Current Location: Glasgow, Scotland

Like a fungus, it grows on you. Glasgow, that is.

On today, the approximate anniversary of the day that I proposed to Jennifer (it might actually be the 20th, not that 19th), I decided that it was high time to pack up and head out of Glasgow for Edinburgh. So I put my stuff together, decided that I wasn’t going to carry my big heavy backpack around while I wandered the streets looking for the train station, and headed for the bank to get some cash for the train ride from the ATM.

The first unpleasant surprise happened when I got to the auto-teller for the Royal Bank of Scotland. I put my card in, asked for cash, and got the following message: "Request refused by your bank."

Uh oh.

Next bank: Clydesdale Bank. Put in my ATM card, request cash, and got the same message.

Whoops.

Third try: another branch of the Royal Bank of Scotland. No luck there either.

"You," I told myself, "might be in some serious trouble here."

Well, not that serious. I still had my American Express card and I had about €250.00 in travellers cheques in my pack back in the B&B, so I knew that even if my bank had canceled my account or something, I could cash those cheques and get to the airport and reschedule my flight back home.

So I took the £5.00 that I had on me and went to the internet café to check my account balance and to check my e-mail. My account balance is still good (in fact, it showed about $200.00 more than I had expected), so I read my e-mail and surfed for a few minutes. Then I decided to head back to the B&B and grab those traveler’s cheques, just in case. On the way, I stopped by a bookstore and bought a new travel guide to replace the useless one that I’d brought with me (this new one had been recommended to me by my stepfather while the old one had been recommended to me by my book on budget international travel), using my ATM/check card with no problems. Then I stopped by another shop and purchased a small gift for my parents with the same card, again with no problems (although the clerk had to check with her manager to see if a U.S. passport constitutes valid identification when someone is using a credit card — it does, by the way).

Thinking that my problem with my card had been fixed somehow, I went back to the Royal Bank of Scotland ATM and tried again.

"We’re sorry, but your request has been denied by your financial institution. Any inconvenience caused is sincerely regretted."

Now I was just irritated, although I appreciated that the ATM was at least polite in rejecting my card.

I went back to the B&B and talked to the receptionist (this receptionist has been the only pleasant part of the B&B; she’s friendly and has no problem repeating over and over and over directions to various places to a geographically-impaired American like myself, and has helped me get oriented to the city). "Do you have any knowledge of the deeper workings of the Royal Bank of Scotland?" I asked her. "Do you know why my ATM card might not be working? I’ve been trying to get a cash advance."

She replied, "I’m sorry, but the Royal Bank of Scotland is a bit too eldrich and arcane for me," (see why I like her?), "but you might try the Abbey National Bank, they’re open on Saturdays."

I thanked her, went to my room to get the traveler’s cheques, and then went back out to the streets.

Abbey National Bank only talks Visa, which does me no good, but the teller I spoke to suggested Clydesdale Bank, which is open today and which talks MasterCard. "It’s a bit of a walk, though," she said. "Hope you’ve got good shoes."

So I thanked her, and started hiking. I went all the way down Sauciehall Street and down to Buchanan Street, hitting every single bank that had an open branch. The Royal Bank of Scotland talks MasterCard but doesn’t give out cash on Saturdays (for some reason, this struck me as very British and I told that to the teller who agreed modestly, but with detectable pride); Halifax Bank doesn’t talk MasterCard but is willing to open accounts to any traveling American who happens to be carrying £10,000 in cash (euros will do as well); and the Co-op Credit Union insists that you either be a member or submit to severe beatings (well, no, but they’re certainly not friendly to traveling Americans who aren’t members). Finally, though, about two miles from the B&B I found a branch of Clydesdale Bank that (a) was open, (b) spoke MasterCard, and (c) was willing to give out cash. For a moment I was nervous that my card would not go through, but there was no problem, and I walked out with enough cash to last me for several days while I fought with my own bank to get my card working again.

By now, of course, it’s far too late to check out of the B&B without incurring an extra night’s charge, so I decided to wander around the city a bit and see what I could see.

A reggae singer with a thick Scottish brogue does Bob Marley covers on St. Vincent Street.

A folk singer with a single guitar sings old Scottish tunes on Argylle Street.

Two musicians sing for a crowd on the corner of Buchanan and St. Vincent.

In a square on Buchanan a block or so before you hit Sauciehall, a street juggler was juggling with three sharp knives while stepping cautiously over two volunteers who were lying on the ground beneath him.

Quick history of Glasgow: it was founded in the early part of the 19th century and existed as a small community until the potato famine hit Ireland in the late 1800’s. Then the Irish emigrated from Ireland and went the United States and Scotland (among other places), and Glasgow was one of the major Irish communities in Scotland. So the city wasn’t really built up until the Victorian era, and most of the architecture reflects that. And it’s a wealthy city, though most of the older wealth comes from the old tobacco lords who used to make tons of money importing Tobacco into Scotland from the United States. So there are large buildings of Victorian design all over the place, along with some older buildings and much newer ones as well.

Perhaps none of the street performers I saw were particularly Scottish, I guess; after all, I could probably have seen any of those things on any thoroughfare on any busy Saturday afternoon in San Francisco. But the Victorian architecture is definitively non-SF, and the people are on the whole friendlier than most of the people I’ve met in SF or Sacramento. So maybe now I’m finally seeing the Scottish side of Glasgow.

I still intend to leave for Edinburgh early tomorrow morning, but I’m not as uncomfortable here as I was yesterday. I probably still won’t go to the pubs on my own (I hate drinking by myself anyway) and I’m still not interested in nightclubs, but there is a "Ghosts and Ghouls Walking Tour of Glasgow" tonight that I’ll probably go on that hits the traditionally haunted spots in the city.

So I guess that this city grows on you. I’m still going to Edinburgh, looking for stuff a bit more traditionally Scottish before heading up to Inverness and Ross-Shire to track down my stepfather’s clan seat, but the sense of urgency has passed now.

But on this, the approximate anniversary of the day that I proposed to Jennifer, I still can’t think of how much I miss her; and while I’m in the middle of what my sister tells me is the most exciting adventure of my life, I still find myself counting the days until I can go home and see Jennifer once more.