Dear Blogger.com,

You have a "javascript void error" message appearing on my page. I would like to thank you for letting me know the particulars of the problem, however in the future could you do one thing for me?

Fix it.

Oh, I don't actually mean that. It isn't that big of an issue. I don't really care all that much. I am, however, chuckling a bit at the fact that the message is there in the first place. You see, it might as well say "bake at 450 degrees", "PC Load Letter", or "Coalition Government" as none of them make any sense to me either.

Thank you for your effort though. I do really appreciate it.

In closing, I was simply wanting to add a new widget thingy to the side bar. I hope I get to soon.

--b

**i've taken the widget off this post because it was screwing up the count on my couchsurfing profile page. not to worry, the one in the side bar here will remain and is working just fine. thanks for everyone who has visited here. cheers, .. --b jan 14, 2009

Calgary, Day 1

So, this should have been posted (not to mention written) on Dec 4th as that was the day I actually got to Calgary from Banff (a post called Banff, Day 1 should have been posted [not to mention written] on Dec 2nd, but we'll talk more about that later).

The bus was quick and painless, as was my meeting a new friend. I did not have to know that she had come from Vancouver that morning, some eight hours ago, to know she was stir crazy and hungry for conversation. I was simply hungry and gladly accepted he offer of a clementine while she talked my ear off about nothing and everything.

There's not much of a story to be told as there wasn't much conversation being had. She was middle aged, married and full of small talk. I smiled, adding words like "yes" and "oh yeah?" whenever I could, which wasn't too often as she had been on the bus for eight hours and a me smiling and eating a clementine.

Janelle picked me up from the bus station, and there's no real story their either. After a hug and a chat we hurried off to see if the car was still parked in the space she was holding for the fire truck, should there have happen to be an emergency. It was a good idea since she was so close to the fire hydrant.

I have a feeling they would have appreciated it.

After spending most of the night trying to decide when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other, we decided that it was a some summers evening some three years ago in some back yard of some other friend, who's name is Steph, where we listened to other friends talk about mortgages and leases and some other things that were as much out of our league now as they were then.

Laura came home later, from parent teacher interviews, and we had another good laugh over when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other.

A quick search through me email inbox later would find that Janelle and I had last written each other in oh-six.

We went out for wings, which turned into nacho's and a burger, which, come to think of it, was never going to be wings in the first place, at a pub just up the road from their house, which was conveniently located just up the road from the pub. The server hit on the girls, which we were all very happy about because the girls wanted an in when it comes to patio season and I was very scared that he might have been hitting me. By the end of the evening he had stolen my glasses, called Laura a pretentious beach, asked which one was my girlfriend and still, somehow, we thought of him as a friend.

If you happen past the Ship and Anchor on 17th Ave in Calgary say hello to Kevin for me. Well, use Janelle or Laura's name just in case we were wrong about him.

Yellowknife, Day 1

So I arrived in Yellowknife last night. Leaving Calgary the pilot said getting into edmonton we'd see weather a little better than where were presently where, however failed to mention, let alone warn, the sorts of things we'd feel landing in the great white north.

Welcome to Thirty below, the chill through my nostrils said.
Too bad I never got around to finding that tissue earlier, I replied.
The cold of the north just laughed and said "you South-Western-Ontarians are all the same".

Mary and I, Mary being my aunt and youngest sister of my Dad's, had trail mix, Keiths and several hours of conversation. She got up for work this morning, I searched the house for Claw, the dog of a friends whom she is, and subsequently I am, babysitting, because 11:30, when I woke up, was high time he was let out to the back door.

**whistle**
Claw!
**whistle whistle**
ummm .. claw.

Back upstairs I trudge, fearing the worst and knowing I'd be the one cleaning it up.

hey claw, where are you little guy? I asked the upstairs, as if it, or the dog, could have answered me.

He was tucked into Mary's bed, snuggled into the mess of sheets.

Oh my, I thought. This is not going to be good.

hey claw, how are y-
BIRD!

As I stood in the room making the mess I had feared to find as a result of the Claw, I reflected on a few things: why the dog had replied, why Mary had not made her bed before going off to work and why Mary was not at work but starring back at me from a mess of hair and a splitting headache.

We cleaned up my mess, made some coffee and let the dog out so he could pee on the kitchen and livingroom floor.

Jasper, Day 1

I am on a computer that make it ound like i've got a tuffed up noe. Ret aurred I am quite healthy, it i mearly the keyboard I am uing.

You ee, the "" key doe not work. I could be hitting "ctrl+v" to pate an "" but I can't be bothered right now.

beide, it might be fun to ee if anyone can actually read what I write.

That i if anyone i reading at all.

Japer i beautiful and I am tired. There' been a great deal of hiking and walking and meeting of people, o much that I may need a vacation from thi vacation.

I can undertand why a peron could pend a lot of time here. there' mountian everywhere I look, elk every other block (or at leat a few reminent left by the elk) and floppy eared touque on every head. I'd pot ome picture of the area, except that I haven't taken any yet.

We went out lat night, which wa fun. My host went back to the place we were taying early and I tayed out which wa a good idea until I realized, long after cell phone had been turned off, that I didn't know where thi place wa that I wa uppoed to be taying.

I had, though, made ome friend who where more than happy to give me their couch for the evening; although that didn't change the fact that my ride tomorrow didn't know where i wa, not to meantion that tomorrow morning I would be jut a lot a I wa the night before.

Never have I been a lot a I wa lat night. In any other place I had been I had at leat looked at a map or learned the name of the main treet. I had been riding around in a car for the weekend, ever ince I'd arrived, and not paying attention at all to any direction. Even when I had been driving.

o thi morning I cleaned up my bedroom Rosco' living room and tepped out the door and choe a direction. All I could think about wa hoping my ride wa looking for me.

And then, out of nowhere, or eamingly nowhere, came a familiar little black ford. I had been found and wa going to be alright.

ince then I've got myelf a map and learned the addre of the place I am taying.

At the end of it, however, I had made ome great friend.

Edmonton, Day 1

Nothing much to be said about the city of edmonton. I drove into, and around, the city on thursday, and adventured a little. although the only real adventuring i did was to follow the main arteries of traffic and try to remember which direction south was.

also, trying to remember what the car I was driving looked like. something i didn't think about needing to remember until I stepped out of a shop that afternoon.

I had been picking up a trimmer, you see it was time to tame my beardness, which promted a few smart remarks from fellow shoppers.

"hmm." smiled a mom at the counter, behind me in line. "i don't need to ask who that's all for" making reference to the shaving kit I had assembled.

in the end i did find the car, luckily enough for the panic button, which scared the heck out of a young couple loading up christmas gifts in their trunk in the car next to the one who's alarm I had just set off.

I hid just out of site until they had moved on. boy was my face red.

(I've been in Jasper for the weekend, but more about that a little later)

I did not find any oiler fans to talk to.

Wild Rose Country

The good news is there is an unlocked internet network that i've tapped into. the bad news is i am hungry and don't know edmonton in the least bit.

i have been given my hosts care for the day as she goes off and makes money to buy things. i don't know how it is she has entrusted me with her manual shift car in a city i've been in for just over twelve hours without my glasses.

perhaps it was the bottle of wine she drank last night.

my flight was alright, as flights go. in recent history i have grown to loath airports, planes and attendents; they smelled, poluted and wouldn't give me all the coffee i could drink.

"sir, i would fill your cup up again if you'd just hold the cup still"
"I DON'T TELL HOW TO YOU DO YOUR JOB SO YOU'LL SURE AS HECK BETTER NOT TELL ME TO LIVE MINE" was my usual reply, delivered with more gusto than grammar.

However, yesterday I flew out of Hamilton International Airport and my, let me tell you about a delightful experience. First off the port goes by the name "Hi", so right off the bat I felt at home.

"Is that wall greating me, Dad?"
"Yes son, that sort of thing happens in the big city"

I suppose they don't need to have "Airport" in the name because, likely, if you are going there, you know that it is an airport. In fact that's included as part of the directions on the website.

"Read that again to me, Bird"
"That's what it says: turn on to highway 6, it's the one that's the airport."
"Is that it?"
"That's a farm"
"There?"
"a school"
"and that?"
"that's the farm again"

and another thing, they have these nice gentlemen in orange shirt who helped use a computer to check in. i could pick my seat, i chose an isle because the windows were already taken, i didn't want a middle seat and the computer had already given me an isle. i remembered the map of the plane that i saw on the Orange Man's computer screen so that i would know where i was going later on.

**memorizing sounds**
hmm. turn left at the wing, young child should be two seats behind me. good. i think i've got it.
**/memorizing sounds**

of course when i got to the plane i'd've been better off just checking the ticket as i would have noticed that the planes was parked differently, the child was an old man and the wings where the cockpit.

never the less i found my real seat, all red in the face, from embarrassment not the hieniken, with the help of a friendly couple who's seats i was in.

i nearly finished my book too,.which, as it turns out, i'd finished several years ago. it felt good to blow through a novel though; made me feel smart.

All said and done, I had a great time flying. I had my usual anxiety about flying and traveling but that passed, as it always does, and i just watched things unfold around me.

I'm off to explore the city of edmonton, maybe find out what their tim's cups look like and maybe, just maybe, meet an oiler fan and find out what makes them tick (like I know anything about baseball).

Bound to be bound somewhere

Today is the day: I am back on the road. I fly tonight to sunny Edmonton, back in time two hours, the good kind of time travel not the bad kind that makes you sleep for three days after wards, this is the good kind that keeps a person up for three days after.

I'm gone for two weeks, doing some job hunting, soul searching and friendship formations. I plan to hit Edmonton, Jasper, Calgary and Banff and what ever else I can see along the way.

I'll leave you now with a little song by a little Candian artist that's been in my head for about a month now.

Cheers,

--bbb

Ca Va Cool

When I was in high school the internet was quite young. I didn't know much about it, I still know relatively little about it, and we didn't have access to it at the home farm until midway through my grade eleven year.

One of my classmates said to me one day, as they do from time to time while we weren't reading with our free-reading time,

"I don't know why anyone really gets the internet. You spend a week exploring around, finding new things and reading jokes and eventually you run out of things to do. Every time you log on it is the same stuff. I don't get it, I just don't get it."

I really had no idea if he was right, wrong or even speaking to me but what I think I do know now is that the internet has a lot more stuff.

( A person could say crap, however I enjoy using stuff because it isn't specifically good or bad, it merely suggests an abundance of material.)

Today I have the house to myself, since my roommates have either gone to work, school or doctors appointments, and now that I have finished the chores and ate my breakfast I've sat down and done a bit of inspirational searching. A quick recap of my last few weeks and my next few weeks goes a little along the lines of:

cleaned some house; harvested some corn; drove some tractor; booked some flight to and from edmonton; spoke with some friend; searched some couch; watched some high school and college sport.

Also, today I have drank and brewed some coffee, and not necessarily in that order.

With my inspirational search I intended to plan my upcoming airtrip and to get my creative synapses firing before I turned around and fired them.

I wandered around couchsurfing and found a member named 'elephantson' which I found to be a funny name but didn't know why. I punched it into my favourite search engine and, after a few adjustments, found a blog and then followed a link to another blog and laughed a bit and the word play title and how my sister, Mademoiselle Murray, would also find humour in it.

The internet is full of wonderful stuff. Take that reading buddy!

(Now I've got to clean the kitchen before my parents get home from the doctors office)

Dear Mom,

I am sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have been rather busy. And seeing as I am in the same house as you now I don't really find it necessary to have to write you to say hello.

In fact, I can just turn around and say hello. Which I think I will do. Right now.

Hi Mom!

You said hi back, chuckled and asked what it was I was doing.

Just writing to you, says I.

Oh that's nice. Don't forget to clean your room, I think it's what's making you cough.

Thanks Mom, and I will, blushes I. But I've really got to get back to writing to you mom.

Oh sure dear. Let me know when you're finished.

I will, not to worry.

I changed the layout a bit; just one of the ways I've kept myself. I've been following Dad around for a bit, helping out my uncles and pretending to be various types of farmers; chicken, dairy, pig, turkey, crop etc. I think I make a pretty good lil'buckaroo.

On top of that I've been dreaming up excuses to take off again. There is a list of places to go, at least ones that I've made a point of highlighting. The list has included London (Ont), Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and St. Johns, however I've started looking more west-ward for my next adventure. Perhaps Edmonton, or Calgary, or Jasper, or Banff.

Excuses for traveling aren't hard to come by, as there are so many places to go, and it has helped that I've reread some of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. The one I read first, actually it has just occurred to me that it is the only one I've reread since arriving home, is So Long and Thanks for all the Fish which features the series' main character, Arthur Dent, arriving back to planet earth, adjusting to life as it was before he left and, ultimately, leaving on another adventure.

Quite appropriate and unplanned and welcomed all rolled into one.

I'd also like to point out that that map thingy I have has reset itself and is currently showing little red spots, representing people, all over the map. This means that, by some odd, yet interesting, computer glitch, people are still coming to visit this site, even though I have arrived home, haven't written much at all, and, something that I thought I was quite sure of, you, my mother, were among the only people still reading. In fact, even though it might appear so by the recount of a conversation of ours above, you don't even know that I am writing now, because I made that all up.

I am not sure why, but I am glad they are there and I do hope that they make themselves known by way of a comment or two, just so's I know who and where they are. Of course if they are shy I would take an email too.

That's all for now, as you are calling Mands and I to the table to decorate the treat bags.

Until next time:

love, your son.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Hey You!

I had a pint of Bulmers at an ethnically confused pub the other day in St Small Town, Ontario. I was visiting a friend of mine, he works on a Dairy farm just outside of town, and he and his girlfriend took me out to O'Generic Pub.

They had thought that it was an English Pub with some bar-type stuff. However it was, in fact, a pub trying to be Irish but forgetting that Ireland doesn't have a Liverpool Underground.

There was Guinness on tap, Murphy's junk on the wall and a few Irish saying framed and flanking the bar stools.

The locals looked the part of a small town Ontario pub, all of whom wouldn't have stood a chance getting a drink at the divest of dives in any Irish village; least of all one that I was pulling pints at (that, if said live and in real life, would have been accompanied by an Anchor Man quote and something to do with being a big deal. Sarcasm doesn't ever work in emails, or any written communications for that matter, so I like to make sure it makes sense).

The point, and there is one, is that there was Bulmers on draft but they called it Magners, as they do in places that are not Ireland, and it tasted like piss, as it does in places that are not Ireland.

That did not, by the way, stop him and I from having a couple of pints each. It was the first outing I'd been on since getting home; I liked it, very much. Not the drinking part, but the being around people part, and the in a setting that resembled that feeling of home that I missed so very much part.

Part of that was also writing here. I've been sending a few emails to friends here at home, and been conversing with a few that are still traveling. Since I've been writing to them I feel like I should be writing to you. So, even though I said goodbye just a day or so ago, I may just post here periodically.

No promises, but I do like writing.

Fin

Farewell Salutmaman! You have served me well over this past year and 23 days.

Farewell Readers! Thank you very much for tuning in. I have enjoyed having you along during my travels.

I have arrived home to Dublin, Ontario after a long time on the road. Tonight I will fall asleep in my bed, my own bed and wake up in my house, my own house.

This will be the final entry for my Ireland trip. I will not be writing for this blog for a while. I don't know if any of the other girls will be writing for it anytime soon; everyone is either working or learning. For Mands and I this has been strictly a travel blog, so I think we'll keep it that way. I may keep writing, but I don't know where that will be. If you want to know you are welcome to ask and I may share it.

But that all depends on if I keep writing.

I am back in Dublin. No job just yet. Dad has plans involving new doors, some demolition and lots and lots of yard work.

A very special thank you to those of you who put me up over the past three weeks and for helping me with my reintegration into Canada. A very sincere apology to those of you I haven't visited with yet; I will be visiting with you very soon.

I have no plans. Not yet. None for work, residence, school, travels, money. Something will come up, but until then, tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

Contextual Clairfication

When I was in grade 12 I took part in a Dominican Republic experience trip. A small group of high school students, an English teacher and my priest left Toronto for the D.R. for ten days. Before we left we had months of preparation, learning a bit of Spanish (nothing that I remembered or used) and a general overview of what we might expect to see.

As much as we were shown and told none of us really appreciated what it was we were going to see or hear. I do not intend to paint a picture of the poverty we saw, even though having seen their way of life was shocking. Rather I want to draw on my what I went through, what we went through, coming home as I believe it parallels my arrival in Toronto.

I received a message that made me feel as if my statement "Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork" needed a bit of context for clarification.

You see, during the prep period for the D.R. trip we poured over photo's of trips gone before us, heard from the students whom the photo's belonged to, saw video after video and read story after story. They did all this work to get us into the right frame of mind so we could be ready for what we saw.

But that wasn't the hardest part.

The hardest part was coming home.

We had spent little over a week in an alien environment, but that week effected us, all of us, more than we had expected.

Everything was the same. Canada, Ontario, Stratford, my high school, my friends, my teachers, my coaches my everything.

It wasn't that we thought it would be, or wouldn't be; it was, simply, the same. I had changed without knowing it, and seeing everyone and everything I knew and loved exactly the same put into perspective how much I had changed.

I had loved every bit of my week long journey and I wanted everyone to have had experience it with me. I wanted to be able to look them all the eye and have them understand what it was I saw and did and share in my experience.

But no one did, at least not outside the group of students whom I traveled with.

Now, my arrival home from Cork wasn't as drastic as this one was, but several of the emotions and observations and experiences were related. I saw things differently, I saw Canadians differently, I saw our lifestyles differently. I had grown so accustomed to the Irish landscape that where I'd grown up, or rather the country I call home was foreign to me.

I didn't want it to be foreign, I wanted it to be home. I wanted to be home, that was where I thought I was going. Instead I ended up in a foreign land, alien landscape and a world I no longer knew. I should have felt comfortable, but I didn't.

In fact I didn't feel comfortable until I saw the Kid trotting down the stairs outside gate 5 at the Skydome. Seeing him was seeing home, and I knew I would start to feel better.

Where the story goes from here is much happier. I am adjusting slowly, with the help of all my friends whom I've met up with along my way to the home farm. I go to see my sisters today, this evening rather, and tomorrow to see one play volleyball.

I am looking forward to it, my family and adjusting to Canadian culture. It's been hard, but I am getting there.

I no longer want to be on the next plane back to Cork, but I do want to be on one sometime soon.

What Are You Doing Right Now?

Bird Morely is Deleting Facebook

settings>my account>deactivate account>confirm facebook account deactivation


Please let us know why you are deactivating (required)

I was going write a bit about how I got ride of my facething account. However, doing that, in a way, gives more power (through recognition) to the thing I was leaving and goes against the reasons I left.

The end of it is I no longer have the account. I am not trying to drop off the grid, or avoid anyone, or seek attention (well, maybe I am seeking a little attention) I was simply tired of the network and how lazy it was making me when it came to keeping up with friends.

Lazy? You ask. Well yes, lazy; and let me tell you why

Have you ever dropped in to see how a friend has been? Perhaps after you haven't seen them for a while. There usually a few minutes of general banter, then you tell some stories of where you're life is right now and then all things inevitably lead to nostalgic renditions of that ride home from school one day or that buck and doe where Joe stepped through the table and things are happy and grand and everyone laughs and such and such.

I like those conversations (I liked them enough to make a road trip out of it visiting buddies who lived on my route home) but occasionally I find those conversations inhibited, or sometimes replaced, by a few clicks of the mouse.

So let me ask you this: have you ever "dropped in on a friend" through facecrap, riffled through their photo's, wall posts, videos or notes? Perhaps not all of those at once but I can bet you've done it at least once (a day). Now, have you ever met up with that person a few days, or weeks later and got to talking, remembering and sharing about stories old and new only to discover that you already new the story, but didn't know why?

This is usually the point where a light comes on and your fingers snap and you say, without really knowing you're saying it: oh yeah, I think I saw that on myface.

It is at this point my cheeks would feel a bit warm and likely turn a deep red, but I don't know how you would react. I felt so guilty, like a voyeur, peeping tom a creep with a laptop and I had spied on this persons life.

did you hear that John and Helen broke up? that sue and tom got together? that Steve's cat had kittens?

Aside from the creeping around, which I didn't feel good about, I felt the communication was cold and impersonal. On a few occasions I'd find myself substituting a quick email to someone on their birthday for a "wall post".

(whoops, and I haven't even wished matty a happy birthday yet)

But no more! I have a birthday list started, and I hope to stay on top of it.

(Damn, I didn't wish Bizz a happy birthday either)

As long as I keep my trusty journal near me (or Laura Van Geel) I'll never miss another friends birthday (Andrew Thuss) again.

So I've left the social network known as Facebook. I will have to turn old school and write emails to people, text them my plans or even, heaven forbid, give them a ring. I hope you all remember my birthday, it's June 24th.

I'll leave you with a quote from a blog that I found a few months ago that got me thinking about this latest, and (hopefully) final goodbye to the social network that has swept our lives away. Take care, and I hope to see you all soon in real life.

--b

"Facebook is like a creepy and pointless videogame where people collect every person they've ever met, then waste their time spying on all the dumb bullshit they do all day. I don't care if some moron I went to high school with bought a new iPod, I don't want to play the vampire biting game, and I don't want people I don't care about to know what I'm up to if they're not going to bother asking me with words." Joe Mathlete

A Week or so

I need to be honest with all of you: I've been in the country for a week now. Well, a week and two days. I landed at 12:45 EST in Toronto, Ontario and proceeded to collect my luggage.

I meant to get in touch with you a lot sooner than this, but time and tide ran away from me and I was left standing at Term. 2 departure gates with a heavy pack and a heavy heart. I had been intending, for about a month before hand, to hike around South Western Ontario for a couple of weeks packing in as many friends and family as I could before coming to rest on the home farm.

There's been a lot that's happened. Let me fill you in as much as I can. Be patient though, this might take some time.

I landed, like I said, in Toronto and from there I took the TCC into the city centre (that's Irish for downtown). I had forgotten how friggin big Toronto was. It was big, bigger than I remembered and bigger than I was ready for. Cork had no sky rises, no fast moving foot traffic and no roads big enough to be a car park (I later learned that they were in fact car parks, I had simply mistaken them for motorways).

Toronto did not have my house, my pub or my coffee shop. It did not have my supermarket, my buskers or my pub and it certainly did not have my pub.

I was small, alone and tired of carrying my big, stupid pack around.

But as I sat watching all this unfold in front of me, all these buildings, tree's, cars, people, buses, beer ads, Canadian flags, library's, university campuses, cabs, gas stations and bike lanes, as I watched all this unfold I realized that in a year plus two days I haven't been in a better position. In all the traveling I've done, all the places I've been, I've never been in a place that could be easier to navigate.

Toronto is still a foreign city to me, don't get me wrong; I was raised on a pig farm and hadn't spent more than a few days in the city. Despite being foreign, however, it was still Canadian. I had jumped into cities and countries knowing nothing of the culture, language or currency and made it out the other end; most often with scarce few marks resulting.

I took a deep breath. I was going to be okay. This isn't as scary as it might appear to be.

Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork.

Rescue Inspiration

There once lived a boy who loved to write. Writing was everything he did and everything he wanted to do. It didn't so much matter that he may not have been much good, nor that he new how to spelt or that grammar wasn't the bestest of things of his, it mattered only that he did it and loved it and did it because he loved it.

Then one day an evil came along and took away Inspiration. It came without warning, or calling card or befriending me on facebook; nothing that would aid our young hero in the recovery of Inspiration. It came and went like a wisp of wind leaving him helpless; helpless and scared.

He continued to think thoughts, but they didn't amount to much. The thoughts thunked remained un-wrote, un-developed, un-recorded. For the longest time he wasn't even aware that Inspiration had been taken. It wasn't until he looked back upon his work to find that there was precious little work to look back upon.

It was at this moment that our young hero took it upon himself to search for Inspiration, to hunt down that evil with his vorpal blade. To rescue poor inspiration.

This is the story of that rescue.

Thank you, and welcome back.

Bird Arrives

[I didn't have the courage to write about my arrival at the airport because I didn't want to jinx our operation]

I arrived at Shannon Air at around four in the afternoon. I had spent most of the ride deep in my current book, another by Milan Kundera that, like the other other one i've read recently by him did not live up to the first book of his I read. Having been so deep in the book I misjudged how long I had been on the bus and realized just in time that the planes landing all around me and the sudden emptying of the bus was telling me that it was time to drop the book, my snacks and water bottle inside my pack, grab it and my umbrella and leap off the bus as it peeled out of the drop-down zone.

Had I have been wearing a hat I would have had to reach back and bring it through the bus doors as it would have fallen off.

I can't go anywhere without that hat. At least I couldn't had I have been wearing one.

I looked up at the signs above the doors and a thirty-something backpacker trundled past me with his pack and destination clearly organized.

"Nice one, Indiana" he mustered with a smirk.

thanks for noticing I thought to myself while I replied with a grin of my own.

Through the doors I went searching for my second visiting sister and her travel companion. I found them looking rather confused, but on the brink of discovery. I quietly flanked around and popped up next to Steve.

"You look like you could use some help"



[happy birthday Big Dan. welcome to north of 22]

Shannon Airport

They arrived at 13:25 and proceeded through customs, which, when you arrive in Ireland, is a hallway with a machine similar to the one that you put your bags through before you get on the plane to come to ireland except that this one is without proper lighting, staff to opporate it or the machine itself.

Guinness and Baileys bid you Failte (welcome) and you walk right out to the lovely older brother who is holding a sign and holding the keys to the newly rented Fiesta.

Except that the brother is still on the bus because he didn't set his alarm an hour and a half ahead of schedule and was thus on the bus an our later than intended.

Not to worry, they say. I'm sure he'll get here in a moment or two. We'll just look after the car.

you'd like a car
yes. will you be our driver?
pardon me?
stephen, don't be difficult
yes. we would like a car.
right so. you're over 25 then?
yes?
stephen...
no, i am not
right then, no bodder. that'll just be *clickity-clickity-click* an extra fifty euro a day

steve. steve, are you okay. [steve stands back up]
i'm sorry about that, i just thought you said an extra fifty euro a day
i did

hey you! stop doing that. [steve stands up again]
well Leanne, i think we'll just wait for Bird to show up.

the leanne and the steve

and so it begins. IreTrip '08.

We've one Fiesta, three suit cases, two siblings and an extra body.

We're set to venture about the island for the next ten days, but my day, my morning, started like most others.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack. snooze.

(ten mins)

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack. snooze.

(ten mins)

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack.

Then I sat on the edge of my bed thanking the snooze lord for setting my alarm thirty minutes ahead of my schedule for the day.

Luckily I had mustered up the intension to pack the night before. Unluckily I had ignored that intension and was now scurrying around my room tossing things into a bag.

three shirts. three socks. the pants i have on, the shorts laying right there. camera, computer, wallet, passport.

good. done. sorted. i'm out the door.

back in the door again. toothbrush, deoderant, umberella.

let's try this again.

back in the door. give Jade (matty's replacement in the house) the rent money.

right so. here we go.

good bye cork, see you in a week.

I know what you're going to ask

I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is yes.

I have been to see the new Star Wars: Clone Wars movie. It opened here and in most of Europe on August 15th and saw it just three days ago. And let me be the first to tell you

DO NOT GO AND SEE THIS MOVIE.

Sorry, I don't mean to sound so blunt or negative or agitated or frustrated or annoyed that I spent 5.50 and the better part of two hours (which was actually 98 mins) in a movie that made me feel like I was playing a video game, except that when I wanted to make the player jump off the cliff the controller I wasn't holding on the game system I don't own,let along play, anyways wasn't letting me.

Much to my delight someone at the Globe and Mail agrees with me.

"With its cluttered, relatively rudimentary design, Star Wars: The Clone Wars could be easily mistaken for a demo from Lucasfilm's video-game department." Jason Anderson.

I came home from my lunch shift and said over and over again that we should all rush out the door and go and watch the new star wars film. That day, no one wanted to. The next day I went by myself and was very grateful that I did.

I don't know if I would actually say "don't go see this movie", but I will say don't bother seeing it on the big screen. It is more than enough to see it at home with your star wars figures and your stuffed yoda doll and all those things that I don't have and don't wish I had.

Given the chance I would have seen it again because I do enjoy the films. But even given the chance again I would still likely had told you not to see the film because I still would not have enjoy it.

I would have owed Chris and Matt their ticket price because they both saw that the film would have been a flop.

Your were right, the both of you, Journey is far better than Star Wars and likely in more ways that one hundred and one.

What Would You Say

LeRoi Moore of the Dave Mathews Band died Tuesday from injuries he received during a four-wheeler accident back in June of this year? He died in hospital after being readmitted because of complications that had surfaced during his physiotherapy rehab (cbc.ca).

Like Ryan, I don't want to sound like some huge fan after Moore has passed away, but I do want to state that I really liked the music of DMB. Really liked it.

Like many others, my favourite of their songs is grey street. I should listen to i more often, everyday even, because every time I hear it I want to be better at playing the violin.

Of course it takes more than just saying it over and over again to make something like that happen.

I need to be taking lessons.

I wonder if Boyd gives lessons.

I have been thinking about a lot of things I would do when I get back to Canada, which, may I add, is (potentially) getting closer. There are a few ideas of adventures to go on but I have yet to organize them.

One involves France, Munich and Cork again at the end of October. Another involves Cork, Toronto and Seaforth, and another still involves some unknown destinations that I haven't even thought about yet. All, mind you, rely on my working a lot and getting paid more over the next four weeks; the next four weeks because that's just how much time I have left on my work visa.

When I figure out what i am doing come the middle of September, when my work visa ends and three month travel visa begins, I'll let you know.

Until then, lets listen to some really great jazz riffs from a talented musician who has left us.



LeRoi is the big guy with the sax and the backwards hat. The guy with the dreads is Boyd.

i learned

I learned that a short while ago I was reading and that I felt as though reading wasn't what I wanted to do right then.

Maybe it was I was bored with my book, maybe it was that I was all read out or maybe it was that I couldn't find my book anywhere despite having not looked at all.

Tomorrow I am going to Galway for three days. I have three days off in a row because there are new staff members coming on board and they need hours to learn how to take my job away from me.

also, i am not bitter. not at all.

In fact I'm not even bitter at all, it's just that sometimes bitter is funnier; although i am sure that what is written above isn't funny at all.

i should stop trying to be funny.

never the less i am going to Galway and visiting a friend. I am staying at her house because she has two empty bedrooms and because she lives in Galway. You might remember Janine from a past post but not really because I didn't name her by name. She was the entity in charge of making all the food for the day. She made a great mom away from home.

she also made a good kosher meal.

I don't really know what I am going to do while in Galway, but I'll tell you a bit about it when I get back.

Also what I'll tell you about is how I am slowly loosing a great deal of friends. Two people left a week ago and another a few days after that. Matty fly's out in a month and his parents are here visiting for a week which means I'm not going to see him. Chris is in France for a series of odd reasons and Connor my American bartending pal had his last work night tonight and will be on the eight o'clock bus to Dublin in ... two hours. Even my auzzie-roommate whom i don't want be around isn't around.

I need to learn how to find more friends, and fast.

Chinese Food

The thing about the thing is that recently I haven't been writing very much, about anything. And the thing about that is that I am really sorry.

Really.

I don't think i can apologize enough to make up for not having written anything in the past very long time. In fact, I am sure that if i was to apologize another time I would look a bit pathetic and desperate for your forgiveness; lord knows I don't want that.

So, I am sorry for looking pathetic and desperate.

So this one time, last night, we ordered Chinese. Matty picked it up on our walk back from the car which we had rented to drive around West Cork in yesterday. I know what you might be thinking and I assure you that the story that needs to be told involves the Chinese food and not the road trip and i'll do my best to make you understand that.

So on our road trip yesterday we sort of just drove around. Chris had a valid license so was the only one who could drive and therefore drove us all around all day. All of us included Matty, Jordan (new roommate from Brantford, Ontario) and myself. The four of us just drove around.

In saying that we had rented a car and just drove around I mean exactly that. You may think that

hey, you went to the trouble of taking a taxi out to the airport, filling out all the paper work with the lady at the desk only to find out that your license expired two months ago and you could no longer rent vehicles, let along drive them (only to know that the whole time you were hoping with all your heart to yourself the whole time the lady is filling out the paper work that she doesn't turn over the card and in the 100% chance that she will to look for the expiry date she will, somehow, have forgetton how to read dates written in numbers) and then have Chis step forward and put his license down and hope that she not realize that he wasn't over 25 and having gone through all that trouble perhaps you might have had a plan laid out for the day, a map with you or, at least, a lunch packed.

of course if you thought that you would be of perfectly sound mind and without the comprehension of the conversation that took place the night before.

IT went something like this:

chris: do you want another pint?
Bird: you know what, i'd like to rent a car tomorrow
Chris: me too.
Jordan: I'll have another pint
Matt: .... (he wasn't out because he was in bed because he was resting up to call in sick to work for his 11:30 shift at 10:30 because I was going to ask him to come along at 10:25. It was because he wasn't out that he had nothing to say.)

Now that you have a little idea of what our plans where you might have an idea how the day went; and if you picked "perfect" you would be absolutely right. With no plans made there were no plans to screw up. We saw more than what we set out to see (as we had set out to see nothing) and we had a better day than we would have watching the crap American television that Ireland gets for day time viewing (may I also note that we all get crap American television no matter where we are watching during the day, thus it is better to get out of the house and rent a car no matter where you are).

That night we got Chinese food from the place across the road from our house which I had never eaten at before. They give their food out in plastic reusable tubberware and not in those earth-hating styro-foam containers.

Now that, my friends, is news worthy material.

Socially Acceptable

Every morning and throughout the day, Andrea, Jacquie and I always ask each other, "Does anyone have to work tomorrow?" and of course, the answer is always no because we are all teachers and for the rest of our lives, throughout the summer, none of us have to work the next day.

If we are being a bit obnoxious on the street (which I never am of course, its mostly the other girls) one of us usually says "I can't wait to get back to New York" as if to give the impression that we are American and not Canadian. Ha.

None of us have to work tomorrow as we are going to Camden market which is apparently a fantastic market ("you dont even know" is what they tell me..) so im pretty pumped for that because of course, i feel as though i havent spent enough money in England so i'd like to spend more. Everything here is normal priced, if you lived in a country that was also on the pound, however, because I am using Canadian money, everything is twice as expensive. So, for example, a starbucks coffee is 2.65pounds which is normally priced, however, if you make the conversion the coffee actually costs more than 5$ Canadian so its pretty expensive.

I can't wait to get back to New York.

Being French

--bbb is so right.

I love being French.

There is something so amazing about sitting in a cafe with friends (or brother) and people watching or reading a good book. There is something so amazing about sitting in a park drinking wine, people watching and reading a book. There is also something so amazing about sitting beside the eiffel tower on a beautiful afternoon.

It's pretty great.

This summer I have had many opportunities to 'be french.' Even if I'm not in France, I am always looking for ways to be French. In England, Jacquie, Andrea and I all still sit on the same side of the table facing the street so we can people watch. This is something that they definitely do in France.
The other day we were eating an incredible english breakfast (complete with a cooked mushroom) and I turned the chairs around so we could face the street. That's about as French as you can get.

I swear the Queen is following me

I was at buckingham palace the other day (ha, how many people can say that right now?) and the Queen was in residence. They always fly a flag whenever she is in residence and so it is pretty easy to tell considering the flay is pretty big. Today, Jacquie and Andrea and I went on a tour to see Windsor Castle, the Roman Baths in Bath and the Stonehenge. The Queen was in residence at Windsor Castle and so I think she is following me.

She uses the Windsor castle apparently as her weekend/summer home. It was absolutely fantastic and impressive. My summer home is not nearly as extravagant and i certainly don't have as many people touring my house. Windsor castle is the oldest castle with occupants in it in Europe. Pretty amazing stuff.

my time is up on the internet and so i am forced to write more later.

I am spending the weekend in London and then heading to Ireland to visit --bbb on what will be my last week in Europe. After this, I am forced to get a real job.

number one

Mandy talks a lot about being french. It was all she could talk about while she was in Cork.

I can't wait to get to Paris and be french she'd say, spending all day being french is something i could totally do for just about forever.

And so we spent a great deal of time doing just that. We sat in cafe's and ordered espresso's and then moved about the city at a slow walking pace and found another cafe and ordered another cafe. Being French is so much easier on the head than being Irish, which is something I've been having a great deal more difficulty with of late (I started to digest what that means but it was getting too long and very much off topic. we'll save that one for another day). My point is that I much more enjoy being French because it involves books and coffee and observation and learning a new language.

Mandy and I were french and loving it. I was using the little fracais that I knew and she was smiling at every chance she got to speak to anyone in french.

My four year plan (which mandy was around for my laying out) now includes a stint spent in France. Perhaps not Paris as I don't think I'd have the money to live the extravagant life, but very much so France.

We'll talk more about that four year plan later which means i'll have to make a big list of things I need to do.

1. appologise to mandy for taking up one of her days on the blog post cycle. (done)
2. write about four year plan, being irish, and that whole entire list I put in yesterdays post. (TBA)
3. find a job for the fall as I will be dreadfully out of money.

Happy Birthday Leanne

Happy Birthday Leanne!!

and --b, you arent allowed to post on even days, you broke your own rule.

right now, i am in London, England settling in quite nicely> Jacquie, Andrea and I have been touring around all day and enjoying the sights.. and the food.

mandy

happy birthday sis

I am going to pre-empt mandy and put up a birthday post for leanne.

a very special birthday wish
to the little sis
who i miss
like a fish
does an ocean abyss

happy birthday



don't forget to watch the little guy, not the big guy.

welcome back cotter

i get that song in my head every once in a while. it makes me smile and chuckle and wonder how i missed that john travolta had a role in a television series when he was much younger.

i am back in cork, mandy is happily in London. She has sent me an update that she's on her way back to Cork (much the same way as a magnet finds the keys your four-year-old cousin buried in the backyard sand pit Cork is able to pull people back to it that have stayed longer than a week) in a weeks time (Monday week, as they say in Ireland).

that song was in my head as I sat down with my cup of tea and browsed the archives to find a couple of comments i had forgotten to reply to (a big thanks, by the way, to Shabu and Grant! Mandy and I love the comments). Perhaps it was my subconscience subtly bringing to mind my reluctance to record events of the past weeks, or perhaps it was the window i had open in youtube with the theme song to Cotter playing we'll never know; regardless, the song was in my head to stay. So, armed with no idea where this post is going to go, i have sat myself down and started clicking away.

i could talk about how mandy and i and jackie and andrea spent three days in Paris being, as mandy puts it, French. I could talk about the funny man who kicked us out of a restaurant because, as far as we could tell, we wanted to sit at a table, or i could talk about the Canadian family we met at a kabab place how turned out to be from St. Mary's (or at least the Mrs was from there. Dad, if you could, look up the name Van Fleet. That spelling is mine, not hers, and they now live in Brampton), or i could tell you about the wonderful friends we made and the places we slept.

I could and I can and I will but you will have to wait.

fireworked

what was fireworks two nights ago turned out to be a night on a terrace at a university where mandy had some friends staying last winter. we dropped by to see if they had any beds for the next night. sadly, the afternoon porter said, we do not. but i will let you pop up stairs to use the internet and search for other accommodation's.

we thanked him kindly and he smiled and said it wasn't a problem. he had a french accent and spoke french and all this was translated to me as we trotted up the stairs.

our internet search yielded very little; but what can one expect, really? gmail and myface don't post hostel availability. we just about settled into a proper search when James tapped mandy on the shoulder and sat down with his guitar. he solved our problem by offering his floor for as long as we needed it and invited us out to share some songs and wine and stories from north america.

we sat long into the night, that is until our friend the afternoon porter came to check on his little investment. we apologized and smiled and he warily returned it. you can imagine his worry when the two strangers he had given a passcard to had turned up missing and presumed wandering the halls. lucky for him we were nice people in the company of other nice people.

the fireworks were last night and included a song set from the famous James Blunt. He told us we were beautiful and that he was watching us breathing for the last time. Rather creepy as we don't know him all that well but I suppose that's karma returning the favour of us overstaying the Afternoon Porters welcome the day before.

Landed

Salut Maman, Salut Papa!

Moi e mandy arrive a Paris tu jour a say manufique!

Mandy will correct that sooner, rather than later.

So, we have landed and we're getting settled and sorting out where we're staying. we have a hostel booked and we've just got to find it.

tonight there are fireworks to see at the tour d'eiffel which we will go see; there are cafe's at the cafe which we will go drink; and there is french to be so we are going to be it.

i am learning multo frenchazie dopo arrive a paris. however, i am speaking tropo italiano and languaging up my mixes.

a biento,

the Gaelic Football Game

--b and I and others went to watch a Gaelic football game in Cork last Sunday. The game was the province final and county Cork was playing county Kerry. Gaelic Football is like soccer, football, and rugby with a couple of new rules. It is only played in Ireland. The game starts off with everyone singing the national anthem but everyone turns toward the score boards on either side of the field to sing. We got a standing spot behind one of the goals and that ended up being where the hard core fans where.
Cork was the underdog coming into the game and it was clear in the first half that Kerry was beating them. They were definitely outplaying them.
At the starting of the second half, Cork stepped it up a notch and scored a goal and started to make a comeback. The crowd was going crazy. Everyone was screaming and yelling and cheering. Cork eventually tied it up and then started winning and creating a gap in their favour. Cork ended up winning the game. It was so fantastic.
It poured all morning before the game and as soon as the game started, the rain stopped and at half time, it started pouring again and rained the entire half time and stopped raining during the second half and started raining and poured the rest of the day after the game. We were all soaked and my clothes took two days to dry.

the bus to Cork

I bought a student ticket to Cork. Even though I am not a student anymore, I managed to convince the guy working the ticket office that I was one and saved myself 4 euro. What a steal. I walked over to the spot where the bus was leaving for Cork and there was a bus there, door open but no bus driver. I asked a guy standing outside if this was the bus to Cork and he said it was. So, I got on the bus but no one was on it. I decided that I was pretty early (by a half hour) and that I would just wait until other people started to get on the bus. After a while, I noticed a line (a queue is what it is called here) forming outside of the bus. I decided that I couldn’t get off the bus now because then everyone would see me get off the bus and would know that I did not understand proper bus-getting-on etiquette. So, I stayed on the bus. After a while, a bus driver came on, noticed me there and I said that I was already on the bus. He then proceeded to ask me if I was going to Limerick, and I said no. He said that the bus I was on was going to Limerick and suggested every so nicely that I should get off the bus because the bus going to Cork was going to pull up in a couple of minutes. I was a little embarrassed.
I got off the bus and of course, there was an even bigger queue who all got to watch me get off and then watch the bus pull away. They all knew that I didn’t understand proper bus-getting-on etiquette.

Ridiculous.

Ireland

I got to Ireland two days ago to visit --b. I was up at 6am to catch my flight, arrived at the Dublin airport at 10am, got to the town centre around 1130 and took the bus to Cork and arrived at 5pm. It was a long day of travelling and it was finally good to put down my bags and to see my brother who I haven’t seen for over 10 months. As soon as I got here, we went out for a cheap pint. Apparently this one pub has happy hour all afternoon so we went there to chat and meet up with one of --b’s roommates Matty who he has known since university.
It’s really nice to be a little bit settled again and to see a familiar face again. Sean and I were travelling a lot and I find that moving around so much is sometimes hard on the system so it’s nice to relax a little bit in a house and catch up on my sleep. Also, because I toured around Ireland last year (I rented a car with 3 other Canadian girls—craziest thing i’ve ever done) I don’t feel pressured at all to tour around this time because I’ve seen everything I want to see in Ireland and so I can just relax and check out all the pubs and all different kinds of beer.

Venice

We stayed in Venice for 2 days and were lost pretty much the whole time. Venice is full of bridges and streets that aren’t named and canals that all look the same. There are tons of tourists and no vehicles so it creates a sense of calmness throughout the town. One day, we set out to see St Mark’s square. We gave ourselves all day to find this square. We knew where it was on our map and somehow we still ended up spending most of our time lost. However, we stopped for lunch for a couple of hours because we got into the wine. We started looking at the map more seriously and decided that the map was wrong, that we were actually in the right place and going in the right direction. I even said outloud “I think this map is wrong” and didn’t give it a second thought. The map was wrong and bridges that were supposed to be in the spots where we were according to the map weren’t there in real life.. neither of us considered that we were on the wrong island but chalked it up to the map being wrong. After a little while of nothing making sense, we finally asked a couple where we were and they told us we had somehow made it to a completely different island and that was why nothing was making sense. That was why on the map it said there were bridges and in real life there weren’t any because we were on the wrong island. After that, Sean and I finally got on the right island, saw St. Mark’s square. What a ridiculous day.
Venice is absolutely gorgeous. The canals and the bridges are beautiful. The buildings are so old. Venice is also completely different then Florence so its good when you are travelling to see both cities because you get to compare them both.

Canada Day

a big old happy canada day everybody! i've been at work quite a bit lately, not mention getting ready for the arrival of my second guest. of course, few of you know that i, rather matty and i have had a first guest so perhaps i should explain that.

bid dan came to visit. there are more stories, that will be told in a day or so (and for salutmaman time that means perhaps a week, but likely longer) and you will enjoy them very much. he was with us for about five days i think.

moving onwards today is the day that mandy will be arriving in cork. Currently she is en route from Dublin where she landed earlier this morning and is likely to get in around half four. She msg'd me and said perhaps two-thirty but, if she's anything like the common sparro-

african or european?
shut up you. what does it even matter?
well, i'm not sure really. but i feel you should be specific about references you leave. do you think anyone really got that one from 1993 you left in the last post?

right so. if she's anything like the common sparrow she'd never be able to carry her luggage that far and in the time needed to make the ten o'clock bus to Cork. The one at noon would work much better with her schedule.

you mean to tell me she's going to carry her luggage with her talons all the way fr-
don't you have a "best of monty python" to be filming?
was that today?

happy canada day everyone!

Florence

The past couple of weeks, Sean and I have been travelling and visiting Paris, Venice and Florence. We spent a week in Paris and then a week in Italy, spending 2 days in Venice and then 4 days in Florence. While we were in Florence, we did a couple of tours, one being a wine tour and the other being a hike. The wine tour was of an area in Italy called the Chianti. It is between Florence and La Sienna and is really pretty. Sean and I learned how to properly drink and smell wine. We also visited a cute little town up on a hill in the Chianti where we had a great view of Tuscany and the Chianti area.
The hike that we did was in an area called Cinque Terre. It is on the east coast of Italy and is absolutely gorgeous. This hike is through 5 little towns that are built on cliffs near the water. Sean and I did the whole hike and were really tired at the end of it. It is a 9km hike but half of the time you are climbing sharp inclines. It was absolutely gorgeous. We woke up at 6am and got home around 12:30am so it was a long day but well worth it.
One day, we spent touring around Florence and went to see Michelangelo’s David (which was amazing) the statue is huge. We also climbed the duomo (which is the dome of the cathedrale in Florence). There were 463 stairs or something like that and we were up pretty high. We also walked around the city a little bit and enjoying the little piazzas that you randomly come across.

happy birthday

bradley, happy birthday buddy.. see you in a week.

oh my beardness

so, i was browsing some friends photo's and found this doozy. i had forgotten how ridiculous it looked. somewhat of a change from the me that is typing today.

those in the photo are, from left to right, an american girl whom i don't remember and have no way of finding out who she is. her, for lack of a better word through lack of understanding the situation, friend and her were in town, Palermo, Sicily, because her friend was a singer in a band that consisted of just him and an orchestra and some opera music which was performed in an opera theater. in fact, come to think of it, I don't think he was a band at all.

his voice made me think of some archvillan in some comic book series who could knock down entire villages just by hitting a low g note. he was not a particularly
evil looking person, in fact he resembled a very tall and thin version of a stork; a stork that wore a suit and had a people face arms for wings and legs for legs. also, he looked more like human version of Lurch Adams than a stork. He sang in Italian and rocked the house and then left us, never to meet again.

to her left, our right, is Jodi the folk singer. to her left is her best friend Rachel whom neither new the either would be in Sicily, let alone Palermo, let alone the same restaurant one evening in May. I was there and wasn't really too sure what all the screaming and crying and shouting and hugging was all about until the two of them settled down. Jodi was the first to settle because she was the only one to not have had an emotional spike comparable to when Tim Murphy was blown back off the T-Rex fence in the Jurassic Park. She explained that she had been at a village close the city with family on the past week and so or hadn't speak english, at all. I forgave her and she continued, her english coming back in leaps and bounds.

By this time, however, Rachel had come back to us and could form words again. sentences where a bit much just yet, but at least her communication was recognizable. The two had tried and tried to make their plans compatible but had abandoned all hope when the whole project appeared futile. Yet, only when they had given up completely had their plans worked out better than they ever could have.

Next to Rachel in the photo is the one girl who's name i can't remember. I feel even more terrible about it because she is the one who entertained me the most. She was traveling with Rachel and was friends with Jodi as well. The three of them went to school in Wash DC, USA and had been studying (I think Jodi did too) in Florence for the past four months. The four of us spent an afternoon at a small village somewhere just outside of Palermo and took some great photo's together. She-who-cannot-be-named was able to ascertain my love of taking photo's of other photographers without my talking about it. This might have been because i was also either asking the to take photo's for me (you see, my camera had broke a month previous) or because i kept grabbing for their camera and asking them after. Never the less, i need to find out her name. I feel a bit like Tom Tucker (anchorman for the Quahog Channel 5 News) asking for that girl he met last night at the sky lounge. I assure you this is not the case, I just feel bad that I remember everyone else in the photo.

Next is Valentina, from Sicily, Italy. Her mother is an America from Boston I believe, which means she loves to here stories from North America. She hosted Jodi for the one day she stayed in Palermo. Valentina is also a friend of a guy I stayed with near Verona with Grayson; you might remember that day better as the day i hitched from one place to another.

the last, and not least, is ... well, that's me and all my bearded glory. i kept it for a week or so once i got back to Ireland but it soon came off when people at work told me just how much older it made me look. there are some photo's of my last night at the pub before i left for italy, one particularly when i am up on a stool giving a farewell speech(it wasn't so much as speech as it was a photo opp). With myself standing next to the computer on which said photo is shown one of the regulars, one who came in to the pub one night completely locked and out of his mind drunk and I had refused because I didn't recognize him as he had recently shaved his beard, told me that it added ten years.

Not that age makes that much of deal to me, and not that i feel like i am thirty-five, thirty-six tomorrow, but I did go home a shave the old boy off.

I do miss him though, Finn at work told me I looked tougher with it.

edit: jodi was studying in London, England; not Florence, Italy.
edit: Carolina. she-who-could-not-be-named has been re-named Carolina, thanks to Rachel. Thank you very much.
edit: also, she had a really cool shirt.

paris

it is so great to get back into paris.

i met sean at the airport on tues morn and we have been touring around paris and being french since then. we have perfected sitting in cafes, drinking by the seine and seeing the eiffel tower. tomorrow we are going to venice for the day and then going to florence for a few days.

your francophone, mandy

the wonderful

so as much as buying un-gum made for a bad day, the rest of sweden had nothing to do with the negative. that particular day cannot be reprsented by the post i left on it, in fact that story is the only bad thing that happened and in all seriousness (oh my goodness, you know i am being serious now since i've made a point of saying it) it really wasn't all that negative anyways.

i imagine i intended it to be a humorous anticdote, which you likely understood and didn't need me to spell it out for you.

hmmm. I do believe that that is the case and next time I will give you, the reader, more credit and not have to walk you through my thoughts.

with that thought cleared up, lets move on to another one: the graduation.

i don't know about you, but i've been to a graduation or two. Four actually, and that's just the one's for myself where I somehow managed to convince the powers that be that I deserved credit from them for having attended.

The first was preschool where I majored in finger painting in all prime colours. I never used this degree in elementary school, but it did give me a chance to explore my creative side. I don't remember much of the ceremony and i think it was because my buddy ryan had slipped something into my bottle.

The second was from grade eight. I was awarded the "Most Christian-Like Student" award, or rather would have had someone remembered that it was an award and given it to me. I was given a nice envelope though, and in it was a nice certificate which looked nice on my wall.

The third was high school and the forth was university. Both big, welcome surprises.

The point is that the four ceremonies were very similar and traditional and exactly what you'd expect, or at least exactly what I would have expected a graduation to be because what happens at them is pretty much what happens at all grads everywhere. Parents come, teachers talk, awards are given, ties are worn, hats are tossed and photos are taken.

Standard, right?

So Victoria, our Swedish friend, has this little brother. His name is Christian and he is in a heavy metal band (which we went to see and who were rather good). The reason myself, matty, nolan, sara and chris packed up our bags and flew to Sweden for 5 days was because we were invited to the graduation.

Wow, I thought. "A graduation, how cool. I love those things", I said out loud to Matty, "all those people wearing nice clothes and giving speeches and throwing hats. But I don't have a tie to wear or an award to give. I suppose I could bring my award from elementary school and give it to her brother, but I don't think i'd have enough room in my carry-on for it."

"You're pretty dumb, and I don't think he'd get the joke" replied Matty "and I don't think you have to worry about the tie-to-wear bit because i asked Vic the very same thing and she told me not to worry about it because it's not that sort of ceremony."

He was right. Instead of square topped hats they had sailor caps and instead of speeches they had a parade. Instead of certificates they had a giant photo of themself as a baby and instead of parents taking photo's they had parents and family and friends and grandmothers and tourists taking photo's. On their sailor cap was written their name and year of graduation.

The parade wound it's way through the city centre and ended up in a park. As the graduates walked on by they were singing and jumping and bombarded by well wishers with hugs and kisses and gifts of roses and stuffed bears and tiny champagne bottles that hung round their necks on blue and yellow lanyards.

When the parade had disappeared round the corner momma and papa brodenson, victoria's parents, took off down the street parallel to the route, and not alone either. every other parent that had been near us was bustling along to get to the best spot to see their graduate again.

the parade gathered at it's end in a park where bustling parents and family and friends and tourists searched through the sea of Swedes for the big baby picture that their graduate was carrying. Christian was with the rest of his band sharing a laugh with his friends Sir Eric, second guitar in the band, and Spider Pig, a fellow Swedish graduate. I knew these where their names because this is what was stitched into their Sailor Cap along with 2008, the year of their graduation.

We went back to the Brodenson household afterward and ate sandwhich cake and juggled for the little cousins.

Christian enjoyed his "most Christian like student" award I gave him or rather he would have had I have given it to him not to mention had thought of it when I was in Sweden and not just now seated at my computer.

the good, the bad and the expensive

i am in stockholm, sweden and i've been here for three days. this is the last day of my sweden visit and i fly to Dublin this evening. I am likely working again tomorrow night which is good because they pay me.

it is also good because sweden is so damn expensive.

just yesterday i was leaving the hostel to meet up with some friends of a friend. I went to pick up a pack of gum because the onions i had microwaved were lingering. not only is that embarrassing and uncomfortable when in a group, it was a terrible reminder of how little research i did into the hostel i was staying at. A bitter taste that shouted:

hey, why didn't you check if they had a stove top on site before you went out and bought pasta, chickpeas, onions, tomatoes, rosemary and olive oil?

I ignored myself and went about my way. Shops are all over the place and i went into the first one and waited in line. It was boring and at that moment I wanted so much more to be bored while on the subway to meet the friends of a friend. But here i was bored in line with a bad taste in my mouth not wanting to ease my boredom with conversation because that would be embarrassing and uncomfortable for all.

blah blah blah said the attendant. It will be helpful to know that I looked Swedish
I handed him the Extra pack I had plucked from the front display. I smiled.
blah blah he said again and I handed him 20 krons and he handed me my change.
"Tack" said I, to maintain the charade. Thanks.

As I walked out the door to search for the nearest subway entrance I opened my gum and popped a piece in my mouth. I noticed two things: he had only given my 5 krons back and I had not bought gum. Apparently Extra also makes a black liquorish candy and puts it in the same packet.

I enjoy black liquorish, but not when I was expecting gum. The bad taste prevailed and I had spent too much to get it.

every trip has it's low points. one low point over nine months isn't so bad.

leaving..

Good bye Dijon, HELLLLOOOOOOOO Paris...........

Last day of school

Friday was my last day of school.

I am officially a teacher (if you would like to get me a gift, i only accept cheques)

I leave Dijon on Monday to go to Paris to start my travelling.

I will be eventually be meeting up with --b where we will both try really hard not to kill each other while we travel and hopefully work in France together..

since I wasnt allowed to post on Heathers birthday, i will say Happy Birthday to Heather today... its more of a belated happy birthday.

your franco, Mandy

and so it is

June is a very special month for the Murray family because so very many of us, nearly half actually, celebrate our birthdays.

Today is Heather's birthday and she enters that magical target market of twenty something. That age where you graduate university, travel the world, (hypothetically) find your first of four careers, quit it, start the second and prepare to quit it, and (hypothetically) move out of your parents house for the fourth and final time.

Let's remember that those last two are hypothetical and everyone moves at their own pace.

Good luck with your pace Heavier, and make sure to keep a reasonable pace tonight.

Today is Victoria's younger brother's graduation party. Sweden (by the way I have been in Sweden for three days now) is lovely and reminds me, and the other four Canadian's with me, of Canada because it has lots of tree's, lakes and signs telling you that there is a high chance of a deer, moose or elk crossing out in front of you.

Lots of love,

--bbb

Flying

Yesterday, I went flying.

in an airplane.

One of the English teachers at the school that I work at's husband took me flying yesterday in his airplane. Its a 4 seater and so quite small and some would say scary but I say awesome.

We flew over the region of Bourgogne in France (which i think is burgundy in english, but i could be wrong)

It was awesome.

The airport itself was quite an interesting experience. Because Roger (I call him Rog) is well known at this airport (which is on a military base) we didnt have to go thru security or anything. There was a French woman running the ground control wearing a very tight short skirt and an orange reflecter jacket and heels. Her job was to tell us when it was okay to take off. Now, im not sure if it was just this particular day that she decided to wear heels or if she wears heels every day but it didnt seem very practical (or smart for that matter) for her to be wearing these heels. I felt sorry for her because she looked so awkward trying to do her job properly.

Anyways, the flying part was so great. We werent able to see the Swiss alps because it was too cloudy but was still pretty great.

your franco

my age

I am going to tell you a story that is both embarrasing and funny. The story is too god not to tell even though I will be the one and only person who will be embarrased.

The other day, Jenn and I were getting our lunch in the cafeteria, as we had done every day before then and continued to do until we both stopped working there.

In the caf, Jenn is in their computer system but I am not. I think its because I arrived a bit later and no one bothered to put me into the system. It doesnt really matter though because our meals are free but I guess they do it just to keep track of how much we eat. Normally, they check what Jenn gets and put it in the system but they dont bother checking to see what I get to eat because they cant be bothered to put me into the system. they know that we are both language assistants. Its always the same lady working the cash and she and I just smile at each other and I go eat my fantastic lunch (which is the highlight of my day every day)

This particular day, the one that was really embarrasing, there was a different lady working the cash and apparently she was unaware of the "smile and i go eat my lunch" routine. Now, before I could explain anything, the lady working the cash told me that i was only allowed to take 3 items (they consider them desserts, but i consider them apple sauce, yogurt and fruit and not desserts) and I had taken 4.. (i was hungry and i dont get to eat again until 9pm and this is just awful in Mandy world) I explained that I was a language assistant and I didnt know about this rule.. and she asked me if i was in the system and i said "non" and then finally the normal cash lady came over and we smiled at each other and i went to eat my fantastic lunch.

that is not the embarrasing part.

We were explaining what had happended to another teacher and he had said that the younger students who are in grade 4-8 are only allowed to take 3 items. SO, it seems that this cash lady thought I was in grade 8. Im 25.

People normally think that I look younger than I am but not that young.. whenever I am out with my sisters, people usually think that at least 2 of them are older than me but really, im the oldest (and i may or may not be the shortest..)

I was so embarrased.

your franco, Mandy

its my birthday

i know it is not my day to post but i give myself permission because its my birthday and i think its within my rights.

Happy Unbirthday (BONNE unANNIVERSAIRE) to the rest of you.

your francophone, Mandy

THE french meal

On Saturday, I went to Salins-des-bains with an English teacher from the school that I work at and her husband. This town is about an hour away from Dijon and we were going to her friends place for lunch. I was looking forward to it because it was going to get me out of Dijon and i was not looking forward to it because eating a true French meal is extremely stressful. It is stressful for a number of reasons, all of which I will talk about in this post.
Stress #1 Meeting new French people in general
Whenever you meet a new French person, they always do a bisoux, which is a kiss on either cheek. You might be thinking that this cannot possibly be a very stressful situation. WRONG. First of all, as an Anglophone, bisoux are foreign to me. Also: having someone up in your grill takes some getting used to. Also: i have just come to realize that if you are female and you are giving a bisou to a male, you start on the left cheek. I learned this on Saturday. (im not sure what happens when a female gives a bisoux to a female.. i have yet to figure that one out) BUT: before Saturday, i had no idea that females were supposed to start on the left and im sure i have been doing it wrong and offended French people everywhere.
Stress #2 The apperatif
French people usually have an alcoholic drink before the meal. This is also stressful because you have to make sure you a) do not start drinking before anyone else (been there, done that, got the weird look) b) you drink JUST as fast but NOT faster than anyone else (you should keep your eye on the other females, do not go sip for sip with the males) and c) you do not finish your drink too early so that they offer you another one because normally the drinks are either 1° too strong or 2° not yummy.
Stress #3 Snacking before the meal
Along with the apperatif, French people also have little nibbly snack foods before the meal. Because i am normally famished by the time we eat (we eat dinner at 830 or 9 and by then ive already been hungry for about 3 hours..) i really have to watch myself because its rude if you snack TOO much or take TOO much food at one time.
Stress #4 The bread
During the actual meal when you are finally sitting down to eat, there is always bread available (which you have to take because all French people bread with every meal) The bread is not supposed to be put on your plate. You are supposed to put the bread on the table. This took me a good solid week to notice that during meals at my host familys house, I was the only one who put my bread on my plate.
Stress #5 The cutlery
You have to pay attention to the other guests to make sure you are using the same forks from the same spots at the same time as they are. Once you pick up the cutlery you aren’t supposed to put it on the table, you are supposed to put it on your plate.
Stress #6 The conversation
This is the most stressful because as a foreigner, you need to make sure you pay attention to everything that is said throughout the entire meal. You cannot tune anything out. When you are sitting at a table and people are speaking your first language, you can zone in and out on conversation but your mind is usually aware of what is being said and if asked a question, you can answer it easily because you were kind of but kind of not listening. This does not work the same way if you are working in a different language. You have to be 100% on your game 100% of the time. You cannot let anything go by that you do not understand because of course, as fate would have it, a French person will ask you a question about the one word that you did not understand and you will have to say uhhhhh, comment? ( uhhhh, What?) And have a blank look on your face like you weren’t paying attention. I have done this many a times and its not fun because then you look like someone who doesn’t care about what is being discussed.. So, I have gotten into the habit of never letting anything go by that I do not understand and this has worked very well because a) you no longer look like an idiot and b) you learn new vocabulary.
So, now you can see why these French dinners, while very nice, are also very stressful.
I got into the car at the end of the lunch (which took 2.5hrs) with a huge headache.

Your francophone, Mandy

Read

With Mands back writing on salutmaman I need to be more aware of the space I am using. Much like picking my socks up off the floor, which i rarely do anyways, I have had another look at the junk I've had in the column for the duration of my stay. I had a chat with myself the other day about this sort of thing and discovered, much to both our surprise, that it turned out to be a constructive conversation.

However, neither of us can remember what it was we said to myself so I cannot share with you what happened. Regardless, the book list has been moved to an undisclosed location that you can find on your own if you are motivated, knowledgeable on the location of my blogger profile or if, in the very unlikely case (which would trump any of the above circumstances), you care at all what I've read while being on the road.

what has happened, and something i am very excited about, is i've finally taken a bite out of my on deck reading list. I mentioned this a few days ago so i won't talk about it again. What did I miss, however, was the link to the young woman who traded me the book. She is writing her travel blog at letsgothere-italia. follow this link.

Used book shops are a new favourite place for me to browse through. I can hang out for hours, picking through the selection and people watching those people picking through the selection. The other day, however, I was in the shop on my way to work which I was likely late for, either that or just eager to sit and read over a coffee before getting to work, and I asked for a bit of help. I was looking for a particular author, Kundera, but couldn't find him because i didn't know his name; I only knew he had wrote Unbearable Lightness of Being.

I was holding a book by Alex Garland, author of The Beach which I had found quickly and quite by accident. But attendant Jane knew his name and where to find one and making a point to point out I "was really branching out with my authors." I smiled at her sarcasm while Dad's bit about sarcasm being the mer babbling of a diseased mind reverberated through mine.

"any suggestions?" I asked, knowing she would. Not just because she worked a book store but because she had read Lightness and thus I respected her opinion.
"have you read zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?" I hadn't but vaguely remembered at some point having told Dad that he should read it. "i think we even have one."

They did. So I put down Garland's novel, "Kundera is a better writer; at least in my opinion," and since I respect that I now have three books on the go.

Oh woe is me.

I am going to go read.

Murphy's Law

"i hate morphine” says alan
“you what?” says i
“i hate morphine” says alan again. “the man of the law. he always say the lane you are not in moves faster. Morphie is such a jerk for being right.”

traffic was moving very slow as our trek back to Cork began early that morning. We were set to be in Dublin by noon, however the que for the motorway was out to prove our scheduling wrong. nevertheless we were kept occupied with discussions of the difficulties of learning new languages and being misunderstood when using words like fork, sheet and beach.

“i have to write this down”
“why? are you writing a book?”
“not that i know of. and i am just writing it down because i think it is funny. do you mind if i write it down?”
“i don't give two sheets. do what you like”
“i won't be able to write that down though.”
“sure you can. only do not tell your maman it was me.”

we got back into cork about half an hour late for my shift at the Shel (by the way i am back working at the Shel part time) which wasn't a problem. As Alan sped along the motorway I said there wasn't any sense in getting a ticket he wasn't going to pay because "it wasn't like i was late for a wedding or an exam, it was only work and work would be there regardless of how many cars we passed". The patrons had much to raz me for when i got there, but a few cleverly passed quips about cutting them off had them in stitches and moved the conversation quickly to an overview of my road trip and finnaly settle on the weather.