Glasgow to Stirling, Scotland
I've been in Glasgow alone today, a beautiful day, Sunshine and all, a bit partly cloudy. I woke at 9:15 for some reason, the room-mate from last night in the shostel left this morning at 5:00 or earlier, though he didn't arrive until 1:00.
The alehouse I'm at now has the largest selection of Scotch I've ever seen, notably 10 kinds of Bowmore. This morning, I showered and was out before 10am, on the internet to get 4 replies to my 1st email, and out into the beautiful sunshine to take photos and look for breakfast. I ate cyprotic, took take-out falafel to the museum grounds, then toured Kelvin museum for a long time. It is currently 14:00, and I"m going to find a train to Stirling, purchase my ticket, and gather my luggage at the hostel, a mile away. I'll return for the latest train I can get and still get another hostel in Stirling. Liosmor Whisky Bar. Barchan Ale.
What would be the point of a trip to far off unknown cities without a little loosing oneself in the suburbs. After I left Kelvingrove Museum, I tried to follow the sun and my memory SE. I must have achieved instead moving directly south, and ended up, literally, in hynterland, or was it Hyndland. It was probably one of the richest suburbs of Glasgow, but it was a bit overwhelming. I did discover the train station there, but didn't wish to venture down the long wet tunnel to wherever it might lead.
People, including the woman next to me in this train to Stirling (and ending at Inverness) seem to love text messaging other people. I should start writing text poetry and write all my journals that way. Night has arrived, and it is no more than 1630. The moon is brilliant white and we have something very close to a dark blue sky. I stopped at the hostel on returning to the University, still more than usually away from City Center where the train station was. I picked up my luggage, and made my way to the central station, then was directed back to Queen Street, which I had nearly just passed on my way. I took the late 1618 to Stirling and here I am. After I got off the train, I ate the steak pasty that I had gotten on the way between stations. It was quite good, but she didn't give me the one that I had pointed too.
Ossian's Ale, red label, and I think the only hand pumped ale here. I'm in the back cellar area, with a curved tunnel ceiling. It has a rich Victorian carpet, bottles with candles on all the tables, but none lit. The couple that just arrived, sporting strong Scottish accents, younger than me by a little, have just lit their cigarettes, and I have, or had an inclination to ask them to light the candles. They have displayed the scotch boxes (whisky) along the leather bench that rings each wall. If the ceiling was a bit higher, you might be able to fit my 63 Airstream Land Yacht in this area, but the floor is raised in this cellar, probably for multiple reasons.
I just walked up to the castle in the dark, took some snaps, climbed up the city walls that protect the castle, and found a wee cemetery on top of it. Oh, it is great to have an ale.
"Tia Lusso YOU JUST KNOW" is printed on the plastic coasters that all the glasses are set on. I mention them because I've never seen a pub restaurant or bar that used plastic coasters. It's brilliant.
I'm just wandering, I'm probably way off the beaten path. I met one other guy in my very small hostel room. I said goodbye and for him to have a nice night when I left, but I've not had a conversation with anyone yet. I know how to live, I just don't do it.
Dreams can be as misleading as eyes, as wants, as her hands, though cold, guide more than intended.
I can almost embrace a dream, though I know it heralds some new considerations with a woman, always
get a hotel, where love can blossom. Hostels are for the desperate, lonely, if you have buddies, avoid hostels.
Women with short hair are very easy to enjoy. Why don't I date short haired women, or any who don't spend hours on their hair.
Drinking is almost a profession in small towns where cars don't exist. why do people travel together?
Why do they have conversations. Why am I so marketable, yet so alone? They don't know.
If I had a bloody guitar and knew some bleeding tunes.... Then people would stream to me and become my friends, right? Perhaps not, but it seems that it would be nice to have a vehicle with which to meet people. So they didn't let me get a return ticket. Perhaps the distance is just too short. This place seems quite local. Kinda like I'm unwanted, which wouldn't be surprising if thy new I was from America. I'd dislike me too.
I've figured out tomorrows travels. I don't know where to get a bicycle, and that seems intrinsic to my travels, if I indeed plan to hit, or top all those places I wish to see. Some people who smoke appear to me to no end. I want to now, when perjury is completely my ally. This place reminds me of a Crusader bar in Tiberius that we loved during my month in Israel. It was very similar to this one, except the UK music there was louder.
Hostels cost less than I pay to park my Airstream in wide open areas like Madison, WI, but I can't work here. I suppose I should leave here. It is not like I will talk to anyone here, although the couple in the corner intrigues me. They talk about all my interests and more.
After I finished my 3rd pint of Ossian, still at the Settle Inn, I intended to make my way home. But there was another nice looking pub next door. I got a different pint of ale, a Bombardier, and climbed upstairs to sit and drink it. I had two pints, it was so good. On my way out of the bar, I noticed they had a karaoke machine and a guy there running it. No one was singing, so I took over. Of course I had 2 more pints before I actually left the place. I sang "Purple Rain" first, among a wide repertoire, including "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" (ouch) and "Put Your Sweet Lips a Little Closer". I wasn't sure about the words on a few of my other selections, but I mostly didn't need the video screen.
One guy asked me where I was from, then if I favour the whites (or master) race. I said I didn't understand, first, and when I did figure out what he was saying, I said "NO!"
I was staying at the Stirling YHA that night, which was in an old church, and received the highest hostel ratings, but was so tight in the rooms it was hard to move around. The man at the front always called me "David" and was very friendly. When I booked in, he was going to hand me sheets, but they were quite dirty still. I had some along, so I just took none.
When I got back from my castle walkabout and Karaoke singing, everyone was in their bunks asleep. I had already laid out my sheets, so I climbed into bed on my sheets and in my clothes. It think I changed in bed, and kept my boots up there with me.
I was guest director for Rachel's high school rehearsal of "Bye Bye Birdie" last night. It was a rush to be in charge, or somewhat in charge, of the group for a few hours. I was thoroughly drained at the end, although I did very little and they were on cruise control most of the way through. Rachel had a City Council meeting, and I got to step in for a very exciting few hours, since their first performance will be on Friday morning. Break a leg, students.