Pursuitist
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness
Meet Up in Waterford!
Waterford City. It was a bit of an unconventional choice for my Irish first trip beyond Dublin City Limits, but I was traveling with the Dublin History Meet Up group. I was just along for the ride.It was my first event with the group and I was a bit hesitant starting off with an overnight stay. I haven’t yet had a bad experience with a Meet Up group though; a change in that trend would have to wait!We arrived in an absolute mist of an Irish day. Grey, cool (not cold), and a heavy drizzle that wouldn’t let up until we were ready to leave. After checking-in to the hotel, we gathered for the first of four tours. With this being the history group, I could shamelessly geek out on all kinds of Viking and Medieval things (with a group who could appreciate a good geeking-out!).
You Gotta Be Tough to Get Old
Geez… getting old sucks. The worst part? It never gets better.I've recently been self-diagnosed with a case of plantar fasciitis. Recent meaning three months ago. Still no running. Still "healing."I check online for the “prognosis.” Just keep off your feet and in 90% of all cases, it’ll be gone in a year. A year?! A YEAR?!? That’s just stupid. I don’t have time for that. Age gives a whole new meaning to the term “walking it off,” in that you don’t just “walk it off.” I mean, you’d have to be able to walk, right?!This is the first time in my life I’ve been afflicted with the dreaded injury. It never really felt like the sharp needles through my heels so many liken it to. For me it was more like a dull, persistent pain on the back of my foot. Until I tried to start running at least.
Wheelin’ and Dealin’
Within the span of a week, I became the proud owner of a guitar and a bike. Total spent: €130. I rule.Both of them came via DoneDeal, Ireland’s answer to Craigslist. I was glad to see the shadiness factor remained universal.The guitar: Y’know, I hadn’t touched a guitar in about a year. The two(!) I had back in Austin did an excellent job of collecting dust while looking fashionably chic in the corner of my room. When I got to Dublin, a switch flipped and I just had to play and sing. Seriously. Just so inspired! I was looking up chords before I even found the guitar!As for the guitar I bought, look, it is what it is. I’ll never play the O2 with it, but I wouldn’t say that limitation stems from the quality of the instrument. For 50 quid, it’s perfect.
Paddy's Day! In Dublin!
Paddy's Day.In Dublin.Whaaaat?!It started off as most weekend days in Dublin do: hazy and hungover. Brian made me stay out at the club way later than I wanted. I showered, donned my finest green, then got out the door by lunchtime.I by-passed the parade because, well, I'm not a parade person. Instead, I was headed to Croke Park, home of the GAA Club Championships for hurling and Gaelic football. Two more sports that I knew absolutely nothing about and I loved every minute of them!The stadium greeted me with a line to end all lines wrapping through the suburban neighborhood. C'mon, I don't have time for this! I was already late because stupid Brian made me stay out late. Stupid.
A Visit to Bono's House
Did you know Bono is from Ireland? It's true!In fact, he lives just down the coast near Dalkey. Bono, Bono, Bono... That's all we heard on our day-trip to the area around his (new) home town. The Irish love Bono. That's not a stereotype. That's truth!Brian, his two friends from school, and I jumped on the DART for the mini-excursion. It was my first time outside of Dublin. I was excited to hike through the distant hills that gaze through my window.[caption id="attachment_1745" align="aligncenter" width="500"]
The Irish coast. You can (almost) see Bono's house from here![/caption]
The Irish coast. You can (almost) see Bono's house from here![/caption]
Answering Ireland's Call
Our arrival date in Dublin coincided with the start of the Six Nations Rugby Championship. It was the ultimate in answering Ireland's Call.I didn't know what the Six Nations Cup was at the time. Heck, I don't think I'd ever watched a full rugby match to tell you the truth. I've now watched five rugby matches, all of them as an Ireland fan. The Boys in Green won four of them. They also walked away with the 2014 Championship. A convenient time to become a fan!
Happy Paddy's Day!
Happy Paddy's Day! Not Patty, PaDDy. The Irish absolutely lose their minds if you call it Patty's Day. "It's Saint Patrick, not Patricia!"Seriously, this sign was posted in the Dublin airport:There's also a website dedicated to the cause. And a Twitter account. And (multiple) Facebook groups.So, happy St. Patrick's Day! And don't mess it up!
C'mon Ireland!
Serbia v Ireland.It was a meaningless soccer friendly played by two teams who wouldn't be going to the World Cup. A group of us from the office got tickets and decided to treat it like... well, like a meaningless soccer friendly. That's not a bad thing!First thing's first: a trip to Carroll's. Carroll's is the "leading retailer of quality Irish gifts." They're on every streetcorner in Dublin and seem to play a large role in the Irish economy. If it's green and made in China, you'll probably find it at Carroll's. The boys and I spent about 7 quid per person and exited the store as the true fans we were supposed to be. I went with the glittering leprechaun look.
Home Away from Home: The Pub
Dublin has a way of making it feel as if the entire city is out on a Friday or Saturday night. Pubs fill shoulder to shoulder with conversation and "coziness" as it's affectionately called. Even as everyone plays a game of human Tetris, there always seems to be room for one more.Step outside and the streets are teeming with even more people headed to the next night spot. The sounds of heels and laughter echo off the tightly packed walls of the winding streets. In Dublin, there always seems to be one more bar you can visit.Thankfully, I've managed to have already found my local pub (or did it find me); the Swan, a proper old-world pub. The mosaic floor leads to a beautifully crafted wooden bar. I'm usually able to find a seat close to the taps, where Rolan, the barkeep, tells stories of the bar's history. His father, Sean Lynch, founded the bar when not representing the British and Irish Lions in international rugby. His hall of fame bust is in the corner.
Now Listen Here
Watch yourself Chad.I see that glimmer in your eye. The extra kick in your step. The way you bounce out of bed in the morning, excited to greet the day.I remember you telling me about being young in Berlin, how you would curse the night knowing that it brought the wasted hours of sleep. It wasn't uncommon that tears would gather while you laid in bed you said, knowing that one more day was gone.You're getting that feeling again, aren't you. Muted in its intensity, as all things are with age, but it's there. You're falling in love with Dublin.
Our Dub, Your Valentine
I didn't have a clue.The relics of St. Valentine are in here in Dublin, resting in a church not more than 600 meters from my apartment. Really.With mass at the Whitefriar Street Carmelite Church beginning at 3:00pm, I slipped out of work for a really late lunch. Bread and wine anyone?The church was surprisingly full for a Friday afternoon. A line of about 20 stretched out from the right transept, leading to the Shrine of St. Valentine. I joined the line feeling somewhat like a pilgrim, having come so many thousands of miles to reach this destination. Pilgrims, the original tourists?
DUBLIN! GAH! DUBLIN IRELAND! ZOMG!!!@!@!!
It didn’t hit me until Sunday night, my first night in Dublin. I was crossing a street after a run, trying to avoid the cars which seemed to dart out of every direction but the “correct” one, when I realized, “This is my home. I live here. Wow…!”The travels were fairly easy and uneventful--nothing wrong with that! I arrived at my apartment in mid-morning with the bells of St. Patrick’s Cathedral serenading me from across the street. I couldn’t help but step out on my balcony to enjoy the free concert, then prop the window open as I finished unpacking.A quick run along the River Liffey kept my energy up in the mid-day, then I was out about for a quick walk through my new neighborhood. Just beyond my door are streets teeming with shops and pubs and people speaking all sorts of different languages.
See You Soon, Dublin.
This is happening.I keep telling myself that but it hasn’t really sunk in. Work is sending me to Dublin on a three to six month assignment. Dublin, Ireland.Details have come at a frustratingly slow pace. I’m not stressed though, surprisingly. Instead of getting wrapped up in things I can’t control, I’m going to sit back and let the fates direct me where they may.So what do we know:I’m headed over there with my colleague Brian and couldn’t image a better co-worker to have on the journey. We were supposed to be roommates, but now we’ll have our own places. We’ll be there for three to six months, depending on the project and how everyone is feeling about the situation.
Searching for My Pot of Gold in Dublin
Dublin is a grey, lonely town. There, I said it.I know I speak blasphemy about a place so many love, but you won't get me to change my stance. At least not about the grey part.As for the lonely part, I don't know. Maybe it's that I had just left a nest of friends back in Germany. Maybe it was the pressure of yet another job interview. Maybe it was traveling alone while trying (and failing) to not think about Holly. Maybe it was the fact that no matter where you drink it, Guinness just isn't very good. Whatever it was, it sure got me lonely.I hadn't planned to visit Ireland on this trip, but the promise of a job interview persuaded me to alter my schedule. Despite my best intentions, I slummed it hostel-style, staying in Isaacs Hostel. I thought I was well beyond the point of sharing bunk beds with nine other snoring strangers. Turns out my wallet would beg to differ. Hostel life minimizes "alone-time," though does little to combat loneliness.