But first, a wee Dedication

Ralph J Matzek was a world traveler - god rest his soul. Ralph didn’t believe in god, though. You may assume he tried to fake some religious devotion growing up a middle child to a saintly Irish Catholic mother and a cranky veteran Czech father (both immigrants), but no. WWII raged while he struggled to sit still in school, in church, at a dinner table with not quite enough food. Ralph was honest to himself and any who asked. Curiosity was his faith. He believed in National Geographic, train tickets, and where the blues and greens met on the map. He believed in lodging with the locals, not hotels, and eating the street food cooked by women wearing hand-sewn dresses. His life code: pack light. Zip only the essentials into a single bag, to better zip-off to hard-to-go-to-places. One bag Ralph.

If only he could time travel back to earth and see all the pins in my map. I would tell him about my odd adventures and "what the locals said to me." And he would scoff at my flying with checked luggage, "That'll just slow you down, kiddo!"

I miss you, Grandpa Ralph.

May this travel log find you in that hard-to-go-to-place after death, in your Hawaiian shirt and ancient wool coat forever smelling of cigars. Your one bag slung over a shoulder. Your passport booklets tucked safely inside.

*ralph matzek | 1936 - 2015*

*my paternal grandfather*

LETTERS FROM LARGS

SCOTLAND IN JULY

Day 1 | july 12th

Largs, Layovers, Little Sisters

My sister Rosie is 9 years my junior, and a most reliable friend. She was the first person I called when calculating trip costs (as I couldn’t justify going solo).

“So Rose… how does Scotland in July sound?”

"um Yes,” was her answer.

She marked off the time with her employer, and we began to book lodging and flights.

Setting out from Cleveland, OH

8AM Saturday

We decided to split this 2 week trip into 4 segments. I was determined to see as much as possible of the green hills and misty coastline. The majority of our stay would be in Largs, a seaside town east of Glasgow where the Ayrshire Atelier of Fine Art is located.

I was enrolling to study with the Atelier Instructors for two weeks: 5 days of Portrait Painting classes with Sarah Margaret Gibson and 5 days of Plein Air Landscape Painting with Lee Craigmile. This was the main purpose of the trip. Ten glorious days to learn from two remarkable oil painters who both studied at the Florence Academy of Art in Italy. These classes would be a bit expensive, but they would amount to much of the formal painting training my career was lacking. I was ecstatic. I’d traveled over the Atlantic a couple times by this point, but never to the United Kingdom. And I had yet to experience formal art training in a proper studio with north facing light. Two vision board items in one month. MY CUP RUNNETH OVER!

During my 9-5pm hours with the Atelier, Rosie would be shopping, exploring, and studying for her own “next level” assignment in her field of theology and community work. A perfect retreat for our respective personalities. What exactly does Rosie do for a living? I can explain this later in more detail - but for now just know that she’s a real good egg, and Northeast Ohio adores her.

“I’ll take the 10-hour-layover-in-Boston for 500 please”

Boy did we get this one wrong.

Cleveland to Boston, then Boston to Edinburgh was our flight plan. Twas the best price for the date we needed to fly. Only one layover…but at the cost of 5000 braincells.

Fellow traveler, never ever accept that a voluntary 10 hour layover is your lot in life. CHOOSE DIFFERENTLY. Airports possess the evil power to take years off your life. That six fingered man’s wicked “machine” in the Pit of Despair scene of Princess Bride would do less damage. By the time Rosie and I boarded our second flight over the Atlantic, it was 11pm and my life blood had drained onto the filthy airport floor. I can’t recall if Rosie had slept well the night before, but I had not. Maybe 4 hours tops. “I’ll sleep on the night flight!” well yeah - if this was a perfect world, we’d all sleep soundly on flights. The knowledge that we had a similar layover scheduled for the return flight home was horrific.

We landed alive, but I could barely function from sleep deprivation. I somehow managed to drag my luggage behind me, while tripping over it twice. “Hello Edinburgh customs! America sends their love” (love of a full night’s rest).

In a haze, I remember switching on our phone eSims, hiring an uber to the Haymarket train station, and setting out on the final leg of the journey. En rout we’d make one wee stop at a Glasgow art supplier to find two additional paints I needed for my class…. before reboarding another train to Largs!

I think this pic was our last train line switch of the day

|titled: SLEEPING WHILE STANDING on a platform in Glasgow

At this point, DAY 2 had begun without my consent.

I had been awake for far too long and had no wits left to maneuver the lock box and hot water tank of our tiny first floor flat. My body had made it to Largs - but my mind was still in an airport somewhere. The sun was shining beautifully, and it was the dinner hour. I decided to take my zombie-self outside and - thank goodness for Rosie - she guided me through those remaining hours heroically till bedtime. She even tucked me in.

I have no pictures of the interior of this particular apartment. It was not particularly special (a tad grungy to be honest) but it was a FABULOUS price for 5 nights and came with a full kitchenette where we cooked many meals that week.

This was it! I was on the seaside in beautiful Scotland. I would wake up in Scotland. And Rosie would be there, to help me out of bed and make sure I didn’t miss seeing Scotland.

I dreamed I was late for class the next day.

a travel log

summer 2025

LETTERS FROM LARGS