In case you're wondering, and frankly even if you're not, today I had 6 cigarettes. I probably could have stopped at 5 and tomorrow I plan to. Speaking of tomorrow I need to go to the DMV, turns out my license expired this year on my birthday -- and that was a few days ago. I hope they don't make me take the test.
The SF WorldCon is happening next week in Glasgow, Scotland. Some day I'm going to make it to one of those. Instead I'll be at the Vegas Star Trek convention the week after. I expect that I'll be able to read about WorldCon in various posts in other places...I'll have to scour the web.
I read an article today about a female sales executive who lost her job and has sued her employer alleging that her termination was based on unlawful discrimination.
The thing that astonishes me is that they fired her after she lost 3 of her quadruplets. Shocking enough if she had lost them all at once but even more heartrending is that she lost two of them, then a third before she finally carried the fourth to term. Maybe the company legally had grounds to terminate. Maybe it was a "solid business decision" But didn't anyone think "PR disaster?" It makes this company look really bad and frankly they're going to have a hard time spinning it in any positive direction. I can't begin to comprehend what her boss and ultimately HR was thinking. If this goes before a jury the company that fired her is hosed. I bet they settle and quickly. My advice: get cash, not stocks.
Still not up to writing about the rest of the Ireland trip. Once I get feeling guilty enough it will happen.
Before I get back to trying to document for posterity my trip to Ireland I'd like to share something I'm trying to do. I decided a couple weeks ago to try and quit smoking. I went to my doctor about something unrelated and asked him if I could try to quit using Zyban. After we talked for awhile about it he agreed and wrote me the prescription. He suggested that my plan be to gradually decrease the number of cigarettes I smoke each day over time.
I must admit that the first week I didn't decrease much, maybe one or two less a day. Then I started consciously telling myself anytime I felt like a smoke to just wait another half hour. That usually stretched out some and yesterday I didn't have my first cigarette until 2:00 in the afternoon.
Lest you think this is because I slept in I'll state for the record that I woke up at 8 am. Deferring the morning smoke is very hard. Also not having a smoke after I eat. So anyway I had 13 cigarettes in my pack (oh, I'm buying them one pack at a time, too) this morning from a pack that was newly opened yesterday, that means I only smoked 7 cigarettes on Sunday.
It's 7 pm Monday night and I have 6 left so that means I've only smoked 7 so far today. I'll try to only have 1 or 2 more before bed. Then tomorrow I need to try and skip either the smoke in the car on the way to work or the morning break smoke. The latter might be easier because I have a bunch of meetings in the morning and probably won't have time to go downstairs and outside. I should also try and skip either the afternoon break or the drive home smoke - I was able to skip that one today. Anyway by the end of the week I'd like to be down to just 5 a day. If I can do that I think I can quit all the way.
In unrelated musings, I noticed something today as I was reading the blogs I've bookmarked as favorites. (another tangent: cool thing about Firefox, you can drag the icon beside the url down to a row in the browser called 'bookmark toolbar' and put your favorite favorites right there so they are easy to find and use)
I'm sure everyone else has noticed it and like always I'm the last one to get it. A lot of blogging is about other blogs. Blogging about something you've read in a blog or linking to a blog or a comment in it that caused the blogger to want to have their own extended piece of the conversation and their own comments. Don't get me wrong, I don't object to this at all. I discovered a number of my new favorites because an old favorite linked to them and said "you should read this blog" and I did.
I would take some time here and now to talk about how smart and witty and interesting some of these blogs are and the comments to them as well, but MacAllister has already done it so much better. (see July 7th for her post Smart People)
I used to think I was fairly smart, at least above average. I had a college degree (yeah, English Lit, wanna make something of it?) and I read voraciously in a number of genres as well as non-fiction. I kept up on the news by reading newspapers instead of watching TV (this was in the late 70s early 80s btw so I didn't have the internet like I do today).
After college I ended up working in a series of jobs where some of the skills I learned were useful (good grammar, attention to detail, interpreting what I'd read) but many of my colleagues while not unintelligent, were not intellectual. They didn't read much and got snotty or defensive if I tried to have a conversation about substantial topics or even about something I'd read in a book. I don't discount that I might have come off as pompous and annoying, I probably was, but since I didn't find *any* kindred souls it does make me think that maybe it wasn't entirely my fault.
At home my husband (now ex) was totally engaged in becoming a lawyer and then actually being a lawyer. He didn't want to talk about literature or philosophy or even politics, at least with me.
So at some point in my twenties I stopped exercising my intellect. I continued to read but I didn't have anyone to talk about my reading with. Iron sharpens iron. If you don't have anyone to challenge your thinking it atrophies.
I think mine did. I now feel very much less intelligent than most of the commenters on the blogs I read. And there are some people who take great pleasure in calling condescention in their responses to something I've posted "candor" and making me feel inadequate to the conversation even when I don't think I've said anything stupid. Thus I will probably not try to post in any thread that discusses current events or anything weighty. I know my place in the world and it's all fluff.
I know I need to finish the edits on the last post and get on with the rest of the trip. There is so much to write about! Each day was jam-packed. I've pretty much given all my creative energy to work the past week and each evening when I've come home the house has been baking all day. With no air-conditioning it's just too hot to do anything but sit and moan about how hot it is.
I do intend to write about the rest of the trip. Just as soon as it cools off.
I've gone through my memorabilia to jog my memory of day 2 in Dublin. I think this may be a long one. We did a lot in one day.
Our travel agent (or Brendan, not sure) printed us up a lovely little booklet with our itinerary. I left one copy in my office in case of emergency and each of us had our own. I am using this and all the stuff I collected to help re-construct my days in Ireland.
Got up, showered and grabbed the hair drier provided by the hotel. No outlets in the bathroom except a little one "for shavers only". This thing had three prongs in a huge round plug. I had to dry my hair in the bedroom. After that I needed to curl my bangs which were a bit long and if left straight effectively blinded me. I had brought a transformer and adapter plug for my curling iron and any other electronics we needed to use. The transformer didn't seem to want to work. So I plugged my curling iron into the adapter, plugged it into the wall and the second it got hot enough (which was VERY QUICKLY) unplugged it and curled what I could till it got too cold, then repeated till finished. I didn't think this was too good for the curling iron but I didn't have another option (I thought at the time). Now dressed and primped I was ready to go down and eat then climb aboard our coach for our Dublin guided tour.
Every day started with "a Full Irish Breakfast." This I came to find would be eggs, back bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, fried tomatoes and something called black and white pudding and close by, a steaming tureen of Irish Oatmeal. Most often the Full Irish Breakfast was provided in a buffet in the dining room. There were also breads, juices, cereals, fruit. Every hotel's buffet was lovely and well attended to with the chafing dishes staying warm and full and juice pitchers never going empty.
Re: the black and white pudding. On the link above you can see disks of dark brown and medium beige on the plate. I didn't try them as I had heard that puddings in Ireland as in England were not the same thing we Americans call pudding. I have discovered since (Google is your friend) that traditional black pudding is made primarily from blood, suet and oatmeal, whereas traditional white pudding is simply oatmeal and suet with a traditional blend of spices. I also looked up suet. Suet is twice rendered beef fat strained through cheesecloth at each rendering then you can store it cool in the refrigerator or even freeze it. I will allow each gentle reader to determine for themselves that I should not have passed up the puddings.
After breakfast we all get on the coach which, as it was July 4th, Niven had decorated with red, white and blue crepe paper ribbons and balloons and little plastic American Flags. I kept a flag and have it with my memorabilia.
Niven introduced us to Christie who is our tour guide for the day's tour of Dublin. We had heard a bit about Christie the night before but I think most of us were expecting a female. Christie was a white haired gentleman who looked to be coming up on 70 or maybe even a teeny bit past it. He was wonderful. Encyclopedic memory, great anectdotes. And, finally, an Irish accent!
We drove all over and Christie told us stories from Dublin's history and stories of the Irish struggle against the English. We heard about the Famine times and the various uprisings and how finally the Irish became an independent Republic. We learned why the General Post Office was an historical building as well as heard why the building right across the street from our hotel has no windows but the ceiling is a huge skylight. If you really want to know the answers I can tell you what I learned...just ask in comments.
After about an hour of driving our first stop was St. Patrick's Cathedral. I was surprised to learn that St. Patrick's in Dublin is not a Catholic cathedral, it's Church of Ireland (Anglican). It is an amazing building inside and out. The original construction dates back to about 1190AD and the Guinness family restored the cathedral in 1864. It was quite crowded that day and Christie tried to guide us about where the crowds were thinnest.
Inside we first went to see some stones that had Celtic Crosses carved on them and were purported to be well cap stones from St. Patrick's Well. The stones were found in 1901 and were over the remains of an ancient well that had been in constant use through the 16th century. Tradition has it that St. Patrick baptized people with water from this well.
Christie told us the well was outside the building not under the capstones or under the cathedral. I think my father was disappointed. We took pictures. Christie took us over to various areas and one of the highlights for me were all of the Jonathan Swift items. Glenn took some good pictures although the one of the intricate wooden scale model also has my behind in it. Another item is called the Door of Reconciliation which has an interesting history as well as being a good photo op. We took pictures. Erin and I bought some stuff at the gift shop just at the exit to the Cathedral, this was where I started stocking up on postcards. Oh, got a bookmark too, green leather with gold embossing of the cathedral and its seal. Outside the cathedral we took pictures.
Back on the bus and over to Kilmainham Gaol. This edifice is unoccupied and preserved as a national historic monument and has been the location for a number of films, which has helped in maintaining it's upkeep. We took pictures. The history of the Gaol is the history of Irish struggles. I bought a thin book at the museum shop which gives the historical perspective. Many of the prisoners there were leaders of uprisings against the English. During the Famine it was crowded to overflowing. In the last years before the founding of the Republic many of the heroes of Ireland spent time in Kilmainham Gaol, and some died there as well.
I honestly have never been very interested in Irish history, until now. Standing in that prison, walking through the hallways and into cells, hearing the stories the young (and exceptionally cute) tour guide told (and *yes* with a beautiful Irish accent!) did inspire me to want to learn more.
After Kilmainham the coach took us to Trinity College. Trinity is about a block away from the hotel so Niven parted from us there and we had the rest of the day to ourselves. We were to meet him in front of the hotel later for our drive out to the Abbey Tavern for a traditional Irish dinner and evening of Irish dance and song.
Trinity College Library houses the 8th Century Book of Kells. We walked through the self guided exhibition and ended up at the Book. We did not take pictures. It wasn't allowed. Not in a roped off case -- it was in a glass topped table display and you could stand right over it and look right down at it, standing inches away. It was lovelier than I imagined. The artistry is nothing short of amazing and the colors are still distinct and appealing. I think it's the closest I've ever gotten to this kind of an artifact.
More gift store shopping, massive post card purchasing. Then we were on our own. Being rather hungry we went in search of a place for lunch. We ended up at an Italian cafe. I had spaghetti bolognaise, Glenn had a burger and fries, Erin had salad. The Irish must not like garlic. The spaghetti was the blandest I'd ever had. Glenn wanted katsup for his fries. I caught the waitresses attention and asked for some. I got the oddest look, I think she thought I was going to put it on my spaghetti and was releived when I gave it to Glenn. The food was filling at least and fueled us for another hour of walking and shopping.
So here's where I can't remember exact sequences of events so I'll just sort of free associate. Oh, we took pictures. Erin wanted a watch and we wandered thru a number of stores - in one she found a purse (overpriced) and I bought it for her, we looked in Marks and Spencer (reminds me of Macy's) then finally in a medium sized clothing store which catered to a young crowd -- hard to think of a comparison -- we found one and the gal at the register sounded American, so I asked. She was from Canada. More wandering, ended up at the end of the street and there was St. Stephen's Green. We went in a bit took pictures, walked out, it was very very busy everywhere that day. Damn tourists. Headed back. I wanted a picture of the Molly Malone statue (click on the picture in the link to see a larger image) but it was always surrounded by people standing and sitting on it. Passed some antique stores with windows full of old silver serving dishes and tea sets and china. I drooled a bit. Just before we ran out of shops we saw a jewelry store and went in to see if they had the Fusion Claddagh" we'd seen in advertisements and that Glenn really liked. Yep. I bought one for Glenn and he got one for me. The link back there in the last sentence is the web site of the jewelry store we went to and there's also a link to the history of the Claddagh on the page.
We got back to the hotel in time to rest and then freshen up for the trip to the Abbey Tavern. The Tavern is a bit of a drive out of town. It was drizzling a bit but at one point because of the rain there was a gorgeous rainbow over the water (we were driving around a harbor). At the Tavern we were seated at great tables right in front of the stage. After a lovely Irish meal with either Salmon or Corned Beef and a dessert of apple tart with fresh cream the entertainment began. First were three Irish dancers, two women and a man. They were amazing. It's hard to believe feet can fly that fast. Then a group of older fellows and a fairly young lady came out and sang Irish songs -- for well over an hour. One of my nephews was invited up on the stage to hold the Bodhran and he did just long enough for us to get a couple good pictures but stage fright eventually took over. A bit later he and his brother came up again and stood up there for a little while. I bought a couple of tee-shirts. We went back to the hotel and fell into an exhausted sleep. The next morning we'd head south with our first stop in Kildare at the Irish National Stud Farm.
I did warn you this would be long...right? Thanks for hanging in to the end.
Looking for a book publisher?
Don't get a scam publisher.
If you want to publish, America
--don't sign up with PublishAmerica!
I've been back from Ireland a week now. The dining room table which served as a final staging area for the last bits of packing and organizing is still covered with piles of stuff. The luggage is only partially unpacked and lying on the floor beside said table. (Since the laundry closet is in the hall behind the dining room this makes some sense but is mostly due to lethargy, illness and a malaise in general about the whole meaning of life, but that's for someother post someother day -- oh and it's been very warm here and we don't have air conditioning --ok, list of excuses over with)
I've returned home with many postcards, pictures, some jewelry and a number of souvenirs to go thru and organize, and soon, before it all becomes a fuzzy blur - blog about here.
One of my favorite knick knacks is a lucite disc which contains a drop of Guinness from the Dublin Guinness Storehouse. This was a giveaway from our first stop on our first day.
We arrived at Dublin Int'l the morning of Sunday July 3rd staggering through the airport weak from the 7 hour flight from Chicago O'Hare. Glenn noted that our boarding passes had the code "S" on them. He says that means Steerage. I agree. This is ironic, my ancestors left Ireland in Steerage and we come back in the modern day version. Well, without the death and disease...airline food and turbulence? OK, it's not really irony. I wonder why do airlines feel that they have to pack us in like sardines? My legs are still stiff.
Luggage took awhile but was uneventful (my sister's bag had been lost coming from LA to Chicago and arrived a day late so we figured that satisfied the fates and we were right) Customs was a guy sitting in a booth watching us walk by. No checks or declarations. However, before we could get through customs or to the luggage we had to go through Immigration. My brother had chosen a line and we went to stand with him. The line that had said "EU passport holders only" changed to "all Passports" but we didn't move lines. Sister & family and Dad did, other (smart) people did and they all got out of the room before us. Our line was immobile. I'm not sure why it was so slow, everyone ahead of us looked like a normal tourist and there didn't seem to be any problems going on. It was just slow.
There had to have been over 100 people waiting to get thru that room and we weren't the last ones to get there. However we ended up as the last ones to get out. My brother confessed that he is cursed in this manner. Whatever line he chooses is always the one that takes the longest. I carefully took notice from then on and chose a different line whenever possible.
We met our guide and coach (no, not bus, coach) driver. Niven was nattily attired in a brown tweed jacket, shirt and tie, slacks - very debonair. He was Irish but since he was raised in Scotland he spoke with a Scots accent; he was about 50 with thick, mostly white hair in a long brushy cut. Initially I was disappointed in his accent, having hoped to be listening to someone speaking in an Irish brogue for the next week and a day, perhaps picking up a bit of a lilt in my own speech that would impress and amuse folks when I got home. No such luck.
I got over it quickly as Niven is an experienced guide and funny as hell. (BTW, I recommend Brendan tours as a result of Niven's fine work. I say, ask for Niven if you go to Ireland. I wish I had learnt his last name!)
Because we arrived in the morning our hotel rooms were not available yet. We dropped off our luggage while Niven made sure the arrangements were taken care of and then it was off to the Guinness Storehouse to kill a few hours. (btw, that link is different from the one above and is all about the storehouse itself, not just Guinness, as the prior link was)
The tour of the Storehouse is self guided, we get a short history lesson from an employee and are on our own after that. Inside is a museum of antique brewing equipment, signs and posters about brewing Guinness and some areas with a history of the labels, the promos, etc. There is also a wall where you can post a comment covered with expressions from around the world. Someone from Santa Cruz had been there just the day before.
You travel a number of floors upward to reach the final destination which is the Gravity Bar where you get your free pint. The Gravity Bar was very busy that morning - it was standing room only and not much of that. Where else should these people be on a Sunday in Dublin? Undoubtedly all tourists. I had my first taste of Guinness after waiting in a line that moved fairly fast considering you can't hurry the pouring if you want to keep the nice white head of foam on the pint. (oh, and I also wasn't standing anywhere near my brother)
Not bad. I'm not a big beer afficianado so I won't try to critique the beer. I wasn't expecting to like it though, and I did. I heard from everyone who spoke on the topic that the Guinness in Ireland has a unique taste and that nowhere else would I taste any like it. They don't pasturize it in Ireland and they do everywhere else (including Nigeria the third largest market after Ireland and England - yeah, I listened to the opening lecture.) One fellow I spoke with, might have been a bartender, did say that the canned Guinness in the US, served very cold, was close and passable.
We bought a few souvenirs there and got back on the coach. Niven told us about the city as we went through it, both on the way to Guinness and back so my recollection as written here isn't quite chronological. We heard about the Georgian townhomes and why the doors are painted different bright colors and about some of the heroes of the Irish Republic after which various statues were erected and streets were named. The "Spire of Dublin" nicknamed Millenium Spike (among other things - read link below) sits on the site which formerly housed the Nelson Pillar on O'Connell St. which was blown up in 1966 by the IRA. There is more info on the spire here so I won't try to give you any details except to say it doesn't fit. Here is a town of low rooftops and old architecture. It is gradually morphing into a more modern city but it's not all glass and steel and concrete yet. This blatantly modern monument just looks dumb. Dubliners have a number of nicknames for it, my favorite is "the stiffy by the Liffey" do scroll down the page on the link just above and read the other nicknames.
I was rather more impressed by the statue of Father Theobald Mathew a 19th century temperence movement leader. Apparently temperance and Irish aren't mutally exclusive terms, although I bet you could win some bar bets with the facts and figures. (Google is your friend) Folks routinely try to perch a can of Guinness in his hand which is missing its fingers from all the attempts. (perhaps this is a Dublin Urban Myth, makes a good story anyway, so I'll perpetuate it)
Back at the the Westin they had put my son and daughter up in a room with one double bed and they were very slow about getting that fixed. My son was extremely tired and decided to wait for them to do the room while the rest of us went for early dinner (it was about 3). The story of the kids' rooms (yep, happened more than once) is worth its own post, might actually do that. I will say that jet lagged son sitting in 5 star hotel lobby and jet lagged Mom wanting to tear someone's head off were not pretty sights. At one point I was telling some poor soul behind the desk that I really didn't give a damn if the room hadn't been fully cleaned, I wanted the housekeeper out and my son in. Didn't get them to budge one bit.
We wandered down Temple Street because we'd been told would have some fine places to eat and ended up at a restaurant called Thunder Road. Yep. first day in Ireland and we're eating Americanized food. It was good though and that's all that counted.
After dinner it was back to the hotel and off to sleep. That's day one on the old sod.
Oh, and lest I forget, I'm shamelessly stealing this idea from MacAllister's "Stones in the Field" blog:
"Looking for a scam publisher! If you want to publish, America -- don't sign up with PublishAmerica!"
adding a link to a good post called Macmilllan or Publish Brittanica" from a blog I recommend