West End

I have fallen in love with a neighborhood here in Glasgow. It is called the West End.

West End is the love child of Lincoln Park and Wicker Park after you subtract all the yuppies and hipsters. What's left after: a huge public park and a gorgeous college campus, both surrounded by quirky restaurants, vintage shops, free museums and friendly folk - all in a quiet residential area.

It's posh but not pretentious. Trendy but not unwelcoming. Quirky without trying too hard.

It's also home to Big Licks, an ice cream shop that serves the most fucking delicious ice cream I've ever had in my life. Big Licks is the pièce de résistance that single-handedly elevates the West End out of "Oh, this neighborhood is neat!" status and into "I must go to there every weekend" territory. 

The boy and I have made many a trip already, the most recent of which was for my birthday this past weekend. We strolled around the park, walked through the university campus, dined at the Ubiquitous Chip, watched Grand Budapest Hotel on comfy couches in an indie theatre, and topped off the celebrations with scoops of honeycomb and strawberry ice cream from Big Licks.

Prancing about the University of Glasgow

I was looking forward to eating here for weeks!

Venison haggis

My rice and mushroom cake. Delicious but not very photogenic.

The boy's fish dish. Much better of a presentation.

We enjoyed some oatmeal apple ice cream for ice cream...mmm.

Side note: I may or may not be drooling on my keyboard right now after looking at all those food pictures.

Two weekends before the last one (you can tell how behind I'm getting with these weekend blog posts, gah) we had made another trip out to the West End. This time we strolled along the river through the botanical gardens and eventually into the Kelvingrove art gallery.

Goofing around in the park

I call this the "awkward hotdog"

Insert-flower-name-related-joke-here

I call this "mad cow disease"

We stumbled into a rather arbitrary drum performance by a group that was very diverse in age, ethnic composition, etc. The boy told me that they were a group of recovering alcoholics.
I believed him and was horrified as I gawked at the younger members of the group (who looked 10-12). This went on for a full five minutes before he told me he had been joking...

The Kelvingrove, at last!

Big smiles and weary feet (not pictured)

The architecture inside was just as beautiful as the outside

An interesting choice in lobby decoration

Of course, we capped that visit with some ice cream too. Thinking back, I wish I had taken some pictures at Big Licks. But I was too preoccupied with the task at hand of stuffing my face.

I'll conclude this post by answering the obvious: if the West End is so great, why haven't we moved there?

The easy reason is that it would double the commute that we currently take to work (which is 15 minutes). We're also relatively content with our current corporate apartment.

The less-obvious reason is that I think we both quite enjoy having the West End as a real local treat. It's nice to have it as a destination, something to savor and explore - ideally on peaceful, undisrupted Saturdays and Sundays. I think living there would spoil that magic a bit ;-) 

Loch Lomond

Last weekend, the boy and I persuaded seven fellow ThoughtWorkers and significant-others-of-ThoughtWorkers - all from Brazil - to drive up and spend a day touring Loch Lomond, the largest lake in all of Scotland. (And second-most famous, after Loch Ness)

Our initial plan was quite ambitious; we wanted to embark on the 5-hour hike up Ben Lomond, a Munro (any Scottish mountain higher than 3,000 ft) located on the eastern shore of the Loch. But as the weekend approached, and a series of realizations like a.) Ben Lomond was probably still covered in snow in February, b.) there was a high chance it was going to precipitate on Saturday, c.) the boy and I were woefully underprepared for winter hiking conditions, and d.) some of the Brazilians had never even seen snow, much less hiked in it, made us scale back to significantly milder plans. 

We got off to an early start at the car rental area. Cars in Scotland are tiny, and ours was no exception. Cars in Scotland are also mostly manual, including ours. And to seal the deal - cars in Scotland drive on the left side of the road. There was a lot of nervous laughter and chanting of "Left! Left! Left" during the boy's first few minutes of driving, but he got the swing of it pretty quickly and hey, we all survived to tell the tale. 

Here are some pictures from our walk along the lake:

The guide at the visitor center, when asked if there were castles nearby, directed us to this 'stately mansion'

Challenge: climb that tree. 

Challenge failed. 

Challenge accepted and accomplished!

He lochs to move it move it

Big grins under a cloudy sky

Playgrounds in Scotland are very different from those in the US. We watched this adorable little girl jump in the trampoline.

The group, representing the Americas!

I loved getting out of the busy city and spending time in the great outdoors with new friends. Even though by the time we got to Loch Lomond the blue skies had turned into a grey blanket of clouds (#lifeinscotland), it was still a lovely afternoon. I'd love to return on a summer's day when I imagine the lake loch would be bustling with activities on the water.

I also really enjoyed the drive. This was my first time getting a glimpse into the beautiful Scottish countryside - lush green fields, open blue sky, winding roads, dogs off the leash, and locals with accents so thick all I could do was nod, smile, and hope I wasn't agreeing to something terrible.

This trip left me itching to return and explore more of the countryside/highlands. Ben Lomond, I'll be coming back for you in a few months' time!

Edinbuddah!

Apparently it's not "Edinburrow" or "Edinburg" or even "Edinbro" - it's "Edinbuddah!" It's also where the boy and I happened to spend our first full weekend in Scotland.

Things got off to a bumpy start. We'd booked our train tickets online a few days prior. On Saturday morning we strolled to the train station closest to us to pick them up - about ten minutes before we were due to depart Glasgow. Plenty of time, yes?

No. Because the man who processed our tickets kindly informed us that our train was supposed to leave from a different station, one about half a mile away. D'oh!

So we made a break for it, backpacks and baseball hats and all. Two idiots sprinting down high street at 9 in the morning. I was very aware and deeply ashamed of how stupid (and how distinctively American) we must have looked. But we made our train in time. So I regret nothing.

An hour later we pulled into Waverley station and made our way to the meet up spot of the Sandeman's walking tour. Our colleagues had recommended this tour group to us and we had found the idea very intriguing: unlike almost all the other tour offerings, this two and a half-hour walking tour had no upfront cost whatsoever. Instead, the self-employed guides were only paid in optional tips at the end of the tour based on whatever value the tourists felt they had received. Thus the guides had a large economic incentive to perform well.

I think Adam Smith would have approved of the Sandeman economic model.

Our tour guide's name was James and perform he did. He was a seasoned Edinburgher (Edinburghian? Edinbourgeois?), a captivating storyteller,  and an all-around nice guy. Over the course of the tour we heard a lot about Edinburgh's history (in a nutshell: lots of squabbling with the Brits) and quirks (in a nutshell: everyone loves Robert Burns and haggis).

John Knox, founder of the Presbytarian denomination in Edinburgh, is buried under spot 23 in a cathedral parking spot

Many narrow alleyways off the Royal Mile led to buildings or squares that otherwise were impossible to spot.

The market center, where dishonest merchants had their ears nailed to wooden doors back in the good ole days.

We also passed by the castle but decided to skip the pricey entrance fee and lengthy tour. Another weekend, perhaps.

Is it possible to look more touristy?

The highlight of the tour for me was when James pointed out the cafe where J.K. Rowling spent many a day writing about the adventures of a special boy named Harry...

Holy grounds

Of course, I had to stop in for a pot of tea and see what it was like. Didn't walk away particularly inspired to write, though.

Our tour also led us to Greyfriar's Kirkyard just a few minutes away. Bonus points if you can spot the Harry Potter-esque last name that has been immortalized by a professor at Hogwarts!

The tour wrapped up right as Mother Nature decided it was time to rain, as she is so wont to do in Scotland. We said goodbye to our group, gave James a big ole tip, and ducked into a pub for haggis and a pint. This was my first time eating haggis. It tasted like the Scottish version of a hotdog and was much yummier than its name and reputation suggest.

Bellies full, legs rested and minds relaxed, we wandered into the gorgeous (and free!) National Museum of Scotland.

Dolly the sheep! Science is so cool.

Very reminiscent of the Natural History Museum in DC

Lewis chessmen from the Medieval ages

@dododialogue

Photo op on the roof of the museum

Dinner was a casual affair of chicken wings at a restaurant appropriately named 'Wings.' It was one of those tiny, discreet places located off an already tiny, discreet alleyway from the Royal Mile.

Afterwards we scoped out BrewDog, a hip pub that serves craft beer from the brewery of the same name.

We grabbed our pints and played Guess Who for two hours, haha. I'd forgotten how much fun Guess Who could be...and how slick that motherfucker Herman is. I am telling you, you can never go wrong with Herman. With his nondescript features and forgettable name, he will lead you on a blazing trail to eternal riches and glory.

That night we stayed at a quirky airbnb close to the city center. Our bedroom had high ceilings and a loft-style bed. I don't know what I loved more: the ridiculously comfortable bed or getting to make friends with Billie, the fluffiest cat ever.

I'm so fucking fluffy

We awoke with rumbling tummies the next morning. We scoped out a nearby greasy spoon and treated ourselves to full Scottish breakfasts.

Black pudding, bacon, baked beans, sausage, and a hearty roll.

Feeling considerably jollier and a twinge more oily, we went for a hike up Arthur's Seat, which promised fantastic views of the city. The hike up was quite pleasant, other than a little bit of mud. But once we got to the top, the winds were incredible. I almost lost my footing a few times and climbing up to the peak was very tricky.

We spent the last of our hours in Edinburgh drinking tea and exploring beautiful St. Giles' Cathedral.

Edinburgh was an enchanting place to visit. I'd highly recommend it to history buffs and anyone who appreciates gorgeous architecture. Pip pip cheerio!