday, July 17 (Day 20)

Finally, I got to experience the Scotland of the Travel Guides. We all went to see the Highland Games in Inverary (Argyle). It was a Rough Bus ride that made us all kind of weasy (it didn’t help that I was trying to swallow “A Man of Feeling” by Henry Mackenzie). Fortunately I finished that book, for which I was very grateful.

At the Highland Games, I spent lots of money. The only money I regret spending was on the fudge, which tasted like wax (Tennessee makes better fudge, it’s true). I had Venison burger for lunch, and got to try crystallized kiwi…which just isn’t worth it.

Okay. How to best describe my experianc in Inverary. First, that place is beautiful. I mean, ridiculously beautiful. I could have spent the whole day looking at the sky, and I would have had a fulfilling day. Oh, these huge storm clouds rolling over the greenest highland hills. And Inverary is situated on this lake that is SO scenic. And the bus ride there and back provides some stunning views of God’s greatest landscapes.

The Highland Games themselves were basically a track and field with a lot more kilts and bagpipes. It was really intimate and fun in a county fair kind of way. All the events occurred on small field, and they went on all day. The dancing never stopped on the stage. The running and biking never stopped around the field. The heavy weight events never stopped in the middle of the field. And bagpipe, oh the bagpipes, everywhere, all day. So we got to hear so many bagpipes, see some amazing Highland flings (that dancing is just so impressive, especially when the five year olds do it), and enjoy seeing really big dogs. I learned that the caber toss is impossible. It’s just impossible to turn over an entire tree. You have to be Goliath. Goliath couldn’t do it. I mean, it’s a tree! Really fun to watch them try, though. My favorite event was the Hammer Toss. They grounded themselves in the earth with spikes on their toes, and swung that thing around and let it go, and it would land PLOP in the earth. I loved that for some reason.

Again: UPDSTE LATER LOVE

We also got a good look at the Palace/Castle. Did you know that the Duke of Argyll lives there still? I didn’t. I felt like a snoop. But it was fun, nonetheless. There was a letter signed by Rob Roy (neat, neat, neat), and lots of swords. It’s fun looking at palaces, and their furniture, and their museum artifacts, and portraits, etc…but at the same time I’m always thinking as I walk through them “Oh, the Vanity!”

After the games ended, and the final parade of bagpipes and drums left us, we all lounged around in town a bit (some were accosted by men), waiting for our bus back. We had a wonderful time talking and laughing again. Such a cliché term, I realize (now that I conclude every day with it), but it’s the truth. That’s really what we do best. Man is a social animal.

Really a surpremely splendid day.
 

Monday, July 16 (Day 19)

Incredible Class. We talked a lot about our experiences in the Lake District (with hushed giggles from the girls who engaged in the scandalous activities).

Turns out, I got really sick. Well, the sickness was coming on Sunday (probably not helped by my trek through the mud and rain a few days before) but it got really paralyzing today. So after picking up something to eat, I headed back to the flats and slept all day.

Oh, how utterly boring, they say. Why on earth would you even bother telling us about a day in which all you did was sleep.

Well, this was no ordinary sleep. In fact, I consider it the most significant nap I’ve had this entire trip. Why? I had a dream. I think it was inspired partly by the euphoric experience at the Lake District, the divine experience on Sunday, and the endless books and words from class.

It was the dream that would change my life.

When I woke up from it, I thought, “oh, that’s interesting. I bet that would make a good story.” So I began to write it down, and it grew. It grew and grew and grew until I had a potential novel on my hands. And, it was extremely a product of my subconscious. The genre: sci-fi/fantasy. Yes. I had a dream that is making me write a fantasy novel. Last thing I ever expected myself to do. But, this story has been on my mind ever since, and has grown into something extremely fascinating. I told the basic story to some of my peers, and they are actually extremely curious and interested to see what happens. So, I slept, but my mind was at work.

That night, we played football (soccer) for Family Home Evening. So much fun. It was the Protestants against the Awesome Team (aka, the Catholics). The final score was a debate, but judging by the cathedrals, and my amazing Goalie and Defender skills, I think the Protestants won.  We ended up losing the ball and had quite an adventure getting it back, that left only about three people seriously injured.

And yet, I remained quite sick.
 

Sunday, July 15 (Day 18)

Church. Incredible. As Always. Not much time for details, but. UPDATE LATER WITH THOSE THOUGHTS YOU LIKE TO EXPAND UPON.

This day, though important because of it’s factors (3 and 5), turns out to be a very simple day that I forgot most of the details of. All I have is that church was amazing, and that I talked with my family in the afternoon and then an extremely ambigious:

What else?

Well, Katherine, I’m not sure. You were supposed to answer that.
 

Saturday, July 14 (Day 17)

For the first time since being in Scotland, I slept in. For breakfast, I departed from the bean, sausage, and tomato feast, and went for Kippers (grilled Haddock) instead. Mmm. We stopped on the bakery on our way to the bus station.

We took a double decker bus (road on the top through the wind and the rain!) to Grasmere (home of Wordsworth). Wow, what a ride. I think that’s hands down the most beautiful bus ride I’ve ever taken (that one through Idaho comes in as a close second).

Then we came back, and briefly stopped here and there, before taking a train back to Glasgow.

It seems like my time isn’t very filled up at times, but I forget to mention how much I’m reading. I read two books in the Lake District, which could explain my happiness. I also wrote a lot. So on this particular day, I just read and read and read.
 

Friday, July 13 (Day 16)

 Could this be called the best day of my life? It was an accidental day. An accidental day of joy. It began simply enough, with plans and everything, but it turned into something simply spectacular. Emphasis on simply.

I woke up early, and went on a hike to the top, top of Windermere, where I got a splendid view of the whole area, and all it’s surrounding sheepness. Oh, breathtaking. My favorite moments in Scotland have always been up high. High above the world, and enshrouded in the mist of wonder.

An English breakfast consists of toast (lots of it), cereal, juice and fruit. Then something hot. I ordered the Traditional English Breakfast, which is stewed tomatoes, beans, sausage, bacon (ham really), and eggs. Hmmm.

AGAIN, note to self: UPDATE THIS PAGE WITH THE BRILLIANCE IT DESERVES

Here’s the low-down. A group of us took a small ferry (after stopping at the tourist center and bakery) across the lake, and then preceded on a hike towards Hill Top. Well, there was a misunderstanding, or a miscommunication, or whatever you call that exciting thing that makes our lives so vibrant. And somehow, one way or another, I was left alone.

Utterly alone. On a trail to who knows where, with nothing but my hat, umbrella and utter happiness.

This is where the simply spectacular started to happen.

I got lost. Two miles lost. And I wandered, met cows and sheep, and got extremely acquinated with the English countryside. I (sorry for the crudeness) went to the bathroom in the woods, found myself ankle deep in mud, and decided to ask for directions. What a beautiful, beautiful place! The hills, and the rain, and the houses, and the sheep, and the fruit market!

Once I found myself on the path again (a few hours after I first headed out) I was so delighted that I began to jump and dance and sing. I composed a little ballad of joy. Here’s an excepert:

“Oh, it’s a bright, bonnie day,
When the mist hangs over the heather.
And you may lose your way…”

Etc. Etc. Then, what luck! I found a little stream to wash off my muddy feet in! And sooner than later, I was standing at Hill Top.

When I told the girls later of my adventures, I realized how little they were. How utterly lacking they were in a strong linear narrative, and where much more fit for an abstract movement of some sort. But really, those few hours by myself, wandering through the countryside, and finally skipping and leaping in sheer joy…well, I count them my happiest. Simple, good, pure. Very…Buddhist really.

So at Hill Top I enjoyed the gardens of Beatrix Potter (her house was regrettably closed) and spent quite some time in the gift shop, having inner debates. I concluded I wouldn’t go on to my further destinations in an attempt to follow my lost group, and instead guided another group back on the way that I had come. Along the way I had a fantastic lunch of fresh raspberries and a roll.

That’s when it began to really rain (it had rained all day) and I good soaking through.

Back in Windermere, I got icecream, and stopped at the Beatrix Potter Attraction, just to have a look. I didn’t pay, and instead made my way on the surprisingly long walk back to the hotel. Along the way I had another profound moment, when a car hit a large puddle and gave me a good shower of mud and water. A women walking by commented on the fact that now I didn’t need a shower.

And I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. What a fabulous day, full of mud, and wet, and bunnies, and laughter.

When all of us found each other (and I heard of the scandalous day my fellow travelers had engaged in without me—just a pang of jealousy) we went to dinner at a pub. I got the classic Steak and Ale pie (yum!) and shared a Sticky Toffee pudding (yummier!).

That night, we had a tea party. A real one. It was fabulous. I drank so much tea while in the Lake District. I also had so much sugar. So, we drank tea, I learned how to play poker, and we watched My Best Friend’s Wedding.

We also partied in my room, because it was simply the place to be.

Not that I need to put value on the day but it was, excellent.

Thursday, July 12 (Day 15)

Wednesday, July 11 (Day 14)

Tuesday, July 10 (Day 13)

Monday, July 09 (Day 12)

    Murray and Mackintosh

The first of our distinguished lecturers was a man by the name of Murray Pittock. He has a pleasant Scottish accent that breaks into scholarly sounding British on occasion. Our professor, Matthew Wickman, adores these Scholars of Scottish literature, and half of our fun is derived from his intense participation and ever present curtousy laughs. I sometimes feel like I’m a guest observer of a conversation full of Literature inside jokes. Murray Pittock was able to enlighten us on the influence and origins of Sir Walter Scott. My understanding of Scott in light of this influence on Scottish Literature has changed drastically and it’s rather interesting to see how much he really made Scotland what it is today. This may shake your faith in everything Scottish, but it weren’t for Scott, Scotland wouldn’t really have their image of Kilt carting, bagpipe blowing, claymore carrying, and the Haggis hounding Highlanders that they do. In fact, without Scott, those things aren’t even inherently Scottish. Shook our faith, it did. But we got over it, especially as we realized that those things may be only two hundred years old…but they’re still two hundred years old.

Afterwards, Jessica and I went to our favorite bakery. The bakery that unites us all. The bakery that lets you know you are indeed, in the United Kingdom. Gregg’s. We then made our way to the Huntarian Art Gallery and Mackintosh House. More research for papers. But what fun research! There was a massive collection of Whistler painting in the Gallery, and we had a delightful discussion with a guide in the Mackintosh house.

Okay, Mackintosh digression. Charles Rennie Mackintosh was an artist/architect who had this incredibly unique style for the early 20th Century. He and his wife, Margaret MacDonald, designed and decorated their house in their respective styles. While Mackintosh was never appreciated in his time, his brilliance and ingenuity began to find an appreciative audience around the 80’s and since then he has become an icon for both Glasgow and Scotland in general. They have since recreated his house as it would have been (now at the Huntarian Museum) and this is the man and his work that I was supposed to study. If you would like to learn more about the artist or his art, Google Charles Rennie Mackintosh, or read my paper.

After serious study, Jessica and I enjoyed a unnecessary lunch at Little Italy. I got a hot cocoa (big and rich and steamy and made me feel like I was one of the cool coffee drinkers who know they’re being watched because they sit in front of the window like I was doing) and a sandwich of corn, chicken, and mozzarella on foccocia bread. Mmm.

On the way home I got a great deal on strawberries. The good kind. The tiny juicy ones you use to make jam.

I came home and made an excellent attempt to work on papers (it seems that’s all I’ve done while I’ve been here…tried to write my papers). Instead of accomplishing anything, whoever, I ended up talking and of course, laughing with everyone I ran into. That night for Family Home Evening we each wrote down a question, mixed them up, and randomly picked one from the pile to answer. Some clever questions such as:

“If you were on death row, which I don’t know why you would be, and I don’t know if I would be friends with you if you were, but hypothetically speaking, if you were, what would you choose to be your last meal?”
or
“Which Disney Princess would you be?” (what was great about that one, was that Danny got it)

Oh, and so many others I can’t remember, but you can take my word for it, that they were utterly hilarious. These folks are pretty funny. Jack makes a habit of emphasizing his the “h” sound in everything that he says that starts with a “w”. So the phrase, “that makes me weep” sounds like “that makes me qxheep”. And if you ask Jack, “how has your day been Jack?” He replies by saying, “It was like unto a dream.” And Whitney has a habit of making great videos, such as “Conquering the world with our heads” and other such hits.

Could I capture all the moments in a bottle, I would. I’ve a limited means of communication. Which is all right. We’ll always have the memories.
 

Sunday, July 08 (Day 11)

    On Top with Death

I have a note to myself on this day. “Remember the fabulous talks.” I can’t remember them at all, but according to myself, they were fabulous. The thing is, I don’t have to remember what they said, because I can remember what I felt, as I always feel in this Glasgow Ward. Love. Just such incredible Faith and Love. If you want to meet a body of people who are sincere, self-less, friendly, faithful, hilarious, and brutally honest, come to the Glasgow Ward. Oh, I think I remember one of the talks. There was a women, who demanded that “we Scots” change. We Scottish, she said, must do better about showing our love and feelings for each other. “We need to be more affectionate!” The great thing about it was that she said it so sternly and so removed from “affectionate” that we had to laugh. They don’t beat around the bush in that ward.

After church, we took our walk through town. First we went to the Glasgow Cathedral. Cathedrals in Scotland are always paired with sad stories (the saddest in St. Andrews) because the reformation destroyed most of them. The Glasgow Cathedral still stands, thank goodness for us, because Cathedrals are…are…concentrated with something divine. Caverns built out of the earth in which the children of men could make their home out of heaven. Visiting old Cathedrals today is like walking through a thousand lives. You walk through a Cathedral and you walk where people worshipped, learned, met, were buried. You walk where the good and the bad mingled together, and history made them meet there. You’re passing through both the holy and the corrupt, for they both met at the feet of the altar. And you pass tombs of the mighty men, and the weathered graves of the forgotten. I could stare at the stories in the stained glass forever. The stained glass is where the sad story of the Glasgow Cathedral lies. Most of the original work was glass from Munich, but it was destroyed, and so they are replacing it bit by bit with what they can. Oh, I love Cathedrals.

Next to the Cathedral was the mighty Necropolis. It was an extremely tall hill, covered, painted, smothered with graves. I really do love cemeteries. I was musing over this with Amanda as we made our way through the headstones, to the very top of the hill. There is something so peaceful about a cemetery. After a long and difficult life, I would love the idea of resting in one. Especially if it was one in Scotland, because it’s so very green. Also, it’s humbling, to walk through markers of the past, and past lives. People I do not know, but names that are supposed to live in memory forever. Many of them are so old and weathered that the name as long ago disappeared from lack of care. It’s these graves that stop me the most, as I just wonder who lies in the earth there. And names. Endless names. Who are they? Are they forgotten? Who did they love? What did they live for? Why here in Glasgow? Why are they buried here?

At the top of the Necropolis are several mighty monuments. A little ridiculous. I was actually sort of upset by it. How unfair, in some ways is the two-story statue that imposes upon the graves of “common men” or the unmarked graves of lives lost at sea, or beggars in ditches. But Glasgow was a city of Merchants, so the merchants with money got the incredible headstones and miniature buildings to enclose their tomb. My resentful feelings didn’t last long either, because it was too sacred of a place to be so negative.

Interestingly enough, even in so sacred a place, we found more evidence of the bad habits in Glasgow. Many of the large tombs had graffiti all over them. Some headstones were knocked over (on purpose) and there was even a grave that looked broken into. Interesting.

My most powerful moment yet occurred on top of the Necropolis. I stood at the top of the green hill, surrounded by stone markers of all shapes and sizes. The wind was fierce that high, and it blew around me, mercilessly. I listened to the sounds of the city below (for we were in the heart of it). Lives buzzing and buzzing and beating and colliding down there. A swarm of forgetfulness. A chaos focused on forgetting that every collision led to where I stood. A quite, peaceful, green of silence and rest and death. The sounds of the dead weighed heavy on top that hill. It was not a burden, but a thick blanket of silence that thwarted out the chills of life below. Life. And. Death. And I stood in the center of it.

And it was not soon after that I was thrust into the chaos of the living again. We soon got lost. Or rather, I got lost, and found my way to a group, which then got lost. We discovered that the subways close early on Sundays, so we were left at a bus station, waiting for a bus to come by, but it never came. So instead, we swapped stories of boys. This was easy to do since we were all girls, and one of our number is engaged to get married in October. We were able to hear Jennifer’s entire dating and engagement story, which is always such a delight for us numerous females who live vicariously through our fellow tribal sisters. (I say tribe, because there’s a saying that warns off boys, “when you date a girl, you date a tribe”). This is true.

After chatting away endlessly at the Partick bus station (which we always think should be called Patrick), we decided to venture out into the street and get a sense of where we were. There on the horizon was the familiar tower of Glasgow University. And we laughed to realize we were only a few miles away from home. This was not necessarily the best news for some, since at least half of us had to go to the restroom very badly. And so we walked, and walked, and walked, and three miles later, we were home (for the girls who were about to burst, we found a bathroom on the way).

It was a good day. I also wrote down somewhere to myself this note: “Laughing with Amanda.” I believe this day was the day that I really started talking with Amanda, and discovered how hilarious she was. We walked home, weary, but laughing for three miles and more. If you haven’t noticed, you will, that many of my days in Glasgow end with laughter. I laugh the night away until I crash long after the sun sets behind the mountains in the west. Laughing here is easy when there are so many funny people. Jack and Amanda are just a few who consistently do hilarious things.

And often times, the laughing is directed towards me, not necessarily produced by my wit, but rather my utter silliness, spontaneity, and yes, stupidity.
 

Saturday, July 07 (Day  9)

    To be a Busker

House Arrest.
Why?
William of Orange.
Football, religion, alcohol and politics are closely tied together in Glasgow, so we were encouraged to stay inside today. Today is William of Orange day. A day of parades, and pride for the Protestants. It’s the day when they put on demonstrations through the Catholic neighborhoods (mostly Irish in descent). Where does football come in? Well, traditionally the Catholic Irish support the Celtic team, and the Protestant Scottish support the Rangers. We live in Rangers territory.

In addition to that.
Muslim.
Another large population of Glasgow is holding their own demonstration today in light of the Glasgow Airport bombings. They are holding their own anti-terrorism/anti-racism demonstrations.

And.
This also happens to be the day that they are supposedly holding a strike for the trains, and such in favor of higher wages.

Drunken Protestant Scots + Impassioned Muslims + Angry Labor Employees = unsafe environment for American, Mormon, Texan Girls and Boys on Study Abroad.

So our plans to walk around town were postponed, and we were encouraged to stick to the flats. However, our fool hardy boys (Jack and Danny) decided this would be a great opportunity to take pictures. So they walked right into the parade (Danny, complete with his Texan drawl) and climbed on top of buildings to take pictures of the pandemonium.

Some of us had mixed opinions about their behavior, like jealousy or curiosity. But most of us thought the same things: Idiots.

My day was spent getting things done. What things, you might ask? Reading mostly. A group of us decided that we wanted to do something so we went to Ashton Lane (suggested by the women at the front desk when we were looking for movie theatres) and had lunch at the Wee Curry Shop. Wow. A delicious experience. We fell in love with that little lane, and it’s shops, and it’s fabulous options for incredible food. The Wee Curry Shop is Indian. I got the Chicken Korma with pita bread. Incredible. Mouth-watering. Words are incapable of description. After we ate, we watched a Busker (the official word for street musician) playing his guitar and harmonica.

That’s when I decided that I was going to become a Busker and take a caravan around the United States of America, writing down my experiences, and busking all over, interviewing people as I went along and I would apply for an Orca Grant to do it, and then write the whole experience into a play which I would perform as a one women show at BYU. I first practice my skills of busking in the streets of Edinburgh with my penny whistle.

Interestingly enough, I’ve learned a lot about busking since I was inspired by that guitarist. There is a town in Scotland that had it banned because this guy came into their town and could only play the Archie Gang theme song on his penny whistle over and over again, and not very well. If you want to play the bagpipes, you have to have a permit, and there are laws of all sorts. I know. I tried it in St. Andrews. But I’ll get to that later.

I spent the rest of the day doing what I do best. Procrastinating.
 

Friday, July 06 (Day  8)

    Continual Candy Cravings

If there is a park called “Kelvingrove Park” and a museum called “Kelvingrove Museum” and there is a subway stop called “Kelvin Bridge”, you might assume, by association that they were all near one another.

Not so.

Sarah, Amanda, and I discovered this when we decided to take the “faster” way to the Kelvingrove museum. We were extremely proud of ourselves since the place we found instead was beautiful. Worthy of italics beautiful. The path we took led us under a huge bridge (which we assumed to be the Kelvin Bridge) and Amanda played her Amazing Grace on her penny whistle  and we felt like we had wandered into some enchanted glen. After about fifteen minutes of this wandering, however, we were starting to suspect that our stroke of good luck was actually a misfortune. While we kept our spirits up, glad that we had seen some beautiful places…about 45 minutes later, we finally found the museum. Upon finding the museum we also discovered that we could have walked just a few blocks from the University, rather than taking the subway. C’est la vie!

At the Kelvingrove Museum (which I should perhaps mention is my favorite place in Glasgow, along with the park) I focused my studies on one room this time. I was assigned to study and write a paper on a group of painters called the Glasgow Boys, who painted from 1885-1890. The whole room smelt like lime, and the colors made me spin. But this was particular fun for me, and I enjoyed writing away in my notebook and looking like a studious college student who studies art. I love art. I love museums. If you give them enough time, you can have incredible experiences. I am always amazed by how much I feel when I take the time to look at a painting.

Afterwards, Amanda and I finally completed my quest for finding penny whistles, when we went to McCormicks on Bath Street. I found my Irish whistle! I spent the rest of the afternoon making pretty melodies. I taught myself how to play “Amazing Grace”, “Danny Boy”, A few hymns, Auld Lang Syne, Pippin’s Song, and Shire theme. Of course the repertoire keeps growing.

That night was spectacular. A big group of us went to Cineworld, which holds the Guinness World Record for the tallest Cinaplex in the world. Such fun. We bought tickets to The Flying Scotsman and rode up the neon blue escalators, to ride down the glass elevator from the top, and then up and down again. Outside our theatre (floor three) there was a ginormous candy selection. I bought about three pounds of assorted candy, and it was the greatest candy experience. Nothing has rivaled it since (but it did act up my sweet tooth, which I haven’t been able to abate).

The movie is about a famous cycling Scot who beat the world 1-hour record, and also battled with severe bi-polar disorder. It starts with him walking through a forest with a noose. We thought we were coming to a regular inspiration sports movie, but it ended up being about so much more, and it was really very moving. It hit a lot of personal chords with me. And boy, did it engender some Scottish zeal and pride in us. We were cheering by the end. And excellent quote from the movie:

“The English and their temper.”-German sponsor

“You’ll see a temper if you call me English again.” –Graeme Obree

If you want to see it, it’s hard to find in the States, since it’s on limited release. And it will most likely be rated R (it’s 15 here), because there’s a fight where the F word is tossed around a bit. The F word acts as both a greeting, sign of affection, insult, and weapon here in Scotland. Really. If there’s one thing you can KNOW about the Scots in Glasgow, is that they love the F word. I’m not sure if they know any other cuss words. Its jarring affects on my ears have lessoned quite a bit since I’ve been here, since it rains from the air like the ash from their cigarette butts.

Welcome to Glasgow. As we like to say.

Anywho, it was our first night out really late, and we had an excellent, mind-numbing, invigorating, hard-core fun sort of time. We bonded.
 

Thursday, July 05 (Day  7)

Wednesday, July 04 (Day  6)

Tuesday, July 03 (Day  5)

Monday, July 02 (Day  4)

Sunday, July 01 (Day  3)

Saturday, June 30 (Day 2)

Friday, June 29 (Day 1)

This page needs to be edited sitll.

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July 6 22:58

Continuing where I left off, the third of July was just so happy. We ended up walking down the grand shopping area of Buchanan Street, Sachiehall Street, St. George Square, Queen Street, St. Echo, etc. We discovered THE WILLOW TEA ROOM, and we decided to go in and get some short bread. We ended up being extremely silly, and laughing, and laughing, and there was something about it all that made it so fabulous. I ended up getting the Fennel tea (they were out of shortbread!). The four of us (Sarah, Whitney, Amanda, and I) ended up creating some great memories.

 Then we walked around, and discovered Glasgow (we were looking for Penny Whistles). We found St. George Square (I think) where there are several statues of famous Scottish individuals such as Sir Walter Scott, and Robert Burns. We discovered how much fun downtown Glasgow is (a really hopping place) and vowed to come back.

 Then Amanda and I rushed to get our shopping done before we all met at the Botanic Gardens for "Bard in the Botanic", aka Shakespeare in the Park. It was "A Midsummer Night's Dream". Earlier that day, on the way to the Burrell Collection, we got the hardest downpour we've had so far (My pants were soaked, even with my umbrella), but, in true Glasgow fashion, it was all cleared up, and just misting in the park. 

The play was just so enjoyable. I had a great time, because they staged it in such a way that made it really accessible. It only had five actors, five fabulous actors, that played mulitple roles, and it was really quite brilliant. It struck me really down deep too.

So that day, with the inspiring museum, the laughter, the fun, and then some more laughter with a little thought provoking text thrown in, made for a spectacular day.

 JULY 5th was also a fabulous day. It started with classes, which are always...life changing. Dean Duncan says things in such a way that strikes one to the core, and he covers all his bases in such an expansive and dense way that it's hard to swallow everything that's coming out. Matt Wickman is funny, and extremely passionate. He too is brilliant, but a little easier to digest. With the two of them, I come out of classes in this strange Euphoria. I love, love, love learning, especially with them. It's the new ideas, the new perspectives, the better ways to say things, and discover things. I am always deeply moved, and deeply inspired. Learning is my "muse."

 So what did I do the rest of the day? After getting a Margarita pizza at an italian resturaunt, i headed to the Glasgow University library, where I spent 4+ hours writing, and then the next two-ish looking up Robert Burns poems for my paper. The English Literature is on the ninth floor (Scottish Literature is sadly caterogized as English Literature in the library, which is something the Scots are always fighting against, and I'm beginning to get passionate about really), and there are these huge windows that over look the city, and the University. So from where I was, I could look out and see this beautiful beautiful building.

And apart of me asked...why not go to school here?

So after figuring out the ways of the copying machines, I headed towards Gilmore Theatre to see a "Absolute Zero", a "musical/dance/thing" about Lord Kelvin. We didn't know what to expect...and we...well, we were really very shocked and deeply moved by the experiance.

It ended up being an original interpretive dance performance with traditional/modern music, mostly performed by individuals with down syndrome. It was moving, it was weird, it was poignant, it was funny.

It was only 30 minutes long. So afterwards, Dean Duncan took us to Kelvin Grove park, and we sat on the grass and talked about it. That discussion, I'll never forget, or I hope I never forget. We talked about non-preconceptional approaches to things. We talked about the way we judge people, our own feelings, the mentally or physically handicapped. We talked about selfishness, service, and life. There were tears shed. It was intimate. It was special. It was really, very moving. It helps when Dean is so...sincere and brilliant.

 So then I came home, thinking a lot, and stayed up reading, and writing, and thinking.

It should also be mentioned that we had the chance to meet Billy Boyd. He was filming a movie on the street we were on, so he came to see the production. Poor guy, us American girls (all 18 of us) swarmed him afterwards, and asked for autographs and pictures. I felt kind of bad, but hey, it's Pippin! So that was exciting. Though Dean's chastisement (just that morning in lecture) about celebrity obsession was echoing in my mind.

But this is the conversation I had with Billy Boyd, while he signed my ticket.

Me: So did you practice your signature when you were little, just in case?

BB: Oh yea (or an of course)....did you?

Me: (laugh, embarrassed nod) Yea 

BB: Glad to know I"m not the only one.

JULY 6TH, we got on a train to Edinburgh!  Today, we spent all day there. We saw the castle (and all it's museums) and then I walked around the city a bit. I was very dissapointed today because I couldn't find our group at the meeting place, so I didn't get to climb Sir Arthurs Seat, and I'm still a little sore about it. But I tried Haggis! And I bought a miniture set of bagpipes, which so far, I've only gotten squiking noises out of. It's been endless entertainment for everyone, and I'm kind of officially the class clown now.

Edinburgh has a great charm too it. It's castle (stunning, beautiful, amazing) with the crown jewels, moving memorials, and deep history makes it ideal for any touring experiance. But as i walked the streets (which will get more and more fun, as the artists come to flock it), I was very grateful we're staying in Glasgow. Edinburgh is a tourist town, and Glasgow is very much a city that occasionally has the tourtists, but not enough to make it the center. There's so much to see everywhere--in Edinburgh, Glasgow, all around! I may be here for 6 weeks, but I'll only get to see so little. Which means I'll just have to come back!

So I got back (after a few more ordeals) and I've spent the last few hours just laughing with the girls in the floor above me. We've already planned (with my encouragement) a sort of prank for the next few weeks. This is such a fun group of people.

Tomorrow is an anything day, so we'll be seeing more of Glasgow, more of Kelvin Grove hopefully, and maybe, I'll actually do some homework.

 So there is a group in the flat next to us that have been singing French songs for about an hour now. I think there a choir here on tour, and it's really, really fun to have them singing "La la la la la la la la la" over and over again.

July 4 7:20

Happy America Day!

Here in Scotland, we're having the time of our lives. Yesterday, was one of that most joyous, happiest days I've ever experianced. Looking back on the details, i can't really tell you why entirely, except that I was just so happy to be alive, and where I was, everywhere I was, with who I was with. 

We began our day with a train ride from Central Station (very Harry Potter-ish) to the Burrell Collection near Pollackshaw West (I'm just going to throw out these names, because they're very fun to say). The story behind the Burrell Collection is an interesting one. It all began with William Burrell, who left school at 14 and made his very first purchase of art, and he became a professional collector. He was really good with money, and had a lot of foresight with shipping and such, so he became a very, very wealthy man. And so, he bought things from all around the world, including Egypt, China, Greece and Rome. So it's this wonderful conglomeration of STUFF, with really no rhyme or reason to it. He has the largest collection of Degas anywhere, and some Whistler, Cezanne, gigantic tapestries from the middle ages, armor, fireplaces, archways, and Rodan's "The Thiker" and "The Age of Bronze." For any of you art buffs out there, you realize how very awesome that is.

So I enjoyed, really enjoyed, just walking around and enjoying all his stuff. I want to become a collector of art one day...but it's just so much money. What added to the experience is the Collection is in the middle of this fairy forest. You have to walk a little trail to get to it, and the nature is spectacular. Prince Charles agrees with us, as he was playing Crockett nearby.

 Afterwards, we had plans to go home, and READ! But, it ended up being an entirely spontaneous day with much laughter.

Continued above.

July 3 7:40

LEAVING WHERE I left off, I spent the afternoon of the thirtieth primarily roaming the city with Sarah, after we got our bus passes with the group and volunteered ourselves to go on a two-three hours tour of Glasgow. We saw some incredible sights, marvelous historical buildings, and I discovered a great new love of mine: Kelvin Grove Park. I also discovered Pasties, which I must say, I have a guilty pleasure for. They are savory or sweet gigantic hot pockets with the flakiest crust, and the most delicious fillings. Mmm! 

We all headed to the MItchell Library on the tour together, but around there we all got split up, or decided to go home, and so it was just Sarah and I, and I soon discovered how picture happy Sarah is. I'll let the pictures tell the story of my afternoon adventure.

In the aftternoon, I got a call from my Dad, and discovered the news about the Glasgow bombing. I'll talk more about that later.

That evening I enjoyed one of my baths in the yellowish/green water, and tried to get some of my reading done.

SUNDAY, was the most marvelous experience of my whole trip thus far. We attended the Glasgow Stake here (and for some reasons, church buildings still look the same in Scotland...I think we may need a new architect) for church, and it was...incredible. We began with a combined Relief Society and Priesthood meeting on preparedness, which was fun to see the Scottish take on food storage (or home storage, as they call it). Then we attended Sunday School with the other single adults, and I just, words can't describe how incredible these people are. They're complete openness, humor, faith, and eleqoence is unparralelled by anything I've seen. It was so much fun to attend church, where we really got to know the people on such an intimate level.

Then we had Sacrament meeting, which was the fast and testimony meeting. To see the way they respond to things (such as the Glasgow bombing) was very telling of the British people, and of Scotland in general. The bishop said, "I want to remind you that Scotland is a very safe country, apart from the rain. If you look up too much, you might drown."  There was a young man (the most attractive looking Scot, I must add) who had just gone to the temple and who was leaving for his mission in a month. And guess where he's going? Texas! 

There are five of us Texans on this trip, so you can imagine our excitement. We sort of floored him afterwards, trying to give him all this advice about Texan pride, good tex mex, Wal-mart, etc. In return he gave us some advice about how to wash our clothes, and the things we have to try while we're here. It was the best ice breaker. Turns out though, we didn't really need one. We've all kept talking about this, but I've never felt so welcomed and accepted in my life. They were the friendliest people I've met. And they're just so funny and delightful. They treat sacred subjects soberly, but they are never afraid to make fun of themselves (or us) in a most appropriate way. 

I must say, it was also nice to see what form "Mormonism" takes when it's so removed from the American cultural aspects that so define it back in the states. It's wonderful, and beautiful, and simple. But, boy they must have it hard here, where every honest Glaswegian gets good and drunk on the weekends. I know already, that of everything I see and hear and learn, those simple, quite, and sincere meetings in the little church on Julienne Avenue will be my favorite and most treasured part of this whole experiance.

 That evening, I was able to talke with my family over Skype, which was nice.

ON MONDAY, we had our first day of class! Our classroom is in the Scottish Literature buidling, which is an 18th century townhouse, across from the magnificent gothic (I think) buildings of the University of Glasgow. I think it should be mentioned that my professors are concentrated genius. Both lectures were so...deeply striking to the core, that I'm still digesting it all. And I also have so much homework to do, it's ridiculous. But I find that all I do instead, is type and write my time away...

One of my classes is a field trip type class, where I'll be traveling across town to study different pieces of art, film, literature, architecture, etc. and then writing papers here and there on it. I really, really, really should get started on that. I also need to read 200 pages of Rob Roy!

So after class we headed to University Cafe on Byres Road, where we were or parasitic, American selves, and the annoyed Scottish locals cursed us in French (little did they know that may of us spoke French). We had to get our "chips" (which are fries) with salt and vinegar. And I got the mystery meat "Gammon", which actually ended up being a salad with ham. We also inaugurated ourselves into Glasgow by drinking IRON BRU, which is the local must-have soda. Here's my experiance in pictures.

 It tastes like orange flavored cough syrup that's trying to be bubblegum flavored toothpaste.

A group of us headed to the Kelvin Grove Art and Gallery Museum. Benefits of going to Glasgow: all the museums are free! FREE! And we don't have to be the ones that pay the taxes! Oh, do I have to enumerate on how much Art Galleries and museums affect me? I love them so much, and I only got to see a fourth of this one. I'm going to go back again and again and again. I just love the way it all makes me...feel.

The above picture is of the Kelvin Grove Art Museum and Gallery, and below it is one of it's exhibits. It's a bunch of white heads with extreme facial expressions, floating in the air. 

After spending time there, and taking another stroll through Kelvin Grove Park, we headed to the chapel to have our Family Home Evening. We ended up playing Hot Seat, in an effort to get to know each other better. Well, we sure did, and it was real fun for me, since my true colors (I tried to suppress them as long as I could) began to show as I asked the oddest questions. It was all delightful, except for maybe when I was in the Hot Seat. You know, no matter how much you try to hide it, you're just going to end up being yourself, and you just have to hope people like you the way you are. Turns out, I like and love everyone on this trip. These are great, great, great, great people. 

Afterwards, oh yes, we finally went to the Crepe and Croissant, a resturaunt/cafe I've had my eyes on for some time now. I ended up getting the croissant with bacon, sundried tomatoes, and mozzerella with a hot chocolate. Oh yumminess. On the way home, Danny was asked if he knew where he could find drugs, and that's when we noticed how very, very late it was. It was 10:30, and it was still light out! 

It was a great, wonderful, long, short day. But I wanted to talk about the GLASGOW BOMBINGS briefly. The bishop came to our Family Home Evening last night and sort of explained things to us. He pointed out that as we may have noticed, nobody has really cared about it, or been much chagrined, and he was the only one at church who mentioned in their testimonies. "That's just the way us Brits deal with it, we just move on." He shrugged, and told us they were just used to it, but if we had any issues with it, or concerns, to please let him know. We all sort of, I guess along with the mentality here, weren't bothered by it either. We actually ended up laughing about it during his little talk (that's just the way it is here), but he did give us some good insight into the political situation.

Why Glasgow? Well, the new Prime Minister is Scottish, so while they've usually only attacked London and Manchester, because they are the biggest cities, they attacked Glasgow this time as a sort of welcome gift for the new Prime Minister. But he also pointed out how safe Scotland really is, particulalry because they are much more laid back than the English, so there really isn't much racial tension up here. "You don't find many radical Muslims up here because, Ech" (he shrugged) "whatever, come on in, sure." And I've found that to be very true. It's very easy to assimilate into the Scottish culture, because they are so accepting and laid back. Maybe that's why I don't feel at all out of place. It's not Paris!

 Well, today, we're taking the tube to the Burrell Collection, a fine and fabulous art museum, and then this evening we're going to see "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in the Botanic Gardens. That should be fun, considering they are speaking in Scottish accents. Tomorrow is class again (hopefully I'll do my homework) and then we're going to see a musical about Lord Kelvin. We're all pretty stoked about that, because it could be very good, or very bad. 

I hope everyone has a fabulous Independence Day! We'll be holding our own celebration by eating strawberries with real double cream!

June 30 12:10

Let's begin by talking about how wonderful Glasgow smells. I could breathe in Scotland forever! The scent on the air is overwhelmingly delicious. It's a very sweet scent, that holds in it a mixture of all my fondest memories. It smells like the Oregon coast, our trip to Cape Cod, Grandma's rose bushes, the Brookings, strawberry preserves in Buffalo, New York, and whale watching. That's it...water.

 It is easy to love the landscape of a country when it's primary colors are blue, green and white. Blue of the rivers, lochs, and canals, green of the endless vegetation, and the white of the continual clouds that loom over the sky.

 I noticed the colors when I first touched down in Glasgow, after a few layovers in Austin and in Newark. After surviving customs (truly the scariest experience so far), and getting my bags, I waited in front of the sliding doors that led to the outside, and thus the city, for nearly ten minutes. Then, when I had mustered up enough courage and confidence, I burst through the doors and was swept up in the confusion and chaos of busing. 

I met a nice French speaking Canadian on the bus, and I got an excellent view of the city. Driving on the left really does something to ones brain and body. Instead of yeild signs, it says "Give Way". After a very fast, tail-gating ride, I was abandoned in the middle of the city with no sense of direction. So I did what any other traveler would do. I followed the crowd. I found myself a taxi, hopped in, and headed towards my flat. I discovered quickly that 1) I adore the Scottish accent (the lighter, west end version, I encountered the harder brogue later on, and it's a wonder they call it English) and 2) it's true what they say about the Scots sense of humor.

Quotes from my taxi driver:

"You can experiance all four seasons in one day in Glasgow."

"The say the only different between Summer and Winter in Glasgow is the rain in the summer is warmer"

"I hope you didn't live in the lap of luxury. The dwellings here are a bit Spartan, as they say."

"I don't read. It's a bit boring."

"The reason the British never attacked was because of the Maggies." (Maggies are little bugs, that eat you alive with with bites that itch horribly. But, as he pointed out, they don't carry malaria.)

"I have to sleep with a bag over my head, and don't be thinking it's cause I'm ugly neither."

My flat is situated along the Firth and Clyde canal, and from my window I have a view of Ruchill park. When I first arrived at the office, my room wasn't ready, so the lady at the front desk (another beautiful accent) locked my bags in a room, gave me a map to the city, and told me to head down this and that road to get food.

And thus began my great adventure through Glasgow. I estimate that I walked about 10-15 miles total. I went down Maryhill drive, Great Western Road, Byres Road, University Avenue, and all over. I saw parks, libraries and churches. I stopped in a grocery store and bought myself a Mozzarella ball. I observed fun frozen foods such as:

Toad in a Hole, Cottage Pie, Beef Stew with Dumplings, Barbecue Chicken with Wedges, and Liver, Bacon and Mash.

 I passed rows of little stores, shops, and bars that served everything from pizza to donner kabobs, but no haggas! Some things I observed. There are a great deal of little old woman, and old men with canes. Everyone has a dog, and children roam the city and streets either without parents or on leashes. 

 I went to the University and gazed at the majestic and ancient buildings there. Stopped at places really whenever i felt like it, and just kept breathing in the wonderful smells.

And then i got good and lost. While it makes for a good story, that really wasn't particularly my favorite part of the day. It involved lots of walking, and aching legs, and observing small backyards filled with gnomes or rose bushes, until I found my good old friend, the canal. I then walked along the canal till I hit my flats, where I discovered that I had done a nearly complete circle around the city.

I came back in time to discover three other travelers, and our rooms all ready. I unpacked my parcels, and then we all went shopping (I as the guide). Then we roamed the streets again and found ourselves a cafe, where we did understand a word the women said to us. We ended up eating Donner Kabobs (after having a run in with Dr. Duncan, hurray) it Ruchill park. Then I took a bath in the "bathroom" where the hot and cold water faucets are seperate, and finally gave my aching legs some genuine relief.

The sun sets around 10:30 here, and it's bright by 4:30, so I got up around 5:30 to the sun just hitting the dew in the park. I took a walk there this morning, and discovered a spot. You know, the magical spot that you'll romanticize when you come home, or that you write about in your journal, or that you always go to to think. Well, I found it. It's underneath the willow-like tree on top of a hill, overlooking a few rose beds. 

Weather: volatile beyond description. I really have experianced all four seasons, and that was in the first two hours i was here yesterday, though it still really hasn't rained yet. 

Due to endless delays all around, the people from my group are trickling, and we're getting acquinted as they do. We are so obviously American, I think it will be impossible to stifle it. Here's how you can tell. We're bold, energetic, loud, and stupid. We seem stupid because we're not smooth. We give more information than we probalby should when apoligizing, make a production of nearly everything, and we're not very subtle. I wonder why that all is, but while I was able to remain pretty inconspicuous on my own, I can see that as a group, we will be clear stand outs. I think it is perhaps because we are too self-aware of our own silliness. So in an attempt to cover it up, like rubbing a stain out of a shirt, we end up smothering it, and spreading it all around so all the world can observe it.

Well, I know enough about myself to know that I don't have a reputation for being so subtle or brief as many would like. I'm right the opposite, prolific and long winded. So, I've said what I've done, but let me just mention briefly about how I feel, because that's where the whole beauty comes out anyhow.

I have to remind myself often that I'm in a different country. There is a funny thing, that I also thing is very American, about it all. I feel a sort of ownership with every place I walk. I don't feel foreign, or at least THAT foreign too much. It's earth, so therefore, I can be here and belong, and feel like I belong, which I do. It's only when I look left then right, do I remember that perhaps I am in a foreign country. But I also feel so acquainted with the culture here through movies, books, and life experiences. I look out over the hills and think sometimes I'm in Oregon, or Washington (very similar), and that I haven't really left at all. But I'm quite positive, that as the days go, I'll discover exactly where I am.

Oh, and it should be mentioned that I'm extremely happy. Actually being somewhere is an interesting thing. It's difficult to drink the entirety of the moment, which is perhaps why we place so much emphasis on the anticipation and the memory. The three are very important, perhaps the last one being the most. For even as I recollect my previous wanderings, don't they have such value because of the memory, and tomorrow has so much value because of the anticipation? We are held in the balance of the both. Which is probably why I'm so attracted to both reading and writing, for that is really all that they are.

Well, I'm off to the Botanic Gardens (again) and then to Hills Head (I always want to say Hogsmeade) to buy our bus/train/metro passes. I think we'll go to a pub this evening...why not!?!

June 27

12:47 pm

Well, I’m all packed up, and I’m seeing visions of how silly and dazed I’ll look as a stupid American who steps out of the Glasgow airport trying to carry all my bags, and hold a map, and call a taxi. I’m seeing visions of this stupid American getting lost on the first day, and being entirely unprepared and oblivious to everything. I see myself having the time of my life! I’m ready to flaunt my stupidity. And really, when it comes down to all the packing and preparations, that ones the most important. 

I leave from Austin at 11:46 am and arrive in Newark at 4:42 pm (note: In Scotland I'm going to use good old military time).  Then I'll depart Newark 7:35 pm and I arrive in Glasgow at 7:30 am. Ten Hours, 41 Minutes in a plane. I'm meeting some fellow students in Newark (we're on the same flight to Glasgow), and we're planning on grabbing a taxi together to get to our flat (Flats! I'm living in a Flat!). He he. This is going to be great.

I'm so ready to flaunt my stupidity.

June 26

7:18 pm

I've been pretty excited to leave for Scotland (two days!) but that excitement was really amplified, or I should say, verified, when I read an email today from Susanne Gilmour. Susanne is from Scotland, and I love to hear the accent drip through her words in her emails. She and I have been trying to work out a way that I could get one of my textbooks, and it's been a bit of a fiasco, so it was decided that she would have the book waiting for me when I arrived in Glasgow.

She referred to my package as A PARCEL! I've never been so excited in my life to visit a different country, where they use the word Parcel frequently! Suddenly, it made it all very real. 

Ironically, the book in question arrived at my home today. I should say, the parcel arrived...