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Virgin.net - City Guides -
Glasgow
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By Chantal Martineau
In 1990, it was voted a European City of Culture.
In 1999, it was won the title of UK City of Architecture and
Design. And in a recent survey conducted by The Big Issue,
it was officially branded the coolest city in Britain. Glasgow
has come a long way since the days of mass unemployment and
urban crime waves. Today, as the third most popular tourist
destination for foreigners in the UK, Scotland's "other
city" is recognised as an arts centre and clubbing Mecca.
But don't worry you pretty wee heids, lads and lasses: gentrification
hasn't killed that good ol' Glaswegian hospitality.
They say it's the "most Scottish"
of Scottish cities. Who "they" are and how Scottishness
is measured remains a mystery to me, but if friendliness of
the locals, blackness of the humour and indecipherability
of the accent are anything to go by, I would say they just
might be right. I was in the cab
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three minutes by the time I'd asked the driver
to repeat himself for the eighth time. He didn't seem to mind,
though. Neither did the shop assistants, waiters and receptionist
at the hotel. Unlike natives of tourist-infested London and
Edinburgh, Glaswegians seem to bask in their newfound fame.
The city's infamous two-fingers-to-pomposity
sense of humour still gets confused - and may well have been
born of - its reputation as a rough, sooty troublemaker's
haven. Most visitors - be they patriotic Englishmen or irony-deprived
Americans - are appalled when they come across the Duke of
Wellington statue right outside the Gallery of Modern Art.
The statue (and/or its horse) has been unabashedly sporting
a bright orange traffic cone for the better part of the last
decade. Not even the Lord Provost will let the thing be taken
off now.
But this most basic of student pranks isn't
what has been steadily pulling in the trendy weekend-break
set over the last few years. Glasgow's utilitarian-yet-avant-garde
contrast is what gets culture junkies excited. Charles
Rennie Mackintosh buildings were being torn down until
the Eighties when suddenly it dawned on his hometown that
he might be one of the fathers of modernism in the UK. Completely
unappreciated in Scotland during his own time, he found success
in Vienna, Moscow and
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consistently cutting-edge Berlin
but died nearly penniless in London. Today, the School
or Art, his most famous building, epitomises Glasgow's
contradicting personalities. While exclusive groups of stuffy
art appreciators mill about the building oohing and aahing,
wild-haired students covered in paint and plaster bowl them
over in the halls trying to make it to lectures on time. "How
quaint yet deliciously sacrilegious that a place of art can
also double as a practical and operating institution,"
you hear them mutter to each other. Whatever.
The Mackintosh (and Mockintosh,
referring to Mackintosh-inspired prints and designs) that
litters the city is complemented by a frenetic nightlife that,
even by Berlin and Reykjavik standards, is nothing to sniff
at. Glasgow's notoriety as a base for brawlers has all but
disappeared paving the way for its new title as the glitzy,
ghetto-chic must-do gig on every reputable dj's hit list.
But the city's infamy as the home of the Glasgae Kiss
(a head-butt, commonly used in drunken scraps) is not far
enough behind it yet - a 1am curfew is still imposed on late-night
establishments. Clubs can stay open till the wee hours, but
getting in after 1am is unlikely, especially if you've had
one too many a swally.
As in all Northern places - and
not to lose face with famed-for-festivals
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sister city, Edinburgh - Glaswegians
make the most of their summers by packing in a good few street
parties. Maydaze, in early May, is a modern arts and dance
celebration, the West End Festival of music and the arts,
the city's biggest party, runs for two weeks in June and the
International Jazz Festival is held in July. But the weather
is less than reliable and there's not really a best time to
visit. Whenever you go, you'd do well to arm yourself with
a few key phrases just to help you understand the locals.
In case you don't ken (know) any upstanding Glaswegians,
I've done the dirty work for you:
• "A wee upsy-doonsy"
is a drink or pint. It refers to the motion of lifting the
glass up and down.
• A "poke" is a bag of chips or sweets.
•
"She's a braw lassie" means "she is a beautiful
woman."
• "Yer in fir a tankin'" is a way to psyche-out
an opponent before a football match. It means "you're
going to lose badly."
• A "carry-oot" is the alcohol you purchase
in an off-licence; it refers to carrying out the booze.
Note: these are old slang terms
and might only still be used by elderly men and people living
south of the river.
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