One of the things I've always admired about Elaine is that she lives like a bank robber. Specifically, Robert De Niro's bank robber from Heat, whose motto was "Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat." As Spartan as I've tried to keep my apartment, it will never measure up--or measure down, as it were--to Elaine's.

Elaine's pad in Glasgow is like her pad was in Queens: Hauntingly empty. TV on the floor, couple pieces of mail, a handful of books split evenly between literature and medical texts. In the kitchen, if you want to find dishes or glassware you have to go hunting because the first three cabinets you look in will inevitably be dead empty. The refrigerator has an echo. By the window there's a bag of chips--sorry, "crisps"--that she's apparently bought for my benefit.

Unpacking my rollie seems to double the apartment's contents: I've brought two cameras, cables and chargers for each, the laptop and charger, the iPhone, a travel adapter, three issues of The Economist, my travel notebook, small writing pad, pen, two cartons of smokes I bought at the Duty Free on the way into the country, and ten days' worth of clothes. I suppose the magazines could go but I consider the rest indispensable for a trip overseas.

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Elaine is the perfect traveler's host in that she's not even around, she's at work. I don't mean that facetiously, I mean it gratefully. I like to travel alone and I dislike the notion that you and a friend have to take all your meals together and "do things" just because your geographical coordinates are lining up for a week. Luckily for me she feels the same way, so she gives me a set of keys, a map and no guilt trip.

Incidentally, even her keys are sparing: Two gold keys, one for the front door and one for the apartment lock, on the thin wire ring they give you at the locksmiths. No fobby fob, gewgaws, trinkets or knick-knacks. An FBI profiler going through Elaine's things to fill out a psych profile would not have to sharpen his pencil midway through.

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I'm a fairly forgetful person, so when I try to walk out of my apartment back in New York it takes me forever. Exiting the building I'll realize I've left my phone, camera, cash, cigarettes, you name it.

When leaving Elaine's place to head out into Glasgow, I often see if I can gather what little I'll need for a day out and walk out of the door in 30 seconds or less. And it's the damnedest thing, I fail every time.

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Some photos of Elaine's crib:

Elaine's kitchen, by far the busiest part of the apartment.

Place gets great light.

The breakfast nook. I later found out there was a dining table
and chairs here, which Elaine for some reason disassembled
and placed in the closet. I don't ask questions.

Telly on the floor and a few of her things.

For some reason, all of the cleaning products in Scotland
are named using anti-gay slurs. I'd show you a photo of
the laundry detergent but it was unprintable.

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Up next: Oot and aboot in Glasgow.

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