Bitching Brew

La nostalgie - Dublin in spring

2009-08-31T23:15:00.005+01:00

Blue sea, green grass, red blood, and yellow sun. If only every day was like (that) Sunday.

To Moskva!

2009-08-19T00:13:00.002+01:00

T-minus 36 hours...

The Quick and Easy Guide to Pissing Off Your Housemates.

2009-07-26T14:17:00.007+01:00

(1) Constantly complain about the house, missing no opportunity to air your desire to find a new home.
(2) Be offended when your housemates don't share your enthusiasm for living further away from the city, nor for paying 60% extra rent for that privilege.
(3) Inform your housemates by e-mail that you've given the landlord your month's notice, although you could have said it in person at our shared dinner the night before.
(4) Make little effort either to secure a new home or to assist in finding a replacement. Go on holiday for two weeks.
(5) Decide while on holiday that you might actually want to stay, but not bother to tell anyone. Meanwhile, your housemates are running ads and giving up several evenings to show the place. After a lengthy process, your housemates offer someone the room. She accepts with pleasure and pays the deposit.
(6) Return late from your holiday, and call the landlord to say you might like to stay. During this call, you suggest to the landlord that if he's willing to provide better beds, it would be perfectly acceptable to increase the rent by €100 per person, per month. The landlord, naturally, thinks this is a fantastic idea. The housemates remain unaware of this entire conversation.
(7) Seven days before you're due to move out, inform your housemates of the above conversation.
(8) React with fury and insults when your housemates tell you that someone else has agreed to move in, that they object to your proposal to the landlord, and that you can't just go around breaking promises. You grudgingly accept, with flecks of contempt, an offer to let you stay for up to a month while you search for a new home. You accuse the housemates of a conspiracy to evict you.
(9) Stomp loudly, blank your housemates, and create a maelstrom of noise any time you're in the kitchen.
(10) On Saturday evening, after agreeing to let your housemates invite friends over, your plans for the night fall through. You come downstairs, reduce the music, turn on the TV, and crank the volume up. You ignore both your housemates and their guests.

Am I wrong to be infuriated by this person, whom I would previously have called a friend?

Beneath the willows.

2009-07-19T22:18:00.005+01:00

People don't take enough time out in this city. The hectic pace of work hours seems to continue through the rest of the day and week. I suppose business and busyness are close cousins; thus by escaping from one, I hope to moderate the other. (I'll speak of that soon enough.)

On Charlemont Street Monday evening, my cheek winced at the light tap of a raindrop. I've taken to walking this way recently, as it lets me stroll a short stretch of the Grand Canal (sometimes Gross Gutter), a prettier route than my old haunt of South Richmond Street.

On a bright summer evening, taking the south bank is a pleasure, as the sunlight warms my face and my mood. That time, the increasing patter and stacks of grey cloud signalled a full downpour was imminent. Thus I decided to walk the north bank, hoping to shelter beneath the willow trees that curve across the canal, protecting the old tow path. When the sky cracked a minute later, the rain came down in torrents. People scuttled for cover... yet hardly anyone made use of these beautiful natural umbrellas. Even the few that did got frustrated after little more than five minutes, and decided to brave the rain in order to get moving. I was alone in waiting out the storm for twenty minutes. It didn't feel like lost time; instead, I quite enjoyed watching the strange habits of people in rain. For instance, two lads in their twenties emerged from the flats behind the canal with fishing lines. They explained that the height of a storm is one of the best times to catch fish. I'm still a little sceptical, as they reeled in only junk and weeds.

When the rain cleared and sunlight returned, I naturally moved off. Despite the drips of rain that made their way through my cover, I'm quite pleased I was caught outdoors in the downpour. It was a thoroughly enjoyable wait beneath the willows. More and more, I'm learning to appreciate the trees in my neighbourhood.

He does have news, though he's only a little less coy than normal.

2009-05-06T20:36:00.001+01:00

And the internet is gone again. I seem to have a knack of picking apartments in broadband black spots. This time, the absence may be permanent, after our already-useless ISP decided to downgrade their local transmitter, putting us completely out of reach.

My master-plan is proceeding smoothly. You may know what it is, but if not, it's not difficult to extrapolate. All my applications for September were accepted (a fine ego boost!), so now I have the luxury of choosing the most challenging option. Once that's trained my mind and bloodied my soul, I shall take the rare (and welcome) opportunity to work in the US. So in less than 18 months, I plan to be living and working in the US. That ought to be followed by a proper jaunt across the Pacific, taking in New Zealand, South-East Asia, Central Asia, and finally, the Middle East. Of course, I'm at complete liberty to amend that itinerary. I'm almost as likely to head east and take the Trans-Siberian. After that? Perhaps a Ph.D.; perhaps not. I'm aware of my constraints, but I treat the world as my oyster, and I'd like to sample every last bit before going on to master it.

Budapest

2009-04-13T19:18:00.006+01:00

The interior of St. Stephen's Cathedral.

The plaza outside the cathedral.

The upper front exterior of the cathedral.

The Gang of Four fellow explorers from the hostel, representing Australia, Canada, and the Netherlands.

My urge to jump was tempered by the knowledge that the barge was en route to Bratislava.

The (dirty) Danube, with Buda on the left and Pest on the right.

Crossing the Chain Bridge.

Peeking across the river at the Parliament building.

Looking across to Pest.

That wall was wonderful to laze on. Let's not mention the vertical drop on the other side.

I like the colour in this picture. It was taken from Buda's Castle Hill.

Sunshine breaks on Fisherman's Bastion.

Budapest, if you haven't noticed already, is frequently beautiful.

The stupendous Parliament building bathed in sunset gold.

Moonrise over Pest.

Two travellers stand above the centre of the Danube. You may recognise the skanky, dishevelled backpacker on the right...

My route across Europe

2009-04-11T13:51:00.008+01:00

In case you're curious, here's a list of all the inter-city journeys I made as I crossed Europe. And I wonder why I'm still tired...

Dublin - Rosslare
Rosslare - Fishguard
Fishguard - Swansea
Swansea - London
London - Bruxelles (Brussels)
Bruxelles (Brussels) - Liège
Liège - Aachen
Aachen - Köln (Cologne)
Köln (Cologne) - Mannheim
Mannheim - Basel
Basel - Interlaken
Interlaken - Luzern (Lucerne)
Luzern (Lucerne) - Bern
Bern - Spiez
Spiez - Interlaken
Interlaken - Lauterbrunnen
Lauterbrunnen - Stechelberg
Stechelberg - Mürren
Mürren - Stechelberg
Stechelberg - Lauterbrunnen
Lauterbrunnen - Interlaken
Interlaken - Bern
Bern - Zürich
Zürich - Wien (Vienna)
Wien (Vienna) - Budapest
Budapest - Суботица (Subotica)
Суботица (Subotica) - Београд (Belgrade)
Београд (Belgrade) - Ниш (Niš)
Ниш (Niš) - Димитровград (Dimitrovgrad)
Димитровград (Dimitrovgrad) - София (Sofia)
София (Sofia) - İstanbul
İstanbul - London
London - Dublin

Switzerland: The Bernese Alps

2009-04-10T13:07:00.011+01:00

Aya Sofia!

2009-03-15T18:51:00.002Z

If ever a train ride was worthy of the label "ghetto", that was it. Fortunately, I lost only 5 euro, 7 dinar, my English-Bulgarian phrase notes, and some of my Western prejudices and standards. I also acquired a marriage proposal, a short time in true squalor, a glance into deep poverty, some sketchy companions, two unsuccessful muggings, a knack for paying bribes, and a few really good stories.

Now I'm in crazy Istanbul. More to follow.

Alarmist?

2009-03-12T22:45:00.004Z

The trip has been amazing so far. Budapest was especially fun. Right now, I'm chilling on my last night in Belgrade, Serbia. Ever wondered what a bomb site looks like up close? Ever been morbidly curious to see the sick devastation wrought by a cruise missile? Come and have a look around; you'll have plenty of spots to choose from.

On Saturday, I'll be in Istanbul, and I'm really looking forward to it. Unfortunately, to get there, I may have to endure the sketchiest 24 hours of my life. I'll be travelling by train from Belgrade to Sofia to Istanbul... and I haven't been able to reserve a cabin or sleeper of any kind. I'm told that it may be possible once I reach Sofia. There is no way I'm going overnight through Bulgaria in a regular seat; the daytime journey will be unpleasant enough. The "trains" I saw in northern Serbia were Third World at best. I never expected to see bare metal boxes without doors, air-conditioning, food, water or toilets, and people clinging onto the sides, pass as inter-city transportation in Europe. Then again, if you'd seen the camps and shanty towns that pass as regional cities in these parts... And beyond the seating conditions, the stories and warnings I've heard from fellow travellers are giving me the jitters.

If the first leg of the journey turns out to be repulsive, I may take the emergency option of an overnight bus from Sofia to Istanbul. Yes, it may well be nastier than an overnight Greyhound, but I've been told it's less dangerous than the train.

In all my travelling, I've never been so apprehensive. I hope my worries are overblown.

Really!!!

And now for Europe...

2009-02-26T23:29:00.005Z

I'm a little nervous now. Sure, I'm excited, but this is the time when the anxiety creeps in. I can no longer escape the fact that I'll be alone, without no one to turn to, through several foreign countries. Yes, the 24 hours before departure have a habit of suppressing all my previous confidence... but only for those 24 hours.

It'll be fine once I'm on the ferry. Until then, a gaggle of little doubts will merrily Morris-dance around my skull.

My trip plan has altered slightly. My first bed will be in Brussels instead of Paris. Since it'll take me 22 hours and 5 connections to get there, I'm giving it two nights. I'm now ending the journey in Istanbul rather than Ephesus. Also, I'll poke my head into Luxembourg, and I've dropped Zurich and Salzburg. This way, I'll be spending a little longer in each of my stops, which should make the trek less tiring without being less rewarding.

Onward, pseudo-soldier.

Winter-railing!

2009-02-17T00:44:00.003Z

The drift has been arrested.

Last time I wrote, I was rather listless. Now that I've taken decisions and chosen my gambles, I'm looking to the future with optimism instead of foreboding.

The option(s) chosen may surprise. You'll hear in due course - but naturally, one has to be wary of the corporate minions who trawl the web.

To date, I've only visited 12 countries - a rather pathetic total. Just after my 25th birthday, I set myself a target: while I'm still 25, I want to bring that number to 25. Thereafter, the total should always exceed my age.

I'm devoting this year to exploring Europe. Adventure one kicks off in ten days. The mission: to cross Europe without flying. The intended route: Dublin - Holyhead - London - Paris - Interlaken - Zurich - Salzburg - Vienna - Budapest - Belgrade - Sofia - Istanbul - Ephesus. In eighteen days, I aim to sample Alpine adventure, the high art of Mitteleurope, the decay and buzz of the old Eastern bloc, and the greatest city in world history. Capital of three empires, spanning 1600 years? Beat that.

As a trip like this can't be fully booked in advance, I'll be improvising and playing with the itinerary as I travel. I like to live by my wits! After Budapest, for example, there are potential pitfalls. (Let's not mention thieves and sketchy hostels.) The Belgrade - Sofia line is currently out of service, so unless that's restored in time, I'll have to divert. One option would be time-consuming - to continue south from Belgrade, to Skopje in Macedonia, and then Thessaloniki in Greece before heading for Istanbul. The other possibility would be to eschew both Belgrade and Sofia in favour of Transylvania.

This trip will see me set foot in at least six new countries - Switzerland, Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Turkey - bringing me to a total of eighteen.

Before anyone asks: yes, it would be easier, more comfortable, quicker, and cheaper to fly directly from Dublin to Switzerland... but where's the fun in that? At the age of 25, I'll have entirely crossed two continents by land. While not a spectacular achievement, it is a minor one - and one to built upon. It won't surprise you to learn that I plan to ramp that number up from two to five before I'm 30.

This is by far the most exciting trip I've taken since I was 21 - and I am *stoked*.

Beyond one's control...

2009-01-14T00:12:00.002Z

Four months ago, I was planning my professional studies abroad.

Now, not only can I no longer afford that, but I may have to keep working to support my family, even though I live apart from them.

How quickly prospects change.

Québec (Photos)

2008-10-27T14:32:00.005Z

Québec, founded in 1608, is celebrating its 400th anniversary this year. It's an interesting little city, though it would be an inhospitable home in winter. For those who think Boston, Montreal and Philadelphia are "like European cities", think again. (Or visit Europe.) Québec puts all three in their (proper, North American) place; there's nowhere like it in North America.

Note: As I didn't bring a tripod on tour, my night shots are all hand-held long exposures. I'm delighted with their quality; all my practice is finally paying off. You need ninja stillness to pull off a two-second exposure.

This fountain lies just outside the city walls. In the background sits l'Hôtel du Parlement, home of l'Assemblée nationale, Québec's provincial parliament. Its Second Empire architecture resembles Philadelphia's City Hall, and sets it apart from other provincial parliament buildings.

Porte St. Louis - one of the four gates in the city walls.

Part of the massive Château Frontenac hotel, as viewed from the Terrasse Dufferin, a boardwalk overlooking the Basse-Ville (Lower Town).

The upper part of Le Château Frontenac. This building hosted two summits of Allied leaders in 1943 and 1944. I wonder which room is cheaper per night: Roosevelt's or Churchill's?

L'Édifice Price, Vieux-Québec's tallest structure. This small skyscraper from the Depression era was built in a fine Art Deco style.

A shot taken around le Séminaire de Québec and le Musée de l'Amérique française.

Cannons along the walls of l'Haute Ville (the Upper Town), overlooking the vast St. Lawrence River.

Another picture from the Upper Town. The statue is of Mgr François de Laval.

A narrow street in la Basse-Ville (the Lower Town), harbouring more than its fair share of souvenir shops.

An impressive mural in the Lower Town. Place Royale, the site of the founding settlement, is visible on the left.

The Funiculaire ferries people between the Lower and Upper Town. It's cool, but I preferred to use l'Escalier Casse-Cou (the Break-Neck Stairs).

The QE2 was docked at Québec on its final cruise around the world. I had no idea that cruise ships sailed so far upriver - Québec is hundreds of kilometres from the sea.

The bow of the departing QE2. The ship is enormous; even the Titanic was smaller.

Confusion.

2008-10-19T23:59:00.005+01:00

I wasn't sure that I wanted to be stuck in debt for the next several years. That doubt doesn't really matter anymore, as I'm now unable get a student loan for my studies abroad (nor even to study here). Yes, my carefully-laid plans have been shredded by the financial crisis.

I've saved hard for some time now, but even factoring in all possible funding and scholarships, I'm falling too far short. I always knew a student loan would be necessary to cover a third of my costs. The ugly truth is that I can't afford to study what I want to - not just where I want to, but anywhere.

So, I don't really know what I want to do now. These doubts were growing during my recent travels, and now the loss of my default option has created a yawning gulf in front of me. I'm trying to see it as an opportunity...

The options open to me fall into three broad categories:

Work away for another two years to slash the loan needed. This would mean that I'd be applying at the end of 2009 to begin in autumn 2010.
Find a one-year Master's course in a discipline I'm slightly interested in. If it was in Ireland or the UK, I could probably afford it... just.
Throw the towel in. Escape from this dead career path, renounce further study, and head to foreign lands to enjoy the second half of my twenties.

I don't like option one at all. I'd have to scrimp and save for another four years, go back to college having been out for four years, and worst of all, probably be stuck here in Dublin in a depressing career rut for another two years. I could only survive it if I found a new line of work; however, I'm in this job only because I couldn't find anything else. It'll hardly be easier to find satisfying work now.

Option two offers the advantages of a higher qualification, a probable change of career, and an escape from the current ball and chain. It comes with the disadvantages of wiping out all my savings, probably tying me to Britain or Ireland until I'm thirty, and having to settle for a field of study (and career) not wholly desired.

Option three is exerting a strong pull on me right now. My current line of work offers neither intellectual nor personal satisfaction. The corporate world is clearly not for me. Even if I can't find intellectual satisfaction by running away, perhaps I can find something that I enjoy - something that warms my heart.

It would be risky to choose option three. I could find myself experiencing Canada Redux, more than once: having the time of my life for a year, and then being forced to leave. I could live abroad comfortably for the next five years, but then what? No qualifications, no consistent work experience, and possibly having to return to Ireland?

It could, however, be the courageous choice. Having a good TCD degree is a great advantage, but in some ways, it can be a burden. It pushes one toward either postgraduate studies or a professional career, and the subject studied narrows the options further. The burden is psychological more than social - a largely internal pressure to "make the most of your degree". I've been avoiding both graduate studies and a professional career for some time now, though I believed I had settled on a plan to pursue both. The doubts persist.

In my twenty-five years, I've discovered one activity that I truly love: travel. Maybe I never lost my childhood curiosity. I'm fascinated by urban life and charmed by the great outdoors. To my love of travel, I've married my other great hobby of the last three years: meeting new people. I've not yet grown bored of constantly adding new friends and stirring the social pots. Having said all that, I now have a strong appreciation of home, of friends, and especially of family. The great lesson of my time abroad is that although I have a strong intellectual bent, my real passions are social. I would have never discovered that (or fully indulged them) had I continued straight on at university.

I'm restless, and I have much to decide. Each path offers riches of various kinds; however, the paths are long, and thus they also preclude so much.

P.S. Photos from the trip will follow soon!

The August update.

2008-08-25T02:33:00.003+01:00

News:

I'm just back from a long weekend at the Edinburgh festival(s). It's definitely a must-see.
I'll be spending much of October and November preparing for the GRE. Oh joy. There's also the small matter of filling out several course applications.
After a lull of over half a year, the internet will soon return to my home life. I'm moving out of the money-pit in two weeks. I have high hopes for the next place, wherever and whatever that turns out to be. It will have internet. And a washing machine. And a passable kitchen.
September is going to be a blast. Can-Can-Canada, here I come again. This'll be the third September in a row I'll have been in TO. (Yes, I really like the film festival. The heat and sunshine also appeal.) A few days in the metropolis, catching films and embracing friends, will be followed by fourteen speeding around eastern Canada. This year, I'm going beyond my usual urban adventures. The great wilderness awaits. Let's hear it for a few of these: hiking, kayaking, sailing, whale-watching, bungee jumping, camping, canoeing, river-tubing, mountain biking, and a fair sprinkling of culture and fun.

Non-news:

I'm not looking forward to work tomorrow morning.

Beep.

2008-07-09T19:23:00.006+01:00

Yes, I'm still alive. It's been a decade since I lived without internet access; it's really beginning to grate now. The offline world certainly has its advantages, but the handicaps of living in a telecoms black hole are considerable. I miss Skype, messengers and blogging too much. Even e-mailing is tough: my workplace blocks all web-based e-mail. Besides, the job is too time-consuming to afford me much opportunity. All this calculation and negotiation.... bleurgh. If I got as little as 0.01% commission on the current deal, I'd be a very happy man, but 'tis not to be. (OK, very happy is an exaggeration, but I'd still get two great holidays out of it.)

I read, wrote and argued a lot about the Lisbon Treaty, and am very irritated I couldn't blog about it. Sadly, it wasn't feasible, but my arguments probably influenced more votes than the blog would have! There weren't many people in Ireland (or Europe) who read that thing, let alone the pre- and post-amendment versions of the Treaty of Rome and the Treaty on European Union. Among the little band that did, even fewer had read the abortive Constitutional Treaty, and compared the equivalent passages in Lisbon. I studied more than enough of the European Union (law, institutions, history, economics and politics) to make sense of the unwieldy beast behind the referendum proposal. So yes, I'm quite annoyed I couldn't write about it. It's not often that I'll be one of the thousand most informed people in the country about a critical vote. Still, my arguments may have strongly influenced as many as... five people. Ahem. (Yes - that's more than my blog would have.)

Once I'd finished my second reading, my objections had proceeded from individual articles to the entire document. Enough of this intergovernmental-federal mishmash; I refuse to devolve power without accountability. Either Europe reverts to a weakly united group of sovereign states, or it moves toward a federal system with each layer of government directly accountable to its citizens. The EU is no Soviet Union, but it has strayed too far from the liberal, republican and democratic principles its members espouse.

I voted No with a clear mind, and I've never felt happier with my vote. (Also, it's nice to be part of the majority for once.) Should (or when) our great leaders move to circumvent the vote, neither this blog nor this citizen will be silent. I've written commentaries on a couple of articles largely ignored in the debate; they'd be the first pieces to appear.

May, Britain and Photography.

2008-05-18T16:36:00.004+01:00

Long weekends keep me sane. I'm being careful not to eat away my annual leave; all my days off so far have been either public holidays or accumulated flexi-time credit. Next weekend though, I'll be using up my first two vacation days. I can afford to: after that, I'll still have another six weeks to play with this year.

Last month, I visited Edinburgh, Stirling and (briefly) Glasgow. I'm just back from Glasgow again, where I met travelling friends. Scotland is a lovely place. I'm going to return to Edinburgh during the festivals in August. Next weekend I'll be in London for four days. I'm really looking forward to it; I haven't "done" London properly before. There's so much to see - I'd take a week if I could, but the budget wouldn't stretch that far. Still, it'll be a fun four days - I can't wait to catch up with some friends.

I'm working hard at photography these days: practicing my technique and composition. I was dissatisfied with my autumn pictures last year: my skills and my camera both let me down. There were too many shots that I failed to pull off, sometimes through bad composition, but more often because of a lack of advanced technique. My camera was a fine starter model - a nice semi-automatic digital, but I ran up against its limitations as often as my own. It couldn't keep pace with my improving technique.

Thus, when money started to roll in this spring, I invested in some serious kit. It's not the top of the line, but it'll last me years. It's able to handle photojournalism, landscapes, urban photography and portraits, though I wouldn't risk it at an outdoor sports event. (Technically, it's excellent, but it doesn't have the durable build of the most expensive models.) I'll need to gradually invest in additional lenses, and a couple more accessories. My technique isn't yet strong enough to justify those, but I'm improving quickly.

Dublin's a fine city to learn photography. The cityscape is varied and beautiful scenery is within an hour of home. Alas, the days are too long now for me to shoot sunrises. I'm noting the best static photo-ops I come across; I plan to shoot each of them several times, at different times of day and year, as well as under varying weather conditions. Once I'm proficient at still life, urban and landscape photography, I'll switch to practicing portraits. You can't run without learning to walk. That'll be several months away at least...

Don't worry, I'm not deluded enough to expect a career out of this. Should I prove skilful, that could happen, but it's not worth thinking about now. I'm doing this for fun - it flows naturally from my love of travel, people and cityscapes.

Life

2008-04-03T22:34:00.003+01:00

Just a very quick note. I've been conspicuously absent from the blog (and the internet) for the past month, due to the equally conspicuous absence of internet in my new apartment/cramped closet in a 200 year old building. Although I've written plenty in notebooks, I haven't had the time to load anything up, and it has a tendency to date. (Like me?!) This internet cafe isn't free, and it's also cramped.

Still, I live in one of the best locations in Dublin. The southern end of Camden Street is not to be sniffed at, nor is my 7 minute walk to work. I'm surrounded by cheap stores, great bars and ridiculous clubs. Around the corner is Ireland's only Jewish bakery, which is a morning pilgrimage point. Life isn't bad. I see my friends all the time now. Come visit. I make good coffee and have an intriguing drinks cabinet. Failing that, come for exotic teas and Hob Nobs.

21 Vignettes.

2008-02-29T00:46:00.010Z

Air - Sexy Boy
Travelling on a Skytrain to Burnaby in the late morning, rolling above hills and houses; gazing at the snow-dusted mountains, stark against the bright blue sky. I was looking for Halloween costumes at the Value Village thrift store. Maybe I was hoping to look like a sexy boy in a $15 patchwork. Maybe it was my Southern tan, good hair and cheerful, confident air. This song just worked. The opening bars were perfect as the train tilted modestly. Oh Vancouver.
Devendra Banhart - Canela
Ever sit on a low stone wall and forget everything? Two robins kiss and the afternoon crowds pass by. Love or lust - what does it matter? Deaf to disapproval and blind to children's covered eyes, hours to the world are timeless for two. The song is perfectly short - what else needs to be said? Looking blankly at a bus window, it briefly stirs wistful thoughts.
Nine Inch Nails - Closer
Jen and I played this at full boom for the next door neighbours going at it against the wall of our sun-room. The illicit couple provided endless aural pleasure; their arguments were irresistible.
Monifah - Touch It
Yeah. You know it. Do I hear a teehee in the back?
Bruce Springsteen - Downbound Train
Some things in life are beyond your control. She leaves or you have to move. One word gnaws at your...my soul: 'if'. It's not the if of the coward, that lingering regret about inaction. No, this 'if' steals more than happiness and confidence; robbed, cheated, I feel helpless and mortal. The theft of passion haunts more than the avoidance of it. This song is about if and its corrosion of my soil.
Pulp - Disco 2000
I remember dancing to this long before 2000; it seemed so far away then. Now it's 2008. Hmm. Let's all meet up in 2015? Some of you will be pushing 40 by then... yikes.
David Bowie - Everyone Says 'Hi'
This superficially innocent song strikes me deeply. Double meaning to me: an emigrant across the ocean, severed from everyone he knew and loved; and trying to explain death to a child. It's a song of loss - when you realise truly that someone you care about can no longer be reached.
Erasure - A Little Respect
One of the great pop singles. Beware: if your special someone is listening to this song a lot, you're doing something very wrong. If you wonder why I'm cynical and cautious, there's a hint here.
Goo Goo Dolls - Black Balloon
Be careful who you fall for. Be careful who you get involved with. A gutted childhood or youth need not be a deadweight or anchor; it can be a black balloon, a spur to action. But using such a balloon to carry oneself isn't the conquest it seems - it isn't letting go. "I almost fell into that hole in your life." I even "went on as you got colder". I'd like to think I meant more to you than ice from the spoon... but I'm not sure.
Journey - Don't Stop Believing
I'll always remember playing this on a jukebox in a roadside diner, off I-75, an hour north of Atlanta. It was an empty Waffle House, with the sun gone down, the staff apathetic and the coffee rank. I chose this strangely apposite track to go with a slice of pecan pie. Don't stop believing - you're living the American dream..........
The Knife - Heartbeats
Something to ponder on a late-night bus. It works equally well on the quiet Montreal metro; the succession of stations, sliding doors, and walking faces made a fine video for this stranger's choice of song.
Oasis - Don't Look Back In Anger
My karaoke song of choice on foreign shores. (My accent buys me a lot of leeway.) Good memories of mediocre but homely Toronto bars.
The New Pornographers - Sing Me Spanish Techno
Here's a travel song for you! I often need to get away, take time out, find some distance, and revel in novelty and adventure. I often did "crash here right now". Take the whole chorus from "travelling at godspeed" on - that's my story. It got me pumped en route to obscure towns I knew nothing about.
New Radicals - You Get What You Give
How can this not inspire you? Gloomy morning in work - click it on. Best song of the 90s?
The Arcade Fire - Ocean of Noise
I see a couple slow-dancing underwater. It must be a shallow shore, because the water is dimly lit by a bluish-green afterglow. He's wearing an old morning suit, she's dressed in a passed-down ball gown. Is it a last dance? I think so. Stretch, swing, pivot, then tight again. It's beautiful and unbearably sad.
Weezer - Buddy Holly
On the open road in northwestern Ohio, wind whipping through my hair and T-shirt on a hot August afternoon. It's a great driving song, but I'll always associate it with my first glimpse of a nuclear power plant, which we passed at a safe distance of... 100 metres. The thing was sinister, especially at night, with its little rim of blinking reds poking through a cloud of steam, spoiling an open sky of black velvet and glitter.
Timbaland - The Way I Are
I remember it fondly: the first place I heard it was a cramped backseat, racing down Broadway on a raucous Friday night. The lights, rhythms and vibrant fire life of half Vancouver lined the street for us. Or so it seemed. Timbaland raised the roof, but we pushed it higher.
The Waifs - London Still
Ever been homesick? The kind that can't be cured with a last-minute Ryanair flight? Oh, life mightn't be a cesspit, but the people you need at that moment are impossibly far away.
The Twilight Singers - The Lure Would Prove Too Much
One of a dozen reasons why they're my favourite band. I lack the genius to describe this wonderful song. I don't know why it's so good. Just close your eyes and play it.
Wolf Parade - Shine a Light
This song sticks from my first bus into Toronto. Early evening, a pewter-Irish sky, only higher and wider. At first all was grey - the vast concrete flyovers and spaghetti junctions of Pearson Airport gave way to the 16-lane monster that is the 401. Eventually, punching through the cocoon of dull suburbia, my dead gaze gave way to shivers. As we turned onto Lakeshore West, the CN Tower reached to the rising moon, watching over bands of shimmering skyscrapers that lined the inland sea. Half an hour later, I was alone at King and Simcoe, pulling a broken suitcase beneath the watchful street lamps of an alien city. Now those were shivers.
James Carr - The Dark End of the Street
I was awoken to New Orleans soul in... Knoxville, Tennessee. Thanks are due to a pair of English installation artists, an obscure used vinyl store, and two funky local girls. To my ears, this is the greatest soul song and performance of them all. You can't help but tremble at the pain and guilt of this torn cheater, knowing he and she will never stop.

2008 Travels

2008-02-24T21:50:00.006Z

I have a bunch of hand-written stuff to upload to the blog - I hope to get lots of it up over the next week. A flood of e-mails has upset my balance recently. Between work, the commute and house-hunting, I've had little time to devote to replies and blog posts.

One of Europe's finest advantages over North America is the lengthy vacation time. I have between five and seven weeks to spend wisely this year. I've already promised to pop over to Edinburgh during the festival. (Coincidentally, I'm also going there on a business trip in April.) I plan to take a long weekend in London during the spring. It's my local metropolis, and I have a few friends there. Beyond those certain trips...?

Although I spent over a year in Canada, I never saw the Northern Lights. I'd like to rectify that in the coming autumn or winter. My destination of choice: Tromsø, Norway. Tromsø is one of the world's northernmost settlements, located at 69°40' N. (For the sake of my photography, it might be smart to visit before or after daylight goes AWOL for two months.) It's not excessively difficult or expensive to reach, is set in a stunning landscape, and offers the chance of a nocturnal marvel.

Tromsø, for all its glory, will be small fry compared to my major adventure this year: Fun in the Balkans (TM). Why go somewhere safe when there's a simmering cauldron of ethnic conflict to sip from? Ahem. In late August, I'll fly into Budapest, Hungary. After an overnight train journey south, the (coach class) adventure will follow this route:

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Dubrovnik, Croatia
Kotor, Montenegro
Podgorica, Montenegro (If I time it right, I'll catch the Ireland-Montenegro football match.)
Belgrade, Serbia
Novi Sad, Serbia

After Novi Sad, I'll head for either Budapest (again) or Bucharest, Romania, to escape back to the West. Here's hoping the Kosovo furore has cooled down in six months, and that I can play the Irish card in Serbia. I'd rather not be mistaken for an American or Briton there...

I'll still have several vacation days to play around with, but those are the major projects so far. Exciting stuff!

Interregnum.

2008-01-23T01:13:00.002Z

Does society need structure? I don't believe a society exists without some form of structure, formal or otherwise. I suspect that "authority" lurks behind "structure", in the answer as much as in the question.

Does the human need structure? Less abstractly, do I need structure? The last four months have been largely devoid of it. I can divide that chunk of my life neatly in half.

The first two months lacked a formal structure or authority, but they did constitute an adventure, a quest almost. For what? Don't be silly; a quest doesn't need a charter or mission statement. Think more along the lines of a personal quest, similar to those practiced by many First Nations. Mine, however, was shaped by strangers rather than animals, and guided by rarely-seen relatives instead of ancestral spirits. A quest has a rough but mutable plan of action. The guiding motives are personal and arise spontaneously during the absence from the community - from the structure. Immersion and separation are my two poles of understanding.

Structure is a monarch, and the four great pillars of structure are home, family, occupation and lover. I lacked all four of those for two months on the road. (Far-flung family members have a special position.) The freedom and disorder were exhilarating and relaxing, each in their own good time. Disordered strands eventually clump into order, so the liberty could not last forever; it has its own half-life.

Once back in Ireland, I clung (without noticing) to the pillars of family and home. Single and unemployed, my life remained disordered, but it began to assume temporary patterns. Starved of the internal authority of the quest, I began to flounder in the void.

The interregnum initially brought liberation, and a marvellous self-reliance. Authority, ambitions and acts were spontaneously generated. I resolved competing demands quickly, using a flash-mix of instinct and logic. Internal harmony is a beautiful thing, and it becomes near-mystical when your surroundings (natural and human) seem to resonate. Eventually though, the happy dream faded as external forces impeded. Harmony was lost once resources drained, and the structures of society are fain forgiving of the materially bankrupt.

The second half of the interregnum has been marked by a struggle for order - a struggle for re-admittance? The order found is not a permanent constitution; nevertheless, this makeshift arrangement will be adhered to for quite the foreseeable future. Finances will be re-built, and experience accumulated within the structure this time. A longer period of immersion - before the next separation. My new job begins next Monday; a new home shall follow within weeks. I'm graduating from university soon, a mere twenty months after my final exams. (Even the year below beat me to the parchments.) Oh, and I've finally memorised my new phone number - surely a sign that I've accepted my place for now?

A Distaste for Perfection (I)

2008-01-10T21:30:00.000Z

Television. 3-D graphics.

Models. Make-up. The glossy photo.

The perfect 10. Normal BMI.

The quest for symmetry.

Pushing all the buttons. The ideal relationship.

Special effects. The movie death.

Second Life. Television.

Structures. Equations. Facts.

The hero. The divine.

Stock shots. Appropriate emotion.

Life by numbers. Sex by numbers.

Manuals. Guidebooks.

Television.

The image. No longer grasping for reality - it is reality.

Food in Ireland, or >:(

2008-01-09T00:56:00.000Z

The Irish diet is slowly killing me. I'm doing my best to fight it, but it's impossible to eat the same way I did in Toronto. I need to establish a compromise position, and then slowly work away from the Irish stuff.

Irish (and British) cuisine is bland, badly cooked and stodgy. Bread, meat and potatoes are the three staples. I did eat a variety of breads in Canada, but I shunned potatoes and ate very little meat. The greatest problem with the diet here is that meat is generally the main offering, with vegetables and such treated almost as condiments. In contrast, when I cook, I treat the carbohydrate (pasta, risotto, or Asian rice) as the centrepiece of the meal, with meat, fish and vegetables as side dishes. It's a healthy principle to follow, though it must occasionally be elided, e.g. when serving salmon or a roast meat. In those cases, I still try to maintain balance by making the meat or fish no more than 50% of the serving.

There is plenty of excellent Irish produce, but the recipes and the quality of cooking fail to make the most of it. In particular, the salads tend to be tasteless and unimaginative. Two varieties of green lettuce doth not a salad make! The best cuisine in Ireland draws on foreign recipes for inspiration, but then blends those with the local specialties and ingredients. I'm hopeful that this trend will spread into homes; it is slowly taking root in Dublin's restaurants and cafes. As for home cooking, people here rely far too much on boiling and frying. Their inappropriate use is an offence to taste as well as health. Way to kill a flavour.

Rant over.

On a more positive note, I'm going to maintain a list of decent cafes, restaurants and bars in Dublin, either here or on Facebook. I'll begin in this post by drawing on my recent experiences, in no special order. A hall of shame may follow in the future... but I haven't got all night. Until then, here are the good ones.

The Cake Cafe - Tucked away off Camden Street, this hidden gem serves decent lunches, lovely teas and yummy cakes. Oh - when I say hidden, I'm not kidding.
Busyfeet & Coco Cafe - I've been fond of this place for years. The food is good, the coffee decent, and the chai lattes are among Dublin's best. The food is a little pricey though.
The Market Bar - Good value for a small group. Mmm, patatas bravas to share. The tapas menu is reasonably priced and of decent quality. I recommend the fish pie.
Il Caffe di Napoli - Genuinely excellent coffee (a rarity in Dublin). Westland Row commuters are lucky to have it.
The Woolshed - I'm including this sports bar because the nachos are the best I've had in Dublin. They'd easily pass muster in North America.
Fallon & Byrne (cafe) - Excellent sandwiches, available for take-out if desired. Warning: a number of friends have been disappointed by the restaurant downstairs.
Zaytoon - Dublin's best kebabs. The ideal 3am snack.
Dunne & Crescenzi's - It's over-run these days, but if you can get a table, yum. The coffee is fantastic (as is its price). I'm a fan of their bruschetta and smoked salmon salad. Glasses of wine are good value.
Keogh's Cafe - Go for the scones, the scones!
Cornucopia - Vegetarians in Dublin aren't spoiled for choice. Cornucopia is a fine spot for lunch (try the garlic potato salad), though I'd never choose it for dinner. I dearly miss Toronto's veggie restaurants. :(
Lemon - I still haven't tasted better crepes in Dublin. Question: why do people eat savoury crepes? I don't get it...
Il Baccaro - I really liked this Italian restaurant, concealed in a Temple Bar cellar.
Botticelli - Pop in for some ice-cream to go. You won't regret it. Not unless you're dairy-intolerant.
Lemon Jelly - Eat at the Northside branch, not the Temple Bar one. It's a good place to snack. Oddly, their take-away coffee is rubbish, but inside it's fine.
Cafe Cagliostro - Very nice coffee and hot chocolate.

Recent reading.

2007-12-14T15:46:00.000Z

On average, I read about thirty books a year. (Yes, I know I could be doing better. Blame the internet and my socialising.) That works out at roughly a book per fortnight, but averages are misleading. I tend to read several books in a burst, before going through a long lull. I picked up and read a bundle of books while travelling this fall, but once I returned, my brain clogged up for three or four weeks. I've only just got back in the reading habit.

Anyway, while I redraft my next post proper, I'll tell you what I was reading over the last ten weeks. Oh yes... definitely a highlight of the blog, this post.

The Economic Consequences of the Peace - John Maynard Keynes
The Canon - Natalie Angier
Cicero - Anthony Everitt
The Worldly Philosophers - Robert Heilbroner
JPod - Douglas Coupland
The Outsider - Albert Camus
The Americanization of Benjamin Franklin - Gordon Wood
Northern Protestants: An Unsettled People - Susan McKay
Death Sentences - Don Watson
Disgrace - J.M. Coetzee
The Imperial Presidency - Arthur Schlesinger
From Babel to Dragomans - Bernard Lewis

Of the twelve, Death Sentences was the solitary disappointment. The first third was good, but the rest of the book was incoherent and muddied the writer's thesis. In contrast, Disgrace and The Imperial Presidency were exceptional works.

You can tell that I've a strong bias toward non-fiction; just three of the twelve books were novels. Continuing the trend, four of the five books I ordered last night are works of history, philosophy or politics. Sandor Marai's Embers is the lone novel.