Out here on my own :-)

I was invited to a friend's wedding, and was also asked to be the best man. The wedding was in Shimla, so I carried my camera. Click the pic for the general touristy pics :



But I noticed something that I miss when I am in Glasgow. I blended in like nothing. Here, even in a city that's becoming multi-ethnic, multi-lingual and (supposedly) multi-cultural, I get stared at quite a bit. Shimla's quite smaller, and I was all right there -- or at least unnoticeable compared to the priest with whom I went touristing around Shimla town centre. Tallish guy with white hair and white skin. And I was the one with the camera!

I guess with the staring in Glasgow also comes the question, "do I belong here? will I belong here in time?" Last Sunday I returned from London and was waiting on a bus back to the West End. The 62 eventually came along and these teenagers (twentysomethings?) got off the bus, the first yelling something random as he disembarked -- frightening the old lady in front of me, who let out a surprised "ohh!". The guy behind the yeller said something meant to be apologetic like "kids today" with a knowing grin. I rolled my eyes. "Welcome back to the Land of the Nutters", I told myself. Although to be honest, that place isn't really Glasgow so much as the front of Central Station (especially as the evening arrives) -- I usually avoid the place myself.

But I have had a hard time trying to put the stereotype of Scottish people as joyful noisemakers to rest (see old post about previous flat). The barber at the south end of the station had told me Scots take stuff less seriously and I think I took that to heart -- meaning consideration for others as well. Although noticing people keeping doors open for others behind them did give me pause. And it does help to be a part of some groups off Meetup.com since I have met many quiet Scottish people there.

And then, too, I've only been here about 15 months, so I guess I'll have to do my time. No shortcuts to feeling a part of a town... especially when it's in the UK and you don't drink much or follow the footy...

*resigned sigh* Well, London's only 400 miles away.

Be it ever so humble, there was...

I moved westward.

I got tired of walking at least 15 minutes for EVERYTHING (20 to Central Station, 25 in other direction for PC World, 25 minutes to the GFT, 40 minutes to Buchanan Galleries, 30 minutes to St Enoch subway station -- and the West End). And passing under the Kingston Bridge each time. Dodging the cars turning off Stobcross Road (or Argyle Street) down towards the Broomielaw. Walking home with a backache (when I had one). Having tall industrial buildings, empty lots and that damn ALEA sign be my only company usually. Nothing but a SPAR (supermarket) close by. Sure there was ALEA, Nando's, bowling, bingo and others -- across the Clyde. Noisy neighbours upstairs dropping stuff and having people over and laughing away the day (and sometimes the night). And the police (bless'em) coming by every so often. I saw the notice about "lewd acts have been captured on CCTV and we just want to remind all residents that..." and all I could do was roll my eyes.

But still, I do miss it a little. Because it still used to be home, if only just for a year.

Happy one-week movingout-anniversary to me.

On 'Psychic Vampires'

I was going through the list of meet-ups (on Meetup.com) for Glasgow and eventually came upon a Satanists' meetup.

It held my interest because I have been here less than a year in Scotland, where the people are so much more sociable, community-minded, personable -- and talkative, boy are they talkative -- than the English, especially Londoners, and lo and behold, here is a group that stands for none of these things. And it's weirdly thrilling.

Don't get me wrong. I like that I can just talk to the odd stranger more easily than I could in London. I am timid enough that it -- subconsciously -- comes as a major relief that people don't abuse me or ignore me when I reach out. My conversations don't last that long anyway!

But the 'payback' comes when the odd stranger starts talking to me ... and then finally at me, about every last detail and worry and problem in their heads, while I nod and smile and try to 'put myself in their shoes'. Here this happens more often than you would think, and I don't think I'm used to this as yet. When I am the one that doesn't want to engage, it's hard to say 'no'. Perhaps it was this permissive nature that allowed one member of the group to comment that he's "self-less to a fault and [has been] especially susceptible to psychic vampires in the past".

And now I find myself wanting to read Anton LaVey's bio, if not his book .

Whether I want to join the group (of individualists!) … probably not.