Group Reading of Ulysses

Some people have said that Ulysses is the greatest novel ever written.  I have never opened James Joyce's epic tome because it's so thick that you could mortar houses with it.  It's not exactly the kind of book you can cuddle up with at night in bed. 

I wanted to see what all the fuss is about. I heard though the grapevine about a group reading of Ulysses.  I figured that going to a group reading might be a great way to see the book in a new light.

Weeeeoooo. Weeeeooooo. Alert. Alert. 

The nerd alarm is going off. I know, I know.  But let me defend myself.

I had the opportunity to read a book in one of the places that is featured in the same novel.  How cool is that?  The same exact building stands intact from the first day it opened its mahogany doors in 1853.  It was a working pharmacy until 2009, but now, it is a bookshop and volunteers work to preserve its original ambiance - just as it was in Joyce's novel. 

http://www.sweny.ie/

(from Sweny's website)

Every Thursday evening at 7pm, the group gets together to do a read-aloud of the book.  The whole shop was about the same size as a New York studio apartment, but people packed in like sardines to share the story.  People joined together from all countries - Joyce's words were read in French, Italian, American, Danish, and Irish accents. 

Each person would take a turn reading a few pages and then the next person would take over.  Everyone else followed along with their own copy.  As my time to read drew closer, my heart started to beat faster.  Joyce is some difficult reading.  The words roll together in long drawn-out sentences, punctuation optional.  You are bound to stumble.  The sentences are structured like clunky blockades on an obstacle course.  My foot tapping grew more dramatic, uncontrollable even. 

My mind started wandering, "What if I make a fool of myself?  Oh my goodness, what are these words?  Why is Joyce sprinkling Italian onto the page?  It doesn't matter because I don't even understand the English.  What is going on?"  My inner dialogue was running away with itself. 

"Oh shoot!  Where are we?" 

I was concentrating so hard on getting prepared that I lost my place!  I snapped back and recovered just in time.

As I started reading, my voice steadied and the words flowed.  I keep hoping that every time I try public speaking, it will get easier....but I'm still waiting. 

I'm glad that I tried the read-along group, but I must admit that it did not change my opinion of James Joyce.

Some people have said that Ulysses is the greatest novel ever written.  I think that they must have been smoking something when they said that.

Life Lesson

Some people are content to just go to the pubs in the Temple Bar area and that's as far as they get.   They just go to the same pubs every night and this is their whole Dublin experience.  Partially, there are cultural differences involved - "We are laughing and talking here.  Why do we have to rush to go somewhere else?" 

There is a ring of truth to this.  We shouldn't forget to enjoy the present because we are too busy trying to get to the next thing.  I have been running myself ragged, working full time and then trying to squeeze as much as possible in on the weekends.  There is no way that I could keep up this pace on a regular basis because it is just too much (and probably the reason why I keep getting sick).  Sometimes I think that I am putting too much pressure on myself to do things.

HOWEVER....when I am in a foreign country and there are so many new things to see and do, then why would I spend all of my time watching tv or sitting in an apartment?  I could do that at home!  I want to experience all that Ireland has to offer.   

Every week has so full and rich.  I know that I have a deadline. I leave on April 9th and I don't know when - if ever - that I will be back.   I want to experience all that life here has to offer before I go.  I will always remember all of the new and incredible people and places.  

Everything has been making me think about the way I live my life normally.  Too often, I think I am content to just let life pass me by.  I can always do something else next week --- it's not a big deal if I just stay at home and stay comatose on the couch.  If I knew that I had a deadline, just like my deadline for leaving Ireland, then would I still choose to do the same things?  Maybe I should take a dash of the same urgency that I have here and bring it back with me. 

I need to balance doing nothing with doing everything. 

Holi Festival --- India in Ireland?

I was researching things to do in Dublin, and I stumbled upon an ad for a Holi Festival.  I put my thinking cap on, "Hmmm.....who would be crazy enough to come with me to an Indian festival in Ireland?"  MJ!! 

I have met many people here in Ireland, but the relationships are fleeting - they are company for an hour, a day, a week, but then I know that we will never meet again.  With MJ, however, I feel like I have met a kindred spirit and made a real friendship.  We are so similiar that it's starting to get a little frightening (today, we even responded to a question with the same exact answer at the same exact time....scary).  After I leave Ireland, I hope that we will stay in touch (she said that she would come out to the States for a visit and I am going to hold her to that promise!).

Holi is the Indian holiday celebrating colors.  There is a religious significance to many of the associated customs for the day, but I don't really know anything about it.  Hinduism is such a foreign belief system for me that I find it difficult to understand. 

MJ actually visited India for a month last year and worked with some nuns in a center for the sick and the dying (I told you she was an awesome person!).  She was familiar with some of the dances and we enjoyed watching the intricate moves.  Most of the day was filled with groups (mostly kids) performing Banghra, Classical, or other Indian dance styles.  There was also a "Fancy Dress" competition where the kids dressed up in costumes and judges voted for best design. 

MJ and I were staring more at the fashion of the adults though---we had to get a napkin to wipe the drool off our faces after admiring the saris.  Some of the women had the most gorgeous saris that I have ever seen!  The hand sewn patterns and beadwork was incredible.  The colors were dazzling. 

We ate dosas for lunch (a sort of Indian crepe with green mashed potato in the center and a variety of dipping sauces).  Some people were gawking at us slightly (we were only two of about eight non-Indians in the whole festival), but everyone was very warm and kind to us.  They were certainly very patient when they tried to explain the food (I was a bit lost when I first looked at the menu....I have heard nightmare stories about curry!).

Music....

And dancing....

and the night ended with holi....

The song Jai Ho (from Slumdog Millionaire) started playing and everyone just went crazy.  It was like the theme song for the night.  The powdered color was thrown into the air and everyone started "playing holi." 

Most people were very gentle and would just lightly touch you on the cheek.  One little girl kept stalking MJ---she would hit her with color and then run away giggling.  We would fake chase her which would cause her to giggle even more.  She was so cute!

The rest of the night was spent throwing the powdered paint at each other and dancing to Bollywood songs.

Me

MJ

I just got hit in the face...it tasted like chalk---gross!

We looked like a rainbow had just vomited on us. 

Unfortunately, no one told me how to take it off.  I went into the bathroom and started using water.  Surely, you use water.  But, why won't it come off?  The more I scrubbed, the more embedded it became.  The water only smeared the dye and caused it to turn into paint. 

MJ merely rubbed her face and she was completely clean again.  Her hair still had some color but it looked cool---like Gem, the rocker Barbie.  Meanwhile, I looked like I had just came out of the black lagoon!  My face was dyed for the night and I went home looking like a giant blueberry.   So not fair!

The train ride back to Dublin was interesting (Tallaght is about 40 minutes away on the Luas).   Obviously, we were the only people who had paint all over them, so we were bound to get some strange looks.  I complained to MJ, "I feel like I inhaled the powder.  I think it is burning my throat!"  When you look like a clown school dropout and you are talking about inhaling powder, people are bound to get the wrong idea.  I realized later that I probably should have chosen my words better --- people probably thought we were on drugs!

My shower that night never felt so good.

Culture and Craic

Maybe it was because I had been so excited about St. Patrick's Day for such a long time. Maybe it was because I had pumped it up in my mind so much that I had expectations which were too high.  Maybe it was because I was being unrealistic.

Or maybe it was because it just wasn't very good.

Every Irish person who I spoke with told me to prepare to be under-whelmed, and they were actually really right.  The parade and festival were definitely not as great as I thought they would be.

Whenever I travel, I try not to compare anything to home.  Nobody likes it when people say, "At home we did it this way," or "At home we do it that way."  However, that being said, I'm going to break my rule this once - The St. Patrick's Day parade in New York City is so much better the one in Dublin!  It was like a difference between professionals and amateurs. 

I started waiting by the fence early in the morning.   By 10:30am, Bree and I were already boxed in by a row of people behind us.  We couldn't leave even if we wanted to!  People thought that I was crazy since I was standing there for four hours, but if you want to see anything at all, then it's a wait you have to do. The parade was mostly filled with performers - there were no floats or balloons, so if you weren't standing right on the fence, then you wouldn't be able to see anything at all. 

The costumes were creative and colorful, but it looked like something that a college could have put together, rather than the world's center for St. Patrick's Day festivities.  Plus, the parade was based on Roddy Doyle's short story, "Brilliant," as a theme, but it made the parade seem confused.  Was it Halloween or St. Patrick's Day?

There was a mad crush of people pushing behind me shoving me into the fence. A little girl elbowed her way through and stood with her arms in my stomach the entire time.  It was ridiculous, but what was I going to do?  Push a little girl back out of the way?  I couldn't do that so I just put up with it.  Bree was shooting the girl daggers out of her eyes the entire time.   The only other time I've seen this many people on the streets was New Year's Eve.  Quite frankly, there were more people here than Dublin could handle.

The end of the parade was merely little kids riding their bicycles.  The bikes weren't even decorated.  They road by with a sign advertising their group "Family Cycling of Dublin" and that was it.  Was the parade over?  We waited around for another 10 minutes but the only other thing that came down the street was trash being blown by the wind.  The grand finale was not exactly grand.

Later that afternoon, I went to work and helped set up for a classical harp performance with a famous musician, Anne Marie O'Farrell.  The music was peaceful and beautiful - and a welcome rest from the madness outside the museum walls.   At night, I hung out with MJ and we chilled at her place.  Then, we went out to the docks which are about a half an hour walk from the city center.  We tried going to a restaurant on a boat, and we couldn't eat there because they were closed, but the boatmaster allowed us to walk around the ship for a little while anyways.  We just hung out at the prow and chatted while listening to the sound of the city floating to us over the wind.  It was a beautifully clear night and very serene on the boat.

Later, we went to a relatively quiet pub and listened to traditional music (trad music) and we even got to see some dancing.  A guy performed, which is actually quite rare since Irish dancing mostly attracts girls.  The guy looked like he came from Lord of the Rings - he was long and lanky with a mess of red hair curling around his ears.   It was a great night out and I'm so glad that we stayed away from the city center.  We walked past the Temple Bar area just to see it, and quite frankly, it was actually scary. 

Drunks were spilling out of the bars like vomit.  People were smashing bottles and broken glass littered the floor.  You had to jump and skip around the sidewalk to avoid the mess.  Everyone was either a tourist or a rowdy, young Dublin teenager.  Just like New Yorkers who stay away from Times Square on New Year's Eve, any adult Dubliner stays home on St. Patty's Day.  MJ and I made a quick getaway and actually went home early. 

I'm glad that I can say that I was here, but honestly, the holiday was not what it was cracked up to be.  Overall, I would say that Ireland is an amazing place to visit and I would recommend the whole country and Dublin City to everyone as a vacation spot --- except on St. Patrick's Day!  Celebrate at home instead!

By the way, "Craic" (pronounced "crack") is gaelic for "fun" - I wasn't doing drugs haha :-)

St Patty's Day Pics

I started the day bright and early watching the famous rowing races on the River Liffey.  The Colours Races (they add the extra -u just to be difficult) are held annually in a thrilling match between University College Dublin (UDC) and Trinity College.  Trinity was founded as the Protestant College and is the oldest educational institution in Ireland.  UCD was founded later in response as the Catholic College.  (Although now this is no longer an issue and everyone goes to either college....the only thing that will keep you out of school are your grades!)

Then I meandered over to St. Patrick's Cathedral.  I figured it was apropos being that it's his holiday and all.  At the cathedral, they handed out actual shamrocks to pin to your jacket.  By the end of the day, the shamrocks had all wilted away and I just had green stems clipped to my lapel, but it was nice while it lasted. 

There are a lot of myths and legends surrounding St. Patrick.  He was actually from England, and after being captured in a raid of the coast, he came over to Ireland as a slave when he was 16.  After six years, he escaped and studied for the priesthood in Rome, but he always felt called to return to Ireland and preach the Gospels. 

He supposedly drove all the snakes out of Ireland, but actually there were never any snakes here (it's actually the only place in the world where there are no reptiles!).  This story is mostly symbolic - the snakes represent paganism.   Most stories implicate that Ireland became Christian overnight, but in reality, it took more than St. Patrick's lifetime. 

In fact, his prostylitizing was much more difficult than is commonly recognized, and he converted most people by combining Celtic polytheism with Catholicism.  For example, the Celtic high crosses that you see in ruined monasteries all over Ireland are a mixture of the two religions - Christianity is demonstrated through the cross and the pagan respect for the sun is demonstrated through the circle behind it.  Many of our current holidays also combine the two cultures - Halloween is the most prominent example.

St. patrick is actually one of three patron saints of Ireland.  St. Brigid and St. Columba are also Ireland's national saints and equally as important in Christianizing Ireland; however, for some reason, their stories are not as well known. 

Anywho, I digress.  Everything is so steeped in history that I can't resist!  But enough about the past; here are some pictures of the parade.

I loved this little girl with her leprechaun beard!  She had the best seat in the house - on top of her dad's shoulders.

What you don't know is that her bottle is actually filled with whiskey.

Bree and I started waiting at 10am!  The parade started at 2:00pm.  I thought that the mini leprechaun hat was cute when I bought it, but now looking back at the pictures, I realize that it makes my head look gigantic!

The TV announcer was right next to us!  We were on O'Connell Street in the thick of the action.  We were probably on TV since the cameras kept panning the audience right in front of us.

crazy crowds!

Here comes St. Patrick....with sunglasses!?!?

The parade was divided by district.  Each county of Ireland was in charge of creating one part of the parade.  The theme of the parade was Roddy Doyle's short story "Brilliant" but I thought that ths was strange.  Most of the costumes looked like they were meant more for Halloween than for St. Patrick's Day.

I was right on the fence so the performers came right up to me and would pose for pictures.  One of the performers even kissed me on the cheek!

The performers would harrass the police (garda) but in a fun way.  This is one of my favorite pictures :-)

good music :-)

Then the aftermath....  it took me 45 minutes to get to work!  (Normally, it only take 10 minutes from this spot.)  The massive throngs of people were crazy!!

Powerscourt Gardens

I woke up and the sun was shining, the clouds were dispersing, and you could see blue sky above your head.  What a glorious day!  I decided to take advantage of my good fortune with the weather.  Why stay in the city?  I needed to get away for some fresh air, so I took a public bus out to the Wicklow Mountains today and visited Powerscourt Gardens.

After an hour, you reach Eniskerry, a sleepy village nestled at the heart of the mountains.  Taking public transport to a place so far away is a little intimidating ---I am always worried that I will be stranded somewhere.  However, every time I do it, it get's easier. After I got off at the last stop, the bus drivier gave me walking directions to get to the gardens---walk uphill for about 20 minutes (and I mean literally Up Hill). 

There was a girl who looked as confused as I was about the directions so I started chatting with her.  Eva Marie, a girl visiting from Germany, wound up spending the day with me walking around the gardens.  The scenery was breathtaking.  When we walked around the back of the main building and first glimpsed the view from the top, Eva and I literally both sighed at the same time. 

The weather held for the entire day---and it was even the first time that I actually took off my jacket!  Daffodils were beginning to blossom and there were bright splashes of colors from buds on a couple of trees, as though an artist had spilled paintdrops from the sky.  The air was invigorating, a crisp chill which felt wonderfully refreshing.  It was so nice to hear birds chirping instead of cars honking!  I think that Spring is finally in the air---at least for today.

We spent the day walking on the various pathways and then we had scones and tea in the outdoor cafe.

I wanted to stay longer, but Eva needed to head back to the city---I didn't want to ditch her at the very end so I went back with her.  I think that I'm going to have to return on another day though.  It's a perfect place to just sit under a tree and read a good book.

We stumbled upon a weird photo shoot.  The girl had some crazy make-up on.  The photographer kept saying, "yes, yes!  Perfect! Perfect!"  She sounded like such a stereotypical photographer---Eva Maria and I were cracking up trying to imitate her for the rest of the afternoon.

I probably won't post again until next week because the rest of the week is going to be mad busy with St. Patrick's Day this Thursday.  When I talk to my Irish coworkers about it, they merely shrug.  They say that I should prepare to be underwhelmed.  I'm excited about it nonethless.  To be in Ireland on St.Patrick's Day---how amazing!

kisses

I loved the time that I spent with Betta, and I am loving the time I am currently spending with Veronica, but my two roommates are polar opposites. 

Betta would be in her pajamas by 8:00pm and I couldn't get her to do anything no matter how hard I begged.  She was disinterested in taking tours during the day and she definitely did not want to go anywhere after dark.  She was a sweetheart, but more of a stay-at-home person.  She rarely left the apartment, except to go to work.

"Betta, come on!  It's Friday night.  We should be out dancing!"

"No!  It's too dangerous and too expensive."

Meanwhile, Veronica is never in the apartment, except to sleep.  She has such a vibrant personality and wants to do something in the city center every night.  I think that she has spent more time in pubs than in the apartment.  I have to beg her to stay home! 

"Veronica, I'm really tired after work.  I just want to go to bed tonight." 

"No!  You are only in Dublin once!  You can sleep when you are home, but in Dublin, we go out."

---I definitely need a balance!  Betta and Veronica are both wonderful friends who are amazingly sweet and friendly individuals...but they couldn't be more different.

I have been hanging out out a few nights a week with Veronica's language school friends.  The whole European kiss-on-the-cheek custom is getting very complicated.  To greet people, Germans and Austrians seem to side kiss only once, French and Italians do it twice, and the Swiss go for three!  ("Leave it to the Swiss---always wanting more.") 

Then, there is the matter of which side to go for first...many times, I awkwardly move to the same direction as the other person, but by the time you realize it, you are already half an inch from their face.  Then, you have to back up and go for the other side, but they are doing the same thing, and you wind up doing a cheek-to-cheek dance.

Saying hello is exhausting!

"How many kisses in America?" someone asked me.  "None!" I replied. 

Some guys could get in trouble for doing this sort of thing back home! 

On Friday nights, everyone enjoys going to Fitzsimons---a four story dance place at the end of the Temple Bar area.  Each level plays a different type of music: blaring techno with disco lights in the basement, acoustic guitar and soulful singing on the main level, pop music to get your eighties groove on in the middle, and an open air rooftop (which is set up mostly for smokers, but on a clear night, it is still wonderful). 

Recently, I've learned that, when a guy from Rome asks you to dance, then you should expect your personal space to be a little invaded.  And, when I say "a little,"  I mean A LOT.  Talk about getting to know someone---yowza!

We were in quite a close dance embrace to begin with, but then he started to nuzzle my neck.

"Okay, that's odd," I think to myself.

But I'm a little slow.  It took me a while to figure out what was going on. 

He starts to slowly move upwards towards my jawline.  Meanwhile, I am stretching my neck further away and squirming like an awkward turtle sticking its head out of its shell.  But, unless I was going to grow some extra vertebrae soon, these attempts were quickly going to become futile. 

I look to Claudia, my Swiss friend dancing next to me, and shoot her a plaintive distress signal, but she remains decidedly neutral.
Before he reaches my lips, I try to pull away.  "Oh Hey, Wow, would you look at the time.  You know I forgot that I have this pressing engagement to get to...so yeeeaahh, I'm gonna have to be going now. Catch ya later."
As you can tell, the adjective "suave" does not apply to me at all. 

I have been here for two months and I have barely met any guys, let alone a guy that I like enough to date.  Veronica has been here for two weeks, and she already has a boyfriend.  It must be something in the Italian blood (which was definitely not passed on in my genes haha).  But if guys are going to act like this, then I would rather be single!

Happy Pancake Tuesday!

Instead of Fat Tuesday, this day is formally known as Shrove Tuesday here...but informally the day is PANCAKE TUESDAY!  How excitingly delicious :-) 

The tradition is tied with the Lent season.  Families would try to get rid of all of their dairy and sugar products before they gave them up for forty days.  In so doing, they would celebrate by having pancakes for dinner. 

I discovered, however, that Irish pancakes are different than American ones.  In actuality, they really mean a crepe.  The tradition includes having contests to see who can flip the crepe the highest and with the most rotations.  Many towns in Ireland and the UK also hold community pancake races.  Moms and kids line up for a relay race armed with frying pans.  They run as fast as they can while flipping crepes.  Rather than landing back in the pan, the crepes often fly all over the place.  They even held a couple of races in St. Stephen's Green today and people were lined up around the corner to eat their obligatory pancake.

The Irish pre-Lenten celebration is much less decadent than the New Orleans Mardi Gras or the Venetian Mask Party (which was explained to me by Veronica), but the tradition is also more family-oriented.  It is very sweet in its simplicity (and it is DELICIOUS!!!)