Four Hours in Glasgow - Part 5

It only took a block or so of walking before my shoulders began to hurt but I bucked up and forced myself the ten blocks or so to the Cathedral. I watched so many strange combinations of those looking very old and those looking very young standing at the street corners. Traffic lights seemed to last longer and everything was telling me that I was simply not tough enough for Glasgow.

Glasgow Cathedral

Then the Cathedral poked over the Horizon. It surprised me because I thought it was going to be the much larger building across the street but once I saw it, it was unmistakable.

The whole structure was blackened like it had been barbequed, and roofed with a soft fuzzy-green copper. Dark stained glass and a sign saying “Cathedral Visitors to the Right.”

There was a peaceful trickle of Germans Japanese and others like me (white, disheveled, large backpack and not talking to preserve the mystery of their origin.) The inside was amazing. The echo of the door handle’s crash, as I entered, bounced around the gothic ceiling. There were two separate post card racks, one of Glasgow and one of the Cathedral and two separate Auntie Jean types at desks beside them. I tried to look at the stained glass but the organ music, strange chromatic baroque-ness, coming from the chapel pulled me in.

At first glance I thought that a church service was going on. The back and front rows of the pews were filled with people who were looking at the ground. Suddenly one got up and snapped a picture, revealing that we were all tourists.
I sat in a pew and peeled the bag from my shoulders. I stared at the ceiling and prayed—for myself, for my family, for The Campout but I forgot to finish.

The music ended and I completed my tour. It was wonderful but not in a particularly describable way. There was repetitiveness: every corner was the chapel of saint someone-or-other, every stained glass window a restoration by some Glasgow Guild. But it was also varied. The Nurses Chapel had flags, some had plaques, some relics. Some windows had abstract patterns. Some had pictures.

The largest window was a giant purple depiction of Adam and Eve. Detailed right down to orange pubic hair. Not ideals but humans--sinners.

Original of the Species

I bought two postcards after waiting behind a guy who didn’t speak English. The old lady at the counter was kind and smiley and patient. I shifted my backpack.