Holiday in Scotland

I knew it, and was expecting it, but it still hit quite hard when I heard the first proper conversation in Scottish between a bus driver and a passenger going to Glasgow from Prestwick airport: I could not understand a single word, though the meaning of their verbal exchange was somewhat comprehensible from the context. That was a rough welcome to Scotland for me!

During the one-hour busride to Glasgow I admired the amazingly green Scottish winter scenery: sheep, a sign for ”watch out for elderly people” (they love signs in Scotland!), the little villages and countryside houses.

In Glasgow I visited the gloomy cathedral and a rather presumptuous Necropolis, and was quite surprised to find brochures for whisky tours in a cathedral (only in Scotland!). I took some photos at George Square with Japanese tourists and watched the statues of great Scotsmen being covered by snow. I went for some shopping in the design district, and ended up only buying a tacky Scottish language kitchen towel. I relaxed in a vegan bar/restaurant/club 13th floor - highly recommended for more alternative-minded rock lovers, with very cute albeit uncomprehensible bartenders. In the evening in moved on to Dundee by train, spent there two days and had a quick tour in Edinburgh before flying from there to Brussels South again.

During my first day in Glasgow I already learned that when they ask you ”are you OK?”, people are not worried about you although I might look completely lost – it just means ”Can I help you?”. I tried to get rid of a huge smile on my face whenever somebody said anything in Scottish accent, but found it extremely hard since hearing that accent just made me childishly happy. During the next three days I also heard the more Eastern accents of Dundee and Edinburgh, but it's the Glaswegian one that amazed and definitely challenged me most – and I thought that Nigerian English is difficult to understand...

In the 13th floor – after being astonished by the cheap price of the best whiskies in the bar, £2,20 for a shot - I had an encounter with the British class system, if my social analysis is correct. A local ”older gentleman” chatting me up and trying to guess my nationality for several minutes, going through all Eastern European countries just sighed at some point (and I'm unable to litterate his accent here): ”Aaaw, you have such a strong Anglo-American accent – you must be veeeery educated, I can't even talk with you”. I have never before been refused to being talked to because of my accent – and there's not much I can do about it, really...

My next post will most likely wrap-up my time in Belgium, which is running out with an increasing speed: only one week to go. Having non-functioning internet at home now for 3 weeks, and also incredibly slow experience with the internet connection in a cafe today, it seems that the next post will also be written in Finland, the land of modern technology, where I'll be staying for one month before moving on to Senegal – and finally better respecting the blog's name again!

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