Out to the Wesht....

In spite of all the plans to take trips all over the country, we never really accomplished any of them. So the last weekend Kirstyanne would spend in Ireland, we had to put our money where our mouth was and actually get the hell out of Dublin.

mariekschen: where do you want to go?
Kirstyanne: Belfast. Northern Ireland has the best accent.

And then of course the Orange Order decide to go marching, so maybe Belfast wasn't the best place to be for a Scottish and a Dutch girl that weekend after all.... Because the hostels in Kilkenny were all booked up, we decided to try our luck in Galway combined with a little trip to Inis Mor (one of the Aran Islands, off the west coast of Ireland).

We left a rainy Dublin on Saturday morning and arrived in a sunny Galway later that day. Galway is a nice and pretty little city on Ireland's west coast with lots of colourful houses shops and pubs. Enough to see, eat, drink and listen to so.
on Sunday morning we took the ferry to Inis Mor and found the weather out there was even better. We had booked a hostel outside the little town with a magnificent view over Galway Bay and Connemara.

mariekschen: we'll just hire a bicycle
kirstyanne: are you kiddin' me on?
mariekschen: ehm no. That island is 13 miles long and I'm not walking.
kirstyanne: good point

The main modes of transport are bicycles and horse and trap. We opted for the bikes and cycled all over the island for the next two days, enjoying the great views, the silence and the sun.

Some pics for you to be jealous of... (I'll add more later)

Bliss.... Who needs the Caribbean anyway?

hello Mr rooster

ahoj! Is it far to America?

Am I going blind?

Or is it my fringe that is trying to tough my cheeks.

Dilemma of the day:
Will I be brave (and rich) enough to find a hairdresser here in Dublin or will I take my much needed haircut as an excuse to book a flight home and look up that Belgian gay punker full of piercings in Maastricht that did such a good job last time.....

Dilemma, dilemma.

My biggest fear of going to the hairdresser here is not just that they want you to pay 50 euro (yes, I'm serious) afterwards, but mostly that I will be sporting an equally rediculous hairstyle as many Irish girls. Me don't want that....

Buying a ticket home would ofcourse by far outstretch the cost of getting a haircut over here. But it would at the same time provide me with a chance to see my family and friends again and get out of this stinking city.

Too bad I don't have the money to do either.

Luckily my dad accidentally smuggled my mother's hairdressing scissors into the country in his handluggage (so much for security at Eindhoven airport). So maybe I'll find the courage to tackle the fringe myself one of these days.

The Bloomsday that wasn't

Friday was the 16th of June. Bloomsday. When I first came here I had a plan. Ofcourse, knowing me, I still haven't read the damn book. But I was looking forward to Bloomsay all the same. People dressed up as the characters in the book, re-enactments of scenes, readings, walks etc.
And then a former Taoiseach died. The state funeral was planned for Friday and al Bloomsday activities were cancelled. Karma.

So I guess I'll have another year to read Ulysses.....

Oh yeah, and then there was the world cup...

Thanks to my mother, who sent me some orange tops and feathers, We were able to watch the Dutch matches in style. Although the Irish like the Dutch, they don't usually like the color orange. We were therefore the only ones who actually dressed to the occasion in the pub. Rosemary decided we should go to Fagans for the Serbia match, because it's only down the road, they have a big screen, a beer garden, nice food and Bertie! Even though Bertie wasn't there and Colm actually forgot to bring his newly bought Holland Jersey, the other factors were present and we had a brilliant time. holland won and we spent all our money sitting outside in the beergarden in the sun all day long. Great stuff.

Kirstyanne, Rosemary and me at some stage after the match

Last Thursday it was finally time for the England - Trinidad and Tobago match. With the help of some arts and crafts, Iron-on-peel-off whatever prining paper and red tops, Kirstyanne and I had our very own T&T Jason Scotland tops.
Ah well, they lost the match but we had a good time anyway




Because everybody supports different teams (Any team except for England), there are more matches that have to be watched. In the Pub. So far the World Cup has left me broke, a little tired and slightly hungover. No difference with watching it at home, so.

And yet another hot day... this time at the beach

Thursday last week, Carmel and I took the DART south to Killiney to see if Bono was home. Unfortunately he wasn't (we did see Alli and the kids drive past). But the beautiful beach was indeed present. horray!
Killiney bay is probably the nicest bay in co. Dublin. No wonder all the celebs live there. It's a very nice escape from the city and very easy to get to, sicne the DART stops right on the beach.
Here are some nice views of the Dublin Rivierafor you....

On the beach... The big white house halfway up the hill is Bono's


Mariekschen and a nice view of Killiney Bay from Killiney Hill....


Here be Dolphins and such....


And yet another nice view from Killiney Hill....

A Gardenparty on a hot spring day.....

On Whitsun, Kirstyanne and I decided to go to the Gardenparty in the gardens of Ballinlough Castle in co. Westmeath.
As far as I know it was the first time they organised it and they did a really good job. There were giant butterflies and sunflowers on sticks, beanbags, chocolate strawberries, chamapagne, cocktails, a live re-enactment of the Rocky horror picture show and ofcourse lots of music. Class.

Welcome....


Farmreared Burgers....


The enchanted playground


The Unique selling point: An insect circus!


Oh yeah, and funny hats.... and me....

aha!

Oma, we hebben je fiets gevonden!

earlier today in the changing room at the gym...

Random 9 year old girl to other random 9 year old girl before the start of their swimming class: Oh jaisis me bleedin' fake tan is all over the place!

ehhh. right, so.

Furthermore, the weather has been absolutely gorgeous for the last two weeks and I have developed at least five different shades of REAL tan. More about that when I have uploaded my pics.

Ole-oh Trinidad Tobago

Yes, World Cup fever has hit Ireland too. Even though the boys in green will not be competing. A reason to drink however, is still a reason to drink. In lack of a team to support, the breakfast radio show Strawberry Alarmclock has decided to adopt a team. The criteria:
Underdog
Will have to play England (anyone who has to play England are friends of the Irish)

of course the obvious choice was Trinidad and Tobago. Complete with a song and a big party on the night they play England (wear your Trinidad and Tobago jerseys!), trinidad and Tobago are the latest cause of support.

unfortunately they were beaten by Wales in a friendly this weekend, but hey all they have to do in the tournament is beat England.

Another radio station decided to adopt Poland. The logic behind this is that because there are so many Poles working in Ireland, the Poland matches are bound to be good craic.

The Strawberry Alarmclock is definitely my new favourite radio show ever. They trail 'Colin Farrell' (I'm Colin Farrell from Phonebox, ya know) around the place to see what he's up to (Getting a fake tan on his bum for a love scene, for example). And then there's 'Gavin', South Sider, who frequently quotes his old Latin teacher, hates all things North of the Liffey and especially all the boggers (people from outside Dublin).

Anyway, that's what I wake up to in the mornings.

Don't you just love the smell of arsenic in the morning...

Today I got to be a scientist. It has been a while since I wore a lab coat and latex gloves(I can vaguely remember something with secondary school chemistry experiments), but today I had to protect myself from the bugs, dirt and arsenic that have taken possession of the animal skins in the storage drawers in the gallery.
Because of the bad condition the roof is in and the dead pigeon that has been lying on it for a year now, there is a large scale bug infestation in the Museum. To battle this, all the specimens have to be frozen in order to kill whatever it is that's eating them.
At first it was a bit eerie. Opening a drawer and finding the skin of a soul-less Timon (from the Lion King) I had to put in a bag, seal and store in a crate for transportation. Koala's, platypus, armadillos and various rodents all passed through my hands today. But in the end I got used to it.
Because these skins were prepared in the 19th Century, Arsenic would be the chemical of choice. Being extra careful was a necessity. Don't want to end up like Napoleon....

Working in a museum can be a lot more adventurous than you'd think....

Oh yeah, the floor is crumbling away too. There are many speculations about secret basements. Since nobody has the architectural plan of the building., nobody knows if there is one and what could be in it. Excitement, excitement. It's getting more Indiana Jones every day...

Getting to work is a job in itself

No, this is not about me not being able to get up in th emorning, because that has never really been a problem for me. It's about travelling though Dublin during rush hour.
Being used to small towns and smaller-than-than-medium-sized cities. I have always lived close to anywhere I needed to go. I know I have been spoilt rotten, because my bike at home died from the loneliness and agony of never being used. Why cycle if you can walk has been my motto over the last years.
Enter work placement on the south-side of Dublin city centre.
I have always wondered why there are so many people walking around in Dublin in their nice suits with shiny white runners on their feet. I now know the reason.
Although the busses can take you everywhere in the city, this is, unfortunately, just hypothetical. Usually, you take whatever bus stops close to your home and that will probably bring you to the city centre. Probably, in the sense that it is likely to either get completely stuck in traffic or break down. From the city centre, you'll probably have to get another bus that will bring you to your workplace.
In the end, you'll probably get stuck somewhere along the way, for whatever reason, and find yourself walking the rest of the distance. Hence the runners (and the little backpack that contains their real work shoes).
Lucky for me, I have so far actually made it in to town, even though I usually don't reach the south-side by bus because the streets turn into parkinglots. the museum is a 15 minute walk from there, so I'm not doing too bad really.
My way home is a different story all together. If I finish even half an hour later than usual, I might as well walk all the way home (which takes approx. 1.5 hr altogether) since the bus will be stuck in traffic even before it gets to my stop.
Good thing they are planning a lightrail and metro system now. SO in 10 years or so, the problem will be a lot smaller. Hopefully for the Dubs.

We have a lift-off!

Horray! Rachel and I have started our improvers 1 course in pole-dancing. There have already been chairs involves and next week we'll move on to hoops. Great stuff. No bruised knees so far...

Meanwhile I am working on my last assignments, which ofcourse take more time than I actually have. Ah well, one way or another they will all be done Monday week and then it's dissertation time again.

I guess Bertie's working this week...

While passing the Taoiseach's Department, the neighbours, on my way to the Museum, I saw a peculiar sign posted at the public entrance:

All tours of the Government Buildings are cancelled because of Government business.
We apologize for any inconvenience caused.

Well at least while apologising for cancelling the tourse, they also apologise in advance for doing 'Government Business'. Very considerate I must say....

The gems you find while hidden away in the attic of a 19th century building...

This week I started my work-placement in the Natural History Museum. So far, I have been editing a very boring book about the History of the Museum - which in itself is not boring, but just written in an extremely dull way.
Throughout the thing, however, I have come across a number of very amusing details, I must say. For instance, here was a group called 'the Slugs of Ireland'. And on the very last page, we found a sentence that just made the whole thing worth while: "...In that year the Patten collection of birds killed by striking Irish lighthouses was donated to the museum." ehh, right, so
Imagine someone waking up one morning, trying to figure out what to do with his life and then deciding to start a collection of birds that met their maker by flying into and Irish lighthouse.
This conversation must have occurred at some point. No doubt about it:
'Can I interest you in this dead bird for your collection?'
-'Only if it flew into a lighthouse though'
'It did'
-'Was it an Irish lighthouse?'
'Ehh no'
-'Then I don't want it.'

Headlights, white lines & black tar rivers...

There's another one I could have used for my thesis last year...

Anyway, I went to a Levellers gig on Saturday. Only decided to go on Friday, so it was another case of last-minute-fun-management.
The Levellers always make me happy and I knew they would get me right in to the Cambridge mood. So off to Temple Bar Music Centre I went. Turned out the place wasn't much bigger than our old local youth club-thingie 'balloon' so it was pretty nice to see them in such a small venue.
Since the opening act was basically what we call a 'bak takkeherrie' at home (extremely noisy, loud and unstructured) I decided to hang around the bar until they were done. It had been a while since I saw the Levellers last and even longer since I saw them in a non-festival setting. I kind of forgot what kind of crowd they draw (besides me and the people I know). So mariekschen was happily dancing the night away with a bunch of smelly hippies who think dreads are for white people.
It was great to see that the bass player was still as crazy (or high) as always, although he cut his dreads off to his bum instead of his knees and Mark and Simon, although getting a bit gray around the edges, still have those distinct voices that add so much to the music. O yeah and Jon the Fiddle player can still jump and play at the same time.

Quote of the night:
Mark: So did anyone do anything bad last night?
crowd: yeah!
Mark (pointing at somebody in the crowd): So, young man, tell us what it was. Share it with the group.
Man: Silence
Mark: Ah first time eh. Guess we've all had to do that at some point.

After ringing the bleedin' boxoffice for two days straight since Sunday, I now finally have my Cambridge ticket. Thanks to Brian in Scotland who eventually did get through....

This is gonna be great!

Amstel has not limited its excellent commercials to the Netherlands. With a slightly different concept and the slogan "This is gonna be great!" the Irish Amstel commercials have had me crawl back into my seat at the cinema after they made me fall on the ground laughing.
As extras they distributed beermat-postcards that were sent home to Mammy in co. Wicklow by her loving son Gary who helped 'this guy Chris' sail to India in 1492 and is a bit worried whether they'll ever get there, since there is no bar on board.(P.S. the lads all say HI). Ah, what can you do...

As for the rest of my time here, I have started my last two weeks of lectures. This basically means that assignments are due in the coming weeks and there's pretty much no time for much else.

Ze new office

In May it will be workplacement time. And if you have to do it, you'd better make sure you do it right. Therefore, I found myself a nice internship in probably the nicest (and poshestest) part of Dublin: Merrion Square.
I will be working at the National Museum for Natural History. HA!
This will be my new office:


It's one of those 18th Century museums Victorian-style, with a Fin Whale skeleton hanging from the sealing and every possible animal under the sun stuffed up and carefully collected throughout the centuries by the Royal Dublin Society. Just as these places are supposed to be.
As you can see, the interior is basically untouched:


I think the animals come alive at night....

The Dáil (Parliament) is connected to the building, because before they took over the premises, the Royal Dublin Society had its headquarters there and they owned the museum.

Oh and Bertie will be my neighbour, since the equally nice but of course much bigger building next door is 'Roinn na taoisigh' aka the Department of the Taoiseach (Prime Minister).

Anyway, I'll spend May there. Just so you know...

Paddy's Weekend

Since St Patrick's Day was on a Friday, there's no way around it: it had to last the whole weekend.
Zillions of years ago St Patrick brought Christianity to the Irish and chased all the snakes out of the country at the same time. (Since he was there anyway....) And he did such a good job that there still are no snakes that choose Ireland as their favourite habitat. Fair play to Paddy so.

Anyway, St Patrick is the national Saint and the 17th of March is the National holiday. People dress up in green, pin some shamrocks on their coat and go out and about for the day.

Kirstyanne, Sofia, Eros and me set out to watch the parade. By the time it was half way through we had frozen our toes off and decided to go for coffee in a nearby hotel and watch the rest of it on tv.

After the parade we went to Croke Park stadium to watch the All-Ireland Club finals. Two matches: Hurling and Gaelic Football. Although I don't know the rules of either exactly, Hurling can best be described as a sort of rough 3D fieldhockey (helmets can be worn and you may lift the hurler (stick) above your hip, in fact you have to swing it above your head ever so often) and Gaelic Football is a mixture of Football, Handball and Rugby. People like their contact sports over here.... But before I get into trouble, they are both very skillful games.
The Hurling final:

After that first match, the people from the lower tiers all ran onto the pitch to congratulate their team.

Voice over the speakers: We kindly ask all patrons to remain in their seats during the ceremony and not make their way into the field.

Kirstyanne: I don't think it's working
Mariekschen: you don't say...
Voice over the speakers: We kindly ask all patrons to return to their seats as soon as possible after the ceremony. We have a Gaelic Football match to play after this.

After we'd frozen our toes off again, Kirstyanne and I walked back to town and paid a visit to some pubs and a chipper on the way. That evening we convinced people that I was Scottish and Kirstyanne (who is actually Scottish) had won the Female Highland games. Good times good times.

Next year: parade on tv and more socks during the Club finals...

The last three six nations games were played on saturday. People had to go to the pub for 'a cure' anyway, so it was nice and full of people everywhere during the matches. Ireland beat England and considering that it was in England too, made the win even sweeter. Although France won the tournament, Ireland walked away with the Triple Crown trophy. So the whole city was celebrating this great victory that day after Paddy's day and the Rugby team were the new national heroes.

Rugby, Scots and their kilts

When Maartje came to visit me, it was also the weekend the Scottish had to play the boys in green in the 6 nations championship. Kilts and banter all over town, so Maartje definitely chose the right weekend to come here. Unfortunately we didn't have tickets to the match this time, so it was off to the pub for us to watch it on the big screen.

Saturday night
Maartje: I want a photo with a scot wearing a kilt
Kirstyanne: no prob. hey you! my dutch friends would like a photo with you
Scot in kilt: ok, sure
Random punter: I'll take it. All of yis get in there.
Bouncer: Ok people time to leave, we're closing
Random punter: Ah just one photo. You can be in it.
Bouncer: well ok. (grabs a few more people to get in to the photo)

Result:

the bouncer is the guy in black, right in front of me.

Fake tans and first communions

Lecturer: When you think about it, it's kind of rediculous that little 7 year old girls have to dress up as brides to receive the body of Christ for the first time. Let alone the whole circus that surrounds it these days. People lending money to pay for an exorbitant party complete with a stretched limo to bring their daughter to church that one time a year they actually go there. In my day there was only one kind of veil and the nuns picked that out for us. It's insane what they wear these days, they really are brides in miniature.
Danielle: And then there's also the fake tans, hair extensions and manicures they have to have ofcourse.
mariekschen: What?! the little girls or their mothers?
Danielle: No, the girls themselves.
Brian: When I have kids, I'll move to West-Cork, so my daughter won't have any other choice but to wear Wellies.*
Carmel (from West Cork): Hey!
Brian: No offence, but that really is my plan though.
Carmel: Well, I actually do own two pairs of Wellies...

Lecturer: Ok, we drifted off here, back to the influence of the sociology of knowledge on science.

* Wellies (Wellingtons) are rainboots