Whelp, I've been awake for thirty hours, eaten deep fried haggis from a hole in the wall chip shop (where I couldn't understand a bloody word they said) and drank real, honest to god Guinness. Not brewed in Creston Guinness, but real nice stuff.

I don't know if it was better, or just tasted better because I'm in Scotland, but it sure tasted good.

I met up with Amber without incident, despite forgetting the name of the cafe I was supposed to meet her in. Fortunately, I'd seen enough Facebook photos that I just walked around the handful of coffee shops until I found someone who looked like the right person.

She bought me a tea, because I had no cash at the time, then we went to the bank machine and I bought her a water. See how this works? Good times. She then took me to a drug store to get drugs so my nose would stop running. So far, little luck, though I do have a tummy ache now (though that could be because of the 'awake for thirty hours' or the 'haggis from a hole in the wall').
The train station in Glasgow is INSANE. Massive, indoor market sort of place. Fully tiled with white tiles, and ringed with stone and wood shops. The roof overhead is all glass, and help up with a complicated, steam-punky metal frame. I suspect they added the roof much later than the rest of it.

My ears still haven't seemed to have popped properly, but the pressure isn't so bad anymore.

This hotel seemed to be under renovations. I really wanted to break in and have a run around, but I've had that feeling pretty much since I stepped off the plane.

We stepped out briefly into Glasgow proper, because Amber told me I needed to see some of the streets. Just like out of a Dickens tale. It was very strange to see elaborate stone buildings, more elborate than the Bay or the CIBC bank building in Calgary, houseing things like pawn brokers and McDonalds. We also found this sweet guy, which Amber introduced with the line: "Are you my mommy?" which, if you're a Dr. Who fan, you should recognize immediately. I had to take a picture of him.

It may have been raining at the time. That didn't stop us from taking a quick detour becauase

"You gotta see this. It's just around the corner."

"What is it?" I ask, naively.

"It's a church," she says as we turn the corner.

HOLY CRAP IT'S A CHURCH.

13th Century, I'm told. There's some wicked gargoyles on it. I didn't get a lot of pictures because it was raining and I was worried about my camera.

Paisley is all run down, but it's awesome. There's mansions all over the place, divided into flats, and more churches you can shake a stick at. (Really. I tried.)

There was also this guy, a couple blocks away:



Crazy, isn't it? I want to go in to some of these places.

Anyway. My internal clock is saying it's four in the afternoon, when it's actually midnight. My internal clock is also gently reminding me I haven't slept in thirty hours or so, with a ball peen hammer to the brain.

So good night and be well.