And God said to Noah "Let it rain" And Noah said "Hell, No"

The rain returned about 3 PM as we returned to the hotel. The hard rain started about 4 PM.
The island of England is defined by its rivers. Scotland is also defined by its Lochs (lakes). Water is everywhere.
As the weather comes off the North Atlantic, it is always rain. Flooding is a common occurrence. The roads are narrow with two lanes with a few feet of shoulder on each side. Sometimes none. The roads are curves. Often, there are drop offs either to a Loch or a steep hill. On a dry day, driving must be fun.
In the evening we had decided to go for the earlier bus. As we wake, we now know we need to be on that bus. It is ugly outside.
I pay the bill around 7 AM and call a taxi.
The bus station is not crowded. I checked. we are assured seats. The bus is outside. The engine is running. Our confidence grows.
As I explained earlier, the train service from Oban to the rest of Scotland is under repair. Normally, travelers take a train directly from Oban to Glasgow. The bus service is the backup plan. The buses are tourist buses under contract to ScotRail system.
The bus leaves on time. Our train leaves @ 11 AM. We have plenty of time - little over 2 hours. Yesterday's journey was about an hour and fifteen minutes.
It is poring outside. No let up. We make good time. Then, the first of detours to the local stations. No passengers. I am less confident.
Traffic grows. Trucks pass us going the other way. Our mirrors come within inches of each other. The drivers nerves are unbelievable. Logging trucks are the scariest .
Time passes too quickly. We are not on time. We are going to be late if traffic gets heavier.
We turn right out of the last local station stop. We come to a stop. A dead stop. Five minutes, we do not move. Cars are turning around. Traffic moves to fill those spaces. Twenty minutes. We have gone 800 yards.
The driver is in contact with his dispatcher. There is a major accident ahead with injuries.
Hold the train? Please. I try to find out the next train. I am glad that we have taken the later flight from Glasgow.
The driver is exceptional. He keeps us informed. I find that the next train to Glasgow does not allow enough time. Trains are incurring delays because of the rain and flooding.
ScotRail has arranged for a bus at the station to drive to the Glasgow airport. Now, can we get there and when. At first, hopes rise. We find that we are among people who need to get somewhere - predominately, the Glasgow Airport.
Traffic does not move. We are now forty minutes waiting to pass the accident. We have been moving, but slowly.
This is the only road around Loch Lomond and from there to Glasgow.
Finally, we pass the accident. It is on a curve with little shoulder on one side and a hill on he other. The cars are demolished. It is surprising that anyone survived. They are sports car. Best guess - bad road, wet road and bad driver.
The bus driver says that we are lucky there were no deaths. The road would have been closed for investigation.
Despite passing the accident, we move slowly. Commercial traffic has picked up. Everyone seemed to have been surprised by the hard rain. Water is flowing off the hills onto the road.
We arrive at the station around 12:20 PM. There is a bus.The bus to Glasgow Airport and then to Glasgow Train Station has not arrived yet. The occupants of this other bus are travelers who also missed the train.
You can tell people are trying to be gentle and patient. The crowd psychic is "what if there is not enough room". "Who gets to go".
Within ten minutes, the salvation arrives. We load up the bus. Everyone gets to go.
As we pull out of the station parking lot, my hope is that the road will widen and traffic flow will improve.
We turn left onto the same road we just exited. Traffic moves slowly. Minutes. I am starting to think of options, backup plans, for our flight. The British Airways tickets are basically non refundable. I remind myself our objective  is Cambridge. What is an extra $600 dollar?
Within minutes, my pray is to get anywhere safely.
This is the best bus driver ever- hands down. I would trust my life on his driving. Hell, I did.
I took the window seat. I look out the window and literally cannot see the shoulder. I only see a steep drop of 15-20 feet into Loch Lemond.
It continues to rain. Traffic moves slowly because of the volume, weather and the trucks. If we came within inches before, we are within an inch of the mirrors of the logging trucks on the other side of the road. There is no choice. There is no shoulder on their side.
Betty wanted to see Loch Lemond. We have seen Loch Lemond as few have seen.
We have began to give up hope of making the plane. We accept our fate - vacation is adventure. This is an adventure. We are not enjoying, but there is a fatalist relaxation. We smile. We talk to other passengers.
The two women in front of us are from Iowa. They are opinionated. They are sisters. They are in competition with each other. That passes time.
It is about 1:30 PM and we are still moving slowly.
The passengers begin to cheer as we approach another truck. This could be a sport.
The rain has lightened. It is more of a mist. Suddenly, the road is now a four lane highway with a median. The bus picks up speed. We are now cruising.
The problem with maps is that it is hard to imagine actual distances. When possible, I have tried to locate our bus on the map. We have traveled to the south end of the Loch and we now turn directly towards Glasgow.
The driver passes up other cars. He is speeding.
I see a sign pointing to the Glasgow airport. We are thirty miles from the airport. It is 2:30 PM.
The rain has stopped. Skies are lightened. We cross a bridge. The driver is confident. We are very confident.
As I leave the bus, I smile to bus driver. All I can say is "terrific". He knows he is great.
Glasgow Airport is larger than Edinburgh's. We roll our luggage into the terminal and find the British Airways counter. We have about 50 minutes.
The security line is long but efficient. European security is full body scan every time. It is separation of computers, your quart bag and personal items. For the second time, I have a second screening which takes time.
We are safe - only a quarter mile to our gate and the gauntlet of Duty Free Zone. Most importantly, we have 35 minutes to the gate.
We have not eaten since the biscuits in Oban. At the gate, we grab sandwiches and beverages. Of course, we are the last section to board. The ground crew is polite.
We have assigned seats but not assigned overhead space. We walk outside onto the tarmac. We climb the stairs. We find our seats and there is overhead space.
We have found the commercial aircraft seats to be much better that in America. Take off is on time. We are back on schedule. It is an hour flight to Heathrow. We have done it. This was an adventure. I think I learnt to slow down and be optimistic. Betty has been great and calm.
The weather has turned dry and blue skies. I look out the window at the English countryside. We must be low since I can see the houses and villages so clearly.
Our experience with the air travel has been exceptional. Yes, they are full flights. But, everything I have read has not proven true during our three flights. The attendants have been professional and courtesies. The seats are better than what you experience in economy with US standard airlines. The horror stories about last minute gouging at the gate have not occurred. They are on time - well reasonably.
In an hour we have landed and moving to the far, far gate.  Well, to be honest, all gates at Heathrow are a far, far, far.
Down a corridor. Down a another corridor - you get the idea. We are the end of the line and the line has disappeared. We are follow signs. It is so empty. Finally, an automatic door opens and we are in terminal 3. We have been here before so we know where the Underground station is.
We are now about to become experienced Underground and London train travelers.
In the past, we have taken cabs. This time we have decided to take the Piccadilly Line to Kings Crossing or is it St. Pancras Station? The map says St. Pancras. The train station says Kings Crossing.
We are using Oyster cards. When Bill and the kids left they gave us their cards to use. We are outside zone 4 so I am not sure of the fare.
I do stop and ask the attendant - there is always an attendant. he swaps the two cards we offer and we are past the turnstile. Down an elevator to the platform, all the terminals are stops and Kings Crossing  is an all stop. First train is within minutes. We have our luggage and backpacks.
We sit and ride. There are 19 stops or about 50 minute ride. The train to Cambridge is every half hour so we are fine.
It is rush hour - about 5 PM and the train is surprisingly full for a train moving into London. The train does empty slightly. Then, we pass a point and we are now moving with the commuters homeward bound.
We exit and escalator up to a tunnel. We follow the signs. Are we at Kings Crossing or St Pancras?
The answer is that it is the same station - to the right is St Pancras to the left is Kings Crossing. Of course, I do not figure this out until we purchase our tickets and start looking for the gate. I stand in front of the wrong gates entrance for five minutes. Until I realize that Kings Crossing is to the left.
We have seven minutes to cross the station floor, pass our tickets through the turnstile and run down the train looking for room.
They are all full. We edge in and try to make room for our luggage. We huddle in a corner away from the door. We have another hour and some minutes trip ahead of us. It is about 6:50 PM. This is a local. It is dark outside.
I have been standing for a long time. I have tried to remember when we ate. I know we had something at the bus station, then I think something at the airport. usually, I remember meals but I honestly have no idea.
The train empties as we move away from London and the immediate urban area. Finally, we have seats. The train ride feels long. Our day is almost over. We are well past twelve hours of travel - buses, plane, the Underground, trains.
Finally, Cambridge - not without a question.  There is Cambridge and there is North Cambridge. Which station?
We pick Cambridge. We cross over to the station. At 8:30 PM, the station is relaxing at the end of the day. The cab station is clearly marked. We roll over to the cab stand. We have reservations at the Gonville Hotel. After our last two hotels, we are hesitant. How large is Cambridge? We have been to Oxford. Is Cambridge the same or different - smaller or larger?
The cab driver is pleasant. And, apparently takes the shortest route.
There is an aged Rolls Royce outside. The interior is grand. The two gentlemen at the front desk are professional. We look like hell. They attitude is if we are grand travelers.
Betty had made reservations a few weeks ago. At the last moment, she added a day. Tonight"s reservation is in a Spa room. What a great way to end the journey. It is after 9 PM.
Betty relaxes orders room service. I need a drink to celebrate a great adventure.
The bar is not full but for Tuesday night, there are guests. I have a whiskey and enjoy.
The bed is luxurious. It is TV. A great shower. A free in-room bar and snacks.
Tomorrow morning we move to a more standard room, but tonight we celebrate.

""You (Scots) come of a race of men the very wind of whose name has swept to the ultimate seas."

We wake to clouds. You can see the ferry docked.
I am out early for a walk. I follow the bay walk again. Daylight and walking with my head up, I start to get a better feel for Oban.
Oban is a port town with access to the Scottish Highlands. Oban is commercial fishing. Oban is tourists. Oban is local businesses.
I am looking for coffee and biscuit. I know where the Costa shop is, but I want something more local. I am also looking for the Green Shack.
John and Angela toured Scotland last year on their honeymoon. They loved Scotland. On their visit to Oban, they found the "Green Shack".
I am not certain if the discovery was fortuitous or a referral. I do know that I had seen a Rick Stevens program on touring the Highlands of Scotland and what to do in Oban. "The Green Shack" was the highlight.
I pass the Oban Distillery.  I have checked and the tours are full. We leave tomorrow morning so the Distillery will be next time. (Now that is hopeful thinking - how many times do you plan in a lifetime to visit Oban).
I note how many Fish & Chips places there are. I count six. Many of the business I walk past are no open yet. It is 6:30 AM.
I walk past last night's Chips Shop. I follow the curve and the streets become more residential. There are a few small hotels. Moving to my right, I begin to walk to the bus station.
There is a small souvenir shop. It is closed. I walk around and find the rail station and parking lot. No trains. A few cars.
I pass around the front and start to follow the docks. There is restaurant and offices.
About 150 yards, I see the "Green Shack". It is small. Well, it is called a "Shack". There is no indoor seating. There are two picnic tables with benches.
I turn back to the bus station. I am hungry and nothing is open. The station has a small kiosk that sells beverages and biscuits. I seat with the passengers waiting for today's bus and enjoy.
One of the reason I wanted to stop by the bus station is to check the schedule for tomorrow. I also want to assure that this is where we need to be tomorrow. Our tickets are "all day" tickets. There is a bus at 8:00AM and another around 9:15. We can take either if there is room.
The 9:30 is more convenient - less rushing etc. But, the 8 AM gives us flexibility if something goes wrong.
The sky is a light gray. Temperature is low 50's. The forecast is for rain.
I work back to the hotel with a biscuit for Betty. I refuse to even buy coffee at the hotel. I have checked the "hotel" websites and the room price are substantially lower. Apparently, the weather has deterred attendance at the auction.
I bring to the front desk's attention. Nothing. Best Western website is useless.
We call a cab. Betty's foot is definitely improving. But, walking a half mile to the Oban dock would be stretching a good thing. Our goal is to stroll Oban and. then, the Green Shack.
Over our journeys, we have fallen into a comfortable rhythm. My very early morning walk to orient us for the day ahead. Where are the stations. How far of a walk. What sites are close by. Betty always find residences in great locations. Paris was fantastic. Rome was the best. London, Dublin, Venice - all have been great.
The cab drops us off at the bus stop. The Green Shack is about the size of a hot dog stand in Chicago.
It is a walk up and order. The menu is on a chalk board. There are the regulars - mussels, lobster, soup.
The kitchen is behind the counter. Two women take the orders. They are polite and comfortable with tourists. They do not waste time. They expect you not to waste their time.
After consultation with Betty, I order lobster for Betty. I order shell fish. Betty holds two bench seats at one of the picnic tables. There is a canopy over the tables. The view is cross the walkway at one story buildings along the bay, The ferry is less than a hundred years away. In short, it is practical.
You are here for the seafood. It is great. It is fresh.
I am still hungry. I doubt if I will return to Oban. I order the mussels.
This is my great moment. A woman takes my order over the high counter. I reach into my pocket and start to count out my payment. I do not hand over a 10 or 20 pound note. I am going for exact. I am only slightly nervous. The woman knows I am not local. She smiles. She is impressed.
I am impressed with myself. From now on, I am confident with my coinage - 1 and 2 pound coins and pence.
The mussels are fantastic and plentiful. I keep eating and there is more. I am very content.
Betty loved her lobster. It is not New England lobster. It is smaller.
It is early. We share the tables but there is room.
We clean our area. We need to walk around Oban. There are not a lot of shops. I confirm tomorrow's bus schedule - I am still not certain as to whether we will try for the earlier bus.
The weather is mutable.
We take a cab back to the hotel. We have brought food back so dinner in the room.
We decide for the earlier bus.
Tomorrow - the greatest adventure.

"The only way of catching a train I have ever discovered is to miss the train before"

It is early. We have an 8:40 Train to Oban. Actually, a train and bus ride ahead of us.
As explained before, I am a nervous traveler.  I am better with experience. For example. I am now very comfortable with the Italian train system.  The Underground is great. Paris is comfortable.
This is the first time to Oban. We will take the train and a bus.
Looking back, it appears that the bus ride is due to the Highland Rail System under repair. Oban does have a train station. But, then we would have missed a great adventure.
The day begins with the checkout. Best Western Hotels have an overall excellent reputation in Europe. What we discovered over five days in Glasgow and Oban is that the reputation is justified on the Continent and, horribly, untrue in the UK.
The young lady refuses to accept our twenty pound sterling note. She is adamant. She cannot accept the twenty pound Bank of Scotland note (which a story in itself - basically, a twenty pound note is a twenty pound note). She explains that the notes are being replaced and she can only accept new notes.
I try to point out that the notes are from the bank's ATM down the street yesterday. I explain that the change over is only for older five and ten notes.
After ten minutes and the cab arriving, she agrees to wavier the room charge in lieu of not accepting the twenty pound sterling.
I ask the cab driver as he helps us with luggage. Of course, he shrugs and says bluntly "of course, she does know what she is talking about".
We were without heat for our entire stay. We were without water for a day. We reserved a lower floor  I expected an accommodation in the bill. I did get an ill-informed young woman who was more than willing to argue a $18.00 room service bill while the cab awaits.
The cab ride is quick. We pay and tip. We are early. The coffee kiosk is open. The gate for the train is announced. Tickets. We find seats. The train is a local and, therefore, semi-full. I am surprised. It is early Sunday morning.
We stow our luggage. The train pulls out on time.
The ride is pleasant as the clouds turn gray and thicken. There are two very young men across the aisle. I am guessing mid teens. They are on a hiking journey. The older boy seems to be experienced. He is very confident.
They are staying at a hostel and will hike the area during the day.
We had hope to see the great vistas of Scotland. The ragged bluffs. The green glens. The view from the coach is hindered by the foliage on both sides and the lack of sun light.
The stops come with less regularity. The foliage thickens. It begins to rain.
Our stop is the last station. By this time, the passengers have thinned. We are greeted as we exit the train by a very nice guide who walks to the parking lot. She is self assured. I am now almost assured.
We load our luggage and find seats. The rain is more than a drizzle.
A very nice tourist bus contracted by ScotRail due to the shutdown of the Highland Rail.
I have no idea how long the bus ride will be. It is a narrow road used by cars, buses and trucks including logging. We pass each other with little room for error. Often, the bus and the other vehicle have to use the road shoulder. It is the only road. We pass through villages and small stops along the way. Traffic is light. We climb. Now, the rain covers the windows. I am reminded of the song - McArthur Park - something about "melting".
It is getting hot in the bus. We have no idea if we are near or far from Oban.
A sign of the approach of a larger town is the increase in the number of homes. we also are on the descent.
With the rain and fogged windows, Oban appears not as quaint as we envisioned. Shops and homes.
Cars parked on the street. Where is our hotel? Where we will be dropped? And, the rain.
The bus drops us off at the Oban Rail Station. We collect luggage. We are on time and early for check in.
We are in the heart of Oban. Restaurants and hotels curve around the bay. There is a ferry docked. Betty has hopes that we can take a day trip to one of the islands off shore.
We head to the Costa Coffee Shop. It is lunch time. We need to make a phone call to the hotel to see about directions and early check in.
The shop is full. Lunch time and shelter from the weather. Coffee and sandwiches type place. We try to avoid listening to immediate conversations.
I walk outside and find the taxi station and return.
WiFi is jammed and we have trouble getting on. As an hour passes and fewer user, it improves slightly. We are always careful using public WIFI which limits our access.
Finally, it is close to permitted check-in. The rain is lighter, but the wind has picked up. Collecting our carry on luggage and backpacks, we cross over to the taxi station.
From our driver, we learn that our hotel is not known as a Best Western. It is the Muthu Queens Oban Hotel.
The Muthu Hospitality Group is avarice. The Group has aggressively brought up small local hotels and resorts in the UK and Europe. The focus is profitability. I would avoid any hotel owned by this Group.
In Oban, Muthu is ubiquitous. Hotels line the curve of the bay. In pleasant weather, the view of the bay, islands offshore and the cruise ships must be great. There is a sidewalk along the sea wall that borders the road. Now, we notice the wind and the temperature dropping.
The taxi pulls into a narrow parking area with room for 8 cars. There is no room to park on the street.
The desk person checks us in. Again, Betty has reserved a room on the first floor. Again, the room is on the top floor. Again, there is no elevator.
We are again told tough luck. "We are full due to an auction on Monday".
We find out later that Best Western brand has little or no control over their UK members. The hotels belong only to use the Best Western US reservation system.
The room is pleasant. We check. There is water and heat. But, there is no television.
It is 2:30 PM. The weather is unpleasant. The bar does not open til 5.
I call down. The desk person comes up and confirms the TV does not work. She advises that she will have maintenance look at it as soon as they return from one of the other Muthu hotels. They are there trying to restore heat to that hotel. Notice a trend!
We are about a half mile from Oban. We are tired and getting back into a cab is not attractive.
We wait. After an hour, I go down to check. Nothing. Rude. Indifferent.
About 4:30, maintenance arrives. It is a loose connection of the coaxial cable to the wall. He tightens. We have TV.
We are thinking about dinner. There is a dining room. I am upset and I do want to give this management anymore money than I have to.
I suggest Fish and Chips. I have looked at Trip Advisor and Yelp and there are a number of shops. I start out with the wind and soaking rain. I have a North Face 3/4 quarter length jacket which is waterproof.
I am walking against the wind and at the beginning, reasonably comfortable. What I forget is my shoes. My shoes quickly become soggy. I am alone on the sidewalk. Justly so.
I have forgotten it is Sunday. What will be open. I cannot use my phone - no signal and with the rain and darkness it would be impossible to read. I do see the Oban Distillery. I turn away from the beach road towards the Main Street. I find a Fish & Chips shop open.
The counter guy looks at me as I enter. he gives me the "are you crazy" look. When I ask for extra chips, he nods and smiles with indulgence.
I start back holding the large warm back close to my body. Obviously, I have not allowed for time, distance and a cold wind that now hits my face.
I make good time. Fortunately, the food is neither soggy nor cold. Well, it is not warm - but, it is fried fish and chips and they are firm.
It is a lot of food.
Tomorrow - sightseeing in Oban and the "Green Shack".

"Glasgow is less polite than Edinburgh ..... they keep in real"

The weather holds.
Still no heat. We understand that with the older buildings they often share boilers. We are told that the boiler is less than two years old. Apparently, the boiler is current, the pipes may have been new at the coronation of Victoria.
We discover that ownership of the Scottish hospitality industry is foreign and seems to be dominated by individuals from India. Decision making, therefore, lacks immediacy.
It is Saturday.
I wake early. I am now somewhat oriented. I turn left, past King's Theater to Sauchiehall Street. It is seven blocks of renovation. I walk to the train station. My goal is to become familiar with the train station. We leave early tomorrow morning for Glasgow. I want to print our tickets.
I have checked my phone and I have a message that I am about to end my International Phone & Data Usage Plan. From the early planning of the trip, our International Plan has been in turmoil.
I do reflect that from our first trip in 2014, smart phone usage has improved greatly. In 2014, Verizon did not offer any service. You were talking about "unlocking", replacement of simm card or purchasing an international phone.
I knew that I was closing in on my 100 MB monthly limit. But, the text message is confusing and the alternative offered does not make sense.
I return to Starbucks on Buchanan Street. Order coffee. Log on to their WiFi and call Verizon. I found that calling directly to International Customer Service is the most effective. Now, it is 9AM in Glasgow and late evening somewhere in USA. Hard to believe, I spend the next hour and ten minutes on the phone via WiFi. I do not loss the connection. It is Verizon's International 800 number. But, still remarkable.
Most importantly, we resolve the problem. Verizon renews my monthly International Plan and gives me a credit to offset. Very generous and very helpful.
It is only 10AM and there is walking to do. I walk to the end of Buchanan St. I turn left and walk up the street. I am sightseeing. Others are beginning a Saturday morning. I do get a feel for the architecture of Glasgow - at least, this area. It is Victorian and reflects the glory period of Glasgow.
I turn back towards the hotel. I do have a goal - I need shaving cream. When you want a drug store ...
Argyle Street is filling with shoppers. Centre Glasgow is very much alive and well.
I find a drugstore - a Superdrug.  We are scheduled to fly to London Tuesday so I am looking for travel size.
My opinion of Glasgow continues to improve. It is a very vibrant city. It is friendly, but not outgoing.
It has been a long walk already. I cross back over St Vincent towards Bath. I zigzag looking for nothing special just enjoying. I find great little parks.  I am also looking for a place to eat lunch later with Betty.
Almost back to the hotel, I pass the King's Theater where Sheik the Musical is playing. It is a Saturday Morning performance. Kids and parents everywhere.
It is lunch time. Still no heat. And, the weekend crew at front desk is no longer apologetic. We notice that there are a lot of Russians in the hospitality business.
Betty and I walk briefly looking on both sides of Sauchiehall Street for a place to have lunch. We decide on J. D.Wetherspoon. This is important since it is here that I invent the greatest condiment. It is a mixture of HP Sauce and Tartar Sauce. Great with chips. Hell goes with anything.
The remainder of the afternoon is a leisurely walk to Buchanan Street. It is Saturday and we shop. We want to buy - but, we live in the Southwest with summer temperatures over 100 so wool sweaters, hats and scarfs will sit in the closet.
We do a little shopping for dinner. We leave early Sunday morning. We are excited to get back on the road. The more adventurous part of our journey is upcoming.
Tomorrow is Oban.

"The Great thing about Glasgow is that if there is a Nuclear attack, it'll look exactly the same afterwards"

The above quote is not accurate. For centuries, Glasgow was the economic center of Scotland and, for that matter, the United Kingdom.
We were told Glasgow was the "murder capital of Europe". Gangs roamed the streets. Criminals and gangs rule.
Glasgow has suffered. With the decline of manufacturing in the UK in 70's and 80's, Glasgow did see a substantial decline in population. There was urban flight to the suburbs. The city of Glasgow reached a peak in 1938 with a population of 1,127,825.
Today, Glasgow is a city of 615,070  with 1,209,143 people living in the Greater Glasgow urban area and 1,800,000 in metropolitan area. That is approximately 33% of Scotland's population.
Glasgow is a port city with access to world markets by the Firth of Clyde.
The city's East End remains a problem area with high unemployment.
The City Center of Glasgow is very vibrant and cosmopolitan urban area, There is construction every where. The train station. the Streets. The buildings.  The Glasgow School of Art which has burnt twice - once in 2014 and gain in 2018.
The city is very pedestrian friendly. The City Center is an easy walk. Except of the hills. Oh, I forgot to mention the hills. Scotland is a land of hills - steep hills.
I start the day before dawn. It is dark as I walk to try to find a coffee shop. My first impression of the neighborhood. Yes, we are on a border. Two blocks behind the hotel is a major commuter artery with heavy traffic. There are high rise residential and office complex. The streets are empty. The street that appears to have shops and restaurants are fenced and torn up. We are about six blocks from the heavily damaged Glasgow School of Art. Major portion of the structure is being demolished which results in further street blockage and an extended (inaccurate) perception of decay.
I find a small family owned coffee shop. It is more of a sandwich shop for local office employees. The coffee is not great. The ambience is functional. There is a lack of morning biscuits.
I eat and drink quietly. No WIFI.
I do not dally. I leave disheartened.
It is still dark. I begin my long walk. Betty will not awake for awhile.
Why are we in Glasgow? Lots of good reasons actually. We are on our way to Oban. Our son and daughter in law honeymooned in Scotland and praised their journey and, especially, Oban.
We do not drive. We relay on trains and occasionally, buses. By traveling to Oban, we hope will give us a chance to see the outstanding scenery of Scotland's Highlands. By crossing from the east coast of Scotland and to the west coast, we will gain a fuller flavor of Scotland.
It is also a time to rest. we have been traveling for 18 days and four cities, three flights and lots of sightseeing. We have another 12 days with a long journey to Southwold, England.
As the sky lightens, I start up St Vincent Street. When I say "up" I mean up. I am concerned that although Betty's foot has improved greatly, but this hill is steep. I am walking back to the Central Station which is my "known point". Also When the cab took us to the hotel, I was impressed. I am going to find that a drinkable cup of coffee.
In the UK, there are several serviceable coffee chains for a morning roll and coffee. Starbucks, Nero and Costa are ubiquous. In London, there are lots of independents.
I pass offices and lots of "To Let" signs. There are small sandwich shops but nothing is open. We like to walk when possible. I am concerned that we may have to use cabs - the steep hills and distant to Glasgow sites.
The city is coming to life. More cars. I am saved. I find a Starbucks. I start to understand Glasgow better. It is a working city. It is a little like Dublin. Yes, they welcome tourists but the city's geography does not cater to tourists.
Glasgow has a great sense of humor. The equestrian statute of Wellington on Exchange Square is daily topped with a traffic cone. This commentary on the quinntessential hero of Britain is a statement that all is not well with the UK. The cone is removed every morning and replaced by "vandals" every night.
When I return to the hotel, Betty is up and getting ready. She asks where should we go. My answer is that I am not certain. The focus is to relax. The water is running in the room but still no heat. They have given us a small portable heater.
We leave the hotel and turn left. We walk to the Theater and turn right and walk up Bath Street.
Earlier I saw a restaurant called "The Butterfly and The Pig". The menu looked interesting and local. As opposed to the kids, I tend not to check YELP reviews. I trust my luck and feel.
It is somewhat early so we get a table without a reservation. I did burritos in Edinburgh. Betty and I had several very good meals so far in Scotland. But, nothing which would be considered "Scottish crusine.
There is haggis as an appetizer on the menu. I am not certain. But, I know I have to try. Fortunately, haggis has evolved. It no longer is stuffed sheep stomach. The menu is not specific as to ingredients.
I am guessing that "haggis" means by definition sheep liver, sheep heart and other undefined parts of sheep.
It was not bad. I would order again - but, only in Scotland.
I also order steak pie. Betty has often ordered pies. This is my first. It is very tasty - a large beef pot pie. Lunch is leisurely.
We walk down Bath Street to Buchanan Street. Buchanan Street is a closed pedestrian street, The open mall is about seven to eight blocks long with stores on both sides. The temperature is mild so the stroll and window shopping is pleasant.
And, there it is. Another family tradition to be continued. There is the Hard Rock Cafe of Glasgow. We go souvenir shopping. Not great.
We decide that we are tired and a drink sounds great. It is a narrow building with the restaurant up a staircase. Remember Glasgow is our rest stop. Slow down. Restore.
We find a booth and order cocktails. It is not crowd - too early. the bar area is small. We have a chance to talk with the server. He shares my admiration of Queen and Freddy Mercury. The Queen movie is a few months away,
We begin our walk back. We discover that you can walk around the steep hill, It is still a climb but not as tiring.
Still no heat, but the television works and the room is pleasant. It is a quick trip to Tesco Express. Dinner in the room.
Tomorrow - more walking.

"The Glasglow accent was so strong you could have built a bridge with it and known it would outlast the civilization that spawned it"

The weather holds.
Krispy Kreme from Tesco Express. Coffee at Starbucks. Life is good. Good Morning Edinburgh.
Looking back, I will remember the bookstores and coffee shops of Edinburgh. And, that I started to achieve a degree of comfortably with the British monetary system, I no longer hand a twenty Pound note to the clerk and wait for the change or hold my hand out to let the clerk pick out.  I can actually pay with the change in my pocket.
It is about a forty-five minute train ride to Glasgow with local stops on the way.
We check out and request a cab from the front desk. I learn a valuable lesson. When staying at a hotel, have the desk order the cab. It is easy, quick and honest.
The driver takes us quickly to Waverly Station. I explain to Betty my lost ticket problem from yesterday. She is gracious and does not laugh.
I exhibit my new found expertise with the ticket kiosk and we both now have tickets.
The Economist is selling subscription at Waverly Station. We are early with about an hour wait. Betty engages one the young people in conversation and we leave Edinburgh with a subscription.
I mention to explain our approach to souvenirs We tend to buy books, artistic personal cards, notebooks, calendar diaries and small pieces of clothing. There are exceptions to the rule. Subscription to the Economist fits right in.
Our train is cancelled. I think that it had more to do with "consolidation". A train to Glasgow leaves Waverly about every thirty minutes.
We move to another platform. I go through my anxiety routine. Betty is reassuring and calming.
The train is more of a commuter than a rail. This are first trip on Scots Rail. We know our stop (we are less than confident).
I have had a number of discussions on "traveling" and, particularly, in our age group. All "traveling" is to be encouraged. Betty and I are not risk takers. But, we are adventurous. We have an advantage. We have time. We usually spend five days or more in a city. We can miss a train. We can loosely schedule. The only requirement is that the next hotel reservation.
This is a local. The trip reminds me that we are tourists. There is a real world outside the train window. We pass through suburbs. Commuter train stations. We see the parking lots and business parks. After about thirty minutes, we are underground.
We know the train station. Well, we hope it is the right station. We hope that the hotel is a reasonable distance. The stop is more of a subway stop than a train station. Can this be it. Are there two stops? Is there a upper stop and a lower stop. We have picked the wrong train?
Glasgow Central Station does have two levels. Apparently, trains from Edinburgh occupy that lower level.
The station is in major exterior and interior renovation. Following construction signs, we exit onto a side street.
Glasgow hills are not gentle. It is a lesson quickly learnt. The cab stand is only 100 yards away. It is a steep climb while pulling luggage and pack bags. Betty's foot is healing but walking is tough.
There is a line of cabs waiting for fares. We are a fare. But, the cab drivers apparently are not allowed to move.
Finally, a cab pulls out and the friendly cab driver helps load the luggage. He explains that this is the waiting area, The actual cab area is in front of the station. It is right turn not left and a flat fifty yards walk. It is around the corner. We did not see.
We are downtown. We drive by a lot of interesting stores and restaurants.
The hotel is on the edge of central Glasgow. Our experience in Europe conforms to Best Western reputation which is very good. Scotland is not Europe.
The hotel is a small boutique hotel. At check-in the manager is accommodating and accepts several of our out of date 5 and 10 pound sterling. He does fail to mention that we have no heat - it is Friday. The boiler is (a few years old) broken and repairmen are there.
We learn that with the older buildings which have been rehabbed many times that they often share boilers and utilities. The water is also turned off, but hopefully will be turned on in a couple of hours.
There is no elevator and, of course, they have put us on the third floor despite Betty's request due to injuried foot.
The room itself is pleasant. Although apparently being a Best Western Club Member is commonly ignored by Scottish Brand Holders. We find out later that Best Western is not well liked by their hotel management.
We are pleasant about the inconvenience since we are given the impression that it is short term. "It will be fixed shortly." Water did return the first night. But, no adjustment in the bill made or even offered.
By the time we have unpacked and settle in, it is late afternoon.
I go for a walk. My goal is to familiarize myself and to find snacks - I need a diet coke badly. Chips would be a good thing also.
At first, I am not overly impressed by the area. We are on the border of the commercial/business area. Glasgow is in a Renaissance. A few blocks down, a street for seven blocks is completing torn up. The large building across the street appears vacant. It may have been a school - it still might be. It is a great looking building but there is a look of vacancy about it. There is a theater with Shrek the Musical three blocks down.
Turning left out the hotel door, I walk straight for five short blocks. I find an outdoor laundromat in a gas station. I gratefully find a Tesco Express. I buy my coke and potato crisps (a bag of potato chips in US).
It is a pleasant evening room service, television and snacks.
Tomorrow, the hills of Glasgow.

"This is a city of shifting light, of changing skies, of sudden vistas. A city so beautiful it breaks the heart again and again."

The weather holds.
I am consistently reminded of the pride of the Scots in their heritage. The Scots are proud of their centuries of strife and troubling history with England. Scotland is tied to England by the Stewart Kings. If not for that historical joining, the Scots would be less tolerate of the British.
Gaelic is spoken on the streets. You hear it when, as a passerby, the conversation is private. The museums stress the uniqueness of the Scottish history.  At the same time. Scotland is a global nation. It relies on migration for its work force.
I have resumed my travel routine. I now start my day around 6:30AM. I walk to Tesco Express for a sweet roll and then another three blocks to Starbucks. I seat on the upper level and use WIFI to update my world.
An objective on this trip is to become comfortable with exchange rates and handling monies. I did not start well. But, I am now improving. The hard issue is the coins. The Euro and the Pound Sterling use coins for one and two Euro and Pound.
While your pockets fill with coins, you are never sure that you have given the correct amount or are getting the correct change. The frequent response is to hand over a twenty pound/Euro note and wait for change. Or, to open our hand filled with loose coins and let the clerk pick out the amount needed.
All these are acceptable. But, you are too soon identified as an inexperienced tourist. I want to move up from inexperienced to unskilled tourist.
Of course, I bring back a breakfast roll.
This is our last full day in Edinburgh. Our focus is Edinburgh Castle.
Betty's foot is still bothering her. She has been remarkable. The day will require a lot of climbing and walking. Her pace will be slower. She very kindly volunteers to split up for the day.
Edinburgh Castle dominates the cityscape. On an extinct volcano, the castle rests on the high ground of the city. Edinburgh is surrounded by hills with the Water of Leith (Leith River) flowing through the city to the Firth of Forth and then to the North Sea. Edinburgh is a port.
There have been 26 sieges over its 1,100 year history. It is the "if you build it, they will siege it".
Edinburgh Castle was involved in various conflicts including the Wars of Scottish Independence and the Jacobite rising of 1745. Notice the reoccurring theme - religion and the English - and often they are the same.
The Castle has earned the title "the most besieged place in Great Britain and one of the most attacked in the world". In 1916, Edinburgh was bombed (23 bombs) by two German Zeppelin with the the Castle's "One O'clock Gun" was fired in defense. It did not hit anything.
You enter the Castle through the main gate by crossing the parade grounds. The grounds are the stage for the Royal Edinburgh Military Ground. A major attraction in August, the Tattoo has developed into a complexity of performances by invited variety of performers and marching bands from around the world. I have viewed on YouTube and it is impressive. With a focus on formation marching, the highlight is the massed pipes and drums of the Scottish regiments.
You climb. There are various levels to the Castle. As with Stirling Castle, the Castle buildings are a mixture of museums, restored rooms that exhibit various periods and occupation and a small military barrack.
I tour the several regimental museums, the Scottish National War Memorial and the National War Museum of Scotland. It is easy to note that Scotland has given a great deal in the creation of the British Empire. It is a constant reminder how devastating World War I was to Britain and Scotland.
From the parapets, the view is impressive. During the day, I will climb a number of hills and high points with outstanding vistas. the operative word in Edinburgh is climbing.
The restaurants within the Castle are full. So, I head to the Deacon Brodie Pub which is a short walk from Castle. Deacon Brodie is a well known , colorful figure in Edinburgh lore. The Deacon was a respected cabinetmaker (locksmith) with access to keys of the homes of the Edinburgh wealthy. For almost 20 years, he paid his gambling debts with thefts. An estimated 40,000 people watched his hanging.
The pub is full. I find a place at the bar, order a pint of a local brew and plan my afternoon and lunch.
I cross the Royal Mile. St Giles Church is the principal place of worship of the Church of Scotland (Presbyterianism) in Edinburgh and focal point of worship for almost 900 years. The present church dates from the late 14th century and is an active church. The Protestant leader and theologian, John Knox, is buried in the kirkyard of the church (now a paved parking lot in front of church - the site is noted by a plaque in the tarmac).
The stained glass windows are impressive. The vast majority of the glass was installed during the middle of the 20th century.
Lunch. I decide that when in Scotland you should try local cuisine. There is a burrito shop on North Bridge Street about a five block walk.
Come on, down deep in your heart, you would want to try a burrito. Actually, Mexican food is popular.  There are a number of Mexican restaurants.
This is more of a "catch all" place. You order at the bar and pay. The burrito is a an interesting interpretation. It is beef, rice and cheese rolled in a flour like tortilla and then grilled like a panino. It is not a burrito. It does energize me.
We have focused on Old Town. I now adventure out. I turn right to The Royal Mile. We had covered this side on Sunday. I have not destination in mind. I am a wanderer.
After a few blocks the crowd thins. I pass the very modern Scottish Parliament Building at the end of the Mile. I turn at the Palace of Holyroodhouse and the Queen's Gallery.
I start to realize the height of the old buildings in Old Town and New Town Edinburgh. They are built from local stone. Because of the hills and elevated streets you are not aware that the buildings are often four stories high. I thought that to build to that height the base width had to be substantially wider to support the weight of the higher floors with the higher floors walls thinner. Or, some type of buttressing of the walls.
Obviously, I am wrong. These stone buildings appear straight and self supporting (with no obvious superstructure). They are easy to admire and comfortable to look at. More than the castles, my memories will be of this walk.
I turn and retrace my steps for a few blocks. I turn left and walk a few blocks to Carlton Street. There is a small park to my left. Why not. There is a hill to climb and I need to walk off lunch.
Eureka. This is the joy of no schedule. No tour. This is Carlton Hill.
It is blustery at the top of the top of the hill. It is the 360 degree vista of Edinburgh. The Hill is a hodgepodge of monuments that only adds to the private feeling to the hill.
There are more visitors at the top of the hill than expected. There are tourists and school groups. There is a monument to Nelson (mandatory in UK). An unfinished national monument formed by Roman columns. Robert Burns, The Political Martyrs Monument, the Dugald Stewart Monument and the City Observatory.
Now, I have to start working my way back to the hotel. I turn right towards North Bridge Street.
My goal is the Waverly Train Station. We are leaving by train to Glasgow tomorrow. I want to stop at the station's kiosk to print our tickets. I ordered on line and as usual, I am apprehensive.
I checked the Internet and there appears to be only one major station in Edinburgh. I want to make sure that we arrive in plenty of time tomorrow.  So, I will print the tickets today.
What I find out later is that UK tickets purchased on line are "all day" - miss the train, take the next train. Ticket will work. Scots Rail is great.
This is the first lag of our journey through Scotland - Edinburgh to Glasgow to Oban and back to Glasgow for a flight to London. The Glasgow to Oban is by train and bus. The Internet information lacks transparency and reassurance.
Waverly Station is a five minutes from the hotel by cab. It is what you expect - large and busy. Well land out and flows. The only note is that it is a long escalator ride from the street to the gates.
The process is easy at the kiosk. Input the code - I created a problem with keeping track of the various codes on my phone - and the little colored pieces of stiff paper are printed and dispensed.
I am relieved when the first three drop. I pick up my tickets and walk away. The only problem is that there are four little pieces of paper. I left a ticket in the machine. I took the receipt, summary and one ticket. I left a ticket. I do not realize until when I got back to the hotel.
I walk up Princes Street. Princes Street is a commercial avenue. Shopping and business offices are on the far side of the street. It is now the beginning of Rush hour - Edinburgh is going home.
On my side of the street, there is a small park that runs along the street. I know that I have to turn back towards The Royal Mile. Princes Street is lower (notably lower) than Old Town.
I find a street that runs past the National Art Gallery. I climb stairs - stairs - stairs. As I rise through the buildings on either sides - I re-enter the tourist area and exit through Writers' Guild Close.
Of course, a stop at a coffee shop. A stop at Tesco Express for dinner in the room.
Tomorrow - the adventure begins.