Katabasis and Nostos
Given my Classics obsession, I found the Greek terms katabasis and nostos to be the only words suitable to describe my last two weeks in Glasgow.
Katabasis: Descent into the underworld, also known as Finals Week
I don’t think I left my computer for more than 4 hours at a time (and that was to sleep… when I was able to make time to sleep). My finals schedule was ridiculous and I am glad it is over. I’m officially a Dartmouth alumna. Hurrah!
Unfortunately, my birthday fell in the middle of Finals week, so I wasn’t able to do much outside of an impromptu dorm room dance party at 4 am and a delicious Italian dinner (for which I am very grateful).
Since I was living at a keyboard or inside of a stack of books, Sydney suggested I take a study break on Sunday and go to the Barras. The Barras is a large outdoor market where you can find any and everything you could possibly want. However, it is located in the East End of Glasgow which is not the safest part of the city. By the time Sydney was able to convince me to put down Herodotus’ The Histories, it was already 4 pm, meaning the Barras would only be open for another hour. It was now or never. The market is only open on the weekend and it was my last weekend in Glasgow. We made it by 4:30 to find the streets desolate. For some reason, the market had shut down early. Knowing that The Barras attracts a lot of tourists, I figured it was safe to take a photo before heading back to the West End of Glasgow. I was wrong. As soon as I took a shot, an older man approached me, rapidly and angrily.
Him: Are you a Russian spy?
Me: Uhh, no.
I shoved my camera into my bag and began to walk swiftly in the opposite direction.
Him: Then why are you taking pictures of me?!
I must have looked terrified because the man burst into laughter after I fumbled for a few words.
Him: I’m just joking.
With that, he grabbed my arm firmly. By this point, I was not only uncomfortable, but frightened. But why should I be? All he wanted to do was kiss my hand….which he did, prompting me to jerk away.
Me: (nervous laughter accompanied by a nervous smile) Thank you, sir.
Him: (back to being outraged, beating his chest) Sir?! SIR?! Don’t EVER call me SIR! It’s Wally! My name is Wally!!
And that’s the last I heard from him. We walked away as fast as we could, moving at a speed just short of an all-out sprint. Wally, little did you know that you’ve made my Glasgow experience complete.
Nostos, or Homecoming
My last final was on Monday morning. While I was looking forward to finishing it, the true light at the end of the tunnel was Middle Monday at Rio. This was my first time being a headline poet, which was exciting. The best part of the evening was spending time with talented writers and genuinely good people. The people of Rio made Glasgow feel like a second home. I’m already making plans to return to Glasgow in March for the Aye!Write festival.
I was very reluctant to leave Glasgow….so reluctant that I ended up missing my flight! My mom wasn’t too pleased about this, though I was fortunate enough to get on the next flight out of Glasgow to Amsterdam (then to Minneapolis, then to Denver). However, missing my initial flight meant I had nine additional hours in Glasgow. I watched Waltz with Bashir (highly recommend it!) and then took a nap before returning to the airport at 4 am.
This will be my last blog entry until I return to the UK, unless I think of a few humor anecdotes which were omitted earlier. Thanks for following!
–Brittany
In the gallery: Dance parties, a traditional Scottish breakfast, campus shots, and friends at Rio
Sydney said,
December 29, 2009 at 01:44
Jeez Brittany I wish you would just recognize when someone’s hitting on you. ”Russian spy” can be a term of endearment depending where it is deployed. I would think that you would be sensitive to cultural differences, you know – as a poet.
Nice photos though