Last night in Dublin. I have to be up in four hours to catch my plane to Krakow. I wandered around the city a bit today. When I moved to the Kinlay House hostel, I met an english/history teacher from central Ireland. He took me on a walk of Dublin and I listened to a brief history of Ireland, it's independence, and the whatnot. It was actually pretty interesting walking through Dublin sights with a Irishman. We got a couple of our hostelmates, one from Israel and one from Italy together and met up at Brogan's Pub down the street. Thing was, I went to the Octagon Bar, owned by U2's Bono, for some food. But after 8pm, they only serve 'cured meats'. I did have a couple of pints, courtesy of my lovely friend, Yadira, back in the states. I did a lot of people watching and observed the bartenders racing around fixing mojitos and other Clarence hotel classic cocktails.
Ah, the point is, I was two pints to the wind when I met the other hostelers for a couple of pints. After Brogan's, we went to a place called Cafe Seine (as in Paris) off of Grafton Street. (Grafton is a very fancy shopping area with the likes of Louis Vuitton and so forth, it's beautifully lit at night, like a movie set). I went to the toilet at the crowded club and when I escaped, everyone was gone. As I made my way out, an Irish guy scolded me for 'pushing' too much. This only aggravated me further and I sure as heck pushed even harder until I was free on the streets of Dublin. Nothing but foreigners left in Temple Bar. I stopped at a burger/hot dog stand and refused to pay 4 Euros for a burger. Instead, I called Shilpa out of the blue and shouted at people on the street. No one paid attention. So here I am, back at the hostel, tappa tapping away at the keyboard at 2 am. Mmm, someone's making toast in the kitchen even though it's supposed to be closed. I'm going to go release my feet from my stank shoes and sleep for three hours. When I awake, it's a race to Poland.
Hopefully, I'll have better adventures to share. Wait, wait... let me share some excerpts from poems and things the english/history teacher had when I tried to explain how socially inept I am:
'Putting on a face, to meet the faces that you meet.
Polite meaningless word.
One may smile and smile, and be a villain.
Those are daggers in men's smiles.
Labels: Ireland
I've kind of lost track of what day it is. I find that this is pretty easy to do when you've thrown all sense of routine out of your life. Today, I'm going to seek out more Irish 'culture' at the Jameson Distillery. I also have to change hostels as the one I'm in is booked for the weekend. I'm hoping the new one doesn't have a slimy shower floor. That's right, slimy! It's gross. The drain is super slow so soap scum and pubes just kind of sit on the floor waiting to welcome your feet. Too graphic? Welcome to hosteling.
I'm also planning to recruit someone to accompany me through Temple Bar my last night here. Still looking for Bono and still haven't actually stepped foot into a pub. At least I'm saving money that way.
Saturday morning, I have an early flight to Krakow, Poland. (No Belfast this time, J&C) A whole new currency and language to deal with. See ya!
Labels: Ireland
I walked through Temple Bar last night to do a little people watching. I thought about checking out this club to listen to music but nothing seemed to be going on while it was still free to get in so I moved on. There are about 6 million pubs in Dublin but I didn't really feel like going into any of them without a partner in crime. Nor could I bring myself to approach people on the streets (though I'm always on alert for opportunities). I even returned to the hostel to recruit some revelers but people were either asleep or too young and French (that wasn't a crack against the French, just a rant at the French high school kids that took over the hostel and made the hallways smell like moist body odor... and they wouldn't shut up til 1 in the morning).
What I did find on the streets were a couple of very beautiful girls walking in the opposite direction. One was this kind of French looking girl, dark hair up in a pony tail, with this bewildered look in her eyes as she took in all of the sights and sounds of Temple Bar. After I saw her, I actually stopped and stood in an alley running through un-creepy ways to approach her and her friends. That's the difference between a 5 and 10-minute fancy (I use the word fancy instead of crush because the word crush bugs a British friend), no snappy pick-up line or daydream fantasy. Just a moment of being stunned and helpless.
It happened again on the way back to the hostel. A girl was walking right towards me. She wore this sort of, I don't know how you'd describe it, sort of a newsboy cap, and had shoulder length light brown hair. She resembled Jessica Alba a bit but wasn't as movie-star skinny. I stared right at her, drinking it all in and she looked right at me and smiled. Problem was, I did one of those smiles back that aren't really smiles. It feels like my facial muscles have done enough to create a smile but it's really just my lips stretched wider with no curvature. We went our opposite ways and I just kept thinking, show teeth next time, you idiot.
Attempted Smile,
Tony
I got lost through Dublin today, trying to find the Guinness Storehouse where tourists can discover the history of Guinness stout and how it's made. You end the tour with the option of learning how to pour the perfect pint, complete with a certificate that says you did so. Corny but it killed a couple of hours. I did also try Guinness Foreign Extra stout which has a 7.5% abv. Strong stuff that's not really sold in the states. As I floated out of the place, I accosted a couple of Americans from Washington D.C. We grabbed some lunch in Temple Bar and had a nice chat about life and travels. I often forget how old I am until I meet college aged travelers. I'm happy that so many young folk are taking the opportunity to wander. And I envy their free-for-all ability to party like it has no effect on the liver.
(While at Guinness, I scribbled the following into my Moleskine notebook): Chiming in from the Guinness Storehouse. I've sampled a pint and a half (and had the honor of pouring the perfect pint) of Guinness Draught and I'm almost through a bottle of Guinness Foreign Extra stout. And all I can think about is pretty girls. All I wonder about right now is who I will meet and be completely in love with. The brunette upstairs at the Gravity bar, from God knows what country, or the dirty blond {hair that is} who's drinking strong beer with her white-haired father. I can't wait. Someday the stars will align and I'll be on another love adventure. Watch out ladies!
Sorry mom, beer is part of the 'culture' here. I saw a church today, too. Bro, thanks again for the contribution, this tour of Guinness concludes your FeedTony.com virtual adventure.
Okay, okay, so I was freaking out a bit the last day or two. Hear me out, hear me out. It's one thing to say, hey, I'm going to quit my job of five years and travel around the world for eight months. But let me tell you, actually doing it is a whole other story. Let me remind people that a) I've never traveled anywhere for more than two weeks really b) I've always had a 'home' to return to c) I get miserably lonely sometimes.
That being said, it's been about three weeks. When you're traveling like I do, it means miles and miles (or kilometers and kilometers) of walking most days. Sweating, stinking, hunger, thirst, you name it. And I'm never staying in a private hotel room. I'm either trying to be inconspicuous at friend's homes or I'm staying in these, these hostels!
Hostel rant: Oh man, so I'm staying in my second hostel here in Dublin. Twelve people to a room, one bathroom. There's a couple sharing the bunk below me and they stole my pillow. Five or six of the people in my room snore. Someone's been coughing a lot and this morning the moment I dreaded had come- sickness. I had that awful sore throat you get right before a nasty cold. I sipped hot tea (and burnt my tongue!) in the kitchen this morning and it's feeling better. I wish I hadn't left my vitamins in Paris. The bathroom is nasty. I don't have 'shower' shoes. Actually I haven't showered yet. I'm going to wait til 3pm when the bathroom's been cleaned. Nor have I had my morning 'moment'. I really have to get over the fact that humans have to defecate and along with that comes plops and farts and wondrous sounds of the magical digestive system at work. And sometimes, at 7am, everyone's going to hear it regardless of how loud you believe the faucet is. I can't wait til the day when I can travel like a king, staying in hotels in fabulous places. But by then, I'll also being a working stiff. So for now, hostel-lujah to traveling like a stinky backpacker.
Where was I? Oh, no home. Whenever I'd traveled in the past, I always had a home to come back to with my own bedroom that smelled like sunflowers and honeybees (wha?), my OCD level clean bathroom, and my computer, TV, and whatever worthless doodads that give me comfort. On the bus the other day, I kept thinking about how I had completely closed up shop and now whatever made up that 'home' was spread across two cities in the US.
And the loneliness. Again, on another bus heading to another airport, I thought about how I had grown miserable and lonely in the states at times and here I was setting off on MY OWN to see the planet. I always had this mentality that I had to learn to be comfortable on my own before I could be comfortable being with someone else. At least that's what I'd tell myself to get through those quiet nights spent with cable TV. This journey was going to be a challenge. I was truly going to be forced to live with myself for a while. I'd meet people along the way but I'd never be anywhere long enough to have them available to me. At home, you've got family, coworkers, and the friends you can phone up (if they pick up) to hang out with. Right now that's gone.
I'm just giving you all an inside look at what's spinning through my head on this journey. I'll probably come cry on my blog now and then. Don't worry about it. Worse comes to worse, I'll just head home early (with a stop in Hawaii of course).
Labels: Ireland
I spent a good day walking the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Scotland from the castle to the palace. My favorite part of the day was hiking up Arthur's Seat, a volcanic mountain overlooking the city.
I didn't have much interaction with the locals (turns out they don't sound like Leprechauns afterall, it's the Irish that do... sorry) and I got a bit lonely so I phoned up anyone who may have been awake or just getting into work in California. I can't wait to see how much that cost me.
Today, I checked out of the Globetrotter Inn, a decent first time hostel experience, and rushed to the Museum of Scotland to see an exhibition called 20 Years of Pixar. When I got there I decided that I'd rather not spend 6£ ($12) to sort go back to work. (though I have recurring dreams where Disney hires me back... it's a little scary... am I yearning to return to the grind already?) Instead of seeing animation art, I rushed over to the National Gallery of Scotland to see some beautiful paintings by Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, and more. It was actually the most pleasant time I've had at an art museum in a while. I shot over to this sandwich joint on the Royal Mile called Fresco where I enjoyed another cheap sandwich, drink, and banana for £3.
Then it was off to Dublin. It was pouring rain when I got here and I missed the bus station and ended up walking around town for an hour and a half trying to find my hostel. When I found it, I also found Francesco, my new friend from Italy. We had a cheap dinner at some lousy chain called Abrekebabra. He's letting me use his laptop to bore you to death and let you know that I've made it to Ireland safely. I have no idea what there is to do here. But I'll sort it out.
