July 7, 2007 -- Belfast to Dublin -- Day 8 of tour
Sadly, today was our last day of the tour. We got going early on a "Black Cab Tour" of Belfast, where a few cabbies drove us around to important parts of the city, got out, and told us about the history of Belfast and its civil unrest. We first went to the Protestant neighborhood and walked around looking at murals. One of them was commemorating a UFF/UDA soldier who had fought for his side but was killed. I think his name was Steve McKeag. We made our way around the city and came to a large concrete wall, about twenty feet tall with another twenty feet of mesh fencing on top of that. It divides the Catholic and Protestant parts of the city; they sadly call it a "Peace Wall," as if the only thing keeping Belfast peaceful is a division of its warring factions. There was graffiti all over it, from huge murals to tiny messages of hope for peace from travelers all over the world. Judy, the woman in my group whose cousin was killed on Bloody Sunday, grimly said, "How can there ever be peace if we keep building walls?" I was moved by the brevity and accuracy of her observation. It is really amazing to be in a place that has so recently been ravaged by the shredding teeth of battle. The city is gingerly removing its bandages and revealing the shiny pink scarred skin underneath, wanting to feel safe to move forward but there is still a fear of upheaval in the air. I hope that one day, the "Peace Wall," will come down and the people can come together as one Ireland. At the end of the tour, we came to another set of murals. These were newer and many of them were protesting the occupation in the Middle East. There was a wonderful one of Dubya, sucking oil out of a straw in a battle field; underneath it read, "America's Greatest Failure."
When we got back to Dublin, we all decided to meet up later in the evening. I went back to Leo Burdock's for fish and chips; this time I got a smaller order of "fish nuggets," which sounds disgusting, but they were chunks of smoked cod, battered and fried, and they were delicious. I was nearly finished chowing down under the shelter of the somber stone walls of Christchurch Cathedral when the groundskeeper had to close the gates. Thanking him, I went across the street to the Bull & Castle pub and found everyone crammed into booths upstairs. The pub even had hefe-weissen! I got a weird look from the bartender when I asked for a bit of lemon; he must not know the joys of hefe and lemon on a summer evening. We all stayed until 1am or so, taking goofy pictures and talking about future travel plans. Texas Amanda and I got a couple of really terrible pictures together too.
July 8, 2007 -- Dublin
I slept in this morning for the first time in over a week. It was so nice. I went out walking around the shopping area and found a chic replacement for my sad canvas sad I've been toting around. It started out cute, but got so bleached by the sun it had turned a pukey shade of copper and looked suitable for a homeless person's wardrobe. I guess I am kind of homeless right now, but I don't need to look like it! After transferring my belongings and giving my old purse a new home in the trash, I went to St. Stephen's Green to read for a bit before meeting up with Tom. It started raining; I opened my umbrella and continued reading. There was a time when I would have run inside at the first few drops, but Ireland has instilled in me a permanent optimism concerning the weather. About 40 minutes later, the sun was out again. Typical Irish weather!
Tom came strolling up with Jermain, a crazy French guy who barely understands English. This makes for funny situations, because we'd say something to him, he'll nod, then do the exact opposite. We did some window shopping and sat in the pub for a bit, then it was time to meet the girls for dinner. I said goodbye to Tom and Jermain and went back to the Bull & Castle, where Nikki and Stacey (Australia) showed up soon after. As we were chatting, a guy broke into our conversation on three different occasions to tell me how awesome my tattoos are. Finally I just said, "Yeah, thanks, I know!" and smiled. Then he asked us if we were coming in for a pint and I replied, "Sure...maybe later?" with no intention of following him inside. When the other girls arrived we walked across the street to a quiet restaurant for dinner. The food was hearty and delicious. By the time we were done, we were all so tired we had no energy to go out. We said goodbye one last time and wished each other safe travels. It really was a good group of people and they made my Ireland experience wonderful.
July 9, 2007 -- Dublin to Newcastle
Oh, this morning was hellish. I had a 6:30 flight from Dublin to Newcastle, England, which meant I had to take a taxi to the airport at 4:30 because the buses don't run that early. After about four hours' sleep I was exhausted and was alseep by the time the plane took off. Next thing I heard was the pilot informing us we'd be landing in ten minutes. In a daze, I gathered my luggage, rode the metro into town, and checked into my hostel. By about 8:30 I crawled into bed and passed out. I had a relaxing afternoon; bought some groceries, chilled on the couch, read a bit. By the early evening I had regained some energy and was perusing through "The Crack," Newcastle's music and events magazine. My eyes bugged when I saw that the Brian Jonestown Massacre was playing a show, and right around the corner too! They're a San Francisco band with a fabulous mixture of early 60s rock, experimental post-punk, and the gigantic ego of their completely insane singer. I didn't even know they were still together. At first I thought, No, I don't want to go to a show alone, mopey-mope-mope boo-hoo. But then Traveler Amanda slapped Regular Amanda in the face and yelled, "Wake up, ya dumb ho! It's the Brian Jonestown Massacre, you have to go!" So I did, and it was wonderful. Bright, shining faces in the crowd illuminated the dark room with the anticipation of seeing something legendary. The tambourine player stood in front with his nose in the air and a sarcastic expression of bored condescendence on his face. It reminded me of old Patient Zero days when we were 17 and too good for the world. When I returned from the show I realized I hadn't eaten so I made some soup. Some people were playing cards in the TV room and they invited me in. Around the table was Andy (Melbourne), Wayne (from somewhere in England. His accent was so thick I couldn't understand a word he said), Kelly (England), Raisa (Canada) and Aida (Spain). We played cards for a bit then everyone slowly went to bed.
July 10, 2007 -- Newcastle
I slept in today! It was so nice. When I finally got up, I went to see the Angel of the North, a huge sculpture on the outskirts of town. It is very futuristic but has a quiet sophistication in its streamlined design. There wasn't much else to do in the area so I waited for a bus back into town. Newcastle is alive, but somber; modern glass and steel sculptures and high-rises blossom against the protests of the sleepy dirt-brown stone buildings that formed the city hundreds of years ago. In the evening, a group of us at the hostel played a bit of pool in the cellar. I brought my laptop, which acted as stereo system.
July 11, 2007 -- Newcastle to Edinburgh
I was so happy to finally be heading to Edinburgh today! The past couple days, though relaxing, were a little boring. I wasn't terribly motivated to do much sight-seeing as a combination of being tired, exhausted from traveling for so long, and looking forward to the Scotland tour. I'll be seeing plenty in the next week to make up for my sluggishness in Newcastle.
As soon as I settled into my seat on the bus, I turned on my iPod and zoned out, absorbing the scenery and meditating. I looked out the window some time later to see the sun was beaming down on train racing parallel to the roadway and beyond that were endless green acres of shimmering soft grains. The entirety of the field ruffled and shivered as though it was just a small section of silky fur on the back of a great gentle beast, snoring serenely in its nest between the distant craggy mountains past the fields to the left and the blustering expanse of ocean to the right. While my eyes lost focus on the mass of silvery-green, the importance that I was visiting the place of my ancestors finally sunk in. Something about discovering it alone and for the first time made it seem so very profound; I know who I am and I know where I came from, but seeing these ancient homelands forged all those pieces together. The homesick loneliness in the pit of my stomach that had been gnawing at me for several days now subsided, and I dreamed about the great dark sparkling seas out the other window.
Edinburgh was no less beautifully poetic than the revelations that bombarded me upon stepping off the bus and onto the cobblestones. On the old side of town, all the buildings are dark, heavy Neo-Gothic monoliths, looming over the bustling, touristy High Street and dwindling into precariously perched towers and richly detailed spires that pierce the rain-sodden grey skies. My hostel was one of these giant stone affairs. I dragged my bag and myself inside to the cozy reception area and common room. After finding my room and devouring a snack, I settled into one of the huge leather armchairs for the afternoon.
July 12, 2007 -- Edinburgh
I walked up the street to Edinburgh Castle today, past the dozens of identical souvenir shops, past the hole-in-the-wall pubs and the trendy eateries with bistro-style patio tables, past the Mel Gibson look-alike dressed like William Wallace posing for pictures. I looked at the outside of the castle, saw the 11-pound entry fee (that's 22 US dollars!!) and promptly turned around. Slightly disheartened, I slunk back past the blue-faced kilted theme park character (who was still posing for pictures), the cafes and the souvenir shops. I turned off the Royal Mile somewhere and got lost. Sometimes that's the best way to see a city. I found a couple of cool vintage shops, wandered more, and found myself at the National Museum (which is FREE, by the way. Hello, U.S.? Yeah, take a hint maybe?). There was a cool exhibit about death in Scotland including mourning practices and funeral garb. I saw a tiny metal plaque that had been attached to a coffin. The tender inscription nearly brought tears to my eyes:
Sadly, today was our last day of the tour. We got going early on a "Black Cab Tour" of Belfast, where a few cabbies drove us around to important parts of the city, got out, and told us about the history of Belfast and its civil unrest. We first went to the Protestant neighborhood and walked around looking at murals. One of them was commemorating a UFF/UDA soldier who had fought for his side but was killed. I think his name was Steve McKeag. We made our way around the city and came to a large concrete wall, about twenty feet tall with another twenty feet of mesh fencing on top of that. It divides the Catholic and Protestant parts of the city; they sadly call it a "Peace Wall," as if the only thing keeping Belfast peaceful is a division of its warring factions. There was graffiti all over it, from huge murals to tiny messages of hope for peace from travelers all over the world. Judy, the woman in my group whose cousin was killed on Bloody Sunday, grimly said, "How can there ever be peace if we keep building walls?" I was moved by the brevity and accuracy of her observation. It is really amazing to be in a place that has so recently been ravaged by the shredding teeth of battle. The city is gingerly removing its bandages and revealing the shiny pink scarred skin underneath, wanting to feel safe to move forward but there is still a fear of upheaval in the air. I hope that one day, the "Peace Wall," will come down and the people can come together as one Ireland. At the end of the tour, we came to another set of murals. These were newer and many of them were protesting the occupation in the Middle East. There was a wonderful one of Dubya, sucking oil out of a straw in a battle field; underneath it read, "America's Greatest Failure."
When we got back to Dublin, we all decided to meet up later in the evening. I went back to Leo Burdock's for fish and chips; this time I got a smaller order of "fish nuggets," which sounds disgusting, but they were chunks of smoked cod, battered and fried, and they were delicious. I was nearly finished chowing down under the shelter of the somber stone walls of Christchurch Cathedral when the groundskeeper had to close the gates. Thanking him, I went across the street to the Bull & Castle pub and found everyone crammed into booths upstairs. The pub even had hefe-weissen! I got a weird look from the bartender when I asked for a bit of lemon; he must not know the joys of hefe and lemon on a summer evening. We all stayed until 1am or so, taking goofy pictures and talking about future travel plans. Texas Amanda and I got a couple of really terrible pictures together too.
July 8, 2007 -- Dublin
I slept in this morning for the first time in over a week. It was so nice. I went out walking around the shopping area and found a chic replacement for my sad canvas sad I've been toting around. It started out cute, but got so bleached by the sun it had turned a pukey shade of copper and looked suitable for a homeless person's wardrobe. I guess I am kind of homeless right now, but I don't need to look like it! After transferring my belongings and giving my old purse a new home in the trash, I went to St. Stephen's Green to read for a bit before meeting up with Tom. It started raining; I opened my umbrella and continued reading. There was a time when I would have run inside at the first few drops, but Ireland has instilled in me a permanent optimism concerning the weather. About 40 minutes later, the sun was out again. Typical Irish weather!
Tom came strolling up with Jermain, a crazy French guy who barely understands English. This makes for funny situations, because we'd say something to him, he'll nod, then do the exact opposite. We did some window shopping and sat in the pub for a bit, then it was time to meet the girls for dinner. I said goodbye to Tom and Jermain and went back to the Bull & Castle, where Nikki and Stacey (Australia) showed up soon after. As we were chatting, a guy broke into our conversation on three different occasions to tell me how awesome my tattoos are. Finally I just said, "Yeah, thanks, I know!" and smiled. Then he asked us if we were coming in for a pint and I replied, "Sure...maybe later?" with no intention of following him inside. When the other girls arrived we walked across the street to a quiet restaurant for dinner. The food was hearty and delicious. By the time we were done, we were all so tired we had no energy to go out. We said goodbye one last time and wished each other safe travels. It really was a good group of people and they made my Ireland experience wonderful.
July 9, 2007 -- Dublin to Newcastle
Oh, this morning was hellish. I had a 6:30 flight from Dublin to Newcastle, England, which meant I had to take a taxi to the airport at 4:30 because the buses don't run that early. After about four hours' sleep I was exhausted and was alseep by the time the plane took off. Next thing I heard was the pilot informing us we'd be landing in ten minutes. In a daze, I gathered my luggage, rode the metro into town, and checked into my hostel. By about 8:30 I crawled into bed and passed out. I had a relaxing afternoon; bought some groceries, chilled on the couch, read a bit. By the early evening I had regained some energy and was perusing through "The Crack," Newcastle's music and events magazine. My eyes bugged when I saw that the Brian Jonestown Massacre was playing a show, and right around the corner too! They're a San Francisco band with a fabulous mixture of early 60s rock, experimental post-punk, and the gigantic ego of their completely insane singer. I didn't even know they were still together. At first I thought, No, I don't want to go to a show alone, mopey-mope-mope boo-hoo. But then Traveler Amanda slapped Regular Amanda in the face and yelled, "Wake up, ya dumb ho! It's the Brian Jonestown Massacre, you have to go!" So I did, and it was wonderful. Bright, shining faces in the crowd illuminated the dark room with the anticipation of seeing something legendary. The tambourine player stood in front with his nose in the air and a sarcastic expression of bored condescendence on his face. It reminded me of old Patient Zero days when we were 17 and too good for the world. When I returned from the show I realized I hadn't eaten so I made some soup. Some people were playing cards in the TV room and they invited me in. Around the table was Andy (Melbourne), Wayne (from somewhere in England. His accent was so thick I couldn't understand a word he said), Kelly (England), Raisa (Canada) and Aida (Spain). We played cards for a bit then everyone slowly went to bed.
July 10, 2007 -- Newcastle
I slept in today! It was so nice. When I finally got up, I went to see the Angel of the North, a huge sculpture on the outskirts of town. It is very futuristic but has a quiet sophistication in its streamlined design. There wasn't much else to do in the area so I waited for a bus back into town. Newcastle is alive, but somber; modern glass and steel sculptures and high-rises blossom against the protests of the sleepy dirt-brown stone buildings that formed the city hundreds of years ago. In the evening, a group of us at the hostel played a bit of pool in the cellar. I brought my laptop, which acted as stereo system.
July 11, 2007 -- Newcastle to Edinburgh
I was so happy to finally be heading to Edinburgh today! The past couple days, though relaxing, were a little boring. I wasn't terribly motivated to do much sight-seeing as a combination of being tired, exhausted from traveling for so long, and looking forward to the Scotland tour. I'll be seeing plenty in the next week to make up for my sluggishness in Newcastle.
As soon as I settled into my seat on the bus, I turned on my iPod and zoned out, absorbing the scenery and meditating. I looked out the window some time later to see the sun was beaming down on train racing parallel to the roadway and beyond that were endless green acres of shimmering soft grains. The entirety of the field ruffled and shivered as though it was just a small section of silky fur on the back of a great gentle beast, snoring serenely in its nest between the distant craggy mountains past the fields to the left and the blustering expanse of ocean to the right. While my eyes lost focus on the mass of silvery-green, the importance that I was visiting the place of my ancestors finally sunk in. Something about discovering it alone and for the first time made it seem so very profound; I know who I am and I know where I came from, but seeing these ancient homelands forged all those pieces together. The homesick loneliness in the pit of my stomach that had been gnawing at me for several days now subsided, and I dreamed about the great dark sparkling seas out the other window.
Edinburgh was no less beautifully poetic than the revelations that bombarded me upon stepping off the bus and onto the cobblestones. On the old side of town, all the buildings are dark, heavy Neo-Gothic monoliths, looming over the bustling, touristy High Street and dwindling into precariously perched towers and richly detailed spires that pierce the rain-sodden grey skies. My hostel was one of these giant stone affairs. I dragged my bag and myself inside to the cozy reception area and common room. After finding my room and devouring a snack, I settled into one of the huge leather armchairs for the afternoon.
July 12, 2007 -- Edinburgh
I walked up the street to Edinburgh Castle today, past the dozens of identical souvenir shops, past the hole-in-the-wall pubs and the trendy eateries with bistro-style patio tables, past the Mel Gibson look-alike dressed like William Wallace posing for pictures. I looked at the outside of the castle, saw the 11-pound entry fee (that's 22 US dollars!!) and promptly turned around. Slightly disheartened, I slunk back past the blue-faced kilted theme park character (who was still posing for pictures), the cafes and the souvenir shops. I turned off the Royal Mile somewhere and got lost. Sometimes that's the best way to see a city. I found a couple of cool vintage shops, wandered more, and found myself at the National Museum (which is FREE, by the way. Hello, U.S.? Yeah, take a hint maybe?). There was a cool exhibit about death in Scotland including mourning practices and funeral garb. I saw a tiny metal plaque that had been attached to a coffin. The tender inscription nearly brought tears to my eyes:
"The eye finds, the heart chooseth,
the hand binds, but Death loseth."
the hand binds, but Death loseth."
There was also a small textiles exhibit, but not much else that caught my interest. When I got back to the hostel, a few people were going to a cafe that shows movies for free, and invited me along. The movie room was like a giant couch with tons of pillows. We watched The Butterfly Effect, which is a decent movie and was a nice escape. Later in the evening several of us went on the hostel's pub crawl. We had dinner first, then a couple pints. By the time I had gulped down my last sip of cider it was time for something else: a few of us had booked a ghost tour earlier in the day, so we split off from the pub crawl group. There were two girls from Florida (NOT obnoxious, thank goodness), an Australian girl, Matt from Philadelphia*, and myself.
*(As a side note: In October of 2007--yes, it's taken me far too long to finish typing my journal, I know--I was in Santa Cruz with my friend Erin for a day of shopping, coffee, etc. All day we'd been passively harassed by street people asking for change and such, so I'd been ignoring them. We were walking back to her car when someone in my peripheral vision reached out toward me and said, "Hey! HEY!" I shrunk away, not wanting dirty Santa Cruz street hippies touching me, but the guy started walking after me. "Hey!" he said, "I know you from Scotland!" I whirled around in a daze. Beneath the scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes I immediately recognized the piercing blue eyes and goofy grin. Flabbergasted, I exclaimed, "Matt!? What are you doing out here?" Turns out, it was the same friend from the Edinburgh hostel. He and his friends had just driven across country to work on organic farms through the WWOOF collaborative (wwoof.org) and were in Santa Cruz for only a couple days. It made the world seem so small to me, and I was absolutely blown away to run into someone I'd met halfway across the world. Now back to the ghost tour.)
The woman leading the ghost tour was hilarious! She was very dramatic and told us great stories and historic accounts of local murders from the last few centuries. We walked all over the Royal Mile and even got to go underground to visit old vaults where there have been dozens of reported "supernatural experiences."
July 13, 2007 -- Edinburgh to Isle of Skye
Friday the 13th, woooooo! My Scotland tour started today. Waking up at 6:30 after a late night out made it difficult to be extremely excited, but I was stoked enough. Our small group of fifteen and our guide, Budgee, has only three guys. Everyone seems friendly, but mellow. There definitely won't be any side-splitting shenanigans like on the Ireland tour. But then again, maybe those can only happen in Ireland? We drove quite a bit and checked into our hostel on the Isle of Skye.
*(As a side note: In October of 2007--yes, it's taken me far too long to finish typing my journal, I know--I was in Santa Cruz with my friend Erin for a day of shopping, coffee, etc. All day we'd been passively harassed by street people asking for change and such, so I'd been ignoring them. We were walking back to her car when someone in my peripheral vision reached out toward me and said, "Hey! HEY!" I shrunk away, not wanting dirty Santa Cruz street hippies touching me, but the guy started walking after me. "Hey!" he said, "I know you from Scotland!" I whirled around in a daze. Beneath the scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes I immediately recognized the piercing blue eyes and goofy grin. Flabbergasted, I exclaimed, "Matt!? What are you doing out here?" Turns out, it was the same friend from the Edinburgh hostel. He and his friends had just driven across country to work on organic farms through the WWOOF collaborative (wwoof.org) and were in Santa Cruz for only a couple days. It made the world seem so small to me, and I was absolutely blown away to run into someone I'd met halfway across the world. Now back to the ghost tour.)
The woman leading the ghost tour was hilarious! She was very dramatic and told us great stories and historic accounts of local murders from the last few centuries. We walked all over the Royal Mile and even got to go underground to visit old vaults where there have been dozens of reported "supernatural experiences."
July 13, 2007 -- Edinburgh to Isle of Skye
Friday the 13th, woooooo! My Scotland tour started today. Waking up at 6:30 after a late night out made it difficult to be extremely excited, but I was stoked enough. Our small group of fifteen and our guide, Budgee, has only three guys. Everyone seems friendly, but mellow. There definitely won't be any side-splitting shenanigans like on the Ireland tour. But then again, maybe those can only happen in Ireland? We drove quite a bit and checked into our hostel on the Isle of Skye.
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