Normandy Report: Part I - Tollbooths and Sausage

The morning I left was rough. Conal's going away fiesta the night before had dragged on until just about 3 hours before I had to get up. I don't get hangovers very often, but combine a decent amount of drink with a heavy breakfast just before a short "nap" and it made for an unpleasant car ride to the airport.

Also, on the way to the airport, I had the realization that this was probably the least prepared I'd ever been for a trip to a foreign country, particularly in terms of local language and customs. I hadn't even picked up a single guidebook on France. I had a large, detailed map of Normandy, on which I had marked specific sites I wanted to see that I had researched on-line. In that regard, I was prepared. But in terms of getting around and communicating? Clueless. I at least have enough rudimentary knowledge of Spanish, which was able to carry over some and help in Italy. And in Germany, I had the benefit of a guidebook with a short phrasebook section.

In France, I realized I didn't even (and still don't) know how to say 'please'. I got 'thank you', at least, but beyond that, I'm pretty much clueless on French vocabulary, and my pronunciation is just out the window.


Physically, anyways, I felt a bit better by the time I got on the plane, and managed to doze off for a bit on the way over. As I mentioned earlier, I woke up about an hour in and through a hole in the clouds below, spotted the gleaming white cliffs of Dover on the southeastern English coast. I scanned the sky solemnly, knowing that I didn't have to wait until the next morning to see famed battlefields. I was dancing in one at that moment.

The clouds broke up further as I came in towards the airport at Beauvais, about 30 miles north of Paris. I find the geographic layout of the countryside in Europe (Germany appeared to be similar to France in this respect. Ireland is somewhat, but less so) strangely fascinating: in the rural areas, all houses and buildings are clumped together in small towns. These towns are in turn clustered fairly densely across the countryside, sometimes only a mile or so apart. But there will be NO buildings along the roads in between. Looking at it from ground level, when a town expands, they might build a new, small development close in on the outer edge of town, expanding the well-defined town boundaries. But you will not see plots of land popping up and gradually sprawling across the roads between the towns like you do in rural parts of the US. It's really sort of strange and beautiful to look at from the air.

I landed at the airport on time and went to collect my rental car (a Rennault Clio, for the record). It was then that it struck me that I hadn't driven a car in over a month, and hadn't driven a stick shift in probably about 6 years, not to mention that I had never driven in France. But hey, at least they drive on the right side of the road, so I had that going for me.

Actually, it was fine, although I learned a valuable lesson in the French language:

On signs seen approaching a toll booth, cartes does not mean car. Rather it means card. As in credit card. I pulled up to the gate ready to give a handful of heavy coins to the nice toll-taker and found an unmanned card reader. Kicking myself for being so stupid (really, I've gotten pretty good at deciphering key important phrases in other languages, and that one particularly I should have known!), I didn't even realize it was credit cards--I assumed it was for some local pass card. (Really, it might not have mattered--my credit card didn't work in the reader for the gas station--more on that fiasco later--so it may not have worked here anyways).

I pushed the 'help' button. Repeatedly. Near panicking, with traffic backing up behind me (but no one honking! What nice, polite people, the French!) I threw on my blinkers and started to get out of the car, when the lady from the nearest manned tollbooth finally came over to help. She figured out what happened, took my money and returned with a card to open the gate for me, smiling and laughing, rather than scowling. Now holding up both my lane and hers, still no one honked. I might've pegged the French wrong all along.

The route took me through the fairly major cities of Rouen and Caen. In both cases, I was basically on an expressway running near the city center, but not exactly right through it. From what I saw of it, though, Rouen may be one of the most beautiful cities I've seen. It's nestled in the midst of a tight valley with lush green hills and rocky cliffs all around it. The cathedral in the middle nearly matched the one in Ulm for gothic beauty. Unfortunately, trying to find my way through the interchanges in the midst of thickening pre-rush-hour traffic, I did not get a chance to even stop for one picture of this lovely city.

In Caen--or several miles outside it, rather--I hit some inexplicably ridiculous traffic. The tollway that I was on became a parking lot, reminiscent of a major construction project or accident on a busy Michigan interstate in the summer. But there did not appear to be any construction or accidents. It was just backed up traffic. Just before the city center, my route veered off onto the northern part of the beltway, diverging from the bulk of the traffic that was heading onto the southern beltway and towards downtown. From a very limited viewing, Caen did not impress me much. My route took me through what I suppose to be the northern suburbs, which seemed to be littered with bland, generic hotels and high rises. The town itself was to the south, and I didn't get much of a glimpse at all. The surrounding terrain was still slightly hilly, but not nearly as picturesque as Rouen.

Still, I would've liked to have stopped to get at least one picture of a sign marking the name of the town, if for now other reason than the goofy personal trivia that I once worked at CAEN.

With a few stops to stretch my legs and to grab a sandwich at what was basically a rest area, I finally rolled into Carentan about 4 hours after leaving Beauvais. I found the B&B with no problem, checked in and headed off to grab some dinner. I walked into a small, family-style restaurant on the main street. The woman working did not speak English. I took a menu and tried to make some sense out of it. Somehow, despite not knowing how to say 'please', I knew that 'champignones' was 'mushrooms', so I ordered that. Apparently, that was just the appetizer option on a fixed-price menu, though. She managed to get across that I was supposed to order something from the bottom part as well. Oops. Ummm.... okay... here's something that says 'Andouillette' or something... hey, that looks like 'Andouille'. Probably sausage. Great! I'll take it.

Oh, it was sausage alright. A big, fat, fresh sausage, that was probably the nastiest sausage I've ever had. Why the Germans ever would've wanted to invade this country to begin with when they had all that fine bratwurst, bockwurst and weißwurst at home is beyond me. Luckily, there was some spicy brown mustard on the table, and they are serious about their spicy brown mustard in France! This stuff nearly an ounce-for-ounce equivalent to wasabi. A little of that spread along made the sausage edible.

After dinner I wandered around town a bit and took some pics of the cathedral. Since it was dusk and grey and rainy, they weren't that great, but here's a shot I took under better conditions the next day:


Carentan is a mid-sized city, I suppose, which is to say, by American standards, its pretty small. Some comparable-sized towns in Michigan would be Saline, or Sandusky. Try to imagine Saline being a critical strategic point in history, though. Carentan was significant because its location was the linkage point between the US forces that landed on Utah Beach, and those that came in on Omaha. It was also situated on the major highway that ran all the way up to the port of Cherbourg on the tip of the Cotentin peninsula. The 101st Airborne had the task of securing the city in order to enable the joining of the two invasion forces. It took them a week to do so after D-Day.

Its central location also made it an ideal place for me to base my stay. I looked around at several B&Bs and guest houses in the region, but settled on the Chambres d'Hôtes in Carentan. The place was very nice, and at 40 euro/night, or roughly half of what I paid for any of the places I stayed in Italy and Germany, it was a steal! Here are some thoughts I jotted down offline that night:

I'm apparently the only one staying here right now, so they gave me what must be the king's family suite. The room itself is roughly--nay, at least--the size of the living room in my place in Chicago. There's a queen sized bed, a second "kids?" bed that's about a double-size, a couch, a roll-top desk, a rocking chair, and oh yeah--a baby's crib (complete with a baby doll that creeped me the frick out when I first walked in and saw its head propped up in the corner. In fact, it creeps me out every time I look at it.). There's also the biggest freakin' armoire I've ever seen. I swear, when I first opened it, I expected it to be a door to a magical land with a lampost and Santa Claus and talking beavers and stuff.

Instead, it has a TV--the very best available in the 1972 catalogue, I'm sure of it--with a note that says, in four languages: "This is the only room that has a TV. Please do not share the sound with others when they cannot share the picture." M'kay. There also about 2 metric tons of assorted pillows and blankets, and a copy of what appears to be "The French Revolution: The Board Game".

The bathroom is no less impressive. Really cool tile work lines a huge main chamber with an elevated tub in an alcove by the window. The sink is very nice and spits out the best tasting tap water I've ever had (that I'm currently living in a place where the tap water is not fit for drinking may be skewing my perspective on the matter some). In each corner of the room is a door. Behind the first one on the left is the actual toilet. The other three, going clockwise, lead to: the water heater (I'm guessing?), a "closet" that is all of about 8" deep, and the hallway outside.

Speaking of doors, back in the main room, there is a door opposite the one that leads to the bathroom. I opened it up and behind it was a curtain drawn across.

I sat there staring at the curtain for several long seconds, trying to decide if I was brave enough to peek behind it. The climactic scene of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix flashed before my eyes, and I closed the door without touching the curtain.

I turned in for a good night's sleep, setting my alarm early. I had decided ahead of time I wanted to be on Utah Beach at 0630, with hopes of getting some great photos of the sun rising over the beach...

To be continued...

For more pictures around Carentan (mostly taken the second evening when the weather was better), click here.

Oof

Can't believe the Wings lost that one. It sounded like they were really outplaying the Ducks, particularly in the 3rd and yet the Ducks got a break late and a fluky goal in OT. What crap.

And to make matters worse, I've been working on uploading, organizing and labeling pictures for the past 5 hours or so and have only gotten through the first full day.

Go ahead and check out the link to my Flickr galleries over on the right if you're impatient, but when I get them all up, I'll post highlights, direct links, info and all that jazz... hopefully that'll be tomorrow.

Game day traffic

I tried to head out to catch the session at Taafe's a bit ago and both car and pedestrian traffic on Newcastle road near the house was considerably heavier than normal. I noticed a few cars had car flags and soon saw that most of the occupants were wearing sports jerseys. I made it across the road and as I made my way downtown, the city was just starting to crawl with folks decked out in maroon and white Gallimh (Galway) and red and green Maigh Eo (Mayo) jerseys.

Apparently there'd been a big Gaelic football match in town today. Wish I'd known. It was eating me up a bit being in the midst of the aftermath of a sporting event atmosphere and being completely on the outside looking in. To be honest, I didn't even know what sport they'd been playing until I got back and managed to look it up.

I've tried looking up match schedules on line to find a game to go to, but the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) web site ain't exactly ESPN.com. Combine a fairly static site with a sport culture and terminology that is completely different from what I'm used to, and it is nearly useless to me. It's just another example of how folks here, while being fully aware of and frequent users of the internet, still have yet to realize its full potential and all-consuming usefulness.

I'm not even certain who won (real-time score updates online is not a concept that has made it over here yet), as neither group of fans was particularly boisterous. Although, I did hear a few "Mayo" chants, and I can say that the Mayo jerseys outnumbered the Galway ones about 5-to-1. I figure there's a few possible explanations:

1. The Mayo folks are just more prone to wearing jerseys (unlikely)
2. They were all hitting the town after making the drive down, while the Galway folks all just went home. (only slightly more likely)
3. Galway, being the artsy hippy town that it is, just doesn't care about sports that much. (May be getting warmer, but the fact that all the Sunday evening sessions in town were apparently called off is a huge strike against this argument)
4. All the Galway jersies came off in shame as soon as the match was over (I think we may have a winner here)

Either way, I'm now on a mission to make it to a GAA match of some type while I'm here and am going to have to double up my efforts to do so. The fact that today was an absolutely perfect day to be at a sporting event--mostly sunny, warm enough when the sun was on you, but with a strong breeze that kept it from being too warm, even in a crowd--made it all that much worse.

Oh yeah, and speaking of relative numbers of various sporting team clothing, I may have been premature in calling the GASTLR Collegiate rankings for Notre Dame. I've seen three more people wearing Michigan stuff in the past two days. If I were still keeping count, I think it'd be very, very close, if not a Michigan lean.

Well, anyways... the Red Wings game is on in 5 minutes, so I'll be tuning into that while working on getting the rest of my Normandy pictures uploaded and formulating some posts on that trip, so expect some more stuff up soon.

In the meanwhile, here's a gallery of pics from Conal's last night in town on Tuesday, which consisted of a session at Coili's, fish-n-chips from McDonough's, a comedy act at a club, then closing out The Crane, followed by closing out the Roisin Dubh, all topped off by a full traditional breakfast that Emma made when we got home at about 2:30. Conal and I had planned on making breakfast, but once we got home and started, Emma apparently decided she'd rather have her life in her own hands and took over the cooking. By the time we were done, we had about 3.5 hours before we had to all get up as Emma was driving Conal and I to the airport for our flights to Filly and Phrance, respectively. Good times. Good times.

Also hanging out with us that night was Melissa, a friend of Aoife's from Boston who had just flown in that morning, on the first day of a three-month backpacking trip across Europe.

Moving day (the intra-house edition)

So I moved today. It was a tough move. All the way around the wall and into the next room.

With Conal heading home on Wednesday (sent off to much fanfare including a stand-up show, then closing out The Crane and the Roisin, followed by a traditional full breakfast when we got back to the house around 2:30--pictures forthcoming), that left open a room that was twice the size of mine, with a bed that was twice the size of min, with about 10x the storage space and... wait for it... a desk! And I was next in line in house seniority, since Aoife was staying put in her room that's even bigger and--more importantly--has an en suite bathroom.

So when I got up this morning, I started carting all my stuff over. I'm amazed how much stuff I have, seeing as I basically brought it all over with me. Stuff just has a way of expanding and multiplying once it's out of that suitcase/backpack, though...

It's a beautiful day out. Very windy, keeping the temp somewhere just a shade below perfect, and we had a textbook "isolated" shower and a brief hail storm this morning. But aside from that cumulative 7 minutes, it's been bright and sunny all day. We used to say back in Michigan and Chicago that if you don't like the weather, wait 10 minutes--it'll change. Galway's weather is perfect for those who are less patient than that.

I forgot until just now that this weekend is the Galway Early Music Festival. This year's theme is "Pirates of the Corribean" (no, that's not a typo, just a pun on the Corribe River that runs through town). Unfortunately, I've missed most of the cool programs already, but may try and catch the Cornette concert tonight and will try and see a few things tomorrow.

But as it's so nice out, I'm going to head out and knock around town a bit for a while. Will try and get pictures posted and stuff from Normandy later tonight.

I've seen London, I've seen France...

...and that was just in the past 4 hours. But still no sign of the Queen in her damned undies.

On my way over on Wednesday, the weather was thickly overcast and rainy in Shannon. I dozed off for a bit, but woke up about an hour in and looked out the window and through a small opening in the clouds, gleaming in the sun, saw some beautiful white cliffs.

On the way back today, I spotted them again in the dusk, set around an odd-shaped peninsula with a port town on it. I wondered if they were the famous 'white cliffs of Dover' that pilots returning to England from missions over France loved to see so much, but didn't know. I flipped through Ambrose's 'D-Day' which I happened to have on my lap, and found a map illustrating the Allies Assault Paths for D-Day. It noted the port town of Dover, sitting on an odd-shaped peninsula matching exactly the coastline I was looking down at.

The north side of the peninsula led right into the Thames River, which I was able to follow through the diminishing daylight all the way into London.


Juxtaposition.

As The Grafton was my home-away-from-home in Chicago, the lounge at Shannon Airport is getting to be my home-away-from-home(-away-from-Home) here. At least they have free wireless, and since I have my laptop with me this time..... :)

I'm back now, waiting once again for the bus back to Galway, which doesn't leave for another hour still. I'm looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

Tons of more thoughts and photos on the trip that I'll try and get up in the next couple of days. Glad I took both my cameras as I ran through both batteries on my Canon and filled up a couple of cards (to be fair, they weren't empty to begin with and I didn't get a chance to clear them off) on my Nikon.

So much to think about and process. Here's the high-level list of what I saw today, though:

Pointe-du-Hoc, Omaha Beach (and museum), American cemetery overlooking Omaha (wow), artillery battery at Longues-sur-Mer, remains of the 'Mulberry' (artificial port) at Arromanches, the Arromanches 360 theatre show, Gold Beach, Juno Beach and the Juno Centre, Sword Beach (sort of drove past it, anyways) and Pegasus Bridge.

A quick light note on the Juno Centre. Juno was the site of the Canadian infantry divisions landing. The museum was nice. Very similar to the others, except with a distinct, quirky Canadian stamp on it. For example, it's the only museum in Normandy (I'm assuming anyways) that has a display featuring hockey and curling equipment. And not 'this-is-stuff-the-troops-brought-with-them-for-fun' stuff, but instead, modern 'this-is-what-Canada-is-all-aboot-eh!' stuff. It was also located in a room that had personal video kiosks on various topics set up in three small circle where you sit around a centre pylon that I believe were supposed to be evocative of sitting around the stovepipe in an Inuit igloo. Different, but good.

Also, the Juno Centre was apparently staffed entirely by Canadian college students, which was a nice touch. It's safe to say that Canadians and Americans both have a great deal of national pride, but it's very different in the way it is manifested in each populace.

Day of Days

I'm back at the B&B. No WiFi, but they let me plug in my laptop directly to the router, so it's something.

Yes, the post below was in fact made, via a phone text, from Utah Beach at 0630 this morning. I decided I wanted to be on the beach at H-Hour, and to try and get some pictures of the sun coming up over the beach. Well, I got half of that. It was extremely overcast, windy with light on and off rain. I've got a bunch of pics, but I'm not sure how well they'll turn out.

After exploring the beach for a bit, I came back to the B&B for breakfast, then set out for the day hitting St. Come-du-Mont, the Airborne Museum in St. Mere-Eglise, the gun batteries at Azeville and Crisbeque, then back to Utah to check out the monuments at Exit 4 and the D-Day museum before heading back towards Carentan, stopping off at the Dead Man's Corner museum between Carentan and St. Come-du-Mont.
I got back into Carentan in time to grab a nice dinner and had a few hours of daylight left, so I set out to just explore a few other towns whose names I'd heard in passing: Baupte, Vierville, Foucarville, Etienville, among others, and trying to find some other particular less-marked spots of interest.

I have a TON of photos, but I'm not going to take the time here to sort through them all and upload them, but to bring a little levity back first, I do have to share some pics of a store I discovered on the outskirts of town. I hereby declare Carentan the coolest city in France, and possibly the coolest city in all of Europe, outside Galway:



I first saw that on my way out of town this morning and was just shocked. It doubled up when I was coming back into town this evening and saw the side of the building:

utah beach

H-Hour. 0630. A somber moment spanning the globe via technology.

Made it to Carentan

Not to get all whiny and out of touch with perspective in this particular time and place especially, but I'm going to write the rest of this post by typing the keys where they should be, rather than where they actually are on this keyboard. It'll make a fun game. See if you can decode it:

I thought the Ger,qn keyboqrds zere bqd1

Supposedly; this B7B hqd free zi)fi; so I brought ,y lqptop: Qppqrently thqtùs not the cqse; so Iù, zorking on the %guest% co,puter doznstqirs:


Cqrentqn is q auiet tozn: The B7B is nice; qnd ,y roo, is fit for q king: Huge bqthroo,:

It took ,uch longer to get here thqn I expected; cue to so,e heqvy trqffic in Rouen qnd Cqen: Rouen looks like q bequtiful tozn; nestled in q,ong so,e i,pressive hills: The zeqther is rqther like zhqt I left behind in Gqlzqy:


Okqy; this is driving ,e nuts: If I cqn get through the lqnguqte bqrrier enough to figure out for sure if I cqn get ,y lqptop on the ZiFi; Iùll post ,ore: Otherzise; Iùll just updqte you qll zhen I get bqck on Sqturdqy:

Heading out.

Emma offered to drive Conal and I to the airport, saving us a bus ride. We're leaving in about 20 minutes. I'll get into Beauvais Airport around 3pm, get my rental car, and then have about a 3 hour drive from there to Carentan, where I'll be staying for the next two nights, just about a 20 minute drive from Utah and Omaha beaches.

It took the 101st Airborne a week to reach Carentan, and they were dropped just a few miles outside of town.

I should be able to report in each night, hopefully with pictures.

All-request lunch hour: Book of Kells

In a comment below, Caelus mentioned that he wanted to hear more about the Book of Kells. Which reminds me... if there's anything I mention here that you're particularly curious about and want to hear more about, just post a comment saying so, and I'll do what I can.

In the case of the Book of Kells, it's an early manuscript containing the 4 gospels, dating back to around 800 AD. It's history is nearly as colorful as the ornate celtic illustrations and lettering that have made it famous. It was once described as one of the the most valuable treasures of the western world, and after having been stolen/lost many times, it has been held at Trinity College in Dublin for safekeeping since the 1600's. For a more detailed and accurate description and history of it, here's what Wikipedia has to say.

As for my personal experience with the Book, it goes something like this:

January 1994-
Dad: "We'll have some time in the morning to go see the Book of Kells before we catch our plane home."
Me, Nate: "What's that?"
Dad: "It's an old book."
Me, Nate: "Great."
Person working at Trinity College Library: "I'm sorry, the exhibit doesn't open until [insert some time decidedly after when we'd need to be making our way to the airport here], but here are some pictures of it."
Me, Nate, Dad: "Great."

March 2005-
Me: "Well, we could walk over to check out Trinity College."
Sarah: "What's there?"
Me: "The Book of Kells. It's an old book."
Sarah: "Cool!"
Me: "But it's like 9pm. It won't be open."
Sarah: "Great."

May 2007-
Me: "Hmmm... I have a few hours to kill. It's not morning. It's not night. Maybe I can finally go see this damn book."
Person working at Trinity College Library: "That'll be 8 euros, please."
Me: ***inaudible grumbling***
Me: "Hmmm. It's a book. It's old. It's in two chunks, permanently opened to show a total of only 4 pages. It looks like the pictures I saw 13 years ago, except that there were more pictures than pages."
Person working at the Trinity College Library: "Would you like to buy a postcard? It has pictures of the Book."
Me: "Great."


I'm mostly selling it short for dramatic and attemptedly humorous purposes. In actuality, it was pretty cool to see, and you certainly get a sense of how fine the artwork is by seeing it in person and up close that is in no remote way translated to the blown up photos around the exhibit area.

There is also a fairly extensive display prior to seeing the book itself on the history of the book, the scribes and artisans who made it, and the process of how it was believed to have been made. The display also includes two lesser known but equally impressive and significant books contemporary to the one from Kells, The Book of Armagh and The Book of Durrow along with several other minor works of unknown specific history.

It's just that as various points of touristic interest that I've stumbled across go, at 8 euro, this one seems to rank pretty low on the bang-for-your-buck scale.

But as with anything, the actual value to be gotten depends on your particular interest and appreciation of what you see.

I'll take 'Potpourri' for $500, Alex

Okay, I waited until it rained to brag about the fact that I went 30-some straight days without rain. I've now yet to have a day since then without rain. Like I said... law of averages. Luckily it clears up for a few hours in the afternoon on most days, but then is right back at it shortly. It's also been pretty chilly.

Emma has a car and drove me up to Tuam this afternoon to collect mine and Aoife's free bikes. They definitely need some cleaning up and at the least some air, more likely, new tires. And a new seat would be nice. I'm going to try and take mine down to the local bike shop tomorrow and see what they can make of it.

First blogger, then Flickr. Then Skype and Yahoo messenger. Now, I've succumbed to yet another 'net phenomenon. I'm actively updating my account on Facebook, and have already reconnected with a few long-long lost friends. If any of you are on Facebook and I haven't found you yet, look me up.

If I start in on MySpace, please, someone... shoot me.

I tried my hand at cooking quasi-Indian food for the first time tonight. Not bad for a first time attempt, but not great. Nothing too fancy... just a basic curry sauce from a packet over some stir fried chicken and rice, with a couple pre-made naan. The naan made the meal, as it always does with Indian food. They have a lot of other pre-made Indian sauces readily available here, so I think I'll give it another go at some point.

I popped my Galway session cherry last night (Sunday night). I finally took my whistle along to the session at Taaffe's with Conal. I spent most of the time just sitting there, but was asked for a tune and did the hornpipe set (Scully Casey's and Humours of Tullycrine) we learned in class. The session wrapped up with the Tarbolton set, which happens to be the only full set of reels I know. Tonight Conal and I went to The Crane, but not a single tune came up that I knew how to play, and I felt weird about just starting one up uninvited, so I didn't really play the whole night, save for one set on a borrowed bodhran.

I leave for Normandy Wednesday morning. I'm only about 1/6th of the way through "D-Day" by Stephen E. Ambrose. I don't think I'm going to get through the remaining 500+ pages in the next 48 hours.

Conal's flight back home to Philly leaves at about the same time on Wednesday, so we're probably going to catch the bus down to Shannon together. Tomorrow night, though, we party like rock stars.

Tigers are currently down 3-1 to the Red Sox in the bottom of the 6th. The Pistons and Red Wings have the night off to think about what they've done.

While I'm on a sports kick...

I really tried to keep an accurate count for the Great American Sports Team Licensed Gear Race while I was in Italy and Germany, but I just never got around to tallying up the totals and have since lost track, so we'll call that over. A few general observations though:

Other than the disqualified Yankees, I think the clear winner is their arch rival Red Sox. It took a while, but Red Sox stuff has been coming out of the woodwork lately, and there were tons in Italy (most of which, I'm quite sure were actually worn by tourists from Boston, unlike 80% of the faux Yankees crap that you see over here).

Over time, I have to concede that Notre Dame won the college division, though it was hardly decisive. The Michigan stuff sort of dried up for a while, though I spotted a sweatshirt the other day. Oregon actually might have had the highest total count, but I began to pick on the fact that they're at a bit of an advantage not unlike the Yankees, due to their proximity and unique relationship with Nike. I'm very certain now that Nike markets a lot of more stuff with "Oregon" on it over here than any other school (founder Phil Knight is an alum, and the company is based in the Portland area) and that the bulk of the "Oregon" shirts I saw (most of which were the exact same shirt, but with different color combinations) were bought because they were "Nike" shirts, not because they were "Oregon" shirts.

The biggest surprise of the whole thing, though? To date, I have not seen a SINGLE Ohio State item. And, for that matter, I have not seen a single thing from the reigning football and basketball champs, Florida, either.

I did see a Pistons shirt in Venice, and another Tigers hat in Florence. But to date, I still have not seen any Lions stuff. Unlike the OSU and Florida observations, that one's not such a shock.

Sportsnight. Quasi-live blog, already in progress

It's nearly 3am. I'm listening to the Wings and "watching" the Tigers via Gameday (live real-time stats/play-by-play).

2:53 AM:
Wings tied up at 3 in the middle of the 3rd. Anaheim's had not one, but two goals awarded on replay. Good calls, apparently, but just never seen that twice in the same game.

Tigers gave up 4 in the first and 2 more each in the third and fourth, but are crawling back in. Inge just scored to make it 8-4 Minnesota. Granderson's on 2nd with 1 out.

3:00 AM
Sheffield struck out, Maggs walked. Twins' pitcher is named 'Boof'. Wings still tied, just over 5:00 left in regulation. With two men on and two outs, its up to Guillen. Good plate discipline by Maggs on full count, btw.

3:03 AM
Guillen strikes out on three pitches. Not gonna come back that way, guys. Minn leads 8-4 middle of the 5th inning.

3:07 AM
Sounds like Wings are getting good pressure, but need to get one in. Just over a minute left in regulation.

3:08 AM
"Last minute to play in the third period"
("Thaaaaaaaaaaannk yoooooouuuuuu")

3:10 AM
Wings heading to OT. Great. Sleep is over-rated anyways. Sounds like a little scuffling on the ice.

Twins have 1 out with a man on first in the bottom of the 5th, same score.

3:13 AM
F! Cuddyer just doubled bringing in Castillo. Twins lead 9-4 now with two outs and Cuddyer on 2nd.

3:28 AM
Couple of close calls by Datsyuk, but no dice. Tigers strand one in the top of the six, still trail by 5 going into the bottom of the 6th.

3:32 AM
Grilli's out, Ledezma's in for the Tigs to lead off their side of the 6th. Thames in for Monroe. And Ledezma leads off the inning by giving up a single.

3:40 AM
Anaheim going on the power-play. Damn. And Twins have the bases loaded with just 1 out. Double damn.

3:42 AM
Sac fly. 10-4 Minn. Two outs, men on 1st and 2nd. This one's not looking too good for the D.

3:44 AM
Wings killed the penalty. Ledezma certainly keeping things interesting. He just loaded the bases back up with a walk. Fantastic.

3:48 AM
Ledezma got out of the jam. Three innings left, the bengals gotta get some runs on the board, and more importantly, stop the bleeding on the defensive side.

3:51 AM
Frack. Neidermeyer. Anaheim 4, Detroit 3 final. The Pistons have some company in the losers' lounge tonight, and its looking like it'll be a full house before the night's through.

I think I'll let the Tigers work that out on their own. I'm getting some sleep.

10:22 AM
Final: Twins 16, Tigers 4. WTF? Definitely glad I didn't stay up any later than I did. Really wish I hadn't stayed up that late even.

People pics! Etc!

By popular request, (and now that I've got enough pics to make it worthwhile) I've uploaded a gallery of assorted photos of the people I've been hanging out with and talking about. There's pics of Traci and Aiden's visit to Galway, Rachel's BBQ and some from Kesstan's farewell breakfast this morning.

The can be found by clicking your little moving pointy thing right here!

For an update on the roomie situation, Kess has moved on now, Emma is in. Aoife is due back sometime today, while Conal leaves on Wednesday. As far as I know, it'll be me, Aoife (which btw, for those of you wondering, is pronounced 'EE-fah') and Emma for the rest of the time I'm here, but there will be one empty room once Conal leaves so we'll see if someone else moves in.

By the way, I'm going to be taking Conal's room when he's gone. Not only is it bigger, but it has a larger bed, much more storage space, and most importantly, a DESK. Although my room is nice and cozy. Maybe I'll just take the desk. And the bed.

The built-in cabinets could pose a problem, though.

Conal's got a call sign

Tonight is Kesstan's last night before she heads back to the states, so she, Conal and I headed out for fish n chips at McDonough's, followed by a few pints at Neachtain's and the Front Door. While we're eating our fish n chips (delicious irony ahead), the conversation somehow meandered to Top Gun, fighter pilots and their call signs. Conal states that he almost wished he'd become a fighter jock just to get the 'cool' nickname.

I had to inform him, however, that few fighter jocks actually got cool, macho names like 'Maverick' and 'Iceman', and that most call signs were rather derogatorily derived from the pilot's actual name, and that his call sign then, most likely would be 'Lingus'.

Aside from the fact that "'Aer' Lingus" would be a great name for an Irish (or Irish American) fighter jock, the guy has willingly and bravely (and in fact, rather proudly) accepted the fact that from here forward, be he pilot or not, he will be known in this house as Conal 'Lingus' O'Kane.

Score! Two free bikes!

I've been bemoaning the fact that I have not been able to find a used bike and had more or less given up on it. When I got here, I asked Aoife if she had any ideas where to look and she only mentioned that she was looking for one as well.

Some time ago, my buddy Eric told me about the organization Freecycle. Not to be a deliberate pun on Free and Cycle, but rather on Free and Recycle--it's an outfit that tries to pair up folks who have stuff they want to give away for FREE rather than throw it away, with other folks who might find it useful, whatever it may be. And unlike Craigslist, which has yet to really pick up in the Irish mainstream, despite having a Irish (Dublin, anyways) site, there's a fairly active Freecycle group in Galway.

I posted to the group that I was looking for a bike and a desk. I figured it was a longshot, particularly on the bike, but you never know.

That was about a month ago. Nothing.

This morning, a message was posted to the group that someone had two bikes: a men's mountain bike and a ladies racing bike up for grabs. I quickly replied to claim the men's bike and forwarded the message on to Aoife.

We now each have a bike perfect for our needs waiting for us. We just have to figure out how to get over to Tuam and get the bikes back here.

This one's for Dad, Nate and Sarah

Eddie Rocket's in Dublin--the first place I ever ate in Ireland, with Dad and Nate in December 1993. I returned there again for nostalgia sake when I was in Dublin with Sarah in 2005. Would I do it again this week? No, I resisted. (Although to be fair, that's probably only because we have one here in Galway, and in a moment of weakness shortly after I arrived, I gave it another try. It's really not good, especially for the price.)

Here's a few other interesting highlights from Dublin, though the full set can be found here.


This is another one that might stir up some memories for Sarah. The far lane beyond the posts on this road is a bus-only lane that I somehow got stuck in with my little Fiat Punto that would fool no one into thinking it was a bus. If it were as empty as it is in this picture, it would've been no problem, but it was in the middle of rush hour at the time.


It's the real thing, baby!


Dublin, like Boston, offers DUKW tours. DUKWs (or "Ducks") were amphibious trucks designed during WWII and used on D-Day, among other operations. I'd recently learned about them while reading "D-Day" by Stephen E. Ambrose in preparation for my trip to Normandy next week. Had I known in advance they had them in Dublin, I would've found tried to get on one of the tours. As it is, I tried to find the departure point to see if it'd still be possible, but didn't manage it in time. Of particular interest to any recreational sailors who might be reading this, the DUKW was designed by Rod Stephens of Sparkman & Stephens, Inc.


This archway marks the northern corner of St. Stephen's Green and the end of Grafton St, namesake of The Grafton Pub & Grill in Chicago. The arch is featured in the logo of the pub.


In addition to the pics from Dublin, I've added another gallery of miscellaneous shots from around Galway, and a set of photos specifically of various pubs here in town. For the pubs gallery, I decided to experiment with the map feature on Flickr and have placed the pics where they were taken. It seems to be a bit finicky, but give a look at the map tab if you can get it to load, and zoom in enough and you should be able to get an idea of where each of these places are around town.

Scenes from Italy and Germany

Okay, I think this'll be my last post primarily about that first side trek. I wanted to get at least a few more thoughts out there before they're too far gone.

Some of my favorite moments were not seeing some of the great and well-known sites. Rather, there were just various points in time, whether it was during a meal, or while in transit, when I just felt particularly in tuned with my surroundings, such that they felt completely normal and yet so far from it. These were times when I had to just look around and smile and sit in disbelief that I was in just that particular situation at just that time.

They were also the times I most wanted to be able to be directly plugged in here to really capture in real-time a verbal snapshot to preserve indefinitely. They weren't necessarily photogenic moments (although sometimes I tried), as you would need a full 360 degree camera as well as recorders for at times all 5 of the senses to really capture what was special. A written description, if done well, is as close as you'll come.

Some, unfortunately, were so fleeting that they're already gone. But I'd like to try and recapture a few of the key ones here before they are as well.

I'd say the first one actually did come at a well-known site. I really took my time enjoying the Colosseum my second day in Rome. As I mentioned, it was my only real "objective" for the day, and I got in early and was in no rush. After the guided tour, I spent a good hour and a half to two hours just walking around the structure, and at one point, had a seat on some of the stone steps on the upper level at the center of the arena ("on the fifty", as I kept chuckling to myself).

I sat there, enjoying the shade and the still-mild morning sun and just let my imagination roll. I tried to recreate in my mind the splendor of what it must have looked like when the walls and walkways were covered with marble and gold decor. I tried to listen to the crowd, and to see the battles unfurling below me. I chuckled about how I need to see "Gladiator" again.

I've spent a remarkable amount of time in my life in sports arenas, including (IMHO) the largest and grandest one that the US has to offer. I tried to correlate what the ancient Romans must've felt walking into that arena for an event, to how I feel each time I enter a stadium. I wondered if they tailgated.

The next several that stand out would be in Florence. My first (and second) impressions of Florence were fantastic. The first was walking from the train station to the hotel. I came in on a Sunday afternoon, and arrived at the smaller, secondary station on the east side of town, as it was closer to the hotel. My route therefore didn't take me near the city center, which was bustling (though still no way comparable to Rome). Rather, it went through a pleasant, quiet residential neighborhood. One thing that struck me about Rome was that in my time there, I never saw anything that seemed like a pleasant place to live. I'm sure they were there, but I just never made it to those parts. All I saw were historic sites, shops, restaurants, commercial/government buildings, and in the suburbs along the route in from my hotel, tons of run-down, ugly high-rise apartments.

Florence was a striking change from the start. These quiet streets lined with pleasant, 3-4 story apartment buildings barely noticed nor cared that I was treading on their Sunday afternoon nap. Indeed, there were hardly any inhabitants or traffic around. It was a most blissful reprieve from the noise and crowds of Rome.

Later that evening, I set out to have dinner at the restaurant next to the hotel. The hotel was situated on a parkway that was fairly major by Florentine standards. Across the road was, in fact, a pleasant little park that ran along the Arno River. The sidewalk patio looking over across the street to the park was quiet, shaded, and the perfect place to take a meal. A tasty pizza was accentuated by a 1/2 litre of vino della casa, rosso (house red wine), which at 6 euro, I had thought would be little more than a glass or two. Heh. It was much more and plenty for enough for 2, let alone 1. After dinner, now with a nice buzz on, I took a stroll along the river, and the infatuation I'd developed with Florence that afternoon was sealed into love. And I hadn't even made it into the city center yet. The walk along the river was just before dusk; the temperature perfect and the skies were beautiful. The river rolled quietly by, over the man-made dam that strangely cut a diagonal swath across the it. Bridges crossed at either ends of a lengthy stretch and the city hummed with a quiet, but vibrant buzz.

The next one, and the one that stands out as the most off-the-wall, last-places-I'd-ever-envision-myself came while sitting at the train stop on the Italian-Austrian border. The Alps were towering around us, and the conversations with Franco and Martina had been in full swing. But there was a lull as we were sitting there and I just took a mental step back for a second and thought about where I was. Had my phone battery not been nearly dead, I would've tried to mail in a post right then and there. The Alps? Northern Italy? Austria? On my way to Germany? The whole magnitude of the situation just swirled around me, anchored by the apparent normalcy of it.

The first night in Munich there was actually one such moment that I was able to blog live (here). It's probably a good thing I did too, because after what followed that night in the hostel, I'm not sure I would've had the inclination to go back and right anything pleasant about the experience. But that evening was most definitely one of those moments.

I suppose alcohol has a tendency to help create or at least add to these moments, so its no surprise that lunch in the beer garden at Hofbrauhaus and the beer tent at Fruhlingsfest both qualified. At the Hofbrauhaus, the brass band blasting out live music and the Best Pretzel I've Ever Had were the golden touches that polished off a scene set with a pleasant fountain in the middle of a small, enclosed courtyard, with a nearly impenetrable canopy of chestnut trees providing shade. Looking up, only a few specks of the perfect blue sky above could be seen through the large green leaves.

The beer tent couldn't be more different of a setting, and yet the ambiance among the people was the same. Table after table, person after person, enjoying the setting, the conversation, the music, and drinking the same huge beers. But oh yes, the setting was different. The beer tent was probably eight times the size of the courtyard at Hofbrauhaus. Maybe more. Along one side were food and beer vendor stations. Along the other were what were apparently private boxes--small mini patios one next to the other with small picket fences separating one from each other, and from the main area in the center. Ornately decorated signs labelled each one. At the front, of course, was the stage, from where the Cagey Strings belted out an amusing blend of country, oldies, classics and hard rock. When a band can jump seamlessly from Lynard Skynard to AC/DC after having completed some Little Richard, with a bona fide country song I didn't recognize in between, you know you're onto something special. Of course, in between the food vendors, the private boxes, and the stage, were row upon row of picnic tables, jam packed with people enjoying the moment. Occasionally a group would get up and dance on their table.

As far as the physical appearance, what stood out to me the most, other than the sheer size of it, were the buntings hanging from the ceiling bearing the blue and white diagonal checked pattern of the flag of Bavaria. There was something about the coolness of the colors and the vibe that they gave off that was very welcoming.

Among the general in-the-moment feeling the entire time I was in the beer tent (which, really wasn't all that long. Feeling a stranger in a strange land, I found an empty seat and had a beer, but without conversation to sustain the night, I moved on after it), I had one specific moment when I had to chuckle and think about some friends a few thousand miles away. At one point, the band started into Alabama's "Hey Baby". Each time they'd draw out that "Heeeyyyyyyyyy, hey-ey baaaby" line, I couldn't help but chuckle, smile and add in a whispered voice, "Go Wildcats!" in the beat that followed and think of all my Northwestern alum friends back home. (For those not privileged enough to have attended an NU football game, that's a standard musical cheer of the Northwestern Marching Band.)

I suppose first setting off into the streets of Ulm was yet another similar experience. Here I was walking out of a train station into a town that I knew absolutely nothing about, save for that it shared its name with my great grandmother's family and that it had a beautiful cathedral which my grandfather had been fascinated by. Oh yeah, and that it had been compared to Des Moines.

It was a different sort of experience for sure, as it was the one time on the entire trip when I really felt I was well off the beaten path of the tourist. Finding the town to be full of pleasant little surprises was an unexpected bonus, but when I first set foot up the street from the station, I had to just shake my head and wonder what the hell I was doing there.

For as cool as Venice was, you'd think it would be chock full of little episodes like this. But for the life of me, I can't really think of one that stands out as being a great in-the-moment vignette. Maybe the whole time was like that and no particular moment ever stood out? Maybe I was too fatigued at that point from a week's plus worth of travels piled on with tons of walking around winding, tiny streets that never seemed to lead where I though. Whatever the reason, Venice was pleasant, but the lack of reasonably priced net cafe's was apparently not much of a burden at that point, as there was little that jumped out as a scene that absolutely had to be painted in words to be remembered.

I'm looking forward to painting many more scenes in the future, both from Normandy next week, from my travels in Scotland next month, and from the rest of my time in Ireland.

Change is bad

No, I'm not talking about the moving-to-another-country type of change, or the night-games-at-Michigan-Stadium (I wish!) type of change.

I'm talking about the literal cold, hard, cash.

Whoever thought up the physical monetary system of the euro is nuts. Personally, I hate change jangling around in my pockets. I hate taking the time at the till to count out the exact change out of a handful of coins. And its bad enough when you're only sorting among a small variety of different values, but when you have an entire handful and nearly all of them are different? Fughedabowdit!

In the US, we effectively have four coins: penny, nickle, dime and quarter. The eagles that adorn fifty-cent pieces are somewhere south of the California Condor on the rare bird list and I'll be shocked if any dollar coin program will ever gain popular acceptance in my lifetime. Even the penny has been rumored to be phased out at some point and is often useful for nothing more than filling up jars to be saved for some far-distant-future vacation.

The euro dollar system has EIGHT DIFFERENT COINS! There's a 1c coin that's absolutely minuscule. Seriously, its about the size of the head of a thumbtack. Then, my most-pointlessly-favorite, the 2c coin. I kid you not. From there, they move up to your standard nickle and dime equivalents, and to a 20c coin that has a strangely floral edging. With 8 coins, you'd think they'd find room for something useful like a quarter, but no, they skip from the 20c coin to the 50c. Why have four coins to a dollar when you can have five? Then there's the 1 euro coin, and finally, the real pocket killer of them all, the whopping 2 euro coin.

To make matters worse, there's no substantial color differentiation among the sub-dollar coins. They're all some form of yellowish/brownish metal. The 1 and 2 euro coins are two-tone, with the same yellowish color interior, surrounded by a ring of--gasp--silver/nickle-ish metal. They essentially are identical, save for the 2 euro being a bit bigger. Also, don't think that you can count on easily distinguishing them based on the designs on the face of the coin. While the 'tails' side of the coins are all standard within a given denomination, the 'heads' sides changes based on the country where it originated.

In Ireland, all the coins have feature the same design with a harp surrounded by stars. Most of the coins in circulation in a given spot are likely to be domestic, but there is a lot of cross-pollination, particularly in areas frequented by tourists. Taking a quick look at the coins I have in my possession at the moment, about 2/3rds of them are Irish, but the other third each have a different design, regardless of whether they're from the same or different country, or are the same or different denomination.

Oh, but the edges of each denomination are unique! That really helps! Not!

I'm used to chucking my change into a can or a drawer and saving it all up for some later purpose or cashing it all in at one time, while keeping my pockets clear and quiet. But when roughly 5-10% of the currency in your possession at any point in time is in coins, that's not really so practical.

On the other hand, though, I guess I'm getting used to it in a way, as I will admit that psychologically, anyways, there is something to be said for a small pocket full of change being good for a whole night of drinks at the pub.

Quick Dublin report

I had a good, albeit very brief, trip to Dublin this afternoon. I think the interview went well, though it's hard to say for sure. I guess I'll know more soon, and then, maybe, the tough decision time will come.

I really can say that I'm not sold on living in Dublin. Walking around for a few hours after the interview this afternoon confirmed that in my mind, it has more in common with Chicago or even New York than it does with Galway in terms of the crowds and the traffic and the noise, which collectively are kind of the abstract dull on the luster of big city life. However, from the street in front of the office, one can see the Wicklow Mountains towering in the distance. That would have an amazing mitigating effect, especially if I were fortunate enough to wind up at a desk along a wall facing that direction.

In related news, on my third time of being in the vicinity of it, I finally got to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College. Eight euro just to see four pages of some old coloring book?!? ;)

More detailed reports and pictures to follow at a later time. Probably.