Eire

DUBLIN

I couldn't have picked a better place to spend my 40th than the Island...Ireland. This wasn't so apparent when I first arrived and to be honest, I wasn't so sure that it was going to live up to expectation.

I arrived in Dublin on a Tuesday night, fresh from 3 nights in Paris, and before that 3 weeks in Spain. I was spent to say the least. I arrived around 5 p.m. and splashed on a cab, because at that stage I was sick of public transport and just wanted to chat with a local. This was a success but €30 Euro later, I probably should have taken the bus because it would have dropped me right off by the hostel.

I booked a room at Barnacles in Temple Bar, which used to be a great location when I was there in 1998. However, if I had a dollar for every Irish person I met, I would be destitute, living in the streets. The only locals were working in the pubs and they just seemed bitter and over it and this tells me that it is like any other big, buzzing city...too many tourists, too expensive, too loud, too busy. Used to be that when you would go into any
My room was a different story. It was cluttered with the United Nations, including a Brazilian guy, 2 American girls, 2 Israelis dudes, 2 French girls, a guy from Belgium and a 19 year old Japanese girl, who must have been frightened out of her mind at the likes of us. The Israeli boys and French girls were so loud and drunk, they kept us all up until 4 a.m. and I had enough! I moved to the common room after giving them a piece of it!

Anyway, I was gutted when I arrived because I thought Murphy wasn't going to be able to meet me because of the Electric Picnic so I was in a crap mood, grumpy and feeling completely sorry for myself at the prospect of hanging out in Dublin for 6 days with nothing to do but drink expensive Guinness and grumble about no one talking to me, but Murphy came through and I booked a bus to Galway and off I went to see the countryside. Along the way, I passed "Horan's FAmily Butcher Shop" which I saw 8 years ago. It used to be Horan Brothers but at least they kept it in the family.

ELECTRIC!!!

The bus was late to Galway and by the time I got to Murph, he was trying to get all over to arrange Cd's, get buttons, and get back to John's to arrange the CD'S, then get down to Stradbelly for the Festival. We had a lovely dinner with Caroline, Tre (11), Josh (7) and little Mia (1 and a half) and they even had a baby Jack Russell that I was about to put into my backpack and never look back! Those kids are the best kids ever and if I could I would be the governess. Adorable!

The Electric Picnic was a bit of a blur, but I will say that I had an amaying time and in true form, I rang in the new decade at midnight with a shot of Jamieson and a can of warm, cheap beer! Perfect! And, being at a festival, setting up a new tent in the dark, trying to pee in the bramble bushes and plotting a way to bum rush the whole event (I didn't have a ticket) was apropos for the gypo, who would have rather been no where else!

The Picnic itself was great, so many acts, so many people, so much mud and rain, and even a comedy tent! I got to see Michael Franti and Spearhead on Saturday ane not only was it one of his best, but the crowd absolutely loved him! I was such a jackass, going mental in the front row, screaming "san francisco!" the whole time.

I also met the coolest chick named Avril, who is a stilt walker and performance artist. When she and her friends busted out a real live Father Ted episode, I thought I was going to wet myself! I ended up "blagging" my way in, which in Irish slang, just means scamming my way in by borrowing a few wristbands and then giving them back. People were all too willing to oblige...seems going anywhere on the blag is an Irish National pastime! Brilliant! Except when they hire the Scottish company to run security. Dont mess with the Scots! I got thrown out on one occasion, but managed to talk my way back in.

After the fest, Murphy my hero, drove me all the way back to Dublin then drove all the way back to Kinvara...probably 4 hours total. God love him...thanks!

"NORN IRNE"

I have always wanted to go to the North of Ireland, I hear the people are lovely and the history has always fascinated me. These are a very resiliant lot, fighting on both sides for what they believe and I just wanted to see for myself...

I will save the history of each town and the troubles for another blog, as I am tired from being on the computer for 4 hours...but the highlights of my trip were:

Learning about Bloody Sunday in Derry...Trying to Irish Dance in Derry...Seeing the murals in Belfast and ultimately, meeting two special forces policmen in Belfast, dancing until 7 a.m. then going to breakfast...all the while trying to understand what the hell they were saying! The Northern accent is devoid of most vowels and if a vowel is used, it is muddled and chewed up! Thus, Northern Ireland, is...Norn Irne. It's that simple. The lads were trying to teach me the accent and I just decided to start mumbling...would have been easier!

Will be in Munich tomorrow night and will try to finish the Ireland story. Am so tired, will be in Italy and Greece until mid-October so I must go and finish preparing for that. LATERS1