Depressing Afternoon, Lovely Evening

Betta's friend Helen joined us for lunch this afternoon at our apartment, and then we headed to spend the day in the city center.  We stopped into Penney's, a local department store much like Kohl's - fashion for half the price.  Just like Kohl's, you can find some amazing deals, but you also have to weed through some junk.  Betta and Helen claim that they can point out what a person's nationality is based on what they are wearing.  There is a British style, Italian style, etc. which is unique and often opposing to one another. This is all lost to me because I really don't have an eye for fashion....and I think it shows based on what I usually wear. 

Just like in New York, everyone seems so well put together here: matching accessories, scarves and knit hats, and most importantly, cool shoes.  Every girl, and I mean every last one, is rocking the hippest flat boots (rarely do they have a heel) with skinny jeans.  I have only seen a handful of people wearing sneakers.  Even when people are not working, they are still wearing dressy shoes.  It makes me feel a little inadequate in my reeboks.

After Penney's, we continued on from the commercial to the historical.  Everyone at work told me that I must see Kilmanham Gaol, and this is where the afternoon began to get depressing.  The jail is now aa restored museum.  Every year, thousands of tourists and Irish alike visit the monument because it is a pivotal place for understanding how Ireland gained its independence from England.  In school, I have learned a lot about British history, but very little about Ireland, so this was all an eye-opener for me.  The jail had been used since 1796 and was home to criminals and beggars (during the famine years of 1845-50, many people purposefully commit crimes so that they could get into the jail to eat).  It was a send-off point for convicts to go to Australia.  And, most importantly, it held held political prisoners from the United Irishmen in 1798, and from the 1916 Easter Rising. 

According to our tour guide, many Irish initially opposed the revolution because so many men were already fighting in World War I and people felt that the timing was bad.  Innocent people and soldiers alike were being killed, so the leaders of the rising turned themselves in to end the fighting.  The public tide turned against England, however, after they learned what happened to the men and women in the jail.  The treatment of the prisoners was brutal and all of the leaders were executed for treason.

During the tour, you could actually walk inside the cells and we stood where men had died from the firing squad.  Talk about living history!  The jail is made from huge rocks and limestone so it was somehow even colder inside than it was outside.  I generally have a hard time believing that ghosts exist, but if they did, then I'm sure that Kilmanham is a place filled with restless spirits.  I can't even begin to count the amount of people that must have died within those walls.  The place stinks with misery, and although I'm glad that I went, I was definitely very happy to leave.

We took a bus back to the Temple Bar area and met up with G.  The four of us went to a pub to listen to some music.  Trad Fest was still going on, and every pub had a different set of musicians.  The evening proved to be a much more joyful affair than the afternoon, and the music definitely lightened the mood.  We sampled different places, and wound up eating dinner at the Old Storehouse.  Aside from my fish and chips, this was the first time that I ate out at a resaurant, so it was definitely a nice treat.  I ordered lamb stew and a cider, a traditional meal. 

Helen summarized the night nicely, "Good food, good friends, good music...this is exactly what I think of when I pictured Dublin."  Everyone sings along to the music half the time or sways in their seats.  It's easy to see why people can lose track of time in a pub.  We spent the evening eating, laughing, and trying (and failing) to attract guys. 

I only interacted with one guy....and that was because he spilt beer on my jacket.  "No worries," I said as I brushed down my coat. 

"Oh, you're Canadian," he replied, "I frickin hate Canadians." 

"I'm not Canadian, so you're in luck," I said in return. 

"I'm just joking, just joking.  You can be Canadian....but I don't like maple leafs."

He continued to believe that I was from the great white north for the rest of the evening.  I'm pretty sure he was too drunk to notice.  I still need to get used to Irish sarcasm.  So far, I have yet to hang out with any actual Irish people.  It's definitely hard to meet people in a new place, but I'm glad that I can spend time with my roommate because the pub is a place for friends. 

  This is a horrible picture but this is a circle of musicians.  They are playing the fiddle, the guitar, the penny whistle, the uillean pipes, the violin, the harmonica, and the bouzouki)

 

Four Frenchmen and a Baby

Betta really loves her artwork (she is a conservationist so I can't blame her), and she wanted to visit the Irish Museum of Modern Art (the IMMA) this morning.  I am not a fan of modern art.  Maybe I'm not cultured enough, but I just can't see the "underlying meaning" to paintings with a single line of blue paint on a giant white canvas or scribbles that are supposed to represent the inner turmoil of the human soul.  Nonetheless, I still went with Betta since we sometimes have to make compromises in any relationship.  I am happy to go anywhere new.

The museum was much as I expected, but it was nice to walk around and experience a new part of Dublin.  We had the surprising treat of finding an Italian stylized garden and ate lunch sitting amidst the shrubbery.  The clouds threatened to rain all day, but it was all bravado.  They simply hung ominously overhead without shedding a single drop, so the weather was great.  Chilly, but not unpleasant - about as perfect as you can get in Ireland.

After lunch, we explored a little.  The area is a little unsavory - perfectly safe during the day, but not a place you would want to be at night.  This is namely because the of the major factory located only a few blocks away which happened to be our next stop. 

I truly had a taste of Dublin life today - a taste of Guinness at the Guinness factory.  The tour is one of the most expensive in Dublin, and yet if I had to guess, it probably has the most visitors.   The National Museum is free, and yet, Guinness probably attracts more people by virtue of its flavorful exhibit.    People qued in lines going out the door to witness the brewing spectacular. 

We met Betta's friend G, G's housemate, and also another friend who was visiting for the weekend.  This made me feel a bit out of place because everyone would slip into Italian frequently, but everyone tried to speak English around me.  It's always a little awkward when you are the only newcomer to a group and everyone else has known each other for years; however, everyone was welcoming and I'm glad that they let me tag along.

In my opinion, the factory is a bit overrated, but it is a required tour while in Dublin. I'm pretty sure that you are not allowed to leave the country if you don't get a special stamp on your passport that you visited the factory.  On the tour, you basically talk a walk through the brewing process, starting with the gathering of the hops, barley, and wheat.  You continue through to the germination of the seeds and the adding of the water, which does not come from the River Liffey, contrary to popular belief (thank goodness!).  Then you proceed through the yeast mixture and onward to heating, cooling, and straining (to get all of the yeast particles out). 

You can taste the roasted barley before it is added to the brew.  It had a nice mocha sort of flavor (I realized later that tasting a grain from this pot was a bit like eating the open peanuts at a bar, so I hope that the added flavor wasn't ecoli).  Every ingredient has to be at the perfect temperature and given just the right amount of time before it is used.  The process is actually extremely complicated - making a Guinees take a lot more steps and a lot more time than I realized. 

There is a section of the factory where you can pull your own pint, which is really a cute novel idea, but everyone in my group was more interested in the gravity bar so we made our way upstairs.  Your ticket for entry also provides one "free" pint of Guinness (I put "free" in quotation marks, because you already paid 15 euro for the ticket so I don't know how "free" is really was.)  I gave my ticket to another member of the group, because despite my newfound appreciation of the drink, I still really didn't like the taste (although I couldn't say that very loud in the factory...it would have been blasphemous).  I did, however, take a picture with a pint just so I could have the photo :-)  

The best part about the gravity bar, however, was definitely the view.  It is situated at the very top of the factory, seven stories high and every wall is made of glass.  The circular panorama gives you a unique outlook on the entire city.  We went to the top at sunset - perfect timing for spectacular scenery.

After the tour, Betta and I walked back to our apartment to grab some food.  G had invited Betta out to a birthday party later that night, so I was going to go do something on my own.  At the factory, G wound up inviting me too.  I didn't want to impose since I figured it was kind of a pity invite, but she insisted, so I agreed. At first I thought Betta might be upset that I was coming with her friends again, but I think that she appreciated having a partner to walk home with late at night.  It was unbelievably nice of them to include me.

Betta and I were under the assumption that the party was going to be a big house party type situation.  We were supposed to stay for 20 minutes so that G could make an appearance and then go out to a pub to hear some music.  We were told that there was no need to bring anything.  This was completely incorrect...which brings me to the title of my post - "Four Frenchmen and a Baby."

In the apartment, English was the spoken language because there were four French guys, a French woman and her child, the three Italian girls and one Italian guy....and me.  It turned out that the woman had been cooking dinner for a few hours and the night was supposed to be a sit-down affair.  I felt so embarrassed that I hadn't brought cookies or a bottle of wine (although I'm pretty sure that any bottle of wine that I brought would have been scoffed at anyways).  We were all welcomed into their apartment with a double cheek kiss and everything, even though Betta, Helen, and I were complete strangers. 

The little girl was 2 years old, and I wound up playing with her for a little while.  We played ping pong (or rather, we played "Kristin fetches the ping pong ball after the girl throws it around the room"). I am always so much more at ease around kids than around adults.  I don't have to analyze what I'm saying or worry that my words are being judged.  I know that I should just be myself and I shouldn't fret about these things, but knowing is different than doing. 

For much of the night, I probably looked wide-eyed with knitted eyebrows like a nervous deer.   I tried talking a bit with some of the other people, but I felt separated between the two groups - one side of the room speaking Italian and the other side speaking French, and me in the middle with a ping pong ball and the little girl.  Although English was their second language, many of the French guys already had a great understanding of the double entendre.  Being witty is difficult; being witty in a second language is unbelievable!

We sat down for the first course: foie gras, pate, and bread.  All of the French guys kept looking at me in anticipation, wanting to see my reaction to the food. 

"Don't worry.  We'll tell you what it is after you eat it.  Just try it."  

Too late for that....I already knew what it was: duck liver.  I thought about maybe pretending to be a vegetarian.  Instead, I decided to give it a whirl.  I felt embarrassment rise up my neck and redden my cheeks as every eye watched me take a bite.  "Well, what do you think?"  It was actually pretty tasty.  The pate was beautiful with a richness of spices and a creamy texture.  The fresh baguette was a perfect blend of crunchy crust but soft and warm wheat on the inside.  With a glass of red wine, the first course was stereotypically French...and delicious.

I had a hard time eating, however, because the little girl decided to sit in my lap the whole time.  Her mother had taken her to the table to feed her, but the girl cried out (in French), "No.  I want to sit with Madam!"  She crawled over to me and proceeded to eat half the food on my plate, but it was so cute that I didn't mind at all. 

After the first course, almost everyone went outside to have a smoke, and then we sat down for the main meal: roasted lamb with garden vegetables in a dark, lamb sauce.  The asparugus was tied together into little bundles with a bow of grilled proscutto.  Again, everyone watched as I took a bite and seemed satisfied after I nodded my approval.  

There was probably a lot of sublteties going on around the table that I didn't quite understand.  I overheard someone joking that I didn't understand the wine - "Do you think she swirls her coca cola?  Mmmmm1999, nice vintage....perfect amount of bubbles and sugar."  I thought that this was pretty funny but since it was said to another person and not directed at me, I'm not sure about the intention of the joke.  

Humor is the hardest thing for me to understand here.  The Irish tend to be extremely sarcastic, but they say these comments as if they really mean them.  Without a sarcastic tone, I don't know if they're being serious or joking.  The French and Italian jokes are a whole other mystery for me to solve.  

After a while, I was able to talk with some of the guys and have an actual conversation.  I found a common ground that we could speak about - sports.  They were all big fans of rugby, and the five nations tournament is coming up in Dublin soon, so we had a really nice, animated chat for a while about the games.  I know absolutely nothing about rugby so I was happy to learn more about it from people who grew up playing it. 

At the end of the night as we were leaving, the French guys said that I would have to cook some American food for them.  "I have a wonderful cheesecake recipe!" I said with excitement.  However, my excitement turned to dismay when they said loudly in reply, "Keep your fucking cheesecake!  What a disgrace!  This is horrible!" 

What did I say wrong?  Oh my goodness!  Why had I offended them? I just stood there looking terrified.  It turns out that they thought I was jilting them.  They wanted a full meal. After much uproar, the room quieted and one of them said as an afterthought, "but a cheesecake at the end is nice.  With strawberries." 

I don't know if I will ever see them again, but if I do, I will apparently have a lot of cooking to do.

During this time, I also learned that I was not the only one in the room who was feeling uncomfortable.  Betta sat int he corner for some of the time, and when she was not there, she was tied to Helen's side and she didn't speak much at all through out the night.  It turns out that she is more shy than I am in new social situations.  "I didn't know anyone so how can I join in the conversation?" she said on the way home.  "I prefer to just stay with the people that I know.  I don't like being in a new group of people."  I simply nodded my agreement and told her that I understood.  I don't think that she realized that I was even more out of place than she was!

All in all, the day offered many new cultural experiences.  I hope that I have not given France and Italy a bad impression of Americans.  I know that I need to loosen up quite a bit and be more assertive.  Baby steps, baby steps.  This trip is becoming even more than a great learning experience for work....I am also learning quite a bit about myself.

Trad Fest

Each day, I wake up, eat breakfast and pack lunch, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed. 

I am in one of the coolest cities in the world, and during the week right now, I basically see my office and the inside of my apartment.  Same old, same old. 

I'd like to say it's not my fault - I don't know many people yet, so when they cancel plans or don't want to do anything, then I have no one to go out with.  I could also blame safety.  I don't want to go out at night by myself because it's not safe to walk alone on unknown streets in the dark.

During the week, I reluctantly give in to the pattern, but tonight is Friday.  Tonight is going to be different!  There are a ton of concerts going on all over Dublin because this week is Trad Fest.  Every afternoon and evening, bands are playing in all of the major pubs and Irish heritage films are being shown in the cinemas.  If I am lucky enough to be in a city during a festival, then I want to take advantage.

I ask at work if anyone wants to hang out...."I'm too tired" is the response. 

I ask my roommate if she wants to go out for a pint after dinner..."It's too expensive" is the response.  Yes, a pint is expensive, but if you are only having one then paying 5 euro for a whole night out is actually pretty cheap if you ask me. 

Sigh...another early night.  I decide to at least go out and get my grocery shopping done for the week.  I wasn't quite sure where the Tesco was located, but I made my way.  While I was walking, I started to feel more adventurous.  I was out at night right now, and everything seemed safe enough.

There must have been something in the night air because I felt downright intoxicated with fortitude by the time I finished at the store.  I would go out, even if I had to go alone!  I was not going to let my decisions be ruled by other people's availability.  I wanted to spend a night at Trad Fest, and nothing was going to stop me! (Right after I put away the groceries of course....but that kind of deflates the excitement I was attempting to build.)

The Temple Bar area is the heartbeat of Dublin and was also where most of the musical acts would be performing.  There is a pub on every corner and shops line the cobbled streets.  The sector is so much more alive at night, as though it runs on a reverse time schedule from the rest of the city.   I realized right away, however, that I was not quite dressed appropriately.  I had just thrown on sneakers in my haste to get down to Temple Bar (and besides, my apartment is a half an hour walk away from city center - who wants to do that in heels?).  Most people were bundled from the cold (except for a few crazy drunk girls wearing mini skirts), so I would have been fine in jeans but sneakers are out.

 I decided to just walk towards music and enter the first pub that made the loudest noise. That pub turned out to be The Auld Dubliner.  Despite my newfound fortitude, I still felt a little weird going to a bar by myself.  I didn't want to be "that person" who sits alone and drinks in a corner.  I figured that I would try to find a table with one or two people and see if I could join them.  When I opened the door, however, I changed plans. 

The room was packed like a sardine can!  The guitarist was sitting right next to the door; I had to maneuvar so that I wouldn't hit the neck of his guitar as I came in.  I was greeted by a sea of bodies, a hundred people stood elbow to elbow listening to the music.  I inched my way in between an older woman and a bunch of guys, and I literally only made it two feet inside the door.  If I moved slightly to let someone else get in, my space was sucked up right away and I had to inch my way back.

I quickly gave up on the idea about getting to the bar area.  Instead, I just stood as part of the crowd and enjoyed the most beautiful music.  A guy played a guitar while his partner sang.  She also played the fiddle and the penny whistle (though not at the same time, of course).  They played popular songs like "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" by Marvin Gay, but they Irish-ized them.  The duo put a whole new twist on the songs by adding traditional licks and improvising new strands. 

The guy played his guitar so hard that a string actually burst and flew off in the middle of a song.  The girl had a gorgeous alto voice which could be both ribald for a drinking song, and hauntigly lyrical for a slow mourning song.  At times, you could hear a pin drop as everyone was silent to listen.  At other times, every single person in the pub sang along to the chorus with one hand holding a drink and the other hand holding a friend.  The weather outside was cold, but everyone inside was snug and warm, singing close together.

When the girl wasn't singing, she was playing the fiddle to join the guitar.  Her fingers would fly over the strings as she stamped her foot to the beat.  You could almost see the notes dance across the room as she slid her bow across. I could have sat for hours listening to them.  I have never heard a fiddle played live before, but now I am in love.  You can't appreciate the sound until you have heard it right in front of you in the atmosphere of a genuine pub. 

I left after they finished their set because I didn't want to stay out too late (baby steps, baby steps).  On my way home, I passed a group of people giving out free hugs.  They all carried signs that said "Free Hug from Mexico," or from France, or from Australia.  It sounds weird in written form here, but it was actually quite cute in a hippie sort of way.  Everyone in the Temple Bar area is very chill and happy....and also very drunk.

As I crossed the bridge to get back to O'Connell Street, I thought two guys standing next to the edge seemed a little strange.  What were they doing?  I wished that I hadn't looked.  Let's just say that I won't be taking a drink out of the Liffey River any time soon. 

All in all, it was a nice night.  I still think it's nicer when you can go out with another person so that you can share the experience, but I'm also glad that I didn't let being alone stop me from doing something new.

Pronunciation Problems

As an outsider, I am finding Gaelic to be one of the strangest languages that I have encountered.  I thought English was bad with silent letters and changing vowels.  Gaelic, however, takes confusion to a whole new level.  Some letters sound like a combination of two, other letters sound completely opposite to their written form, and still other letters have decided not to make a sound at all.  Imagine taking the alphabet and throwing everything in the air....whatever lands on the ground is the way that we will spell the words.  I really need to take a class to learn more about the language!

To my untrained American ear, the pronunciations of some places are near impossible.  If I put a whole bag of marbles in my mouth and spoke, I would probably sound clearer than when I try to say Gaelic words.  For example, I needed help at the bus stop, so an older woman named Niamh (Neeve)  told me when the next bus would arrive.  She started talking to me about her daughter Siobhan (Shiv-awn) and her son Eoghan (Owen). I told her that I was in Dublin, but I am hoping to visit Clonmacnois (Klon mack noys) and Glendalough (Glen-da-lock) in the next few weekends.  Her family is living in Dublin now, but she is originally from Cork.  (Look up a video of the Irish comic, Tommy Tiernan, on youtube imitating a Cork accent http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRm9Q2KfzBA .)

I've been told that Cork accents are distinctive, and even though Ireland is a small country, there are many forms of the Irish accent.  I can only separate the accents into two categories - understandable or not.  Dublin is clear, Cork makes sense, and Sligo I'm completely lost.  According to a friend, accents from Kerry are the sexiest, but I cannot understand a word.  They literally might as well speak in another language. 

When I am listening to a person with this accent, I just try to look interested, nod a few times at random places in the conversation, and say "I know!  So cool!" at the end....hopefully I can feign understanding enough that people won't notice.  (Hopefully, I never talk to anyone who is relaying serious information; otherwise, my plan may cause some problems.  "....and that is when I found out that I had stage three cancer." pause  "I know! So cool!")

Even though Dublin is a major metropolitan city, it still has the feel of a small town.  Everyone seems to know everyone because, even if they don't personally know someone, then at least they know a cousin who knows the aunt of the person who can tell you all about him/her.  You have to be careful if you are gossiping - you never know who may be sitting at the next table!   Politics take an interesting twist because people discuss positions and platforms, but they can also discuss a politician's personal life because they went to high school together. 

Everyone here seems to have an intense pride in Ireland as a nation, and they also have a strong tie to whatever county or city they happen to be from.  It's really wonderful to be around people who love their country and care about its future.  There is an election coming up in February which should prove to be very interesting.

A Lonely Walk

I was prepared for this.  I knew that it would happen.  This is nothing new.

But awareness of the problem doesn't cause it to stink any less. 

After the excitenment about the "new-ness" of a place begins to wear off, you are hit with the realization that you are alone.  You are no longer a tourist; however, walking along the streets, you still feel like an outsider.  Like you don't belong.  You realize that you are in a major cosmopolitan city filled with thousands of people, and yet, no one here would care if you disappeared. 

Whether you move to a new town or a new country, it takes time to make new friends.  I'm actually far ahead of most people - I have an incredible, amazing roommate who immediately shared a bond with me, I have wonderful, awesome coworkers who are willing to hangout after work, and I already had dinner with a family friend.  I have a call in to a local football (soccer) league too, so hopefully I can join a team and meet people there.  These are all excellent starts to wonderful friendships....but every relationship is still new, and sometimes it gets tiring. 

Most friendships need much longer than one week to form.  I know it takes a long time to get a network of people going.  And yet, it's very easy to feel intensely lonely and homesick.  You begin to miss the comfortable feeling of old friends. 

It's one thing to be alone by choice because you want quiet time.  It's a different feeling when you are alone because you have no one else to be with.

I have Mondays off since I work during the weekend, so today I was all by myself.  I decided to take the day to chill out and do normal, mundane things, like laundry and grocery shopping at my local M&S (not to be confused with S&M!). 

I took a walk through Phoenix Park, the largest city park in Europe.  The place was massive with fields stretching for miles.  It is where most Dublin recreation takes place - a perfect spot for jogging, bike riding, and picnicing.  It's right next to the Guinness Factory too so, if you wanted, you could really make a day of it.

I, however, decided to only tour the park and leave the Guiness for another day.  I just kept walking, figuring that I would go as far as my feet would carry me.  I discovered that Phoenix Park is home to Dublin's Zoo, a few monuments, and the President. 

I actually walked past the President of Ireland's house at first, and I didn't realize it.  A tour bus stopped and I heard the guide muffle something through the speakers so I decided to investigate.  That's when I found the  plaque.  The Irish "white house" has been in the park ever since Ireland became an independent nation.  The American ambassador is the only other person to share the grounds, an honor reserved for the US since America was the first country to recognize Ireland's independence. 

I continued walking for about a mile, but I suddently stopped short and stared.  I had come across a huge herd of deer!  The males were passing the time by ramming their antlers together while the femals passively looked on with disinterest.  So, the park is home to the President and a random crazy herd of wild deer.  Interesting.

I was so busy staring at the deer that I didn't realize that I had just stepped into a big pile of horse poop.  (I guess manure is a hazard of polo. I don't know the rules to polo.  Do you get extra points if the horse goes to the bathroom during a game?)  This was basically the highlight of my day.  If horse poop is the most exciting thing that happens, then you can see why it was easy for me to feel lonely today.

Luckily, I go back to work tomorrow.  I do not relish waking up in the morning, but it's nice to do be doing something fun and to have a place to go.  I'm happy that I'll be around other people for the rest of the week.

The infamous deer....no poop in sight, but it's there....I know it's there.

The President's house...no joke, I waited in front for 10 minutes before the wind finally blew the flag open.

The pope gave a sermon here.

Howth It Going?

So I posted pictures before, but here is the written compendium to explain the background behind the pictures. 

On Sunday, Betta and I decided to do some exploring outside of Dublin.  The DART train is a system which runs along the coast which goes all the way out to the furthest eastern coast: Howth.  The town is very Hamptons-esque with tiny villas which probably cost a million dollars.  (Apparently, many famous people, like the lead singer from the Cranberries, own properties.) Although the houses themselves aren't all that grand, the view is unbeatable - location, location, location.   Being winter, the sky is always gray, but you could still see for miles across the ocean.  (Upon looking at the pictures, my aunt asked if I had a tint on my camera.  Nope, I replied, but there is a constant tint on the country.) 

We arrived relatively early in the morning, and the fresh air markets were just setting up.  The aromas of fresh bread, raspberry scones, eggs and sausage all wafted to you as soon as you stepped off the train.  Straight-from-the-garden produce and other farmer's market items lined the road.  I had to really force myself not to buy everything in sight and stuff my face.  Everyone was in such a good mood, and why not?  I would be in a good mood if I was surrounded by cupcakes too :-). 

We pryed ourselves away from the food and walked down the road to Howth Castle.  There is a legend attached to the castle (I suspect that most castles get legends attached to them at some point).  In 1575, a pirate-ess named Grace O'Malley landed at Howth on her way to visit Queen Elizabeth.  She arrived at the castle looking for a mealand cited Irish laws of hospitality at the gate; however, she was still refused admittance.  The baron was having dinner and was not to be disturbed.  In retaliation, she abducted his only heir and held him hostage until the baron finally promised to always set an extra place at dinner for a lonely traveller.  The family lived in the castle for over 800 years, and although we do not know if the legend is true, the tradition of setting the extra place still existed for as long as they owned the castle.  Today, a cooking school operates out of the castle.  It seems fitting.

The town of Howth is actually relatively small with most shops lining the docks and two streets.  Nonetheless, we still worked up an appetite and we decided to tuck into some fish and chips.  Bershoff's is a "fast food' fish and chips place, but it is still amazing!  With salt and vinegar added, the fresh haddock and french fries were cooked to a greasy perfection.   We ate on the docks, overlooking the water.  The weather was freezing, and by the end of the meal, my fingers had quite literally turned bright red, but it was still worth it.  There is nothing like eating fresh fish on the ocean.   

We had decided to grab lunch early because afterward we hiked the National Looped Trail.  This walkway goes along the cliffs.  At some points, the trail narrows quite significantly and you must be a bit careful - it's a long way down to the jetties below!  The reward, however, is a breathtaking view of Ireland's famous rocky cliffs, green hills, and thunderous water. In the summer, the flowers blossom and vivid violet buds will cover the landscape.  Now, the hills are mostly barren, but there is still a cold strength to the mountains.  The lack of growth highlights the hard beauty of the jagged stone outcrops. 
As we hiked and we looked out across the water, all I could continue to say was Wow.  Although not at all eloquent, there was no other words that I could think of to fully capture the brilliance of the views.  We would hike thirty feet, stop, and Wow.  Continue on, stop, and Wow.  The cliffs leave you speechless.  Unfortunately, they also leave you breathless too - we were dying about halfway through the hike.  My thighs are going to be as massive as Ireland's hills by the time this trip is done.  We spotted many birds and a rusted out car at the bottom of one of the cliffs (I thought the "don't drive over the side" sign was a joke, but I guess they were actually having some problems....)  Betta and I only got about halfway around the mountain before we decided to head back since it was starting to get dark and no one wants to be stuck on an unlit cliff at dark (the sun goes down at 4:30 - so early just like at home) .

The train ride home was the only negative to the whole day.  One of the train cars was full so we went to the next one on the line.  The next one was mostly empty, so I figured it would be perfect.  However, my powers of observation were severely lacking.  I didn't realize that there was a big group of teenagers all huddled at the far end of the car.  If I had been thinking clearly, I would have realized that they were the reason the car was empty, but I didn't connect the dots.  As we entered, one of the boys actually pulled out a gun. 

Believe it or not, I was unphased.  I was not being brave nor was I being courageous.  I kept my cool simply because I realized right away that the orange tip on the barrell indicated that the gun was just a well-made replica.  He pointed the gun at us and said "Stick 'em up" as though he was some imitation gangster.  Surrounded by his friends, he obviously thought that he was being funny.  I gave them the dirtiest look of disdain that I could muster (knowing myself, I probably looked constipated instead of angry, but at least I tried). 

The boys proceeded to say very dirty things which I shall not repeat here.  Betta hadn't noticed any of this because the losers were too cowardly to say these things very loud.  I whispered to Betta that we should switch cars, and once we were safely in another part of the train, I told her what had happened.  I know that I made the best decision (just to leave), but part of me really wishes that I had yelled at them or called a police officer because they made me so angry.  Why do some teenagers act this way?  Apparently, idiots are not just found at home; there are immature jerks all over the world.

Spitting

I've noticed that an exorbitant amount of people spit around here: spitting in the streets, spitting on the sidewalk, spitting in the river, spitting everywhere.  Sometimes, it's not even just a little piddle, but a full blown, took-a-big-snort-beforehand loogie.  It's disgusting enough that I felt I had to mention it.

A few Pictures from Howth

Seals

Dogs

and birds, Oh my!

At the pier

Caution! Don't drive over the ledge!

fish and chips

hidden castle

Dangerous cliffs ahead at the National Looped Walk! 

It is nice to travel with another person....not only did Betta and I enjoy each other's company, but it also means that we both have pictures with us in them!  Now, I have pictures of people instead of just buildings!  Travel is so much nicer when you can share the trip with someone.

My First Guinness

The building styles in Temple Bar

On Friday night, I had my first Guinness! 

Betta and I went out to a pub after work (in Dublin, if it's 5 o'clock, then it must be time to drink).  We met up with an Italian friend of Betta's.  G. has been living here for almost a year, so she already knew about some of the nicer pubs.  The good spots in Dublin are all in the Temple Bar area.

First, we tried The Long Hall first which is located on St. George's Street.  The place was packed - standing room only.  I loved the atmosphere though.  It still had original furniture from the early 19th century so it was preserved as a traditional pub and it had a sort of speakeasy feel to it.  The wooden bar was beautifully carved and the wall behind it was filled with shelves of every bottle of alcohol you can imagine.  However, since we couldn't snag a place to sit, we moved on to G's other favorite hotspot, The Stag's Head.

The Stag's Head was just as grand as the Long Hall.  A wall of kegs were stacked outside the door, some empty and some waiting to be brought in.  Vomit already stained a sidewalk.  A bartender who was clearing a table carried 30 empty cups at once - this is no exaggeration!  She had three columns of pints, each 10 cups high, and they swayed to and fro as she walked, but nothing ever fell.  I was definitely impressed. 

The Stag's Head had an upstairs and two rooms downstairs, and of course, the long bar area.  The building's architecture and furniture maintained its original Giorgian syle.  You order your drinks at the bar and then take them back to wherever you find a chair.  The tables are all almost on top of one another, so that it makes the place loud and cozy - a perfect pub. 

G was nice enough to buy the first round of drinks.  Usually, instead of buying your own, each person takes a turn buying for the table.  (However, because we hadn't eaten dinner yet, we only got one round so I will have to repay the favor to G at another date.)  Also, when you order your beer, you must specify that you want a glass....if you just ask for a normal size, then you get a gigantic pint!

Now that I knew what size to order, I was faced with a new dilemma - what kind of beer should I get?  This may seem like a no brainer, but there is a back story.  I have only had a Guinness once before in my life....and I hated it.  The drink is so thick, you need a knife and a fork to eat it.  To me, it has the consistency of thick molasses, and tastes like bad cough medicine.  I wasn't going to order one at the pub, but Betta talked me into it.  "Your first drink in Dublin must be a Guinness!" she exclaimed. 

There is a science to Guinness here.  It took the bartender a good five minutes to get my beer out of the tap.  The slower the tap, the better the Guinness.  I was also warned not to drink it right away.  Taking a sip as soon as you sit down is bad form because the Guinness hasn't had time to settle yet.  You can actually see the beer change color and get darker.  I didn't realize that it would be so involved! 

I took a tentative taste.....and it actually wasn't that bad.  I still wouldn't order it on a regular basis, but the Guinness here was much, much better than what I tried at home. 

I read somewhere that Dublin's water is what makes the beer taste so good.  I don't know if that is the true secret ingredient, but I agree that they know how to make it right.

Will Work for Coffee

I haven't quite understood the value of a euro yet.  To me, everything is expensive since the exchange rate is so horrible (1 euro = $1.75), but I also don't have a feel for the worth of items. 

At home, I know right away that a $6 bottle of shampoo is too expensive, but here, even a tiny sized bottle cost me 3.50 euro - it had better be the most luxurious hairwashing of my life!  Did I get ripped off or is that an average price? 

Dublin, like all cities, is double the cost of a normal town.  You can save a lot of money by learning tricks of the trade (like getting food at the grocery store instead of getting take-away all the time), but your bank account is still going to feel the pinch. 

I have only been here a week and I already spent 150 euro!  I opened my wallet the other day and I swear that my wallet made a groaning noise.  Where does it all go?  I started keeping a written log of everything that I spend so that I could keep track.  The log keeps me from having a panic attack because I can see where I am spending.  Food, toiletries, toilet paper and whatnot (very important), bus fares....just normal cost of living items start to add up. 

I have been trying to scrape by on a lot of things.  For example, I eat a lot of potatoes.  That's right, just a potatoe with some carrots and peas for dinner.  Mmmmmm delicious (I'm trying to understand the Irish Potatoe Famine firsthand.)  I'm back on the college student diet.

However, to be completely fair, I found out that I have no problem spending money on other things.  Everyday so far, I go out with friends from work for coffee (occassionally I have gone twice in one day).  I can never say no to coffee or to socializing!  I've actually given up taking the bus to-and-from work....I don't have a great love for walking, but if I walk, it means that I can use my bus fare to buy coffee.  If that doesn't scream addiction, then I don't know what does. 

Butler's Chocolate Cafe is like a gift from heaven.  Not only is their mocha cappuccino out of this world, but they also give you a delectable piece of rich chocolate to eat after you finish your drink.  Is it bad that I'm starting to get the shakes just thinking about it?  Maybe I should cut back....

My other great weakness is books.  I am a self-professed bibliophile.  I bought a book of Irish fairy tales and legends because I like learning the local lore wherever I go.  But then, I also noticed that The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest was already out in paperback here.  I have been waiting for months for this book!  It only just came out in hardcover back home.  At 9.50 euro, how could I resist?  (Hopefully the British/Irish English won't confuse me too much.)  I'm going to need another suitcase just to bring back my new library.

Moral to the story: I may be tired from trudging all over the city and walking many miles every day, but at least I am happy because I am highly caffeinated and well read :-). 

I thought I could speak English....

I was eating dinner with Betta the other night and I asked her about her favorite foods at home.  "Aubergine parmiagano" was her response. 

"It sounds delicious!  What does that mean in English?" I asked her. 

"I am speaking English," was her reply.

Huh!?  We consulted her Italian/English dictionary, and I learned a new word.  "Aubergine" is apparently the British word for "eggplant." 

So far, I haven't had any problems understanding anyone, but I have had a few question mark moments.

Here are a few others:

"That's grand."  - Used all of the time....synonomous with "awesome," but sounds much more refined.

"Earwigging" - listening in on another person's conversation

"lads" - the guys

"fag" - a cigarrette (You're smoking what?!)

"boot" - trunk of a car

And the most important, "craic" (pronounced "crack") - fun / a good time (although, to be fair, this is Gaelic, not English.

Learning about Global Politics

The museum is located right next to the parliament building.  This is where the Dail (pronounced Dole) meets to do whatever it is that governments do on a daily basis.  I'm glad that I found out about this out - I was wondering why there were so many people with cameras standing outside the museum!  If you see me in the background of some protests on the news, don't worry.  I am not actually in the protests; I was just caught on camera while I was walking to work!

Today, there were loud protests going on outside (you could hear them from within the offices in the museum).  According to newspapers, six parliament members resigned so far in the midst of the financial troubles and negotiations with the EU.  Today's protestors had signs indicating that they wanted to save a hospital from being shut down.  To further emphasize this, there was a man on a hospital bed being pulled around by a donkey labeled "ambulance."  No word about how the donkey felt about this.

It's rather exciting to be in the thick of things right in central city (although like I said before, I'm not actually involved, so never fear).  Right now, I am fairly very ignorant about world politics, but I'm excited to understand more about international news.  

A Day at the Museum

It is the night before my first day at work, and instead of sleeping, I lay staring at the darkened ceiling.  The clock shows midnight; worry and fear keep me awake. 

The past few days in Dublin were great - I was reveling in my new adventure.  I thought that I had ended my friendship with Doubt.  I had thrown him out of the airplane somewhere over the Atlantic, never to be heard from again...or so I thought.

Doubt must have found a life jacket and a buoy and made his way to shore.  Not only had he found my address, but now, he was banging on my door.  Let me in.  Let me in.   I have learned that, even when you only open the door a crack, Doubt forces the doorway open all the way.  He has a sinister way of sneaking in through a crack, and then suddenly, you are faced with a full blown panic attack.  What a party crasher!

What if I didn't live up to expectations?  What if I didn't know enough?  What if I was unprepared? 

That night, I tried to remind myself that Doubt was only in my head.  I had two choices:  I could let Doubt rule my life or I could take back control.  If I decided to live within the limitations that Doubt imposed, I would feel much more safe and comfortable....but I would be miserable because I would not be following my dreams.  If I decided to take a chance and live outside my comfort zone, then I would be scared....but I would be growing in character. 

At least that's what I kept telling myself.  The words sounded all well and good, but they actually did nothing to calm my fears.  In reality, my courage was severely lacking.   I barely got any sleep, but ready or not, time ticked forward, and morning came.  I went to my first day of work.

I don't want to say too much about it because I don't want to bore anyone (....I don't know why, but neolithic tools and bronze age bracelets don't seem to interest most people...) However, suffice it to say, I am absolutely in LOVE with the museum.  All of my fears and worries were for nothing!

Many of my colleagues my age, and they are all so friendly and kind.  Everyone made me feel welcome right away.  I love my coworkers.  I love all of the exhibits.  I love the work that I will be doing.  Did I mention that I love everything? 

In case you couldn't tell, I am very happy with my internship.  Also, almost everyone takes a coffee break during the morning, so I already feel right at home :-)  I am learning so many new things every day --- what an experience!

I now have my official ID badge and a key.  I am so paranoid about losing them though.  I already thought that I lost the key once - fifteen minutes after it was given to me!  I almost had a heart attack (that would be just my luck).  Luckily, a coworker had only accidentally moved the key to another desk, and it was recovered shortly.  Whew!

My only other regret is that I wish that I had known that I would need to take a picture for my ID.  I wore my hair up on the first day in an attempt to look professional.  In the picture, however, I wound up looking like an old maid, and I think that one of my eyes is partially closed too.  I don't know how I managed to look so horrid, but I succeeded - it's a gift really.  Nonetheless, I still feel awesome to have my badge and to be a part of such a wonderful and historic place. 

When I wake up in the morning, I am excited for the day ahead.  I don't pull the covers over my head when the alarm rings; instead, I jump out of bed.  (Actually, this is a major exaggeration because I definitely don't do any jumping until I have had at least one cup of coffee....but you get the idea.)  Getting the chance to walk among the exhibits before the museum opens to the public is like a dream; I can't believe that I am here.

I have only been on the job for a few days, but the internship is already confirming for me that I have found my dream career.  When I get back home, I just need to figure out how to get paid to do this kind of work, and then I will be set :-)

I know that Doubt is something that never totally goes away, but now hopefully, I will be better prepared for his next visit, armed with the knowledge of what I have accomplished.

How to Fit a Day of Touring into Two Hours

The handle to our room's door does not quite fit, so to keep it shut, you must lock it every time otherwise it will swing open unexpectedly.  This can happen at inopportune moments, as you can imagine. 

Betta and I told our landlord about our situation, and he said that he would swing by to fix the problem.  Just leave the door unlocked and he would take care of it.  This, obviously, left us feeling very uncomfortable - thieves step right up; no work necessary.  I asked him if he could tell me a specific time when he would stop by so that I could just wait for him at home.  After some hemming and hawing, he finally agreed to come between 10am and 12pm. 

Perfect. 

I eat breakfast and watch a UK talk show called Loose Women; it's like The View but with humour.  Afterwards, I sit through a UK soap opera called Holly Oaks.  Then, I eat lunch while watching BBC News.  All in all, it was a great morning filled with food and British entertainment, but now it is 1pm and I'm still sitting in my apartment when I could be out on the town.  I like my landlord a lot - he is very helpful, nice, and wonderful - but he is obviously not punctual.  I call him on my mobile and he says he has "an appointment change" and will come by at 4pm....no wait....actually he will come at 3pm. 

Not so perfect. 

But I refuse to be daunted!  I throw on my running shoes and sprint, yes sprint, down O'Connell Street.  The street is full of obstacles so I weave through the crowds, jump over baby carriages, and shove the elderly out of my way.....okay, so actually I did only one of the above (guess which one) but everything sounds much more dramatic this way.  I was bound and determined to go on the tour of Christchurch Cathedral like I had planned originally.   The church is in the old Temple Bar area so it should be easy to find.

Maybe easy for normal people anyway.  I take a wrong turn, but end up coming into the back entrance of Dublin Castle (sometimes getting lost turns into a bonus). 

Inside of the castle's chapel

 

The castle also houses the Revenue Museum.  This sounds awesome, but I find out that revenue actually refers to a history of tax collecting.  Nevertheless, I go inside anyway since there is no admission fee (hey, why not?).   I nod at the gaurd and he winks at me!  Granted, it was not at all an "I think you're hot" wink - it was completely fatherly since the guy was at least 65 years old, but it still made me happy.  My first wink in Dublin :-)

Fun Fact from the Revenue Museum: Dubh means black in Gaelic.  Dublin (or Dubhlinn) gets its name from the black pool which connected to the River Liffey.  The Vikings actually were the first to settle and create and name Dublin as a city so that they could raid towns and take the first form of "taxes" (aka pillaging).

It turned out that Christchurch was only a few streets over from Dublin Castle, and I still had an hour to spare so I finally got my tour. 

It is a relatively small cathedral compared to ones from other parts of Europe, but the intricate stonework carvings and stained glass have a special place in my heart.  While I was there, an orchestra was rehearsing for an upcoming concert so I sat in the pews and listened to some classical music.  Nothing is more beautiful and lyrical than violins and harps.   It added the perfect touch to an already gorgeous ambience. 

I also went down into the church's crypts.  Don't worry; they are not nearly as spooky as they sound.  Currently, the crypts display the church's relics which include gold chalices, crucifixes, ledgers, letters from kings, carvings for sarcophogi, etc.  (What is the plural of a sarcophogus?)   The letters and ledgers were amazing - I wish that I could do calligraphy like that.  Even the accountants had perfect penmanship with flourishes in the 15th century.  Meanwhile, I can barely scrawl my name ledgibly!  The crypt also housed an old gallows (I can think of a few people to throw in there), and some midieval wardrobe (see below).

Fun Fact from Christchurch Cathedral: Apparently, when the church staff was cleaning out the organ, they found a mummified cat and mouse stuffed inside a pipe.  The pipe proved to be the perfect environment for mummification and the two were forever preserved chasing each other (they presumably got stuck during said chase).  The exhibit's label further explained that James Joyce makes reference to them in "Finnegan's Wake" when he describes someone, "As stuck as that cat to that mouse in that tube of that Christchurch organ..." 

After touring the church, I looked at my watch.  2:30pm.  I had a half an hour to go so I made a mad dash back to the apartment and opened the door at 3:01.  Not bad....except my landlord didn't arrive until 4:00pm. 

Oh well.  At least our door is fixed :-) ....and that is how you cram a day's worth of touring into 2 hours.

Mmmmmmm Beans on Toast

Mmmmmmmm Beans in tomato sauce on Toast.   A typical Irish / UK lunch. 

How do you make this delicious meal you ask?  It is very difficult -

Step 1: Make toast.

Step 2: Open bean can.

Step 3: Heat beans.

Step 4: Put on Toast.

Step 5: Have gas.  

Exploring the City - and Getting Lost!

So what else is new....I have already gotten utterly lost! 

Getting lost in Dublin is actually quite difficult - I am very proud of myself for managing it.  Dublin is really a very small city.  Everything is concentrated in the City Center and Temple Bar area on the south side of the river Liffey.  I live just north of the river, but O'Connell Street (the main thoroughfare which attaches north to south) is only a five minute walk away.  It takes me about a half an hour to walk to the city center.  I have been spoiled by New York City - I never realized just how GIGANTIC New York was until I started travelling to other places.  Dublin is a great place, but as far as size goes, the only other rival to NYC that I have seen is London.

How did I get so lost, you ask?  This is what happens when you don't use a map and you just let your feet guide you.  I didn't want to look like a tourist so I took a quick look at my guide book before I left and then kept it in my bag.  I find that this is a great way to get to know a city, but you must be prepared to have no clue where you are going.  I started out on O'Connell:

O'Connell is full of shops and touristy things so I was not out of place snapping pictures. This monument is dedicated to leaders who helped separate Ireland from England.  The statue is Charles Stuart Parnell, a leader of the Revolution.  Across the street, is a gift shop and a post office (exactly what I think of when I think freedom).

Jane Eyre is playing in the theater near my apartment.  It's an actual theater, not a movie cinema.  I haven't gone to a play in years!  Charlotte Bronte isn't my favorite author, but it might be nice.

This huge Spire of Dublin is in the middle of the street.  It is lit at night like a beacon.  I have no idea why they wanted a huge needle sticking out, but it's helpful for me.  When I get lost, I just look for the light in the sky.  If I can't see it, then I am in trouble!

This park is dedicated to those who gave their lives in the 1916 Uprising against British rule. 

Finally, I reached my museum.  It only took about 45 minutes.  Hopefully, with practice, I can get it down to half an hour.  Now, I started to get in a spot of trouble. 

I was just deciding where to go next when I saw a guy disappear behind a wall.  The wall had statues in front and I thought that the wall was solid, but it was actually three parts with a walkway leading through it.  I followed the pathway and found myself inside St. Stephen's Green.  I don't know how I was so close to the biggest park in Dublin and I didn't know it, but that is what happened.  It is a lovely place to just sit and relax (and people watch!)

There was a man sitting on a park bench feeding the pidgeons.  It looked like something out a Hitchcock movie.  I have never seen so many pidgeons in one place at one time.  Some of them were actually climbing the man's arm to get to the food.  I sat for awhile, but decided to leave my park bench to avoid getting attacked.  I went out of the park at another entrance. 

I just started walking, taking in as much as I could. Only later did I realize that nothing looked familiar.  When fewer and fewer people start to surround you, and you find yourself alone on a street in the middle of an afternoon, you know that something is wrong.  I started heading north and I found running water.  I assumed it was the Liffey River and I figured that if I followed the water upstream, then I would eventually find O'Connell Street again.  Apparently, I need to work on my orienteering skills.  I finally asked a nice elderly lady if I was headed in the right direction and she gave me a worried look.  "Oh no dearie. You are very lost!" she said in her soft voice.  It is never a good sign when the locals are concerned about you.  She showed me the nearest bus stop and I let the driver do the work.  I had gone all the way up to Griffith College, near Pheonix Park, and it took 20 minutes on the bus to get back. 

I saw many new places and I'm glad for the adventure, but next time, I think I'll look like a tourist and take a map.