Travel!

It's Christmastime in the mountains...

Sun, 27 Nov 2005 19:50:23 GMT

I still don't like Grafton Street but goodness, it's pretty. All decked out for Christmas and everything. And O'Connell Street was closed today for a big Christmas shindig that included a choir and a tree being lit up. That was kind of nice to stumble on, and I wonder if it was karma that the Eason's in Dundrum didn't have Neverwhere, so I had to go up to the big one and wound up on O'Connell Street in time to see all the festivities.

(Of course, that Eason's didn't have it either, and so I went to Waterstone's in the Jervis Centre. They had it but it was filed under 'Horror' - wtf? Okay, Croup and Vandermar are pretty gruesome but all his books were in Horror. I mean, Stardust is not Horror. /rant.)

I have spent the last three days doing fuck all. Day one I went out with lasultrix for a lovely lunch in her local pub. Then I went into the city centre and procured a new wooly hat and a jumper that fits under my coat, because it's cold. On the second day I went roaming around the northside, window-shopping and just enjoying Dublin.

Today I was a consumer whore. I went to the big mall in Dundrum and poked around the shops a bit. I sort of wanted a few things at H&M but in the end I settled for some books and art supplies from Eason's. And Christmas cards. Whee!

Oh, and I had nummy Chinese food for dinner. Yay.

Bathtime!

Miami, New Orleans, London, Belfast and Berlin.

Thu, 24 Nov 2005 17:13:26 GMT

Yesterday I woke up late, which is becoming something of a habit. Normally I wouldn't say that 10am is late, but there's only about four or five hours of daylight here, so by then the day is half-done as far as sight-seeing is concerned. Add to that the weather, which was cold, wet and dreary, and you have nearly no actual daylight to speak of.

I went out for milk and something to drink for breakfast. There's a few supermarkets nearby and I find them to be less intimidating than restaurants, when it comes to the language barrier. You can just nip in and out of a supermarket and you rarely have to actually speak to anyone. The checker did ask me something however, and as I said before I panicked and blurted out "I don't speak English" in a sheepish, apologetic tone. She rolled her eyes and said, "Ah, so," and turned to the guy behind me. I grabbed my food and fled.

After breakfast I went out. First stop was Potsdam Platz, which is mostly a touristy shopping area. I figured I could find an ATM there and also a small map of Berlin. I found both, which was good, along with a Christmas market, a McDonald's and a Starbucks - all filed away in my head for future reference. I've been battling homesickness for a couple of days now and knowing where the familiar things were was helpful; after spending nearly a month with other people I am now on my own, and it is incredibly lonely. More than I thought it would be, since normally I don't mind solitude. Apparently, I mind it now.

I moved on to Tiergarten, and the Siegessäule (Victory Column). This is something I have wanted to see since 1993, when U2 released Zooropa and a little song called "Stay." The video (inspired by the Wim Wenders film Faraway, So Close!) was filmed in Berlin and the Siegessäule figures prominently. "Stay" was the song - is the song - for me, that U2 has done. I can remember being fourteen and listening to it over and over, drowning out my mother's quiet but overwhelming battle and eventual death from cancer on 28 November. "Stay" was the chosen anthem of a motherless daughter.

It was easy enough to find it - you can't miss a golden angel perched 60-meters in the air. I went up to it and went up inside it, to the very top - no lift, just a spiral staircase - and looked out over dreary, foggy, soggy Berlin. There wasn't much to see, but when I looked up I could see her wings - brilliant gold against the grey, grey sky. Her paint was peeling. She was beautiful.

I thought about my mother and how I'd told her, when she was still here, that someday I was going to find that angel. Fifteen years later, I finally did. I made it.

After that I went back to Potsdamer Place and to the Starbucks, because it had hot chocolate and internet access. I felt odd - tired, weary, and the loneliness crashed down on me with all the subtlety of a sack of bricks. I became acutely aware of the conversations around me, how I didn't understand a word anyone was saying. I felt very far away, from everything. Very small. I can't really describe it properly, but it was debilitating. It still is.

I decided, then, that a month away was quite long enough, if not too much so. It's time to go home.

So, I set about to change my flight. Originally I was to depart Rome on 4 December. I don't think I could hack Italy at this point, so I look up flights from Amsterdam on the 1st, instead. I find one and proceed to wrestle with Continental.com in an effort to change it. The website eventually gets me to the page where it asks for my credit card information - and after I enter it, I am promptly kicked off. "Session timed out," it says. Okay, I log back in.

And my flight has been cancelled altogether.

Enter panic. I have no idea how in the hell they could confuse changing my flight with canceling it. Thankfully, my friends Caris and Brian are online at that moment and Caris calls Continental on my behalf, while Brian helps me look up the US Embassies in Germany. Eventually, Caris gets through to a person, who then tries to tell me he can't rebook the flight unless it leaves out of the same city. That I was never supposed to be able to change it in the first place - despite the fact that it nearly let me until the website went into conniptions.

Long story short, there was a lot of back-and-forth, and supervisors called in, and a bitchy customer service woman, and many attempts by Continental to extort ridiculous amounts of money out of me for their mistake - but eventually I won out and got my flight from Amsterdam. I did have to pay a change fee, but I would have paid that anyway had Continental not screwed up. I'll be taking it up with them again when I get home, believe you me.

And now I think I am done with being in Germany, and on the continent in general. I found some cheap flights from Berlin to either London or Dublin and I think I am going to take one, and spend a few days in familiarity, in cities where I know people and the language and where everything is. Then I will nip over to the Netherlands for Luka's Eindhoven show on the 30th.

And then I will go home.

I have one more day in Berlin, though, and so I am going to go out and try to see a bit more of the city before I leave it. It really is very lovely, and I would love to spend more time here but not now. And not alone.

Photos from the Frames show, and the Siegessäule should be up on my Flickr account.

More later.

ETA: Have booked flight out of Berlin. Will be spending the last week back in Ireland. I feel a little better now.

I am a donut!

Wed, 23 Nov 2005 15:44:35 GMT

-Written 22.11.05-

Left Hamburg this morning after a very late start. Intended to be up at nine, was finally out at noon. Oops. I had mad dreams that weren't so mad that I wanted to wake up from them, but mad enough that I wanted to stay asleep to see what happened next. And of course, now I can't remember a bloody thing about them. Typical.

Had a bit of fun with the trains this ~~morning~~ afternoon, as all the automatic signs in the station weren't working properly. They quit at about 10.46, because that is the time that was still on them at about 11.46. It made locating the right train very, very confusing - but I managed it! I wandered around for a bit, then asked a DB service fellow who gave me a print-out of the proper time for my train and what platform. Everyone looked a bit confused today, so I didn't feel quite so ridiculous and foreign. It was universal chaos!

Eventually I got on the train to Berlin, another ICE. Plopped myself down and was promptly greeted by a helpful little man bearing gummi bears. I am not joking - they gave them to me in the hotel when I checked in. Is this a German thing? At any rate, I have three bags of them now which is good, as there are three kids at home who would be happy to relieve me of my German candy.

Arrived two hours later in the Zoo Station (and yes, Achtung Baby was playing on the iPod) where I had to catch an S to Alexanderplatz. I figured it out just fine, mostly because the ticket machines are multi-lingual, and I was able to get a three-day pass for the public transport. Not sure if it works on the happy little trams I see buzzing around everywhere, but I am content with the S and U-Bahn.

It was on the S-Bahn that I looked through the window and caught sight of the Siegessaule, or Victory Column; the proud golden angel reaching high over the city and the subject of one of my favourite U2 videos, and a fantastic foreign film called Faraway, So Close! by Wim Wenders. I am going to find it tomorrow and climb it and have the moment that I have waited for since I was fourteen years old and listening to "Stay" on repeat.

At Alexanderplatz I took the U2 (hee) to Senefelder Platz (which I keep reading as Seinfeld Platz, which is probably good since I won't forget it). Walked maybe 80 meters and boom, there was my hostel. It's clean, actually very nicely arranged, not scuzzy or worn or smelling faintly of dirty boys and mouldy old socks. And it turned out to be fifteen minutes' walk to the Magnet Club, where The Frames were to be playing in a few hours! How convenient!

(I am teased, actually, about how I see certain bands multiple times. I know most people don't understand how you can go see the same artist over and over, but sometimes it's annoying when they give you grief about it. I wish I could better explain why I do it, but even I don't really understand it. It's just something I like to do. There's the familiarity, of course, of seeing someone you know in a place that you don't - I said that to Luka Bloom actually. That he made a foreign place feel a little bit like home. And of course it's the music that pulls you in, like the Pied Piper I suppose. I really like the bands I choose to see more than once, or follow.

But there's something else to it, I think. Something a little bit deeper that I can't quite reach just yet. Maybe I'll never figure it out. Maybe I shouldn't have to. I don't even think that I want to. So the next time someone takes the mickey out of me for following bands around, I am going to kick them. Hard.)

Anyway. What was I saying?

Right, the Frames. I didn't have a ticket, because the site that sold the tickets was entirely in German and would only deliver to German mailing addresses. So it was a bit of a risk to go to the venue and hope they still had some available. I walked over and the place was dark - of course, it wasn't even 4pm yet. I had four hours to kill before the doors opened.

So I walked. And walked. And walked some more. I didn't get lost (gasp!) but I just couldn't stop walking and looking around at things. Also, I was really hungry but I am having some issues with finding food on my own, here. I'm not sure what it is, but when faced with someone who doesn't speak any English I panic, and freeze, and what little Deutsch I know goes right out the window. It happened when I went to a supermarket for a snack and for breakfast provisions - the checkout lady asked if I had 11 cents (in German) and I just blinked and blurted out, "SORRY AM AMERICAN." I started to dig out the money but she just sighed, and handed me my change. I felt so awful and stupid that I just shoved my purchases into a bag and fled, cursing myself all the way back to the hostel for being an idiot. I mean, who panics when someone asks them for change?

I really am, actually, good with languages. I collect words, have done for years, but when it comes to the practical application I am pathetic at best. I KNOW some German! I really do! I just can't get my brain to switch over fast enough to speak it when it's needed. My thoughts are in English, and when I am put on the spot I tend to blurt out whatever's in my head at that moment. It's awful. The filter between my brain and my mouth is either broken or missing.

After dropping off my groceries I went back to Magnet, rehearsing under my breath the German I might need to speak. 'Haben sie karten fuhr das Frames?' Not that hard, right? I repeated it to myself the entire way, all the way up the steps to the door of the club. And what came out of my mouth when they opened the door?

"Sorry, um. English?"

Just shoot me.

Luckily for me they did speak ~~stupid American~~ English, and I got my ticket and walked into the SMALLEST FUCKING VENUE IN THE WORLD. Holy cow, this place was tiny. The room I am in right now in my hostel is bigger than the stage was. How a band of five (six, if you count the soundman) managed to squeeze onto it - especially with Glen Hansard being the sort of frontman who bounces around and careens off of things - I will never know. I was early, so I found a spot against the wall and sat down to wait, while German people trickled in and stood around being cool, looking existentially bored.

(And smoking fucking twenty packs each, I swear to God. I am not used to people smoking in clubs anymore, and I think until Europe catches on this will be the last of my club shows outside of the US. My eyes are still watering. These women near me must have smoked a pack between them before the warm-up came on. I thought I was going to die. I comforted myself with the thought that all four of them will be dead in five years if they keep that shit up. Jesus H Christ.)

The warm-up was The Royal We, which consisted of one guy, three chords and a squeaky mic. He wasn't bad, but he wasn't very good either, and the crowd was indifferent to him which made it just awkward and uncomfortable. I hate that about rock clubs. The audience isn't really an audience but just a mass of people swilling beer and TALKING ALL THE TIME OH MY GOD WHY DO PEOPLE COME TO SHOWS JUST TO TALK THROUGH THEM-

Sorry. Ahem.

The Frames! Straight away you knew something was up because at the end of 'Keepsake,' the first song, Glen went batshit on the mic. He gnawed on it and threw it around and slammed it to the floor and stomped on it. Clearly, he had issues with the microphone. Turned out to be the cable attached to it, which is why the warm-up had squeaky issues as well. Glen was not impressed by this and made it very clear, but then said he would do his best to 'rise above it' - and he proceeded to give his most impressive performance I've seen yet. He's normally pretty insane on stage but tonight he was absolutely bonkers. It was both impressive and slightly worrying, though the rest of the band looked as if this were an everyday thing. Joe even laughed when Glen tried to kill the mic stand. I guess you get used to it.

The set list was a lot of the usual but with a few surprises. One really hilarious moment was when Glen announced that the soundman had played his bit on the keyboards entirely without trousers on. There were of course at that pojnt the requisite penis jokes among the band members (ha, she said 'members'). Then Glen quoted, "Every time I see a woman I'd like to beat, I get an erec-tion," in a awful German accent, and said how he hated that line because of how violent it is. This was followed by 'Pavement Tune,' during which Joe started chanting 'I get an erec-tion' into the mic, in place of 'I want my life to make more sense'. This had everyone in hysterics and resulted in some incredibly horrible mimed oral sex performed on guitars. I'll let you use your imagination on that one.

Boys.

The band was actually in a pretty good mood, it looked like. Or they were trying to be, in the face of what might have been 'the worst gig I've ever played,' according to Glen. He said that, then added, 'but it's not, actually. I'm enjoying myself now.' He was, though he was still really annoyed with the microphone feedback. He kept making faces at it, and in the end he started using it as an effect on certain songs. He's a really... well, he's weird. In an interesting way. A good way, I think.

The surprise for me at the end was 'Dance the Devil,' which was gorgeous and inspired by 'trying to sort out your demons... during a gig, actually.' 'Star Star' followed, with Glen singing into his guitar strings and then looping it and warping it to create bizarre backing vocals and effects. That was cool.

Joe also sang his solo bit, and I finally wrote down the lyrics - what song is this? It's gorgeous.

[first line missed]
Shall I play ball with the dog,
Or walk away?
Shall I take your hand,
Walk along the Strand?
Time is the enemy.
Time is the guide.
We need an enemy.
I'm saving all rage for you.
We need an enemy.
I'm saving all my rage...
It's Christmastime on the mountain
And everything is white
Tonight.

Didn't stick around afterward because the walk back to the hostel was scary enough at midnight without making it any later. The first thing I did when I got in was shower off the horrid smell of cigarettes - it's in everything. I don't even want to wear my coat tomorrow, it smells so awful. And I can't stop coughing. Stupid people and their stupid habit - I'm sorry, but until my nail-biting gives other people cancer, I will never have anything but contempt for smokers. Especially smokers who ignore the BIG SIGN ON THE DOOR THAT SAID NO SMOKING. IN TWO LANGUAGES.

Roar. Bedtime.

-Written 23.11.05-

Have slept, eaten, bought map of Berlin and found an ATM that would take my card. Yay, accomplishments! Then I went to find the Siegessäule, the Victory Column in Tiergarten. I found it, climbed it, and have finally completed a goal I've had since 1993. My mother would be proud.

Pictures forthcoming as soon as I load them on a more reliable internet than the freebie connection at Potsdamer Platz. Stupid hostel no longer offers wi-fi because of 'past abuse' - these people have never heard of firewalls? Oy.

Off to find coffee. Brr.

More from Germany...

Mon, 21 Nov 2005 22:28:58 GMT

Ah, Düsseldorf!

I have to admit something, here. I'm a terrible backpacker. I hate carrying my pack around, I'm tired of wearing the same pair of jeans for the last month (yes, I have washed them, though not in the last week or so, and I am considering a trip to H&M because I'm afraid these might get up and leave me at any moment), and I hate hostel dormitories. I used to like them but that was ten years ago. I am older now, wiser and not too keen on sleeping in bunk beds with unwashed Swedish university students who smell strongly of feet.

So, in Hamburg, I stayed in a really nice hotel. It was recommended by N, who was staying there as well with the rest of the crew, and in the end I decided it was just easier to stay where there'd be people I knew and a staff who would definitely speak English. Also, things like my own shower and a huge bed and room service until 12am - big plus, those. It turned out to be a wise decision because I doubt a hostel would have looked after me as the Renaissance Marriot did when my tooth exploded. Expensive, but worth it to be taken care of when in a lot of pain.

Then I went to Düsseldorf and stayed in what they claimed was a three-star hotel. Terminus, located about 3 minutes from the Am Wehrhan stop on the S11, was friendly and clean but I wouldn't give it three stars. Two at the most, and I base that mainly on the neighbourhood. I didn't feel safe at all walking down the street, and I used to live in the very worst part of Brooklyn, folks. But the room was cosy and warm, and really that's all you can ask for, ja? It was hard, though, to come down three stars from the Renaissance to the Terminus. I kinda got used to feeling like a rock star, there.

Anyway! Enough hotel talk. I am so proud of myself! I managed to sort out the S-Bahn on my own, made my way back to the Hauptbanhof and then I found the venue. I had a little map and I got the right streets and hello, Savoy! And across the street was a McDonald's! (No comments about my lack of adventure; I can't eat anything properly at the moment except French fries, because they are long and skinny and easily gnawed upon.) So, I wandered around a bit before going back to Savoy to find R and her husband.

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the Savoy... A guy had been sitting across from me in the McDonald's, and after I left he followed me, which was incredibly freaky. Then he asked me something in German and we were alone on the street and believe you me, I had my mobile in one hand with 999 pre-dialed and my hotel key in the other, just in case I needed to poke out some eyeballs. Turns out he was asking me out, for coffee. I was so completely baffled that I just blurted out "Nein!" and he looked crushed. I felt bad for a second, but then I thought, 'Dude, no,' and continued on my way.

(Seriously, though. First time in two bloody years that someone shows some interest in me, and it's some skeezy German guy. Grr.)

The Savoy is a former cinema that has been converted into a proper concert hall, with seats and a lovely stage and red curtains. Very kitsch but enjoyably so. It turned out to be a great show! Calm and relaxed, a Sunday night crowd of enthusiastic Luka fans who knew all the songs and seemed to be a lot of fun for Luka. We got a couple of songs he doesn't usually sing, and that was fantastic. John Spillane got a great reception as well, which is good to see. He is absolutely brilliant.

Went back to the hotel (thankfully got a lift from R and her husband, or else I'd have taken a taxi) and collapsed, completely worn out. I did manage a little planning to try and figure out how I am going to finish out my journey. Am skipping most of Eastern Europe though I might nip over to Praha, just because it's so damn close to Berlin. From Praha to München, then a quick nip to Eindhoven for my last show. Fly from A'dam to Roma and spend four days in Italy just relaxing before flying home on 4 December.

I think six weeks was a bit ambitious of me to be honest, though perhaps if so much insanity hadn't happened along the way I might not feel that way. I have really enjoyed myself, and I've seen so many different things and people and cultures. It's been scary at times (and now that I am completely on my own, it's more than a little terrifying) but for the most part it's been amazing. I might not have seen the things I planned to see, but I've seen quite a bit and as they say, Europe will wait for me. I will be back.

In fact, I'm back in Ireland/England in January. :-D

Am on my way to Hamburg now, to pick up my replacement bank card. Am on the ICE and holy cats, this thing is FAST. And very, very nice. Posh. I have a squashy seat and a table and loads of room, and the car is nice and quiet. I think after I am done writing this I will read Harry Potter, or nap. Yay!

ETA: Am in Hamburg, card procured, have been fed and bathed and now it's time to relax. Berlin tomorrow, am going to stay for a few days there. Finally, I get to be in one place for more than 24 hours!

Eine kleine nacht musik.

Sun, 20 Nov 2005 15:45:16 GMT

Guten morgen! Wie geht's? Sehr gut, danke.

That pretty much exhausts my German, though I've made a fair go of butchering it rather spectacularly so far. Luckily, most of the people I have encountered have either spoken English or had someone nearby who could translate. I feel bad not knowing much of the language, and I have been studying my wee phrasebook in the meantime to try and absorb a little more as I go along.

I got into Hamburg late Friday night and immediately took a bath. My hotel was the Renaissance Marriot, which is a bit pricey but well worth it. I pampered myself, with a gorgeous, enormous bed and a proper bathtub, and even room service (though that was pretty much compulsory, because I was starving and nothing was open in the surrounding neighbourhood). I used Skype to ring some people at home and talked for two hours for only €3. How fantastic is that? It was brilliant to hear familiar voices (and accents!) again, I think I needed it. Then I settled in for a good night's sleep.

Or, so I thought. Round about 5am I woke to a terrible pain in my face. It felt as if someone had something dull and hot, and was trying to push it into my ear and down into my jaw. I couldn't see straight, the pain was so intense, and for a brief moment I thought I was having some sort of an attack. Two helpful souls, Tai and Linnea, talked to me and gave advice and comfort, and after four Motrin tablets and a hot compress the pain subsided enough for me to get another couple of hours of sleep. I hoped it'd be gone by morning.

And it sort of was. There was the faint echo of pain there, but for the most part I could function enough to get up and get dressed and have a shower. The pain came back, though, as I got dressed, so I took one of the big-time painkillers I had leftover from my last dental procedure. It took a bit of the edge off, which was good because not long after that N rang - he'd just got in and was looking to come chat. We had lunch, but I wasn't able to concentrate too easily because the pain was back in full force, and I couldn't really even eat properly.

After N went up for a nap I went back to my room to take another painkiller. It did nothing, and I realised that I had to either do something else about it or resign myself to being in pain for the next three weeks. I went downstairs to the concierge and asked for help finding an English-speaking dentist who might be accepting patients on a Saturday afternoon. A pretty tall order, and I wasn't optimistic.

But lo! They found one! ANd the concierge walked me to their office personally. He even helped me translate the medical forms I had to fill out, and made sure the receptionist knew to ring him at the hotel afterward if I was so out of it that I couldn't get back there on my own. He was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

After the dentist poked around a bit he determined that the nerve in my tooth was 'very very sick,' and so they shot me full of some pretty intense stuff that had to be stronger than novocaine, because it never makes me that numb. I didn't feel anything (though the sound of the drill made me want to climb the walls). They drilled and drilled and poked and cleaned and mopped up an insane amount of blood, then put some wonderful medication inside the tooth and packed it up, and thirty minutes after I arrived I was on my way (and €150 poorer, oy). And so far, so good - no pain other than a sore jaw.

So, numb and dazed I went back to the hotel long enough to look up the information I needed to be able to get to Fabrik, in Hamburg Altona, where Luka Bloom would be playing that night. It didn't look too difficult - the S-Bahn five stops, then a 10-minute walk. Easy enough, yeah?

Clearly, you haven't been paying attention.

I managed to get there on the train, but once I was required to walk I could not for the life of me sort out where I was going. Plus, I was addled by a lot of medication and the left side of my head was still so numb I couldn't even feel how cold it was outside. Not wanting a repeat of Utrecht, where I wandered around lost for over an hour, I found a taxi and in my scary American way asked to be taken to Fabrik. It really was only about 5 minutes from the station, but I wouldn't have found my way if I'd tried. Thank God for taxis. I found my friend Rena and her husband in the balcony, and I was finally able to relax.

The gig was, as nearly all Luka gigs are, great. Good energy, good mood for Luka. Blistering version of 'Bad' which Luka commented on later, saying he felt it was one of the better performances. (I like that he says this to me, because clearly I am the ultimate judge of whether or not a cover of a U2 song has been done properly.) Also heard a couple of tunes I haven't got in a while - "Black Is the Colour" and "I Need Love," which is always simply hysterical. John Spillane opened, and was absolutely fantastic, and you should all look him up. He has the demeanor of Father Ted and gave us great songs, including one called 'The Mad Woman of Cork,' that will stay in your head long after it's done. Definitely one to watch, this John Spillane character.

Spent a bit of time chatting with folk after the show, then made my way back to the hotel. I managed it just fine, thanks - the underground train system in Germany is very efficient though the ticket machines are a bit difficult to puzzle out. Why can't everything be like the NYC subway, I ask you? $2.00 gets you wherever you need to go, and there's none of this 'zone' business. You just pays your money and you gets on the train! That said, I'd like to see the efficiency of the German rail and the London Tube implemented in America - the German trains are ridiculously fast, while the Tube keeps you extremely well-informed of everything going on with the trains. I really liked that.

It was a lot of fun, and great to hang out with familiar faces (speaking a familiar language!) and relax a little. I think we finally retired to our rooms at about 1.30am. Bath, packing, and then bed.

This morning I checked out, had a nice chat with the concierge who helped me yesterday, and trudged off to the trains. I really, really like this first class business. The cars are quiet and I have my own seat again. I napped a little, had a conversation in text with N and read my newly-procured copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, because I've been wanting to read it again and I finally found a copy in English. I'm hungry but eating is a bit difficult with this tooth being, you know, a gaping hole in my mouth. I think it's soup for me for a while. Hopefully I can find some when I get to Düsseldorf.

Speaking of, I was supposed to be there about ten minutes ago, but we're stuck at Duisburg Hbf because of some children playing on the tracks ahead of us. I think we've been sitting here for twenty minutes. How long does it take to round up some stupid kids and throw them off the tracks? Roar.

Am going to study my map for a bit, and make sure I know where I am going when/if this train ever gets to bloody D'dorf.

ETA: Have arrived, checked in and showered. Am nice and clean and presentable and off to see a bit of the city before the sun sets completely, and then it's off to the Savoy Theatre! WILL be taking a cab back to hotel as am in the ghe-heh-heh-tto. Eep.

Zoom!

Achtung, Baby!

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 23:08:49 GMT

Finally, a proper update.

As I write this I am on a train from Copenhagen to Hamburg, having left Finland this morning. I flew from Helsinki to Stockholm, connected to Copenhagen, got lost on the trains and eventually made my way to the central station. Eurail pass is activated and good for the next three weeks - unlimited 1st class train travel (if you're over age 26) through almost all of Europe! Woohoo!

I haven't really updated since I left London, so I'll start from there. I took the Eurostar from England to Belgium, and I have to say that it's really not all it's cracked up to be. I'm sure it's nicer in the upper classes but as far as standard goes it's pretty much like any other train. The Chunnel was shorter than I expected. Other than that, I slept through the entire thing - though, I did check out the tiny slice of France I saw, between Calais and Lille.

Arriving in Brussels, I was finally immersed in not just one language but four. Flemish, Dutch, French and a tiny bit of English. Somehow I navigated the immense station and found my way to a train bound for Rotterdam, which would take me to Utrecht and Martine. A bit harrowing, and frustrating when the train announcements were strictly in Dutch (as they would be, seeing as how we were in the Netherlands), but otherwise an okay journey.

(Except that on the morning I left London, my body decided to carry on England's long, bloody history, and left me with the worst cramps I have had in years. We're talking doubled-over, tears-in-your-eyes, I'm-going-to-throw-up kind of pain. I arrived in Utrecht feeling as if I'd actually been under the train instead of in it, and bless Martine - she had a hot water bottle. It was a Vicodin night, it was.)

The next day we went into A'dam to wander around. I wanted to see the Anne Frank House, but the queue was ridiculous by the time we found it. I'm going to have to come back for it, maybe later in the trip. We walked all over the city and eventually ended up in - you guessed it - the red light district. And I have to say that it wasn't really any more red than, say, the Castro or certain bits of New York.

Then I saw the prostitutes.

Talk about window-shopping. They're all just right there! In the flesh, and lots of it. That, I admit, was a bit weird. I was glad when we abandoned the porn and went to a department store instead. I'll take mannequins over the real thing anytime.

Martine's parents met us the next morning, and her father (who is something of a historian) took us around A'dam for a proper, thorough tour. We went round where the ships are, over lovely canals

[HANG ON SORRY THERE IS SNOW OUTSIDE MY WINDOW. SNOW!!!!]

and he told me about the architecture of Amsterdam, and loads of excellet history. It was fantastic, and I cannot express how much I appreciated their time and effort in introducing the American to their country. That night we went to their house, in the south of the Netherlands, near Eindhoven. It was lovely, and the next day Martine's dad took us cycling through their village. We saw a few sights that had significance to Vincent Van Gogh, and the arrival of St Nicholas to the village.

(I have to say, that was a bit strange. Interesting and cool, but strange, because the tradition of St Nicholas is that he arrives by steamboat from Spain with a fellow called Black Pete, whose job is to take the bad children back to Spain with him, in a sack. Black Pete is portrayed as what Americans would consider a stereotypical black person - and the event I saw had him played by people in blackface. It was surreal, because it was normal and not intended to be offensive. It just was. That was my first real attack of culture shock.)

Unfortunately, my trip to the Netherlands was marred by bad luck with my computer, which decided to crash. I was also having issues with a concert I was supposed to see in Utrecht, with not being able to find the people who had my ticket, and then finding out that I had about four extra tickets I didn't need and no-one who wanted to take them. This, plus exhaustion and hormones, led to a minor collapse, and I am thankful to Martine for the much-needed hugs that night.

I did see the concert though! The Frames, who I have talked about before, a little Irish band who, if you've never heard of them, there's something wrong with you. They gave an absolutely fantastic performance at the Tivoli, a venue I've wanted to see for years (since nearly everyone I know has played it at some point or another), and despite having got myself lost in Utrecht for over an hour trying to find the place, I did manage to see them and I am glad I did. They're playing Berlin in a few days, and I am going to see them there as well. They're that good, folks.

There was a day of downtime and shopping after that, and then I was on a plane to Helsinki! My stopover in Stockholm was brief but from I saw of Sweden from the plane, I liked. It was pretty and tree-infested, much like Finland was when I finally got there, and found Jenni. She took me home and fed me, and showed me Warcraft (and I am a better person for it, truly) and was basically adorable and Finnish and I wanted to live under her bed forever.

I didn't see much of Helsinki, regrettably, but I don't mind. Helsinki has an interesting history, and it's relatively young by comparison to its European counterparts. Independent for the last two centuries, before that it belonged to the Russians and before that it was part of Sweden. There's not much left of old Helsinki, and besides that - it was COLD. Holy crap, it was cold. Like, that sort of cold that creeps through your skin and into your bones and builds igloos there. Just... really, really cold.

But we did stuff! We went for food and wandered around, and I braved a Finnish computer store and then we saw Goblet of Fire on a really huge screen from the front row. We slept late and played Warcraft and watched movies and downloaded TV shows. Wonderful downtime with my wonderful Finn. Yay!

But then I had to go. :( Which brings me here to the train, which is currently passing through the Danish countryside (at the moment, we are stopped in Ringsted). There is a fresh blanket of snow over everything and even though it's only 1633 as I write this, it is twilight. The sun is going down beyond the hills and there's a house on the horizon, black against the fading of the day but warm from within by tiny pinpricks of light. And the clouds are huge, burning and amazing.

(Oh, I could totally get used to this first class thing. They just brought us free water, juice and coffee, and now there's fresh fruit. OMG ALSO CHOCOLATE. FIRST CLASS PWNZ.)

So, the running tally is: Ireland, England, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Sweden, Finland, Denmark and in a little while, Germany.

Achtung, baby!

ETA: And now I am in Germany - Hamburg to be precise. The train went on a ferry! That was cool. My hotel is AWESOME. I had a bath and a burger and tomorrow I am exploring this beautiful city, then seeing Luka Bloom. And I used Skype to call home and it was only €1,50 for an HOUR. Love Skype.

Overdue.

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 11:59:29 GMT

I have been awful about updating this journal, but the last week and a half has been absolutely insane. I have traveled through the Netherlands to Sweden, and then on to Finland. Now I am back in Sweden and on my way to Copenhagen, where I will pick up a train to Hamburg. (Where I splurged on a really nice hotel, because I really, really need it at this point.)

But let me just say this: Arlanda Airport sucks. My Finnair flight got in at the exact opposite side of the airport from my connection to Copenhagen. Twenty minutes of walking, and I had to go through security AGAIN.

Grrrr.

Okay, time to get on the plane. And take more valium.

Going Dutch.

Fri, 11 Nov 2005 01:28:37 GMT

I passed through four countries today. Four. I left England this morning and in what felt like a heartbeat, I was in France. The Chunnel isn't as long a trip as I expected it to be - we were only in it for about 20 minutes! We passed by Calais and Lille before entering Belgium, where I changed trains in Brussels.

Barring a trip to Mexico City in 1997, and a brief jaunt into Montreal earlier that same year I have never been completely immersed in a foreign language before. Though really, I grew up in California which is where you learn a little Spanish by osmosis, and I don't even really count Montreal because while they insist on speaking French, they're still Canadian (and you know they know English, they're just being stubborn). Landing in Brussels was a culture shock. I felt a bit shaken the first time I heard the station announcements - in French and Dutch, with only occasional English. And when I finally got into the Netherlands, the English nearly disappeared completely for a little while.

Thank God for Martine and her Dutchiness. She is an excellent travel guide and advisor, translator and finder of Chinese restaurants in Utrecht (though she did have to call The Boy for directions, but still - it was cute to hear her babble in Dutch over the phone).

Tonight was sort of a lazy night in because I had a very rough train journey (think: that time of the month, worst cramps of your life - similar to childbirth I suspect, have now decided am getting a cat instead). We got food, and geeked around with iPods and teh interwebs, and plotted some of my journey after Finland (Germany and Prague mostly). I may end up skipping Poland because I am not certain I want to really go there by myself. Instead, I may go from Prague to Wien to Salzburg and then to Ljubljana and the rest of the Balkans before heading for Italy. I think I might have been too ambitious in my initial planning. Hee.

Tomorrow is Amsterdam! Anne Frank's house, the Jordaan, the Nine Streets, and THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT. Woohoo. Also, am going to research the possibility of getting a new tattoo while I am here, because where else would you get your body branded when in Europe?

But for now? A bit more geekery and then sleep.

ETA:

Martine: Oh, you should really go to the Christmas markets in Germany while you're here.
Me: Oh, absolutely.
Martine: What're we doing on Saturday? We could go to Germany.
Me: ... OKAY WAIT.

I am never going to get used to this.

Long overdue update, from London.

Wed, 09 Nov 2005 01:28:51 GMT

The best-laid plans, as they say...

London has been mostly fantastic, with the odd unfortunate event or two. I arrived on Monday, which was also Hallowe'en. Was collected from the Tube by friend John and installed into a lovely flat in Shepherd's Bush. Unfortunately, I had the beginnings of a cold and could do little more on my first night in England than curl up in a ball, ingest copious amounts of tea, and sleep.

Tuesday, I felt much better and ventured out into the wild streets of London. I saw many things, including St James's Park, Buckingham Palace, the Palace of Westminster, and Regent Street. A very good and full day that left me slightly exhausted, but pleased.

On Wednesday and Thursday I spent time with various and sundry friends in the area, and visited the Tower of London, which was by far one of the most interesting and fun experiences I've ever had. I love the Tower, and my fascination with England's long and bloody history was satisfied by an excellent tour from a Yeoman and a rather pricey but thorough guidebook. Took hundreds of photos, which are all up at my Flickr account.

Friday found me visiting Abbey Road in a fit of fangirl geekitude, then wandering Covent Garden and Soho before doing my Christmas shopping at Harrod's. I later met with a small gang of Harry Potter nerds, and we watched Dan Radcliffe being absolutely adorable on Jonathan Ross's television programme.

It was off to Canterbury on Saturday to see Neil Gaiman give a reading and a talk, and sign some books, but not before a jaunt to Brighton to visit friends. A rather hectic way to spend Guy Fawkes Night, but the fireworks as seen from the train along the English countryside were well worth it, as were good friends by the sea and Neil Gaiman's general awesomeness.

And then it was Sunday, a most surreal day. In the morning I nipped off to Soho for a press screening of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, thanks to HPANA.com who asked me to represent them at the London premiere of the film. After viewing it (and oh, it's a fantastic film) it was off to Leicester Square for the actual premiere. I've never covered such an event before and it was really quite surreal to be in the press pens along with the BBC and Sky and People Magazine, etc. Got the chance to speak with nearly the entire cast, including Dan Radcliffe and Emma Watson, Mark Williams and Robbie Coltrane and Shirley Henderson, and Timothy Spall - among many others. I am still a bit dazed, and sometimes I wonder if I just imagined the entire thing! Eventually, my report and photos will be up at HPANA.com, for all to see.

On Monday I was meant to be on the 1040 train to Paris, but circumstances (and a warning from the State Dept.) prevented it. The riots in Paris notwithstanding, my bank card went missing and forced me to rearrange a few things. Thankfully, I am in an English-speaking country surrounded by friends and familiar places, and so the prospect of not having access to funds was not as scary as it might have otherwise been. Instead it was more frustrating, though I am glad to say that today, everything is sorted out. I have had an extra couple of days in London as a result, and it has been nice to do nothing more than catch up on e-mail and rest (and fight off this annoying little cold).

I leave for Brussels on Thursday, and am still deciding whether or not to go straight from there to Amsterdam or take a couple of hours and see a bit of Belgium. Time is of the essence however, and it might not fit into my (newly-revised) schedule. I'll have to see.

And there you go! A very busy but entertaining and oftentimes completely mental week in London. I hate to leave, because I have come to find the city familiar and enjoyable - but the continent awaits!

For now though, bed.

Tower.

Thu, 03 Nov 2005 23:06:54 GMT

The Tower of London.

I really enjoyed it. Touristy, but you could still get lost a bit. I loved the graffitti on the walls from prisoners, and standing where poor Jane Grey and Queen Anne lost their heads was sobering. The entire time I was there I had a strange sense of being watched, followed, even touched as I passed through narrow staircases and doorways. I felt warm in the church though it was a damp, dreary day. And on the Wall Walk, I was struck by a terrible, overwhelming sense of deja vu, though I've never been to the Tower before.

All in all, worth the money and the four hours I spent wandering round it.

Wed, 02 Nov 2005 18:29:41 GMT

This was meant to be a post about London yesterday and today, but I am too exhausted to manage it. Also, someone chucked himself under the Tube today, which I know happens often and I myself am quite accustomed to this sort of thing having lived in New York City, however today this brought on an immense amount of guilt and bad karma, not to mention bollocksed up the trains I was meant to be on which meant loads of walking in the rain. So, I am tired, grumpy and sad, and shall be having a very quiet and woebegone evening in I think tonight.

I did take some photos of the Tower and its bridge, and I shall upload them tonight.

Picture update!

Tue, 01 Nov 2005 21:47:12 GMT

The London photos.

Click me!

Walking in London...

Tue, 01 Nov 2005 11:52:54 GMT

My last trip to London - barring a brief stopover at Heathrow en route to Ireland for the Millennium in 1999 - was in 1995. I was 18 years old and I'd never once been out of the country before. I hadn't even been to Canada or Mexico, so London was my very first experience with a foreign country.

I can remember that flight perfectly - Virgin Atlantic from San Francisco, endlessly long and arduous journey. Free socks and toothbrushes! And landing in London I was completely confused, looking for the people who were to meet me but still trying to take it all in. Confusing currency, odd accents and a city that made San Francisco look nearly unconscious. I was only in London for three days and I saw very little of it, but it was fascinating. Overwhelming but fascinating.

Ten years later and I'm no longer the befuddled teenager but a well-traveled adult. I've been back to Ireland a few times since that first journey, and I've been to Canada and Mexico, but I haven't been back to England properly since that first trip. Thankfully, this time I have a longer stay in London, with the possibility of a nip up to Edinburgh (which will mark my first time in Scotland, where my great-grandfather was born and raised). I won't be on my own unless I want to be, which will be nice. And I am determined to see the things that I missed the last time around.

There are a couple of things that I want to do that likely mark me not only as a great tourist but a nerd as well: the ducks (if there are any) at St James Park and Abbey Road. The latter might make sense to most people but the former - only a precious few of you might get that. ;-)

Right! I am off!

PS: John is a gracious and lovely host. Is also quite swishy when wearing a cape.

Dublin/Wexford

Mon, 31 Oct 2005 12:15:02 GMT

And here I am back in Dublin yet again, though only for an hour or so. After much confusion last night with the time change, I wound up at the bus station in Galway at half six in the morning, a good two hours before my bus was due to depart. Stood around for an hour and caught the earlier bus back to Dublin, rather than wait another hour in the chilly morning. As a result I saw a lovely sunrise as we left Galway, and on the bus I met a couple from Fresno, CA of all places. The funniest bit was when the bus driver was giving them directions to all sorts of places in Dublin city centre, and they replied, "That's nice, but could you just tell us where the Starbucks is?"

...now do you understand why I travel in winter? Dear World: Not all American tourists are this daft. Really. I promise.

Have just had a surprisingly decent ham-and-cheese sandwich from the little shop here in the station, and am ripping my new Christy Moore CD to put on the iPod for my listening pleasure on the way to Wexford. I need to thin out my bag again - I don't get it, I haven't bought anything and yet my bag keeps getting heavier and heavier. I've even sent THREE parcels back home already! What the hell?

Might take a nap when I reach Wexford, and definitely a shower. I hope this hostel isn't wretched. I am all for traveling on the cheap but not at the expense of certain comforts, like hot water and feeling safe. It's tempting to just B&B it the rest of the time. I don't know. I know where I am stayin in Germany for the most part anyway, at least until Berlin. I'll work on planning that when I get to London.

London!

I am told that Britain does not switch their clocks until next weekend. Clearly there is a time-conspiracy at work here, and Europe is having a great big intercultural laugh at the expense of the confused little American. I should just assume I am going to be late and early, at the same time, for everything. Right.

[Have only been back in Dublin for twenty minutes and am reminded why I gave up on it last week - slack-jawed youths in too much eyeliner nattering on their bloody mobiles which are clearly attached to the sides of their heads, and all of them are standing in my way, and I have the sense that if I mentioned the Burren to any one of them their response would be, "Is that in Finglas?"]

Anyway.

My arse hurts. This floor is not conducive to long-term sitting. Ouch.

WEXFORD

I have officially reached my limit as far as buses are concerned. From Galway to Dublin to Wexford, I spent about six hours on buses yesterday and I am done with them. As I write this I am on a lovely train (and we're just getting into the Gorey station, as a matter of fact) and it is a much nicer journey. My compliments to Iarnród Éireann for, well, not being Bus Éireann.

So! Got into Wexford at about 1600 yesterday, in the blustering wind and rain. Got spectacularly lost trying to find the hostel because Mary Street is not marked, and is small and tucked back in behind the main road. Thankfully, a very nice woman called Mary found me roaming about looking confused and actually walked me to my hostel before going on her own way.

The hostel was very rough around the edges, but charming. The fellow who ran it was called Martin and doubled as a music writer for the local newspaper. He was very nice and coincidentally was going to be reviewing Luka's show that night, so we had a nice chat about him and I helped him with a few facts here and there. My room companions were all from California as well, save one soft-spoken (and not bad-looking!) fellow from Cork. The hostel had a very home-like, warm feeling to it - especially after I got a good hot shower!

I wandered Wexford for a while, because the show didn't start until 2330. After exploring for a bit I found a good Chinese take-away and went back to the hostel to inhale a plate of beef broccoli and read trashy magazines. In the TV room they were watching Clint Eastwood films. I got a chance to relax a bit after the journey and before the concert.

Wexford is a nice place. The people are very friendly and there were nice shops and pubs, and the whole place is right on the water. The bus journey there, while long, was in fact rather beautiful. Rolling green hills dotted with stones and sheep, with the odd glimpse of village and sea between the trees. And with the opera festival going on in Wexford there was loads of art on display, opera could be heard in the streets and all the pubs had live music going on inside them. And it wasn't too crowded, which was also a relief.

Finally, I made my way to the theatre and got my ticket. The queue was hilarious - the average age had to be about 45-50 and most of them all were dressed formally. Monkey suits and sequins! I felt a bit scruffy in my jeans and anorak. So all these older people were queueing up in the theatre, and you could tell none of them had really been in a queue in a long time. They looked confused. It was funny.

The show had a standard set though Luka seemed determined to win over the odd crowd with particularly funny introductions to songs and by keeping things at a quick pace. He didn't play too many slow songs - it was very late! - and the fast songs seemed even faster. I have decided that 'Lonesome Robin' is one of my favourite songs, and we got 'Bogman' - for the first time in ages! With the first chorus in Finnish no less. All in all a lovely concert, stark contrast to Whelans which was more or less a big party. This was a proper sit-down sort of a show and while the audience was very reserved, they did laugh in all the right places and they were properly appreciative. I saw quite a few CDs being sold in the lobby afterward!

[This is funny: after the show we were out in the hall, and this couple who'd been at the Whelans show and at the Helix were talking to himself. I was a few feet away inspecting some paintings on display, not really paying attention until I heard them asking him about 'the woman at Whelans who'd seen all the U2 shows.'

I looked up, and Luka looked back with his crooked little grin.

'She's standing right there, actually,' he said, pointing. Everyone within earshot laughed. Augh. I'll never live this down, will I?]

After a hot cup of tea I went back to my hostel at about 0230, chatted with Martin a bit and then went to have a little sleep before my 0700 alarm went off. Trudged back to the train station and had a bear of a time with it - first one of my bags broke from being soaked in the pouring rain, and then the ticket machine wouldn't take credit or anything larger than €20, when the ATM machine only gave €50. Roar! Not the sort of thing you want to deal with when you're soggy and not really awake.

Am fine now, on the train and I think since the weather's so dreary and the view's not so great I'll instead have a nice nap. Hopefully I'll have enough time in the airport in Dublin to be able to post this, otherwise it'll have to wait.

Next stop, London!

Happy Hallowe'en!

Plans are made to be shattered...

Sat, 29 Oct 2005 19:39:50 GMT

While traveling alone can make one lonely, there's an awful lot of freedom it affords you which is handy when plans change - either by God's hand or your own.

For example: I left Dublin for Galway, which was not the original plan. Nevertheless I wound up in Galway, having decided I was finished with Dublin, and then I made in Doolin which was I think fate, because of the blessed weather I was granted. I wouldn't have had such weather had I gone first to Cork as planned.

Today I found myself back in Galway a day before I was due to be, and this time it was the rain that drove me out of Clare. I had thought I was going to go back to Dublin, spend a night with Las, and then catch my flight to London on Monday, but I've just had a last-minute encouragement to go to Wexford instead and the opera festival there. I've just booked a bed in the only hostel in town with availability - it sounds a bit shite but hey, it's a place to sleep right?

Now the plan stands: catch the early bus to Wexford tomorrow, catch a late show there, then take the early train back to Dublin so as to catch an airport bus, for my flight at 2pm. It sounds a lot more involved than it actually is.

Wexford! What the hell is in Wexford?

And then it's bedtime, if I'm going to get any sleep before the drunkards come in from their pre-Hallowe'en celebrations. :P

More photos!

Sat, 29 Oct 2005 17:07:43 GMT

Not so many this time, but still: Clicky here.

No matter where you go, there you are.

Sat, 29 Oct 2005 16:31:59 GMT

Last night found me in McGann's for a night of music and drink. Mostly drink. I went with some of my hostel mates: Elvin and Marion of Portland, Australia; Sam of Australia, and Britain (yes, that is his real name) of Boston. They were all great fun to be around, and we drank pints and whiskey and listened to jigs and reels. And we people watched! There was a girl dressed in - I'm not joking - a long red frothy sort of a skirt, leg-warmers, Nike trainers, and two tank-tops. And it was all skin-tight and she kept falling out of it; at one point she put on her coat and we all got a lovely view of crack - not craic but the other sort. Yikes!

There were also this couple, who looked terribly British - the woman had a pinched sort of face of permanent disgust, and the man was very buttoned-up, with little spectacles and perfect hair. They sat in a snug looking as if their seats were made of broken glass, and on either side of them were two aul' fellows, who kept chattering at them. The woman kept inching closer to her husband. You got the sense that this would not go down as one of the better holidays despite the great atmosphere of the room. I think they'd have been miserable no matter what.

The plan was to take a ferry to Inis Óir, the smaller of the three Aran Islands, in the early morning. Brit(ain) said he'd come along, so we got up and set out for the pier - in bucketing rain. Needless to say, the ferries weren't running and won't be until Spring 2006. Fair enough. Hike back to the hostel and the rain is lashing, the wind pushing you back... Not a very good day at all! Brit and I instead made breakfast, and were soon joined by the Australian couple and Barb, my Canadian cyclist roommate. The Australians had brought with them a tube of Vegemite, which I had never had (and for good reason, as I found out when Marion offered me a taste). We chatted for a bit, which was nice - a warm kitchen full of nice people and good food makes bad weather tolerable.

After a while, I decided that since the weather was not showing signs of clearing up, I was going to catch the 1345 bus back to Galway. If I'm going to be stuck in lousy weather, let me at least be in a city where I can go to a shop or the cinema (and let me have a hostel with free wireless!). As it had been before the bus back was a gorgeous trip, rain or no - in fact, the clouds made it all the more beautiful. They moved over the limestone mountains, casting shadows and then allowing the light to come through. On the small, winding road to Ballyvaughan there was a corridor of trees, with leaves scattering in the wind and the Burren stretching all round for miles and miles, and I spent the rest of the journey in tears. Literal tears - they were pouring down my face. I thought for a bit that I might just be exhausted, but I know better - Clare is just that beautiful. It's overwhelming, and when you take it all in you get full up so fast that there's no way to let it out other than to cry - or scream, or write, or sing.

I get it now. I get why this place changes people. I get it.

And now, I am back in Galway where I have secured a rain jacket, a fluffy towel and Christy Moore's new CD Burning Times. I may seek out Chinese take-away later, but for now I am going to sit still, dry off, and sort out the trip back to Dublin tomorrow.

I will go back there. To Clare.

I will.

Footsteps... I could learn to listen...

Fri, 28 Oct 2005 17:12:08 GMT

I want to live here. I want to raise my children here. I want to grow old here.

Greetings from Co Clare - Doolin, to be specific. It is a small village known for music, but it should also be known for friendly people and an incredibly beautiful backyard. The bus from Galway took me right through the Burren, which is a limestone 'desert' of sorts on the west coast of Ireland. It's gorgeous, and I can't describe it so I'll let the photos tell you everything.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nicebunchofgirls/sets/1232952/

Had a lovely lunch with A, who then gave me a lift to the Cliffs of Mohr. They are every bit spectacular as the guidebooks and picture books say. You stand on the cliff and there's just nothing between you and the sea. The weather was gorgeous and the wind was brilliant and I felt for a moment as though I might just be able to fly, if I were to just open up my arms wide enough.

Walked back to Doolin, which was a good hike but absolutely beautiful - it was just me and the sea (and some cows, but they were very nice cows). Eventually I met a farmer repairing a rock wall and he made certain I was going in the proper direction for Doolin. Then he asked 'what's the story with all the storrums goin' on there in Amurrica? What's causin' 'em, d'ya think?'

Me: 'Clearly, we've annoyed someone.'

He laughed, and waved me on my way. Along the rest of the way I found wild blackberries, a bit of rain, an abandoned famine-era farm and some friendly fellow hostel-dwellers from Canada, Australia and ... Boston! There's a local band playing tonight and we're all going to wander over and have a listen. I haven't got out after dark really at all since Luka's gig at Whelans, so this will be brilliant. First though, I think I need to go and eat something! And relax a bit!

Tomorrow: if the weather's decent I will venture to Inisheer, the smaller of the Aran Islands. If the weather's dodgy or the ferries aren't going, I will instead walk/cycle to Lisdoonvarna, or tackle one of the Burren trails. Not certain yet.

Got to go. An Atlantic sunset beckons.

Electric Avenue...

Thu, 27 Oct 2005 20:50:48 GMT

Let this be the first adventure of my... adventure. An adventure in: laundry!

I am staying in Sleepzone Galway, which is an awesome hostel. It's not directly IN the middle of the city centre but it's damn near close, so it's quiet but convenient. There's free internet access - including Wi-Fi! - and in the house I am occupying, free laundry.

Now, I am pretty savvy when it comes to electronics, but it took me an hour to work out how to use the washing machine. When I finally did (and that involved a lot of buttons and dials and whatnot) I went up and read the newspaper while my clothes were cleaned. La la la, go down and put them in the dryer. Twist, punch, bob's your uncle, right?

Wrong.

After a few minutes it became apparent that the dryer was not, in fact, drying. No idea why. Go to reception and the insanely cute and polite Italian (?) girl working the desk had no idea, but she gave me a token for the communal laundry here in the main hostel and said I could dry my clothes here. Which had me hauling my wet things across the road, giggling because I am unkempt, freshly-showered and disheveled at best. And laughing. Holding soggy socks and knickers.

So, here I am at 9pm, sitting in the kitchen in my pyjamas while my clothes dry. Actually, while I WAIT to dry my clothes, because there is someone else using the dryer at the moment.

[We're not even going to address the issue of the electric shower. WTF? How does that even make sense? Electricity + water = ZOT. Honestly.]

Roysh, so...

Thu, 27 Oct 2005 15:16:28 GMT

Ah, I have escaped Dublin for the lovely (moist) shores of Galway City. My hostel has wireless (FREE wireless) and I have my own room in a little house on a tiny lane. I'm here for the night, then tomorrow I get to figure out how to get to Doolin, and from there Miltown Malbay to pay a friend a visit. Would like to make it to Fanore but not this trip, I'm afraid. I'm determined to see the Burren however and I do not care if it is bucketing down, I will cycle through at least a bit of it.

Then it's back to Dublin for a flight to England, thus ending my Irish adventures. Woe.

Zoom!

"It's like Luka in your living room!"

Wed, 26 Oct 2005 18:31:27 GMT

"I'm glad you said 'living room, mate."

Best gig yet. Longest gig yet! Thirty songs nearly!

Met up last night with my old friend Brian before the gig - Luka Bloom at Whelans. Had a bit of dinner before queueing up. Fair amount of people in attendance, it filled up very fast and after a bit of jockeying for position we were rescued and waved upstairs to huddle in a corner of the balcony. Fine by me, as I have the uncanny knack of standing behind or under very very tall people. And a very very tall blondey woman decided that where I'd been standing was where she ought to be standing, so she stood there regardless of the fact that I was already occupying the spot. Roar. Get thee to the balcony!

Saw and said hello to Alyanya who is still lovely and delightful!

[The only thing about sitting upstairs is that it seemed to be the place where all the people who didn't pay for tickets were sitting and, with the notable exception of family and friends, those are the people who tend to talktalktalk through everything. Naturally they all seemed to be sitting directly behind us, which was immensely annoying because I did not fly thousands of miles just to listen to Sorcha's Dublin feckin' 4 accent yammering to Mumsy on the mobile the entire time. Perhaps I am just old and cranky, but Jesus Christ, shut the bloody thing off for a couple of hours, will you?

Sorry. Rant over. Back to the review, now.]
Eithne Ni Cathain warmed us up, singing very lovely sean nós tunes plus a few folky ones. I have to say she seems much more comfortable and sure of herself when she's singing in Irish rather than in English though I would think that it has to be a bit nerve-wracking to not only open for Luka but also open for Luka at Whelans, so fair play to her! Lovely voice, lovely songs. The last song which had a title that was Irish for 'prayer' (not going to try and spell it) was very beautiful.

Luka's set list, scribbled down by me - new songs without proper titles that I know are in quotes:

I Am Not At War With Anyone
NEW: 'There Is a Time'
NEW: 'Open Up Your Arms'
Blackberry Time
Lonesome Robin
Innocence
No Matter Where You Go, There You Are
Here and Now
Diamond Mountain
Sunny Sailor Boy
Inbetween Days [The 'goth' moment.]
To Make You Feel My Love
Water Ballerina
[Here Luka brought on Ken ('It is Ken, is it?') who played the sax brilliantly on the next few songs marked with asterisks.]
Peace On Earth*
Love Is a Place*
Primavera*
City of Chicago*
June
Thank You for Bringing Me Here w/Eithne
Gypsy Music w/ Eithne*
NEW: 'The Light Inside' [for Rosa Parks] w/ Eithne

Encore:
Exploring the Blue
Gone to Pablo
Love Is a Monsoon
Bad
Rainbow Day
You Couldn't Have Come At a Better Time
The Man is Alive/Hill of Allen

As you can see this was a neverending night of brilliant music. The saxophone (or 'the thingy' as I called it later, because I couldn't see him) was an excellent touch, what an amazing addition that was. That's something we don't get much of at the shows in the states, understandably of course - but it's wonderful to hear little surprises like that. 'Love Is a Place' with the sax was the best performance of that song I've ever heard.

The new songs were great. A couple of them I have heard, as far back as two or three years ago in San Francisco ['The Light Inside'], but one I had never heard before, the one I wrote down as 'There Is a Time.' Lovely song, lovely.

It's very interesting to see Luka with a proper Irish home audience. The Helix was a great event, but the crowd was a very mixed one - described by many as a sort of musical UN summit. Whelans was Irish, and Dublin with a few folks from the rest of the country thrown in here and there, and that made it an excellent sort of a party atmosphere. It really did feel like a session in a living room, Luka and a few close friends and family. There was a very silly but joyful attitude in the room - like McGann's in Boston times ten thousand. And in half the space! Whelans is tiny!

'Bad' was outstanding, with the entire room joining in to sing it. And, er, it was played for 'a woman all the way here from America, who's fresh from her 47th U2 concert, but this is her 50th Luka Bloom concert so she's got her priorities straight.' The crowd laughed, and some joker shouted out 'PSYCHO!' which is fair enough, I suppose. Then Luka said, 'I'll play the song for you but so long as you don't start stalking me!'

Ah, a bit late for that, I suspect. Er. Right.

But the whole room lit up and sang the song and really, it was magical and it's very nice that Luka played it because I've never managed to get U2 to do it!

Afterward Brian had to flee because of an early rise for work the next morning, so I lurked about feeling terribly foreign and American and was eventually rescued and petted and talked to for a bit, which was nice. The long walk back to my B&B was very interesting as one street I was on was totally deserted. Needless to say I had the mobile in my hand with 999 pre-dialed though nothing happened save for couples snogging in doorways and the odd drunk contributing to the eternal beauty of the Liffey.

Ah, Dublin.

Now I am in a cafe of some sort on O'Connell Street after a long and fruitless search for wireless internet (or 'idirlíon gan leictreachas'). I had lunch with lasultrix earlier - poor thing must loathe me now for being a disappointing visitor - cranky with a bad foot and no appetite. So much woe. But all is well now, I am fed and fat and happy, I have my internet and soon I will be leaving Dublin for all points west!

Off to Clare!

Dublin Day 1: Howth.

Tue, 25 Oct 2005 16:13:38 GMT

See the photos here.

Las is an excellent if incredibly random and SPEEDY tour guide, as evidenced by our travels around Howth. Howth is a lovely little fishing village-cum-posh postcode north of Dublin proper. It has a very lovely view of the entire bay that is well worth the walk up up up up up the hills. Loads of very nice houses everywhere with silly names (Rockmara, etc) and little paths and a ruined church and all that sort of thing. Really quite nice, though I was completely exhausted from jet lag and not having slept except for about 20 minutes allowed to me by Las. Then we had a brilliant dinner at Luigi Malone's and I went back to my room at 9.30pm and slept until nearly 2pm.

Now I am awake! And in a bit I shall head on over to Eddie Rockets to meet my mate B for dinnery things, and then Luka Bloom at Whelans!

I am staying in a very nice B&B called the Townhouse which is on the northside of Dublin, on Lower Gardiner Street. It's so ridiculously close to the DART and the bus station, but it's very nice and I shall probably stay there again should I ever have the need to. I like it better than the Harcourt which was too far south and forced me to walk down Grafton Street more often than I would have cared to. Now I am just a moment from Henry Street which is much better.

Okay, the internet is expensive so I am off!

AIIIEE.

Sun, 23 Oct 2005 02:19:51 GMT

*runs around in circles*

Slight change in plans...

Fri, 21 Oct 2005 22:14:33 GMT

Have decided that instead of the standard touristy destinations of Venice and Florence and Vienna, I am going to stay in Eastern Europe and hit Transylvania, Budapest and Sarajevo, then take a ferry from Split to Italy.

Advice?

Leaving.

Fri, 30 Sep 2005 13:22:22 GMT

Met Maya again late last night for large dinner of a Chinese nature (and it was very good - Maya, where was that place, must remember for next time). We chattered and chatted and chewed, and wandered until alas, Maya caught a train and was whisked away. I went back to my hotel and quite literally collapsed, exhausted and feeling very ill. I was certain I was coming down with something, but after a little sleep I felt much better.

Unfortunately my sleep was interrupted by the bastard next door, who talked loudly and stomped and bumped around his room at half-four in the bloody morning. I pounded on the wall in an effort to get him to knock it off, but my efforts were in vain. He finally quieted down about an hour later, and I managed to go back to sleep at about 6am only to wake again two hours later. I gave up after that, rolled out of bed and finished packing.

Since it was so early, I dropped off my bags at reception after check-out and caught a DART to Killiney. I hadn't been out of Dublin at all and I was just sick to death of people and cars and buses and people and the Luas and people and did I mention people? So I went down to Killiney and walked along the beach, which was deserted and windy and wet and absolutely brilliant. I must have just stood there for nearly half an hour.

I left the beach through a very steep tunnel that ran up to Vico Road. (And for anyone curious, no I didn't go knocking on Bono's door, because I did that ten years ago and he's not home anyway.) Got back on the DART and went back into the city to get my bags and toddle off to the airport.

Easier said than done!

It took bloody forever for them to find my bags, and then it took bloody forever for them to get round to arranging a taxi for me to Busáras. Eventually, I gave up and went and got a taxi myself, and he was a brilliant fellow who knew all about Jack L and Luka and was very impressed that I knew all about Jack L and Luka. :) It was worth the €20 just to chat with him for twenty minutes.

Now I am in the gate waiting for my flight. I'll have photos later tonight! I sent out some postcards but others will have to wait until the next trip.

And that is my flight!