They may not be kidding about the rain in Ireland, but they certainly aren't about the rainbows. Too bad I didn't find the pot of gold at the end of this one...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The End of the Rainbow
Look! A bona fide Irish rainbow!
They may not be kidding about the rain in Ireland, but they certainly aren't about the rainbows. Too bad I didn't find the pot of gold at the end of this one...
They may not be kidding about the rain in Ireland, but they certainly aren't about the rainbows. Too bad I didn't find the pot of gold at the end of this one...
Monday, August 18, 2008
Weekend Update
So clearly, that last post contained some falsehoods. It may be chilly here in Ireland, but it is definitely not cold enough to snow. And if it were, the constant rain would probably wash it all away... That photo was actually taken (by me) in Galway last weekend, where someone had been carrying out... performance art? with some soap bubbles. A lot of soap bubbles. This weekend actually saw a bit of sun yesterday afternoon (just before it went back to raining), just in time for the All-Ireland Hurling Championship Semi-Finals. Now, as a certified Yank and very new visitor to Ireland, I am seriously under qualified to even attempt to explain what "hurling" is. Contrary to what I would initially understand by that word, this is not a sport in which Irish athletes drink to the point of throwing up. That is in fact called "Saturday night." No, hurling is a very manly sport with a stick that looks more like a weapon than anything else, and I have no idea what the rules are.
In any case, yesterday afternoon, the semi-final match between Tipperary and Waterford was held in the patchy sunlight in Croke Park, the stadium in Dublin, which just happens to be visible from my current residence. Now, normally, Croke Park looks like this:
But yesterday, it looked like this:
As you can see, it was a very big win for Waterford... (In all fairness, they haven't made it to the Final in 45 years, as someone told me as I was taking this picture.) I celebrated by meeting Roisin in the pub where she used to work, which was crammed with supporters of both sides, well into their cups by the time I arrived. The pub itself was gorgeous and very old; so old, in fact, that it still had a snug, which is the name for the room where women would be placed if they were ever brave enough to enter a pub. It is a pretty classy place, where the Taoiseach (say: "TEA-shock"), who is the prime minister of Ireland, used to drink as well. With these illustrious recommendations, I decided (with a bit of coaxing) to participate in another Irish cultural tradition: drinking a pint of Guinness. I did my fellow Yanks proud by finishing the thing, and did my wallet a favor as well, since a pint of Guinness is roughly equivalent to a full meal in terms of satiation level and calories. I wouldn't necessarily drink it again, but I would be a very poor visitor if I came to Ireland and didn't have a pint of Guinness...
In any case, yesterday afternoon, the semi-final match between Tipperary and Waterford was held in the patchy sunlight in Croke Park, the stadium in Dublin, which just happens to be visible from my current residence. Now, normally, Croke Park looks like this:
But yesterday, it looked like this:
As you can see, it was a very big win for Waterford... (In all fairness, they haven't made it to the Final in 45 years, as someone told me as I was taking this picture.) I celebrated by meeting Roisin in the pub where she used to work, which was crammed with supporters of both sides, well into their cups by the time I arrived. The pub itself was gorgeous and very old; so old, in fact, that it still had a snug, which is the name for the room where women would be placed if they were ever brave enough to enter a pub. It is a pretty classy place, where the Taoiseach (say: "TEA-shock"), who is the prime minister of Ireland, used to drink as well. With these illustrious recommendations, I decided (with a bit of coaxing) to participate in another Irish cultural tradition: drinking a pint of Guinness. I did my fellow Yanks proud by finishing the thing, and did my wallet a favor as well, since a pint of Guinness is roughly equivalent to a full meal in terms of satiation level and calories. I wouldn't necessarily drink it again, but I would be a very poor visitor if I came to Ireland and didn't have a pint of Guinness...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Galway, again
Now that it is once again pouring rain, I can return to my description of my weekend in Galway. Of course, it rained there too, but that didn't interrupt the quaint beauty of the place. Case in point:
This is Galway Harbor (or should I write 'Harbour'?), complete with an old man in an Arran sweater and a wooden sailboat. This was taken during one of the moments WITHOUT rain, so the visibility over Galway Bay was pretty good.
It is always this shade of grey and green in Ireland. I found that Wales last summer was actually much greener than Ireland, which surprised me, given this island's reputation. That is not to say that Ireland isn't green, of course; perhaps I am just more struck by the skies here, as I am constantly watching them in case it starts to rain. Again.
Galway is a college town, but it feels very small and close. For example, their main street, where all the shops are, is called: Shop Street. No kidding. This is a picture of Shop Street (or Siopa Sraid, in Irish), after/during a bit of rain. You can see the low overall height of the city, and the way that the buildings are all constructed using stone. Some of these are left with their stone facades, but some are stuccoed and painted, like the yellow one. They even have this:
I don't know what a cheesemonger is, exactly, but it is good to know that someone in Galway can get any kind of cheese they could possibly desire from this shop.
The average temperature for August in Galway, according to the friendly (if mumbling) man at the bus station, is 20 degrees Celsius, which equates to about 68 degrees Fahrenheit. This was something I didn't need to be told, as it was quite chilly, especially when the wind blew. However, these temperatures did not stop the bella figura of Galway (if that term can really be used in this context) from venturing out at night in little skirts and t-shirts. I went out in jeans and two sweaters, and of course, my very handy rain jacket. There was a bar that used to be an Anglican church (only in Ireland) that I visited both nights I was in Galway. It was probably the coolest bar I have ever seen; it was made of a light colored wood, and was complete with Norman arches and stained glass windows on the inside. I still can't bring myself to drink Guinness, so I had Irish cider, which thankfully warms a body right up. The bar was on two levels, and the barmen and women kept traveling between the two of them using the stairs of what must have been the pulpit in the previous incarnation of the building. I tried to take some pictures, but they didn't turn out, so I just sat with my cider listening to the Irish band play everything from the Clash to Irish Rover. They were great craic, as they say here.
This is Galway Harbor (or should I write 'Harbour'?), complete with an old man in an Arran sweater and a wooden sailboat. This was taken during one of the moments WITHOUT rain, so the visibility over Galway Bay was pretty good.
It is always this shade of grey and green in Ireland. I found that Wales last summer was actually much greener than Ireland, which surprised me, given this island's reputation. That is not to say that Ireland isn't green, of course; perhaps I am just more struck by the skies here, as I am constantly watching them in case it starts to rain. Again.
Galway is a college town, but it feels very small and close. For example, their main street, where all the shops are, is called: Shop Street. No kidding. This is a picture of Shop Street (or Siopa Sraid, in Irish), after/during a bit of rain. You can see the low overall height of the city, and the way that the buildings are all constructed using stone. Some of these are left with their stone facades, but some are stuccoed and painted, like the yellow one. They even have this:
I don't know what a cheesemonger is, exactly, but it is good to know that someone in Galway can get any kind of cheese they could possibly desire from this shop.
The average temperature for August in Galway, according to the friendly (if mumbling) man at the bus station, is 20 degrees Celsius, which equates to about 68 degrees Fahrenheit. This was something I didn't need to be told, as it was quite chilly, especially when the wind blew. However, these temperatures did not stop the bella figura of Galway (if that term can really be used in this context) from venturing out at night in little skirts and t-shirts. I went out in jeans and two sweaters, and of course, my very handy rain jacket. There was a bar that used to be an Anglican church (only in Ireland) that I visited both nights I was in Galway. It was probably the coolest bar I have ever seen; it was made of a light colored wood, and was complete with Norman arches and stained glass windows on the inside. I still can't bring myself to drink Guinness, so I had Irish cider, which thankfully warms a body right up. The bar was on two levels, and the barmen and women kept traveling between the two of them using the stairs of what must have been the pulpit in the previous incarnation of the building. I tried to take some pictures, but they didn't turn out, so I just sat with my cider listening to the Irish band play everything from the Clash to Irish Rover. They were great craic, as they say here.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Go West, Young Woman
This past weekend I went to Galway, on the west coast of Ireland, to see what all the fuss was about. Everyone here in Dublin has a very low opinion of Dublin itself ('Ah, it's always raining, and it isn't even beautiful. You might not like it at all.') but these same doom-and-gloomers go into raptures when talking about Galway. I took a teeny-tiny plane (Aer Arran, no less) from Dublin to Galway, since that was actually cheaper than taking the train, and after a half an hour in the air, touched down in the west. Now, if I haven't mentioned it already, Ireland is cold. My Italian wardrobe is sorely insufficient to keep my body at a functioning temperature, so I have been borrowing or buying sweaters (or 'jumpers,' as I am apparently supposed to call them...) left and right. It also rains a whole lot, in fulfillment of all the stereotypes I ever heard about the Emerald Isle. So when I stepped off the plane in Galway, I was unsurprised to find it chilly and pouring. The rain lasted only as long as it took me to walk to the toolshed-sized building that constitutes the airport, and strangely enough, the rest of Friday was beautiful.
After dropping my stuff at the hotel, which was in a village called Oran Mor, I went into Galway city to explore.
Arriving at the bus station, I found that Galway by any other name is difficult to pronounce. This is the sign at the bus station that is supposed to alert newbie travelers like myself that the Irish history of the place is not forgotten. There is still a fair amount of hostility (albeit non-combative, quiet hostility) towards the British, especially the English, for the invasion and occupation and attempted English-ification of Ireland, and by law, all signs much appear in Irish and
in English throughout the country. Here, for example, you can see the Galway McDonalds, which also has signs for food in Irish inside. I chose not to eat there, in the end...
I am trying to learn Irish, and since all my friends here speak it, I have a great resource for it. So far, I can count to 10, say both Dublin (Baile atha Cliath) and Galway Bay, and utter other such important nouns as 'cow,' 'wall,' 'clouds' (actually, that one is very pertinent), and 'house.' I can also say 'welcome' and 'drink up!'
Now I have to go, because the sun is out, and it is likely to disappear soon, so I must go off and chase it. More on Galway later.
After dropping my stuff at the hotel, which was in a village called Oran Mor, I went into Galway city to explore.
Arriving at the bus station, I found that Galway by any other name is difficult to pronounce. This is the sign at the bus station that is supposed to alert newbie travelers like myself that the Irish history of the place is not forgotten. There is still a fair amount of hostility (albeit non-combative, quiet hostility) towards the British, especially the English, for the invasion and occupation and attempted English-ification of Ireland, and by law, all signs much appear in Irish and
in English throughout the country. Here, for example, you can see the Galway McDonalds, which also has signs for food in Irish inside. I chose not to eat there, in the end...I am trying to learn Irish, and since all my friends here speak it, I have a great resource for it. So far, I can count to 10, say both Dublin (Baile atha Cliath) and Galway Bay, and utter other such important nouns as 'cow,' 'wall,' 'clouds' (actually, that one is very pertinent), and 'house.' I can also say 'welcome' and 'drink up!'
Now I have to go, because the sun is out, and it is likely to disappear soon, so I must go off and chase it. More on Galway later.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Failte Ireland
So, given the sheer amount of time since my last post, it may not surprise some of you to discover that I have departed from the sunny skies of bella Italia. In fact, I have left the scorching sun for the clouds and rain of chilly Ireland!
Yes, believe it or not, I am here in Dublin, where it is about 60 degrees and cloudy. At least it is not lashing rain, as it was yesterday... Actually, I really can't complain, because Dublin is gorgeous, and even the cloudy skies are stunning. I think my skin is also thankful to be out of the sun. I have been here since Sunday night, and am just trying to get accustomed to the city. To do this, of course, I have taken to walking everywhere, much the way I did in Rome. I miss the (inadvertently) free public transportation in Rome, however, as Dublin buses are fairly expensive. Still, they are double decker, which I really enjoy, and the city is much smaller than Rome, so I can walk everywhere.
Even here, in a country as dissimilar as possible from Italy, I find myself surrounded my a sea of familiar faces. Tonight, Roisin, Dara, and I are going out to the pub (I think it will be a solid cultural experience), so my Roma homa never seems far away. This afternoon, I think I will go to see some of the museums in Dublin, as they all have free admission (yay!), and perhaps the Writers Centre, because there seems to be a sea of famous Irish writers.
Yes, believe it or not, I am here in Dublin, where it is about 60 degrees and cloudy. At least it is not lashing rain, as it was yesterday... Actually, I really can't complain, because Dublin is gorgeous, and even the cloudy skies are stunning. I think my skin is also thankful to be out of the sun. I have been here since Sunday night, and am just trying to get accustomed to the city. To do this, of course, I have taken to walking everywhere, much the way I did in Rome. I miss the (inadvertently) free public transportation in Rome, however, as Dublin buses are fairly expensive. Still, they are double decker, which I really enjoy, and the city is much smaller than Rome, so I can walk everywhere.
Even here, in a country as dissimilar as possible from Italy, I find myself surrounded my a sea of familiar faces. Tonight, Roisin, Dara, and I are going out to the pub (I think it will be a solid cultural experience), so my Roma homa never seems far away. This afternoon, I think I will go to see some of the museums in Dublin, as they all have free admission (yay!), and perhaps the Writers Centre, because there seems to be a sea of famous Irish writers.
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