Paul Sarah Dublin

After an uneventful journey on the ferry from Fishguard Harbour (I was just a bit seasick; not nearly enough to get physically ill, mind you, just enough to prevent me from wanting to eat anything), I arrived at Rosslare Europort with absolutely no itinerary. I knew there MUST be a train to Dublin after the ferry arrived, though I couldn’t find anything on the train tables. Because of this, I had no reservations anywhere, but I had a Lonely Planet book for reference if I needed to find something.

I walked over to the Rosslare train station, and there was a couple standing around waiting. I took this as a good sign. I knew that if I got to Enniscorthy, I could get a connecting train to Dublin, so I managed to ask them if the train went to Enniscorthy. It did, and we started talking. The train came, and they invited me to sit with them.

We talked for a while about stuff, then the guy asked me what religion I was. When I told him, he laughed and said he knew I was either that or a Mormon. The girl was also very pleased, since one of her best friends is a Witness. After that, we got on like a house on fire. Paul and Sarah were their names, and they had decided on the spur of the moment to head off to Dublin from Wales. Paul was in home renovation and joked endlessly about how he, like all good Welshmen, was in love with his sheep; Sarah was allergic to work and very, very witty; and they were both looking to get their minds off their troubles for a few days.One thing Rosslare didn’t have, which I found both amazing and alarming, was a cash machine. I could have used the bureau de change on the ferry, but their commissions are insane. What this meant was that I was on a train with no way to pay for it (my railpass is not valid in Ireland and they only take euros). Paul traded me some pounds for euros and I was good to go. Thank you, Paul!

We made the transfer at Enniscorthy, where we learned that due to a rockfall, the line was closed between Greystones and Bray. We would have to take a connecting bus between the stations. This extended our trip by probably half an hour, but it was cool to see a random Irish town. It looked pretty much exactly like you’d think it would, just like the pictures.

We got into Dublin pretty late, around 10:30, and I was immediately glad to be with some people. Right from the train station, you can tell that Dublin is insane. There were kids jumping the till, driving the stationkeepers crazy. Dudes and ladies running around, laughing, being slightly drunk or more than slightly drunk. What you might expect from Dublin. Paul and Sarah told me that their hotel was pretty cheap and I should stay there if there were any rooms available there. So we caught a cab to their hotel. Their hotel was actually full (on a Monday night!), but I was directed to another one down the street that was much less of a deal but actually had rooms available.

On my way to this hotel someone yelled “BASTARDS!” and threw an egg at me. Not sure if it was meant for me (I was alone at the time, and the yelling of “bastards” was clearly plural), but I got a bit on my shoe and a bit on my suitcase. It came off pretty easy, no harm done. But still. It could have been worse, I suppose. Paul said maybe they threw stuff at me because I looked like such a tourist. Unfortunately, he’s right. What he doesn’t realize is that this is how I dress every day. It’s sort of like walking into Texas dressed like Jeff Goldblum in Buckaroo Banzai. Well, it’s not that bad. I have seen some locals dressed like me. Old guys walking around with pipes in their mouths and newspapers under their arms, maybe walking a well-behaved Jack Russell terrier. It’s typical, I suppose, that I would regularly dress like an old man from another country. So I toned it down a bit for the rest of my Dublin stay.

The next day I slept late enough to miss breakfast, at which point I realized it had been more than 24 hours since I last ate. I was so hungry my stomach had given up trying to send me signals and was too busy gnawing away at its lining to worry about anything else. I met up with Paul and Sarah again and we walked around Dublin for a while.Dublin is a beautiful city, with the river Liffey bisecting it. There is a lot of tourism there, though. Once again, not many service industry people spoke English as their native language, and I didn’t hear anyone speaking Gaelic except occasionally on the radio. A lot of the city is old, or at least made to look old, but there are new buildings going up all the time as well. We took a walk through St. Stephens Park, which was beautiful. There were swans and tourists and park benches and grass you weren’t allowed to trod on. We got some lunch. I got an overpriced steak that was pretty good for my first meal in 28 hours. We did a bit of shopping. I got some seasick pills for the ferry ride to Stranraer, just in case. At around 4:00, we went to the Temple Bar section of town for our first pub. (Temple Bar is referred to in my Lonely Planet book as Temple Barf.) I’d had a Guinness with lunch, and it did not taste any different from the norm. So at the pub, I switched to Murphy’s, which was pretty great. After a couple of those, we switched pubs to The Temple Bar, which had an indoor smoking section for Paul and adequate seating for Sarah, and we planted ourselves there for the balance of the evening. It was my intention to try a lot of different beers, but I think I stuck to just Guinness or Murphy’s. I had meant to try the Smithwick’s but I’d overheard someone complain that the line needed to be rinsed. No thank you. Paul was disappointed that every time he tried to chat up a girl she didn’t speak English. Maybe they did?

I was very disappointed to see that Budweiser is readily available in even the most Irish of pubs. American culture’s existence here in general kind of irks me, but to go to the drinking capital of the world and see the most mediocre beer in the world as one of the major choices is annoying at best.

Had an Irish whiskey to top it off, then off to bed to sleep it all off. Paul was pretty drunk, Sarah was ready to get some sleep, so we promised to meet in the morning and I went back to my room and posted the previous blog entry. Then I got some sleep.

Next morning I had a hearty breakfast, checked out of the hotel, met up with Paul and Sarah again and we did some more walking around. We found Connolly Station, where I would be heading out to Belfast from, and we stopped off at one more pub for one last pint. The Celtic was one of those real local Irish pubs, not a tourist attraction like in Temple Barf. Out in Temple Bar, every pub seems to have an even bigger gift shop attached to it. This place out by Connolly actually gave me a Guinness with a Perfect Pour, something apparently the tourists in Temple Bar are not ready to wait for. So after one last pint came some sad goodbyes and I left Paul, Sarah, and Dublin behind.

Things I learned: Dublin is full of tourists, it is crazy at night, it is probably the last place in the world you’d want to get in a barfight with someone, and it is quite possibly the best place to party in the world. Also, Radiohead was right even if they were being sarcastic; Meeting People Is Easy.

Things I saw: lots of pretty girls (possibly more than I’ve ever seen in one place); shamrocks (definitely more than I’ve ever seen in one place); old guys dressed exactly like me; lots of Garda everywhere to keep things safe, especially in Temple Bar; a street sign that said Disc Machine, though I know not why (I think it's something to do with parking discs).

It’s Called New England For a Reason

Since I didn’t really meet up with any locals on my tour yesterday (though I did meet some awfully nice Australians), I decided not to try to go to the meeting on Sunday in order to ensure that I make my train to Swansea. Which I did. This left me some time in the morning to get some photos with Buzz and Woody. I figured I’d take them up to Cockfosters, since everyone seems to think the name is hilarious. Nobody goes to Cockfosters, by the way. It’s at the end of the Piccadilly line and takes forever to get to.Anyways, one I checked out of my hotel, I got on my train and headed to Swansea. There are some beautiful scenic views of West English countryside, I mean absolutely stunning. I wished I could have stopped the train and gotten some pictures. Much of the area is still relatively green (green enough for sheep to graze), though there were patches where snow is still stubbornly refusing to melt completely. Then again, I did see automotive junkyards, high power lines, and areas of urban sprawl as well, so it isn’t all amazing. But it’s good to know that those rolling green hills where sheep and horses graze are still in existence on the English countryside. It looks an awful lot like New England, only less built-up. The main difference seems to be that the trees are all twisty and gnarled and there’s a whole lot more brush and vines and briars.

Also, just so you know, first class rail travel is great.

I like Wales from the window of the train, but once the exorbitantly-priced taxi was taking me out to the castle it lost a lot of its romance. Driving through all the beat-up little towns that look like they haven’t been maintained since 1845, you see some beautiful neighborhoods and some that are less awesome, shacks with aluminum siding for a roof and that sort of thing. The kind of thing a neighborhood association would never allow.

Wales is also friendlier than London by the simple fact that I have actually had two conversations in the course of three hours, and only two in the previous three days while in London. But it’s still pretty restrained. Looking forward to Ireland’s much-reported hospitality!

Overheard on the tube:
Boy: “What is our stop? Is it Artist Grove?”
Daddy: “We’re going to Covent Garden today.”
Mummy: “And that station’s called Arnos Grove. Arnos, like Davros.”
Boy: “Davros! You are arrogant, Doctor!”
Girl: [cackles madly]
Boy: Silence, Dalek Caan!

Moments later, an Eastern European (we’ll say Russian for simplicity) couple next to me:
Man: “russianrussianrussian Davros russianrussian”
Woman: “russianrussian Doktor russianrussian”
Both: “hahahahaha”

Doctor Who has, apparently, completely permeated British culture.

Things I saw today: a guy who looked like what would happen if David Cross ate too much Burger King; bilingual signage for monolingual people; a bowling alley in Bristol called the Hollywood Bowl (get it? GET IT?); a building in Cardiff which said BRAINS in huge letters on the side. Hopefully I’ll figure that one out tomorrow…

Things I smelled today: the New Haven Coliseum. The walkway over Neath Station had the exact pigeon-poo/rotting concrete/decaying steel smell as the Old Barn (I have never called the Coliseum “the Old Barn” until just now).

Hey I Am Still In London

Note: I wrote this yesterday but didn't get wifi access until this afternoon. Sorry for the delay. Clearly this will be an issue going forward. For once technology is actually behind my needs instead of ahead.

The two biggest news items here were the 13 year old boy who is now a father with his 15 year old girlfriend; and the 9/11 widow who died in a plane crash. That crash seemed to make all the international news stations. Couldn’t tell you if they all went with the 9/11 angle, because I only speak English. It's a sad story, but everyone seems to be focusing on the tragic irony instead of the bigger picture.

Anyways. So I went to check out the British Museum. It’s a bit like the Met in New York, just without so many paintings. I hung out there for about an hour, took some pictures. I’ll be back tomorrow. I figured I’d stop by St. Paul’s Cathedral, Sir Christopher Wren’s masterwork, but they wanted £11 admission and you couldn’t even take pictures. NEVERMIND. So I kicked around on the tube for a while and then got some lunch.

It was more like an early dinner, actually, since it was like 4:00 or so. But why on earth would I go to the Burger King across the street? Because I didn’t feel like getting wifi from the Starbucks next door, so I figured I’ll just pick it up through the wall while I have a Whopper. After this utterly familiar meal, I checked out the Museum of Science, which was incredibly boring. I mean super boring. LOOK A STEAM ENGINEHOW EXCITING! And for me to say it was boring…

The Museum of Natural History is a very interesting place. The new wings are pretty typical, but the old museum is basically Darwin Cathedral.Seriously.They had some good dinosaur skeletons, though.

Then I decided to kick around the tube a bit more. I was going to see a few sights, but it was getting dark. At one point, I found myself at Paddington Station, which was AWESOME. When I was on my way to Hammersmith, I noticed out the window (that part of the Hammersmith & City Line is elevated) a huge Westfield Shoppingtown (you can run, but you can’t hide from the Westfield conglomerate), where I decided I might find a watch. I found a Swatch that didn’t look like it was from 1988, so now that problem is solved. Some more aimless tube riding, a few pints in the hotel bar, and in bed by 11:30.

Save some fun for tomorrow, hahahahaha!

- The commercials here are insane, but not like you'd expect. I’ve seen tourism commercials for Azerbaijan, Croatia, and Nigeria. They made the places look nice, at least. But come on, Nigeria? There was also a slick-looking ad for Zenith Bank, Nigeria’s #1 bank. All I could think about is whether that was the #1 bank used by those guys who always need YOUR HELP MY FRIEND TO TRANSFER MY MONIES FROM THE COUNTRY. Ray Parker Jr. appears in a commercial for the 118 phone service. Huey Lewis needed some cash, I guess. I'm sure we'll soon be adding "I ain't afraid of no goats," to the Obscure Catchphrase Lexicon very soon.

- Apparently CNN now thinks that showing Australian newspaper webpages on the TV screen is good television news reporting.

- Walking – on the left or the right? I’m still confused. I’ve been trying to walk on the left when possible, but sometimes there is confusion. This probably has to do with the fact that at least 60% of the people walking around here are tourists. There are a few signs on the tube steps about keeping left, but on the sidewalk all bets are off.

- Things I saw today: a family of redheaded French people, four pigeons that tried to dive into my head (one inside Paddington Station, one trying to keep me out of St. Paul’s), the Elgin Marbles, and the inside of a Tesco.

- 1 in 4 people in London is apparently a university-age Asian girl. So if that’s your bag, come to London but remember that all Asian girls are looking for black guys because they're really into the whole ghetto thing.

- 1 in 3 guys around here look like that dude from Coldplay.

Overheard: an older gentleman who said to his wife, “Bloody hell’s bells!” in a way that I only thought could be uttered on television or in film. People here really do talk like that.

Note: Not sure if I'll be posting tomorrow. I may not have time/access/ability until I get to Dublin on Monday or Tuesday, so if I don't update until then don't worry! I am enjoying all the comments and etc. Please keep them coming!

Thursday

So I got up from my nap around 8 (a bit later than I’d hoped) and it was snowing, those big, wet flakes that only fall when it’s like 32.5 degrees. So of course, I decided to go for a walk. I needed to figure out where the British Museum was, apart from it being at the Russell Square station. So I found it a few blocks from the station, walked around aimlessly for a while (well, not entirely aimlessly; I need to find a place to buy an umbrella), then went back to the hotel to get some dinner. When they brought my bottle of Newcastle, I found out that in the UK they have recommended daily allowances for alcohol! Pretty neat.

I was unable to find a hall last night, but I'm sure I'll figure something out when I go on my British Museum tour tomorrow.

My cellphone is completely useless here. Not only is it out of service, I can’t charge it through my laptop like I thought I could (what’s the point of a USB cord then? Well, aside from data transfer) and it is apparently not even all that great at figuring out what time it is locally. So now I need to get a watch.

I don’t want a watch. Looking at it becomes a nervous habit for me, and I’m trying to reduce the number of nervous habits I have (I think I’m down to 37). However, I need to do things like make it to trains, ferries and planes on time, and a watch is probably going to be helpful in that respect. But I haven’t found a store that sells watches yet. If I want a laptop or a camera or a PDA, there’s about a billion of those stores around, though.

Best thing I overheard yesterday:
"Gelato now!"
"You're not getting a gelato I just got you one!"

Everything else I heard during the day was in other languages. Seriously. There are so many people here speaking every language you can imagine. Also English.

On the schedule today is checking out the British Museum for a bit, maybe peeking into the Natural History museum (they have a Darwin exhibit! WOW), then maybe doing some semi-touristy things. I dunno.

I got a full English breakfast. No black pudding, but there was an interesting egg. Now, I've eaten a lot of eggs prepared in various ways, but never one that was impervious to my fork! I had to use my knife on it. Pretty crazy.

Well, I'm off for now! Wi-fi is rare and expensive!