Just Like Merrion Square Blues

There's been an arc of feeling throughout this trip. The first one, as my plane landed and I boarded my train to the west of Ireland, was one of relief. The two weeks off stretched before me, and over and over again I sighed deeply, feeling the tension and worry start to drop away, stubbed out like a finished cigarette.

Midway through week one I started getting that anxious feeling, wanted to get home and get back to work. Missed my kids, missed the Midwest. Knew this would pass, and worked through it. I knew I came this far away for a reason, so that I wouldn't drop the tools and leave the job and just head back home. I came this far so that I could look back on everything from a proper distance, to better judge it all.

The week in Dingle ended and I packed it all up and got on the train again. A week was enough, but it's a lovely town, and there's a strong reason why I've gone there three times in the past year. "Time doesn't seem to pass here: it just is. A remarkable place altogether," said Bilbo once.

Spent an interlude with some friends just outside of Dublin, but still I thought of home. For a while I had thought about coming home early, and columned the costs of either staying, or changing the flight booking. Economy won out, but also the knowledge that it must be fight, not flight, when faced with these thoughts.

The last day or so has been in the city centre, Dublin city. No more sea air, no more apartment life, no more home-cooked meals by myself or my hosts. The hotel and the streets are my home. And now a new feeling: familiarity and comfort.

The city can be a bit oppressive, with the crowds and the beggars and the tourists and buses, but strangely I seem to be finding myself happiest and most content here. Maybe it's the time away that's finally sinking in, but I think I'm getting used to Life over here.

On my list of Ten Things To Do, #10 was, "look into maybe finding meaningful work over here." And I even found this, thanks to Issy. The interviews aren't until early March, and they said they weren't able to meet with me earlier, even for a friendly chat, so, well, there it is. Best that the job goes to someone around here anyways, considering the state of affairs here.

I've got a couple of days left here, and I'm still very ready to head home, but there was a moment tonight, sitting in a pub, sharing a drink with Elisa, when Issy arrived, telling tales of an old double-decker bus, that I felt very much at home. Donal arrived shortly after, tired after a long day, and we went to a show, and chewed and debated it afterwards in an old Dublin hotel bar, cracking jokes and enjoying the time together.

It was a lovely night.

A Rainy Night in Dublin

Neuwirth's sleeping one off after too much fun last night. We blew into Dublin in the late afternoon and checked in to our hotel. The gentleman at the desk said "two twin beds, yes?" although when we got to the room there was only one double bed. Um, no, seriously, we need two beds. Please.

Hazards of two men traveling together, I suppose.

Hurried over to The Stag's Head, where I met a former student of mine (and founding Limelight member) Jaclyn, who's been doing an internship in Dublin all summer. Unless I'm mistaken, this will be the first time I've ever bought a beer for a former student.

She left after a short catch-up to go enjoy her final night in Ireland before flying home, back to school. We sat and drank in the corner for a bit before Elimare and The Gurrier strolled in, followed later by Linus and Issy. More drinks were consumed, with dinner being something to laugh at, something maybe to accomplish before the night was over. More drinks.

9:00 pm approached, and Annie heralded her arrival via text message. Shortly thereafter two hands were slapped on my shoulders and there she was, and this strange Irish-Welsh-American blog universe was almost complete. Almost.

Caught up with Annie for a bit, then finally decided to get some food. Conor, her boyfriend, appeared briefly, but then headed home to recover from some L.A.-induced jet lag. Wound up back at a Japanese restaurant I had been to before and ordered seafood Ramen and a Tiger beer. Tiger? Sure.

The Dublin pubs were overflowing, although I was told that this was light compared to what it's usually like. Recession, you know.

More drinks.

Seafood ramen doesn't absorb much, just so you know.

At some point I think Linus decided to sove the recession difficulties by deciding to be my fake-gay-husband so that he could get a U.S. green card. I may have accepted this proposal.

Annie disappeared, then Linus, then the rest of us called it a night. Neuwirth and I wandered back to our hotel on Merrion Square and collapsed on two twin beds.

I'ts now almost two in the afternoon and he's still under the covers.

Rookie.


Lots of stories from the trip that are still to be told. Just thought I'd check in. Newwirth's up and moving around after a much-needed rest, so it's time to check out Dublin.

Galway, 9:15 pm

Galway is all about familiarity, and favorite places. Dinner at Roberta's in Salthill, amazing Italian food on the Galway Bay. The Rosin Dubh for pints and conversation, although not this time. They're ripping out the place and remodeling; instead of the cozy pub bar with books lining the shelves and plenty of places for talking, it's a three-tired Late Bar now, with a brand-new beer garden and a greater emphasis on its performance space. (Arlo Guthrie plays tomorrow night, and Camera Obscura are on for Saturday night.)

Galway is one of the fastest-growing cities in Europe, so change comes to everything, and the new Dubh will be a great place, but it's still sad to see the old set-up gone. Had a nice long conversation with the Aussie barmaid with gorgeous Asian features, though. She's on a year visa in Ireland, hanging out and moving from place to place.

My face is sunburned and my remaining hair is windswept from the after-affects of riding a bike around Inis Mor today, one of the famed Aran Islands. Strolled around a prehistoric fort and wandered through several shops selling the authentic Aran sweaters. Won't tell if I bought anything or not.

Heading to Dublin tomorrow and dinner with the bloggers. Tried Glen the other night but he couldn't hear me, most likely sitting in a pub watching hurling.

And then Thursday I make the long attempt to get home. In the UK the restrictions have been lifted slightly, but I'm not sure what Dublin Airport and US Airways have in store for me. If I can bring a book on board the flight I'll be happy. Finished Bob Dylan's Chronicles as I was sailing into Rosslare harbor, but that's been replaced by the only other book Pete McCarthy wrote before he died. Saw it in a Cardiff rail station bookstore and thought it would make a good read. So I'm one of those guys whose reading a book about travel (Irish-themed, no less) while he's traveling, but it works for me because it helps me get in the mind-set of a solo traveler writing about what he sees, which I've been doing in excelsis. Might make a good book someday.

I think pictures and a more detailed version of the trip will commence once I'm home, in order for it to be done properly. There's a cover tonight at the bar so maybe I'll head somewhere else or just call it a night.

Oh, yeah, I haven't arranged for a ride home from the airport yet. This Thursday around 5:00, that is if the flight isn't delayed. Anyone willing to help me out? I'll buy you an authentic Aran sweater...