Sunday, July 8, 2007

Ireland

July 6, 2007 -- Derry to Belfast -- Day 7 of tour
As we were leaving Derry this morning, Karen put some U2 on the CD player. When the song "Sunday Bloody Sunday" came on (we were all singing along of course) it had so much more meaning. I had known a bit about the protest before, but it was so cool to have heard the full story and to now be listening to the song in the city where it all happened.

"I can't believe the news today
Oh, I can't close my eyes
And make it go away
How long...
How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long...
'cause tonight...we can be as one
Tonight...

Broken bottles under children's feet
Bodies strewn across the dead end street
But I won't heed the battle call
It puts my back up
Puts my back up against the wall

Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday

And the battle's just begun
There's many lost, but tell me who has won
The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters
Torn apart

Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday

How long...
How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long...
'cause tonight...we can be as one
Tonight...tonight...

Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Wipe the tears from your eyes
Wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your tears away
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
Oh, wipe your blood shot eyes
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)

Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)
Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)

And it's true we are immune
When fact is fiction and TV reality
And today the millions cry
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die

(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)

The real battle just begun
To claim the victory Jesus won
On...

Sunday Bloody Sunday
Sunday Bloody Sunday..."

Leaving Derry, we went to the coast and pointed north toward Giant's Causeway. On the way we stopped at a castle. Giant's Causeway was cool, and we got the full Irish legend behind it as well.
Tonight was our last night on the tour, though many of us are planning on meeting up back in Dublin. We all went out to the pub, where there was a cover "band," if you could call it a band. Really, it was a guy on a mic and his guitarist, who used horribly cheesy synth effects on his guitar. At one point, I looked over and saw a couple decked out in full Western gear. I just HAD to get a picture with them because they were so out of place. I walked over and asked them for a picture, to which the woman replied "Why?!?" I had to think quickly. I flashed a huge grin, then stammered, "I-I'm just so excited to see cowboy hats in Ireland!" Turns out they were English. I have no clue why they were dressed up, but I got the picture!
After leaving the pub (The Beaten Docket, or the Dock & Beaters, or maybe it was the Beaten Duck?) we went a couple doors down to Robinson's, where there was a dance club upstairs. I was having a good time because I was with friends and the dance music wasn't terrible, but clubs are just not my thing. Okay, by that I really mean that being squished shoulder-to-shoulder in a pulsating crowd and having every fiber of my being electrified with the thumping house music while watching people try to dance is my own personal hell.
On a lighter note, we did see a pretty gnarly fight; some guy was harrassing a girl when her boyfriend started swinging. At that point, the girl jumped in and broke a bottle over the offender's head. This resulted in a gushing head wound and an instant migration on my part out of the club. Karen was right when she said the Irish women are more vicious fighters than the men!








July 5, 2007 -- Donegall to Derry -- Day 6 of tour
Today we went to Derry, our first stop in Northern Ireland. On the way, we stopped in a couple scenic areas. One of them was a short hike through a boggy field to see a dolman, or passage grave. There are hundreds all over the country and they're mass graves with table stones on top. After that we stopped at a gorgeous beach. It had white sand and clear icy blue water. I waded in and the water was about 45 degrees. Any thoughts I'd had of going for a swim quickly dissolved. Later, we stopped in a small village for lunch and I found the Donegall Tweed Factory, where I got to watch a guy making tweed on a huge loom. I told him my grandma has been weaving for many years and he was so excited to hear it!
When we got to Derry, we quickly dropped off our things and met up with the guide for our walking tour of the city. Our guide, Martin, has lived in Derry his entire life and has experienced the political unrest firsthand. Derry was the city in January of 1972 where Bloody Sunday occurred; thirteen protesters were shot dead by the military. Since then, Derry has turned around and there have been several meetings and peace discussions to keep violence out of the city. It was eerie to walk through a neighborhood that was being bombed and shot at less than ten years ago. There were murals along one street, Bog View, (that was once considered the most violent neighborhood in the world) depicting scenes taken straight from news footage of Bloody Sunday. One of the people killed was actually a cousin of Judy, a Canadian woman on the tour. She never knew him, but she said she remembers watching the footage on TV with her mom and grandma. When we were walking away from the memorial, I saw the most random thing: an NYPD-themed limo! Karen had told us about the numerous bachelorette parties ("hen do's") here--the ratio of women to men is 7:1--and how the girls like to go all out and get tacky limos to cart them around town.
After the walking tour, we were all quite hungry, so we went to the local Witherspoon's (an English chain known for good, cheap food). It happened to be "Curry Club Thursday" and the curry was delicious.






July 4, 2007 -- Inish Moir to Donegall -- Day 5 of tour
We woke up early this morning for a rough ferry ride back to the mainland. From the port, we drove to Donegall, making stops along the way. We saw the beautiful Black Lake valley, the Famine Memorial (a sculpture of a ghost ship with skeletons all over it), and a nice little church where we played a game of soccer (sorry, football) in the parking lot. When we arrived in Donegall we went outside of town to our hostel, a very cool old farmhouse in the country. A 20-minute walk took us down the hill to a gorgeous sandy beach. We drew in the sand and took a bunch of silly pictures. By the time we got back we were all ready for dinner. Karen had arranged a taxi to take us into town to a homey restaurant with simple, hearty food. I got chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, and vegetables, which really hit the spot. After dinner, we went to a pub to listen to music. A local artist named Eunan MacIntyre was playing with his band--his own music was folky, traditional stuff, but he did several covers: the Pogues, Johnny Cash, even "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show (an awesome bluegrass band from the States that I didn't even realize anyone over here knew about!!) The mood in the pub was great all night--everyone was singing along, Heather (Canada)and Steve even got up and struggled through a couple songs.









July 3, 2007 -- Galway to Inish Moir -- Day 4 of tour
We got going a little later this morning, which was nice. We took a ferry to Inish Moir, one of the Aran Islands. The ferry there was fun and the sun was out for most of the day. We all rented bikes to explore the island. I went with Texas Amanda and MaryEllen. When we were passing the marina, the tide was so low that all the boats were sitting on the sand and pitched at weird angles. "Oh, my boat is beached!" cried Texas. We had no idea what she was talking about for a minute and I thought it was some odd metaphor. "Well I'll beach your boat!" I replied. It went on from there and turned into us developing a new insult.
Shortly into our bike ride we passed a tractor in someone's driveway. (I should mention here that our guide, Karen, has told us that nearly everyone outside of the cities in Ireland owns and/or drives a tractor. She even plays Kenny Chesney's "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy," one of the most annoying country songs EVER, for us every morning.) We all got lovely pin-up poses with the tractor. After the impromptu photo-shoot, we rode out to the southern edge of the island, past a beautiful windswept cemetery. It was overgrown with dune grasses; the rain-worn Irish crosses sprouted out of the ground like stone tree trunks.
By the time we got back into town we were completely destroyed by the wind and ready to be inside for a break. Just a few seconds after we stepped inside the hostel and started eating lunch, the unforgiving Irish skies opened and took a great piss on the island. We looked outside at our dripping bike seats and decided to for-go the rest of our ride.
During a brief break from the rain, I went to the Aran Sweater Market and bought a snuggly gray lambswool crocheted scarf. (I ended up wearing it every day for the rest of the tour; it's so warm!)
The hostel had a tiny, but warm and comfy, common room and lots of DVDs. When it started raining again, several of us holed up in there and spent the rest of the evening out of the driving wind and rain.






July 2, 2007 -- Dingle to Galway -- Day 3 of tour
Today we took a ferry from Dingle across the way to Galway County. On the way to Galway from the port, we stopped in several places along the coast. First were the Cliffs of Moher, impressive vertical rock faces disappearing into the frothy blue depths some 200 feet below. The view was nice, but it was bitterly cold and drizzly. While we were waiting to get back on the bus, Steve (one of the Canadians) bought a tin whistle/recorder type instrument and sat down on a bench to start playing it. Unfortunately, he had no clue how to play it and the only tones it produced were shrill, erratic notes. We gathered around and started clapping to give him some sort of rhythm, and Mike (another Canadian) put his hat down with some change in it as a joke. Steve looked like some poor guy who has reverted to begging for money so he'll stop playing and making wretched noises. Everyone walking by had looks of shocked horror on their faces as they heard the harsh sounds of the whistle. One of them even put money in the hat, then leaned down to Steve and said, "Don't quit your day job!" We all cheered and I said, "Thank you sir, now Scuba Steve can eat tonight!" We were all nearly doubled over from laughter.
Back on the bus, we drove through the Burren, an area severely affected by deforestation. With no trees or shrubs to keep the dirt there, the wind and rain have worn the land down to a smooth rocky wasteland, an empty terrain that would look perfect in an old sci-fi movie. After that, we stopped at a beach but it was so cold that no one stayed outside for long.
Thoroughly chilled, I was happy to step into the cozy hostel in Galway a short time later. I think I might be getting sick again, because I've been tired all day. When everyone had rested for a bit we walked up to a pub and caught some local music. It was two guys with guitars doing some folky stuff. Not bad, but not good enough to stay for the whole set.





July 1, 2007 -- Killarney to Dingle -- Day 2 of tour
We started out this morning at Killarney National Park, where we walked up to the Torc Waterfall. It was running full force, but the water was a weird clear brown color. Suddenly somebody yelled, "My god, the stream is full of Guinness!" And that's how we decided that all the creeks and rivers in Ireland run rich with the country's favorite stout. Next we visited Muckross House, a beautiful old estate by the lake. Everyone was goofing off and taking silly pictures; I later discovered this was the theme for the trip. After that, we drove to a small town called Dingle and visited the surrounding peninsula. There were beautiful cliffs, rocky like the coastline back home. We walked out to the most Western edge of Ireland, where we sat and listened to Karen tell us a legend about Tiernan Oge, the land of eternal youth.
At our supermarket stop, I was thinking about how nice it would be if I could make tacos for dinner. To my amazement, I found everything I needed--beans, tortillas, salsa, ground beef, etc. The hostel we're staying in tonight is over 300 years old and was used as a soup kitchen during the famine years. It stands majestically overlooking the rolling moors outside of town. There is a common room and a TV room, both filled with comfy couches and a fireplace. In the afternoon, before starting dinner, I sat briefly on the couch in front of the gently crackling fire and looked out through the rain-splattered window to the misty, windswept green hills. I felt like I was in a movie. There is a somber solitude to the moors; I felt alone looking at those forlorn knolls but not lonely in the least bit. They have a comforting vastness to them. It would be wonderful to stay for a week or so in that creaking old house with freshly painted vaulted ceilings. I took a deep breath and blinked slowly as I shook off the daydreams and returned to the TV room that was starting to buzz with activity. After dinner, we were all gathered in the TV room watching a movie when someone suggested card games, then someone else realized we really needed music. I came to the rescue with the wonderful laptop, of course. As we were laughing, playing games, and taking stupid pictures, I felt just like I was at a house party. It was nice to feel at home for once, really for the first time on this trip. Throughout this tour, we've been working on our Irish accents and tonight we were all getting a bit rowdy. Every five minutes someone would cry out in their best Irish tongue, "Jesus Mary and Joseph!" or later in the evening, "For Saint Patrick's sake!" or my favorite, "Oh, Jesus O'Brien!" I laughed so hard my stomach is still sore.









June 30, 2007 -- Dublin to Killarney -- Day 1 of tour
After a few hours' sleep, I woke up early to get ready for the Shamrocker tour, which started today. I didn't have time to get anything for breakfast, so I missed Tom (who I'm sure was still sleeping anyway). Within a few minutes of getting on the bus, the 28 of us, our guide Karen, and our driver Gerry were chuckling and cracking jokes. Karen made us all go around for introductions. Before I went up, a girl named Amanda from Texas introduced herself. Oddly, she was wearing sunglasses inside the bus. Upon closer inspection, she was wearing my exact same sunglasses! When it was my turn, I said "Hi, I'm Amanda from San Francisco, and I think Texas Amanda and I have the same sunglasses?" I put mine on and looked at her. She gasped and started laughing. "From Target, yeah?" I said. "Haha, yeah, how funny!" she replied. With a straight face, I said, "but if you lose yours, you'd better not steal mine, bitch!" Everyone cracked up. It was all jokes, stories, and historical legends from that point on. First stop was the Rock of Cashel, a castle fortress high on a hill. Nothing terribly remarkable, but the views were nice.


Next we went to Blarney Castle, home of the famous Blarney Stone (legend says if you kiss it, you will get the "gift of the gab"). The castle was pretty and the grounds were gorgeous. And no, I didn't get my face anywhere near the dirty Blarney Stone that's felt the kisses of millions of people.


After that, we drove to Killarney and checked into our hostel. After a bit of much-needed chill time, we all went to dinner. It was hearty food and perfect for the drizzly cold weather. When we'd all finished dinner, we walked over to O'Connor's pub for some story-telling. This one guy played four different parts in the story about a bartender, and old man dying, and plenty of silly jokes. It was cool. When it was over most of the group stayed in the pub, but I was exhausted so went back to the hostel and went to sleep.

June 29, 2007 - Dublin
I got up at a reasonable hour this morning for breakfast, and who should I see in the kitchen but the lovely Tom! We ate breakfast with a couple Dutch girls, then Denise from Mexico City joined us. I was hoping to have someone to hang out with today, so Tom and Denise and I went walking around the city. Tom is from Brighton, and is studying Physics in Cardiff, Wales. He wanted to do something fun for the summer, so he's out here in Dublin trying to find a job for a couple months. He's kind of nerdy, but a cool dude. With his glasses and slightly wavy hair, he could play the Hugh Grant part in some terribly sappy British romantic comedy; the way he kind inhales, then exhales a cultured English accent, saying something like "Sweeeet...right then!" is absolutely adorable.
So out we went, Denise and the lovely Tom and I. We strolled along the river, down a shopping promenade, and into St. Stephen's Green. It's a large park in the center of the city packed with trees, hedges, two lakes, and a neatly manicured central garden. Upon our first few steps in the park we saw a sign for free live music. It just so happened that today's act was a pair of Irishmen doing Americana/Appalachian folk music. It wasn't until 1pm, so Denise and I decided to visit the National Museum (it's free!) and Tom went to pass out resumes to pubs and restaurants.
At the museum, Denise and I saw all sorts of Ireland's treasures and artifacts. There were ornately detailed silver crosses, a beautiful silver drum, gold jewelry, textiles from the 16th century, and the coolest thing of all--bog bodies! There were four bodies in all, their skin leathery black from centuries of sitting in the peat bogs, but still so well-preserved. One of them had a full head of hair and another had perfectly intact fingernails. Many of the bog bodies were victims of ritual sacrifice, often to celebrate a new king, and were violently murdered before being wrapped up and surrendered to the depths.
At 1:00 Denise and I met Tom at the bandstand in the park for the free concert. After a meteorologically indecisive morning and a couple of short showers, the sun came out! We all sprawled out on the slightly soggy grass and watched to duo, who were quite good. They had a sound very much like Doc Watson, or Bill Monroe. It was such a treat to hear some good simple American music (even if it was a couple of Irishmen!) but they could have use a thumping upright bass to ground their guitar and banjo.
As we were enjoying the music, a bit of paper blew into my lap. I noticed some writing on it which said this: "If I were the only fish, would you come and find me?"
I immediately looked around for any cute guys, because it sure sounded like some sort of secret admirer weird pick-up line, but I didn't see any. Tom and I decided to add to it. Underneath the first line, we wrote "If I were a fisherman, I'd come and gut you clean." At this point I was shaking with silent laughter. Just then, this dodgy-looking old guy walked up and said, "Hey, I wasn't done with that! The wind took it away." Bewildered, we handed it back to him and he gave us a disgusted look as he read our addition. "Ya ruint it!" he cried. Later, when the band was just ending their set, he walked by again and dropped the paper in front of us. He'd written more, this time a weird poem about meeting leprechauns. I have no idea what he meant by it. We looked over at him, and he was lying on the ground wrapped in an Irish flag.
We left the park then, and slowly wound our way back to the hostel. I chilled out on the computer and read for a bit. Denise and I walked down to the supermarket to get food for dinner, which was amazing. They had excellent produce, delicious homemade hearty wheat bread, frozen meals, deli counter, even tofu. In Ireland, tofu! I was overjoyed at the selection. I bought some noodles, chicken and veggies for stir-fry. When I started cooking everything later, I realized I had way too much food on my hands. As I was about to offer the excess up to the dining room, Gray and Drew came into the kitchen. I asked them if they wanted the rest of my stir-fry. They were so happy that they even offered to do my dishes. Not a bad deal!

Later on, a group of us from the hostel went out to Temple Bar to a few pubs. The nightlife here is great; most of the streets in Temple bar are pedestrian-only and filled with drunken bar-goers stumbling, laughing and yelling. One of the pubs we went into was packed with people. It was hard work to shoulder through the crowd to get to the bar and getting back to the toilets was nearly impossible. On one trip, I was trying to politely squeeze through the wall of people when I passed a group of middle-aged women. "Excuse me!" I yelled, though it was barely audible over the music and talking, and pushed around the side of the group. Obviously one of the women has no comprehension of the logistics of working through a crowd; she was ridiculously offended that I had to pass by her. "Ach, fer Godssakes! Ya stewpid c**t!" she yelled. I was appalled. That word is not nearly as insulting here as it is back home, but what she said was extremely rude no matter what country you're in. Instead of ignoring her, I decided to play a little game and make her feel bad for being so rude. In my sweetest tone of voice, I smiled, put my hand on her shoulder, and said, "I love your dress. It's very pretty!" In her shocked face, I saw something soften, then she beamed at me. I turned away, and thought, I win, bitch! I didn't see her again for the rest of the night.
We moved around the neighborhood, from one packed bar to another. Finally, we all headed home sometime after two. I said goodnight to Tom and we planned to meet for breakfast in the morning. When he hugged me goodnight, it wasn't a "I just met you and I'm giving you a polite hug because it's the thing to do" type hug, nor was it anywhere close to the "I'm drunk and I just want to have contact with you" hug. It was a sweet real hug, the kind where you don't feel the need to awkwardly separate a split-second later. "Right then...see you tomorrow," he grinned.

June 28, 2007 - Paris to Dublin
I woke up at a ridiculous hour this morning for my flight to Dublin. Just to be sure, I allotted plenty of extra time to get to the airport, because there was no way I was going to have a repeat of the BCN-Casablanca lost baggage situation! I napped a bit on the flight, but I was still tired. When I got off the plane, a light rain had just started. No problem, I thought. I can deal with a little rain. This is Ireland, after all. I got to the main bus station with no problems, but from there I couldn't figure out the bus system, so I ended up walking about a mile or so to my hostel. With my bag. In the rain. It was too hard to roll my bag, hold my purse on my shoulder, and occasionally hitch my pants up (if you know me well, you know that my pants are always falling down and I often "sell crack," so to say.), and hold my umbrella, so I put the umbrella away in order to have a free hand. By the time I got to my hostel, I looked like a drowned rat.
The hostel is cool though. It's across the street from a church, right in the heart of the Temple Bar area, in this huge old Victorian building. There's a large dining room and kitchen downstairs and a cozy living room with large windows, couches, and Persian rugs on the first floor. (Side note: in Europe and Britain, you have the ground floor, then the first floor, then second and so on. The first floor here is what we think of as the second floor. Just FYI.) After being out in the rain, all I wanted to do was sink into one of those couches. I curled up with On the Road and read for a bit, watching the rain pour down the square-pane windows.
The weird thing about Ireland is this: it will rain for about 20 minutes, then stop. The sun might come out, then it'll start pouring for ten minutes, then it'll be cloudy for the rest of the day. The weather here is very...moody, I guess. It is nice though, that when I see rain I know it'll be gone in about an hour and I'll see some sunshine. A good tip: always carry and umbrella. After I had dried out, so did the clouds and the sun peeked through. I walked down the street to Leo Burdock's Fish & Chips, supposedly the best in the city. I must say, it was pretty good. The portions were huge though--one order could feed two or three people!
Later in the evening, I was downstairs on my laptop, half-listening to a group of guys chatting behind me. I heard them talk about going to get a pint and decided to be bold and invite myself. I feel that in hostels it's alright to be a little forward and push yourself into social situations you normally wouldn't. They were friendly and happy to make a new acquaintance. Introductions were made, small talk, etc. The first guy was Tom, from Brighton, England, the second was Harry, and the third was Tyler. "Aw," I said, "I was hoping for Dick." Upon seeing his confused face, I quickly realized the connotations of what had just slipped out of my mouth and I stammered, "Uuhhhmm...you know...Tom, Dick, and Harry?" I blushed terribly then, but they understood what I was going for and we all laughed it off. When the rest of the group came downstairs there was John, Shani, and another guy whose name I don't remember. Shani is from Israel and is traveling by herself as well. Just then, two other guys popped their heads out of the kitchen and said, "Does anyone here know how to bake chicken?"
"I do," I replied. "Just do about 20 minutes per pound at 350 degrees."
"Yeah...the oven is in Celsius," the guy said. I went into the kitchen and helped the guys, Gray and Drew, figure it out. After that was sorted, I rejoined the other group of guys and we walked down the street to the nearest pub for a drink. The guys were hilarious! Sadly, everyone except Tom and Shani will be leaving tomorrow. After the pub, most everyone went to sleep. Tom, John, Shani and I sat in the dining room talking and drinking wine. Yes, me--drinking red wine! It was actually pretty good.
I've decided to do an 8-day tour around Ireland with a company called Shamrocker that leaves on Saturday morning. It turns out Shani is doing the same one! I'm looking forward to it very much.

No comments: