A medley of photos!

This weekend was my explore Dublin, poke about in museums weekend. So far it's been going well. Friday I made it my goal to get to the Dublin Theater Festival box office in Temple Bar, which I did, there and back in about four hours. Had I been walking there direct it would probably have taken me an hour and a half total, but I meandered, and I walked through St Stephen's Green, and the arcades and architecturally gorgeous shopping centres between here and there, and took many photos. Saturday I spent wandering the National Gallery, seeing things I didn't see the first time, and then going to Ivanov. Today I'm going to the National Museum of Archeology* and then to see Hibiki. Hot damn, but do I feel cultured.



This is the bridge near my apartment.



And this is St Stephen's Green, my new favorite park:









And this is Trinity, from the tour Lee and I took.



And our favorite musicians on Grafton street, this amazing quintet. I have a video, too (see below):



And this is St Stephen's Green shopping centre, which was built in the Victorian era (can you tell?) and is the prettiest mall I have ever seen. I am also inordinately fond of this photo.



And coming back through the green--you can see things changing colour for fall.







And this is the video of the Grafton street quintet that we like so much, playing La Traviata. It's short, just about forty seconds. Ignore the fact that it changes to side view halfway through, please...this is me learning my camera's capabilities. And being a little stupid. Oh well.







* I would just like to register my continued annoyance that the Dead Zoo is closed. I mean. What? It's for repairs, okay, but it's been closed since July. If I miss it....rrrargh.

MUSIC!

All week, Brianna had been talking about a traditional music pub crawl happening on Friday. Irish music? I'm in! says I, having been vaguely trying to find some ever since I got here. Anyone else want to come? Anyone...? Strangely enough, no one else was interested. It ended up being just Brianna, Peter, Kenzie and me. And GOD did everyone else MISS OUT.

It was FANTASTIC. I cannot use enough capital letters to tell you how amazing it was. There were just two musicians, Eugene (banjo) and Antony (guitar, bohdran, voice), two pubs, and about three hours of music, talk and alcohol. Could it be better? I think not. The dynamic between the two was hilarious; Antony was a showman, cracking jokes, and Eugene would be all quiet until he'd suddenly bust out with something hilarious. Or they'd both go on about history of music, of instruments--all of it fascinating. When playing Eugene would close his eyes and go all meditative while his fingers went crazy on the strings, while at the same time Antony's next to him, essentially rocking out on whatever instrument he was on. They played reels and jigs and hornpipes and other tunes, and taught us how to sing Johnny Jump Up, and generally had a great time. So did we. (Kenzie developed an enourmous crush on Eugene. I thought Antony looked a little like a pirate. Or possibly Sim.)

At one point Eugene was talking about his musical background, and how when he switched from guitar to banjo at 16 he needed to find a new idol (as Jimi Hendrix did not play the banjo). He found one in Bela Fleck (our whole table went "Yeeeah!"); and he then proceeded to play a bluegrass reel that he'd stolen off Bela Fleck when he'd come to Dublin in concert. And it was incredible.

My feet were tapping the whole time, completely inadvertently, I wouldn't have known how to stop them. I want to dance again, relearn all my steps. Especially hardshoe, I like making noise. I wonder if Eugene and Antony want someone to dance. I wonder if they could tell me where ceilis are held.

This is a video I nabbed right at the end; it's a low-light, hard-to-see-anything, I've-had-better-sound-quality-from-ducks kind of video, but it's two and a half minutes of AWESOME. Seriously. Just watch it.

Lisdoonvarna, the Cliffs of Moher, & the baddest party on earth.

Lesson one: Don't take Bus Eireann across Ireland. Small trips? Probably fine (even though coaches are low on my list of favored travel methods, right below old car and above being dragged by a donkey).
See, you'd think that since Ireland is such a small country, it would take very little time to cross it. Of course that doesn't take into account the fact that the roads are still living in the 1800's, or that the bus stops in every small town from point A to point Z.

Friday
So on Friday, what should have been a four hour trip from Dublin to Oranmore to Lisdoonvarna became a nine hour trip from Dublin to Galway to Ennis to Lisdoonvarna.

On the bright side, most of it wasn't the worst coach ride I've ever been on, and the scenery was unparalleled, even through bus windows:






A door in Galway, near the station. I am really fond of this photo, for some reason.



And this is Lee's We're In Galway When We Should Be In Lisdoonvarna Already, Dammit face.


My favorite part (and I say this with appropriate dramatic irony) was the first half of the ride between Ennis and Lisdoonvarna. The bus was so packed with people that I didn't get a seat; the woman getting on after me nearly was shown off the bus because she had nowhere to sit. The driver's assistant gave up his seat for her, but I hid in the back so they wouldn't kick me off (no way was I waiting another four hours in Ennis! It is not that interesting a city). I ended up sitting on the corner of the ledge between the second to last row of seats and the emergency exit stairs. I couldn't sit in the stairwell, which would probably have worked better, because someone was already sitting there. I crunched myself into the seat, facing backwards, and held on for dear life with my left hand on the wall and my right on the chair across the aisle, as the bus bounced through the most winding and rickety streets of Ireland.

Once a few people got off, I managed to get a seat and was able to see something, which is good, as the west of Ireland is maybe the most beautiful place in the world.


(As Lee said, "...a wall?" "It's picturesque," says I.)


(The beach near Lahinch.)


(Countryside on the coast. That blue part in the back? That's the Atlantic, kids.)

We finally arrived in Lisdoonvarna, dropped our things at the hostel (the nicest hostel I've ever been in; it was a classy four star hotel until recently), ate dinner for about three hours (Irish time...), and then wandered the streets of Lisdoonvarna.





I should probably explain that Lisdoon is a holiday town; in September there are about four festivals going on at once, and every other month of the year everyone clears out and it is a ghost town, as it were. The biggest festival is the Matchmaking Festival, which was part of the reason we went (not to be matched, but for a) laughing at those who were & b) the advertised live music every night). So the town was filled with people, and there were flags flying everywhere. Of course most of these people were far older than us; the median age was maybe forty five or so. So as Lee muttered to me in Spanish (we've taken to using Spanish at random moments, both for the practice and to say things we don't want to be overheard), "When we're much, much older and desperate, we'll know where to go..."

Saturday

I should start Saturday at about five am...which is when one of the women sharing our room came back, by herself (her friend having gone to bed earlier; I was asleep by ten). She tumbled into the room and joined her friend (they were sharing the double bed) and had a whispered conversation which I caught very little of. I went back to sleep, and was woken up a couple hours later by the most impressive snoring I have ever heard in my life--and in my life I include all movies, tv shows, and anywhere else that snoring might have had a fantastic expression. This was better. For one thing it was entirely irregular. It mostly began as a series of small snorts that sounded more like farting than snoring; and then an enormous snorfling roaring snore, followed by a lot of grunting. When I looked over at the bed, her poor bedmate was squished to one edge of the bed, because Snoring Lady had taken up the entire rest. God, but it was hilarious! I don't think I've ever heard any funnier unintentional noise from any human being ever.

After we'd gotten up and eaten the free breakfast (yay!), we called the number of a horse-riding stable; the man told Lee that he was closed, but gave her the number of his father, who also did pony-trekking.

His father turned out to be Willie Daly, who has posters for his pony-trekking stable allll over Lisdoon. He said he was driving through so he'd pick us up, which he did; he was about sixty, with bright white hair, beige corduroys and an aran sweater. He drove us to his stables, near Doolin, in his tiny horse-smelling Citron. Cozy sat up front and Lee and I were squished in the back next to a couple tyres. Willie kept up a steady stream of talk about horses, about the eighty year old woman who had never ridden before and the hilarious story involving jealous husbands. In the course of this car conversation we learned that not only is Willie a pony stable owner, but is also The Matchmaker of Lisdoonvarna...as in, he is the one on the brochures, The Matchmaker with all the capital letters intact. (I'm pretty sure mere words can't express how fabulous this old man was...he just did not stop talking, and it was in this lovely soft accent, and he was teasing but only in the best way ("you'd best come to the bar tonight, girls, I can find you good Irish boys"), and telling us hilarious stories.


(HORSE. YAY.)

We had a two hour trek through gorgeous countryside, led in the second half by a young man named Frasier (the first half by a girl who's name I didn't catch; she left so I didn't get to talk with her). Frasier was hilarious, a total show-off, but really friendly and welcoming. After the trek he brought us back to Willie's kitchen and made us tea, and himself breakfast (at two in the afternoon...hah). We chatted about Ireland and traveling for a while; Willie came in and out and joined in the conversation. After a little while Willie's son, who lived next door, came over with his two daughters, Una (six) and Eva (four). They ran into the room with incredible energy and ran shrieking from Frasier ("are you my angel, then?" "yeeees!").

Una: Are you here on holiday?
Lee: Yes, actually, we're--
Una: I already knew that. Everyone who comes here is on holiday.

And when they found out we were actresses: "Are you on TV?" And when we said no, "Oh," in a tone that clearly meant we weren't worth their time. Eva told us all about Una's new boyfriend (Frasier saying, "if I see you with a man, Eva...rrrr!") and showed us her coloring book; Una told us that her grandfather was famous (Cozy: "Does that mean you're famous? Can I shake hands with a famous person?"), and they both pestered us with thousands of questions.

Una: How old are you?
Lee: How old do you think I am?
Una: (long pause) Um. Seventy-two.

This is the kind of experience you live in another country for. The kind of thing you simply can't plan. And it fell right into our laps without a thought. Beautiful.

We'd been in their kitchen about an hour, I think, when Willie came back in and said that there was a film crew doing a documentary, and did we mind getting back on the horses to ride a bit? (Hah! Did we mind!) So we got a second trek, for free, with an American film crew around us (some on horses, some with cameras). They were around to do a documentary on Willie and Lisdoonvarna. They were all wonderfully friendly people (one of them had a brother living in Seattle, so I got to talk about my city). So look for us on televsion! ...or something.



This is Willie's house, with the film crew in front. The white-haired man in the middle is our own Willie Daly.



And this is the kitchen we had tea in, with bridles on the wall and the best view anyone has ever had, ever.



More kitchen!

After the horse and film experience, we got back to Lisdoonvarna to meet Kate and Charlotte. We got food, and then went to explore the Lisdoonvarna nightlife...which is...indescribable. I'll do my best, though.

The place we ate dinner was at a hotel/bar called The Ritz, which was decidedly unritzy. We were surrounded by older people (I don't just mean the forty-fivers, I'm talking sixty and up) some of whom who were dressed in things no one should wear--I don't mean no sixty year old should wear, I mean no one should. We decided it was sort of like a retirement home crossed with a nightclub. The live music that we were excited for turned out to be, in every single venue, country music--as in American country music. And not really the good kind. We went to a bar after dinner and sat in the corner to people-watch. Pretty much everyone was drunk, or on their way. For some reason everyone was wearing cowboy hats purchased from a couple of roving salespeople; these hats were either bright red or pink, or zebra striped, or yellow with prints of marijuana leaves. I honestly felt as though I'd stepped into a bar in Arizona. It was bizarre, and entertaining, and like nothing else in the world, probably.

(It also gave me a complete understanding of the term "meat market." Not that I didn't know what it meant, but in that place it was really clear. People's evaluating gazes were palpable; you could feel people's eyes on you everywhere you went. I swear I have not been stared at so much in my life. Some attention is flattering (I am an actor after all, I need an audience at some point). This was just insane.)



A taste of the crowds outside Meg Maguire's. Oh yes. Crazy.


Sunday

Sunday was far more relaxing than Saturday night, and utterly gorgeous as well: We went to see the Cliffs of Moher. I think for this I'll just have to let the pictures talk; there's not much I can say about the Cliffs, except superlatives that don't really convey any meaning. It's sort of unreal, though; all the photos I took feel like postcards, have this air of surreality to them, but while you're there, the earth is realer than anything else. Especially right near the edge, when you glance down and there's nothing between you and the cliffs and a very long way down to the ocean. That's our planet, right there. God, but it's breathtaking.








(This is the view if you look away from the Cliffs, back toward the mainland. Less awe-inspiring perhaps, but no less beautiful.)



We caught the bus from the Cliffs just as it began to rain. The ride back to Dublin was long, but not overly terrible; Lee and I talked theater and musicals, and read plays, and eavesdropped on the people around us. What stood out about coming home was just that--we were coming home. I don't know whether it's just the amount of time we've lived here now, or the fact that we'd traveled away from it, but arriving in Dublin on Sunday night was returning to a home, not just a base. That's not to say I don't still have settling in to do, or that I don't miss things from home like mad, because I do; but it's nice to know that I can come to Leeson Hall and have it be welcoming. It's good to know.

Dun Laoghaire!

It's been a while since my last update, so...here we go, another one. (I actually don't know how long it's been. Time gets a little out of joint here....)

All my classes are going well. Movement is going to be really hard, in a good way; I have a dance to practice that is really confusing my neurons. Acting looks to be fun, and the teacher is really lovely. Devising was a little iffy--I wasn't sure exactly what was going on in it--but now I adore it, and the teacher is so cool. The reason I know this is that I, plus five of my classmates, was a part of Dublin Culture Night 2007. And when I say a part, I mean we were actually part of an event. Antoinette, our Devising teacher, put on a workshop at the LAB on Foley street, and she invited us to come be in it. It was essentially like class; a lot of work and exercises involving group work and physical space, sensing group members, that kind of thing. Most of us didn't know each other (there were about sixteen people there), but by the end we basically created a performance just from the work we did that night. It was fabulous.

That was Friday night. Saturday some of us (Kate, Lee, Katie V and me) went to Dun Laoghaire, a coastal town outside Dublin, for part of the day.



I pretty much love everything to do with trains. Including stations.



The coast around Dublin Bay is gorgeous:





Um. There really are no words:



(Okay, I lie. There are a lot. This was an ad at the Dun Laoghaire station, for an eatery that we found later. I especially like the part about booking Christmas parties...)

We got off the train and wandered around the harbour for a while:





This was the pier that we walked along before lunch:



And this was our goal, the lighthouses at the end:



This was our view, as we sat in the shade and ate lunch:



And this is what we did after we ate lunch:



After that we wandered around the town a little, got ice cream at a corner shop, and took the train back.




Today Cozy and I took Katie to her new hostel (she is visiting at the moment--SO much fun), and then met up with Meghan and Lee at O'Neills, where we watched the 2007 all-Ireland football championship. (This is gaelic football, mind; the sport that makes NFL players look like pussies. Even more than rugby. I'm telling you....beautiful, and brutal.)

Tomorrow starts the second full week of classes. Already!

The zooo....

Another big update with photos coming your way. Much has happened...I have been here now a total of five days (I think...) and it feels like much longer, because we've been doing so much. We had an open-top bus tour of Dublin, after which some of us wandered to St Stephen's Green shopping centre for food and things like coughdrops and handsoap, etc. The bus tour was v. good as it gave us all more of an idea of where places were in relation to each other, what the main routes were to get to them...things that are good to know.

That didn't stop Cozy & Lee & I from getting seriously confused about buses yesterday, or Sarah & Mikah & I from losing our way entirely on the way home this evening, but it's better than nothing.

Saturday night the two Leeson first floor apartments (86: Cozy, Lee, Meghan; 88: Sarah, Mikah, Kate, me) went out to the Barge for Lee's 21st. We had drinks and stood around and talked and it was loud and pub-like and Irish.

I'll stick this post into two parts: First, the photo-tour I took today of how you get from my flat to IES; and then the zoo.


Westward Ho!

This is my apartment, the Leeson Hall. The window above the right-hand door, with the pulled together curtain, is our kitchen.



And this is the street view just as you step out of our carpark:



Walking down this street (Leeson street) takes you past the Leeson Lounge, where some of us went for a relaxing pint (er, glass) of Guinness on Friday...



And if you keep following Leeson, you'll run right into the canal and, appropriately, Canal Road:



There are other ways to walk to IES, but I prefer this one, since walking along the canal is an incredibly European experience, and I enjoy it far too much.




The next bridge you come to (after Leeson bridge, which is where you turn onto Canal Road) is home to The Barge, a pub which is a great hangout place. I mean, I can only say so much, but in the five days I've been in Dublin I have gone to the Barge three times, so hey. (It's that tall building on the far side of the bridge; the one with the Irish flag waving.)




There are two swans on the canal....vicious birds, but pretty from afar:





Then you come to the next bridge, which is where you take a left, avoiding being hit by cars:



And you walk along Rathmines Road for half a block, until you see the IES center in a brick building next to the Spar (the convenience store):



Et voila. You're there.


Dublin Zoo!

Yesterday, Cozy, Lee & I went to the Dublin Zoo (the second oldest zoo in Europe), which is in Phoenix Park (the largest park in Europe).

This is the lake you see when you first walk in the entrance:



It had beautiful black swans!



This was probably my favorite building of the entire zoo. First of all, it's red brick, and obviously old; second, it's called The Roberts House:



Third, it looks like a beautiful greenhouse inside (it reminded me of Kew):



And fourth, it housed these furry little denizens of the night:



What's not to like? (Although they weren't really little, exactly; each bat was probably as long as my forearm.)

There was also a petting zoo area, with various farm animals. This is Beau, a grumpy Welsh Pony, being cosseted by Cozy and photographed by Lee:



I took a great deal of pictures, but not very many of them turned out well, due to distance-focusing issues and glass glare; but the orangutans were incredibly photogenic:





And this one's for Joel.