Confirmations and explorations

Soundtrack: Whitney Houston - "I'm not your baby tonight", proving a logical part of my new, very sudden and equally intense dance music passion (=addiction), which has resulted in numerous genre-related additions to my record collection, involving a.o. Madonna, Kylie, Annie and - Hercules and Love Affair. Love me a bit of boogie, as alwaus.

So, what have I been up to lately? It's been a while, I know; trust me - I am well aware of it; and it's been buggering me, but I've had my reasons. First and foremost, however, some of my absence is due to actual staying away - meaning, I've had the pleasure of travelling a bit recently. In fact, I've had myself a trip abroad - this very weekend - which was absolutely grand; a marvellous mix of necessary relaxation and tourist interest. Or "craic", as it were. Paid Mr. Correspondent a visit, over in Dublin, and spent 3 days in the beautiful, unique, old city that is the Irish capitol. Great to see my friend again as well. He's part of the ERASMUS student exchange program this semester, and attends political science courses at the UCD - that is, University College Dublin, or so he calls it. He's got hold of a nice little place to live, too, taking lodgings with a local landlady. Quite an achievement, actually, considering the housing market there at the moment, which is mad, making it extremely difficult to find residence that is at least fairly tolerable. Fortunately, he's been lucky. But he doesn't exactly have a lot of space, especially not for visitors, so we stayed at a hotel for the few days I was there. Conveniently located, nearby the Uni, we had just a few minutes bus ride to the city centre - and what a brilliant travelling spot that city is; truly; so charming, so peculiar, and perfectly reminiscent of to the notions one's got from the movies. As mentioned here, sometime before, I went to see "Once" earlier this year; the Oscar-nominated Irish film about two street musicians falling in love; and the impression you get from this film is almost identical to the real-life impressions of Dublin. I even came across the street were they'd filmed most of the initial outdoor scenes, the one with the red paving stones and small shops, and I spotted numerous artists and guitarists and accordionists, looking just like the characters depicted in this tale. Maybe not as talented, all of them, but definitely part of the same trend. And although I didn't particularly love the film, I do enjoy the music, and seeing it live and in action provided some of the magic that maybe was lost, to a certain extent, in the transfusion onto screen. Folk songs seem the most impressive, no doubt, when performed accoustically, right in front of you; by real, physically present people, not fictional figures on the silver screen; and live performances are the most appropriate way of communicating them too, I suppose. Still, I had an idea - beforehand - a set of mental imagery, regarding what I imagined Ireland to be like, and indeed; all my prejudice and expectations were proven to be true. For better and for worse. To emphasize, once more, this country's exactly what you've read and heard and seen; it's just as green, in between all that's been industrialized, it's modern, albeit very working class-ish too, and yes, they do have pubs on each and every corner. It's dirty, rugged, slightly old-fashioned, versatile and honest. People are straightforward, but polite, they are kind, if very frank. They call you "love", then ask you what's wrong with your hair. They behave correctly, with utmost concern, but not always that gently or discreety. But I liked them, I did, at least the ones I had the chance to get to know a bit. The hotel staff at the Montrose were for the most part excellent, but they lacked some service instincts at breakfast. Maybe because I couldn't eat their English überdish of sausages, bacon and beans; hence, they thought serving toast and tea immediately wasn't too crucial, and allowed themselves some slack. But my companion ordered the entire serving, and I would have expected something more from a hotel which, after all, charged us 30 euros for the whole meal. No kidding. Which reminds me: Ireland is terribly expensice. Up to Norwegian standards; food, clothes, music and such cost as much as it would here, if not more; and I was quite shocked and disappointed at this discovery. It really isn't too ideal for a poor student intending to spend a few days in holiday luxury, because it's supposedly so very cheap everywhere else, outside our borders, then having to improvise a new budget because her original ones do not suffice. That aside, the shopping opportunities as such were superb, and the shops amazing, and the shop assistants very friendly and helpful. So, in the end, the prices didn't matter that much and I exceeded my money limits considerably, because there was such amounts of nice things being offered. Like, DVDs and stuff. Western films, to be more specific. What else, they were on sale. Thus, I've now completed my Sergio Leone collection, adding thereto the rest of the Dollar Trilogy and "Fistful of Dynamite"; no wonder, I am quite content. Additionally, I bought "Secret Diary of a Call Girl", "Angel-A", "My Blueberry Nights: Special Edition"...all those classics I wouldn't get hold of back home, and most of which I've been searching for a long time already, not to mention they were all reasonably priced - as opposed to most other products, ironically. I adore HMV, Golden Discs, Tower Records, you name it. They're even open on Sundays! Absolutely fucking fantastic shopping opportunity, leaving me most satisfied with my bargains. Also, they had "Doctor Who" merchandice and memorablia everywhere; consequently, I - of course - had to spend a number of hours just walking about patting, stroking and gazing at the various DVDs, browsing through books and magazines, and, er, kissing Series 2 covers. Oh, those poor buyers, hope that's cooties they can handle. I simply couldn't resist. Anyways, and truth be told, I love being surrounded by those fabulous familiar cultural phenomenons (that I love, and always have loved), and finally have the chance to come face to face with them all; within their "own environment", rather than purchasing through the anonymousness that is Amazon. In fact, I love the entire Irish (and British) culture, the nature of their beings and doings. And I wholeheartedly cherish their pubs. For someone as dedicated a cafégoer as myself, Irish streets is Paradise on coffee-hungry-earth. Aside from the obvious (and obligatory) Starbucks, and 7-11-lookalike; but with better quality; Insomnia (who serve the best ever Moccas), we tried out a number of Irish specialities. Friday, we visited a Russian joint called "Pravda"; which - funnily enough - functions as the inspiration, in concept and naming, for the title of my old school paper ("Bravda") for which I was editor in chief (et al). Those striking co-incidences, eh? And they served some delicious Cappuccino too. Saturday was pub-nite big time, and we went to a lovely bar downtown which had leather chairs, great beer and live music; the latter from a guy with red beard and self-written songs, and a hoarse voice to die for. Lots of noise and action, all around, and perfect entertainment in itself; through the customers' keen, enthused presence and the bartenders' impeccable routine. Sat there for a couple of hours and just absorbed the atmosphere, and the sheer joy of the experience; which is representative for most of the activities I induldged in, whilst there, I simply joined in and embraced the sceneries. Very eventful, very affecting, granted a catalogue of long-lasting memories. As for the pub rounds; I was, again, reminded of the differences in drinking cultures, when watching Dubliners delight in a fresh pint, not bucketing down like there's no (chance) tomorrow. Scandinavians certainly have something to learn. Sunday we visited a beer museum, no less, something that would neither happen in Norway; where everything's closed and alcohol unavailable, this time of the week; whereas in Dublin every door is open, and the beer taps at Guinness Store House are well and running sans stop. First, we had a slight tour around the facility, and an introduction to their history and many significant contributions to alcohol consumers all over the world, from which I soon grew a bit tired (seeing that I do, incorrigibly, hate museums) but managed to stay alert and interested, nonetheless; mostly for the sake of my enthusiastic companion, who is a No 1 Guinness fanatic, but also due to this being the most exciting theme park imaginable and probably the most ingenius museum ever made. I'll admit. If nothing else, because they serve free beer on the top floor, included in the ticket price, in a beautiful panorama-view-themed place called "Gravity Bar", from which you may admire an unlimited spectacle of the city; through all-over window panes in the 360 degrees room. Stunning. Resembles the TV towers of Berlin and Toronto, which I've visited before, if not that many metres above ground level. Moreover, as for the typical tourist things, that you feel sort of obliged to get your share of when on holiday, we did stop by both the Dublin Castle and its beautiful outdoor area, albeit with a colour scheme that is awfully inconsistent, and some build-ups that ought have been revised more carefully, but it was a nice experience overall; moreover, we visited the Donnybrook suburbs, the UCD campus, and the huge public park near the HMV store, with some rather strange statues (in honour) of famous Irish artists, rebels and generally influential personalities. Where I, then, had the pleasure of encountering the stone-carved likes of Joyce and Yeats, making my trip more course related than I'd perhaps have liked. Indeed, there were quite a few downright schoolish instances, like when we waltzed into a second hand bookshop, one of many vintage-inspired places we happened to pop by, and right on front of me, an entire shelf for himself, there was Samuel Beckett - offering every single edition of his works ever published, with the more exclusive ones bordering on the insanely costly; 1000 euros and upwards. Although I never got to buy anything, I did seize the opportunity to flip through the originals and just sniff the pages of "Waiting for Godot", in French, anno the year of first publishing. Indescribable. And wow, everyone was so excited and initiated about him, and I suddenly felt very much at home; these are my heroes, these are my subjects, this is the purpose of my life - and here, it was unavoidable! They had them pictured on tourist postcards, immortalized through said statues, incorporated in popular culture everywhere. So delightful; and I am filled with swell impressions of this kind that I may live on for quite a while. After each event, in-between all the sought-out occurences, we went for yet another stroll around the city's main core, like we had the previous day; just taking a walk and breathing in the scent; the wilderness, the views, the many intriguing Kodak moments; and, summing up the whole affair, it was just great. Flew back Monday morning, packed with thoughts and new notions, watching the fields (of green) become blurred and smaller and, eventually, fading away - as the plane ascended. Ok, so my theories were all confirmed, and seldom have I seen to a country more lacking in unexpectedness, apart from the price levels, but that does - in no sense - cheapen the sole experience of having been there. I recomment Ireland to every traveller out there, and every culture-oriented, literature/film-loving fangirl like myself, and I send my sincerest thanks to Monsieur Correspondent for a stellar weekend! As for the rest of the news, and my reasons for being not-in-attendance, I'll leave that for later. Be reassured, though, that I am back and staying put and holding on to whatever it is life offers me of steadfast levers. Like fun trips abroad. And exciting encounters. Brightens up my day, yes.