/travel/ireland/Comp Day
Today was a comp day — a day off in exchange for a weekend oncall. I went to the Garda station to get my Garda card, wrapping up my immigration troubles for the next 6 months. I went to the Canadian Embassy, but they're only open 9-12, so I can't get passport documents. I did a bit of shopping.
I saw Stephen (I don't know Stephen, but he shouted loudly into his cell phone that "this is Stephen." Or perhaps it's Steven.) Where was I? Oh yes, I saw Stephen, running with a bunch of flowers, making an urgent phone call. I saw a taxi driver yelling at a lorry driver that he was "just sittin' there and you bloody ran into me!" while the lorry driver pointed out that the taxi drivers was making a bloody left turn across two lanes, and was invisible to the lorry driver. I saw a lot of pedestrians doing carefully timed sprints across the road. I did some of those myself. I rode the wrong way on a lot of one-way streets, and survived.
I saw a lot of immigrants in the Garda National Immigration Bureau, and got friendly treatment from behind the glass that seemed to be relieved that I spoke fluent English. I sat waiting for nearly three hours. I estimated that they served one person every two minutes. They were serving around 140 when I got in, and I was 228.
I went to visit a ("my"?) financial consultant at Allied Irish Banks. I didn't like the meeting very much. I don't like being sold funds. I don't like that they didn't have ethical funds. I'll have to find out who does, 'cause investing in Exxon just doesn't really fit my groove.
Last week I had the culmination of my dispute with my former landlord over the "missing" rent and withheld deposit, in the form of a face-to-face adjudication at a large round wooden table — big enough that the disputees didn't have to sit too close together. I think it went quite well. I don't know which way the decision will come down (or whether they're allowed to slice down the middle) but I'm glad I pursued it. The adjudicator was friendly, extremely neutral and professional, and barely gave away a hint of what he was thinking; the only such indication was that he seemed displeased with the landlord's poor maintenance of my rentbook.
I had a wee dinner party on the weekend, and I think it went quite well.
I'm trying to work less. Or rather, I'm trying to spend less time at work, but work about the same amount. I think it's working a bit. Work is otherwise good. I'm a "Team Lead" now, and got my first n00b yesterday. I'm also down from splitting my time between 4 projects to "only" three, which is nice. I'm also hopefully going to be serving on a lightweight committee to assess and address the office's environmental impact, which is very exciting.
In two weeks, Clare and I are going to Paris. How romantique. I've put my phone into French so I get some practice. There's a cute little bakery just down the street from me that mostly employs francophones, but I haven't got up the hutzpah to start speaking French to them.
My flatmate has moved out, mostly — some of her stuff is still here — the dampness and mould in her room were too much, which is fair enough. The landlord is going to do something to try to improve it — more insulation and a vapour barrier, I think. I've borrowed a humidity sensor and been taking measurements around the flat, but they're fairly inconclusive. I'll start looking for a new flatmate in a week or so, once that work is done.
I'm taking ECON 247 from Athabasca University. It's been pretty basic so far, and I have to force myself to remember that I dispute a few of the fundamental assumptions while still pretending to accept them so I get the answers right. However, I got a good few hours of studying in at the Garda Station, so that was good.
I think that's a pretty good update. What's that you ask? Have I seen any good movies lately? Yes, I have.
New Albums from the Gallery
/travel/ireland/Being an Immigrant
Today, I was an immigrant.
In Ireland, the term mostly applies to those from a place east of Germany, south of Spain, or west of Alaska. Since people from the "old" EU countries have been able to come and go as they please for a while, they're not really seen as immigrants. Since the so-called accession countries have joined, and many countries opted to not allow them to enter for the first two years. Ireland and the UK didn't, so they've come in droves, and been perceived as immigrants.
So, here's my story for getting my visa renewed.
In any case, my work visa was due up on December 24th. I was contacted by someone at work in October, but decided to delay, since one's passport needs to be valid 3 months beyond the end of the visa. Since my passport expires in October 2007, I decided I wanted to wait until I could get a new passport, so that I could get a full-length visa, rather than one that just ran to July. But since I was going to London in late November, I needed it for that, so I couldn't get a new one yet. The Canadian Embassy's website made reference to a certain amount of flexibility in the face of urgent travel concerns. I assumed this meant they could accelerate the passport application process, but in the end it meant that they could give you papers for a temporary passport.
Since work had told me that my visa application could go in up to the last date that my current date is valid. Obviously I didn't want to leave it quite that tight, so two weeks ago after I'd gotten back from London, I started trying to take care of things. That's when I found out I couldn't in fact get a passport in time -- it takes 15 working days, which left things too tight. So then I started trying to collect everything for the application.
The person who was helping me out at work had pasted me stuff from an Irish Government webpage, but it was neither complete nor concise. Because of this, it took a few tries to get the right stuff to her: copies of my passport's information page plus entry/exit stamps, payslips (to prove I've actually been working where my visa says I have), and a form. And a copy of my GNIB (Garda National Immigration Bureau) card. I couldn't find it last week at work, nor on the weekend at home. This is where things start to go a bit crazier.
Each time you get a new visa, you have to get a new Garda (the Garda are the Irish police force, from local and national policiing to traffic and immigration. They're large, and widely perceived as moderately corrupt and highly insular and resistant to proper internal investigations) immigration card. Since last time I got one, these cards have started costing 100EUR. But I also needed it to take a photocopy to apply for my new visa.
Last time I went to get a Garda card, I took a ticket and sat around for a while, then was called up, went through some form-filling-out, then sat down again, and later someone mangled my name and I went and got the instant-printed card. Not exactly painless, but not bad either.
This time, there was a pre-ticket line. Instead of taking a number, you now stand in a line that's about 15 minutes long with one person serving it, doing a "first pass" to make sure you're there for the right reasons, with the right documentation, etc. Unfortunately, this fellow has the job of telling people they're doing the wrong thing in a byzantine system all day long, so virtually by definition his job satisfaction must suck.
But here, we need to back up. The immigration office is not a pleasant place. I find it intensely stressful -- all the little things that you might have done wrong could get blown out of proportion here. More than anyone else you hand your passport to, these people are likely to try to keep it, or give you a really hard time. It's full of people who don't want to be there, most of whom are, like me, honest people doing good things for Ireland. It's not even clear to me why all that stuff is necessary. In a free-capital world, why should my personal capital be restricted?
So, I made it to the front of the line. The guy is sitting behind a glass panel, with a little slidy-slot thing for passing papers back and forth. He's virtually inaudible through the glass; I had great sympathy for all the people there who didn't speak English first. I tried to explain my situation as he looked up my information on his computer. He was immediately irate, asking why I had waited so long to apply. I explained that my employer had told me there was no rush, and he looked exasperated. And then I want on to why I was there -- I sorta needed a new Garda card to take a copy of it to apply for a new visa, for which I would need a new Garda card in a few weeks when the application came through.
He responded tersely that, in order to get a new Garda card, I'd need a letter from my employer explaining that they had applied for a new Visa. I said that they couldn't do that until I had a Garda card that I could copy. Then he said he couldn't do anything about it until I had filed a lost-property report with my local Garda station. I said I didn't know where that was, he asked where I lived and told me where the nearest one. Off I went, a bit frustrated, but not too bad, since things seemed to be progressing.
My local Garda station is the Kevin Street station, which I now know is "a big one." I spotted it only by the large Garda van in its characteristic white and yellow that was going into the complex. There were few signs, none indicating which entrance might be the visitor's entrance. So I went in the only one I could spot, which seemed awfully unfriendly, and parked my bike -- not locked to anything, for once, given the location -- and went inside. There was a little room with no useful sign, and an inner door that someone was stepping out of. I went in the inner door, and was promptly turned around to the unlabeled waiting room. A minute later, a little wooden window-thing slid open and I explained what I was there for. The Garda asked me to sit down, and so I stood around reading the various posters about depression and racism and rights and Garda policies and driver's licence applications forms in English and Irish. After about 15 minutes, he beckoned me over, and I explained that I had lost mhy card sometime between when I last used it to get in the country after my London trip, and, well, two days ago. At first, he was fixated on the exact time and date that I last had it, but when he realized how long the window was, he seemed to relax about whether it was 9pm or 10pm that my flight had landed. Eventually, he filled out a little proof-of-report form, stamped it, and sent me on my way. My bike was still there.
So I went back to the Immigration office, waited in the pre-line line to get a ticket to get a new Garda card. Now, he seemed to remember me when I got to the front, which was nice. He asked me for the letter from my employer, and I explained that I didn't have one because they hadn't applied for a new visa yet because I couldn't give them a copy of a Garda card that I didn't have. He replied that I couldn't take a copy of a Garda card that I didn't have. At this juncture, I'd like to point out that I don't think this man was dim, but rather that all of the circumstances -- my frustration, his frustration, the system, the glass that sat between us, and the fact that I was on a bad footing because I was applying late -- conspired to make this transaction very difficult.
In any case, I said that was true, and that I'd really rather not get one now and then have to get a new one in a couple weeks. He pointed out that it would only be valid for 12 days, and that wouldn't make a lot of sense to get one now. So he sent me on my way, and said to use a copy of the lost-property report in the stead of the Garda card copy.
So off I went.
If I could wave a magic wand, here are some things I would change:
- Clear signage at the Immigration Bureau entrance, saying what things you might be there for, what you need to have to accomplish them, and where to go to get in line
- No pre-line line. I understand the desire for some kind of triaging, but taking a ticket and sitting down is an immensely more pleasant way to have that happen than standing in a line with lots of other stressed people.
- Ditch the glass. I realize it's there to protect them, but for any serious threat a wire mesh would be just as effective, and a lot less headwrecking to communicate through.
- Big signs at Garda stations, even "big well-known" ones like the Kevin St. ones, indicating the entrance. Once you get inside, it should have a sign indicating what visitors should do. There should be lost proprty forms that you can fill out, rather than waiting to have a Garda fill it out for you.
- The process should be set up to be as unarduous as possible for "honest" types. Because anyone who can effect change in the immigration process is untouched by it (since you don't get to vote nationally until you're a citizen), I don't think it gets a lot of attention other than efforts to catch the "bad" ones.
- The document that my employer sent me needs to be corrected for our particular circumstances. (I'm working to get this done), and the misperception that the deadline is the expiry of the current card needs to be dispelled.
- All of this documentation should be found on the internet when I search for Garda Immigration and click the first link. The search engine is doing the right thing, but the web page is only basically useful.
So that's a brief trip through the troubles of being an immigrant. Who loses things. At bad times. And pushes deadlines. (All of which is to say that I recognize the debacle above was somewhat of my own creation, but, err, still.)
/travel/ireland/The Irish Don't Either
The committed reader may recall that getting a smile from Finns was hard work. I've finally started running again, and it's pretty clear to me, the Irish don't smile much either.
They do the same no-eye-contact thing, and many seem to do the same I'm-smiling-because-I-think-you're-crazy thing. On Thursday, the only proper response I got was from a sharply dressed Indian boy, who appeared be late for school, and so was running in the opposite direction. I got a couple of reactions today, but most people dont' even look at you, and avert their eyes when they realize they've accidentally made eye contact.
I had convinced myself that my runners were too old, and combined with my iPod being hosed, running was too unpleasant. Now, my iPod is back, and away I go. Hurrah.
Yesterday we had an "offsite" with work. It was the sort of team-building exercises you might imagine it to be -- cooperation, leadership, blah blah blah. But we have pretty good input into what we do on our offsites, and this one was organized by another engineer, so we all have a good time. It's sorta funny how the people running these things seem to assume (1) we don't want to be there and (2) we're not used to working as happy team. The closing little "goodbye and thanks" speech from one of the event people was all about how they hoped we'd gained something from it all. Hah.
The offsite was in Carlingford, near Dundalk. Clare and I spent a weekend there with another couple just after I flew back to Ireland, so I knew it well. It's a really gorgeous setting, and there seemed to be some interest amongst my co-workers to go back there to do some sea kayaking.
Work is really good these days. The whole Dublin office is doing well, and we have some exciting stuff coming up that we're getting ready for. We've had lots of visitors over the last couple months, including a guy sent out to train me on some new stuff, which was great. He was a fun guy, and did a good job teaching me what I needed to know.
I found a couple of blog postings that never made it, from my trip to Ontario. They're below "Crude Awakening" or you can find them in the significant new /travel/canada category.
I've been working on an essay that I hope to submit to the Globe and Mail Facts and Arguments page, though it was rather longer than they ask for, and I like it less now that it's been shortened. We'll see.
In other news, a couple days ago I received the final, utter, total rejection to all things I applied to: I was on the waiting list for University of Victoria Law, despite having no intention of going (and I told them as much), just to see if I made it. I got the mail a couple days ago that I hadn't. My plan now is to take some distance ed economics courses from UW this winter. We'll see.
/travel/ireland/Sucks to my ass-mar!
The weather here has been crazy delicious. Hot and sunny, but not too hot. I've got a bit of a sunburn (but don't tell anyone I admitted it!) from cycling this weekend -- Clare and I did a gentle ride to some beaches north of Dublin. We bought some food and had a picnic, and then headed inland for the return journey, to avoid the worst of the seaside winds. I have some nice sharp lines from my cycling jersey.
While we were there, there was a man collapsed on the sidewalk. I was rather more paralyzed than I like; he seemed to have a friend next to him that could barely stand, presumably from drink. I ended up just watching for a minute or two until someone came along and relieved me of my moral duty.
Last weekend we went down along the coast south of Dublin, through to Bray. On our way, we saw a little boat getting ready to ferry some passengers off to a little island. We decided to go too, and caught the next one across. The island had a Martello Tower from the times when Napoleon was a threat to the then-British Ireland. There were some further fortifications, including what appeared to be a giant cannon pivot -- a bracing point against the wall, with a rail with about a six-foot radius centered at the pivot, presumably so a wheel on a canon could enable it to turn nearly 180 degrees.
A few weeks
ago I went to my very first Rugby match. One of Clare's friends Claire
(yes, she has more than one friend Claire. Keeps me on my toes. :-) )
scored us free tickets. It was pretty good -- I actually found it quite a
bit easier to follow than I do when it's on TV. It kinda made a certain
twisted sense, even. :-)
On Thursday, I'm catching a ferry to Liverpool, then hitching a ride on MSC Malaga, a 34,000 dwt ("dead-weight tonne") freighter. That's about half the size of a "superfreighter", so it's quite a big ship. My reasons are environmental, and out of interest. The journey will take 7 or 8 days. Freighters take on a few passengers -- up to 12, otherwise they have to have a doctor on board. There's a proper passenger cabin, and food is included.
I'm much looking forward to 7 days without connectivity. I'll have my laptop, and a bit of work to do, but that will only last a day or two. Reading, writing, and maybe even some 'rithmetic, will have to fill the rest. I'm considering doing an experiment in Polyphasic sleeping while I'm on-board, but that will depend a lot on having enough to do. I probably won't do that, but it's an interesting opportunity.
To go on the boat, I had to get a doctor's note saying I was in good form. In Ireland, the health-care system has user fees -- 50 euro, wehether you're going for a big checkup or to get a little note signed, so I decided to get a physical. And after complaining a bit about coughing and stuff, he started asking a bunch of questions, and I ended up getting diagnosed with asthma. I've read a lot about it, and I'm pretty unconvinced about the whole thing. I have inhalers now, and I'm not convinced they're making a difference, but I'll give them a run-through and see.
So yeah, sucks to my ass-mar.
/travel/ireland/Walking the South Wall
The Dublin port has two great big walls going out to the sea. The South Wall was built in the late 1700s, and the North Wall followed when the South Wall was unsuccessful at the seascaping it was meant to do. Yesterday, Phil and Clare and I walked out and back, and then had went for Italian food in D4, the posh Dublin postal code.
Dublin postal codes are big; there's about 30, I think, for the whole city. All of the low-digit ones have reputations, but the reputation usually comes from a small area. My office building is in D4, and so are lots of places I've been, and I never really grokked the whole "D4 is posh" thing. I get it now. The restaurant wasn't super-fancy or whatever, just very modern, slate-and-glass-and-white-tiles kind of thing. Food was alright. All the chefs in the Italian restaurant were Chinese -- a common enough trait in Canada, but I've never noticed it here.
I just finished ploughing through Snowcrash by Neal Stephenson. It was excellent; entertaining, interesting, well-paced. Sometimes it was a bit cheap in its appeal to geeky folks, and sometimes the explanations of geeky things aimed at non-geeky readers stood out a bit, but that's fine. Very good.
I was reading "In Praise of Slow", but I gave up. It was absolute crap. The guy was flying all over the world to try "slow food". Every once in a while he'd try to backtrack and say that "slow food wasn't about posh food", but it was totally unconvincing. Ugh.
My piano is going well, much better since I bought a keyboard (full size, weighted keys. Expensive beasts, they are.) The trick is to practice things you like. Just in case you were wondering. :-) My "When The Saints" rendition is coming along well. At a grade one sort of definition of "well".
The STUPID BROADBAND PROVIDER BT SUCKS HI GOOGLE that I'm with is taking forever to relocate me. I can't even get a clear answer out of them what actually has to be done. At first it was a week or so. Then another week or so. Now it's two more weeks, definitely done by three, and maybe, if the person I end up talking to is feeling charitable, I might get a refund for this time.
Crikey.
That is all. Back to fishing.
/travel/ireland/"Port Lairge"
I just arrived in Waterford (which Google Maps has wrongly marked with its Irish name, Port Lairge.) I cycled ~190km yesterday, making it my second longest day ever. Then today it was 15km from the B&B that I stayed in. I figured most B&Bs would be open for the season, but I ended up wasting ~10km chasing down phantoms late last night -- not fun. I was pretty tired at the end of yesterday, and I had started to get a headache, so I was a bit anxious to find somewhere. (Not anxious enough to pay 60EUR like the first place wanted, though.)
When I got here, I found the tourist office -- Clare is driving down today, and I figured we should meet there. I sat on a bench on the pedestrian street, and within about 5 minutes, an older Irish man came up to me and said "Welcome, welcome, welcome." We had a chat about where we had come from, then he said "Will I tell you a joke?" "Sure," I said. "Do you know the island of Nantucket?" Uh-oh..."I've heard of it." "Well, there once was a man from Nantucket." And a pause, for effect. "He kept all his money in a bucket; his daughter Nan ran away with a man, and as for the bucket, Nan took it!" He finished with a grin, "It's a good one, isn't it?" "Yes, but that's a limerick, I'd expect to hear them in Limerick not in Waterford!" "Well, I was born in Limerick, you see."
So I guess there is some kind of connection. I also learned that not all limericks involving Nantucket have dirty endings.
The cycling was great...I had a tailwind (very unlikely for the direction I was going), the traffic was calm and abiding, and I even got a sunburn (also unlikely!). It's a gooder, quite sore to the touch. I was riding on my smaller road bike, with almost no gear -- Clare is bringing down a couple changes of clothes for me -- so it was quite different from distance touring.
I've learned that nobody in Ireland knows the numbers assigned to roads, though in general they're marked quite well. You have to look on your map, and guess which place they're most likely to know the way to. And even that only works if there's no chance they'll direct you by the busy roads.
This internet cafe is killer expensive, so that's all for now. And I didn't bring my camera, so no photos.
/travel/ireland/A Bit Of A Follow-up
(You should read the one below first.)
I'm in a Quiznos now. It's otherwise empty. The store's only employee is from Poland, probably, though it could a Czech accent, or others near there. He seemed very keen about his job. A "large" sub here is a paltry eight inches, and he forgot my guac. It was probably for the better, though -- the irish concept of guacamole involves more cream and sundry additives than avacado.
This is the first Quiznos I've seen in Europe. I suspect, for some reason, Ireland makes a good test market for expansion, possibly because they're more American-friendly than most EU countries. Starbucks is here in force now, with a growing number of central locations. A year ago there were two: on the Microsoft campus well south of the city, and at one of the universities. Ireland's coffee-shop culture is alread weak, due to the dominance of its pub culture, so it will be interesting to see what effect Starbucks has. But that's not why we're here, is it? Not to talk about multinational restaurant chains (though I watched McLibel last night -- it had a fascinating surreptitious recording of a meeting between the two defendants, and the McDonald's Inc. board of directors, but was otherwise pretty much what you'd expect it to be), but for a bit of an update.
I've been taking piano lessons again, which is nice. It's at 6:45 on Thursdays, so it gives me an good retort when PSTers try to book meetings at 10AM PST (= 6PM GMT) thinking they're making a sacrifice by being in early.
I've moved from Rathmines, obviously. The situ there wasn't working all that well -- it was small, and not very sociable, lacking in outdoor space, and there was moderate tension with the landlord. I like my new place a lot, and it's much more amenable to having visitors (*hint, hint*).
My uncle on my mother's side passed away a few days ago. I agonized about whether to attend the funeral, but in the end I decided not to. I hope it was the right decision.
There was a military parade in Dublin on Easter Sunday, to commemorate the deaths of those who fought for Irish independence in the 1916 "Easter Rising". These parades used to be held annually, but were cancelled 30 years ago as the "troubles" with the North got worse. It was a very controversial, and very interesting issue. There are some Sinn Fein parades throughout Ireland, so by having an official parade, the government mitigated the possibility that Sinn Fein would hold one in Dublin. And the IRA has disarmed (by all accounts, for real), and so it's quite a different political context. On the other hand, the recent riots in Dublin were the worst troubles it had seen directly in a long time, and that seems to be a fire better left unstoked. And a military parade just isn't something most Western Democracies have. (I believe, though I've not seen photos, that it involved tanks rolling along the streets of Dublin.)
I've been spending a lot of time thinking about the environmental impact of flying. It's totally dominant in my environmental footprint -- last year it was probably nearly all but the toes. The impact is huge, hard to mitigate, hard to avoid, and an intrinsic part of my professional and personal lives. It presents one of the largest moral conflicts I've ever faced. The easiest pay-my-way-out buy-my-indulgence-and-run solution, namely buying Carbon Credits on the retail market, looks dubious to me. I haven't dug as deep as I need to, but one of the first things I read about what they actually mean in practice was targeted at Iowa farmers (bless ye, Google). If they changed their farming practices so more carbon stayed in the soil, they might qualify as carbon sequesterers, and be able to sell carbon credits. However, it's hard to imagine that if they then reversed their new-found green practices, they'd be forced to buy back those same carbon credits. If this sort of imperfection is inherent in the system, it will become a question of pragmatism vs. principle -- should one tolerate a flawed system to try to help it develop?
I don't know if I've mentioned it here, but I have applied to go back to school -- law, economics, or maybe policy studies. I haven't heard back much, though University of Victoria found my marks to be lacking, and rejected my application. We'll see how the rest falls out.
This weekend, I'm hoping to cycle to Waterford (yes, famous for its crystal), possibly on my "red bike", the road bike I bought a while ago, with the least of gear. We'll see what the weather's like, though.
As for the question that burns at the back of this writer's mind, as it does yours, dear reader, I don't know if this is the beginning of more writing to come, or merely a brief rest from the arduous life of fishing.
/travel/ireland/A Bit Of A Catch-up
It's the Tuesday after Easter Monday. I was on call all last weekend, including Monday and Friday which are both stat holidays here. I get my four day weekend in a few days, though, and today is a "comp" day. While we are generally offered a day off after a weekend on call, European employment law essentially requires it, through limits on hours-per-week, consecutive days, etc.
I'm in a little park, by the vine-ensconsed ruins of a chapel. There's a tree growing in the crook of its cross shape, with two birds eking it out for chirpiest chirp. A couple and their two children were here when I arrived, but they just perambulated their way back out the only gate. The gate faces a tiny lane -- one-way in parts -- that is the quickest route from my new place into the center of Dublin. It's quiet here, and I've been silently long enough that the birds have started poking their way around again. There's tulips and daffodils, both well past their prime; they pop up too early here for my tastes.
I've moved to a bigger, two bedroom flat with a "random roommate". She's a Spanish-born Irish gal, who works in a bank. We haven't actually seen much of each other, since I moved in, a week and a lifetime ago. For a week or so before that, I was staying on friends' couches and spare beds. I know a lot more of Dublin now than I did, from house-hunting and couch-crashing.
Dublin has a very large ("Europe's largest enclosed urban park, unless you count those crazy new Euro countries," in all its glory) urban park, on the northwest edge of city center. One of my co-workers lives just beyond it. The cycle to and from work was about 13km, along the quays of the Liffey. In the mornings, they were the most tightly packed traffic I have ever seen. Even on a bike, the cracks between the cars were often too small.
The threat of rain has manifested itself, so I'd best finish this another time.
/travel/ireland/Sligo, Sugarloaf, Christmas, New Years
So my sister asked me what happened to my blogging, which prompted me to fix it up and post something. November and December just kind of disappeared into busy-ness and life and stuff.
There's
some photos posted of a trip we took to Sligo in north-ish west Ireland. We climbed
up Knocknarea, a big hill/small mountain, where there's a c. 2500BC burial
mound. It's huge, and crazy. We also visited one of the largest stone age
burial grounds in the world. Stone circles and little Portal dolmen all over.
It's just in a big field, and they've rebuilt one of the mounds to look how
they thought it was original.
The next weekend I went hiking with a couple of co-workers,
and climbed Great Sugarloaf. It was a nice climb with a nice view back
over Dublin.
Christmas was good...it was strange to be away from my family, but I had a good time. Clare's relatives mostly got me food and kitchen stuff, which was remarkably successful given my general scrooginess. Our flat is pretty well kitted out now, just in time for the lease to run out. I had a little tussle over rent a while ago, so I'm not sure how amicable the landlord will be.
I've been trying to follow the Canadian election from here, but it's not easy to get the vibes. I haven't arranged my voting yet..need to do that soon. Still not sure who gets my tick mark. They're all crap.
I went back to Tullamore castle for New Years, and it was done up pretty slick. Wasn't in too much of a partying mood, but I never am for New Years.
I went for a run this morning; while I do it often enough that I can pretend that it has nothing to do with New Years resolutions, I'm not sure that would be entirely honest. There were a lot of people out, though...way more than I've seen before. Funn-ay.
Today Clare and I cycled out to Howth. It's one of the two main heads that form Dublin Bay, 'bout 40km round trip. We had a snack out there in the slowest restaurant in the universe, but it was tasty, so that was okay.
There's some kind of 70s week on RTE2. I'm watching Saturday Night Fever, and Taxi Driiver was on last night. Not movies I would normally watch. They seem alright. :-)
So there's an update. Hope folks had a good Christmas/holiday/New Years.
I'll be in Halifax, Saskatoon, Edmonton, San Francisco, and Chicago between January 26th and February 26th.
/travel/ireland/Disjointed Thoughts On Autumne*
My hands are cold now, when I walk in the door. It's autumn here. Not an autumn I'm familiar with, really. Some days it fools me -- there's a small collection of yellow leaves in pushed up against the curb by wind and traffic. Not red, though.
It occurred to me the other day that I don't know where my winter jacket is. My big, black one. I doubt I'd need it here, but it's a funny thought.
When the dryer runs in my building, the whole stairwell gets that humid, soapy smell. That's a new thing, since it got cooler. And the rains -- formerly misty, light, and bright -- are now much colder and heavier.
My morning run demands that extra bit of cold-fighting willpower -- and doesn't always get it. The darkness comes around when work ends, and barely leaves in time for me to go running before I go back. It's both colder and not as pretty as it was along the canal, though still prettier than it will be. They say we're in for a cold winter -- maybe even some snow. The swans on the canal seem to have begun to cling together in a tight crowd, seemingly bracing for the coming season. Their cygnets have gone from a nest I watched being built day by day, to nearly full grown, and a steadily lightening coat of gray feathers. Geese are notable by their absence -- none are seen in great wedges overhead, nor are there great flocks settled in the evening by streams and ponds.
The little incidental heat sources have regained their winterly preciousness -- an oven, done cooking; a sink full of warm water; morning showers; a fuzzy blanket. The heat isn't on in our flat yet, but soon radiators -- like you might find in an old Canadian house, or on any British television show -- will be soon added to that list.
Autumn has arrived.
