Where am I?
|Oh, yes, that's right.|
|I'm up very early, so good-bye's are brief.|
|I'm thinking of hitchhiking back to Bristol, but the road passes through so many cities! And that's very discouraging…|
…so much so that I give it up after a few miles of walking and pop back into Edinburgh.
|Technically, I'm studying abroad, but my experience is, I think, very different from the other students I pass.|
I walk around sight-seeing, briefly, and then miss the bus to London while playing piano for breakfast.
|So, I head back to Glasgow and learn that every other bus back to London and the South is full.|
|So, I tour the Scottish Modern Art Museum and am moved by the odd splashes of colour, regimented lines, and their special exhibit of GLBTA art - all allegedly inspired by the Scotish country-side (and weather?).|
|I walk through George Square, where the need to memorialise the heroes of the past has forestalled any future memorials for anything.|
I'm feeling out of place in the city, when, in the distance, I see something very exciting!
(The Reader is encouraged to imagine my friend Bripi thumping a timpani with every picture.)
Windmills! I love windmills, and they bring a smile to my face. In England, though, the Green movement's divided. Vast, open, windy, un-beautiful places to stuff with windmills simply don't exist here. And, as you can see, they show up from a good distance. Great Britain, though, seems very serious about clean energy, so I suspect there will be more.
|And then, I discover the most amazing thing: the Scottish National Piping Museum! Piping, as in bagpiping! Their collection covers pipes, pipers, pipe-makers, notators - the whole gambit. And the sound of pipers practicing (it's also a piping school) accompanies me through the exhibits.|
|The city seems to be having an identity problem…|
|Having run out of time for further visits, I stroll about,|
|before heading to the train.|
|Which takes me South.|
|There's a change-over in Carlisle, during which I run out and buy myself supper. Reboarding, I'm seated across from a young American. We talk briefly and he asks me if Alaska is "like everywhere else". "No.", I tell him and start to explain why, but he simply laughs, drowning my explanation with his cynicism. We don't talk, after that.|
In Birmingham, I have to run, but manage to tag the bull and make it back to the train.
In Bristol, it's a good night to walk home.
~389 miles, ~2 days