14.7.03
DUBLIN
Wednesday 25 June, 2003
It seems so incredibly easy. Well...here I am. Here's how you do it:
Quit your job. Tell everyone you are leaving and Oh fuck! is that Colin Farrell over there?!?!! --no, okay - no.
Nevermind, I am at the Irish Film Centre cafe so....okay. no.
Tell everyone you are leaving. Pack. Delete. Discard. Buy your ticket.
Plan a kick-ass, bad mama-jama roadjag and go. Then
Get on the plane. Get off the plane.
Customs Agent "How long are you staying for?"
Me "Hi! Here's my return ticket!"
Customs Agent "Ahhh now, I don't need that."
Me "What then?"
Customs Agent "You've got friends here?"
Me "Yes I do, sir. Yes."
Customs Agent "And...how long are you staying?"
Me "About three months."
Customs Agent, flipping through my passport "Annnnnd you've been here for two months in 2001..."
Me "Two weeks actually -- in 2001. Just can't seem to stay away, heh heh."
Customs Agent "Somethin' keeps bringing you back."
Me "Something."
Drag luggage to taxi rank and go to the happiest B&B on Earth,
shower for a really long time, get on the DART train to the City
Centre and walk and walk and walk. Keep moving forward through
the lagjag - or like a shark that stops swimming, I will die.
wander aimlessly - letting go of any goals for destinations. Keep
moving (from bar to street to bookie) from sandwich shop to lush to
the covered market to the IFC ohhhh it's only 5:00PM. Must...stay
awake... must keep going.
Cab ride from airport to B&B:
Driver "Ahhh...so you'll be staying in Rathgar."
Me "Yup."
Driver "Well...yer not to far from the center of the City but -"
Me "A scary part of town?"
Driver "Ah no - but it's a bit of a walk to it - but yeh got some shops
and some good pubs to, erm, break up yer journey."
In my pointless wanderings I came across the Dublin Photography Club and the 2003 Summer show. Free. Just bumbled into a lovely building to peer at several hundred photographs. I would be a liar if I said that I was able to actually "see" them, to comprehend them. Today it was enough to find them and know that they are there....
Overheard earlier today at Tara Station - cutie on his mobile:
"What? At the X pub? Oh yeah, I love that place. The beer there is fuckin' gorgeous!.
Thursday, 26 June
At Malahide Castle now. In the tea room - with framed knives, sabers and shields on the wall. Some kitchen implements. Am I in the old kitchen? Was the original cook a beautiful, waif-y Chinese girl? Did the first Duke eat Smartees? The tour - an audio tour, with speakers nestled in the rococco sconces. Beautiful and worn, I will not discribe it - a matter of being lazy and knowing that I won't do it justice. My impressions of the castle: There was a family that roamed around - I could sometimes sense that reality, but mostly that is was aged and emptied. There were hairbrushes and lace-up boots to see behind glass, but maybe if I could stick my nose in the kitchen drawers or pull a book from a shelf in the library...not that would ever happen BUT IF IT DID - then I would have a real sense of the place.
Strolled through the village of Malahide. Very nice and sweet. Bought the first four volumes of Limony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, having read the first one with Catherine during the Iowa/Illinois portion of the Heartland program. Written on the premise that childrens' books are always goody-goody, LS writes about the Beaudelaire children who have been orphaned and are continuouisly passed from one unsuitable guardian to another, all the while being persued by the evil Count Olaf. Nothing good ever comes from anything that befalls the children - ever. Most refreshing.
Back to the B&B to collect myself for meeting friend Cathal for dinner, meeting at the National Gallery. In a nice rain, I sauntered past Merrion Square - oh, so that's where Oscar Wilde's house is. Waited at the wrong entrance for a nice long time, but in time, we made it to an Indian restaurant - delicious - but that the best I have ever had - perhaps the restaurant was not as - what? I think it was to nice - maybe linen tablecloths are a bad sign. I look forward to the idealized hole in the wall place I've yet to find. And nice to settle into conversation, picking up some places where we left off. Cathal will be irritated that I mention here he is a film director. I'll wait a bit to add links to his work...Still, he has all sorts of projects and meetings and odd intrigues that make it very interesting and entertaining to me. We headed to a fine wine bar called Ely, on Baggott Street. A glass of California Zinfandel for him and a celebratory glass of NV Veuve Cliquiot for me. Love that golden, bubbly haze.
Back late to the B&B and while the cat was away... the Missus was visiting her sister so the Mister invited me into the kitchen.
"Will ye not have a whiskey with me?"
Life has done nothing if not consistantly proved itself short.
A hot whiskey and a few ludicrous compliments - "Do ye not know how absolutely gorgeous ye are??!!!???!" - Sure pal, hear it allllllll the time.
Saturday, 28 June
Packed up, had a last fine homecooked meal at the B&B and took a taxi to the southside of the City, to Rathgar where I rented a flat for two weeks while I settle a bit and look for work and a real place to live. A quiet neighborhood with busses a plenty and about 35-40 minutes to walk downtown. The flat is in a house that is part of a nice row of brick and front gardens. The upper floor has been divided right down the middle, and I have a long narrow place with a sitting room/bedroom, then a bathroom with a fantastically deep tub and a cozy little kitchen that looks over the back garden, also long and narrow, with a greenhouse and a gardenshed that has been painted purple. How nice to come back with my little eco-bag of groceries and to make a meal for myself. Okay, it was just soda bread, butter and smoked salmon - and a bar of Cadbury's chocolate (Golden Crisp).
Sunday, 29 June
A lazy day reading and decoding Irish television. Cadbury's. Fanta.
Monday, 30 June
Rain. Could describe it in detail but....
In to the City Centre to suss out cybercafes and to get some low-down from the world of job recruitment agencies (they can't help me - their clients want them to find employees that are "good to go" and not people for whom they [the employer] would have to do additional work - the visa). Returned to The Winding Stair bookstore to pick up a few things to read, to ask them if they were hiring (no) and for some lunch upstairs (carrot soup, bread & butter). The store is right on the river Liffey and is such a nice place to read and slowly eat something while peering down on the bridges and the people moving over the water.
Tuesday, 1 July
Found the internet cafe that will let me plug in my own laptop, Oh Joy. Knew I needed to take 16A out to Camden Street to get to the cafe. End of the street, turned smartly to the right, crossed to the bus stop and - got on the wrong bus. Hey, I've got time, I'll just ride this one out. Out and out and into the Northside and to the airport. I was sitting on the top level of the double-decker bus with a book. A nice, orienting tour that eventually looped back to town.
*It seems the Irish are very into tanning and there are tanning salons everywhere - you can stand up and have your tan sprayed on - I find it somewhat freakish, the artificial tans, so orange and the accompanied with frosted make-up. Why?
*Every public toilet has a different flushing mechanism and varying water pressure to confuse me.
*At every traffic intersection I must say out loud to myself "Look Right". In Dublin, the instructions are painted on the street in VERY LARGE LETTERS.
Friday 4 July
Celebrated the Fourth how? Internet cafe for email and dream jobs then to a food cafe in Rathmines, a neighborhood near Rathgar, and a bookstore, then home to the last glass of a bottle of....Bulgarian Chardonnay (4.99 Euro).
|
|
What's this all about?
After traveling there in 2001 and 2002, Miss Thea is off to Ireland once and for all.
Read the blog archives
Right now in Ireland
See Dublin's O'Connell Bridge live via Web cam
Check out which sort of rain is falling
Miss Thea's Irish bookmarks
Irish Times Jobs
Move to Ireland
Daft.ie -- as in, "You want a flat on St. Stephen's Green for 100 Euros a year? You must be daft!"
Tango Ireland
|
