Small Feet

The thing about Glasgow is that it has nine -- nine -- free museums . On a Sunday afternoon or a Tuesday morning, people spill in and out of tall doors to examine paintings, stone arrowheads and wall fragments, faded gowns from the nineteenth century, sculpture, books with indecipherable handwriting opened to the middle of their spines, taxidermies from around the globe, and artifacts both from colonized jungles and from Glaswegian houses down the street.   Museums are a beloved pastime of mine, a superb shelter from rain and wind and indeterminate precipitation of all seasons. In my opinion, the people in the museums are as much an object of fascination as the objects numbered and held behind glass. The small families, scattering themselves sometimes across the wide galleries as they seek something of interest; the chattering tour groups on a determined yet careless scavenger hunt that they will likely repeat in a similar location tomorrow; the elderly couples who walk slo...

Literary destinations seem to be something of a theme for me -- all of England made me want to sink into a grassy meadow with the entire canon of my childhood favorites (which still remain my favorites). Bath is no different -- it is home to the Jane Austen Centre, the very homes where she lived in her later years, and the architecture and sites, like the Assembly Rooms , that are brought to life in her works as the settings for the most mundane and also most thrilling events of the English glitterati.  The city is even more ancient than Regency dances and love affairs -- it was a Roman hub due to the famous baths, which were used by soldiers during the height of the Empire as well as by cure-seekers in the seventeenth century and social butterflies as late as the twentieth century. History from all different periods of the Western world abounds here, and you can tour deep underground to see the baths and temple themselves. In some places, it's even possible to see t...

Oxford is sort of the be-all end-all of college towns -- it is literally a town made up of colleges. It was home to a few of my most favorite writers and thinkers: J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. It's a mecca for academics, museum-lovers, and Harry Potter fans. In some ways, visiting Oxford was like coming home.  Stone buildings like churches and castles and the different parts of Hogwarts, are scattered throughout the town. So are museums -- I visited the Pitt Rivers Museum of anthropology, and the Museum of Natural History .  There's also Magdalen College, academic home of Lewis, Tolkien, and many others.  And of course, the Eagle and Child, affectionately known as the 'Bird and Baby' by its frequent customers, the Inklings.  The literary magic and academic development of Oxford oozes out of the very stones. You can hardly help wanting to pour yourself out into a novel or play, history or theorem. Visiting it was a sort of pilgrima...

Vegetarian Scottish breakfast at Craigard Tearoom in Helensburgh Donuts for two at Nic's NYC in Glasgow Home-roasted winter veg Vegan coconut nachos at The 78 in Glasgow Seitan burger at Brewdog in Glasgow Muddy feet in a muddy bog -- a common sight, and how I'm burning off all these calories

A side effect of being alone is, of course, that sometimes you don't want to be by yourself. In such cases, I'm accustomed to calling a friend or simply yelling down the hall to a roommate.   Here, in a city of a million people, it's not quite as simple. Cultivating a friendship anywhere takes time and energy, as well as a willingness to introduce oneself, ask questions, and make awkward small talk about the weather or the ceilidh dance. I drew a deep breath when I realized that I was surrounded by other students who also felt a wild relief when someone struck up a conversation or thrust a smartphone towards them, awaiting a Facebook handle or phone number. In such a climate, I've realized, friendship tends to snowball in a rather beautiful way. Desperate for companionship, stories we can tell our children, and pristine Instagram photos, we find ourselves wandering streets we barely know with a happy band of ten or more, pushing tables and bodies together in our deli...

I've never been one for solitude. It's not that I don't like myself -- on the contrary, spending time alone isn't distasteful to me at all. Rather (and this is in no way a complaint), I have been blessed with abundant family, friends and loved ones whose company often seems more exciting to a lone stroll or foray into a cafe. Coming to Glasgow alone has changed this. The only person I know in this whole city is with me constantly -- I can't avoid spending time alone. In the week I've been here, I have walked miles on cobbled streets and sidewalks that are cracked patchworks of pavements, wandered into charity shops, cafes, pubs, museums, bookshops, grocery stores.... As someone who talks a lot, days spent by myself are vaguely jarring. Words that would generally spill out into the chilly air have no ear to catch them, and so they remain to bounce around as unarticulated thoughts and observations in my mind. My solitude makes every exchange an important par...