The haar is here. It rolled in last night as we were walking back from the train station. When we got to the classroom this morning for seminar, our normally pretty spectacular view had taken on a more definite Scottish quality:
Alex and Paul were nonplussed:
I wanted to throw in a couple of older pictures, not only because (as usual) Paul and Alex are amusing, but because they convey a little of the strange sense of spaces here. You really do get the feeling that you're surrounded by secret passageways:
while at the same time, you're continually surprised by huge vistas that combat the sense of claustrophobia:
We got over to Glasgow yesterday (Wednesday)--a great trip that made us realize how small Edinburgh really is. Glasgow is bigger, more populous, more industrial, and more friendly. I think I'd want to live there if I moved to Scotland, although I'm not sure we got to know it much at all since the trip was so short. One of our directors is a Glaswegian, and she recommended we go up the Lighthouse first. I think the views did give us a sense of the town, somehow. It's much less picturesque than Edinburgh.
Paul is psyched for Glasgow. Or, maybe he just heard that a Wicker Man remake (starring Nicolas Cage) is being released September first.
Here are a couple of portraits from the Kelvingrove Museum that I liked. This lady has haunting eyes. French painter whose name starts with a 'C' (best I can do).
This guy, called 'Old Willie,' was painted by one of the 'Glasgow Boys.' There's either something very Scottish about the painting, or there's something very Scottish about the fact that the Scots like to think there's something Scottish about the painting. Or both.
We went from the museum to a cathedral on the east end of town and checked out its necropolis. I find it difficult to explain our somewhat slap-happy mood in retrospect.
We made it out of the city of the dead and down to a wacky restaurant courtesy of the guidebook. We celebrated with a strong beer called 'Leffe' that, as Paul noted, came in 'man wine glasses.'


And now, it's time for me to fail to resist the cheesy-shot-of-the-sunset-taken-through-the-train-window-
indicating-a-peaceful-end-of-the-journey.
We're nearing the end, here. But there's still some crazy stuff coming up--including a formal reception tonight which promises to be stuffed to the gills with dudes wearing skirts. Paul's got some family coming to visit this weekend, and we're thinking about checking out the Highland Games near Inverness (dudes in skirts throwing trees and hammers around).

Love to all of you. Thanks for the comments and for taking care of each other.