Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey... Stuff

It's safe to say that May kind of got away from me. That's okay, though, because once I build my TARDIS I can just go back and write posts closer to the days that I actually think of these topics and you'll all be none the wiser... except then I'll have to erase this post.

Gosh, time travel is so confusing!

Any excuse for a Doctor Who clip

This won't be a coherent post, but I wanted to get a few thoughts down while they were still relatively fresh in my mind. Random? Yes. Important? Probably not. Going to talk about them anyway? Hells ya!

There has been lots going on in my life at the moment. Biggest change? I got a new job. I'm still with the organisation but a new higher-up position. As my brother said when I told him my new title, "you've got 'co-ordinator' in there. Nice!" It's handy when your family are also bureaucrats, they get what titles mean.

Being honest, I love the bathrooms on my new floor!

After my pub board game night with 106 and T, 106 found a Monday night board game meet up here in Victoria. We've been twice and it's awesome! He even bought one of our favourite games from this past Monday and I pretty much had to physically restrain myself from just inviting myself over to play it. It's called Guillotine and it's super simple, super quick, and super hilarious. Also, board games rock. I just wish they weren't so freakin' expensive.

Euro 2012 starts on Friday. That might not mean much to most of you, but it's huge for me. It's the first time in 24 years that Ireland has made it to the Euro. (In fairness, it's only held every four years. It's not like they've missed it 24 years in a row.) The last time Ireland went (which was also the first time, we're a young soccer nation) this happened:

It was kind of a big deal for us. They even wrote songs about it. Never ones to let a moment pass without signing about it, there's an official Ireland song for Euro 2012 as well.

(Snarky me adds a 'unless you score with a handball' at the end.

Yeah, I'm still bitter. Stupid France.)

Speaking of Ireland vs. England, people were chatting in the lunch room today about the Queen's Jubilee when one of them turned to me and seriously asked "you're Irish. Are you excited about the celebrations? Is your family doing anything special?" I was slightly dumbfounded at the question so I just said 'no' and left the room.

I don't have anything against the English, and good on the Queen for sticking in there, but Irish people aren't exactly known for our love of England or the monarchy. In fact, we're kind of known for disliking them. We fought a war of independence over it. The resulting separation of the island of Ireland made a few of the papers. So did the ensuing Troubles. While I don't expect this non-Irish coworker to be able to list names and dates from the last 100 years of Irish history, I would expect that somewhere in her brain would be the understanding that Ireland won't be celebrating this Jubilee. Or any Royal Jubilee.

I'll have to remember to ask her what she's doing for American Independence Day in July.

I have made no secret of my love for Phil Plait, aka The Bad Astronomer. If you love science, you should check out his quote turned into awesome graphics by Zen Pencils. It gives me chills reading it. If you want to get me something nice just because, I'll take a print of that comic. Thanks.

I had a crush on a guy in high school who I always thought was way too cool for me - it was the classic nerd-girl-likes-jock-a-year-older-than-her crush. While I thought I always played it cool, I'm sure he knew. How could he not when I just randomly always seemed to be hanging out in the hall near his locker? Or sitting by the field when he was practicing soccer? He was nicer than some of the crushes I had and politely tolerated me but we had nothing in common. Nothing! Except we both liked 'Ocean Pearl' by 54-40.
While I liked the song, crush-boy loved it. He had all of 54-40's albums, he went to a few of their concerts, and he talked about wanting to meet the band.

This song still gets me dancing.

My crush ended suddenly one day. His friend made fun of him for his geeky hanger-on and his previously tolerant demeanour changed. In front of all his friends, he made me feel about two inches tall. I was devastated.

Skip forward 18 years to this past weekend. My friends, Justin and Ian, played Friday and Saturday night with their recently acquired drummer, Matt Johnson. As in, Matt Johnson of 54-40. It wasn't my first time meeting Matt, but it was the first time we had a conversation between us without Justin or Ian instigating it. Despite friends with him both nights, he made a point of coming over and say 'hello' and asking how I was doing.

As I nursed a hangover of epic proportions on Sunday (more from lack of sleep than the four beers the night before), I thought of that high school crush for the first time in more than a decade. Man, did I ever wish I could tell 14 year old me that some day one of my crush's hero would laugh at my jokes. That would have stopped a few of those tears.

Memories of a Mzungu

I am spending my Friday night watching the 1962 John Wayne movie Hatari!

Don't worry if you have no idea what I'm talking about. Five years ago, I had never heard of the movie and I went through a period in high school of watching a classic movie a week. I had watched more John Wayne films than I could name.

But then I went on safari in Tanzania and visited Tarangire NP. Everywhere around the entrance guard hut were signs about the movie being filmed there. Hatari means danger or caution. Baby Bro and I found it hilarious to yell "HATARI... THE MOVIE!" at each other for the rest of the trip.



We usually made this hand gesture as we yelled it...
although that was just coincidental.



Obviously, we had to watch the film when we returned home. Now it's my 'I miss Tanzania' film.

This round of nostalgia started when E and I ended up in Munro's Books in the language section. A Swahili book caught my attention and soon I was pontificating about how even a small knowledge of the language goes a long to increasing the willingness of the locals to help you and decreasing the opening quote on items in shops. I bored entertained E and the lady browsing down the aisle with stories which illustrated my point. (You're welcome for the travel tips, by the way, lady-who-kept-staring-at-me.)



The local mode of carrying goods.
The girl on the left is carrying an axe on her head.

Three days later, I found The White Masai on clearance for $5. Once I started reading, I couldn't stop. The writing isn't great and some of the decisions made by the author frustrated me to no end but the story just drew me. While the book is set in Kenya, the two countries are geographically similar and the bureaucracy is exactly the same. (A better term would be bribeaucracy.) As I read about Corinne's frustration with getting immigration papers sorted, I recalled how my low cut v-neck shirt got me a visa renewal when only a day earlier my scoop neck shirt was told it had to leave the country to renew my visa. (That's the power of the boobs, ladies!)


The beach at Kendwa, Northern Zanzibar



Memories I hadn't thought of in years came flooding back. The simple memories I don't pull out for dinner parties because there's no set story to entertain or inform those around me. Memories like the contentment of sitting on the shaded stoop of Susie's shop on a sunny day, drinking a coke baridi and chatting with the passersby I know. Or how looking at Mt. Meru as I left the baby home made the day complete.



The eastern wall of the Great Rift Valley. You can almost reach out and touch it.

I started dreaming in Swahili which is amazing because a) I haven't done that since five months after I came home and b) the only Swahili I remember when I'm awake is what I had to yell say to the children 18 times an hour - Stop it! Come here! No! Sit down! No hitting! Lunch/Dinner time! Go potty?, pretty standard toddler sentences - or basic greetings. In my dreams, however, I recalled a lot more. Although I'm more than willing to concede that most of the 'Swahili' I was dreaming in was probably my mind making up appropriate sounds. But there were a few actual words I was able to recall upon waking up.


The streets of Stone Town, empty during Ramadan.

Invigorated by these six relearned words, my Swahili hip hop* and Bongaflava downloads found their way back into my music rotation. Because obviously, if I'm dreaming in Swahili, I'm f*cking fluent! Baby Bro interviewed me for his paper on the education system in Tanzania while another friend invited me over for Ethiopian takeout and a movie set in Kenya (based on a true story... and you should totally watch it). The Amazing Race - the only reality show I would ever want to be on - headed to Tanzania and even went through a town I remember fondly, Mto wa Mbu (which is not what you'd expect someone to say about a town named 'river of mosquitos'. And for the record: mmm-toe wa mmm-boo). All these little reminders of Africa kept popping up.


Hard at work teaching me Swahili patty cake rhymes.



So here I sit with John Wayne humanely catching monkeys in the background while I stare at travel brochures for East Africa advertising trips I can't afford. Oh, to stand up in the jeep as it bumps its way down to the Ngorongoro Crater floor. To jump out of the dhow and wade ashore with my bag on my head as old fishermen fix their nets in the shade of the old Portuguese fort at Kilwa Kisiwani. To watch the sun set on cloudless Kilimanjaro as I eat dinner with Mama Musa, Hadija and the rest of the nannies. To barter with a stall keeper and then watch him charge the other tourists more because they don't greet him in Swahili.

To sit on the shaded stoop of Susie's shop on a sunny day, drinking a coke baridi and chatting with the passersby I know.



View from the ridge of Ngorongoro Crater after our game drive.



*The Hip Hop group I linked to, X Plastaz, is known because they rap in Swahili and Maa (the language of the Masai). The song I linked to doesn't have a video but it's the first X Plastaz song I ever heard and I love the use of the Masai throat singing in the background.

It Pretty Much Went Like That

And just like that, almost two weeks went by...

I wasn't so overly busy I couldn't post, I was just lacking the motivation to write anything. I think I kind of burned myself out on the Christmas posting and just needed a no-guilt break from posting for a little bit. It was well-worth it. Still, life continued on while all was quiet on here so let's glance back.

1. My goal of listing everything each week is still going well... kind of. I got a little overzealous after my last post and wrote a list which was three pages long. Granted, it was a lot of small (but important) tasks written on pages only 20 lines long, but it was still long. Monday and Tuesday, I attacked that thing like McCarthy attacked suspected communists.

Image from Hyperbole and a Half. Specifically this post.

Full disclosure: I love Ali Brosh with all my heart.

Wednesday I looked at the list and did a few things but just couldn't find the motivation to keep it up for more than an hour (plus there was snow to play in!). Thursday, I woke up feeling achy and unable to concentrate for longer than 5 mins at a time. Friday was full flu-epidemic in my world. Dammit.

Monday and Tuesday had taken the list down to one page so I'm clinging to the idea that had I not been incubating a petri dish in my nasal cavities/head/throat/achy back muscles, I totally could have gotten the list completed. And I totally would have cleaned all the things!

2. It snowed in Victoria. It was beautiful. I don't have pictures because a) I had to return the camera to its rightful owner and b) just like you don't bring a knife to a gun fight, you don't bring electronics to a snowball fight.

But it was really pretty. The temps stayed low enough that it stuck around like proper Alberta snow instead of turning into the slushy, icy, deathtrap snow that it usually is in Victoria. Then one night it started raining and when the city woke up the next morning, the snow was gone. That's the way I wish it would happen every year.

3. Season Four of Merlin has started. Yes, I watch Merlin. Judge me all you want, I like it.

It's cheesy fun times with adorable accents and awesome sets. And seeing as Doctor Who isn't on right now, I need something to watch while I enjoy my Sunday morning coffee. Also, James Callis (aka Gaius Baltar from BSG) has a guest appearance on it this week so my geeky heart is just jumping with excitement. I will defend my love of this cheesy, cheesy show. Now, if you really want to judge me...

4. The Challenge: Battle of the Exes has started on MTV. Strangely enough, I don't actually care for 'The Real World' from which this was born. The Challenge is different. I always make an effort to watch it. Judge me. Please. Goodness knows, I'm judging myself for admitting this. The first episode aired this past Wednesday and I was way more giddy about it than any 30+ year old has any right to be.

5. I'm back to work in the office. I've been put in charge of a new project which is both awesome and intimidating. I'm the only person in my building working on it, while all my contacts either work in the other building or work for a different ministry/business partner. It's strange to go from a position where all my thoughts on a program had to go through my supervisor for approval before being signed off at the ministry to a position where all my thoughts go through me and, within my little sphere of influence, the ministry doesn't have to sign off on it.

Check back in six months for my update about how I ran the program into the ground and brought the entire government to its knees with an excel spreadsheet.

Guess where I borrowed and modified this from.

6. Remember when I said I was working on a vlog? Almost done. Just thought you should know that. You know what else is almost done? My final Ireland post with reviews of places we stay/ate/visited. It turned into a book so I'm going back and editing it down to a more bare-bones, less trying-to-be-funny, review post. Strictly reviews/suggestions for other travellers.

7. More judging: I'm going to Underworld: Awakening tonight. Is it going to be crap? Probably. Will I love every crappy moment of it? Definitely. I have an unhealthy love of that series... even the second really crappy one. For all my 'I read science blogs and non-fiction books', I have crap taste in films and have no right to judge anyone's film preferences... unless it's Twilight.

But not the second one. It barely had a story.

8. I got my DVDs of Firefly back from the person I lent them to. Between lending them to three different friends, I haven't had them in over six months. Obviously, I need to rewatch them. I'm toying with the idea of a 12-week Firefly Friday post series. Just giving you all fair warning that it may get really nerdarific up in here!

I've missed my little corner of the Internets. It feels good to be back.

Just Your Standard Rambling Post About Nothing

This post was supposed to go up Friday afternoon but my computer decided to be a complete twat. "Oh, you want me to open that link? Let me think about it... computer says no." So I decided that socializing with other humans was a better option than swearing at my computer. Take that, computer!

Then it was supposed to go up yesterday afternoon but my Internet decided to be a complete twat. "Oh, you want me to connect to the World Wide Web? Let me think about it... computer says no." So I went to the apartment Christmas party and unintentionally got drunk instead. Take that, liver!

Note to self: Eat dinner before going to the Christmas party next year because if you have as much fun as you did this year, you're not going to stick to your 30-minutes-chit-chat-back-for-dinner plan.

Part of the problem with not going up on Friday is that I missed the chance to talk about 'Wear Star Wars, Share Star Wars' Day on the actual day. Last September, Katie headed off to school with her Star Wars backpack. She got teased for liking Star Wars because it was just for boys. Her mom blogged about it, it was picked up by Epbot - a wonderful site for all geek girls - and it snowballed into a huge movement. Katie became the hero for legions of nerdy girls who had also been told they shouldn't like something because that's for boys.

'Wear Star Wars, Share Star Wars' is about more than just Star Wars, it's about showing your geek pride regardless of where your geek love lays. It's also to encourage people to donate a sci-fi themed toy to a local charity and make sure to specify that it's for boys and girls. It's about being proud about being a geek.

Just in time for WSTSST 2011, Jen at Epbot shared another story about a GGIT (Geek Girl In Training) getting teased. This time, Bryden dressed up as Spock for Halloween and was made fun of for dressing up as a boy. (Even one of the teachers made a remark about it which angers me to no end. A teacher should know better!) Once again, my heart went out to that little girl. And once again, the internet has proven what a wonderful place of support it can be! Go Geeks!

UPDATE: Um, awesome!
I found this BBC advert online Friday and shared it with facebook and twitter. Figure it's only right to share it here as well.

The natural world is such an amazing place, filled with so much wonder and beauty. It can be so easy, in our day-to-day lives to forget how fantastical the idea of life even is. All these plants and creatures that have evolved over millenia and adapted to their surrounds is no small feat and yet, here we are!* Something about this video must have kicked up all the dust in my apartment because something kept getting in my eye as I watched it.

Of course, I needed to remind myself that despite all that beauty, some people just don't like the world so I watched another episode of An Idiot Abroad. I stumbled across the show a few weeks ago and have been recommending it to anyone who will listen. The hilarity of watching Karl (who hates everything) travel to foreign places is just priceless. To get the most out of it, I'm limiting myself to two episodes a week. I tried to find a clip that summed the show up but ended up deciding instead to just share an advert for Series One. (Yes, they some how convinced him to do a Series Two.)

Christmas is in full swing around here. I've put up my one string of Christmas lights and I've blasted the Bing Crosby. Despite my love for Christmas, I don't do a whole lot in the way of decorations. Because the holidays are still mostly spent at my parents' places and I live on my own, I keep it pretty low key. (Also, we're not allowed real trees in our apartment building and I refuse to buy a fake one so...) At least I'm getting out to enjoy the festive season around me!

And on that note, I have to go shower and get out to enjoy the festive season around me!

*One of my biggest pet peeves about religious people's misunderstanding about those of us who are non-religious is that we can't appreciate God's work as it's all just science to us. It was realising that random happenstance of the interaction of molecular properties which brought us such beauty that helped me see how amazing this world is. When I still thought maybe it was just some guy in the sky, the world never was as amazing as I find it now.

CMC: Cranberries

This is part of my Christmas Memory Challenge, a goal I set for myself to recall 25 things I love about Christmas. You can also check out Shannon's memories here.

"What are those," he asks as he points at the floating red berries in the punch.

"Cranberries," I tell him. He looks at me wanting more of an explanation. "Don't you have cranberries in Switzerland?"

He shrugs. Michael had moved to Canada for four months to study English, and he was spending Christmas with me and my family. I was introducing him to what 'Family Christmas Party' meant in my parents' homes, and it was clear there were a lot more cultural differences than either of us had assumed.

"Maybe but I've never had them. Why are they in there?" He squints at the punch bowl as if some unseen writing would appear which would answer his questions. I can understand his confusion, I had just poured us two glasses of punch while avoiding the cranberries as if my life depended on it. Why would you put something in a punch if you couldn't consume it?

"You can eat them, but I only eat cranberry sauce. They're very bitter in their natural state."

"I can try one?"

"If you want." It's my turn to shrug. He picks up a fork from the buffet table and fishes a cranberry from the punch. He smiles at me as his pops it in his mouth. Before he's even finished biting down, the smile is wiped from his face and replaced with the look of a toddler tasting his first lemon. He grabs a napkin and spits out the rest of the cranberry.

"That's horrid! Why did you let me eat that?" I can't stop myself from laughing as he spits a few remaining pieces of cranberry into the napkin before downing the entire glass of punch. "The punch tastes so good but those..."

"Hey, I told you they were bitter."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I had to find out for myself. Maybe our tastes are different, you know?" I nod.

"Come on. Let's get some food to get that taste out of your mouth."

The Final Countdown

While Al spent the final Friday taking a guided tour of Bru na Boinne and the Boyne Valley, I spent it catching up with family. I know I've said this before but I have a lot of family in Ireland. I could have spent the entire three weeks just seeing family and I probably still would have missed someone. Still, I'll take as many family meet-ups as I can get especially now that some of my cousins have kids and they say adorable things like "hi-ya!" when I walk through the door. Seriously, nothing cuter than a 19 month old with a Dub accent saying 'hi-ya'!

Saturday was run-around-buy-souvenirs-take-pictures day. Despite some very nasty rain clouds hanging about, we lucked out and managed to stay dry for our final day. It was a welcome change to the weather we had been having. We started the day by wandering O'Connell St on the north side of the Liffey. The street is named after Daniel O'Connell so it's only best that he stands prominently at the south end.

I think Ireland personified is telling you who to complain to if you have a problem.

It's that man, up there, above her. Complain to him!

O'Connell St is probably best known for being the location of the General Post Office (GPO).

The pillars are still pockmarked from the 1916 Rising. History nerd here finds that kinda cool!

The GPO acted as the headquarters during the Easter Rising of 1916. In the early hours of Monday, April 24th, members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, the Civilian Army, and the Irish Volunteers seized various buildings around Dublin* (most of which they felt were signs of British oppression), after which Padraig Pearse read out the Proclamation of the Irish Republic from the GPO where two rebels flags had replaced the Union Jack.

After six days of fighting, the inside of the GPO was almost completely destroyed and the men stationed there, including five of the signatories on the proclamation, surrendered unconditionally to British troops. It would be another 24 hours before the rising was completely put down. The leaders were taken to Kilmainham Gaol, found guilty of treason and executed.

One of the things I love most about the Irish is their wit. If you put up a monument to anything, they'll have a nickname for it before the paint is dry. The prick with the stick, the hags with the bags, and the fluzzie in the jacuzzi are all nicknames Dubs have giving to various statues around town. My personal favourite is the the tart with cart, better known as Molly Malone.

Just one nickname won't do. Molly's also known as the flirt with the skirt,

the dish with the fish, and a couple of other nicknames as well.

For the first time in a long while, I had new nicknames to learn thanks to this guy:

Ladies and gentlemen, meet the stiletto in the ghetto, the stiffy by the Liffey, the nail in the Pale, the erection at the intersection, the, well, that's probably enough. The official name has something to do with light... I don't know, I didn't actually pay attention to that part, I just wanted to hear the nicknames! It seemed like everyone I talked to had another one to add to the list. Oh Dublin, I hope you never change.

Try as I might, I couldn't get all my family visits over and done before the Saturday night. We had to be up at 5:00am and a night out wasn't really what I wanted. Still, sometimes that's just the way the cookie crumbles. I had missed meeting up with my uncle in Armagh so he was coming down** to see me on my last night. There's not way to excuse yourself from that, is there?

Al and I had dinner with uncles Lorcan and Kevin and aunt Betty before doing a night time tour of Dalkey. The tour was part of a "let's see who's home" (answer: no one) which then turned into a "Bono lives there, Enya lives there, Neil Jordan lives there, Van Morrison lives there" drive. Of course, we had to stop at the beach by the Canadian ambassador's house and take a picture. That's just the patriotic thing to do!

Oh flash, why do you wash us out so?

Our evening ended with a drive up into the Wicklow Mts. I was sad that I never made it to the area during the day because it really is lovely but these things happen sometimes. We started the night at Johnny Fox's and all it's "traditional pub" touristy glory (although the stuff on the walls does make me laugh) before we moved onto The Blue Light. If you can get to it, definitely check out the Blue Light. Live music, amazing views over Dublin, friendly patrons, and incredibly relaxed. My kind of pub!

This is just proof that I can't take my uncles anywhere!

Look at all the Guinness Kevin wasted!

As much as I had hoped to avoid a Saturday night send off, I couldn't think of a better way to say good bye to Ireland. We told stories, made jokes, laughed until we cried, sang songs, and reminisced. The end of the night came too soon. We rounded ourselves up and headed out to the car. The next day, Al and I would be up before sunrise; we'd pass through Dublin in the dark and half asleep; we'd watch the sun come up as we ate breakfast on the top level of the airport; and we'd watch Ireland slip beneath the plane as we flew to Amsterdam, but our last real memory of Dublin was on that Saturday night.

*It should be noted that they were not successful in capturing all the buildings they went after.

**I wrote that he was coming 'down' because geographically looking at a map, Armagh is north of Dublin, hence, down. If you are ever in Ireland, it is important to know that everything is down from Dublin. We're going down to Donegal for the weekend. We're going down to Monaghan for the night. We're going down to Mayo in a fortnight. You do 'go up to the North' but if you're specifying where in the north, then it's down again. We're going down to Derry next week. Obviously, if everywhere is 'down' from Dublin, then everyone else comes up to Dublin for a visit so when I was talking with my uncle on the phone, he said that he was coming up to Dublin. I giggled because that will never stop being funny to me.

Connemara's Beautiful and Andrea's Wordy

We hold these truths to be self evident!

I awoke on our last Wednesday very stuffed up and suffering from a sore throat. As we our plans included the 1:00pm ferry to Inishmore, Al set off to do some shopping while I rested a bit longer. It seemed like everything was falling into place... until we met up at the ticket office. They had already cancelled the April-October 1:00pm ferry. Um, last I checked it was still October. Of course, the website is updated now but it wasn't when I checked two weeks before our trip. So now I was sick, tired and not going to the Aran Islands.

Well, at least it was gloriously sunny! That was a welcome change.

Looking back at Salthill on my walk into Galway

I pointed out to Al that we were 0 for 3 for cliffs in Ireland: we opted not to see Slieve League because of the rain, we couldn't see Cliffs of Moher because of the fog, and we didn't make it to the cliff at Dun Angus because of the ferries. Well, there's three very compelling reasons for us to have to go back!

I took the change in plans as an excuse to crawl back into bed for the afternoon. Figures, the sun is out and I'm walking around in a t-shirt... and all I want to do is sleep because I'm sick. I'd feel sorry for myself but then I remember that I was living it up on holidays. I could have been sick at home in Victoria while it rained. Perspective... it's good to have it sometimes.

The boat in the middle is called a hooker. It's also the name of a locally brewed beer.

The joke about 'Galway hookers' will never get old.

Yes, I have the maturity of a 10 year old.

Galway City as seen from the Claddagh.

I felt much better after my nap and when Al returned I agreed to head back into town for dinner and drinks on the condition that we didn't stay out too late. We had a low-key dinner, went to a pub know for its Irish music nights that just wasn't the Reel Inn, before deciding to stop at the Front Door for one more pint before bed. Then we met the world's second greatest bartender, Philip, (Emer is still our #1!) and enjoyed chatting with him so much that we hung around for a second pint. Then we met Mike.

I'm posting this photo of him for a reason. Remember this face, people!

He and his group of friends helped us make targets for Philip's elastics (until the night got too busy and Philip actually had to work)...

...and then his friend's left him with me, Al, and Lindsay (a lovely Yank he and his friends had met earlier in the evening) so he started buying all our drinks... and then a few drinks we didn't actually order.

This was actually my first time ever having a Butterball shot.

Where have these been all my life?

Towards the end of the evening, we had this exact conversation:
ME (pointing at my cell phone): Please tell me that says 12:10AM and I'm just too drunk to see the '1'.
AL: No. That says 2:10AM.
ME: Really? F*ck. A pint for the road?
AL: Sure.

So much for our early night. But you know what? It was worth it for the new friends and the awesome bartender. If you're ever in Galway, go to the Front Door, find Philip the bartender, and ask him for "ah, one, ah, hot chocolate" and then duck. Just trust me on this one.

Needless to say, when you crawl into bed at 3:00AM, 7:30AM comes ridiculously fast! Stupid tour of stupid Connemara at stupid o'clock in the stupid morning! But then you see this and decided that all is right with the world.

We switched tour companies for our second tour which meant we lost on the 2nd tour reduced rate but we also had a tour guide who didn't put the radio on! It was worth the extra money to actually feel like the tour guide was more than just a bus driver, so excuse me while I throw a little love their way. I would definitely recommend them if you're ever in Ireland. (As our guide, Michael D., would say they were a great tour company in and of themselves! Which might not make sense to you, but Al and I are rolling on the floor laughing at our hilarity!)

The day started (of course) with a visit to a friary. Having not seen one in almost three days, Al and I were going through withdrawals.

I actually really liked the Ross Errilly Friary because it was a) free and b) surrounded by sheep and cows (which, sadly, were not free. Best souvenir ever!).

Our next stop was the village of Cong which is best known as being the home of the Cross of Cong the village in The Quiet Man. In fact, if you've seen The Quiet Man then this pub should look very familiar to you. (If you haven't seen The Quiet Man then you should rent it tonight at watch it.)

Cong also gave Al and I a chance to change things up and visit an abbey! Always keeps things interesting when you don't get tied into just one type of religious building! It was also the beginning of the 'Mike face photos' which punctuated the rest of our travel photos.

I don't know which was better: the fact that this made us laugh as hard as it did or

the looks we got from everyone else every time we did it.

I liked the Cong Abbey because it was a) free (hear that, Donegal Castle? Two free ruins in one day. Boo-yah!) and b) it was right across the street from an awesome coffee shop. It was a common look for Al and I: camera in one hand, coffee in the other.

Cong is a very quaint, quiet village and while I'd suggest it as a stop for lunch (or coffee), we had half an hour there and were still back at the bus 10 minutes early. It's not really a place I'd recommend as a destination in and of itself. (Also, many of the stores shut down from November to March when there's no tourists so then I really don't recommend going there.)

Connemara is one of my favourite regions of Ireland (the whole northern part of the west coast is the bee's knees for me. The cat's pajamas. The dog's nuts. Wait, what?). Every time Al and I talked about possible Ireland itineraries, I kept putting "Connemara Day" into them regardless of what Al wanted because I'm a selfish friend I know that a trip to Connemara is always worth it. Even in the rain, Connemara is beautiful. If you go to Ireland and visit Connemara because of my recommendation and this it was a complete waste of your time, I will buy you a pint.*

Plus it's home to the Connemara Pony which sometimes you get to see. Or, if you go with the GTC, you'll get to feed one!

They call him Mr. Pony. Michael D opened the bus doors and whistled as we drove past.

Mr. Pony raced with the bus the length of the field and then patiently waited while we were

dolled out apple slices to feed him.

I LIKE PONIES!!

There's a lot of history in the region, lots of stories to tell about it, but more than anything else, it's just beautiful. It's a 'pictures will never do it justice' kind of place. But let's try anyway, shall we?

For hikers, the region is home to the Twelve Bens** and I've often thought what a wonderful weekend trip it would be to hike a few of them over the two days. Apparently crazy people like to hike all of them in 24 hours. For once, even my crazy thinks that's crazy! How can you enjoy the views if you're just running off to the next one? (Plus, that leaves no time for stopping in at the pubs!)

Like all Connemara tours, we eventually found ourselves at Kylemore Abbey. I'll be honest with you, I've now been to Kylemore Abbey three times. Next time, I'm bringing a book and staying on the bus... well, after I take the required Kylemore Abbey photo, of course.

Most original Kylemore Abbey photo you will ever see! EVER!

The grounds are very nice and if it's your first time visit, you should pay the entrance fee and go check them out (you do not, however, need to pay the fee to get the photo above) but it's not really a location which bears repeat visits (unlike Connemara itself). There's some lovely walks, they've done a great job with restoring the largest walled Victorian garden in Ireland (if you need that many qualifiers, I don't think you should get to brag about it), and... well, that's about it really: walks and garden. Knock yourself out, kids!

Still, we did get to see some lovely assess^.

WAIT! I was talking about these guys:

We stopped in Galway just quick enough to grab a bite to eat and then caught the GTC bus back to Dublin. As sad as I was to not actually get to see Ireland roll past us on our last bus trip, I was thankful to just get the trip over and done with especially now that it's a toll motorway that avoids all towns (as opposed to when I lived in Galway and you still had to drive through Athlone or other larger towns).

Returning to Dublin made it official: our trip was nearing its end.

*Totally serious on this one but you have to live close enough to me that we can go for the pint together and you can tell me exactly why you didn't enjoy Connemara. (I want you to look me in the eye and say "I hated it".)

**Ben (sometimes written Pin or Bin) is the anglicised version of the old Gaelic words for mountain (regional differences means I've found five different spellings of the original word, but beinn or beann seem to be the most common.). Many mountains in Ireland and Scotland contain 'Ben' in the name.

^The two guys in the first photo turned out to be really nice. They were on our tour and after a couple of quips back and forth through out the morning, they approached us at Kylemore and struck up a conversation. Unfortunately for them, Al and I just weren't function at all and I'm sure we came across quite b!tchy as we just wandered away after niceties had been exchanged. It was a moment I wish I could have gone back and redone when I wasn't so, um, under the weather. Our travel plans were the same for the next three days, they were Canadians who knew hockey, and they were hot obviously trying to engage us in perhaps meeting up in Dublin. It's not that I think we all would have become great friends and would totally stay in touch and visit each other, it just would have been nice to have someone to meet up with for lunch on the Saturday for example. I also debated about telling them to check out Croke Park because they were hockey guys and that would have been right up their alley. Instead, out of the three times I thought "mention Croke Park to them", I said nothing twice and then awkwardly mumbled 'see ya around' the last time. It's probably the only part of the trip I honestly really wish I could do over. If anyone reading this recognizes those two assess from the picture, please tell the boys Al and I say 'hi' and they should totally check out Croke Park.

List It Like a Boss!

I'm not feeling very creative with my writing right now so you get a lovely list of things I need to talk about. I make no promise for any sort of coherency in this post. You have been warned.

1. I just realised that I often end things with "you have been warned". Perhaps that should have been the title of my blog.

2. There was supposed to be another Ireland post today but then Al and I finally set a time for swapping photos. There's a certain section of today's post which really needs her photos. Words won't do it justice. Also, hard to believe I only have two more Ireland posts left.

3. Further to #2, I'm looking into the logistics of organizing a trip to Ireland in September 2013. Reasons and details here.

4. Further to #3, if Ciaran McMenamin knows what's good for him, he'll run like hell if he ever sees me coming. I will make him read an entire phone book just to hear his voice.

5. John Scalzi is my excuse for not doing anything last night. On Saturday night, Scalzi live-tweeted The Two Towers and Return of the King. Then, in case you missed it, he blogged his tweets (which you should totally read because he's hilarious and nerdy. Also, check out the Smegol dub-step fish slapping dance in the comments). I decided that I needed to rewatch the Lord of the Rings trilogy. So I started that last night. Say good bye to my evenings for the next little while because I'm watching the extended editions.

6. It also means that my friends will have to put up me thinking I'm hysterical for the next few days when really, I'm just really, really nerdy.

7. I have to go get awesome pictures to make the next Ireland post even more awesome so I'm stopping my listing there.

Derry, Derry, Quite Contrary

Derry (or Londonderry as it’s officially called) had long been on my list of places I’d like to visit given its role in Irish history. From the story of the apprentice boys shutting the city gates and holding back the Jacobite armies to the events of Ireland’s 2^nd bloody Sunday in 1972, the relatively small city has played a pivotal role. If you do any sort of reading about Irish history, it’s a name that crops up again and again. How could I not visit?

Plus you can walk the walls in Derry. Along with ruined religious buildings and old cemeteries, I have a thing for walled cities. In fact, it’s kind of the reason why I went to York and Lucerne on previous travels. I know; I’m an odd duck.

Travelling on the off season has a couple of disadvantages and one was that the holiday hours for the Bogside Artists Gallery and the Museum of Free Derry had been reduced to week-days only. Al and I were on our own for visiting the Bogside Murals. On our own and soaking wet; the rain was back in full force!

There are 12 murals in total which deal with specific events or themes.

I found this the hardest to look at and yet the most powerful.

Yes, that's a child holding a petrol bomb.

We wandered our way through the murals until we reached the Free Derry corner. The words "You are now entering Free Derry" were originally written on the side of a housing building in January 1969. It was part of the lead up to a two-day riot, now known as the Battle of the Bogside, later that year. It's also associated with the events of 1972 in which members of the British Army fired into what appeared to be a peaceful protest and killed 13 people*. This event is now referred to as Bloody Sunday. These two events were early sparks in the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the Bogside is very much a stronghold of Republican support. 

I can't help but believe the location for that mural was very, very deliberate.

At this point, Al and I were drenched (and depressed from my random sprouting of tidbits about these events). We decided that breakfast and a hot cuppa were in order. While we tried (in vain) to dry out (and Al ate Black Pudding for the first time), the rain stopped and the sun appeared. We must have some of the worst timing ever! With a sky above us, we decided to chance a walk along the walls.

The walk is actually fairly short (you could easily do it in 30 minutes if you don’t keep stopping to take pictures) but incredibly enjoyable (in the sun). As Derry is built on a small hill, you have some incredible views from the wall.

Looking back at the Bogside

Also, there are a lot of cannons along the wall. Cannons are cool. Just like bow ties. Although if you suffer from a fear of spiders, keep back. Almost all of them contained webs on them somewhere. To be honest, unused cannons are the best kinds of cannons.

If it hadn't still been wet, I totally would have sat on it Dr. Strangeglove-style!

The walls are quite wide. In many areas, because of the hill, you are almost even with the city on one side while there is a sheer drop on the other. Along with the occasional building, there was even a church and graveyard on the wall. A wall walk with a graveyard?!? You just know I died and went to heaven, right? I even dragged Al into the church.

It remained dry for the rest of our walk. It even managed to get downright hot and sunny in a few parts. Once we had almost completed our loop, I made Al stop. I took a quick look around to make sure that we were by ourselves and then I danced a jig. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do on the walls of Derry for no other reason that I thought it would be funny.

And I did it in front of the Church of Ireland (Anglican)

Once we finished our walk, Al and I went our separate ways for a few hours. There was a museum she wanted to see. I also wanted to see it but I had just reached that ‘no mas’ line for educational matter (just another reason to go back, I say) so instead I found a coffee shop and wrote a bunch of postcards. We met up two hours later, grabbed our bags and bid farewell to Derry and Northern Ireland. On to Donegal!

A few words about Northern Ireland: If you drew a line from Dublin to Galway, my favourite parts of Ireland would be north of that line. When people ask me my opinion on where to go in Ireland, I always say ‘go north’ and Northern Ireland is a big chunk of that part of the island. I can not say enough good things about Northern Ireland.

Even with the ceasefire and the Good Friday agreement in effect, Northern Ireland can be a hard sell for people who have only ever heard of it in connection with the Troubles. Add to that the random sectarian violence which is occurring even now and I had friends who feared for my safety when I said I was going to Northern Ireland. My natural response was to laugh and tell them it's not the '80's anymore.

Or perhaps they were not too far off: a viable bomb was found in Belfast the Friday before we went up there and a bomb exploded in Derry a few nights after we left. Please, do not let isolated incidents like this deter you from going to the North. It is a beautiful place full of (mostly) friendly people. From the hostel man in Belfast who was gobsmacked that two tourists visited Blackwater Town to the driver of the Coleraine bus who didn’t charge us any fares, people were chatty, helpful, and kind.

From the previous paragraph, it’s obvious that the problems in Northern Ireland are not gone. They didn’t sign the Good Friday Agreement and *poof* the IRA**, INLA, UVF, UDA and all other paramilitary groups just disappeared into the annals of the history books. They’re still there and some of them are still angry. Four hundred years of oppression, retaliation, hatred and prejudice is a hard thing to remove from a people’s psyche. 

Why then would I encourage you to visit Northern Ireland? Because even at the height of the Troubles, it was rare for tourists to be affected by the violence. Because the more tourist money that comes into Northern Ireland, the more the moderates will work to keep it peaceful. Because the fabulous people in Northern Ireland shouldn’t suffer because some people there are dicks. Because it’s not the well-oiled rip-off machine that the south is.

Most simply, because you can.

*An additional victim died a few months later from wounds received that day.

**Additional history lesson: There actually isn't a group called the IRA; it split in the early 70's to become the PIRA (Provisional) and the OIRA (Official) which both refer to themselves as 'the IRA'. Having said that, it's mostly the PIRA which you've been reading about in the news for the last 30 years.