...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.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
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:
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:
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
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:
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Monday, May 14, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Friday, May 11, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
It's nice to be appreciated
I had to run some errands downtown a bit ago and Conal was heading off to a session at Taaffe's, another pub I had yet to check off my list of places to hit. I popped into the pub with him to grab a quick pint and listen to a few tunes before carrying on with my errands.
While standing at the bar, I was hit up for some conversation by an older (or '67 years young', rather) gentleman named Joe. Joe's mood was reflexive and downright cheerful--had he the energy of a younger man, though, giddiness might have been more apt--as he told me repeatedly of how wonderful the state of affairs are these days in Ireland, particularly in the North, with peace reigning at last. All this, he insisted repeatedly, was due to America, and 'let no one tell you different!'.
It's true. In particular, Bill Clinton's involvement in the situation in Northern Ireland, particularly assisting in facilitation of the Good Friday Agreement, among other steps and provisions, played a pivotal role in making the situation in Northern Ireland as peaceful today as it has been in many generations. Clinton is nearly as beloved over here as JFK, who's portrait can still be found today hanging on the wall next to that of the Pope in many old Irish homes and pubs.
In a day and age when our country's foreign policy has caused us to be looked upon with great suspicion and ill-will, it's wonderful to hear words of appreciation and assurance that our country has done some great things in this world. And furthermore, that there are those who have not forgotten.*
Let's hope that the future brings more of the good, though there will always be (and always should be) those who don't forget what's been done in the past, regardless of its effect.
While standing at the bar, I was hit up for some conversation by an older (or '67 years young', rather) gentleman named Joe. Joe's mood was reflexive and downright cheerful--had he the energy of a younger man, though, giddiness might have been more apt--as he told me repeatedly of how wonderful the state of affairs are these days in Ireland, particularly in the North, with peace reigning at last. All this, he insisted repeatedly, was due to America, and 'let no one tell you different!'.
It's true. In particular, Bill Clinton's involvement in the situation in Northern Ireland, particularly assisting in facilitation of the Good Friday Agreement, among other steps and provisions, played a pivotal role in making the situation in Northern Ireland as peaceful today as it has been in many generations. Clinton is nearly as beloved over here as JFK, who's portrait can still be found today hanging on the wall next to that of the Pope in many old Irish homes and pubs.
In a day and age when our country's foreign policy has caused us to be looked upon with great suspicion and ill-will, it's wonderful to hear words of appreciation and assurance that our country has done some great things in this world. And furthermore, that there are those who have not forgotten.*
Let's hope that the future brings more of the good, though there will always be (and always should be) those who don't forget what's been done in the past, regardless of its effect.
*As a side note, I'm extremely curious to see how this attitude is reflected on my visit to Normandy next week. It's an area that owes as much a direct debt to America as probably any outside our own borders, yet is in a country whose people are perceived, anyways, to be the least supportive of all our allies. Judging by the number of monuments, museums and other artifacts that I've discovered online while researching the trip, it certainly appears that officially, anyways, the Normandy region very solemnly remembers the great sacrifice of the American, British and Canadian soldiers who fought to liberate her. But it will be interesting to see what the perception of the everyday man-on-the-street will be like.
No clever post title today
I tried. I got nothing.
There's not an awful lot to report on, as its been a pretty quiet week. The weather's been pretty crappy for the most part, though the sun's poked through for a few minutes here and there occasionally.
The biggest news is that I'm heading to Dublin tomorrow for an interview. This will be round 3 (and 4?) with this particular company (whose products include this blogging engine). There's possibly another round or two to go, but so far, things are looking pretty promising. It'll still be a tough decision if I get it, but its the sort of opportunity I don't think I could say 'no' to. But we'll see how things go.
Other than that, it's been a good week for getting out and hanging out with folks. On Sunday, while Aoife was still here, one of her friends from her theatre troupe, Rachel, was having a barbecue. Rachel lives in a co-op over in Salthill (a suburb of Galway). Aoife, Kesstan, Conal and I headed over there, along with two other friends of Aoife's, Pearl and Emma (who's moving in here today). It was fun just chatting and hanging out with folks. It was quite the international gathering. Aussie's, Yanks, Canadians, Germans...even a few Irish folk! It'd been a while since I'd hung out with hardcore theatre types, so it was a stitch. Dramatic readings and the whole works. And some good food and beer, too. No, they didn't 'throw another shrimp on the barbie', but there was Foster's--which Rachel nearly choked with laughter when she saw Emma drinking. Remember, folks.... Foster's--Australian for piss.
The biggest thing I got out of the experience though was just realizing how many people there are doing more or less just what I'm doing, or some variation of it. Some, it seems, have more or less made a life of it. Some have jobs, some are legal, others are just scraping by doing whatever they can.
On Monday, as I hinted at with yesterday's 1000 words, my friend Traci was in town to visit. Traci used to tend bar at The Grafton on Mondays and I got to know her pretty well. Her fiance is originally from Kilfenora, Co. Clare and they're over here visiting for a bit, after having just moved from Chicago back to her home town of Bethlehem, PA. They came up to Galway for a while on Monday and I had lunch with her and Aidan at The King's Head. It was good to reminisce about Chicago a bit, as well as seeing a familiar face again!
Then last night, we decided that an official house 'night on the town' was in order. Conal, Kesstan, Emma and I headed out and grabbed a few pints at Coili's, then another round at Neachtain's just before they closed. With all the pubs closing up on us (pubs generally close at midnight here, at least during the week.), we headed off to the local club, the Roisin Dubh and proceeded to close that place.
We headed back to the house around 2 and felt that breakfast was in order. Kesstan made up some great scrambled eggs, peppered mackerel, sausage and black pudding--the first black pudding I've had on this particular trip, in fact! That hit the spot, especially washed down with a shot of Jaeger. Heh.
After that, I tried teaching Conal and Kesstan how to play Texas Hold 'Em. It was about 4:15 by the time we all stumbled to bed.
Okay, so maybe it hasn't been that quiet of a week. Maybe it's just that I still can't hear anything due to the ringing in my head from the Roisin Dubh.
I have a few pics of some of us hanging out, but I'm waiting to get some more. I didn't take my camera to the BBQ, unfortunately, but Emma did and I'm hoping to get some of her pics once she gets settled in, so I'll post those when I can.
But as a teaser, here's short clip of Conal (in the foreground with his back to me, playing the fiddle) playing in a session at The Crane the other night. It wasn't a great clip anyways, and uploading it to YouTube made the picture even darker, but at least it's something:
There's not an awful lot to report on, as its been a pretty quiet week. The weather's been pretty crappy for the most part, though the sun's poked through for a few minutes here and there occasionally.
The biggest news is that I'm heading to Dublin tomorrow for an interview. This will be round 3 (and 4?) with this particular company (whose products include this blogging engine). There's possibly another round or two to go, but so far, things are looking pretty promising. It'll still be a tough decision if I get it, but its the sort of opportunity I don't think I could say 'no' to. But we'll see how things go.
Other than that, it's been a good week for getting out and hanging out with folks. On Sunday, while Aoife was still here, one of her friends from her theatre troupe, Rachel, was having a barbecue. Rachel lives in a co-op over in Salthill (a suburb of Galway). Aoife, Kesstan, Conal and I headed over there, along with two other friends of Aoife's, Pearl and Emma (who's moving in here today). It was fun just chatting and hanging out with folks. It was quite the international gathering. Aussie's, Yanks, Canadians, Germans...even a few Irish folk! It'd been a while since I'd hung out with hardcore theatre types, so it was a stitch. Dramatic readings and the whole works. And some good food and beer, too. No, they didn't 'throw another shrimp on the barbie', but there was Foster's--which Rachel nearly choked with laughter when she saw Emma drinking. Remember, folks.... Foster's--Australian for piss.
The biggest thing I got out of the experience though was just realizing how many people there are doing more or less just what I'm doing, or some variation of it. Some, it seems, have more or less made a life of it. Some have jobs, some are legal, others are just scraping by doing whatever they can.
On Monday, as I hinted at with yesterday's 1000 words, my friend Traci was in town to visit. Traci used to tend bar at The Grafton on Mondays and I got to know her pretty well. Her fiance is originally from Kilfenora, Co. Clare and they're over here visiting for a bit, after having just moved from Chicago back to her home town of Bethlehem, PA. They came up to Galway for a while on Monday and I had lunch with her and Aidan at The King's Head. It was good to reminisce about Chicago a bit, as well as seeing a familiar face again!
Then last night, we decided that an official house 'night on the town' was in order. Conal, Kesstan, Emma and I headed out and grabbed a few pints at Coili's, then another round at Neachtain's just before they closed. With all the pubs closing up on us (pubs generally close at midnight here, at least during the week.), we headed off to the local club, the Roisin Dubh and proceeded to close that place.
We headed back to the house around 2 and felt that breakfast was in order. Kesstan made up some great scrambled eggs, peppered mackerel, sausage and black pudding--the first black pudding I've had on this particular trip, in fact! That hit the spot, especially washed down with a shot of Jaeger. Heh.
After that, I tried teaching Conal and Kesstan how to play Texas Hold 'Em. It was about 4:15 by the time we all stumbled to bed.
Okay, so maybe it hasn't been that quiet of a week. Maybe it's just that I still can't hear anything due to the ringing in my head from the Roisin Dubh.
I have a few pics of some of us hanging out, but I'm waiting to get some more. I didn't take my camera to the BBQ, unfortunately, but Emma did and I'm hoping to get some of her pics once she gets settled in, so I'll post those when I can.
But as a teaser, here's short clip of Conal (in the foreground with his back to me, playing the fiddle) playing in a session at The Crane the other night. It wasn't a great clip anyways, and uploading it to YouTube made the picture even darker, but at least it's something:
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Sportstalk - Two ups and one down
Wings are into the Conference Finals for the first time since '02, Pistons are up 2 games to 0 on da Bulls!
The last time the Pistons won the title and, if I'm not mistaken, the last *two* times that the Wings won the Cup both came during times when my friend and former roomie Justin was abroad. Here's hoping some of that absentee magic has rubbed off on me!
I just hope the Wings make it into the finals where all the games will be played at fairly normal east coast times. Those'll make for some late nights, but at least its do-able to listen to the games before bed. With those blasted 9 and 10pm EDT starts, just forget about it. Unless I feel like going to bed early and setting my alarm for 4am to catch the end of the game.... Hmmm....
On the down side, I just read that Joel Zumaya is going to be out for three months! Ugh. Hopefully the Tigers can keep in the hunt without him and get a good surge going into the stretch when he gets back.
I miss sports. I need to get to a hurling or rugby or hell even a soccer match. But it won't be the same. Short of fall Saturdays, this is the best time of year for sporting interests back home.
The last time the Pistons won the title and, if I'm not mistaken, the last *two* times that the Wings won the Cup both came during times when my friend and former roomie Justin was abroad. Here's hoping some of that absentee magic has rubbed off on me!
I just hope the Wings make it into the finals where all the games will be played at fairly normal east coast times. Those'll make for some late nights, but at least its do-able to listen to the games before bed. With those blasted 9 and 10pm EDT starts, just forget about it. Unless I feel like going to bed early and setting my alarm for 4am to catch the end of the game.... Hmmm....
On the down side, I just read that Joel Zumaya is going to be out for three months! Ugh. Hopefully the Tigers can keep in the hunt without him and get a good surge going into the stretch when he gets back.
I miss sports. I need to get to a hurling or rugby or hell even a soccer match. But it won't be the same. Short of fall Saturdays, this is the best time of year for sporting interests back home.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Cast of Characters
So who am I sharing this house with? Well, it depends on the day of the week and sometimes even time of day.
Let's see if you can follow the white rabbit through this course:
For most of the past year, the house had four occupants: Aoife, Kesstan, Conal and Brendan. Kesstan moved out a few months ago; Brendan moved out shortly before I arrived. Aoife was on the road for a bit, so for my first week, it was just me and Conal. Aoife returned...then left again for an internship in Sligo for a few weeks. I left for Italy. Kesstan returned to sublet Aoife's room. At some point while I was in Italy, Brendan apparently returned and left again. For this weekend only, Aoife was back in town, crashing in the spare room, giving us a full house (me, Conal, Aoife, Kesstan) for the first time since I've been here. Over the next week and a half or so, Kesstan's leaving again, Aoife's returning, Emma's moving in and Conal's moving out. Beyond that, I haven't a clue, save the possibility that Meg may move in around the time I'm shipping out, but I think we currently have one room unspoken for once the dust settles so someone else may yet move in.
Okay, got the timeline? Good. Here's the cast:
Aoife - hails from New Haven, CT, but turned tales when it came time for college and went to that *other* school up in Cambridge, Mass. (Not cool enough to follow in her father's footsteps and matriculate to that humble little school Ann Arbor, apparently.) She is currently pursuing post-graduate studies in theatre at NUI Galway and running a theatre company which, among other accolades, will be putting on a production at the Edinburgh festival later this summer. She also acts as sort of the de facto 'house mom'/'property manager' in lieue of our absentee landlords.
Conal - in west Philadelphia, born and raised. The playground is where he spent most of his days. Actually, I'm not sure which side of Philly he's from. He's the smart one who decided to do the year-off travelling thing in between high school and college. He's a fine traditional Irish fiddle player, (and has sounded good dabbling with banjo and guitar) and has a wealth of knowledge of the particular styles and musicians of the genre, which has been both enlightening and educational to me. He's heading back to the States in a couple weeks, but is likely returning in the fall for college, probably in the music program at the University of Limerick.
Kesstan - originally from Vermont but has been in LA for quite some time now. She's finishing up her dissertation and tried to explain it to me one night. I smiled and nodded a lot. She decided that while working on her dissertation, her only real requirement was to be close to a good library, so she decided to come out here to do it and just hang out. She makes a killer toasted walnut, cranberry, bleu cheese and pear salad!
Emma - I met Emma for the first time last night, and she is a crazy, spastic little ball of energy and is going to be a riot to have around. She's friends with Aoife through the theatre company, and is originally from County Laois, making her, if you've been paying attention, the first non-American to live here since I've been here. (And I never met him, but I understand that Brendan was American as well).
So there you have it... If I go crazy before I return, those are the individuals most responsible. Seriously, they're all fantastic and we've all gotten along just great. Its been fun living with each of them for whatever sporadic periods of time we've each been together here.
Let's see if you can follow the white rabbit through this course:
For most of the past year, the house had four occupants: Aoife, Kesstan, Conal and Brendan. Kesstan moved out a few months ago; Brendan moved out shortly before I arrived. Aoife was on the road for a bit, so for my first week, it was just me and Conal. Aoife returned...then left again for an internship in Sligo for a few weeks. I left for Italy. Kesstan returned to sublet Aoife's room. At some point while I was in Italy, Brendan apparently returned and left again. For this weekend only, Aoife was back in town, crashing in the spare room, giving us a full house (me, Conal, Aoife, Kesstan) for the first time since I've been here. Over the next week and a half or so, Kesstan's leaving again, Aoife's returning, Emma's moving in and Conal's moving out. Beyond that, I haven't a clue, save the possibility that Meg may move in around the time I'm shipping out, but I think we currently have one room unspoken for once the dust settles so someone else may yet move in.
Okay, got the timeline? Good. Here's the cast:
Aoife - hails from New Haven, CT, but turned tales when it came time for college and went to that *other* school up in Cambridge, Mass. (Not cool enough to follow in her father's footsteps and matriculate to that humble little school Ann Arbor, apparently.) She is currently pursuing post-graduate studies in theatre at NUI Galway and running a theatre company which, among other accolades, will be putting on a production at the Edinburgh festival later this summer. She also acts as sort of the de facto 'house mom'/'property manager' in lieue of our absentee landlords.
Conal - in west Philadelphia, born and raised. The playground is where he spent most of his days. Actually, I'm not sure which side of Philly he's from. He's the smart one who decided to do the year-off travelling thing in between high school and college. He's a fine traditional Irish fiddle player, (and has sounded good dabbling with banjo and guitar) and has a wealth of knowledge of the particular styles and musicians of the genre, which has been both enlightening and educational to me. He's heading back to the States in a couple weeks, but is likely returning in the fall for college, probably in the music program at the University of Limerick.
Kesstan - originally from Vermont but has been in LA for quite some time now. She's finishing up her dissertation and tried to explain it to me one night. I smiled and nodded a lot. She decided that while working on her dissertation, her only real requirement was to be close to a good library, so she decided to come out here to do it and just hang out. She makes a killer toasted walnut, cranberry, bleu cheese and pear salad!
Emma - I met Emma for the first time last night, and she is a crazy, spastic little ball of energy and is going to be a riot to have around. She's friends with Aoife through the theatre company, and is originally from County Laois, making her, if you've been paying attention, the first non-American to live here since I've been here. (And I never met him, but I understand that Brendan was American as well).
So there you have it... If I go crazy before I return, those are the individuals most responsible. Seriously, they're all fantastic and we've all gotten along just great. Its been fun living with each of them for whatever sporadic periods of time we've each been together here.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
So this is what Ireland is supposed to be like
I've been wanting to post about the weather, but have held off for two reasons: 1) it would've only come across as bragging, and 2) it would've surely been a jinx.Well, after 34+ days, most of it spent in a country notorious for wet weather, I'm finally seeing some rain.
My first week in Clare it was cool, but dry and mostly sunny. If I had a nickle for every time I was told that week alone how lucky I was with the weather, my next side-trip would be paid for. When I got to Galway, the clouds started to roll in and I figured I was due. Yet aside from one walk back in barely even a mist, it stayed dry. Even the days that looked cloudy and threatening in the morning cleared up by the afternoon, or alternated between sun and cloud.
In Italy and Germany, the weather could not have been more perfect, except to take a few degrees off the mid-day sun. My second day in Rome was particularly hot, but all the other days were tolerable at their worst, and absolutely perfect in the morning, late afternoon and evening.
I returned to Galway and was treated to four straight days of what I consider the absolute ideal in weather--right around 70-72 degrees, sunny, with a nice light breeze.
Yesterday broke overcast and cool, yet despite threatening all day, barely more than spittled. Even now, the rain is light, but has apparently been pretty constant through the night, and the place is looking wet.
It had to figure as one of my housemates' friends was planning a barbecue today that we were all going to attend. I suspect the plan will go on, but we'll see. Regardless, I have NO room to complain.
But if there's anything to that law of averages, I likely won't see the sun again until I return to the States.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Nice Marmot!
What a better way to wind down the day while munching on tacos and sipping Coronas than to stumble across the best movie ever to mention Port Huron by name on the TV. And I got to listen to the first two periods of the Wings game before dinner and while cooking. Didn't catch the third, but I see we took care of business. Now to just seal the deal on Monday, or somebody's going to cut off their johnson!
Also, it was a pleasant surprise to see that they don't edit movies for TV over here. So we even got to see these scenes:
(Warning: foul language)
Also, it was a pleasant surprise to see that they don't edit movies for TV over here. So we even got to see these scenes:
(Warning: foul language)
Thought for Food
What was the biggest surprise of my trip?
I honestly think I was more impressed with the food in Germany than in Italy.
There, I've said it. I know, I know... I'm ashamed to admit it, too.
But before you string me up for such heresy, let me give some explanation...
First off, I really didn't have any bad food the entire time I was there. Well, there was one little spinach pastry pocket thing from a lunch counter in Venice that still ice cold despite being heated up for me, and an extra-chewy panini from a vendor near the Vatican, but even those were perfectly edible.
A couple factors contributed to my relative disappointment with the food in Italy. The first was expectations. They were just sky high for the food in Italy. It's hard to impress when you're expecting so much, even when what you've got is very, very good, as much of it was.
The next thing was just restaurant selection. Due to a combination of budgetary restraints and a pinch of bad luck, I don't think I found myself at any of a probably-large-number of places that would've met or even exceeded my expectations.
The final factor, which probably had more of an impact than either of the above, was that for the most part I was dining alone. The Italian eating experience is as much about the setting, the conversation, and the company, as it is about the food itself. Sitting around, savoring a full four course meal over a span of a couple hours while talking and laughing with friends or family is one of the finest dining experiences you could get, and any food consumed would taste better in that situation. Unfortunately, sitting alone at a table, whether at an empty restaurant (because you're getting in and out before the rush) or surrounded by groups having the former experience, is not. Those meals, particularly dinners, were really about the only times on the entire trip I could say I felt 'lonely'.
Oh well, it leaves something to anticipate should I ever make it back. And all was not lost, as there was one culinary aspect of Italy that did not disappoint--the gelatto!!
In Germany, on the other hand, I really had no expectations going in. But I like bratwurst. I like sauerkraut. And, as it turns out, I love schnitzel! That was a pleasant surprise, let me tell you. Plus, pretty much each of my meals in Germany was at a fairly traditional beer hall/beer garden, which almost always meant I wasn't sitting alone. Much like the pizzeria in Rome, sharing a table between parties is very common in German beer gardens. Even if I wasn't talking with my table mates so much (fluency in English was not always a given, and even when it was, it never seemed that the folks I was sitting with were interested in much more than a few pleasantries), it was nice to at least not feel like I was sitting there all alone.
Regardless, there were culinary highlights in both countries:
Best pizza - Pizzeria Da Baffeto in Rome, although to be honest, I'm not a huge fan of that super-thin-crust authentic style. It's a nice change of pace, but I had it a few times too many. Baffeto's was the best of the bunch though.
Best pasta - Either the ravioli my last night in Rome or the gnocchi at the place next to my hotel in Florence. Both were great.
Best wine - All of it! But my first night in Florence I found out a 1/2 litre is quite a fair amount for one person. That made for a fairly enjoyable meal! (and at 6 euro for half a litre, its hard to say no to that.)
Best gelatto - Best gelatteria was one in Florence just a few blocks south of the Duomo. On different stops there, I tried the strawberry, coconut, and their 70% pure dark chocolate! All were fantastic, and I could've made a dozen more stops there to try some of the other flavors they had.
Best tiramisu - unfortunately, none. I only had it a couple times, and it was okay. My last night in Venice I trekked out to a place that is supposedly well known for its desserts, and I saw someone at the table near me order a tiramisu that looked fantastic. Apparently it was also the last one. That was an exclamation point on my last dinner in Italy.
Best beer - Hofbrauhaus dunkel (dark)
Best pretzel - Hofbrauhaus (this pretzel, along with the bottom half of the above mentioned beer are visible in my photo highlights)
Best brats - the place I ate at the first night in Munich with Franco.
Best schnitzel - Augustinerbraustuben. Say that 10 times.
Best atmosphere - very tough call. Lunch at the beer garden at the Hofbrauhaus was fantastic! An interior courtyard surrounded by the humongous beer hall, completely shaded by chestnut trees with a nice fountain in the center and a live brass oompah band is tough to beat. As a runner up, my last night in Florence I was at a place on the Piazza di Signora, right across from the city hall, with statues (including a copy of the David, standing where the original stood for many years) all around, and some live street musicians playing just off the corner of the piazza.
Oh, and an honorable mention goes out to the beer tent at Fruhlingsfest. I didn't eat there, though. Just had a beer. But that was just a crazy fun atmosphere and again, had I been travelling with friends, spending a whole evening there could've just been a blast.
I honestly think I was more impressed with the food in Germany than in Italy.
There, I've said it. I know, I know... I'm ashamed to admit it, too.
But before you string me up for such heresy, let me give some explanation...
First off, I really didn't have any bad food the entire time I was there. Well, there was one little spinach pastry pocket thing from a lunch counter in Venice that still ice cold despite being heated up for me, and an extra-chewy panini from a vendor near the Vatican, but even those were perfectly edible.
A couple factors contributed to my relative disappointment with the food in Italy. The first was expectations. They were just sky high for the food in Italy. It's hard to impress when you're expecting so much, even when what you've got is very, very good, as much of it was.
The next thing was just restaurant selection. Due to a combination of budgetary restraints and a pinch of bad luck, I don't think I found myself at any of a probably-large-number of places that would've met or even exceeded my expectations.
The final factor, which probably had more of an impact than either of the above, was that for the most part I was dining alone. The Italian eating experience is as much about the setting, the conversation, and the company, as it is about the food itself. Sitting around, savoring a full four course meal over a span of a couple hours while talking and laughing with friends or family is one of the finest dining experiences you could get, and any food consumed would taste better in that situation. Unfortunately, sitting alone at a table, whether at an empty restaurant (because you're getting in and out before the rush) or surrounded by groups having the former experience, is not. Those meals, particularly dinners, were really about the only times on the entire trip I could say I felt 'lonely'.
Oh well, it leaves something to anticipate should I ever make it back. And all was not lost, as there was one culinary aspect of Italy that did not disappoint--the gelatto!!
In Germany, on the other hand, I really had no expectations going in. But I like bratwurst. I like sauerkraut. And, as it turns out, I love schnitzel! That was a pleasant surprise, let me tell you. Plus, pretty much each of my meals in Germany was at a fairly traditional beer hall/beer garden, which almost always meant I wasn't sitting alone. Much like the pizzeria in Rome, sharing a table between parties is very common in German beer gardens. Even if I wasn't talking with my table mates so much (fluency in English was not always a given, and even when it was, it never seemed that the folks I was sitting with were interested in much more than a few pleasantries), it was nice to at least not feel like I was sitting there all alone.
Regardless, there were culinary highlights in both countries:
Best pizza - Pizzeria Da Baffeto in Rome, although to be honest, I'm not a huge fan of that super-thin-crust authentic style. It's a nice change of pace, but I had it a few times too many. Baffeto's was the best of the bunch though.
Best pasta - Either the ravioli my last night in Rome or the gnocchi at the place next to my hotel in Florence. Both were great.
Best wine - All of it! But my first night in Florence I found out a 1/2 litre is quite a fair amount for one person. That made for a fairly enjoyable meal! (and at 6 euro for half a litre, its hard to say no to that.)
Best gelatto - Best gelatteria was one in Florence just a few blocks south of the Duomo. On different stops there, I tried the strawberry, coconut, and their 70% pure dark chocolate! All were fantastic, and I could've made a dozen more stops there to try some of the other flavors they had.
Best tiramisu - unfortunately, none. I only had it a couple times, and it was okay. My last night in Venice I trekked out to a place that is supposedly well known for its desserts, and I saw someone at the table near me order a tiramisu that looked fantastic. Apparently it was also the last one. That was an exclamation point on my last dinner in Italy.
Best beer - Hofbrauhaus dunkel (dark)
Best pretzel - Hofbrauhaus (this pretzel, along with the bottom half of the above mentioned beer are visible in my photo highlights)
Best brats - the place I ate at the first night in Munich with Franco.
Best schnitzel - Augustinerbraustuben. Say that 10 times.
Best atmosphere - very tough call. Lunch at the beer garden at the Hofbrauhaus was fantastic! An interior courtyard surrounded by the humongous beer hall, completely shaded by chestnut trees with a nice fountain in the center and a live brass oompah band is tough to beat. As a runner up, my last night in Florence I was at a place on the Piazza di Signora, right across from the city hall, with statues (including a copy of the David, standing where the original stood for many years) all around, and some live street musicians playing just off the corner of the piazza.
Oh, and an honorable mention goes out to the beer tent at Fruhlingsfest. I didn't eat there, though. Just had a beer. But that was just a crazy fun atmosphere and again, had I been travelling with friends, spending a whole evening there could've just been a blast.
Congrats to Pat - visitor 1000!
While making new, brief freindships is one of the best things about travelling alone, one of the worst is not having anyone to share your thoughts with along the way and in-the-moment. That is one of the reasons I've been so active in maintaining this blog. You guys ARE my travelling companions. Thanks!
Edward Norton called them "Single-serving friends"
One of the best things about travelling alone is that I tend to get a bit more bold than I normally would in chatting it up with random strangers. To be fair, in most cases, this means other (North) Americans who, as soon as I overhear them speak, I know I likely have more in common with me than most of the other folks around.
"So where are you from?" is a very easy ice breaker, and led to many pleasant conversations of varying lengths. At tourist sites, in restaurants, on trains... single folk, couples, families, groups of friends... Anytime there were Americans (or an occasional Canadian) nearby and a convenient moment broke where I felt I wouldn't be intruding too much, I'd pop that question and see where it led.
Occasionally it was close to home... A woman on Murano (another outlying Venetian island) asked me for directions, as she was trying to find the shortest path for her elderly parents to the nearest vaporetti stop. They lived in New Orleans, but were originally from the Kalamazoo area. Her parents were both MSU grads, so we exchanged friendly barbs while chatting.
Of course a few days earlier, as I mentioned before, I had run into a family with a college-aged kid wearing a Michigan hat and an Ashley's T-Shirt, who, it turned out, had been born in Port Huron. I'd also exchanged a "GO BLUE" with a guy in the Rome train station who was double-decking (hat and shirt) his Maize and Blue pride.
My first night in Rome, I ate at Pizzeria Da Baffeto, which was highly recommended by the guidebooks and a few acquaintances. Though the place was half empty, they directed me to the one empty seat at a table already seating three. 'Awkward', I thought at first, but I got to chatting with my table-mates--a couple from North Carolina, and a fellow from Ireland (who is currently doing more or less what I'm doing, but living in Turkey.). It much was better than dining alone. (And, for the record, by the time we were done, the place was packed!)
Often, it'd seem the places of origin would tend to clump up. The first day a family from Colorado was trekking down from the Dome of St. Peters right behind me (the couple in front of me were from Wisconsin, btw). On the bus on the way back to the hotel that night, I got chatting with Jen and Jenna, who were also from Colorado. The next day was "Portland Day"--a couple about my age that was on my tour group for the Colosseum and Palatine, and a middle-aged man who was the only other patron in the restaurant I had dinner in that night were all from Portland.
There was another couple also staying at the same hotel who I was on the shuttle bus with the second night coming back and the third morning going out. They were originally from California, but he was in the Air Force and had been stationed in Italy for a while. This was their last chance to tour around the country before he was heading back to the States. Very pleasant folks, and they helped to ease my concern about my upcoming rookie experience with European rail travel.
In Florence, there was an older couple dining near me who had strayed from the flock of their organized tour group for the evening. They turned out to be from Barrington (a Chicago suburb and home of one of my co-workers).
One of the best meal-time cross-table conversation was at lunch on my last day in Venice with four girls (two from Arizona, one from Pennsylvania and the fourth from Australia) who are studying in Glasgow right now. We chatted for quite some time while waiting for our slow (even by Italian standards) waiter. I asked them for ideas for my trip to Scotland next month, and offered them a few suggestions around Venice, as they were just getting in and I was at the end of my stint there.
And then there were the lengthy train rides. Eight hours from Florence to Munich and another eight back down to Venice. The trip to Venice was an overnight, so we spent more time sleeping (or trying anyways) than chatting, but one guy was a young French-Canadian who is living in Dublin for a year and travelling around in his spare time (by the way, he could be Tom Brady's stunt double) and the other was an Indian fellow who was studying in Munich while his wife was studying in Trieste (near Venice). They apparently enjoy many brief weekends together in Venice.
Now the train ride up to Munich, however, in addition to being through stunningly beautiful terrain, was also the seed for probably my most interesting acquaintances, and my only really extended conversations with non-American/Canadians.
For the better part of the trip, my compartment consisted of three people: Myself, Martina, and Franco. Franco was from southern Italy and was heading up to Munich to work for a few months. He knew a little German, but his English was only slightly better than my Italian. Fortunately, there was Martina, an Austrian who was heading home on a break from her study abroad program in Italy. Martina was fluent in both English and Italian, in addition to her native German. She engaged both Franco and I in various conversations, and helped to facilitate a few conversations among all three of us, including a fun one about politics and US foreign policy. (for the record, as long as you convey a dislike of Bush, it seems you'll have no problems.)
Through Martina's interpretations I got that Franco also did not have a room arranged in Munich for that night, and wanted to know if I wanted find a hotel with him. The details of the exact arrangement he had in mind were somewhat fuzzy in translation, so I stayed fairly non-committal about it. He seemed like a nice and decent enough guy, and to tell the truth, I was thinking it'd be nice to have a travelling companion for a bit, but at the same time, extra caution was running through my mind.
Well, it was fun talking with the both of them, but Martina got off in Innsbruck, leaving Franco and I to attempt to communicate in a combination of select English, Italian, German and hand gestures.
He managed to re-iterate his interest in sticking together in Munich to find a room. When we got off the train, he'd apparently been there before, so I somewhat hesitantly followed his lead, though I was prepared to scoot out the instant anything looked too suspicious.
Well, as it turned out, he led me into the worst experience of the entire trip, but it was completely none of his fault! Yes, it was he who found us the hostel, and when we got there and got checked in, I was feeling pretty good about the whole situation. We dropped off our bags and then headed into town to grab some food and a beer together.
The table conversation was only minimally better than dining alone, but at least it was an improvement. He conveyed an interest in walking around and seeing the town together the next day, and I once again stayed agreeable, but non-committal.
After that, we walked around town a bit before heading back to the hostel. I peeled off then to find a net cafe and met him back in the bar at the hostel a while later. He took off early from that, presumably to go to bed, but when I headed into the dorm an hour or so later, he wasn't in his bunk, so lord only knows what he was up to.
Well, what happened next has been covered already. When I woke in the morning I lied there contemplating my next steps. I'd just been through one of the most miserable nights I'd known and was faced with two choices: get up quietly and ditch my new friend to wander around town all by my lonesome once again, or try and rouse him as well and convey a mutual interest in hanging out and seeing the sights together.
It's a tough call, whether it's more enjoyable to spend time alone (when I'd already been spending a large amount of time alone) or with someone I didn't really know and furthermore, have little ability to communicate with. On the one hand, new friendships, particularly those born out of such strange circumstances, can be some of the most interesting and entertaining, aside from the simple fact that company is always welcome to a lonely traveller. But, at the same time, I knew I wouldn't be able to let my guard down and really relax, and going on such little sleep as I was due to the night before, I reluctantly opted to enjoy and appreciate the time we'd spent hanging out the day before, but to move on alone.
I did cross paths with Franco in the morning as I was gathering my stuff from the locker and indicated I was going out to find a new room. Whether he understood that, or knew that we wouldn't be seeing each other again, I don't know.
My last exchange started with a young woman as we were waiting for our flight back to Shannon. She was another Portland-area native, but she and her husband were living in Limerick. As we got chatting, I found out that her husband was an uilleann piper, who'd been taught by the fine Chicago piper Kieran O'Hare, and he knew many of the Chicago-area trad scene people, as well as Seamus and Marie, the owners of my house.
Such random coincidences, particularly when the joining circle is the community of traditional Irish musicians, is becoming such a common place that its hardly surprising anymore, yet always still amusing. Regardless, they were both very nice folks, and for the record, Eliot is a fairly accomplished piper in his own right.
So many conversations, so many different perspectives and backgrounds, and yet all with one common interest--to see and enjoy the world that we live in. It was very rare that folks weren't willing and happy to engage in some quick banter, and it was also a great way to exchange tips and suggestions on the areas we were in and going to. Many of the conversations were brief, with a lot of them never even progressing to exchanging names. Yet in a few cases where the conversations were a bit longer and richer, I'd jot down my email and this blog address and pass it along. You never know.
Already as of yesterday, I've already heard from two of my new acquaintances, so who knows... maybe some of these "single-serving" friendships will find themselves crossing paths again someday for a second or even third course.
I am Jack's tired typing fingers.
"So where are you from?" is a very easy ice breaker, and led to many pleasant conversations of varying lengths. At tourist sites, in restaurants, on trains... single folk, couples, families, groups of friends... Anytime there were Americans (or an occasional Canadian) nearby and a convenient moment broke where I felt I wouldn't be intruding too much, I'd pop that question and see where it led.
Occasionally it was close to home... A woman on Murano (another outlying Venetian island) asked me for directions, as she was trying to find the shortest path for her elderly parents to the nearest vaporetti stop. They lived in New Orleans, but were originally from the Kalamazoo area. Her parents were both MSU grads, so we exchanged friendly barbs while chatting.
Of course a few days earlier, as I mentioned before, I had run into a family with a college-aged kid wearing a Michigan hat and an Ashley's T-Shirt, who, it turned out, had been born in Port Huron. I'd also exchanged a "GO BLUE" with a guy in the Rome train station who was double-decking (hat and shirt) his Maize and Blue pride.
My first night in Rome, I ate at Pizzeria Da Baffeto, which was highly recommended by the guidebooks and a few acquaintances. Though the place was half empty, they directed me to the one empty seat at a table already seating three. 'Awkward', I thought at first, but I got to chatting with my table-mates--a couple from North Carolina, and a fellow from Ireland (who is currently doing more or less what I'm doing, but living in Turkey.). It much was better than dining alone. (And, for the record, by the time we were done, the place was packed!)
Often, it'd seem the places of origin would tend to clump up. The first day a family from Colorado was trekking down from the Dome of St. Peters right behind me (the couple in front of me were from Wisconsin, btw). On the bus on the way back to the hotel that night, I got chatting with Jen and Jenna, who were also from Colorado. The next day was "Portland Day"--a couple about my age that was on my tour group for the Colosseum and Palatine, and a middle-aged man who was the only other patron in the restaurant I had dinner in that night were all from Portland.
There was another couple also staying at the same hotel who I was on the shuttle bus with the second night coming back and the third morning going out. They were originally from California, but he was in the Air Force and had been stationed in Italy for a while. This was their last chance to tour around the country before he was heading back to the States. Very pleasant folks, and they helped to ease my concern about my upcoming rookie experience with European rail travel.
In Florence, there was an older couple dining near me who had strayed from the flock of their organized tour group for the evening. They turned out to be from Barrington (a Chicago suburb and home of one of my co-workers).
One of the best meal-time cross-table conversation was at lunch on my last day in Venice with four girls (two from Arizona, one from Pennsylvania and the fourth from Australia) who are studying in Glasgow right now. We chatted for quite some time while waiting for our slow (even by Italian standards) waiter. I asked them for ideas for my trip to Scotland next month, and offered them a few suggestions around Venice, as they were just getting in and I was at the end of my stint there.
And then there were the lengthy train rides. Eight hours from Florence to Munich and another eight back down to Venice. The trip to Venice was an overnight, so we spent more time sleeping (or trying anyways) than chatting, but one guy was a young French-Canadian who is living in Dublin for a year and travelling around in his spare time (by the way, he could be Tom Brady's stunt double) and the other was an Indian fellow who was studying in Munich while his wife was studying in Trieste (near Venice). They apparently enjoy many brief weekends together in Venice.
Now the train ride up to Munich, however, in addition to being through stunningly beautiful terrain, was also the seed for probably my most interesting acquaintances, and my only really extended conversations with non-American/Canadians.
For the better part of the trip, my compartment consisted of three people: Myself, Martina, and Franco. Franco was from southern Italy and was heading up to Munich to work for a few months. He knew a little German, but his English was only slightly better than my Italian. Fortunately, there was Martina, an Austrian who was heading home on a break from her study abroad program in Italy. Martina was fluent in both English and Italian, in addition to her native German. She engaged both Franco and I in various conversations, and helped to facilitate a few conversations among all three of us, including a fun one about politics and US foreign policy. (for the record, as long as you convey a dislike of Bush, it seems you'll have no problems.)
Through Martina's interpretations I got that Franco also did not have a room arranged in Munich for that night, and wanted to know if I wanted find a hotel with him. The details of the exact arrangement he had in mind were somewhat fuzzy in translation, so I stayed fairly non-committal about it. He seemed like a nice and decent enough guy, and to tell the truth, I was thinking it'd be nice to have a travelling companion for a bit, but at the same time, extra caution was running through my mind.
Well, it was fun talking with the both of them, but Martina got off in Innsbruck, leaving Franco and I to attempt to communicate in a combination of select English, Italian, German and hand gestures.
He managed to re-iterate his interest in sticking together in Munich to find a room. When we got off the train, he'd apparently been there before, so I somewhat hesitantly followed his lead, though I was prepared to scoot out the instant anything looked too suspicious.
Well, as it turned out, he led me into the worst experience of the entire trip, but it was completely none of his fault! Yes, it was he who found us the hostel, and when we got there and got checked in, I was feeling pretty good about the whole situation. We dropped off our bags and then headed into town to grab some food and a beer together.
The table conversation was only minimally better than dining alone, but at least it was an improvement. He conveyed an interest in walking around and seeing the town together the next day, and I once again stayed agreeable, but non-committal.
After that, we walked around town a bit before heading back to the hostel. I peeled off then to find a net cafe and met him back in the bar at the hostel a while later. He took off early from that, presumably to go to bed, but when I headed into the dorm an hour or so later, he wasn't in his bunk, so lord only knows what he was up to.
Well, what happened next has been covered already. When I woke in the morning I lied there contemplating my next steps. I'd just been through one of the most miserable nights I'd known and was faced with two choices: get up quietly and ditch my new friend to wander around town all by my lonesome once again, or try and rouse him as well and convey a mutual interest in hanging out and seeing the sights together.
It's a tough call, whether it's more enjoyable to spend time alone (when I'd already been spending a large amount of time alone) or with someone I didn't really know and furthermore, have little ability to communicate with. On the one hand, new friendships, particularly those born out of such strange circumstances, can be some of the most interesting and entertaining, aside from the simple fact that company is always welcome to a lonely traveller. But, at the same time, I knew I wouldn't be able to let my guard down and really relax, and going on such little sleep as I was due to the night before, I reluctantly opted to enjoy and appreciate the time we'd spent hanging out the day before, but to move on alone.
I did cross paths with Franco in the morning as I was gathering my stuff from the locker and indicated I was going out to find a new room. Whether he understood that, or knew that we wouldn't be seeing each other again, I don't know.
My last exchange started with a young woman as we were waiting for our flight back to Shannon. She was another Portland-area native, but she and her husband were living in Limerick. As we got chatting, I found out that her husband was an uilleann piper, who'd been taught by the fine Chicago piper Kieran O'Hare, and he knew many of the Chicago-area trad scene people, as well as Seamus and Marie, the owners of my house.
Such random coincidences, particularly when the joining circle is the community of traditional Irish musicians, is becoming such a common place that its hardly surprising anymore, yet always still amusing. Regardless, they were both very nice folks, and for the record, Eliot is a fairly accomplished piper in his own right.
So many conversations, so many different perspectives and backgrounds, and yet all with one common interest--to see and enjoy the world that we live in. It was very rare that folks weren't willing and happy to engage in some quick banter, and it was also a great way to exchange tips and suggestions on the areas we were in and going to. Many of the conversations were brief, with a lot of them never even progressing to exchanging names. Yet in a few cases where the conversations were a bit longer and richer, I'd jot down my email and this blog address and pass it along. You never know.
Already as of yesterday, I've already heard from two of my new acquaintances, so who knows... maybe some of these "single-serving" friendships will find themselves crossing paths again someday for a second or even third course.
I am Jack's tired typing fingers.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Small pleasures
Got a beard trimmer and my goatee now no longer resembles a small jungle. Also picked up a small rolling caddy with pull out drawers that, at least for now, alleviates my storage problem and is also doubling as a functional desk. If I can scrounge up a board to put on top, it'll be better still. Having the extra drawers allowed me to clean up my room which had been a pig sty since I got back.
Now off to hang another load of laundry on the line and see if I can figure out this lawnmower enough to cut the 4'x15' or so of front lawn that we've got.
Now off to hang another load of laundry on the line and see if I can figure out this lawnmower enough to cut the 4'x15' or so of front lawn that we've got.
Are you my 1000th visitor?
At the very bottom of this page I have a hit counter, (currently at 974). Scroll down and have a look. If it happens to read "1000", congrats! You're my 1000th visitor! Take a screenshot (use the "Prnt Scrn" button--may need to use shift or control, depending on your keyboard--to copy the screen to the clipboard, then Ctrl-V to paste it into Paint, Word, or maybe even directly into your email window, depending on your email app) and email it to me along with your address, and I'll send you a prize. Of some sort. But guaranteed to be from Ireland!
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Off-topic, but had to share
"Trophies may become tarnished, the gleam of our medals lose luster. But the emotional experiences of joy and elation, heartaches and disappointments can never be shared by others" -Fritz Crisler, re-iterated by Keith Jackson at the end of this video:
I think my tape of that game must've cut off before that closing sentiment by Jackson, as I don't think I'd ever heard it before, despite having watched the game many, many times. Thanks to Brian at MGoBlog for the link.
121 days 'till kickoff! GO BLUE!
Photos are up!
That was quite an undertaking, but I've now got all the photos uploaded. (Well, 335 out of the 520 some total that I took. As if 335 isnt' bad enough.)
They're broken down into 12 different sets for easier perusing on Flickr, all listed here.
Here are some highlights, though:
Sunset over the Shannon River estuary just after departure.
Looking up at the dome of St. Peter's Basilica at The Vatican.
A contraband shot of The Last Judgement on the back wall of the Sistene Chapel. Busted before I could get a shot of the ceiling.
Looking out over The Vatican and old Rome from the top of St. Peter's.
The Duomo in Florence.
No photo could come close to capturing the beauty of the Alps in northern Italy and Austria on the train ride up to Munich.
Downtown Munich from their own "St. Peter's".
Lunch at Hofbrauhaus!
Beer tent at Frülingsfest - The spring version of Oktoberfest.
The Ulm Münster - tallest cathederal spire in the world. 768 steps to the top.
Gondolas on the Grand Canal, Venice.
A cool sailing dingy in the Venice lagoon near the island of Burano.
Colorful homes and handmade lace are the trademarks of the fishing village on Burano.
They're broken down into 12 different sets for easier perusing on Flickr, all listed here.
Here are some highlights, though:
Sunset over the Shannon River estuary just after departure.
Looking up at the dome of St. Peter's Basilica at The Vatican.
A contraband shot of The Last Judgement on the back wall of the Sistene Chapel. Busted before I could get a shot of the ceiling.
Looking out over The Vatican and old Rome from the top of St. Peter's.
The Duomo in Florence.
No photo could come close to capturing the beauty of the Alps in northern Italy and Austria on the train ride up to Munich.
Downtown Munich from their own "St. Peter's".
Lunch at Hofbrauhaus!
Beer tent at Frülingsfest - The spring version of Oktoberfest.
The Ulm Münster - tallest cathederal spire in the world. 768 steps to the top.
Gondolas on the Grand Canal, Venice.
A cool sailing dingy in the Venice lagoon near the island of Burano.
Colorful homes and handmade lace are the trademarks of the fishing village on Burano.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Introducing Robert Thompson (Beef Farmer)
I've got a bunch of stuff from the trip that I still want to get up here, and I'm getting close to having all my pictures loaded up, but as I said, it's the odd little things that I like to post about "in-the-moment" whenever possible.
I opted for a cheap indulgence for lunch this afternoon on my way to the store: McDonald's. Fyi, it's not all that 'cheap': €6, (about $8.15!) for a Big Mac meal, and that's not even Biggie Sized.
But anyways, I found the paper insert in the tray mildly amusing, so I folded it up and brought it back with me. It has a picture of a guy standing out in a field among his cows against a typically dreary light-grey Irish sky. Certainly not a photo that they put a lot of creative direction into. Next to the photo is the following text:
Not sure why, but I just found that amusing. Again, as Vincent Vega said, its "the little differences".
Along similar lines, here's a couple other quick, odd thoughts from the grocery store:
I opted for a cheap indulgence for lunch this afternoon on my way to the store: McDonald's. Fyi, it's not all that 'cheap': €6, (about $8.15!) for a Big Mac meal, and that's not even Biggie Sized.
But anyways, I found the paper insert in the tray mildly amusing, so I folded it up and brought it back with me. It has a picture of a guy standing out in a field among his cows against a typically dreary light-grey Irish sky. Certainly not a photo that they put a lot of creative direction into. Next to the photo is the following text:
INTRODUCING
ROBERT THOMPSON
(Beef Farmer)
Hi I'm Robert. I am a third generation beef farmer from County Laois where my family has been farming for over 120 years.
My Father and Grandfather farmed the same land as I do today. I am one of many farmers across Ireland that supply McDonalds with the 100% pure Irish beef that goes into their hamburgers.
I have 80 cattle and they spend most of the season out in the fields grazing. I am delighted that McDonald's use my cattle for their burgers.
Not sure why, but I just found that amusing. Again, as Vincent Vega said, its "the little differences".
Along similar lines, here's a couple other quick, odd thoughts from the grocery store:
- I'm officially succombing to European culture: I bought a jar of Nutella. (Chocolate hazelnut spread... It's kind of the closest thing they have to peanut butter over here.)
- Rather than having an item limit for the express lanes, they have "sweet free" lanes. An incentive to try and get people to eat healthier, I suppose. I wondered if Nutella counted as a sweet.
- Most of the stuff in the stores is pretty much the same as you'll find here, though some brands differ. But one thing that seems popular that I've never seen back home are pre-made pancakes. Yup, just walk in, pick up a plastic-wrapped package of 4, 6 or 8 pancakes, heat them up in the microwave or on the stove and you've got yourself a breakfast!
- They appear to have a full line of Old El Paso products. I think a Cinco De Mayo feast may be in order this weekend.
"Who's 'scruffy-looking'???"
So I don't think I mentioned it at the time, but shortly after I got here, my beard trimmer (which, btw, I bought the day before I left) had the honor of being the first--and hopefully last--electronic device that I toasted due to the voltage difference over here.
It was silly, really. I knew it was only 110 compatible, but I plugged it into an adapter that I momentarily forgot was only an adapter, not a converter as well. Oops.
A few minutes, a quick pop and a funny smell later, and I'm now growing a month-old goatee.
I've been tempted to just let it grow wild and scraggly to be all hippied-out, but its starting to drive me nuts.
I think a new beard trimmer is next up on my shopping list.
It was silly, really. I knew it was only 110 compatible, but I plugged it into an adapter that I momentarily forgot was only an adapter, not a converter as well. Oops.
A few minutes, a quick pop and a funny smell later, and I'm now growing a month-old goatee.
I've been tempted to just let it grow wild and scraggly to be all hippied-out, but its starting to drive me nuts.
I think a new beard trimmer is next up on my shopping list.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Next up: Normandy
Despite having already blown through my entire "travel" budget and then some, with a planned trip to Scotland and/or Wales yet to come in June, I'll dip into the coffers and try and scrounge up a little work to help make up the difference. There are too many things that are important for me to see, and I'm not sure when I'll get a better chance to see some of them.
Along those lines, and trying to squeeze the most out of my time and monetary budget, I decided to move quickly and today booked what will be a short, but emotionally intense trip to Normandy later this month.
Unfortunately, it looks like Paris will wait for another time. Ryan Air's "Paris" flights actually fly into Beauvais, a town about 30 miles northwest of Paris. But as I'm sort of "big-city'd" and "art museum'd" -out right now, and I'm on a time and money budget crunch, that'll work just fine.
I'm renting a car in Beauvais, which is about a 3 hour drive from the heart of Normandy. I'll have about two days to explore the region before heading back to Beauvais. It's not much, but any more than that would probably be emotional overload anyways.
If anyone has any particular suggestions on books or other material I might try and pick up to help enhance my appreciation and respect for what I'll be seeing, please let me know. We happen to have a copy of Band of Brothers on DVD here at the house, so I'll start by rewatching some of that, but anything with a bit more historical detail would be appreciated.
Along those lines, and trying to squeeze the most out of my time and monetary budget, I decided to move quickly and today booked what will be a short, but emotionally intense trip to Normandy later this month.
Unfortunately, it looks like Paris will wait for another time. Ryan Air's "Paris" flights actually fly into Beauvais, a town about 30 miles northwest of Paris. But as I'm sort of "big-city'd" and "art museum'd" -out right now, and I'm on a time and money budget crunch, that'll work just fine.
I'm renting a car in Beauvais, which is about a 3 hour drive from the heart of Normandy. I'll have about two days to explore the region before heading back to Beauvais. It's not much, but any more than that would probably be emotional overload anyways.
If anyone has any particular suggestions on books or other material I might try and pick up to help enhance my appreciation and respect for what I'll be seeing, please let me know. We happen to have a copy of Band of Brothers on DVD here at the house, so I'll start by rewatching some of that, but anything with a bit more historical detail would be appreciated.
Another quick Venetian thought
If you ever travel to Venice, at least during the summer months. Make sure that where ever you're staying has air conditioning or screens in the window. Mine had neither. It was fairly warm in the rooms, so I kept the windows open at night... Pleasant, or so it seemed.
But what do places with a lot of surface water also tend to have a lot of?
Mosquitoes.
My arms are covered with bites right now and itching up a storm. And that's nothing to say of the whining buzzing in your ear that'll keep you up if you're a light sleeper.
But what do places with a lot of surface water also tend to have a lot of?
Mosquitoes.
My arms are covered with bites right now and itching up a storm. And that's nothing to say of the whining buzzing in your ear that'll keep you up if you're a light sleeper.
Back at last
Back to a familiar keyboard, and an interface in English.
Dead tired, but I think I'll tune into the Wings game for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep, just because I can.
Dead tired, but I think I'll tune into the Wings game for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep, just because I can.
Okay, I lied (aka "Hurry Up and Wait")
Now back on Irish soil, but in the terminal at Shannon. My bus back up to Galway doesn't leave until 1:15am, and then it's an hour and a half ride up there. There's not much to do in the terminal in Shannon at midnight on a Monday night.
Too bad my laptop's in Galway... free wifi zone in the whole airport.
But that reminds me of one more of those small, random thoughts I had while meandering around Ulm the other day. It would've been even more poignant of a point had I chosen to go to Salzburg, rather than staying in Germany.
You see, I left my bags in a luggage locker in the train station in Munich. So here I was wandering around this foreign city, with all my worldly possessions save for my passport, a couple credit cards, my camera, and the clothes on my back, spread out across three different countries and at least five different cities!
Kind of a strange sensation when you think about it.
Too bad my laptop's in Galway... free wifi zone in the whole airport.
But that reminds me of one more of those small, random thoughts I had while meandering around Ulm the other day. It would've been even more poignant of a point had I chosen to go to Salzburg, rather than staying in Germany.
You see, I left my bags in a luggage locker in the train station in Munich. So here I was wandering around this foreign city, with all my worldly possessions save for my passport, a couple credit cards, my camera, and the clothes on my back, spread out across three different countries and at least five different cities!
Kind of a strange sensation when you think about it.
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