(Temple Bar District that is.)
My first Temple Bar experience actually came from The Auld Dubliner bar (pub), where we wandered in after hearing loud, raucous music seeping out the doorway. Once inside, we were overwhelmed by the musical stylings of Brian Brody, who played old Irish ditties accompanied by the many Irish folk in the bar, singing/screaming along with the fervor of crazed rugby fans. They knew ALL the words to ALL the songs. We did not.
In addition to Irish tunes such as “sad to say I must be on my way, so buy me beer and whiskey 'cause I'm going far away,” and “she’s handsome, she’s pretty, she’s the belle of Belfast city” Brian (who has a great name!) also played such classics as Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire,” John Denver’s “Country Road,” Something-or-other’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” and some other ones which I have forgotten in the 30 minutes it took to get home. During the country songs, Brian called out to the pub for the audience to provide some “yeehaws,” which my father was only too happy to enthusiastically yell out.
Regardless of the song’s origin, Irish or American, there was much singing along, which got louder and louder as more drinks were consumed. A good/drunk time was had by all!
So for now my future plans include many weekends at The Auld Dubliner, where I will learn all the words to all the pub songs and become best friends with Brian Brody’s (beautiful) girlfriend whom I smiled at tonight as I squeezed past to go to the ladies room. She said “there you go, love” as she moved aside. So what I’m saying is we are pretty much besties already. And when it’s official we will sing/scream together along to all the Irish ditties.
In other news: On the DART tram home there were two men wearing security-style belts and vests that proclaimed RAIL SECURITY (Michael Mohr?). Do with that what you will.
PICTURE POST COMING SOON! YAY!
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Saturday, August 29, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday at the Horseshoe (8/26 post)
[The internetz on our journey throughout the countryside has been pretty much hit-or-miss, with wifi specifically being miss. For example, I am currently sitting in a closet in the attic at Frank and Kay’s, the only spot in their house with service. So I typed these posts up previously and am uploading them now.]
As I write this, I am in bed at the Horseshoe House bed & breakfast in Doolin, a small town near the Cliffs of Moher (HARRY POTTER SITE!!!!). Anyway, I find the location slightly ironic, as this same night in Jackson, sorority ladies will be fraternizing with freshies, awkwardly interacting at the sketch Horseshoe bar whilst trying desperately not to hotbox.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Jackson and the ole Saps. I really started this whole study abroad thing because I needed so badly to get away, from Millsaps and Mississippi and more. A lot of things changed very quickly, and suddenly what I thought my college would be wasn’t an option anymore. So I had this idea, and against all odds, it actually happened.
But it’s good. It’s what I needed. I needed this is be excited again. About Ireland, of course, but also excited about going back. About returning to a place that, to be honest, has been pretty disappointing to me lately. But the rain of Ireland might just be what it takes to wash away the chip on my shoulder.
In other news: For the past couple nights we have been watching the Rose of Tralee contest on the telly, which is basically the Irish Miss America except there’s no swimsuit section, its more about personality and less about looks, and any girl with Irish heritage can enter – even if she herself is not actually Irish (there were British and Australian and Texan and New Orlean and more contestants). So the current plan is that I have about three more years to find a way to become the Mississippi Rose and go to the Rose of Tralee contest! In case you are interested, the London Rose won this year, and she had a funky hairdo.
In other other news: Anne’s promises of Ireland being a veritable redheaded oasis have thus far proved false. While there have been a few redheads, there is definitely no overwhelming amount. In fact, they are scarce enough that when either my dad or I spot one, we immediately and awkwardly point it out to the other one (occasionally loudly and with finger pointing). We are embarrassing.
As I write this, I am in bed at the Horseshoe House bed & breakfast in Doolin, a small town near the Cliffs of Moher (HARRY POTTER SITE!!!!). Anyway, I find the location slightly ironic, as this same night in Jackson, sorority ladies will be fraternizing with freshies, awkwardly interacting at the sketch Horseshoe bar whilst trying desperately not to hotbox.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Jackson and the ole Saps. I really started this whole study abroad thing because I needed so badly to get away, from Millsaps and Mississippi and more. A lot of things changed very quickly, and suddenly what I thought my college would be wasn’t an option anymore. So I had this idea, and against all odds, it actually happened.
But it’s good. It’s what I needed. I needed this is be excited again. About Ireland, of course, but also excited about going back. About returning to a place that, to be honest, has been pretty disappointing to me lately. But the rain of Ireland might just be what it takes to wash away the chip on my shoulder.
In other news: For the past couple nights we have been watching the Rose of Tralee contest on the telly, which is basically the Irish Miss America except there’s no swimsuit section, its more about personality and less about looks, and any girl with Irish heritage can enter – even if she herself is not actually Irish (there were British and Australian and Texan and New Orlean and more contestants). So the current plan is that I have about three more years to find a way to become the Mississippi Rose and go to the Rose of Tralee contest! In case you are interested, the London Rose won this year, and she had a funky hairdo.
In other other news: Anne’s promises of Ireland being a veritable redheaded oasis have thus far proved false. While there have been a few redheads, there is definitely no overwhelming amount. In fact, they are scarce enough that when either my dad or I spot one, we immediately and awkwardly point it out to the other one (occasionally loudly and with finger pointing). We are embarrassing.
Smoochin’ the Stone (8/25 post)
[The internetz on our journey throughout the countryside has been pretty much hit-or-miss, with wifi specifically being miss. For example, I am currently sitting in a closet in the attic at Frank and Kay’s, the only spot in their house with service. So I typed these posts up previously and am uploading them now.]
Today I kissed the Blarney Stone, an Irish tradition said to bring the kisser the gift of “eloquence” (aka the ability to shittalk/schmooze). Well, I’m not sure if I’ve received eloquence, but I smooched the stone and just about peed my pants/ran away several times. Why, you ask? Because, despite my previous belief, the stone is not just chilling in some courtyard somewhere, but in fact five or six stories up on the parapet of the castle. To get there you have to go up all six (or five) stories in a super skinny stone spiral staircase (check out that alliteration!) which is SCARY. (At least for me, because I’m a ‘fraidycat.) Then, when you finally make it out onto the castle roof, you have to go around the parapet to the Blarney Stone. To kiss it, you have to sit on your butt and lean backwards out over the ground SIX STORIES DOWN. You can see the little people below. I don’t like it. You grab some bars and this worker dude holds on to you and you have to scooch upside down until you can reach it with your kisser. WHILE YOU HANG OVER THE EDGE OF A CASTLE! But I smooched it and I smooched it good. And then I immediately headed for solid ground.
Sidenote: My cousin Moira, when she lived in London, heard stories of local boys climbing the tower to pee on the stone (Bacot?). But at the time I was much more worried about death than pee. So hopefully that is just an urban legend.
Today I kissed the Blarney Stone, an Irish tradition said to bring the kisser the gift of “eloquence” (aka the ability to shittalk/schmooze). Well, I’m not sure if I’ve received eloquence, but I smooched the stone and just about peed my pants/ran away several times. Why, you ask? Because, despite my previous belief, the stone is not just chilling in some courtyard somewhere, but in fact five or six stories up on the parapet of the castle. To get there you have to go up all six (or five) stories in a super skinny stone spiral staircase (check out that alliteration!) which is SCARY. (At least for me, because I’m a ‘fraidycat.) Then, when you finally make it out onto the castle roof, you have to go around the parapet to the Blarney Stone. To kiss it, you have to sit on your butt and lean backwards out over the ground SIX STORIES DOWN. You can see the little people below. I don’t like it. You grab some bars and this worker dude holds on to you and you have to scooch upside down until you can reach it with your kisser. WHILE YOU HANG OVER THE EDGE OF A CASTLE! But I smooched it and I smooched it good. And then I immediately headed for solid ground.
Sidenote: My cousin Moira, when she lived in London, heard stories of local boys climbing the tower to pee on the stone (Bacot?). But at the time I was much more worried about death than pee. So hopefully that is just an urban legend.
Monday, August 24, 2009
the adventure thickens...
So we rented a car.
Have I mentioned that the cars are small because the roads are TINY? And that they twist and turn like mad (“Slow: Dangerous Bends Ahead”)? And that my father, the driver, has never driven on the left before (“Left lane, Russell” being the quote of the past two days)? And that there are super tall hedges/bushes/forests growing on both sides of the road so that every turn is completely blind? And that the Irish drive like madmen???
But, despite all odds, with Dad’s driving, my navigating and Mom’s white-knuckle stressing in the backseat we have made it thus far with all limbs, tires and fenders intact BUT without the left side mirror which was ripped off the car in a very exciting (read: scary) moment today.
Currently I am blogging from Kinsale, a cute little harbor town known for some mighty fine eating.
SPEAKING of eating (nice segway, right?), I am going to gain 5290532709 pounds on this trip if the first week is anything to judge by. After leaving Frank and Kay’s, we drove down the coast, stopping to look at cool/interesting/Irish things along the way to Wexford. There we met up with Niamh (pronounced “neev”) and Eamon (pronounced “ay-min”) who are my mom’s second cousins. They immediately took us in, boozed us up, and continually thrust more and more delicious foods at us until bedtime. All the while Eamon taught us important things about Ireland, such as that hair straighteners are called GHDs, which stands for “good hair day” (and by the way, the Irish pronounce Hs like “haych” instead of “aych”). He also informed us of the vital differences between Dublin northsiders and southsiders.
For example:
What do you call a northsider in a suit?
(pause for dramatic effect…)
The defendant.
(ba dum bum ch!)
They even hosted a little dinner where we got to meet even more O’Rourkes like my third cousins Sinead (pronounced “shin-aid”), Oisin (“o-she-an”), Grainne (“gron-yay”), Ciara (“keer-a”) and Daire (“dare-a”). Needless to say, I didn’t attempt anyone’s name for some time.
Anyway, even though Eamon and ole Russ are besties now we eventually left Wexford behind and spent today checking out some castle-y ruins (the Rock of Cashel was awesome) and some sheep (they literally dot the countryside) and some art (among which was a wicker dragon – ha!).
Have I mentioned that the cars are small because the roads are TINY? And that they twist and turn like mad (“Slow: Dangerous Bends Ahead”)? And that my father, the driver, has never driven on the left before (“Left lane, Russell” being the quote of the past two days)? And that there are super tall hedges/bushes/forests growing on both sides of the road so that every turn is completely blind? And that the Irish drive like madmen???
But, despite all odds, with Dad’s driving, my navigating and Mom’s white-knuckle stressing in the backseat we have made it thus far with all limbs, tires and fenders intact BUT without the left side mirror which was ripped off the car in a very exciting (read: scary) moment today.
Currently I am blogging from Kinsale, a cute little harbor town known for some mighty fine eating.
SPEAKING of eating (nice segway, right?), I am going to gain 5290532709 pounds on this trip if the first week is anything to judge by. After leaving Frank and Kay’s, we drove down the coast, stopping to look at cool/interesting/Irish things along the way to Wexford. There we met up with Niamh (pronounced “neev”) and Eamon (pronounced “ay-min”) who are my mom’s second cousins. They immediately took us in, boozed us up, and continually thrust more and more delicious foods at us until bedtime. All the while Eamon taught us important things about Ireland, such as that hair straighteners are called GHDs, which stands for “good hair day” (and by the way, the Irish pronounce Hs like “haych” instead of “aych”). He also informed us of the vital differences between Dublin northsiders and southsiders.
For example:
What do you call a northsider in a suit?
(pause for dramatic effect…)
The defendant.
(ba dum bum ch!)
They even hosted a little dinner where we got to meet even more O’Rourkes like my third cousins Sinead (pronounced “shin-aid”), Oisin (“o-she-an”), Grainne (“gron-yay”), Ciara (“keer-a”) and Daire (“dare-a”). Needless to say, I didn’t attempt anyone’s name for some time.
Anyway, even though Eamon and ole Russ are besties now we eventually left Wexford behind and spent today checking out some castle-y ruins (the Rock of Cashel was awesome) and some sheep (they literally dot the countryside) and some art (among which was a wicker dragon – ha!).
Friday, August 21, 2009
LITERARY NERDINESS BEGINS!
Yesterday was a day filled with books! (Clearly the best kind of day.)
We (being myself, the Nancy and the Russell) started the day by indulging in a hop-on hop-off bus tour of Dublin where our tour guide Catherine told us all kinds of interesting tidbits about ye olde city, like that the Millennium Spire has 11,000 holes in the top part for the light to come out of. (I didn’t actually hear that tidbit, but my mom swears that’s what she said).
But our first real stop of the day was the illustrious Trinity College Dublin, famous alma mater of such notables as Oscar Wilde and Jonathan Swift (but not James Joyce, he went to UCD – yay famous people going to my school!). Also at Trinity is the famous Book of Kells, one of the oldest surviving manuscripts in the world. It is a copy of the four gospels copied out by Irish monks and decorated with super-swank calligraphy, portraits and other various decorations. I had thought we would stand in line for an hour, and then look at the book and then it would be done. BUT luckily we went at lunchtime, so the line was nearly nothing and there was a cool museum-type walk-through display thingy (gosh I’m articulate) all about the history of the book and how it was made. Being a bookbinder myself, I nerded out a little.
Then we saw the book and it was cool and all, but THEN… then we went upstairs to “The Long Room.” I WANT THIS ROOM. This room is almost exactly the epitome of the library I want in my house someday, except without the squishy chairs reminiscent of a Hogwarts common room. It was two reaaaaally tall stories, with Beauty and the Beast ladders to get to the upper stacks and a wrought iron spiral staircase. Each little alcove had a bust of a famous Irish writer stationed at its end – Swift, Wilde, etc. I want those Beauty and the Beast ladders. I want that spiral staircase. I even want those busts. Being obsessed with libraries, I nerded out a lot.
After my parents dragged me out of this glorious place, we had lunch. Irish stew and Guinness, the most Irishy meal I can think of. Okay, actually that’s what my dad ate. I had tomato soup, steamed veggies/potatoes and Harp. Only slightly less Irishy.
THEN THE NERDINESS CONTINUED!
We somehow stumbled upon the Charles Beatty Library/Museum, which contained the personal collection of this dude who LOVED books. He had the most eclectic and impressive personal library I’ve ever seen or heard of, including (but not limited to) illustrated copies of the Tale of Genji (Heritage moment #1) and super super old copies of the Bible and the Koran – like 100 A.D. old for the Bible and even older for other works. This dude was awesome. Bibliophiles unite!
So it was sometime after leaving Chuck’s books that Kay called to let us know she had gotten tickets to see a play at the Abbey Theatre – which was founded by W.B. Yeats and Lady Gregory (thank you MacMac). So we went to see The Rivals, a play written by Richard Brinsley Sheridan sometime in the 1700s and famous for popularizing the term “malapropism,” due to the character Miss Malaprop. Awesome end to awesome day.
This is, without a doubt, the longest and nerdiest post ever.
Oh, who am I kidding? This was just day two! It will probably only get worse from here. Cheers!
We (being myself, the Nancy and the Russell) started the day by indulging in a hop-on hop-off bus tour of Dublin where our tour guide Catherine told us all kinds of interesting tidbits about ye olde city, like that the Millennium Spire has 11,000 holes in the top part for the light to come out of. (I didn’t actually hear that tidbit, but my mom swears that’s what she said).
But our first real stop of the day was the illustrious Trinity College Dublin, famous alma mater of such notables as Oscar Wilde and Jonathan Swift (but not James Joyce, he went to UCD – yay famous people going to my school!). Also at Trinity is the famous Book of Kells, one of the oldest surviving manuscripts in the world. It is a copy of the four gospels copied out by Irish monks and decorated with super-swank calligraphy, portraits and other various decorations. I had thought we would stand in line for an hour, and then look at the book and then it would be done. BUT luckily we went at lunchtime, so the line was nearly nothing and there was a cool museum-type walk-through display thingy (gosh I’m articulate) all about the history of the book and how it was made. Being a bookbinder myself, I nerded out a little.
Then we saw the book and it was cool and all, but THEN… then we went upstairs to “The Long Room.” I WANT THIS ROOM. This room is almost exactly the epitome of the library I want in my house someday, except without the squishy chairs reminiscent of a Hogwarts common room. It was two reaaaaally tall stories, with Beauty and the Beast ladders to get to the upper stacks and a wrought iron spiral staircase. Each little alcove had a bust of a famous Irish writer stationed at its end – Swift, Wilde, etc. I want those Beauty and the Beast ladders. I want that spiral staircase. I even want those busts. Being obsessed with libraries, I nerded out a lot.
After my parents dragged me out of this glorious place, we had lunch. Irish stew and Guinness, the most Irishy meal I can think of. Okay, actually that’s what my dad ate. I had tomato soup, steamed veggies/potatoes and Harp. Only slightly less Irishy.
THEN THE NERDINESS CONTINUED!
We somehow stumbled upon the Charles Beatty Library/Museum, which contained the personal collection of this dude who LOVED books. He had the most eclectic and impressive personal library I’ve ever seen or heard of, including (but not limited to) illustrated copies of the Tale of Genji (Heritage moment #1) and super super old copies of the Bible and the Koran – like 100 A.D. old for the Bible and even older for other works. This dude was awesome. Bibliophiles unite!
So it was sometime after leaving Chuck’s books that Kay called to let us know she had gotten tickets to see a play at the Abbey Theatre – which was founded by W.B. Yeats and Lady Gregory (thank you MacMac). So we went to see The Rivals, a play written by Richard Brinsley Sheridan sometime in the 1700s and famous for popularizing the term “malapropism,” due to the character Miss Malaprop. Awesome end to awesome day.
This is, without a doubt, the longest and nerdiest post ever.
Oh, who am I kidding? This was just day two! It will probably only get worse from here. Cheers!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Day One!
Well, after a 2 hour drive, 3 hour wait, 1 hour flight, 30 minute dash through the airport, second 8 hour flight, second 1 hour wait... we’re here!
Actually, we've been here pretty much a whole day, and so far on the first day I’ve taken in three very important characteristics about this gorgeous, green country that differ from the good ole’ U.S. of A:
1. Teeny-weeny cars!
The biggest car I’ve seen (excepting delivery vans, buses and the like) has been a Range Rover. We were picked up in “the biggest car they (being our relatives Frank and Kay) could borrow”… which was a 5-seater hatchback. But it makes sense to have teeny-weeny cars because there are itty-bitty roads. Also, people drive on the wrong/left/non-right side of the road.
2. Words! Funny words!
We took the “lift” (elevator) at the airport! We “posted” (mailed) letters! I can’t wait to buy an Irish “jumper” (sweater) tomorrow! Yay new slang!
3. Fancy-schmancy buildings!
Forget those suburban neighborhoods that get built in a week because all the houses look cheap and exactly the same. Houses and other buildings are made with brick, stone, stucco and brightly colored paint. Rather than fences there are low stone walls around estates, with wrought-iron gates instead of chain-link. The pride in the construction extends to the pride in the house – outside the driveway of almost every house is a sign proclaiming the name of the home or the family that lives in it.
Also, Uncle Frank and Aunt Kay (who aren’t really my uncle and aunt but it is way too complicated to figure out how they are actually related to me, so I’ll just call them Uncle Frank and Aunt Kay) are super nice/cute/talk in cool accents. Frank officially qualifies for Cute Old Man status. And they keep trying to shove more food/tea down our throats in the cutest, nicest way possible.
Tonight’s dinner consisted of:
First course: sliced melon appetizer and gin & tonic
Second course: salmon, broccoli, potatoes and wine
Dessert course: sliced strawberries, fresh cream and Irish whiskey liquor
Yum!
The other main thing pervading through this day is massive jet lag. So, good night from the Emerald Isle!
Actually, we've been here pretty much a whole day, and so far on the first day I’ve taken in three very important characteristics about this gorgeous, green country that differ from the good ole’ U.S. of A:
1. Teeny-weeny cars!
The biggest car I’ve seen (excepting delivery vans, buses and the like) has been a Range Rover. We were picked up in “the biggest car they (being our relatives Frank and Kay) could borrow”… which was a 5-seater hatchback. But it makes sense to have teeny-weeny cars because there are itty-bitty roads. Also, people drive on the wrong/left/non-right side of the road.
2. Words! Funny words!
We took the “lift” (elevator) at the airport! We “posted” (mailed) letters! I can’t wait to buy an Irish “jumper” (sweater) tomorrow! Yay new slang!
3. Fancy-schmancy buildings!
Forget those suburban neighborhoods that get built in a week because all the houses look cheap and exactly the same. Houses and other buildings are made with brick, stone, stucco and brightly colored paint. Rather than fences there are low stone walls around estates, with wrought-iron gates instead of chain-link. The pride in the construction extends to the pride in the house – outside the driveway of almost every house is a sign proclaiming the name of the home or the family that lives in it.
Also, Uncle Frank and Aunt Kay (who aren’t really my uncle and aunt but it is way too complicated to figure out how they are actually related to me, so I’ll just call them Uncle Frank and Aunt Kay) are super nice/cute/talk in cool accents. Frank officially qualifies for Cute Old Man status. And they keep trying to shove more food/tea down our throats in the cutest, nicest way possible.
Tonight’s dinner consisted of:
First course: sliced melon appetizer and gin & tonic
Second course: salmon, broccoli, potatoes and wine
Dessert course: sliced strawberries, fresh cream and Irish whiskey liquor
Yum!
The other main thing pervading through this day is massive jet lag. So, good night from the Emerald Isle!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
top ten
I leave for Ireland in one week. WHAT.
Top Ten Best Things about Ireland (pre-departure version):
10. the luck of the Irish (which I plan to find)
9. the rich history
8. the accents and cool slang
7. the castles!
6. the natural beauty and all the greeeeeeeeeeen
5. the plethora of redheads
4. the O'Rourke family connection
3. the boozes (known worldwide for whiskey and beer? yes please.)
2. the literary history - James Joyce, W.B. Yeats and much more
1. the literary pub crawls - combining #2 and #3 into the best thing ever!
See you in the Emerald Isle!
Top Ten Best Things about Ireland (pre-departure version):
10. the luck of the Irish (which I plan to find)
9. the rich history
8. the accents and cool slang
7. the castles!
6. the natural beauty and all the greeeeeeeeeeen
5. the plethora of redheads
4. the O'Rourke family connection
3. the boozes (known worldwide for whiskey and beer? yes please.)
2. the literary history - James Joyce, W.B. Yeats and much more
1. the literary pub crawls - combining #2 and #3 into the best thing ever!
See you in the Emerald Isle!
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