Glasgow Out to Dance

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My train arrived in mist, at a station half an hour from my hotel by foot. (You guys, this is good because of all the beers and no bootcamp). I need to get a waterproof cover for my bag so I can walk in the rain. My workout started at George Square, and took me up through wealthy Victorian era neighborhoods, on to plain brick tenements from the 1970s, and under a freeway. I found my modern looking hotel nested among chic restaurants and bars.

My airbnb had fallen through in Glasgow so I ended up in a hotel in the up-and-coming West End, the recently refurbished hipster community.
The Lorne Hotel is trying its best to keep up with the neighborhood, but, like a 13-year-old trying to manage make up, it's a little over its head. They don't have enough staff to manage the maintenance and the remodeling consists of a slap dash paint job and thrown together appliances. The shower head kept falling down and the soap was in a plastic bag meant for a dispenser. The dispenser holder was there at least, should one appear at some point. I felt safe though, and my room was clean. The view looks over sandstone structures and their peaked slate rooftops.

A new Sunday swing dance event was happening downtown when I arrived so I grabbed an Uber and booked across town to make it, walking in just when the group was doing a line dance called the Shim Sham. I know the Shim Sham so I jumped right in!

This weekly social dance happens in a basement bar that's closed for the afternoon. It wasn't crowded- there were maybe 40 people. I asked a couple of them to dance to get a feel of how they do things in Glasgow and I could tell right away what recent lessons had been taught. For those of you who don't dance, this means a number of students were practicing the same few moves repeatedly. Whew! I wasn't in over my head. That's always a good feeling while traveling.

I scoped out one of the better dancers and made myself ask him to dance (I try to ask someone whose technicality scares me every time I dance. It makes me learn. It also forces me to get over myself.) He had some unfamiliar steps but was kind enough to repeat them for me. He then introduced me to his wife from Seattle and I led her in a dance too.

Dancing only lasted about an hour. Afterward, I went upstairs to order a drink. I like to support a bar that hosts dancing and allows me to charge my phone. Stongbow is a cider. Now you know. Damp passers by were made impressionistic by the fogging plate glass window. They hunched against the light rain, couples leaning into each other for warmth.

I notice more diversity. More Africans and Indians intermingle with the Gingers and Freckled.

Glasgow feels more like a city to me than Edinburgh. There are fewer tourists and fewer ornate buildings. It felt more solid in a way. Working class. Industrial. Interesting graffiti. I have left behind the medieval architecture in Edinburgh. We are all Victorian here, with sprinkles of Art Nouveau. There are more abandoned relics in disrepair. Plants sprout from their rooftops. Lichen and moss crowd their foundations. Artists claim the boarded windows.

A modern main shopping thoroughfare with department stores and boutiques is crowded with teenagers, families, and street musicians. A tiny, tacky, portable carnival is tucked among stately historical buildings, kind of wrecking my brain with the juxtaposition. I'm beginning to find a theme here, actually, an interesting design sense intent on deconstructing any preconception of order. I'll just refer to it as DAPOO from now on. You'll see.

I had to have a drink at Lebowskis, a fabulous chain in the U.K. themed around The Big Lebowski. There are many different versions of the White Russian, each brilliantly named after characters and aspects of the film. I ordered the Big Lebowski, natch.

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