DISCLAIMER

Please note: at this moment this blog is exactly one week behind actual scheduled events. Current location as of Tuesday, May 30th is London, United Kingdom.

More on Moher

I said more than enough about the cliffs so here are some photos to share with you. This first photo was taken at the edge near the pier. This part of Doolin has a really great view of the Burren, the limestone was completely exposed with lovely flowers growing between the cracks. Walking over the stones made me feel a bit like a giant stepping over skyscrapers.


The next photo is of me lying near the cliff. The Cliffs near Doolin weren't as high as the ones we took the bus to. Still leaning over the edge you could feel the breeze off the ocean and the shear height give me that curious fluttery feeling in my chest. It doesn't look nearly as deep as it is.

This is along the official "Cliffs of Moher" area, there was a restricted pathway marked off by stone walls. Of course we stepped over to walk the 'cow path' along the edge. This lovely sign reminded us to use caution.
Running + Cliffs of Moher = Tripping & Death
Our lovely equation to summarize what could happen to YOU if you are careless in Ireland.

This was taken on our first walk out. My eyes were mysteriously "leaking" at the sight of the countryside. I claim it was the wind off the hills irritating my ducts, or perhaps dust.
This sign makes me laugh. I just like how it says the "cliffs are very dangerous". As if the notorious Cliff brothers will mug you from behind a rock and leave you for dead in the bog!! Or they may throw your body into the cavernous road holes. The road behind me had pot holes big enough to fit a VW into!
Here is a person to do justice to the beauty of the oceanside. *smile* Doesn't Anna look simply lovely? This was the first time she saw the ocean close up. I was like the old veteran. "Hm.. I remember my first time.." (only a year ago though! lol) "Cry Anna, Cry!! FEEL the emotion the expanse of the water and white capped waves bring to your heart!" *ahem*
We were very lucky to see the Moher on one of the two sunny days during the entirety of our stay in the Republic of Ireland. The following day while we left, the fog was very heavy and windy. As our bus to the airport rolled past the cliff tourism centre I could see lines of people struggling to climb up to the obscured view. "ha! suckers!!"

You can see the winding lines from here (the official paved path and unofficial footpath) We stood on the cliff and watched the birds. I picked up a few rocks from the ledge, they were very nice for skipping. I tried to skip a few... but I discovered skipping rocks into the ocean from an altitude of 500 feet doesn't really work. The cute silhouette is a nice little castle on the top.

Nice meeting you Mr. Beckett

Mr. Samuel Barclay Beckett, I am sorry to inform you that before this month, I knew nothing about you at all. However, thanks to your city Dublin, I have depart a much more knowledgeable person on the matter. First off, congratulations on winning the Nobel Prize in literature! 1969 must have been a very good year for you (much better than 1989 I’ll warrant!).
I became acquainted with you at your alma mater, Trinity College. It was in the ‘old library’, probably very near the way it was during your time, that I saw your wrinkly photo and read your notes under the glass. I couldn't read your scrawl very well. Next, we met at Dublin's public library where they had an advanced multimedia set up with movie clips and interviews. I watched a bit of 'Waiting for Godot'.

Throughout the National Gallery your "Passion for Painting" was documented. In the exhibition there were many sketches of you and bits of your work in progress. If we are ever there together you should tell me how you feel about the Rembrandt there. They say this was one of ’your favourite Dublin haunts’. The Photographic Archives exhibition is stuffed with photos from your plays. While browsing the Irish Film Institute there were films by and about you. Now that I have read many of your poems, letters, memos and translations, looked through photos, films and mementos, I might say that you are a fairly agreeable fellow (despite your minimalist and pessimistic nature). If you are in Dublin again (which is highly unlikely since you are dead) you should thank the city for such a generous centenary. It was almost comforting seeing your now familiar face in many windows and on banners. Tell them to get a different photo to display though, the one they are using now isn't very flattering! cheers,
Angela

Nightmares

The combination of touring castles, sleeping in strange places and having weird sleep patterns has proven to be a bad mix. In Doolin I had 2 strange dreams that I could remember.
In one of them my best friend was very angry with me and wouldn't speak to me again. I woke up so depressed it took half the morning to shake the feeling. Dreams that are very realistic and vivid are hard to clear from the consciousness. I wanted badly to call him and check to see if everything was alright. At Coe I can talk pretty much find my friends when I need them. I feel so helpless, unable to hug or talk to my friends at free will. Email leaves much wanting.

My dream last night was very evil. I think it came from seeing the preview to 'The Omen' before I went to bed this morning. Erin, Anna and I were touring a town/castle with Rob and a few other faceless people. We were intrigued by the city's beauty and hospitality. An older couple welcomed us into their home and we accepted. As our weekend processed, we began noticing strange things around us, oddly demonic and disturbing. We were having such a nice time in their home, so we dismissed this feeling.
Eventually, as a few of my friends were 'touched' by these beings they turned into the monsters themselves. You could tell someone had been touched only after death by a strange crimson sunburst pattern on their skin. The false appearance faded and we began seeing things how they were. The town began decaying before our eyes and our hosts had blood red glowing eyes and looked very dead.
After I had been grabbed by one of these things, I was fortunate to wash with Purell alcohol gel which must have delayed the effect. The few of us surviving jumped into my run down car and tried to escape through hundreds of these zombie things blocking the road. Their red eyes peered through the windows and shriveled hands grasped the car doors and windows. I hit the gas and barely made it out.
In the next village we stopped at a pub and told the villagers what had happened. They told us the local myths surrounding the deserted town. Supposedly a odd visitor had come to that village and seduced the people into joining his strange cult. The town had slowly died away and no one dared to enter it again.

Cathedral Hopper?

Sunday morning I walked down Thomas Street to attend sung Eucharist at Christ Church. Not the same substitute as church at home but it was nice to get out of the hostel for awhile. While the service was not what I am accustomed too, as I am good at following directions, I got along fine. The choir sounded amazing in the space. As I struggled along, sight reading the hymns I began to miss singing with the Concert Choir. The church was only half filled 15 minutes after service began. Mostly soggy tourist like myself, trying to extract ourselves from the sticky wooden seats while gripping our damp leaflets. By the time the Eucharist was given I was done drip drying and had finally gotten the whole sit-stand pattern down.

Following service I was invited into the crypt for tea with the 'Friends of Christ Church' organization. I had left Anna and Erin relaxing at the hostel so I wasn't sure about wandering down to some crypt?!? The stone steps seemed to go on for ages, past damp statues and grave markers. I ducked around the corner and noticed the table spread with coffee, tea and biscuits. A few ministers and choir members were mingling with the few that had wandered down. After being approached by a dean? he directed me to Jason, a seminary student from Philly. It was nice hearing about the city from another American. He was finishing his PhD from Trinity and had lived in Dublin for 9 years. I returned to the hostel without much to say, the experience was nice, but in a way that isn't printed in tourism books.

********

Today, Sunday the 28th we raced to Westminster Abby for the 1100 service. Out of breath we noticed sung Eucharist began at 1115 so we caught our breath and stepped in a bit more dignified.
"To the Left" we were directed and I looked nearby for seats. While at Christ Church I had been seated only a few yards from the door. However, we continued walking, walking, and walking into a small alcove the left of the pulpit. The size of the church reflected the sound of the choir. The melody was very intricate and complicated to listen too. I tried to imagine what part I would I would be singing if I belonged to such a choir, but my imagination couldn't stretch that far. The sermon practical example centered around the Puritan witch hunts and over-emphasized how much Christians criticize sin. She spoke again and again about being tolerant and being merciful. All I could think of was how little it mattered to our salvation regarding how we felt about each others sin. It seems to me that I should have a better idea of how God felt about it. Luckily there were very organized communion lines to get the masses of people through.

We skipped over to St. Paul’s for 1515 service. To be honest, we were practically running again. We got to the rear of the church and stood among the crowd (near the sign that said, no tourist on Sunday) and wondered how to get in. Me, being the assertive one, walked to the usher to get us seated. If we went though so much sweat and rush to get there, I certainly wasn't going to turn back around and leave.
Seated midsong we found our place in the program. This service was less participatory than the previous sung Eucharist’s I had attended. We listened to the choir (of which a quarter were boys under the age of 8) and sermon. I confess, I cannot recall what the sermon was about, only that it was sweetly short. The arrangements of the chairs was much more comfortable for me. They were positioned in a familiar half-circle in the center portico facing the choir and pulpit.

At this point I think I have had enough Anglican church services for a year. I confess, the feeling of purposely walking through the confused milling crowd is pretty satisfying. It's opposite of the mindset I have at home. Usually church is in a pretty shoddy neighborhood and you can guarentee no milling crowd outdoors. At least not for long, I'm sure the ushers would find a way to get them all inside. I also miss being a part of the service. I enjoy singing with congregation, saying my own prayer and standing/sitting at my own leisure.

Warning: the following may bring you to tears.

After much consideration I have decided to publish on this blog the most beautiful and awe inspiring piece of poetry pened in all of the western world. (please note the sentence dripping with sarcasm). The following was discovered in a shoddy craft shop on Fisher Street.

Doolin

the landscape of my heart

the place I long to be

when I'm gone I pray

someone will bury me

among the rock walls

berries and flower

in the shadow of the round house

and looming grey tower

so my soul will go on

and forever hear

the sound of the tin whistle

bodhran and fiddle clear

and head over to O'Connors

each night at half nine

for the Celctic Bandits and Dulcert

and a little craic time

A thorn between two roses

These are my travel mates. I always feel like the foreigner between their shining auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. People ask them, "are you two Irish?" A frenchman even took their photo at the pub very satisified with the effect. Could I please step out of the photo? What am I? Chopped liver?!? Nope, I'm a decendent of the oppressive, unliked British. It's very funny.
We have so much in common that we rarely disagree on what sights to see.

Anna, Myself & Erin

Getting group pictures taken by others is an art. You must approach a friendly looking person, preferably in a group, with a smile. After exchanging a greeting you ask slowly, "Would you please take our photo?" They are usually apeased with your offer to take their photo as well. No matter how horrible or great the photo turns out to be, make sure to emphatically compliment their photographic abilities. Accompany the previous with many hand guestures, nods and smiles.

At Dublin Castle

Generic description of Doolin

I can't do justice trying to describe my time in Doolin. At the risk of sounding cliquish, "You just
have to see it." The following in my feeble attempt to relay to you me experiences.

The landscape of the lower Shannon area is characterized by grassy glens and mountains. This supports the prominent dairy industry in the area. Also famous in the area is the Burren landscape, 'boireann' Gaelic for "rocky land". Described by a surveyor in 1640 'a savage land, yielding neither water enough to drown a man, nor tree to hang him , nor soil enough to bury." In this unique environment Mediterranean and alpine plants grow side by side.
Another distinct land form are the cliffs of moher. They rise to a height of 200 m out of the sea and extend for 8 km. This is made of layers of black shale and sandstone. We walked a total of 15 miles in two days just taking it in. Okay, okay! enough from Angela the biologist!


As you can tell, the unique landscape in combination with the village activities provide plenty of countryside entertainment. Apparently, there are two parts of Doolin, the village and the town. See if you can tell the difference!
Doolin was historically a fishing village and is now known as the traditional music capital of Ireland. You can head into one of the three pubs at half nine to enjoy the music. The musicians simply sit behind a table with their instruments and a pint and begin their 'jam session'. People from all over crowd in to listen clutching a pint of cider or Guinness. I sat at a table with people from Canada, France, Norway, US, UK, and Germany. The fun goes until the last person leaves, usually around 0130 or 0230.
*dramatic sigh* words escape me... I will try again later.

Mishap on Fisher Street

We left the city very relaxed- sure that we had forever to meander to the station. At 10:20 we officially ‘checked-out’ which was a matter of just saying goodbye to our friends that work behind the counter. After locking our luggage in storage we walked to the Temple Bar to kill some time. There we spent a good part of the morning looking over prints and photos in galleries and exhibitions. After grabbing a burger from Burger King and catching one last glimpse of Grafton Street and St. Steven’s Green, we went back to the Brewery to retrieve our luggage.
Since it had stopped raining we, or rather I, thought it was best to walk to the station. This central BusErian terminal was completely at the farthest side of our map so we lugged our heavy baggage practically 4 miles! After arriving to the station, we were told to wait and board the bus in dock 11. We actually asked three people to verify that we were bound to Doolin. We had to wait a half hour later than was printed on the ticket and boarded our bus to Limerick. Our ticket said Doolin so we were sure to get off at this exit. However, we switched buses to Ennis, which to our dismay was the last stop for the bus.
Stranded in Ennis we had a few options: Find a B&B or hotel to stay the night, try to catch a taxi to Doolin even though it was much later than the check in time (try to get into our hostel or find another place to stay). After talking to the taxi driver we discovered there was a conference in Ennis and most the hotels were booked. It was in our best interest (or his!?) to take a taxi and find out about the hostel. 50 Euro got us to Doolin and the rest was pure timing. The taxi ride was crazy and it seemed we were going at impossible speeds (I checked, but the max speed was only 80 kph.. how disappointing!). He took hairpin curves and turns in the pounding rain and approaching darkness with ease. I was clutching my bags with white-knuckles!
I instructed the driver that our hostel was on Fisher street.
‘Doolin’s only street!" was his quick reply.
"We’re going to find accommodation here?" I thought. Our hostel check-in times were very strict on the website.. 9pm or never! We surveyed the dark windows of Paddy’s Hostel with dismay. However, our Czech angel was waiting for us at the stoop. In broken English he informed us that we could enter the hostel through the rear door near the laundry and wait until the registrar (his uncle!) arrived from golfing. We figured if worse came to worse we could sleep in the living room. He apparently had left his key in his uncles office and was waiting for him to arrive when we had pulled in.
We crept around the yellow stucco building pulling on all the doors in sight. The first door that led us in opened to a large dark room, it had piles of things to the ceiling and I found myself tripping over mattresses and boxes. We pulled at the doors in this room with no luck. Frightened by the engulfing darkness and towering piles we left to try other exterior doors. The next door led us into a steamy laundry room that opened into a hallway. Suddenly, from around the corner, David appeared!
"No, you uh… must use the kitchen to come through."
Oh right, the kitchen… and where was that?!? Finally, we got into the main area and paid the taxi. We piled all of our luggage into the living room and sat around the coal stove to warm.
After ten minutes the front door opened and in walked the Uncle (also named David) who spoke quickly in Czech to his nephew. He asked us what we were planning to do, we informed him politely that we had reservations here.
"Tonight!?" he replied. "I always wait to golf until the last customer arrived to hostel! You are not on list."
I pulled out our printed itinerary to show him how dreadfully wrong he was. "Look here," I said. "We are booked for the 24th and 25th!"
"Yes, that is good, only problem is today will be 23rd."
How could that be? We missed our departure by a day?! Thankfully, he had room for us that night and we were able to spend an extra day in Doolin. After we explained our mistake he chuckled, "It is okay, I am glad to help, I rode up the hill and see you like three fish in the aquarium through windows. Three very nice fish. You can stay here!"

Goodbye Miss Molly

In Dublin's Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel'd her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus
Alive, alive o!,
alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels
alive, alive o!

She was a fishmonger
But sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel'd their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus

She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus

I say goodbye to Dublin today. The day is finally sunny and beautiful- we suffer through a week of rain and cold and our farewell day is sunny and bright. I hope the city is not celebrating!!

I've really appreciated how advanced things are here. It makes me embarased for my city at home. For instance: there are many cues and tools for the blind and deaf here. If you want to cross the street a button will vibrate at a certain pulse if you cannot cross and another if you can. The noise that comes from the 'button box' is very distinct. A steady beep when you stay safely on the curb and a loud bleerp sound when you may cross... you can hear this sound until you cross to the other side. The money is also sized so that you can tell the value of your euro by its shape. Of course in the U.S. every bill is exactly the same size and shape. It's too bad the bill in my pocket are all very small! I've enjoyed myself very much but now it is time to see the charming countryside. Till then!

Friday:

1. Lunch with Aideen and AnneMarie
2. Book of Kells at Trinity College
3. St. Steven's Green Park and Shopping Centre

Saturday

1. National Library
2. Museums -Arch. and History
3. Picnic in the Park with Butler's Irish Chocolate Mocha
4. Dublin Castle
   
5. Watched dancing at the Arlington Hotel

Sunday

1. Service at Christchurch
2. Decorative Arts Museum
3. made dinner at the hostel
4. RAIN!

Monday

1. Beatty Library (sacred texts)
2. Temple Bar
3. Shopping across the Liffy

Jericho Hills Campground = Dublin?!?

I don’t know why.. perhaps it's the dampness- everything smells musty and chlorine-ish. Every night I lower my weary body into the bunk bed in a dorm full of girls I hardly know with a small blanket that barely guards against the drafty windows. Similar to the small lobby at camp the hostel has a TV room shoved full of shabby couches and pictures of stuffy old men and buildings. People build quick relationships similar to those beloved 1 week camp friendships. They seem very precarious- "we may or may not meet again". Oh yes, and the sound of alarm clocks buzzing and 12 sleepy heads raising in protest. That wonderful pleasure of living out of a suitcase and trying to feel comfortable in a bathroom that isn't yours (did I mention a toilet that only works 1/3 of the time and a shower that runs out of cold water?). Through all of these annoyances, memories that last a lifetime.. *wink*

Thanks to all my Friends!

Friday, 19 May 2006 22:49

My dear International friends,
Now would be a great opportunity for you to say 'I told you so'. A few things I've learned from you in the states, but never understood:

• Beer tastes better in its homeland
• Eat late and slowly
• Hostels are amazing- great deal and great people
• you can tell a lot about people by looking at their shoes
• It's all about letting the wine 'breathe'
• Goodbye to drinking fountains, free refills and free bathrooms
• Coins just feel better to spend

Okay, so I could keep on adding to the list but that's it for now.
After meeting Aideen and AnneMarie we went out to the pub nearby and got some Irish stew and brown bread. I was so relieved to see them show up in the hostel. Like fresh air in the hostel! After they picked up my HUGE suitcase we headed off to the SE side.

Trinity college is beautiful- Viewed the Book of Kells (ancient translation of the 4 gospels from 800s) beautifully illustrated- it took my breath away. That tour takes you into the Old library over 200,000 books from 1600 on. I can't describe it, you should see it yourself. Later I forced Anna and Erin to go into an old hall with skeletons and old dusty collections. We were snapping away till we noticed a sign that said 'Quiet please, testing in progress' weird! what would it be like if people started taking pictures in Hickock Hall?!? Next, a weird art exhibit featuring human finger and skull .. oh! the highlight was the bare pillow covered with human hair..MMMmmm.
Wandered up and down Grafton Street and went through Thomas Square park in the rain.

At the moment we are sitting in the Tv Room just chatting with people from ALL over the world. Amazing and .. dare I say it... educational?!? Everyone is 'pregaming' at the moment so they're pretty relaxed and chatty. It's a bit like Brewed Awakening only different faces and beverages.
Yay! It's the weekend.

Day Three

07:52
Up early today to be sure to check my email. The free internet here at the hostel is very generous but usually warrants a line. At 07:30 no one is stirring in dorm 33, except when I bumped the metal ladder climbing out- 6 heads immediately popped up and looked around sleepily.. whoops!
I'm meeting my friends AnneMarie and Aideen in the city today for lunch. AnneMarie drove down from the North to pick up Aideen from the airport. I haven't seen AnneMarie since March? and Aideen since three days ago while I was frantically packing. I'm hoping to drop off my huge suitcase with them to pick up later. Quick reference to self: When the BUNAC guidebook says to pack-then take half out.. (as in PACK LITE) it's a helpful suggestion. I've got WAY too much luggage! What a pain to transport. Especially through the rain and around cobblestones.
Now I'm up to take a shower.. this hostel is backwards.. the COLD water runs out. So you are always guaranteed a scalding shower. The last couple in always get the 2nd degree burns. JK! There is a very classy sign on the bathroom door that reads, "Remember hostel policy; ‘If its yellow, let it mellow. If its brown, flush it down’.
oh yeah! AND I'm actually up in time for free breakfast.. how bout that?!?