About to hop in the shower...

...and speaking of such, Caelus just asked in the comments below about my experience with showers over here.

Glad you asked, because it reminded me of one more small observation I've been meaning to post about since I got over here.

But first, showers in general... Caelus and his wife just returned from Italy, and found the showers to be roughly the size of a small phonebooth. Yes, my friend, that is very common across Europe. I think the smallest shower I had was in my room in Venice. The entire shower plus bathroom was smaller than many closets back in the US (and FAR smaller than the mid-sized cave that was my closet in my room in Chicago for those who were familiar with it). But many others in Ireland, Scotland and other places are not any different.

I'll add that size aside, the best shower I had in my entire time over here was at the Bayfield Backpackers Hostel in Portree, Isle of Skye. Clean, great temperature control and water pressure like a firehose!

The other interesting thing about showers over here is that most of them are electrically operated. There's often a switch on the wall (often *outside* the bathroom) that has to be turned on to operate it, then a dial or button to turn on the water. Some, like ours here at the house, make this gawdawful racket when they're operating. The room I was in until Conal left was right against the shower wall, and when someone turned that sucker on in the morning, there was no more sleep to be had.

Now, one more bit about our shower here that has amused me on a nearly daily basis:

Our shower is not tiny. Not huge, but not a phonebooth, either. Rather, its a normal (well, okay, smallish) tub, with a shower unit on the wall. The shower unit is on the back wall, near one end of the tub though, rather than being on the end wall like you might normally find it. The result being when you're standing in the shower with your back to the unit, you're facing out staring at the shower curtain, instead of the other end of the tub.

Our shower curtain has fish on it. Fish with assorted colors and patterns. This is the fish that is directly at eye level such that I spend most of my shower staring at it:



Notice anything funny about the pattern on the crown of his head, particularly? Now, wanna tell me this whole thing wasn't just meant to be???

Back to packing...

...and it STILL sucks!

So that's what Irish ex-pats feel like on St. Patty's Day in the States?

Well, not quite for sure, but it was a just slightly tweaked experience, if only in its seemingly forced-gratuitousness-yet-ultimately-ignored sort of way.

I went to the premiere of Aoife and Emma's short plays tonight at the Bank of Ireland Theatre on the campus of the NUI Galway. They plays, two original shorts produced by the company that Aoife and Emma are founding members of, were brilliant, by the way. Aoife directed both, Emma acted in both. But that's an aside for now.

Afterwards, we went to the "College Bar", which is, in fact, a bar that's right on the campus, next to the theatre. The campus is very much isolated from the city pub scene, so think of it as like a student union, but with beer (any Wisconsin grads reading this, think of it as like your student union, but without the lake).

Anyways, up on the walls surrounding the bar were red, white and blue balloons and streamers. There were two large, flat panel TVs on the wall above the bar, and a large projection screen at the end. All three were looping a video which kept projecting "4th of July" in large, cartoonishly star-spangled letters, followed by clips of fireworks and assorted images from around the US, the first of which was unmistakeably, in a paradoxically intriguing twist to my observation basis, the Chicago river, dyed bright green for St. Pat's.

For what its worth, I did not notice any particularly pro-American stuff in any other places around town. I suspect the college bar did it out of respect to the very large portion of the student body that are American. Not like the other day when a quick look around Shop Street revealed that about every fifth person had a Canadian flag painted on their face.

Apple pie and baseball

A few quick thoughts on things I'm looking forward to in the days, weeks and months ahead, in no particular order...

Chicago style pizza. A fresh load of laundry warm right out of the dryer. A glass of tap water. Going to Comerica Park to see the Tigers. Sailing on Lake St. Clair. BBQing with friends, and meeting some new additions to their families. Decent burgers. Catching up on TV shows. Poker games. Sitting on the deck of the boat sipping a dark-n-stormy. Weather warm enough for Teva's and shorts. Wearing the rest of my wardrobe. Greenbacks (and making some again). Monday Lunch Meetings. The Grafton, and bringing some new tunes to the session there. Hitting up the session at Conor O'Neill's. New Harry Potter--movie 5 and book 7. Buying a house. Ann Arbor in the fall. Gameday weekends at my new house in town?

And of course, seeing the look on my nephew's face when I first see him again, and the disbelief in how big he and his baby brother have gotten in the past three months. And joyful embraces from the rest of my family as well.

Final change in plans. For sure this time.

Yes, that was an intentional bit of foreshadowing when I re-iterated my indecisiveness in my last post. I had to check some things, but it's now official:

I'm coming home on Friday.

Staying last week was the right decision. I had to see about some things. They didn't work out, and I guess I at least thought it'd take a bit longer to find that out, but things go the way they go. But I'll never regret staying to find out out, regardless. And, for what its worth, the situation is ending on a mutually amicable and respectful note, rather than one of bitterness and anger, as it very easily could've.

But now, it is time to come home. Staying another two weeks is not going to change anything, and my overall mood has been one of a longing to be home. I really now think that was the reason I was meant to stay--to want to come home. Last Friday, I didn't want to leave. While I'll still be sorry to see this fantastic chapter of my life come to a close, I won't be dragged kicking and screaming from it as I would've been had I left when I had originally planned.

For those of you who know me in real life... family, close friends, co-workers... I can't wait to see you all again very soon. For anyone who I don't know, but who has enjoyed reading this, drop me a line if you're ever in the Port Huron, Dearborn, Ann Arbor or Chicago areas, as I expect I'll be spending plenty of time between those locales... I'd love to meet all of you and would be glad to share some tales from the road in person.

And if any of you happen to be a beautiful, young, single woman who would admire a well-travelled, introspective, funny, creative, passionate, hopeless romantic who would literally turn around just yards from the bus stop with all his luggage in tow before hopping back across the globe on the mere chance that there could be something special... well then, what the hell are you waiting for???

This weather is starting to drive me nuts

Seriously.

I didn't know that I'd sold my soul to the devil to get the fantastically, improbably dry April that I had when I first got here. Or maybe someone else did it and brought us all down with them. But we're now going on at least 2-3 weeks since there's been a single complete day without any rain. It's really a bit of a bummer.

And frustrating too, because it's so spotty. So many times recently I've left the house without my umbrella or rain jacket because it seemed like it was going to be nice out, only to regret it later. Or else I take it along and end up carrying around town for no reason. There's no winning.

Just now I was down at a coffee shop and overheard one of the girls at the counter telling the other she'd read in the paper that this was the wettest June here since 1950. And in Ireland, that's really saying something.

Walking out of there, I was going to wander around town some more, but the wind and the rain kicking up made me decide that coming back to the house to get long sleeves would be a good idea. Of course by the time I got back to the house 5 minutes later, it's sunny and warm and long sleeves would be overkill.

Indecisiveness seems to be a strong common theme in my life here recently, and the weather is no exception.

I'm not sure I'd ever believe that I'd be longing for the nasty, humid heat of a midwest summer...

Tons of new photos are up

I'm not going to link all the sets individually, as there's about 11 new sets encompassing the remainder of Nathan and Justin's visit to Ireland, our time in Scotland, the Salthill Airshow, and my road trip to Dublin and Northern Ireland last week.

There are some really cool shots in there, IMHO, particularly the Isle of Skye set and the Road Trip Part II set, so it's work a look:

Flickr Me!

Recap

So yeah. I'm still here in Galway. This was not a creative ploy, cute practical joke or a strange dream. I seriously changed my mind at the last second and decided to stay and re-booked my flight for July 19th.

There were a whole myriad of reasons and signs telling me that staying was the right thing, and in the end, I'm sure it was. The biggest of them though is something that's rather personal and I'm not comfortable going into a lot of detail in a public forum, at least not right now. But that's also been pre-occupying most of my thought process lately, and since this space is normally just a place to dump out that thought process, it's left me with little to write about here. We'll just say it involves a girl and a what appears to be a much longer shot chance than it should be, and leave it at that.

But at the end of the day, at least I can say I tried and what a story it will make someday.

In the meanwhile, I've been trying to make the most of my extra time here. I played in a session at the Crane the other day, and for a bit last night at An Pucan, another great trad pub that I hadn't even been to previously. I'm also trying to ween myself back into being ready for some real tech work by helping update the web site for my housemates' theatre company, as their next production goes on stage later this week.

Give it a look and if anyone in Galway happens to read this, I strongly encourage you to come out and support the folks in this production:

Mephisto Theatre Company

The Two Paths

Walking down the cobblestone pedestrian-only mainstreet, a light rain falling, dampening none of the spirit on the night street. Musicians playing in front of every third darkened shop stoop mingle with crowds overflowing from Tigh Coili's and Taaffe's, standing in the street, sipping their pints under the cheerful drizzle while still more music wafts out the doors behind the smokers and the early-to-bedders. A puppeteer is still performing at the fork where Shop St splits into Quay and High Streets.

Walking the neon-lit underground corridor on moving sidewalks between terminals in O'Hare airport, burdened by a load of bags as heavy as my heart to be ending this fantasy I've been living and wondering what I might have left behind. Walkway ending. Please watch your step. Waiting, possibly for hours, for loved ones to reach me, then facing a prolonged stretch of feeling anywhere but home in between two happier places.

Those are the two paths I could've been walking approximately an hour ago.

Whatever the reasons, whatever the results, I chose correctly.

Well. That was unexpected.

I'm afraid I lied. I'm still in Galway.

I shut down the computer after the previous post, and tossed it in the bag--the last thing to go, always. I loaded up my bags in a cab bound for the bus station that would shuttle me off to Shannon.

I had one last stop to make before getting on the bus. And there, just about 50 yards from the bus station, I changed my mind. I found another cab and came right back to the house.

There are a large number of reasons and circumstances why, but I'm not going to get into them all now.

Suffice to say the details for now are that I've rebooked my flight to return July 19th.

And for the moment, I couldn't be happier.

Farewell to Galway

Final post from what's been my home for the past 3 months.

Mood is very melancholy and apprehensive. I'll check in again when I get to Shannon and will have a few hours.

Packing sucks

No matter which side of the ocean you're on or which way you're going, it's a universal truth.

I'm mostly over my emotional duldrums for now, but am just burning out. The good news is, it's currently looking like I should be able to fit everything into my bags. Now whether they'll be over the weight limit is another question...

A little too rough to post much right now

I'm trying to pack. I'm going on little sleep and the surge of emotions good and bad are just making an ugly mess. Galway is sending me out with her finest weather (grey, cold and horizontal rain that looks to continue for my remaining hours).

I thought I'd want to post a lot more right now, but I just gotta get through this and get home. Can't wait to see family and friends, but the end of what's been a most amazing chapter of my life is sitting very heavy right now.

I'll be in touch soon.

Pipers are a surly lot

This was an observation I started to make here some time ago and figured I'd come back to it eventually. It does seem that many of the uilleann pipers I've met have been, or have a reputation of being, a bit on the surly side.

I wondered whether there was something about the pipes that appealed to folks with a cranky disposition, or whether it was the pipes themselves that made the pipers so pissy.

I figure I'm a pretty happy, cheerful and friendly lot for the most part, so I was leaning towards the latter. Last night, I had them out while playing over at a friends' place, then took them along and abused the good folks at the Richardson's session at the end of the night with a few attempts at tunes.

Pictures were taken, and try as I might, I could not get anything approaching a smile while trying to wrestle with those damn things. So here's photographic evidence that its definitely the pipes that make the pipers poor company. And by the looks of this shot, its an area-effect weapon, spreading the doom and gloom to everyone in earshot. Hehheh...




I'm off now on my last mini-trip. I won't be back until Thursday afternoon, at which point it'll be time to pack everything up and be ready to leave. Normal road rules apply, though: I'll try and check in when I can.

Some late Irish observations

Walking back from town just now, I just noticed for the first time that one of my neighbors' mailbox has "NO JUNK MAIL" painted in neat, hand-painted letters above the slot. I wonder if that works. Is it really that simple over here?

Also, on a less light-hearted note, I've been meaning to post this up for a while...

It's a pretty shocking example of the different public mentality over here regarding censorship in the media. This is an actual commercial/PSA that's been running frequently on TV during prime time over here. WARNING... It is very graphic and disturbing:



Far more graphic than any anti-drunk-driving campaign you'd see on TV in the States, and it's just for speeding.

Pressed for Time...

...happens to be the name of one of my favorite Flook tunes, but it's also a rather fitting description of how I'm feeling right now.

I fly home on Friday. Friday. THIS Friday!?

Where on earth have the past three months gone?

Well, I'll tell you where... Dunbeg, Ennis, Galway, Shannon Airport, Rome, Florence, the Austrian Alps, Munich, Ulm, Venice, Normandy, Dublin, Rosscahill, The Burren, Ennistimon, Kilfenora, Inis Meain, Connemara, Limerick, Dingle, Cork, Edinburgh, Grantown-on-Spey, Loch Ness, Isle of Skye, Stirling... It's gone to The Crane, Tigh Coili's, Richardson's, Tigh Neachtain's, the Roisin Dubh, The Quays, Taaffe's, The Front Door, Cooley's House, An Droichead Beag, The Hi-B. It's gone to McDonough's, Dunnes and the Farmer's Market. It's gone into bangers, rashers and black pudding, and pint after pint of Guinness. It's gone into music, and friendship, and craic, as well as personal reflection and much-needed relaxation.

And yet, its not quite done yet. My last 4 days in town just got cut down into about 1 and a half, as one last mini-trek has been thrown together. Tomorrow afternoon, my friend Kimberly and I are heading to Dublin to see Riverdance. "On the way" back to Galway, we're going to head up north to see the Giant's Causeway, which is the number one thing left on my list of sights left to be seen in Ireland (of course, it's not the last thing on the list, so there will always be a new number 1). The route will take us through the Mourne Mountains, Belfast, Derry, and the five remaining counties of Northern Ireland that I have not yet been to.

It's also going to leave me with only Thursday afternoon to clean out my room and pack to go home. But I have no doubt it will be worthwhile.

While I'm definitely starting to bemoan how little time I have left to this particular chapter of my life, there is a great sense of excitement and anticipation that I feel towards being "home" again so soon and reconnecting with friends and family there.

Back again

I think I'm going to wait to upload most of my Scotland pictures at this point. There's a ton and it really takes up some time to go through them, organize them and label them all. I'll toss a few up here and there under the 1000 Words, but the big load will probably come sometime late next week after I'm home. I've got too much else to soak up this week to spend too much time dealing with photos. Plus, once I'm back stateside, I'll get Justin's photos too, as he's got some I'll want to include as well.

I do want to tell one tale from the road though, of a particular favorite memory. On Thursday we explored the Isle of Skye, which was hands down my favorite part of the whole trip. Simply stunning scenery and a great, rustic cultural feel, very different from Strathspey and the eastern Highlands, and of course the cities of the Lowlands.

In the late afternoon, we decided to hike up to the Old Man of Storr, a crazy rock outcropping high up a hill overlooking the Sound and Isle of Raasay and back towards the western Highlands. It's a well-marked and well-travelled path, but still a bit of a climb.

Near the base, there's a final slope up to the rock pillar itself. I climbed about halfway up this slope, found a good spot to dig in, and enjoyed the view. There were some backpackers a bit below us, so I waited for them to round the bend and be out of site, then I pulled out my whistle and naturally, the Skye Boat Song came out. A few other tunes followed it. It only took a few more minutes for a few of the backpackers to come back from around the bend and be standing at the bottom of the small slope watching and listening. A few had climbed up to the path that was about parallel to where I was. After playing my few tunes, I started making my way back to meet back up with Justin and Nathan who'd been exploring the area around the base just below me.

When I came across the backpackers on the path, they practically begged me to play some more. Always enjoying an appreciative audience, I sat down and played a bit more. I was fighting off the wind and the midgies (small, biting gnat-like bugs), but it was fantastic. Justin and Nathan later said that it was just ringing off the high stone cliffs behind which really added an amazing, magical quality to the music, befitting the scenery around us.

This is the Old Man of Storr, as seen from about half-way up from the road. It was another 20 minutes or so of hiking from this point to reach the final slope at the base of the spire, which just sort of blends in with the rest of the hill from this angle. The clouds that were dancing with it cleared up by the time we reached it. Steep rock cliffs stand just behind it, which bounced my tunes around in the wind.

A taste of Michigan in Edinburgh airport? Sorta.

I might've been confused had I not stumbled across an article on wikipedia a few months ago.

See, I had always grown up believing that pasty's were Michigan's one, true, original cuisine. Local lore has it that the miners in the Upper Penninsula concocted these tasty little pockets of hot meat, potato and veg wrapped in dough as a meal that could be taken along in the morning which would stay hot until lunch time.

But, those yooper miners, many of whom were Cornish immigrants, brought the dish from their native land.

So I was only mildly surprised and amused when I stumbled across the West Cornwall Pasty Co. in the terminal area of Edinburgh Airport. I mean, not that we're in Cornwall, but at least its on the right island.

I should add though, that this hardly looked like your typical, rustic yooper pasty shack. Rather, its a converted VW minibus, painted black with flames down the sides, and a couple of matching surfboards strapped to the top. Speakers mounted at the sides were blaring gritty Chicago style blues.

How could I not stop in and sample the fare?

So yeah... at an airport. Again. More waiting. What's more is I'll probably check in again from Shannon, as I'll have another long wait for the bus there tonight, and won't get back to Galway until probably around 2am. But it'll be nice to be back there.

The next week, however, is going to be insane. I'm going to have a lot of thought I'll want to get out in word here, but I already know I'll hardly have the time. I've got tons of pictures and stories from Scotland (not to mention Dingle and Cork) but I'll probably try and keep the commentary there to a minimum, as I don't want to lose "the now".

In addition to just enjoying enough of the same sessions and pints that have been my every day life for the past few months, tomorrow is the Salthill Airshow. On Tuesday night, I'm going to Dublin to see Riverdance. My friend Meg, who I've been corresponding with now for a few months, has just arrived in Galway on the beginning of a similar journey to the one I've been on, and I'm looking forward to meeting and hanging out with her. And I have many other friends and acquaintences to enjoy my last days with while I'm here as well.

That's not even getting into packing, or buying last-minute souvenirs.

Or trying to figure out where my life (and this space for that matter) will be going after Friday.

William Wallace territory

Tonight we're in Stirling, home of the William Wallace monument and sight of his historic victory over the British. It looks like a pretty cool town, but we just rolled in and it started pouring. We're at a hostel right next to Stirling Castle, and had a good dinner at a place owned by a guy who's apparently a big NHL fan, so we talked hockey for a bit. Go figure.

Gonna check out the castle and the monument and maybe a bit more of town in the morning before heading back to Edinburgh tomorrow, where Justin and Nathan will catch a train down to London while I fly back to Shannon.

The past day or so on the Isle of Skye were fantastic. Climbed around in some amazing scenery, and I even got to sit in on a Scottish trad session for a bit last night. Hope to fill in more details later, but running out of time for this connection period. Next post will probably be from back in Galway.

Still a small world, even in Scotland

Wandering around Kyleakin last night, we ran into a couple of young guys out trying to find a way to the small castle ruins. Got chatting with them for a bit and asked them where they were from.

Turns out they were both recent UM grads, one of which is now in grad school at the University of Chicago.

The other one was from Dryden, right down the road from Memphis.

btw... Justin and Nathan did make their way to the ruins. I turned back with the Michigan guys and headed back to town. It was nearly midnight, though there was still plenty of twilight glow in the sky.