[fiction, instead of lies]

I’m wandering the city this gray and cold Sunday, imagining it through the eyes of people who’ve never been here.

A city street in afternoon twilight.

We moved from SF when I was four or five, so I never got to do much more than walk to the laundromat with Mom, and ride the Muni bus with Dad. In the suburbs, the bus stop was too far away for my parents to feel comfortable with me taking public transportation, and so, sadly, I never really did it. I’m making up for that now, in Glasgow. I sold my lovely car and haven’t driven now in almost three years. Makes me wonder sometimes if I still know how.

Though there are plentiful buses and taxis, this is foremost a walking city, and when you get lots of walkers, you occasionally get lots of chaos. Thus there are always police walking the beat. It took me awhile when I first got to this country to figure out who was doing what – fortunately, anyone on foot patrol can tell you how to get to the nearest train station, so you don’t feel as silly as you might in a restaurant trying to order your meal from, say, the bus boy…

These are actual policemen, complete with their radios and telescoping batons. (It disturbed me that the (perhaps slang?) word, “batten” here is the verb form of what happens with that baton when one is drunk/disorderly. Gives a whole new meaning to “batten down the hatches.”)

Ah, those fine yellow jackets.

Other people on the street as we walk are the gloved traffic wardens, aka crossing guards; parking patrol, the ladies in natty navy bowler hats, with checkerboard bands; and the mounted patrol — which are usually seen in pairs all year round, but most thickly in summer and fall, when there are outdoor festivals and the like. Those horses are massive, and truly inspire fear in most city-dwellers; all a patrol person has to do is ride up the street, and crowds bail for side streets and run for cover. I like horses, but though I didn’t run for cover, neither did I rush up to them and beg to pet them.

Sorry for the photo quality – took this with the phone.

Glasgow is a sprawling city — really made up of a bunch of small towns and neighborhood districts that got morphed together sometime in the 80′s; there are people who insist that parts of Glasgow are not Glasgow. The University is in Hillhead, we have friend in Maryhill, Anderson, Finneston, and Charing Cross… and all of that is still Glasgow. Theoretically. Well – not my debate, it’s hard enough not to get lost in the bits that I’m sure are Glasgow! On our walk today, we cruise through Merchant City, which is historically where the middle class lived — the middle class being shopkeepers. I love that so many UK cities have clearly historical neighborhood names. There’s Grassmarket in Edinburgh — where grass-eating things were sold, live — and then Haymarket – horses! There was also a meat district, undoubtedly.

I always have to keep in mind that titled people in the United Kingdom historically didn’t dirty their hands with actual buying and selling — it was acceptable to have your money in shipping with the East India company, but you needn’t actually ever a.) get on a ship, b.) go to India, c.) know anything about what you were shipping, whether it be tea or opium. Our building has a buzzer that’s for “Trade,” and yes, it’s a buzzer for the back door. As I blow past on my way to my flat through the front door, that still kind of kills me.

This is just to give you an idea… imagine if the lights were ON.

At this point in our walk downtown, we’re window-shopping. Merchant City has a lot of great shopping, so there are windows galore. This part of the city is just a maze, and it’s always filled with crowds. As we know that I kind of loathe shopping and crowds, it’s just not my favorite place — but it’s so pretty. All the color and the marvelous architecture, and white “fairy lights” strung between the buildings… With its streets of coffee shops and pubs, offering live music, and fancy little restaurants, it’s a great place for a night walk — but that’s not what we’re doing now! Back to our little trek, and let’s pick up the pace, shall we?

Behold! Our destination!

Today’s trip downtown leads us to the Glasgow Museum of Art. The GOMA has a very iconic horseman dude in front – which most of the time has a very famous hat… an orange traffic cone. It’s a rare day that he’s seen without it, and the city doesn’t bother to remove it very often – if they do, someone will always replace it.

Meet you at the Horse!

Even if you’re not a museum buff, the walk through the lively city, teeming with people, bussing huffing past, random pipers standing on the street corner, busking and begging — is invigorating, if not a little overwhelming. Time for a quiet poke through the bizarre and amusing modern art exhibits, and then, on this cold, gray day, maybe a stop for a quiet cup of tea, and a spot of people-watching.

The perfect vantage point; a perfect end to a cold day’s walk.

Happy Sunday. Thanks for stopping by.