9:00 am With sleeping through a 7 am watch alarm and camp at 10, I again miss church. Ouch. But, again a full Irish breakfast awaits us. Also, in the middle of the night, a camper from Sligo staying with us attacks Terry. The kid is a known sleep walker and has Terry by the arms on top of him screaming, “Get ‘em out of here!”
10:00 am Another uneventful day of camp. We beat the kids only 7-4 this day because they play slight amounts of defense.
4:00 pm We give out awards, including player most likely to kick instead of shoot a basketball. There are many candidates for this one.
4:15 pm Now the three hour drive to Claregalway, which is suburb of Limerick, just kidding, Galway.
7;30 pm Our host family is amazing. They have three daughters and a son ranging from 14 to 19. The whole town is back 50 years. Everyone knows everyone, nobody owns a bike lock and kids just come and go from house to house. It’s like the Irish Pleasantvlle. After a great dinner we enjoy some surprisingly adequate warm Coronas. Don’t know if I mentioned this, but ice is as rare as warm weather in this country. Everything except the pints comes luke warm so you better get used to it.
11:00 pm I lug my 40 pound bag up another flight of stairs and prepare to sleep in my 5th bed of the trip. Over night I have weird dream Billy Donovan. I was asking him about his tournament against Creighton and Norfolk State. Huh?
DAY 15
9 am The Irish love their breakfast. Again a huge breakfast of soda bread, bacon, tea, toast and cereal. And since Sligo I have had my precious orange juice every morning.
10 am Camp has ridiculously low turnout. The guy running it has 200 kids in his club and yet he has only 22 kids in attendance. This is even sadder when you factor in that they have brought in a great Spanish professional coach, his interpreter, TK (who has won national league titles), Flo and the incomparable Shaun Haggerty. The reason for this lack of ballers is the economic troubles, a very popular vacation weekend and the poor scheduling of trying to go against the Gaelic football camp. Please see the blog on sports in Ireland, but if you don’t want to read it, just realize that Gaelic is the PRIMARY sport here. Everyone is queer for it.
Lunch is again a spectacular array of sliced meats and various baked goods. They have also cleverly called certain cookies “digestables” to trick you into thinking you need them after every meal. I need them not for digestion, but because they are “gorgeous.”
This weeks “that kid” is Ian. Every camp has “that kid.” Usually there is only one. “That kid” needs a ton of attention, isn’t very good at basketball and makes it their life’s goal to do the opposite of what the coach asks. Most times “that kid” is not evil, just aggravating. Ian fits that mold. Our Spanish coach is loud and boisterous but his interpreter is fairly soft spoken, so it takes extra effort to listen to him. Ian has found it is not worth the extra effort and stares off into space whenever any coach is talking. This would be customary if he was 8, but he is actually 14. More on him later.
5 pm After winding down from camp, Flo and I play two of the local kids in a two on two lowered hoop battle. We take it easy for the most part, but Flo, who has Khalid El Amin’s build, decides he is going to drive in and dunk right on this poor kids head. He almost tears down the hoop and knocks the kid down and begins playfully talking “mad smack.” Later he dunks again, but the kid isn’t too pleased with it and while he dunks he cross body blocks him into the pole. Flo hits the pole, spins and ends up landing on the basket support.
7 pm After this we are going to go play Rounders. I am very curious to play it, but Sinead is not home. Sinead’s house is the Rounder’s house. My curiosity stems from the fact that Rounders and Cricket combine to form the basis for baseball.
9 pm After another great dinner, we go into town for my massive suitcase. It was so large it couldn’t make the trip to Cork. After that little errand, we head down to a local pub for a couple pints. Flo is famous for his ability to finish a pint of Guinness in under eight seconds. It’s pretty amazing. For those non Guinness drinkers, it might be the thickest beer in the world. I told him “I can’t even chug water that fast if I wanted to.” He said, “Neither can I. Why would you want to?” Touche. Touche.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
DAY 13
830 am I could not get my window closed and it was unbelievably noisy outside until 3 am. In typical Irish fashion, you could hear a pin drop now that it was morning. I wake up to an amazing Irish breakfast cooked by one of the hosting coaches. Again, what hospitality!
10:00 am The camp is actually out in the country past Blarney, yes that Blarney. The kids there are concerned I will think their accent sounds country. I told them I don’t even know what an Irish country accent sounds like. One of the campers announces he is David Beckam’s son, except he obviously has some African ancestry. We come to learn he is David Beckom’s son, the not quite famous Irish league basketball player from the University of Colorado.
1:00 pm Lunch is a spectacular home cooked chicken curry. These people know how to treat coaches. Another glass of excellent Irish tea and I am ready to deal with rug rats until 6:00. Two other coaches and myself destroy the three best campers, by using the highly complex and extremely effective pass and cut to the rim for a wide open layup offense.
8:00 pm After another ham and turkey dinner I decide to go on my patented city exploration run. Cork is very pretty, hilly and right on the Lee River. There are many old and neat churches, pubs and schools. The river basically splits the town in half so there are a ton of small bridges to connect the city. All the churches were locked this late but I hope to see a few with the family. Ran by the Beamish brewery, which is a beer very similar to Guinness (some say better), only brewed in Cork. During run I also pass a pub with this joke painted on its window:
A pirate walks into a pub with a wheel sticking out his bum. Someone asks do you know there is wheel sticking out your bum. He replies (much funnier if you here my amazing pirate voice), “Aaargh, and its been driving me nuts all day.” Now that’s humor in any country.
10:00 pm After a quick shower it is now time to hit the pubs of Cork. Sadly we take a wrong turn and end up in the only 1 mile stretch of Ireland lacking a pub. We finally hit a place with a terrible cover band that claims they are out of Beamish. I’m tempted to tell them to send someone over to the brewery that is less than 300 yards away, but I think better of it. So one pint and we are out.
11:00 pm I say I don’t want an upscale looking place, just a local hole in the wall. Be careful what you wish for. We end up in a Biker bar. I’m the only one in there not wearing black and the guy with me is the only one in there who IS black. Needless to say we are both uncomfortable. But they have great Beamish and a pretty good hard rock band. Some songs they scream too much, but for the most part good music.
12:00 pm The next pub has some German guy see my hoodie and tell me it must be rough rooting for a team that loses all the big games. He took off before I could tell him it must be tough rooting for a country that loses all the big ones too, like WWI and WWII. After dancing to an MJ tribute and passing someone with a boom box blaring MJ and dressed in full on 80s garb, we call it a night. Pubs are fun here because you can just randomly start talking to people. No one is standoffish, so it makes for good craek.
10:00 am The camp is actually out in the country past Blarney, yes that Blarney. The kids there are concerned I will think their accent sounds country. I told them I don’t even know what an Irish country accent sounds like. One of the campers announces he is David Beckam’s son, except he obviously has some African ancestry. We come to learn he is David Beckom’s son, the not quite famous Irish league basketball player from the University of Colorado.
1:00 pm Lunch is a spectacular home cooked chicken curry. These people know how to treat coaches. Another glass of excellent Irish tea and I am ready to deal with rug rats until 6:00. Two other coaches and myself destroy the three best campers, by using the highly complex and extremely effective pass and cut to the rim for a wide open layup offense.
8:00 pm After another ham and turkey dinner I decide to go on my patented city exploration run. Cork is very pretty, hilly and right on the Lee River. There are many old and neat churches, pubs and schools. The river basically splits the town in half so there are a ton of small bridges to connect the city. All the churches were locked this late but I hope to see a few with the family. Ran by the Beamish brewery, which is a beer very similar to Guinness (some say better), only brewed in Cork. During run I also pass a pub with this joke painted on its window:
A pirate walks into a pub with a wheel sticking out his bum. Someone asks do you know there is wheel sticking out your bum. He replies (much funnier if you here my amazing pirate voice), “Aaargh, and its been driving me nuts all day.” Now that’s humor in any country.
10:00 pm After a quick shower it is now time to hit the pubs of Cork. Sadly we take a wrong turn and end up in the only 1 mile stretch of Ireland lacking a pub. We finally hit a place with a terrible cover band that claims they are out of Beamish. I’m tempted to tell them to send someone over to the brewery that is less than 300 yards away, but I think better of it. So one pint and we are out.
11:00 pm I say I don’t want an upscale looking place, just a local hole in the wall. Be careful what you wish for. We end up in a Biker bar. I’m the only one in there not wearing black and the guy with me is the only one in there who IS black. Needless to say we are both uncomfortable. But they have great Beamish and a pretty good hard rock band. Some songs they scream too much, but for the most part good music.
12:00 pm The next pub has some German guy see my hoodie and tell me it must be rough rooting for a team that loses all the big games. He took off before I could tell him it must be tough rooting for a country that loses all the big ones too, like WWI and WWII. After dancing to an MJ tribute and passing someone with a boom box blaring MJ and dressed in full on 80s garb, we call it a night. Pubs are fun here because you can just randomly start talking to people. No one is standoffish, so it makes for good craek.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
DAY 12
11:00 am Jog through town. Realizing this is a great way to tour a city. Especially when the thought of driving on these narrow, signless streets scares the crap out of me. I also find I am not worrying so much about being out of place. Probably because I was told to tuck the strings of my hoodie in, because no one here has the strings. Not as concerned with seeing all the sights, but just taking in the places. Transitioning ever so slightly from a tourist to a traveler.
Went in the most beautiful church I have ever been inside. The Galway Cathedral is not the most ornate, but it is incredible. Right over the alter it rises way up and gives it that “heavenly” feel. There is not that much stained glass, but what it has is spectacular. It’s stone walls are fairly bare, giving it a very classical feel.
Also, went inside the church St. Partrick’s collegiate from last night’s creepy adventure. It dates back to the 1300’s. Not nearly as breath taking but impressive for its age.
Ran down to Salt Hill, which is on the coast of Galway Bay. Even the stones on the shores have bright green something growing on them. Saw another church with a wedding about to happen. Later, around 5 what I assume to be that same wedding party scared the crap out of me by honking from their Rols Royce. Of course, with the narrow streets I was 2 feet from the car. Anyway, Salt Hill is just a nice stretch of rocky coast with an old light house.
1:00 pm Dave and I hit up lunch. Had some of his excellent Salmon while he tried my new favorite… LAMB. Bahhh!!
2:00 pm Asked a camera store about my camera and he informed me I am much better off just buying a new one and the requisite camera bag!
3:00 pm TK’s initial pickup time for the trip down to Cork of 3 or 4 has now been changed to 6. Irish time is great. Can’t complain, at least I’m not on a bus again.
4:00 pm Dave had to run and now I am locked in again. I turned in my spare key since my departure is imminent, but you need a key to even get out of our flat. This was not a problem when Dave left the door unlocked, but apparently Grannie downstairs is out and about. Luckily he left his phone with me so I can communicate with my ride, so the Kiwi coach from next door got the spare key and let me in. Irish doors are pissing me off.
4:15 pm With a couple of hours, probably more with the Irish, to kill I decide to hit the Galway museum. Nice place with a piece on JFK’s visit in June of ‘63. Apparantly all 8 of his great-grandparents were from Ireland. He is much beloved over here, as is Clinton, but for different reasons. Great view of the city and bay from the third floor. Many swans can be seen, which legend has it the souls of the departed return in the swans. Not making that up. Stopped by the famed Lynche’s window, where allegedly the mayor of Galway hung his son for killing a Spanish traveler. Also, Lynch’s castle is one of the oldest castles in the country and is now a bank. Again, not making that up.
7:00 pm Get picked up and now a lovely little three hour drive on the skinny Irish highways. Nice weather until we are an hour and a half out and then it pours for most of the rest of the trip.
10:00 pm We get there too late for the older men to want to go out to a pub. The fridge was graciously stocked with ham, turkey, tomatoes and a bunch of ice cream snacks. Cork is awesome. Every part of Ireland has a different accent. The Cork one is very sing songy. I found I can understand it with lots of effort and concentration. The problem is I will listen to a long joke or funny story and understand all of it, until at the very end, the teller will begin to giggle and I will miss the punchline. So after a minute of my fake laughter we do it all over again.
Went in the most beautiful church I have ever been inside. The Galway Cathedral is not the most ornate, but it is incredible. Right over the alter it rises way up and gives it that “heavenly” feel. There is not that much stained glass, but what it has is spectacular. It’s stone walls are fairly bare, giving it a very classical feel.
Also, went inside the church St. Partrick’s collegiate from last night’s creepy adventure. It dates back to the 1300’s. Not nearly as breath taking but impressive for its age.
Ran down to Salt Hill, which is on the coast of Galway Bay. Even the stones on the shores have bright green something growing on them. Saw another church with a wedding about to happen. Later, around 5 what I assume to be that same wedding party scared the crap out of me by honking from their Rols Royce. Of course, with the narrow streets I was 2 feet from the car. Anyway, Salt Hill is just a nice stretch of rocky coast with an old light house.
1:00 pm Dave and I hit up lunch. Had some of his excellent Salmon while he tried my new favorite… LAMB. Bahhh!!
2:00 pm Asked a camera store about my camera and he informed me I am much better off just buying a new one and the requisite camera bag!
3:00 pm TK’s initial pickup time for the trip down to Cork of 3 or 4 has now been changed to 6. Irish time is great. Can’t complain, at least I’m not on a bus again.
4:00 pm Dave had to run and now I am locked in again. I turned in my spare key since my departure is imminent, but you need a key to even get out of our flat. This was not a problem when Dave left the door unlocked, but apparently Grannie downstairs is out and about. Luckily he left his phone with me so I can communicate with my ride, so the Kiwi coach from next door got the spare key and let me in. Irish doors are pissing me off.
4:15 pm With a couple of hours, probably more with the Irish, to kill I decide to hit the Galway museum. Nice place with a piece on JFK’s visit in June of ‘63. Apparantly all 8 of his great-grandparents were from Ireland. He is much beloved over here, as is Clinton, but for different reasons. Great view of the city and bay from the third floor. Many swans can be seen, which legend has it the souls of the departed return in the swans. Not making that up. Stopped by the famed Lynche’s window, where allegedly the mayor of Galway hung his son for killing a Spanish traveler. Also, Lynch’s castle is one of the oldest castles in the country and is now a bank. Again, not making that up.
7:00 pm Get picked up and now a lovely little three hour drive on the skinny Irish highways. Nice weather until we are an hour and a half out and then it pours for most of the rest of the trip.
10:00 pm We get there too late for the older men to want to go out to a pub. The fridge was graciously stocked with ham, turkey, tomatoes and a bunch of ice cream snacks. Cork is awesome. Every part of Ireland has a different accent. The Cork one is very sing songy. I found I can understand it with lots of effort and concentration. The problem is I will listen to a long joke or funny story and understand all of it, until at the very end, the teller will begin to giggle and I will miss the punchline. So after a minute of my fake laughter we do it all over again.
DAY 11
10:00 am Hilarious day of camp. One camper (much funnier if you read this with an Irish accent) “Are we winning?” I reply, “You are up 8-2.” He replies, “Are we winning?” I reply, “You are up 8-2.” His response is “Are we winning?” Before replying, “You are up 8-2,” and entering into a time warp, I realize that apparently “up” as leading is not in this ten year old’s vernacular.
I reprimand a young boy because he threw the ball at another kid as hard as he could. After telling him he has to sit out the drill, he says he is sorry and then whispers quietly, “Are you going to tell Dave?” Even funnier, the kid hit with the ball is out of breath and when we go over to check on him, (again, much funnier if you read this with an Irish accent) “I got hit in the peanuts.”
6:00 pm What a night. This was the Ireland I expected. People singing old Irish drinking tunes and nearly starting fights. The people here are really funny. Everyone is great at telling stories and almost all are pretty laid back (except for the mean drunks that are very prevalent)
Evening started with me and and Big Dave having a few (turned into 4) pints at a local bar. After a few hours of this we realized we had neglected dinner. So he ran out to get “take away.” Comes back with a tiny sliver of pizza. So starving and now cold I offer to go back to the apartment and get him some more cash, cigarette filters (most people here save money by rolling their own cigarettes) and myself a jacket. Stupidly thinking we were only going out for a few pints, I wore shorts and a polo. But by 9 pm it turned into a Florida winter night. It couldn't have been warmer than 60 F. And they honestly complain that it is too hot this time of year. Most pubs close at midnight which can be annoying but as Big Dave says, “keeps you out of trouble.” He is correct as those with us were dying to buy round after round of Guinness.
I reprimand a young boy because he threw the ball at another kid as hard as he could. After telling him he has to sit out the drill, he says he is sorry and then whispers quietly, “Are you going to tell Dave?” Even funnier, the kid hit with the ball is out of breath and when we go over to check on him, (again, much funnier if you read this with an Irish accent) “I got hit in the peanuts.”
6:00 pm What a night. This was the Ireland I expected. People singing old Irish drinking tunes and nearly starting fights. The people here are really funny. Everyone is great at telling stories and almost all are pretty laid back (except for the mean drunks that are very prevalent)
Evening started with me and and Big Dave having a few (turned into 4) pints at a local bar. After a few hours of this we realized we had neglected dinner. So he ran out to get “take away.” Comes back with a tiny sliver of pizza. So starving and now cold I offer to go back to the apartment and get him some more cash, cigarette filters (most people here save money by rolling their own cigarettes) and myself a jacket. Stupidly thinking we were only going out for a few pints, I wore shorts and a polo. But by 9 pm it turned into a Florida winter night. It couldn't have been warmer than 60 F. And they honestly complain that it is too hot this time of year. Most pubs close at midnight which can be annoying but as Big Dave says, “keeps you out of trouble.” He is correct as those with us were dying to buy round after round of Guinness.
DAY 10
MAKE A COMMENT MY FAITHFUL READERS!! ANYTHING YOU WANT!! LET ME KNOW YOU EXIST!! THE OLD CHRIS WOULD DO IT!!
9:00 am Big Dave got a fumanchu shave and all the kids called him Master Chief Sheeshu from some Panda movie.
12:30 pm 5 Euro…. 5 Euro foot long. SUBWAY…again.
4:30 pm Came home. Used my buddies internet to check up on the world and check out the mobile home, that’s right mobile home, we might be staying in when my family get’s here.
6:00 pm Lamb shish kabob with salad and guess what food- FRIES!! Best meal I have had thus far. The lamb was AMAZING! Highly recommend the lamb here. I dare you to come here for more than three days and get a meal without potatoes. I double dare you.
7:30 pm Play pick-up basketball. A few things make it different. They don’t ever check the ball and on a foul they take the ball out underneath the basket. But they do take pride in nice passing and rarely dribble too much, so it makes for okay basketball. Sadly, I am the quickest guy out there and get a ton of steals. Obviously, the Irish are not the most athletic people. Also, when someone makes a ridiculous pass and it inevitably gets intercepted, the teammates of the bad passer will say, “oh, unlucky.” Unlucky my foot.
9:00 pm Have a great chat over some Guinness with my fellow coach from New Zealand and his brother-in-law, also a Kiwi. They tell me they just visited Bulgaria and it is beautiful, safe and ridiculously cheap. Apparently, since the mafia runs everything people are so scared of them they don’t break any laws. Store owners just leave there stuff out all night.
Also, these two both believe since the US is in debt at 65% of its GDP that the currency is about to collapse within 6 months. They ask me if people in the states are aware of the dangers and ridiculous concept of the Federal Reserve, and I politely inform him that No, to us it is more important who wins American Idol or the Super Bowl. Following the collapse of the currency, something called the Amero will be the currency for all of the America’s and Europe. I assure them that if this were to come about it would not be a seamless transition and while I love America, I am getting out if the dollar crashes.
12:00 am Pub closes at midnight and we walk back to our flats. Then it hits me that I am again not tired and wouldn’t mind processing a little of the Guinness before I hit the hay. So I walk, alone, to the city center. There, I find an old church right off of main street. Its gate is still open and I end up in a 16th century cemetery. Now, I often wonder if I make these ludicrous decisions just to be able to later tell the story. Who knows? So now the same girls from the other night are hawking their various pubs, so I go to one that is playing American style rock. Along the way a very creepy man in a bright blue plastic looking leisure suit is seemingly following me. I talk to some other people selling their clubs and let him pass. So I go to this bar thinking I’ll listen to two or three songs and call it a night….well…. the band plays Mr. Jones, an awesome version of the theme from cheers and a rock version of What a Wonderful World. Followed by ACDC Highway to Hell and a couple U2 songs. It was great until I saw my buddy in the plastic suit. So I go to the front of the bar to listen to one last song and head out. Half way through the song, plastic man is right across the room. Now, I’m a little weirded out. So I go to the bathroom and now upon leaving plastic man is talking to friends or just fellow members of a creespster fraternity. So I leave unnoticed and look back over my shoulder 14 times to ensure no blue plastic suit. I then get one block off on my walk home and see my first police car (the Guardia as they are called). Seeing a police car is not a good sign about the neighborhood I am in, but luckily one left and I again recognize my surroundings. Ireland is like Charleston, one block separates good neighborhoods from bad ones, but let’s be honest, their bad neighborhoods are not very bad at all.
9:00 am Big Dave got a fumanchu shave and all the kids called him Master Chief Sheeshu from some Panda movie.
12:30 pm 5 Euro…. 5 Euro foot long. SUBWAY…again.
4:30 pm Came home. Used my buddies internet to check up on the world and check out the mobile home, that’s right mobile home, we might be staying in when my family get’s here.
6:00 pm Lamb shish kabob with salad and guess what food- FRIES!! Best meal I have had thus far. The lamb was AMAZING! Highly recommend the lamb here. I dare you to come here for more than three days and get a meal without potatoes. I double dare you.
7:30 pm Play pick-up basketball. A few things make it different. They don’t ever check the ball and on a foul they take the ball out underneath the basket. But they do take pride in nice passing and rarely dribble too much, so it makes for okay basketball. Sadly, I am the quickest guy out there and get a ton of steals. Obviously, the Irish are not the most athletic people. Also, when someone makes a ridiculous pass and it inevitably gets intercepted, the teammates of the bad passer will say, “oh, unlucky.” Unlucky my foot.
9:00 pm Have a great chat over some Guinness with my fellow coach from New Zealand and his brother-in-law, also a Kiwi. They tell me they just visited Bulgaria and it is beautiful, safe and ridiculously cheap. Apparently, since the mafia runs everything people are so scared of them they don’t break any laws. Store owners just leave there stuff out all night.
Also, these two both believe since the US is in debt at 65% of its GDP that the currency is about to collapse within 6 months. They ask me if people in the states are aware of the dangers and ridiculous concept of the Federal Reserve, and I politely inform him that No, to us it is more important who wins American Idol or the Super Bowl. Following the collapse of the currency, something called the Amero will be the currency for all of the America’s and Europe. I assure them that if this were to come about it would not be a seamless transition and while I love America, I am getting out if the dollar crashes.
12:00 am Pub closes at midnight and we walk back to our flats. Then it hits me that I am again not tired and wouldn’t mind processing a little of the Guinness before I hit the hay. So I walk, alone, to the city center. There, I find an old church right off of main street. Its gate is still open and I end up in a 16th century cemetery. Now, I often wonder if I make these ludicrous decisions just to be able to later tell the story. Who knows? So now the same girls from the other night are hawking their various pubs, so I go to one that is playing American style rock. Along the way a very creepy man in a bright blue plastic looking leisure suit is seemingly following me. I talk to some other people selling their clubs and let him pass. So I go to this bar thinking I’ll listen to two or three songs and call it a night….well…. the band plays Mr. Jones, an awesome version of the theme from cheers and a rock version of What a Wonderful World. Followed by ACDC Highway to Hell and a couple U2 songs. It was great until I saw my buddy in the plastic suit. So I go to the front of the bar to listen to one last song and head out. Half way through the song, plastic man is right across the room. Now, I’m a little weirded out. So I go to the bathroom and now upon leaving plastic man is talking to friends or just fellow members of a creespster fraternity. So I leave unnoticed and look back over my shoulder 14 times to ensure no blue plastic suit. I then get one block off on my walk home and see my first police car (the Guardia as they are called). Seeing a police car is not a good sign about the neighborhood I am in, but luckily one left and I again recognize my surroundings. Ireland is like Charleston, one block separates good neighborhoods from bad ones, but let’s be honest, their bad neighborhoods are not very bad at all.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Irish Sports and Day 9
This is Croke Park in Dublin-seats 80,000 for big Gaelic football or hurling games or U2 concerts
Sports of Ireland
Part of the issue with the struggles of Irish basketball is the fact that is about 5 on the list of sports in that country. Some of these sports are very interesting and since the country is actually sports crazy I figured a brief description of the uniquely Irish sports is appropriate.
Gaelic Football
Like here in the states, FOOTBALL IS KING. Theirs is Gaelic football. It is a mix of soccer and rugby and I actually loved watching it. It is 15 on 15 with one goalie per team played on a field a little larger than a soccer pitch. There are American football-like uprights and a goal below the cross bar. If you put the ball in the goal you get three points and if you kick or punch the ball over the cross bar and between the uprights you get one point. You can run with the ball, but after four steps you either have to pass, bounce it or kick it to yourself. You can’t bounce it to yourself twice in a row, so the guys who can kick it to themselves without losing speed are very valuable. Watching me try to do this was quite comical. I have very good eye-hand coordination, but repulsive foot-eye coordination. When you pass, it has to be like a volleyball serve, punching the ball to a teammate. Grabbing and tackling are illegal, but you can use your shoulder to level a guy. Players in this league aren’t paid even though the big games have 80,000 fans paying at least 30 euro. Someone is getting rich. All 32 counties (even the 6 N. Ireland counties) have a team and they are now in the semis for the All-Ireland Championship. The best game I saw involved County Mayo and County Galway. Matches are two 35 minute halves and most end about 19 to 17 so a seven point lead is pretty secure. Not Mayo’s seven point lead. With only three minutes left, Galway scored four straight points, got a steal with 30 seconds left, kicked a hail mary, caught it and scored a goal to tie it. Sadly for them Mayo came right back with a goal during injury time.
Hurling
Hurling was my favorite. It is like hockey mixed with baseball played on a huge Gaelic football sized pitch. Again 15 on 15 with the same goal and uprights. Three for a goal and one for “over the bar.” Each player has a sliotar, which they use to whack a really hard ball at over 100 mph from one end to the other. You can only run with the ball by balancing it on your weapon/sliotar. They hold their sliotar opposite of how we hold a baseball bat. This brought much laughter when I played a little. But then I vowed I could hit it farther with my “backwards” grip than anyone else there. AND I DID. Ignore the fact they were all 12 or younger. I did America proud.
Interestingly, these first two are a part of the Gaelic Athletic Association. This has surprisingly important political and historical implications. The GAA was formed in 1884 when the strong push for Irish independence was brewing. These games were seen as a way to promote the Gaelic culture and stick their thumbs at the English games of soccer and cricket. Thank God, cause those games suck. Anyway, to this day, football and hurling are the very Irish and Catholic games, while the protestants in N. Ireland stick to soccer.
Rugby
The ancestor to American football. I like it for the most part, I just hate how often play slows down for scrums. Also, the throw in where the guy is hoisted high in the air has to be the most dangerous play (outside of Mike Vick’s backyard) in sports. It’s like a cheerleader pyramid in the middle of a football play. Plus a lot of players get this revolting looking cauliflower ear. It is appropriately named, since your ear ceases to look like an ear and now looks like a mutant piece of…well…cauliflower.
Soccer
Just as repulsively boring in Europe as it is over here. Sorry.
Golf
Somehow the natives find four hours of tolerable weather to get a round in.
Basketball
I do like the European pass first attitude, but not enough people play here for the level of play to be great.
DAY 9
9:00 am I don’t really know what jet lag is, but maybe it is never really getting a great night’s rest. Now I’m not exhausted or anything, but I keep giving myself a good 8 hours to sleep, but I keep waking up early and not really going back to bed. My body clock is more screwed up than Favre playing for the Vikings. So I lack full energy, but I’ll make it.
12:30 pm Thank God I love sandwiches, specifically Subway sandwiches, because I have had a sandwich everyday I’ve been on this beautiful island. Each camp gives you one for lunch and both days in Ballina I had one. Not complaining, just very thankful I am the type of person who can have oatmeal for breakfast for 8 straight months.
4:30 pm Left camp and toured the really old convent. There are headstones from the 1200’s. Joe, the driver and manager of the camp is an expert on the area, since he sings for the local parish. Again, he is hilarious and loves to tell Joe Foxworthy’s “You might be a hillbilly” jokes (didn't have the heart to correct him). “Oh those country and western Americans are so funny."
5:00 pm Now, instead of not being able to lock the door, I can’t even get out now. It ends up being you have to hold one latch while you pull another. So I spend an hour and half updating my blog entries. All is not lost. So far my only downfall in this county are doors, showers and “baby Guinessi” or is the plural of Guiness just Guiness. I’ll ask tonight.
7:00 pm We eat…. Traditional Irish…. Burritos. With of course taco fries, meaning fries with taco sauce doused on them. Fries come with EVERYTHING in this country. You know they are really good and fresh potatoes because they are not salty or greasy and they still taste excellent. Of course I am a connoisseur of all things potato. And do not fear they have Heinz 57!!!
Sports of Ireland
Part of the issue with the struggles of Irish basketball is the fact that is about 5 on the list of sports in that country. Some of these sports are very interesting and since the country is actually sports crazy I figured a brief description of the uniquely Irish sports is appropriate.
Gaelic Football
Like here in the states, FOOTBALL IS KING. Theirs is Gaelic football. It is a mix of soccer and rugby and I actually loved watching it. It is 15 on 15 with one goalie per team played on a field a little larger than a soccer pitch. There are American football-like uprights and a goal below the cross bar. If you put the ball in the goal you get three points and if you kick or punch the ball over the cross bar and between the uprights you get one point. You can run with the ball, but after four steps you either have to pass, bounce it or kick it to yourself. You can’t bounce it to yourself twice in a row, so the guys who can kick it to themselves without losing speed are very valuable. Watching me try to do this was quite comical. I have very good eye-hand coordination, but repulsive foot-eye coordination. When you pass, it has to be like a volleyball serve, punching the ball to a teammate. Grabbing and tackling are illegal, but you can use your shoulder to level a guy. Players in this league aren’t paid even though the big games have 80,000 fans paying at least 30 euro. Someone is getting rich. All 32 counties (even the 6 N. Ireland counties) have a team and they are now in the semis for the All-Ireland Championship. The best game I saw involved County Mayo and County Galway. Matches are two 35 minute halves and most end about 19 to 17 so a seven point lead is pretty secure. Not Mayo’s seven point lead. With only three minutes left, Galway scored four straight points, got a steal with 30 seconds left, kicked a hail mary, caught it and scored a goal to tie it. Sadly for them Mayo came right back with a goal during injury time.
Hurling
Hurling was my favorite. It is like hockey mixed with baseball played on a huge Gaelic football sized pitch. Again 15 on 15 with the same goal and uprights. Three for a goal and one for “over the bar.” Each player has a sliotar, which they use to whack a really hard ball at over 100 mph from one end to the other. You can only run with the ball by balancing it on your weapon/sliotar. They hold their sliotar opposite of how we hold a baseball bat. This brought much laughter when I played a little. But then I vowed I could hit it farther with my “backwards” grip than anyone else there. AND I DID. Ignore the fact they were all 12 or younger. I did America proud.
Interestingly, these first two are a part of the Gaelic Athletic Association. This has surprisingly important political and historical implications. The GAA was formed in 1884 when the strong push for Irish independence was brewing. These games were seen as a way to promote the Gaelic culture and stick their thumbs at the English games of soccer and cricket. Thank God, cause those games suck. Anyway, to this day, football and hurling are the very Irish and Catholic games, while the protestants in N. Ireland stick to soccer.
Rugby
The ancestor to American football. I like it for the most part, I just hate how often play slows down for scrums. Also, the throw in where the guy is hoisted high in the air has to be the most dangerous play (outside of Mike Vick’s backyard) in sports. It’s like a cheerleader pyramid in the middle of a football play. Plus a lot of players get this revolting looking cauliflower ear. It is appropriately named, since your ear ceases to look like an ear and now looks like a mutant piece of…well…cauliflower.
Soccer
Just as repulsively boring in Europe as it is over here. Sorry.
Golf
Somehow the natives find four hours of tolerable weather to get a round in.
Basketball
I do like the European pass first attitude, but not enough people play here for the level of play to be great.
DAY 9
9:00 am I don’t really know what jet lag is, but maybe it is never really getting a great night’s rest. Now I’m not exhausted or anything, but I keep giving myself a good 8 hours to sleep, but I keep waking up early and not really going back to bed. My body clock is more screwed up than Favre playing for the Vikings. So I lack full energy, but I’ll make it.
12:30 pm Thank God I love sandwiches, specifically Subway sandwiches, because I have had a sandwich everyday I’ve been on this beautiful island. Each camp gives you one for lunch and both days in Ballina I had one. Not complaining, just very thankful I am the type of person who can have oatmeal for breakfast for 8 straight months.
4:30 pm Left camp and toured the really old convent. There are headstones from the 1200’s. Joe, the driver and manager of the camp is an expert on the area, since he sings for the local parish. Again, he is hilarious and loves to tell Joe Foxworthy’s “You might be a hillbilly” jokes (didn't have the heart to correct him). “Oh those country and western Americans are so funny."
5:00 pm Now, instead of not being able to lock the door, I can’t even get out now. It ends up being you have to hold one latch while you pull another. So I spend an hour and half updating my blog entries. All is not lost. So far my only downfall in this county are doors, showers and “baby Guinessi” or is the plural of Guiness just Guiness. I’ll ask tonight.
7:00 pm We eat…. Traditional Irish…. Burritos. With of course taco fries, meaning fries with taco sauce doused on them. Fries come with EVERYTHING in this country. You know they are really good and fresh potatoes because they are not salty or greasy and they still taste excellent. Of course I am a connoisseur of all things potato. And do not fear they have Heinz 57!!!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Day 7 and 8
The cathedral in Ballina - I didn't get to see it till later
Ballina's River of Moy is known as possibly the best salmon fishing in the world
10:00 AM OHHH! What a headache
11:00 AM OHHH! What a headache
12:00 PM OHHH! What a headache
Hopefully today will be my least fun day in the Emerald Isle. I am paying for the great fun of the previous evening. After breakfast I lay about and watch some Gaelic football and hurling. Both extremely fun games. I'll explain those games in a future blog.
I even slept through mass, which for those that know me is extremely rare. Oops. It’s a very nice cathedral so I would have liked making that for the aethstetic as well as the spiritual.
3:00 PM Spent an hour driving around the pretty country with TK. His hospitality was incredible. Wouldn’t let me pay for anything and had breakfast and lunch served before I even got to the kitchen.
8:00 PM Stomach STILL a bit queezy but made it through some more Chinese. They love it here.
NEXT DAY
6:30 AM Getting up early to make a 7:15 bus or "coach" ride down to Galway. From asking around, Haggerty is a Galway name, so maybe I’ll bump into some kin folk.
9:20 AM Joe, who is running the camp, picks me up at the coach station. He is hilarious. He talks at 100 mph, I mean 150 km/hr. Great guy and excellent tour guide. Tells me they had the plans to build Trinity College in Dublin, Queens College in N. Ireland and whatever school is in Galway. After building it, they realized they accidentally built the N. Ireland Queens College in Galway.
10:00 AM Realizing that Irish kids aren’t any better than American kids. It’s more a socio-economic thing. This camp is for disadvantaged kids and is very cheap. The kids don’t listen well at all and some of them are just plain turds. But there are enough good ones to still make it a fun camp. Plus, they are very young. One session is 7-10 year olds with a few 5 and 6 year olds scattered in. That is just baby sitting using a basketball instead of Barney movies.
1:00 PM At the second session for 11-13 year olds I meet Mini-me. He looks just like I looked at 12- freckles, red hair, blue eyes and usually smiling. Except his smile doesn’t consist of a gap you can fit a nickel through (true, I tried it) and lacks the aviator spectacles I rocked back in 1993. Ironically enough his name is Sean Kelly. With a brother named Patrick. So weird. He even acts like me – you know suave, debanaur, all the female campers love him and the male campers want to be him. But seriously he does kind of have my goofy demeanor.
4:00 PM Quitting time and we head home. My new roomie, Dave from New Foundland, Canada says he’s gotta stop off somewhere and will be home in a few. I come to realize he “goes dark” frequently and it is to… Meet up with hot babes?…nope, just smoke dubies. Thankfully I give off the no dubies vibe, so I don’t have to turn down offers to toke it up. Anyway, while he is rollin a fattie, I knock out for an incredible one hour nap.
6:00 PM Chicken philly at a local café is excellent and of course the fries, I’m sorry “chips,” are excellent. Right as we are about to get a pint we get a call to go shoot hoops at the local college. This leads to us breaking into the college and hoping the “caretaker” does not come around.
9:00 PM Harassed by a girl with bright pink hair trying to get us to save the Africans, who die not most often from AIDS or warfare or sheer boredom in the desert, but dehydration. Apparantly my 12 Euros a month can make a well for an entire village. Not buying it. Me and Dave (the canuck) both agree we like to give our money locally. I agree with the great comedian Sam Kinneson, “Why are there all these infomercials for these African people starving. I want to go over there and say, ‘What is this? It’s fecking sand, you know what it will be in a thousand years. Still fecking sand. MOVE TO WHERE THE FOOD IS!”
10:00 PM Late night bball workout. My roomie is trying to remain a pro, so we work on our aging skills.
9:30 PM Big pint of Guiness and even better pint of water. The bartender himself rights their Guiness at an 8. I appreciate his honesty. I’d say he is spot on.
11:00 PM Every attractive girl in Galway is out trying to offer us free cover to various clubs. You know me and free so I’m thinking let’s go to the flat and change and take advantage, but big 6’8 Dave is having nothing of it. So we have to let all these pretty ladies down easy.
Ballina's River of Moy is known as possibly the best salmon fishing in the world
10:00 AM OHHH! What a headache
11:00 AM OHHH! What a headache
12:00 PM OHHH! What a headache
Hopefully today will be my least fun day in the Emerald Isle. I am paying for the great fun of the previous evening. After breakfast I lay about and watch some Gaelic football and hurling. Both extremely fun games. I'll explain those games in a future blog.
I even slept through mass, which for those that know me is extremely rare. Oops. It’s a very nice cathedral so I would have liked making that for the aethstetic as well as the spiritual.
3:00 PM Spent an hour driving around the pretty country with TK. His hospitality was incredible. Wouldn’t let me pay for anything and had breakfast and lunch served before I even got to the kitchen.
8:00 PM Stomach STILL a bit queezy but made it through some more Chinese. They love it here.
NEXT DAY
6:30 AM Getting up early to make a 7:15 bus or "coach" ride down to Galway. From asking around, Haggerty is a Galway name, so maybe I’ll bump into some kin folk.
9:20 AM Joe, who is running the camp, picks me up at the coach station. He is hilarious. He talks at 100 mph, I mean 150 km/hr. Great guy and excellent tour guide. Tells me they had the plans to build Trinity College in Dublin, Queens College in N. Ireland and whatever school is in Galway. After building it, they realized they accidentally built the N. Ireland Queens College in Galway.
10:00 AM Realizing that Irish kids aren’t any better than American kids. It’s more a socio-economic thing. This camp is for disadvantaged kids and is very cheap. The kids don’t listen well at all and some of them are just plain turds. But there are enough good ones to still make it a fun camp. Plus, they are very young. One session is 7-10 year olds with a few 5 and 6 year olds scattered in. That is just baby sitting using a basketball instead of Barney movies.
1:00 PM At the second session for 11-13 year olds I meet Mini-me. He looks just like I looked at 12- freckles, red hair, blue eyes and usually smiling. Except his smile doesn’t consist of a gap you can fit a nickel through (true, I tried it) and lacks the aviator spectacles I rocked back in 1993. Ironically enough his name is Sean Kelly. With a brother named Patrick. So weird. He even acts like me – you know suave, debanaur, all the female campers love him and the male campers want to be him. But seriously he does kind of have my goofy demeanor.
4:00 PM Quitting time and we head home. My new roomie, Dave from New Foundland, Canada says he’s gotta stop off somewhere and will be home in a few. I come to realize he “goes dark” frequently and it is to… Meet up with hot babes?…nope, just smoke dubies. Thankfully I give off the no dubies vibe, so I don’t have to turn down offers to toke it up. Anyway, while he is rollin a fattie, I knock out for an incredible one hour nap.
6:00 PM Chicken philly at a local café is excellent and of course the fries, I’m sorry “chips,” are excellent. Right as we are about to get a pint we get a call to go shoot hoops at the local college. This leads to us breaking into the college and hoping the “caretaker” does not come around.
9:00 PM Harassed by a girl with bright pink hair trying to get us to save the Africans, who die not most often from AIDS or warfare or sheer boredom in the desert, but dehydration. Apparantly my 12 Euros a month can make a well for an entire village. Not buying it. Me and Dave (the canuck) both agree we like to give our money locally. I agree with the great comedian Sam Kinneson, “Why are there all these infomercials for these African people starving. I want to go over there and say, ‘What is this? It’s fecking sand, you know what it will be in a thousand years. Still fecking sand. MOVE TO WHERE THE FOOD IS!”
10:00 PM Late night bball workout. My roomie is trying to remain a pro, so we work on our aging skills.
9:30 PM Big pint of Guiness and even better pint of water. The bartender himself rights their Guiness at an 8. I appreciate his honesty. I’d say he is spot on.
11:00 PM Every attractive girl in Galway is out trying to offer us free cover to various clubs. You know me and free so I’m thinking let’s go to the flat and change and take advantage, but big 6’8 Dave is having nothing of it. So we have to let all these pretty ladies down easy.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
DAY 6
Castle in Ballina, Ireland
The River Moy in Ballina with their lovely cathedral
9:00 am Woke up and wanted to perhaps go for a jog, but after running probably 10 miles total in the last two days I decided to take it easy.
Sidebar - At many points during the day was somewhat saddened I would not be grilling out and celebrating the birth of our great nation. Hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July. Even though we stuck it to the British, who the Irish hate for good reason, they do not celebrate our Independence Day.
10:00 am No more cereal. Getting very used to missing meals here.
12:00 am Terry Kennedy shows up to take me to his place. He is the one who arranged this trip. He is known as TK so we will do the same in the interest of saving typing time. He asks me if I have had lunch and I emphatically say no. He is also hungry but in typical Irish fashion we still sit around and BS for two hours before leaving.
2:00 pm Ride over to Ballina is nice and TK tells a great story about the fighting in N. Ireland. I thought the fighting there ended in the late 80’s. Stupid American. They signed a peace deal in 2002. And there are still occasional flair ups. For those who care, the fighting is between loyalists who want to remain under British rule and the Irish Republican Army (IRA) who want N. Ireland’s 8 counties to join the other 32 as one Irish nation. Anyway, TK was playing a game in Belfast in the early 80s and before the game they were seeing the sights and walking through a neighborhood. Suddenly all three of them had guns pulled on them by the police. Neighbors had phoned them in as suspicious characters. Luckily they were just told to go back to their hotel rooms and stay there.
3:00 pm Finally lunch at a nice diner that seats a grand total of 12 peoples. It is right on what they call a beach. The water never gets above 60 degrees, but apparently there is very good surfing on the NW coast of Ireland.
4:00 pm TK shows me the many sights of Ballina. They have a quaint little castle, the best salmon fishing river in the world and a beautiful cathedral. They also have 20-30 pubs even though the town is about the size of Seneca, SC. This seems not that abnormal since each pub appears to be very small. But, most of these pubs with there small street front extend forever in depth. They also have at least 3 stories, each one differing in the type of music. More on this later with even an appearance by OOC.
7:30 pm TK’s family is lovely. The mother and daughter are warm and funny people and make me feel welcome. Even there loud but small dog is not a problem on my allergies. Thank god they keep their two cats outside. After a great meal of fresh cod, corn and guess… potatoes, we head out to the pub.
Sidebar – You know those nights where you start drinking at a pretty good pace with one group. Then you get caught up with another group who is way behind you. Yet your too much of a prideful man to say sorry, I can’t keep up this “torrid” pace. So you go toe to toe with the new group. Never ends well. Ever happen to you? Why do I ask? No reason.
9:00 TK turns me on to a Dutch beer Carlsberg. Good stuff. Very smooth and apparently decently strong. After 4 pints at 3 different I am feeling pretty good.
11:30 Meet up with TK’s wife and her younger friends. Don’t remember their names, what they do for a living, but there was 4 of them and they were hilarious and fun…and they got to meet OOC. For those that don’t know (and if you don’t I wonder why you are reading this blog) OOC stands for Out Of Control. He is my alter ego who looms large after a heavy night of drinking. I am not proud of his accomplishments, but just to give you an idea, they include and are not limited to shooting a firework of Joe’s jugular, going “Nascar” with a champagne bottle in Tiger Town Tavern the night before my graduation and a whole lot of stomping on the dance floor at weddings. He has never been to Ireland but he is looming.
12:00 am So at midnight TK and his wife decide they’re calling it a night, but I should stay out with the girls. Sounds great, but they are just starting to booze and begin ordering beers and a round of “Baby Guinness.” Who knows what they are, but they awaken the beast. So now we are going to the club. Normally very opposed, but when in Rome. Plus I’d like to at least see what goes on at a European night club. Well, very similar to an American one except almost everyone dances, including of course OOC. In America it seems those with rhythm dance and those who don’t stay off the dance floor. Well, in Ireland, no one has rhythm so everyone dances, surprisingly in a manner very familiar to OOC. I told you guys I am more Irish than I ever realized. At one point OOC broke into an Irish river dance. Not really, but I had a ton of fun.
2:30 Spent 30 min waiting on a cab and OOC met TK’s daughter. That made for amusement the next day. All in all, a successful Irish pub crawl. The next day would be a very different story.
The River Moy in Ballina with their lovely cathedral
9:00 am Woke up and wanted to perhaps go for a jog, but after running probably 10 miles total in the last two days I decided to take it easy.
Sidebar - At many points during the day was somewhat saddened I would not be grilling out and celebrating the birth of our great nation. Hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July. Even though we stuck it to the British, who the Irish hate for good reason, they do not celebrate our Independence Day.
10:00 am No more cereal. Getting very used to missing meals here.
12:00 am Terry Kennedy shows up to take me to his place. He is the one who arranged this trip. He is known as TK so we will do the same in the interest of saving typing time. He asks me if I have had lunch and I emphatically say no. He is also hungry but in typical Irish fashion we still sit around and BS for two hours before leaving.
2:00 pm Ride over to Ballina is nice and TK tells a great story about the fighting in N. Ireland. I thought the fighting there ended in the late 80’s. Stupid American. They signed a peace deal in 2002. And there are still occasional flair ups. For those who care, the fighting is between loyalists who want to remain under British rule and the Irish Republican Army (IRA) who want N. Ireland’s 8 counties to join the other 32 as one Irish nation. Anyway, TK was playing a game in Belfast in the early 80s and before the game they were seeing the sights and walking through a neighborhood. Suddenly all three of them had guns pulled on them by the police. Neighbors had phoned them in as suspicious characters. Luckily they were just told to go back to their hotel rooms and stay there.
3:00 pm Finally lunch at a nice diner that seats a grand total of 12 peoples. It is right on what they call a beach. The water never gets above 60 degrees, but apparently there is very good surfing on the NW coast of Ireland.
4:00 pm TK shows me the many sights of Ballina. They have a quaint little castle, the best salmon fishing river in the world and a beautiful cathedral. They also have 20-30 pubs even though the town is about the size of Seneca, SC. This seems not that abnormal since each pub appears to be very small. But, most of these pubs with there small street front extend forever in depth. They also have at least 3 stories, each one differing in the type of music. More on this later with even an appearance by OOC.
7:30 pm TK’s family is lovely. The mother and daughter are warm and funny people and make me feel welcome. Even there loud but small dog is not a problem on my allergies. Thank god they keep their two cats outside. After a great meal of fresh cod, corn and guess… potatoes, we head out to the pub.
Sidebar – You know those nights where you start drinking at a pretty good pace with one group. Then you get caught up with another group who is way behind you. Yet your too much of a prideful man to say sorry, I can’t keep up this “torrid” pace. So you go toe to toe with the new group. Never ends well. Ever happen to you? Why do I ask? No reason.
9:00 TK turns me on to a Dutch beer Carlsberg. Good stuff. Very smooth and apparently decently strong. After 4 pints at 3 different I am feeling pretty good.
11:30 Meet up with TK’s wife and her younger friends. Don’t remember their names, what they do for a living, but there was 4 of them and they were hilarious and fun…and they got to meet OOC. For those that don’t know (and if you don’t I wonder why you are reading this blog) OOC stands for Out Of Control. He is my alter ego who looms large after a heavy night of drinking. I am not proud of his accomplishments, but just to give you an idea, they include and are not limited to shooting a firework of Joe’s jugular, going “Nascar” with a champagne bottle in Tiger Town Tavern the night before my graduation and a whole lot of stomping on the dance floor at weddings. He has never been to Ireland but he is looming.
12:00 am So at midnight TK and his wife decide they’re calling it a night, but I should stay out with the girls. Sounds great, but they are just starting to booze and begin ordering beers and a round of “Baby Guinness.” Who knows what they are, but they awaken the beast. So now we are going to the club. Normally very opposed, but when in Rome. Plus I’d like to at least see what goes on at a European night club. Well, very similar to an American one except almost everyone dances, including of course OOC. In America it seems those with rhythm dance and those who don’t stay off the dance floor. Well, in Ireland, no one has rhythm so everyone dances, surprisingly in a manner very familiar to OOC. I told you guys I am more Irish than I ever realized. At one point OOC broke into an Irish river dance. Not really, but I had a ton of fun.
2:30 Spent 30 min waiting on a cab and OOC met TK’s daughter. That made for amusement the next day. All in all, a successful Irish pub crawl. The next day would be a very different story.
DAY 5
8:30 am Camp ends with no real excitement. We spend one whole hour towards the end passing out t-shirts and taking a group photograph that will end up in the local papers. Apparently a basketball camp is big news in Ireland. I tell the campers my new quote that has stuck with me lately and I have been using at all the camps- “If you think you can, you are correct. If you think you can’t, you are still correct.” Love it. One camper’s dad said he loved it as well. As for the campers I’d say 25% were listening. Of that group probable 30% grasped it. All in all, the average Irish kid seems a little sharper and much better at listening than your average American kid. They seem to respect their elders a little better as well.
4:00 PM After camp, one of the Sligoneans drives me around for a quick tour of the area. This includes beautiful views of the countryside. Steep green hills overlooking clear blue loughs (lakes). Also, there is a place called Holy Well that apparently our boy Yeats used as inspiration to do his poetry thing. As my tour guide eloquently added, “Not sure why the hell it is holy though.” I later learned that it is called that because that is the place in town where Christians were first baptized.
5:00 PM Following this driving tour and with my new found knowledge on how to lock a door, I took another longer jog around town. Tried to make it to this Holy Well to take some pictures with my cell phone (my new backup camera), but it ended up being too far. Funny enough, four people asked me for directions on this run. See, I told you I look very Irish, but I had to inform them I have no clue where anything is in this town.
7:00 PM Joined my host for his Gaelic football practice, oops I mean training. At one point it got cold and rainy so I hid in his car to finish up his book I borrowed about Allen Iverson. In my non-jogging spare time over the last 3 days I managed to finish the 240 page biography. Iverson is a fascinating enigma. Always close to trouble, but seemingly by most accounts a pretty decent person. Good husband and dad and supports 31 jobless deadbeats from his hometown, who probably STILL collect welfare at the same time. I wonder how many people could make it out of the magnetic pull of the ghetto. He is again my favorite NBA player. Call me crazy, but I love how hard he plays.
9:00 PM After training we try to get Chinese. Yes, Chinese in Ireland. Apparently it is very good, but also very different to what we are accustomed to in the states. The place is somehow closed at 9 on a Friday because the owner is a “humpy” lady, Irish for lazy. Worked out great because we went out to Strand Hill for another Chinese place that was half the price and of course connected to a pub. So, we had to have a pint of Guinness while we waited. It was worth the 15 minute drive out there for the incredible view and sunset. This was my first chance to see the Atlantic from the East side. Weird to think that there is nothing between Me and my homeland but that body of water. Also crazy to think how millions of immigrants crossed that body of water on shabby vessels with nothing but sail power to get there. Color wise, It was very close to a Clemson caliber sunset and with the added mountains and ocean I would have to give it a 9 out of 10.
10:00 PM The Chinese is very different and I find it pretty good. I have the least sophisticated palette of anyone I know so you should probably decide for yourself. Couple of MGDs and we call it a night. Wild and crazy Friday night in Sligo, Ireland.
View from Sligo Highway
Pictures of the beautiful Holy Well
Statue of the Sligo Man W.B. Yeats - it's even funnier looking in person
The abondoned 12th cetury Abbey of Sligo
4:00 PM After camp, one of the Sligoneans drives me around for a quick tour of the area. This includes beautiful views of the countryside. Steep green hills overlooking clear blue loughs (lakes). Also, there is a place called Holy Well that apparently our boy Yeats used as inspiration to do his poetry thing. As my tour guide eloquently added, “Not sure why the hell it is holy though.” I later learned that it is called that because that is the place in town where Christians were first baptized.
5:00 PM Following this driving tour and with my new found knowledge on how to lock a door, I took another longer jog around town. Tried to make it to this Holy Well to take some pictures with my cell phone (my new backup camera), but it ended up being too far. Funny enough, four people asked me for directions on this run. See, I told you I look very Irish, but I had to inform them I have no clue where anything is in this town.
7:00 PM Joined my host for his Gaelic football practice, oops I mean training. At one point it got cold and rainy so I hid in his car to finish up his book I borrowed about Allen Iverson. In my non-jogging spare time over the last 3 days I managed to finish the 240 page biography. Iverson is a fascinating enigma. Always close to trouble, but seemingly by most accounts a pretty decent person. Good husband and dad and supports 31 jobless deadbeats from his hometown, who probably STILL collect welfare at the same time. I wonder how many people could make it out of the magnetic pull of the ghetto. He is again my favorite NBA player. Call me crazy, but I love how hard he plays.
9:00 PM After training we try to get Chinese. Yes, Chinese in Ireland. Apparently it is very good, but also very different to what we are accustomed to in the states. The place is somehow closed at 9 on a Friday because the owner is a “humpy” lady, Irish for lazy. Worked out great because we went out to Strand Hill for another Chinese place that was half the price and of course connected to a pub. So, we had to have a pint of Guinness while we waited. It was worth the 15 minute drive out there for the incredible view and sunset. This was my first chance to see the Atlantic from the East side. Weird to think that there is nothing between Me and my homeland but that body of water. Also crazy to think how millions of immigrants crossed that body of water on shabby vessels with nothing but sail power to get there. Color wise, It was very close to a Clemson caliber sunset and with the added mountains and ocean I would have to give it a 9 out of 10.
10:00 PM The Chinese is very different and I find it pretty good. I have the least sophisticated palette of anyone I know so you should probably decide for yourself. Couple of MGDs and we call it a night. Wild and crazy Friday night in Sligo, Ireland.
View from Sligo HighwayPictures of the beautiful Holy Well
Statue of the Sligo Man W.B. Yeats - it's even funnier looking in person
The abondoned 12th cetury Abbey of Sligo
Thursday, August 13, 2009
DAY 4
8:30 AM Craving orange juice. Not to complain, but just trying to understand how someone who runs a grocery store has nothing (save beer) in their refrigerator. Not kidding. Only thing in there is beer, a LOT of beer. Good old Miller Genuine Draft. Due to Bi-Lo having MGD on super sale in 1999, that was the drink of choice as a freshman at Clemson.
10:00 AM 2nd day of camp. Nothing real eventful. One passionate camper shows the Irish temper when he screams at me as the ref, made even funnier since at age 11 he somehow had this deep baritone of a 40 year old.
4:30 PM After camp, I decide to explore through town. I jog a couple of miles and stumble upon a 13th century abbey, the Yeats (born in Sligo) museum, a memorial of the “Great Hunger” (Potato famine) and their beautiful cathedral. Probably the overall prettiest building I have been in so far this trip. Made it home by 6:30 so that I could eat dinner with the roommate before the soccer game he was going to.
8:30 PM Apparently he went straight to the soccer game from work. I can’t leave because I don’t know how to lock the stupid door. Come to learn you have to hold the door handle all the way up while locking.
9:00 PM Host is home and we are now heading out to a pub. It’s rugby appreciation night or some nonsense, but the most important thing is that the pub is grilling and giving away free burgers and chicken wings. WHAT A BREAK!! Guinness differs a lot even amongst pubs within Ireland, as this pint is not nearly as good as my first one. They have a competition between three girls to see who can pour the best glass of Guinness, which takes a lot of patience and skill (tons of head with Guinness). Winner received tickets to Springsteen. Listen to a lot of MJ (they love him and are saddened by his death over here) and call it a night. So glad I got to eat and the freeness of the food is as I say…AWESOME!!
11:00 pm Some girl is embarrassingly inebriated and leans into to whisper something in my ear, “I’m 17 today, shhhh.” Nice.
Here is some Yeats for you poetry fans. It is kinda creepy how they move his lips Conan O'Brien skit style.
Here is 3 really good and short poems as well:
"When you are old"
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
"He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silverlight,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
An Irish Airman Forsees His Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
10:00 AM 2nd day of camp. Nothing real eventful. One passionate camper shows the Irish temper when he screams at me as the ref, made even funnier since at age 11 he somehow had this deep baritone of a 40 year old.
4:30 PM After camp, I decide to explore through town. I jog a couple of miles and stumble upon a 13th century abbey, the Yeats (born in Sligo) museum, a memorial of the “Great Hunger” (Potato famine) and their beautiful cathedral. Probably the overall prettiest building I have been in so far this trip. Made it home by 6:30 so that I could eat dinner with the roommate before the soccer game he was going to.
8:30 PM Apparently he went straight to the soccer game from work. I can’t leave because I don’t know how to lock the stupid door. Come to learn you have to hold the door handle all the way up while locking.
9:00 PM Host is home and we are now heading out to a pub. It’s rugby appreciation night or some nonsense, but the most important thing is that the pub is grilling and giving away free burgers and chicken wings. WHAT A BREAK!! Guinness differs a lot even amongst pubs within Ireland, as this pint is not nearly as good as my first one. They have a competition between three girls to see who can pour the best glass of Guinness, which takes a lot of patience and skill (tons of head with Guinness). Winner received tickets to Springsteen. Listen to a lot of MJ (they love him and are saddened by his death over here) and call it a night. So glad I got to eat and the freeness of the food is as I say…AWESOME!!
11:00 pm Some girl is embarrassingly inebriated and leans into to whisper something in my ear, “I’m 17 today, shhhh.” Nice.
Here is some Yeats for you poetry fans. It is kinda creepy how they move his lips Conan O'Brien skit style.
Here is 3 really good and short poems as well:
"When you are old"
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
"He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silverlight,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
An Irish Airman Forsees His Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Seperated by a common language & DAY 3
Since I will spatter my blog with Irish sayings, I figured a glossary of terms was in order. Gaelic is actually the first and official language, but it is only spoken in small pockets of the country. Everyone learns it in school, but in most areas it is not spoken at home and then of course the students lose it. So here are the subtle changes in language which are fun and sometimes comical.
That was good “craek.” Pronounced like crack, but with a way different meaning. It means that was good fun.
He’s a good “craeker.” Again way different meaning than here.
“Cheers.” Not used before drinking as much as it is used as a salutation.
"Oh Feck" classy way of f-bombing
That TV show was pure "Shite" Classy way of saying the s word
That is a “lovely” chap.
Come on “lads.” Lads are of course young boys.
There is a basketball “match” tomorrow.
Meet me at the rugby “pitch.” Field
Let’s eat “take away.”
That area of town is a little “dodgey.” we would say ghetto
The camp ends at “half 4.” 4:30
We’re going to the “cinema” to see a “film.” With film pronounced filim.
Where’s your “toilet?”
We are going on “holiday.”
Give your friend a “ring” on your “mobile.”
Don’t miss your basketball “training.”
I’m “grand.” This means happy, content.
That food was “gorgeous.” You can guess what that means, but I told them we reserve gorgeous for people or scenery.
My old and somewhat broken glasses are a wee bit “wonkey.” screwed-up
“Mind” my purse. That means watch it.
9:00 AM 1st Irish shower is an adventure. Close readers of this blog will realize this is my first shower since Tampa on DAY 1. Bathroom is small and when I ask my host for a towel, he realizes he has no clean ones. Needless to say he is single. Why I didn't pack a towel is beyond me. Apparently you have to push an immersion button and wait fifteen minutes to get hot water. There is no curtain, just a folding glass door that I cannot figure out. This leads to half of all shower water now on floor, with again no towel to clean up. Hopefully tomorrow will bring more bathroom success.
10:00 AM Camp starts at half 10. Half 10 is 10 in IST (Irish Standard Time). Half the coaches weren't even there till 9:55. Camp is great. Kids work hard and appear to listen better than their American counterparts. Other than when I say y'all (nasty habit) they can understand what I am saying. I love basketball. In any country or language the fundamentals and passion needed for success are the same.
4:00 PM After camp...Jet Lag. I knock out for two hours. I was hoping I could rise above this thing called jet lag, but that nap was the best part of my trip so far.
6:30 PM After nap, I go to my new roommates practice for his under 14 basketball team. He lets me show him a lot of drills and they seemed to have fun experiencing an American type workout.
8:30 PM First pub meal and more importantly first Guinness. There is much truth to the rumor that it is much better over here. None of that strong and bitter after taste, just Irish goodness. Then we pick up two Irish lassies and head home.
10:30 PM Who can guess the false statement in the above entry? So my host and I go to see his buddy Mel (alone). Mel owns a B&B (very prevalent on the Emerald Isle) and collects beautiful and pricey furniture. He is also the only guy in Ireland who doesn't drink. We have an amazing "chat" about life, love and the pursuit of happiness, which he feels socialists (including Obama-be real he's a socialist) ruin that pursuit of happiness. Interestingly, not all Europeans are socialist leaning.
"ONE TRILLION DOLLARS FOR SOCIALIZED MEDICINE IS AWESOME!!"
That was good “craek.” Pronounced like crack, but with a way different meaning. It means that was good fun.
He’s a good “craeker.” Again way different meaning than here.
“Cheers.” Not used before drinking as much as it is used as a salutation.
"Oh Feck" classy way of f-bombing
That TV show was pure "Shite" Classy way of saying the s word
That is a “lovely” chap.
Come on “lads.” Lads are of course young boys.
There is a basketball “match” tomorrow.
Meet me at the rugby “pitch.” Field
Let’s eat “take away.”
That area of town is a little “dodgey.” we would say ghetto
The camp ends at “half 4.” 4:30
We’re going to the “cinema” to see a “film.” With film pronounced filim.
Where’s your “toilet?”
We are going on “holiday.”
Give your friend a “ring” on your “mobile.”
Don’t miss your basketball “training.”
I’m “grand.” This means happy, content.
That food was “gorgeous.” You can guess what that means, but I told them we reserve gorgeous for people or scenery.
My old and somewhat broken glasses are a wee bit “wonkey.” screwed-up
“Mind” my purse. That means watch it.
9:00 AM 1st Irish shower is an adventure. Close readers of this blog will realize this is my first shower since Tampa on DAY 1. Bathroom is small and when I ask my host for a towel, he realizes he has no clean ones. Needless to say he is single. Why I didn't pack a towel is beyond me. Apparently you have to push an immersion button and wait fifteen minutes to get hot water. There is no curtain, just a folding glass door that I cannot figure out. This leads to half of all shower water now on floor, with again no towel to clean up. Hopefully tomorrow will bring more bathroom success.
10:00 AM Camp starts at half 10. Half 10 is 10 in IST (Irish Standard Time). Half the coaches weren't even there till 9:55. Camp is great. Kids work hard and appear to listen better than their American counterparts. Other than when I say y'all (nasty habit) they can understand what I am saying. I love basketball. In any country or language the fundamentals and passion needed for success are the same.
4:00 PM After camp...Jet Lag. I knock out for two hours. I was hoping I could rise above this thing called jet lag, but that nap was the best part of my trip so far.
6:30 PM After nap, I go to my new roommates practice for his under 14 basketball team. He lets me show him a lot of drills and they seemed to have fun experiencing an American type workout.
8:30 PM First pub meal and more importantly first Guinness. There is much truth to the rumor that it is much better over here. None of that strong and bitter after taste, just Irish goodness. Then we pick up two Irish lassies and head home.
10:30 PM Who can guess the false statement in the above entry? So my host and I go to see his buddy Mel (alone). Mel owns a B&B (very prevalent on the Emerald Isle) and collects beautiful and pricey furniture. He is also the only guy in Ireland who doesn't drink. We have an amazing "chat" about life, love and the pursuit of happiness, which he feels socialists (including Obama-be real he's a socialist) ruin that pursuit of happiness. Interestingly, not all Europeans are socialist leaning.
"ONE TRILLION DOLLARS FOR SOCIALIZED MEDICINE IS AWESOME!!"
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
DAY 2
We're pretty sure the Haggertys used to be Hegartys
7:00 am International Traveler Mistake #2 – Never urinate on low end of urine wall. For those not familiar with European urinals, you basically urinate on a wall and the urine flows to one side and out. Just like in battle, men, secure the high ground. If not, the stench of your urine mixing with everyone else’s urine is not pleasant.
8:00 am Shannon airport is very rinky-dink and takes a while to get bags. Met a band of blue grass singers from Louisiana. May see them perform if path’s cross. Bus to Limerick City is interesting. We are on the skinniest roads I have ever seen. At some points both sides have shrubbery running right to the edge of the road and up to the top of the bus.
9:00 am HISTORY ALERT - Limerick City lies on the River Shannon and was the Viking stronghold in Ireland in the 8th and 9th century. Also, the city, King John’s castle in particular, was the last holdout for the Jacobiites (sided with Catholic King James-Irish and French forces) verses the Protestant Williamites (sided with William and Mary -that William and Mary) in the late 17th century. After their defeat, almost all the Irish and French forces went back to France. The French army contained Irish troops, known as Wild Geese, until Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo in 1815. That is why some French wines have Irish names. Saw the legendary treaty stone, where it is claimed the peace treaty for this war was signed. Also, some very neat churches including the oldest building in Ireland still being used for its original purpose, a church of Ireland cathedral.
Allegedly treaty to end the War of the Kings signed on this stone-Catholics lose
Here is King John's Castle - The last bastion of hope for the loser Catholics
12:30 Now for an Irish breakfast. Couldn't’t find anywhere to eat besides McD’s and BK, but I refused to have either one as my first meal in Ireland. Bacon, sausage, fried tomato and mushrooms, poached egg, scones, toast and some hash brown type thingee (IRISH POTATOES!). It was enough to feed two, maybe three people (I did finish it). The lady looked at me like I had three heads when I said I wanted sweet tea. I actually enjoyed my piping hot tea, but only because it was a balmy 60 degrees and rainy. It was my first hot drink since thera-flu in 2002. I like my ladies hot, but my drinks cold. While on the subject, road signs are as rare as khaki shorts here (basically all I packed), but if a “parking deck” is coming up 7 signs will notify you of its existence. Also, my lack of trendiness makes me stick out more than cousin Vinny in Alabama. “yeah, I blend!”
2:00 International Traveler Mistake #3- Unable to get used to habit of looking right before crossing the street. This could be the most detrimental of all the traveler mistakes.
2:30 Took wrong turn to bus depot and ended up in what appeared to be the slum of Limerick City, but not as easy to tell as the states. Still, strong signs- drunk people in the afternoon, people hanging out on porches and a shady exchange of money by two men on the corner. Would have walked more briskly but I was lugging the largest suitcase known to man. Would later find out that Limerick City is known as Stab City for its rash of gang violence.
3:30 International Traveler Mistake #4- Unable to use pay phone. Nice lady at the bus depot calls my ride for me and now it will be a five hour bus tour of the Emerald Isle. Within one mile of the cities you are back to sheep, horses and cows grazing.
4:30 Northface black and blue. Pretend I just smacked you in the arm twice. Silly Americans and their conformist clothing. I later realize they were probably Irish, as the jackets are very popular here. It’s like a sorority meeting in 2000 here, everyone has their northface jacket.
9:30 What I thought would be five hours turned into a six hour bus ride, after which the guy I'm supposed to meet, whom I've never met, appears to NOT be at the station. Surely, the this Indian looking guy next to me with a suitcase can't be him, but after 15 minutes of waiting I ask him, "Surely you aren't here to pick up a Shaun?" He says, "No and quit calling me Shirley." Finally my ride shows up. I learn the Irish are notoriously late, so my father and I can claim a genetic dispensation. I meet my host who is a nice guy firing F bombs like he's a part of a verbal shock and awe and I am some poor Iraqi village. Apparently the F word is just a regular old adjective here and the even have feck when the what a watered down F bomb. But enough about F bombs. We watch some soccer news, I have my first beer in Ireland. It was ....drum roll...a...wait for it...Miller Genuine Draft. We call it a night and I go to sleep in my single bed with puppy dog sheets.
City street in Limerick
First Irish sign I've seen - I wonder what a "Pompy Wody" is
Monday, August 10, 2009
DAY 1
11:20 am – Waiting at airport. Worst feeling. With my severe propensity to forget everything, I am very concerned I am forgetting an essential item. This worry is about uncalled for, since the only essential items are the big 3 – ID, passport and ticket vouchers. I have checked that I have all of those 7 times. I now know what it is like to have terrets. Also, I am standby for this whole trip and this Tampa to NYC flight is a pretty full. Kelly said to bring candy to the gate agents, but there wasn’t any at the casa. Was going to offer a fresh cucumber from the Haggerty garden, but was overruled that this was both sketchy and ridiculous.
1:05 pm – Made it on the flight. This blog is sponsored by Jet Blue, so here is my quick testimonial. You get 40 TV channels, the greatest snack ever (Doritos Munchy Mix) and amazingly nice and competent flight attendants, including one Kelly Haggerty. Just watched terrible movie about a reporter named Veronica Gueran. Based on a true story, she was a reporter in Dublin murdered by Irish gang lords for uncovering a bunch of Irish drug dealers. All the Irish girls in the movie were pretty, so that means all the girls in Ireland are pretty, right? For the record, Las Vegas is a great show. According to Jason, I watched the last episode of season 5, which is a movie unto itself, absolutely phenomanal.
2:15 pm Bags start to come down carousel
2:30 pm All bags are gone from carousel.
2:35 pm In a near panic, I even leave airport to investigate bags of fellow passengers waiting at curb.
2:40 pm Still no bag at carousel
2:42 pm BAG ARRIVES – Its absence would have put a huge damper on my ability to then catch a flight to Ireland.
3:00 pm Conduct phone interview with Gulf High School in New Port Richey, FL. They have a boy’s varsity coaching position, but not a teaching position. Probably a big waste of time. I am fairly certain they will hire an unqualified woman for the job.
4:00 pm Rookie International Traveler Mistake #1 – Did not sign passport.
4:30 pm Eating PBJ for dinner – Total cost of trip so far – ZERO EUROS.
5:40 pm First interaction with a new culture on the trip. Some Arabian family (not ashamed to admit I prayed they were not on my flight) was of course flagged for a security check. After her full cavity search I saw her sign her passport (ROOKIE!!!) and she signed it RIGHT TO LEFT! What the heck. You hear that’s how they do things, but it’s still weird to see. Also, giant pooh bear would not fit through x-ray machine until it was vicously stuffed through.
6:00 pm Boarding flight for Shannon. The flight attendants outfits are awesome. They are bright green and made of the material your grandma always wears. Seats in plane are all bright green.
8:00 pm E.S.T / 1 am Irish time Set clock ahead to trick myself into being tired. Not effective, but did finally sleep for last three or four hours of flight. The airplane has XM stations and I fall asleep listening to a station called High Kings. I learn later this is the name of a famous group of trobeduers. The song that I especially remember and heard five times before, during and after nodding off is called “Galway to Graceland.” It is about a woman who leaves her husband to go meet Elvis. She even is removed from the cemetery and arrested when her now deceased “King” is dead. The line that sticks in my head the whole trip is: “She went from Galway to Graceland to be with the king.” The song is so awesome it please listen to it on the below link. A great pub song is first and the Galway song is at the three minute mark.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kuaf6vMhGbo
1:05 pm – Made it on the flight. This blog is sponsored by Jet Blue, so here is my quick testimonial. You get 40 TV channels, the greatest snack ever (Doritos Munchy Mix) and amazingly nice and competent flight attendants, including one Kelly Haggerty. Just watched terrible movie about a reporter named Veronica Gueran. Based on a true story, she was a reporter in Dublin murdered by Irish gang lords for uncovering a bunch of Irish drug dealers. All the Irish girls in the movie were pretty, so that means all the girls in Ireland are pretty, right? For the record, Las Vegas is a great show. According to Jason, I watched the last episode of season 5, which is a movie unto itself, absolutely phenomanal.
2:15 pm Bags start to come down carousel
2:30 pm All bags are gone from carousel.
2:35 pm In a near panic, I even leave airport to investigate bags of fellow passengers waiting at curb.
2:40 pm Still no bag at carousel
2:42 pm BAG ARRIVES – Its absence would have put a huge damper on my ability to then catch a flight to Ireland.
3:00 pm Conduct phone interview with Gulf High School in New Port Richey, FL. They have a boy’s varsity coaching position, but not a teaching position. Probably a big waste of time. I am fairly certain they will hire an unqualified woman for the job.
4:00 pm Rookie International Traveler Mistake #1 – Did not sign passport.
4:30 pm Eating PBJ for dinner – Total cost of trip so far – ZERO EUROS.
5:40 pm First interaction with a new culture on the trip. Some Arabian family (not ashamed to admit I prayed they were not on my flight) was of course flagged for a security check. After her full cavity search I saw her sign her passport (ROOKIE!!!) and she signed it RIGHT TO LEFT! What the heck. You hear that’s how they do things, but it’s still weird to see. Also, giant pooh bear would not fit through x-ray machine until it was vicously stuffed through.
6:00 pm Boarding flight for Shannon. The flight attendants outfits are awesome. They are bright green and made of the material your grandma always wears. Seats in plane are all bright green.
8:00 pm E.S.T / 1 am Irish time Set clock ahead to trick myself into being tired. Not effective, but did finally sleep for last three or four hours of flight. The airplane has XM stations and I fall asleep listening to a station called High Kings. I learn later this is the name of a famous group of trobeduers. The song that I especially remember and heard five times before, during and after nodding off is called “Galway to Graceland.” It is about a woman who leaves her husband to go meet Elvis. She even is removed from the cemetery and arrested when her now deceased “King” is dead. The line that sticks in my head the whole trip is: “She went from Galway to Graceland to be with the king.” The song is so awesome it please listen to it on the below link. A great pub song is first and the Galway song is at the three minute mark.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kuaf6vMhGbo
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Summer of International Shaun
Hope you will enjoy the simple musings of a simple man. Since I love telling stories, often embellished (but it’s funnier that way) this blog will usually just entail the wild and wacky life that is me.
To start though I will do a day by day account of the Irish adventure of July 2009. It will include many pictures of the beautiful island and some brilliant insight into the Irish culture. Please forgive me, but just like any conversation involving myself, the topics change quickly and severely, thus the title of the blog Tiger Town TANGENTS. A segue is merely a moped like thing and nothing more to me. Hope you can handle it.
Most pictures will be of churches...
or castles...
or the beautiful countryside
When I first found I would be able to take this trip I was uber excited. I would talk to people and about a minute into the conversation, I would say, “Yeah, that’s great. Guess where I am going this summer?” I have never been out of the country except for a day in Nassau and a day on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. So, I am quite the rookie as I travel globally. Because of this, as the day drew closer those feelings of excitement were slowly replaced with some trepidation. I usually don’t worry about too much, but I had a feeling of something going terribly wrong. Like losing my passport and being denied entrance back into the country. This still may happen, but hopefully not and definitely not worth worrying about.
As most of you know, I have seen much of this great nation and have often said there is so much to see here before you go off and spend tons of money seeing the rest of the world. But, except for San Diego, Hawaii, Alaska and skiing in the Rockies (I guess that still is a long list), I’ve done most of what I want to do in the states. Plus, it will be very interesting and exciting to experience a new culture. And as anyone who has ever looked at me can attest I have a lot of Irish blood in me. I have many of the Irish traits: a love of potatoes, a love of booze, a love of the fiddle, a fiery temper, the love of good story telling and the love of leprechauns.
I spent some time trying to formulate a family tree, with not too much success. My family is pretty sure, like millions of other Irish immigrants, both the Haggertys and the Brennans came over during the famine in 1848ish. After that, the tree is missing a few branches until I pick up my grandparent’s grandparents. Not a big window there, but enough to ruin any genealogy research.
Anyway, I am excited to see the culture. I have the feeling these are really my kind of people. From what I have gathered and the few Irish folk I have met, they seem to be a fun people who just like to hang out, tell stories and of course drink. Hopefully they are as friendly and hospitable as their reputation.
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