Road Diaries: Prologue

August Seventh.
Last year, on August Seventh I woke up while it was still dark, did my last minute packing, and hopped in the blue van to the airport. I was Dublin-bound, and sixteen hours later I stumbled off a bus in the middle of Ireland's capitol city at about half-seven in the morning. So began a five-and-a-half month frolic through Ireland's hills and cliffs and coasts, punctuated by days full of walking around Europe's most famous cities and trying to speak French or German or Italian. My best luck was with French. My German garners giggles.
This year, August Seventh brings another early departure of a similar but not identical kind- a different breed of the same species, perhaps.
Tomorrow, I am getting into a car with a friend of mine, and for three weeks (engine willing) it will carry us around the network of friends and family who have spread out over the great expansive country that is the USA. If I geographically plotted the locations of people dear to me, and transferred it from this continent over to Europe, they'd probably be in over a half-dozen different countries, with a few more in between each of them.
What does all this American land look like? How much corn really IS in Iowa? And do New Yorkers really walk as fast as people say? How's the Mexican food in New Mexico? Heck, I'm seeing every extreme from Nebraska to Manhattan. Pacific to Atlantic and back again.
I don't know why the idea came to me this year. It just settled into my head in the calm way that most reality does, like noticing that there's a grocery store down the road. Oh hey, there's a Safeway. A fact learned. And oh, looks like I'm driving across the country this August. Just a fact that settled itself into my brain as nonchalantly as the most mundane of observations.
I intend to document all of my destinations, and hopefully some of what happens in between. Much of the next three weeks will be spent in between. In places in between places. But they all are places, destinations or not. Strange how simple a realization that is, and yet it only came to me today.
I remember that Dublin even felt to me like an in between place. I knew I would be elsewhere at some point in the future, and it somehow kept me from experiencing the place completely. And it was an in-between place where I lingered for almost half a year. Experiencing the in-between fully, as a real place, will be even more of a challenge when I am moving constantly, in my own little bubble of metal doors and glass windows and radio music. And yet I am excited about it.
Tomorrow, August Seventh, the journey begins

First Concert

       The child stood rapt with attention, the most motionless a toddler has ever been in my experience- perhaps in the history of toddlers. He stood with his feet planted on the pavement, leaning forward intently, brows knitted in focus and fascination as he looked slightly upward. For the entire duration of the famous song "Time to Say Goodbye," he stood like this, focused in apparent wonder as a violinist played.
      The violinist knelt down, the young boy standing barely a foot away. Earlier the musician had been flitting about with surprising nimbleness, a showman playing to various people in the circle surrounding him; but now he played almost exclusively for the little boy who had deliberately walked right up to him where he played in Downtown Disney, adjacent to Disneyland Resort in Anaheim.
     The strains of the song made famous by Andrea Bocelli flowed from the violin. The man didn't look like a classical musician- dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt and sporting sunglasses- but he played brilliantly. A young woman ran to get her mother, and they promptly pulled out their cameras to snap images as the musician played before the child, apparently a member of their family.
     Smiles and chuckles began to circulate throughout the small gathered audience as we all watched the little boy and the violinist. At first we giggled and said "aw, how cute..." but as the child remained still in the center of the circle, silently watching nothing but the violinist, people became more earnest- focused and entranced just like he was.
    The violinist stood up for the last flourishes of the song- wonderfully delicate high notes as the music came to an end. And we burst into applause.
   The child stood in the middle, and for the first time he began to look about slowly with that wide-eyed look peculiar to toddlers. And eventually, we all saw his hands coming together too, applauding.
   There were more than a few teary-eyed glances exchanged between strangers as we dispersed. The family got autographs and some moments with the musician, and the rest of us got a reminder about the meaning of life, of joy, of music.



Note: I would love to have included a photo, but I decided not to intrude on the family's privilege and privacy, and I let them take all the photos of this lovely moment. I hope you can imagine it for yourselves :-)
   

Alive in Portland

How do I begin to describe Portland?
I think... Portland is the result of "what ifs" becoming true.
You know, all those incredibly awesome ideas you think of when you're daydreaming or driving or delirious or stoned. "Dude... what if we started a restaurant where you could make your pancakes at your own fucking table. Like, I could make bacon and cheese pancakes. We'd use squirt bottles.Yeah... squirt bottles..."

I am, by the way, describing a restaurant named Slappy Cakes, where you can order from a selection of pancake batters served up in squirt bottles, and you cook them at the communal griddle in the middle of your table, with whatever toppings you want.

"Dude... what if we just sold waffles out a fuckin' window." Waffle Window is another of those brilliant "what ifs" come true.

Portland is famous for its food, and I can see why. But the attitude carries over. What if we just randomly started painting street art at intersections? What if I decide I want to declare my own gender? What if I feel like learning to speak Estonian?

It's all possible in Portland. Not that it is impossible anywhere else- we are all agents in our lives. But the crisp Portland air is giddy with this sense of what ifs within our reach, whether they are served up in food pods or sold in Powell's Books or celebrated by gender-bending dance workshops. Maybe it's the clean northern air, maybe it's the unusually high proportion of hippies in the population, maybe the awesome food is part of a feedback loop perpetually increasing creativity and inspiration.

Who knows, with all the trees up there maybe it's just the extra oxygen stimulating our brains. But the fact that so many things I have dreamed of actually exist in Portland... things that seem too good for real life, like 3-story used bookstores and peanut butter frappes, makes me realize that we can make things happen. We can declare and create what we want in our lives, rather than thinking "oh that is too awesome to actually exist."

And that peanut butter frappe even came with non-dairy whipped cream. My sense of vegan deprivation was shattered. Indeed, the awesome is possible.

I know I talked about food a lot, but this goes for all things in life - for building community, for pursuing equality of human rights, for protecting the environment, for starting a band, for whatever gets you going.

Never rule something out because it seems too good to ever become true.

Things I missed about California

Ah California, it's good to be back! Here's what I am enjoying most:

Blue sky. I can dry my clothes outdoors even in winter!

Picking oranges from my tree for breakfast- and they're big enough to get full on!

Chipotle. Americanised Mexican food is something I missed so terribly! Oh for a great big burrito with black beans and rice and guacamole that is actually green...

Avocadoes. You know, the ones that are black on the outside and have nice flavourful green deliciousness on the inside. I didn't know there were avocadoes lacking those traits, until they were the only kind of avocado I could find Ireland. Oh great guacamole! It is thee I have come back for!

Spanish. It's on signs, it's in airport announcements, it's in the air. And it's the kind of Spanish I actually understand! (The European Spanish accent takes some getting used to...)

Country music. Twang, cliches and all.

Driving. Driving is fun! You can go wherever you want, (just about) as fast as you want, and you never have to run to flag down your own car! Or share it with people who smell like cigarettes.

Did I mention the blue sky? Sunshine? Because I can't get enough of it right now!

Thanks for being my home, Cali.

Leaving Ireland- written 15th January 2012

As I write the green rolling countryside flies by me, same as it did the first time I took this train ride across Ireland back in August. I am en route to Dublin, where I will spend one more night before boarding a plane bound for the US. Somehow it seems right to be in motion as I say my goodbyes to this country.

It’s not a matter of saying goodbye to Ireland so much as it is of saying goodbye to the little things that have made this place home.

Albert College Park

Of the many blessings we can be given in life, the privilege of living near a beautiful park is perhaps one of the best. Albert College Park is adjacent to DCU, and a quick walk away from my Santry apartment. It is here that I can come to see the sloppy panting grin of a dog playing fetch in a vast green field. Dogs are supposed to be on leashes in the park but nobody pays attention to that, and they run free and play with each other without ever seeming to give anybody any trouble. I have never met a mean Irish dog. Nor have I met very many whose owners confine them with leashes.

Albert College Park is where I can go for my morning runs, where I see children playing football with their grandparents on Sunday afternoons, where pink girls’ tricycles get mud on their tires. I have seen scavenger hunts and photography club outings, young women strolling together as they push their wide-eyed children along in buggies, old men shuffling for a walk as they talk in a low mumbling sing-song of an accent in which the only word I can pick out is “Guinness”. 

It is a truly beautiful place.

I’ll miss Albert College Park. Goodbye for now.

The Statues of Dublin

Rock on, Jim Larkin 

Molly, Jim, Daniel, James, the whole lot of ye (sorry for those of you not mentioned, you can be certain I miss you all).

You bear the bullet-holes of Ireland’s past, you inspire us to figure out who the heck you are, and you provide tourists with endless photo-ops.

Molly, congratulations on being one of the most photographed statues in the world. I think your figure may have something to do with it. Too bad that dancing leprechaun never leaves you alone. I bet that gets annoying. I’ll miss you girl!

She wheeled a wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow, crying cockles and mussels alive, alive-o!

All the rest of ye- I’ll see you again someday. I know you’ll be sticking around for a while.

Shakeaway

Hot, cold, big, small, thick, thin, fruity, chocolatey, sweety, biscuity, everything-elsey… those are the kinds of milkshakes one can get at Shakeaway. I wonder how much time I have spent over the past 5 ½ months staring at the hundreds of options, trying for that sublime milkshake experience every time and never being disappointed. The staff are milkshake gurus, the ingredients are real, and I had better stop writing this before the craving for yet another high-calorie masterpiece overcomes me…. Too late, I might have to get another taste of Shakeaway once this train gets to Dublin. Do I want a Sylvia? A Jack? A hot Norah or a large Ben? Or do I want to try my hand at making up a mix myself? That’s half the fun J Shakeaway, please come to America. I need you.

The River Liffey

Oh the Liffey. A stroll along your banks is at times picturesque, at other times laughable. It’s not your fault people throw shopping carts and car tires into you. And you still look lovely at night, when the lights of Dublin reflect on your rippling surface. Every city needs its river, and you suit Dublin perfectly. I wonder what you look like up in the mountains, though, without the concrete banks, famous bridges, and city garbage. You’re a character, o River Liffey. I bet you would have one hell of a Dublin accent if you could speak. Good bye for now! I’ll look for you from above when that plane takes off tomorrow, making its way toward the Atlantic. Oh, and thanks for being the background photo on my computer, you look great there. 


Grafton Street

Stay classy, Grafton Street.

Always crowded, always colorful. A walk down Grafton Street is always a little romantic, a little chaotic, and very fulfilling. This is a place to people-watch for hours, to get the best gelato I've ever found outside of Rome (or a good dose of Shakeaway from St. Stephen's Green), and to listen to street buskers ranging from the pathetic to the sublime. 

Signs, signs, everywhere signs...

Okay- that last post was very energy-intensive, so it's time for a lighter one!

There are lots of signs in Europe, and most are just things you squint at trying to figure out where to go, but  some make you do a double take. Here is my archive of signs worth all the funny looks I get for taking pictures of them. 

A bar in Vienna, Austria. People are allowed to drink wine and beer at age 16, and everything else at 18.  If you break the law, though... 

Dublin, Ireland. What on earth does this sign mean? To run under flying cars? To jump your car over running pedestrians? I find the spatial relationship of the icons open to all sorts of interpretations...

Near my apartment in Santry, Dublin. Tell me- what do you think this means? To me, it seems to say I should poop on the footpath if my dog does...

But upon further reading, that is not, in fact, the case...

Dublin is a very pedestrian-friendly city.

Cork, Ireland- where the signs are ambiguous and the people are clever.  

On the Metro in Rome. I think it's a series of informational signs about the characteristic Roman Metro dance moves... all to be done without touching the doors with your hands. When in Rome...

The elevator in the Eiffel Tower. I am so grateful the pickpockets are red! Makes them much easier to spot. 

I have seen so much vegetarian propaganda that I forget where this is... somewhere in continental Europe. Anyway people, I DID. 3 years ago. So lay off. This isn't going to work on somebody out to get a burger, anyway. 

See what I mean? But at least the Romans show some enthusiasm!  This could totally become a cheer for Team Vegan. I see the fans shouting in unison already... "carne equals morte, GOOOOOO vegan!"

Howth, Ireland. Thanks so much for informing me, because otherwise I would never have noticed the sudden drop into the ocean.

Hope you all enjoyed that! And remember, inspiration comes in the most unexpected places :-)

Tá Cúpla Focal Agam: Páirte 1

Hello! It has been a while since I blogged. Dublin life is distracting, full of meetings and interviews and nights out and nights in. And lots of ice cream.
However, as I am going to Oireachtas na Samhna in a few days I figure it is the perfect time to lay out the Irish I have learned, and hope I remember it come this weekend.
I have been taking Irish classes through the Cumann na Gaeilge at DCU, but being the overzealous student I am I have also bought a book, and I travel everywhere with a dictionary trying to read the bilingual signs in the museums and on the streets. I've picked up a random smattering of the language, and included almost everything here with my best approximation of a pronunciation guide.

Disclaimer: There are several distinct varieties of Irish. You will quite possibly run into a fluent speaker who says things very differently!

Greetings

•  Hello: Dia duit  (día ghwich)
•  Hello (in response): Dia is Muire duit (día iss mwarih ghwich)
•  How are you?: Conas tá tú? (conas atah too)
•  How are you? (Connemara): Cenchaoi a bhfuil tú? (kenkwee a will too?)
•  How are you? (Donegal): Cad é mar atá tú? (cujaymur atah too)
•  I am well: Tá mé go maith (tah may guh mah)
•  I am wonderful: Tá mé go iontach (tah may guh eeuntuch)
•  I am excellent: Tá mé ar fheabhas (tah may ar yawuss)
•  I am not well: Níl mé go maith (neel may guh mah)
• Goodbye: Slán (slawn)

Introductions and Personal Information

•  What is your name?: Cad is ainm duit? (cud iss annum dwich?)
•  __ is my name: __ is ainm dom (iss annum dum)
•  I am (a) ____: Is mise ____ (Iss misha). E
• Example: Is mise Cortney means "I am Cortney." I can also say: Is mise mac léinn (iss misha mac lane), which means "I am a student." 
• Nice to meet you: Deas bualadh leat (djay-as booalah lat)
• Where do you live?: Cá bhfuil tú i do chónaí? (caw will too ih doh choney?)
•  note: think of the German sound of the name "Bach," with the ch in your throat. Say "honey" with that sound at the beginning, and you're pretty close.)
• I live in...: Tá mé i mo chónaí i... (taw may ih moh choney ih...)
• Example: Tá mé i mo chónaí i Meiriceá (America). 
• What is your phone number? Cad is d'uimhir teileafóin? (cud iss divver telephone?)
• My phone number is: M'uimhir teileafóin is...

• Note: numbers in next section!
• What is your address?: Cad is do sheoladh? (cud iss doh hyóla?)
• My address is: Mo sheoladh is... (muh hyóla iss...)
• What age are you?: Cén aois tú? (cain eesh who?)
• I am __ years of age: Tá mé ____ bliain d'aois (tah may ___ bleeun d'eesh).
• note: "bliain" changes spelling depending on your age. This is for people aged twenties onward). 
• examples: 
• I am twenty years of age: Tá mé fiche bliain d'aois. 
• I am twenty-two years of age: Tá mé dhá bhliain agus fiche d'aois (literally, I am two years and twenty of age). 

Numbers

• 0: náid (nawt)
• 1: (h)aon (ayun)
• 2: dó (doh)
• 3: trí (tree)
• 4: ceathair (ca-har)
• 5: cúig (coo-ig)
• 6: sé (shay)
• 7: seacht (shacht- think "shocked" but with that throaty ch instead of ck)
• 8: (h)ocht (acht- same as above)
• 9: naoi (nee)
• 10: deich (deh)    
• Note: when giving a number, like a phone number, say "a" before the numbers 1-10. It is in this case that aon and ocht become haon and hocht. 
• Example: M'uimhir teileafóin is náid, a dó, a trí, a sé...

Alright, that is a lot- be on the lookout for Páirte 2! Slán!