Day 1: Flying to Glasgow.

(sorry about the formatting-- using my iPad and it's not the best for formatting)

I'll admit that there was a moment Friday night--somewhere off the coast of Greenland when I was feeling sleepless, cranky and cramped on the plane--when I wondered "why do we do this?"  It took about ten minutes of wandering around Glasgow last night with Dale, S and B to know exactly why we do this.  

We met up with S&B at Heathrow and got into Glasgow in the late afternoon.  We took a cab in and watched the city unfold in front of us.  Passing the Glasgow School of Art in the cab, we talked with the driver about the recent fire.  According to our driver, the fire hadn't destroyed as much as was once feared: a relief, to be sure.  When I asked "do they know what caused it?" and he responded dryly, "A fire, I suspect."  Lord love the Scots.  

Our hotel-- where I am writing this now on a break between wandering and dinner-- is pretty darn cool.  This photo is the scene ahead of me as I write.  It's one of the most interesting and refreshingly unusual hotels we've ever stayed at.  The rooms seem like rather spacious minimalist train berths/ space pods.  All the controls for the room (lights, temperature, blinds, TV, alarm clock, lighting mood--including colour!) are on a tablet where you can also check email, log into Facebook and Twitter.  I've had a lot of fun changing the colour of the lights: they're a lovely pink colour now. The corridors feature sayings like this Finnish proverb: "Don't buy a pig in a bag."  Asthetically awesome, technologically cool and educational.  What else might you want from a hotel? I also loved the soap which came in a box that said "Designed to turn even the longest-haul traveller into a sparkling clean and nice-smelling human being again."  It seemed particularly appropriate after a long travel day. 

Our theory on travel and time zone changes is that the sooner you can get into the rhythms of the time zone, the better off you are.  We crashed for an hour and then headed out for an exploratory wander.

  

We walked to George Square, checked out various statues.  It didn't take me long to find Robert Burns-- looking roughishly pensive--and Sir Walter Scott--looking removed and indifferent atop his pedestal and pillar.  I bid them a fond hello (especially Rabbie) and we wandered off to find something Maureen told me to look for: Wellington with a cone on his head.  I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for but at the end of a block I had no doubt we found what we were looking for.  There, mounted upon a fine looking steed, was the Duke with a bright orange traffic cone on his head.  Glasgow started working its way into my affections right there.  Today, at a street fair, we saw a living statue of Wellington-- complete with the fabric orange cone and a number of other statues with orange cones on their heads. Quite impressive-- all of it, on many fronts.  Well done, Glasgow. 

Dale worked his Yelp magic and found us a great place for dinner-- the menu offered a haggis appetizer (with a vegetarian haggis which I respectfully declined).  We drifted some more-- trying to stay up as late as we could-- and trying a number of different beers. At one pub, four lads asked S to take a picture of them and in return, they bought him a glass of whiskey and when one got up to do karaoke he dedicated his version of a Train song to the fine country of Canadia.  We were all quite touched.  Glasgow was kind to us on our first night.  We went to sleep exhausted but excited about this trip.  As I drifted off, I responded to my plane-trapped self: "this is why we travel."