Glasgow
As I was saying . . . the last time I pulled on my traveling clothes was in 2019 B.C. (Before COVID) or, in the new historical dating parlance, B.E.C. (Before Everything Changed). In terms of international travel, a lot has changed, of course. For example, as we found out the hard way in the airport a mere two hours before our return flight, you can’t get back into America without a $75 COVID rapid test administered by a nurse.
And, at the same time, nothing has changed.
Elderly men with sinus issues still repetitively hock phlegm from the back of their throats in that nails-on-chalkboard sort of way that makes you want to use your hate eyes on them. People in planes still cough uncontrollably in the seat right behind you which – as of this month – they get to do sans mask, causing you (me) to double down on your (my) N95 in a fit of virus paranoia while fighting the desperate urge to stand up in the middle of your (my) 7-hour flight and yell “For crying out loud, but on a BLEEP’n mask!!”
Still, Mary and I made it onto the plane, past the hacking guy, through the coughing man, into Iceland for an hour layover, and finally over to Glasgow without any real hitches. In a blur, there we were.
The agenda for our one day in Glasgow was simple:
1. Stay up until 8 pm UK time even if it killed us,
2. Crash for 12 hours, thus preventing jet lag,
3. Reorganize our bags (again), and
4. Catch a taxi to Milngavie and be ready to roll out on the path the next day.
With 1-3 accomplished, we discovered we had four empty hours to fill. Dr. Google advised us to hunt down the art along the Glasgow Mural Trail which weaves through Glasgow’s Merchant City district.
Before we set out, however, Mary sat down for a little intention-setting meditation. It’s a thing she does. This time she called on The Universe to guide us with ease, kindness and happy accidents. That, I thought to myself, is a great theme for our travels! So, expect to hear more about this trinity as we move forward.
We dropped our bags at a post office (shout out to Radical Storage), then stood in front of a coffee shop near where the murals were purported to be while we fumbled with Google Maps in the way of lost tourists. At that moment The Universe kicked into action in the form of longtime Glasgow resident Paul McKelvie, OBE (OBE, as in nearly knighted). Paul clearly recognized the tired, disoriented look on our faces and asked us if we needed directions.
This simple kindness turned into a historical orientation to Glasgow over coffee followed by a 3-hour walking tour of the district. Rather than wrestling with the map to find one or two murals in the hours we had left, Paul led us directly to a whole host of spectacular pieces. The art climbed up 10-story (or taller) buildings. Murals hid Banksy-like down alleyways and around building corners. They slid along the long walls outside the city’s biggest brewery (Tennent’s) like Burma-Shave quotes along a country road.
Then just as Paul bid us adieu, a taxi drove up in front of the post office as if we had called it to spirit us Milngavie. Ease and happy accidents.
On the drive, my mind sat with that gift of a perfect stranger’s time and attention, as well as the reminder to look at others with curiosity and kindness. Perhaps the hocking man had chronic nasal drip to which I could have extended a modicum of compassion; perhaps the coughing man simply had an itchy throat exacerbated by the plane’s canned air. Or, perhaps he was taking the last flight of his life and he simply wanted to be free of all that has weighed the world down in the past two-plus years, including masks. We tell ourselves (mostly negative) stories about others all the time, don’t we? What if we told ourselves mysteries instead, or hopeful shorts?
Mary and I have been thinking about a long walk together for more than a decade now. Today I realize that all the years it did not work out also a happy accidentt — not going then brought us here now, today, so that the not-quite-Sir Paul McKelvie, OBE, could find us lost on a Glasgow street and join, even for a brief time, the journey of our friendship.
As we start our walk tomorrow, I know we are both seeking to deeply connect with nature and each other and also to find renewal and resurrect our faith in the goodness of people. This is something I came close to losing in the disaster of the Trump years and the paranoia of the early pandemic years.
How grateful am I that I saw that goodness today. As loud and clear as one stranger caring for another. Thank you Paul for the perfect preface to the walk ahead.
Comments