Not even the locals like Dundee…
What I see: The 78 Bar, Glasgow
I boarded the bus to Dundee with a smile on my face and eyes full of vibrant Scottish landscape. As the coach neared Dundee, I became excited that I was reaching the ultimate destination of my trip. Upon stepping off the bus, I sought the location of the University, to find out that many of the locals were less than friendly. It ended up that I walked miles uphill in heavy shoes and a gentleman’s blazer with an overloaded backpack in search of the buildings which housed the conference. Three inquiries and several curses later, I found myself at West Park at the University of Dundee, less than impressed. I ate my complimentary lunch, spoke with a few of the conference attendees, and sought my professor to discuss our presentation.
(Un)fortunately, I haven’t any photographs from Dundee. I must return tomorrow to finish the presentation, so I will attempt to snap some then.
When I returned to Glasgow, I attempted to go to the ABC to see Deerhoof, only to find that it was sold out. There were some Uni students outside hoping to catch some scalpers, and I had a short conversation with them about food and drink around the city. After they recommended me several delightful places to eat and drink, I promptly neglected to use their advice and got some second-rate fish and chips. Then I wandered the streets of Glasgow in search of a pub that wasn’t trendy as fuck, found myself at a loss, and returned back to the hostel to find a delightful dive down the street, the 78, where I am now.
Another lager barkeep; I’m sleepin’ alone tonight.