Springtime in Scotland

The calendar may say end of April, but some days a glance outside shows anything but spring sunshine - snow showers just this past week! This shot of Glen Coe was taken Tuesday by our friends Martha and John, who headed up to the Highlands after staying with us over the weekend.

St. Mungo's Cathedral

You may have thought St. Mungo was a product of JK Rowling’s imagination, but it turns out that he is the founder and patron saint of Glasgow and his bones are entombed in the city’s 12th century cathedral. St. Mungo also appears on the city’s coat of arms, which depicts his miracles (remembered in a little ditty):

          Here is the bird that never flew, Here is the tree that never grew,

          Here is the bell that never rang, Here is the fish that never swam.

Of those feats, the most impressive concerns the fish: An ancient Strathclyde queen was suspected of infidelity by the king. He demanded that she produce her ring, which he claimed she had given to her lover. In fact, the king had thrown the ring into the River Clyde. The queen appealed to Mungo, who ordered a servant to catch a fish in the river. When the fish was sliced open the ring appeared—thus saving the queen from execution (a much better trick than bringing a robin back to life or engaging in spontaneous combustion).

Tea Cakes For Two

If Irn-Bru is the quintessential Scottish soft drink, then Tunnock’s Tea Cake is its parallel for Scottish sugary snacks. A bulbous marshmallow biscuit covered in chocolate, the Tea Cake has been made in Glasgow for over 60 years. Favored by kids of every age, from RAF pilots to football players, the cookie symbolizes a local affection for all things Scottish. There’s even life after consumption - the foil wrappers can playfully be smoothed out and used as both street art and high art. The 2014 Commonwealth Games even featured 30 larger-than-life dancing tea cakes in its opening ceremony. What city has a better relationship with its iconic cookie? 

The Necropolis, R.I.P.

Glasgow’s city of the dead sits high on a craig, peeking over the medieval cathedral. Wealthy merchants founded the Necropolis in the early 1830s as a burial ground befitting their status. Ever mindful of commerce, they stated in the charter that “it will afford a much wanted accommodation to the higher classes…[and] would at the same time convert an unproductive property into a general and lucrative source of profit.” Some 50,000 souls rest here, many underneath elaborate sculptures. The headstones tell sad stories of elderly parents whose children died young and military officers who fell in obscure wars. Watching over all is a stern statue of John Knox. As in Victorian times, the graveyard is a park meant for strolling on a fine spring day when thoughts of mortality are pushed far away.  

Gone Shopping

Restocking our small fridge is an almost daily chore. Produce and packaged goods seem to have very brief shelf lives here and besides, without a car to lug groceries home, we tend to buy only what we can comfortably carry a half-mile from the store to our flat. Although there’s a wee Tesco market on the ground floor of our building, we only use that as our “wine cellar” and a place to get fresh croissants in the morning. The main shopping is saved for Waitrose, which is kind of like the Whole Foods of Britain. The store and its shoppers are regarded by some as elitist and labels on the milk saying “produced by farmers who share our values” don’t help. But, we like the quality of the food and we’re suckers for the come-on of getting a free latte and/or a daily Guardian or Times, if we buy just £5’ worth of groceries. (With newspapers running 1.60 and lattes another £2, you’re practically getting your food for nothing!) One nice thing about Waitrose is their community spiritedness. You get a green token at checkout to deposit in the bin of one of three local charities that change every couple of weeks. The store tallies up the tokens and makes donations accordingly. Nice to know about all the good causes and also that we’re contributing at least in a small way.  A big difference from PDX is the preponderance of self-check out tills (which can be confusing) and the digital handsets that let you tally up your purchases as you go along, with only an occasional spot-check before paying.

A Pint and a Prayer

Oran Mor, formerly Kelvinside Parish Church (1862)

What do you do with a surplus church in a city whose population has dropped by 40% since World War II? In Glasgow, the answer is to turn it into a place to worship whisky (and other spirits). Òran Mór, just a few blocks from us, subtly signals its new identity with a giant blue neon halo encircling its tall spire. Inside it’s teeming with revelers quaffing Guinness and/or eating pub grub, celebrating weddings or wakes, or attending live theatre and concerts. At lunchtime they offer “A Play, A Pie, and A Pint,” where for about $20 you can see an original play (changing weekly) while sipping beer or wine and eating a meat pie with the ubiquitous brown sauce. On the other side of the West End is Cottiers, a similar bar/restaurant/theatre and event venue. Young mums gravitate here in the early afternoon, their prams filling the old sanctuary. At these and other repurposed churches around the city, sláinte mhaith (the traditional Scottish Gaelic toast meaning good health) echoes as a fervent prayer.

Cottiers and Warren Street Theatre

River Clyde Falls

New Lanark sits snugly against a magnificent stretch of the River Clyde where the rushing waterfalls provided hydropower for the textile looms. It’s a lovely walk on a sunny (or even showery) day with spring wildflowers lining the 5k trail and the chance to see the UK’s prime peregrine falcon nesting site. No wonder Wordsworth, Turner, and Sir Walter Scott all drew inspiration here.