Welcome!

Hello Friends! Because of my love of blogs and my 2 foot proximity to Henry, I am delighted to join him in the recounting of the tales and musings of our life this term in Glasgow. After 4 terms of Chicken Tender Quesos at the Hop, awkward conversations in Novack, having every history class in Carson 60 and general frat row misadventures, I’m glad to be in a different city, in a different country and on a different continent. But as much as I wanted to get out of the dregs of Hanover, I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I decided to go on this trip. Outside of kilts, whiskey and Macbeth, I knew nothing about Scotland. And my lack of knowledge decided to smack me in the face the second I got off the plane. I decided to take a cab to my building, which I didn’t have the address to of course. So I gave the cab driver a shriveled up piece of nothing that had the address to the admissions office and we were off. I proceeded to sit through a 20 minute conversation, of which the only words I understood were “Scottish”, “mayonnaise” and “cloudy”, terrified as he weaved through traffic while smoking his cigarette. I guess my inability to understand and respond made him a bit angry, because once we got to the supposed address on the sheet, he tossed my bag out, grabbed the crumpled up pounds I handed to him and hopped back into the cab. When I noticed I was standing in front of an abandoned building, I asked him whether or not this was the right address, and before he lit his next cigarette and sped off, he growled, “sure”. Disheveled and slightly confused, I walked up to the admissions office, hoping to get some directions or a hug, both of which would have been great at that moment. But I turned the knob and the door was locked. I looked at the door, which of course said “Mon-Fri, 9-5”. It was Saturday.

I hope that with this blog we can share with you the things we experience as we try to find our way around this town. Stay tuned.

J.G