Sylvia's Journal

In Boston, when you ask about the weather, you are supposed to say, “wait a minute.’’ But here in Scotland we learn what fast changing weather really means. Boston, and New England, have rather stable weather patterns compared to here.  You can literally have all seasons in one hour. A day in Glasgow required layers: a tank top for when the sun is out, a cardigan for when the sun disappears behind dark clouds which can come out of nowhere, a rain jacket for when it starts to sprinkle and an umbrella and more serious rain jacket  (a Mackinosh) when all hell breaks loose. No snow and sleet yet.

After my haircut and Axel’s nap we sauntered around the neighborhood of the hotel – which is visibly influenced by Mackintosh, all art nouveau and decently priced as well. Again, the staff is from other continents – it appears that Scots either cannot or want not work in the hospitality industry.

We found a lunch place that advertises its offerings accompanied by data on calories and proteins and such. We could have known since it is called Kcal. The name seemed rather boring or scientific but the menu was wonderful. It clearly catered to the young and health conscious working people employed in the neighborhood. Since I am not checking on weight these two weeks, we ate, as we do all the time, with abandon.

We sorted out the bus system and made our way to see various Mackintosh legacies – first The Lighthouse. We clambered all 500 or so steps to the top of the Lighthouse to survey the city scape of Glasgow. A friend had told us that Glasgow was industrial, awful, grimy, ugly. And besides it rains there all the time.  It is probably good to go to a place with no expectations at all. It led to some pleasant surprises.

Our second Mackintosh stop was the Hunterian Art Gallery to admire the family home of the MacDonald/Mackinstoshes that has been re-assembled inside the gallery. We arrived rather late in the day, just an hour before closing. 

After the Mackinosh’s house, we had just enough time to admire the many fabulous life size portraits of women painted by Whistler. The women in these portraits are truly ‘magnifique.’ I wished they’d been exhibited all by themselves against a white background.

Much like the fishmonger in Portobello, closing up time means turning the key and stepping out of the building. Thus, preparations for closing start long before the actual closing time.  By the time we were ushered out by a gaggle of museum employees hovering by the exit door the toilets were already locked. 

We ended our day in a pub, where else, me sampling another interesting whiskey and Axel a pint. Across the street we noticed a fish restaurant and, as by invisible threads, were drawn there. More oysters, more salmon,  and a gin tonic sampling a few more of Scotland’s great gins.  We think Glasgow is a cool place to visit and two days is much too short.