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Christine and Shannon， our two young backpackers， had gotten a ride to the outskirts2 of Glasgow， the biggest city in Scotland. They now needed to get into the city； it would be their first visit. They walked along the highway， trying to get a sense of exactly where they were. There was a cold wind blowing. Things didn’t seem promising3. Then a car pulled up alongside them. Three guys leaned out of the windows with a big smile…
We could scarcely believe our ears when they said that they were headed into the city to check on their business， and asked if we wanted to go with. Business meant jobs and jobs were what we were after！
“What kind of business？” I asked.
One of the men， who obviously was in charge， said it was a business selling posters all over Scotland.
We looked at each other in delight， looked back at them， and then both chorused4 at the same moment， “That’s EXACTLY the job that we are looking for！”
All warnings we’d ever received from our parents about not getting into cars with strange men were out the window. We piled in5. Before long we were headed straight into the heart of Glasgow with our three new Scottish friends： Ed， Alan and Terry. Ed was the boss man. No doubt. Though he was in the passenger seat6， he was the loudest and did almost all the talking. He was in his 40s or so—quite round， but seemingly jovial， warm， organised and looked up to by his men.7 Alan was driving. “Straight to St Enoch’s8，” Ed told him.
Ed explained that he had “his folk” selling posters on the streets and in markets all over Scotland. What a life！ Right then we could not imagine anything better than travelling around and making money at the same time！ Alan parked in a huge underground parking lot. He and Terry got two big boxes of posters out the boot9 of the car. They somehow managed to carry them. Our first impression was that Glasgow was very full； people were hustling and bustling10 all over. There seemed to be much more activity than what we’d experienced in Edinburgh.
We headed up by elevator and came up right near St. Enoch Square， a public square on the junction11 of two busy shopping streets. In the square， we met two more of Ed’s “folk”， as he called them. The two men were quite a bit older and seemed a little shy； one had a few teeth missing. They stood in front of boxes of various posters. Some were unwrapped and laid down so that shoppers passing by could see them. The posters were mostly of pop stars， cute animals and beautiful scenes. They reported a good week of poster selling to Ed.12 They counted out money， gave it to Ed， and the two big boxes of posters were left with them. We headed into St. Enoch Centre， a shopping mall right there. The building has a massive glass roof. In fact， it is the largest glass-covered enclosed area in Europe. It was like being in a giant greenhouse as it seemed to be entirely lit by natural light. Ed said， “That’s right. It’s known as the ‘Glasgow Greenhouse’. Almost all the heating in the building is natural； they hardly ever use central heating in here. It’s so huge that the roof’s framework， see it’s all steel， was made by a Scottish shipbuilding company. You know， Scotland was once the shipbuilder of the world… That was before the Japanese， and now the Chinese， took over.” All this， of course， was said in heavy Scottish English. Sometimes we struggled to understand.
By then we’d spotted the ice rink13. We’d never seen an ice rink before. We’d never even seen ice in the sunny place we come from. And what an atmosphere！ All around the outside of the rink were little market-style restaurants： a food court14， it is called. Ed bought us all some good old junk food. Who doesn’t love a burger？
Ed announced that he had a special treat in mind for us seeing as we were new visitors to his country. As they had to travel north to check on poster selling there， he was going to take us on a tour of the hills and lochs15. “Loch” means “lake” in Scottish English， we were told. Back in the car， the five of us headed up through the beautiful Strathblane Hills， then through the Queen Elizabeth Forest Park and past Loch Achray where we saw some beautiful castles along the water.16 We got to Loch Katrine17 as it was turning dark， cold and windy.
It was wonderful heading through stormy darkness and then arriving at a cosy， friendly， warm hotel—the Rob Roy Hotel in the town of Aberfoyle. The hotel is named after the legendary local folk hero Rob Roy McGregor18. Stories abound about this Scottish clansman’s battles and fights with English lords，19 local lords， the authorities， the royal army， cattle owners， other clans… and everyone else， it seemed. A clan is like a tribe or family group. Rob Roy had come to represent the Scottish rebellious spirit and their passion for independence.
“Girls… men… fellow poster sellers… members of my team… I am putting you all up for the night in this good hotel and taking you all out for tea （Scottish for dinner） at the Coach20 Inn next door.” We could hardly believe our ears.
In Europe， from the mid-1600s， for a period of about 200 years， a coach inn was an important part of the inland transport system. Horses， pulling coaches or carriages， usually with passengers， needed to stop every 10 or so kilometres. Of course， now， people travel by car and so the old coach inns are just normal hotels or restaurants. But that is why an old Scottish word for hotel is “change-house” （change the horses）. Many inns still have an entrance into the rear21 that horses and carriages can go through. The Coach Inn we were at was like this. Dinner was in a very old style restaurant， all wood and soft lighting， and had an open area near the bar with two pool22 tables. We played pool and laughed all night. Ed was the boss certainly—confident and， seemingly， in complete control. Alan and Terry obviously respected him a great deal. We were having a wonderful time.
We could scarcely believe our ears when they said that they were headed into the city to check on their business， and asked if we wanted to go with. Business meant jobs and jobs were what we were after！
“What kind of business？” I asked.
One of the men， who obviously was in charge， said it was a business selling posters all over Scotland.
We looked at each other in delight， looked back at them， and then both chorused4 at the same moment， “That’s EXACTLY the job that we are looking for！”
All warnings we’d ever received from our parents about not getting into cars with strange men were out the window. We piled in5. Before long we were headed straight into the heart of Glasgow with our three new Scottish friends： Ed， Alan and Terry. Ed was the boss man. No doubt. Though he was in the passenger seat6， he was the loudest and did almost all the talking. He was in his 40s or so—quite round， but seemingly jovial， warm， organised and looked up to by his men.7 Alan was driving. “Straight to St Enoch’s8，” Ed told him.
Ed explained that he had “his folk” selling posters on the streets and in markets all over Scotland. What a life！ Right then we could not imagine anything better than travelling around and making money at the same time！ Alan parked in a huge underground parking lot. He and Terry got two big boxes of posters out the boot9 of the car. They somehow managed to carry them. Our first impression was that Glasgow was very full； people were hustling and bustling10 all over. There seemed to be much more activity than what we’d experienced in Edinburgh.
We headed up by elevator and came up right near St. Enoch Square， a public square on the junction11 of two busy shopping streets. In the square， we met two more of Ed’s “folk”， as he called them. The two men were quite a bit older and seemed a little shy； one had a few teeth missing. They stood in front of boxes of various posters. Some were unwrapped and laid down so that shoppers passing by could see them. The posters were mostly of pop stars， cute animals and beautiful scenes. They reported a good week of poster selling to Ed.12 They counted out money， gave it to Ed， and the two big boxes of posters were left with them. We headed into St. Enoch Centre， a shopping mall right there. The building has a massive glass roof. In fact， it is the largest glass-covered enclosed area in Europe. It was like being in a giant greenhouse as it seemed to be entirely lit by natural light. Ed said， “That’s right. It’s known as the ‘Glasgow Greenhouse’. Almost all the heating in the building is natural； they hardly ever use central heating in here. It’s so huge that the roof’s framework， see it’s all steel， was made by a Scottish shipbuilding company. You know， Scotland was once the shipbuilder of the world… That was before the Japanese， and now the Chinese， took over.” All this， of course， was said in heavy Scottish English. Sometimes we struggled to understand.
By then we’d spotted the ice rink13. We’d never seen an ice rink before. We’d never even seen ice in the sunny place we come from. And what an atmosphere！ All around the outside of the rink were little market-style restaurants： a food court14， it is called. Ed bought us all some good old junk food. Who doesn’t love a burger？
Ed announced that he had a special treat in mind for us seeing as we were new visitors to his country. As they had to travel north to check on poster selling there， he was going to take us on a tour of the hills and lochs15. “Loch” means “lake” in Scottish English， we were told. Back in the car， the five of us headed up through the beautiful Strathblane Hills， then through the Queen Elizabeth Forest Park and past Loch Achray where we saw some beautiful castles along the water.16 We got to Loch Katrine17 as it was turning dark， cold and windy.
It was wonderful heading through stormy darkness and then arriving at a cosy， friendly， warm hotel—the Rob Roy Hotel in the town of Aberfoyle. The hotel is named after the legendary local folk hero Rob Roy McGregor18. Stories abound about this Scottish clansman’s battles and fights with English lords，19 local lords， the authorities， the royal army， cattle owners， other clans… and everyone else， it seemed. A clan is like a tribe or family group. Rob Roy had come to represent the Scottish rebellious spirit and their passion for independence.
“Girls… men… fellow poster sellers… members of my team… I am putting you all up for the night in this good hotel and taking you all out for tea （Scottish for dinner） at the Coach20 Inn next door.” We could hardly believe our ears.
In Europe， from the mid-1600s， for a period of about 200 years， a coach inn was an important part of the inland transport system. Horses， pulling coaches or carriages， usually with passengers， needed to stop every 10 or so kilometres. Of course， now， people travel by car and so the old coach inns are just normal hotels or restaurants. But that is why an old Scottish word for hotel is “change-house” （change the horses）. Many inns still have an entrance into the rear21 that horses and carriages can go through. The Coach Inn we were at was like this. Dinner was in a very old style restaurant， all wood and soft lighting， and had an open area near the bar with two pool22 tables. We played pool and laughed all night. Ed was the boss certainly—confident and， seemingly， in complete control. Alan and Terry obviously respected him a great deal. We were having a wonderful time.