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.