A Trip to Ireland

Dear Constant Readers,

Last Monday I kicked off the traveling around with a trip to Ireland with three other friends: Joesph, from Arizona, Brian, from Texas, and finally, the brains behind putting the trip together, Ily, from Italy.

When it comes to traveling, as much as love and advocate it, I have complicated feelings about it all. Sometimes I wonder if I love it as much as I think I do. Sometimes I really just miss the comforts of home. But perhaps that just comes with the package, and again, not all traveling is like that. Basically I was living out of a backpack, something I'm not all that fond of (when it is for a long time, at least), although the actual sight-seeing itself is something I don't mind.

One of the questions I dislike though, although I can understand the reason for the inquiry, is if I'm looking forward to somemthing, or if I'm excited about somthing. They aren't exactly the same question, though. Before I went to Mexico, or Germany, or wherever, I never really thought about it in the way as a little kid I used to think about my birthday or Christmas. I didn't get that giddy feeling I used to when I was younger. I simply looked at them with a the mind that they were simply a matter of course, a next phase in life. I didn't get excited about them, but that's not to say at all that I wasn't wanting to go on them.

I don't know what any of this means. Some years back I found myself sitting near a campfire on the bank of a river somewhere in northwestern Nebraska. I was talking to a biology professor who had gone with me a and a few other people on the trip, and he mentioned that a traveler whose name I've long since forgotten wrote once that before traveling, he always came down with a bit of saddness, and could never figure out what it meant. And then it occurred to him that he was already mourning, in a sense, the change that would occur: the change in him, the fact that the world would change, too, if only to a small degree. And he was sad that it was leaving something that, in a subtle way, he could never come back to. And maybe it's the same for me, as well.

I enjoyed myself much more than I thought I would while in Ireland. With the exception of Ily, who I'm very fond of, I've never really spent hardly any time with the people I traveled with. But it turned out much to my pleasing, that the group dynamics between the four of us was quite fitting and worked well. While I enjoyed my trip in Spain, some months ago, and indeed, I think that in from a geographical point of view, or at least from what I could see from flying over it, Spain is more beautiful country (although my opinions of both Spain and Ireland are admittedly totally limited, so take that for what it's worth!) I enjoyed my trip in Ireland much more due to this fact. That's not to say I didn't enjoy those with whom I traveled in Spain, but in this case the smaller, more personal group I was with in Dublin I think played a role. I partially was surprised (and partially not, since I know myself after all these years) at, despite my last post, how open I chose to be with them on one occasion. We were talking about conflicts we'd had with other people in Germany, and it turned out to be a theraputical way to get some stuff off of my chest (and, I hope for the others as well) rather than just a bickering talking behind the backs of others. It was a great conversation, and for the majority of the rest of the trip, the attitude was quite light and laid-back.

Our next stop for the first night was an Irish bar (Temple Bar was the name, for those of you who've been to Dublin) where we ran into two very friendly Irish guys who wouldn't let us sit down, nay, we had to stand and dance and sing songs with the rest of them. Joseph asked one of the Irish men why he had a copper bracelet on, and he explained that magnets in it helped relieve pain (something I've heard of, but don't know if I believe it) and then he proceeded to read our palms. If I recall correctly, only one of us had a really favorable future ahead of us (Ily). It looked like the rest of us had some major turbulence up ahead. The man told me that I would eventually find the person for me, a soul mate, I guess, if first changed something about myself. He said I had a choice in the near future, and if I went one way, things would be good, but if I went another way, things would be disasterous. He went on to say that I'd be wise to get myself checked out by a doctor, because I could end up dying unless I got my health taken care of.

Although I do believe in Fate, I'm not a complete fatalist (at least if I have a decent understanding of the term). I do believe in Prophecy, and believe people can have other psychic powers (ESP, foresight, the Shining, whatever, I believe that it's possible for a small number of joes) but usually the only time I listen to New Age stuff is if it comes on a CD. While I won't immediately discredit astrology and tea leaves and palm reading and so forth, I'm skeptical of it. In a way I'm a cafeteria-skeptic. The aforementioned stuff I don't really put much weight in, but at the same time I've heard of energy forces that the ancient peoples of the world had tapped, or of UFO's, or even Big Foot, and think there might be something to it (and if there isn't it's still fun to think about, perhaps not unlike the other things I just mentioned).

But since he was talking about my impending doom rather shamelessly, it unsettled me a bit.

The rest of the trip really just followed the example of the first day: Go sight-seeing, find a restaurant, and then hit a bar for a bit. I ran into a classmate of mine who I hadn't seen since graduation from high school. She did a summer-long exchange trip to Ireland, and liked it so much she pulled up and moved there to study. I was a bit surprised to see she had picked up something of an Irish accent.

Another highlight of the trip was going to the Guinness brewery, home of the famous black beer. My first experience with Guinness was a sample someone had given me in a frat party my freshman year in college. I'd heard rumours that it was so thick you could practically chew it, that you couldn't see light through it, that it was like liquid bread, and so forth. I was a bit let down about the chewing rumour...I was hoping the beer would be thicker than it was. It was a taste that had to grow on me, and I like it quite a bit more than I did at that party, or last summer even when I bought some to give it a second go.

I paid some 'homage' to some Irish churches, and by that I mean I went into St. Patrick's Cathedral (I believe that was the one at least), took pictures, and walked away, being most impressed by a sign that I read about an interred priest and professor there, who had taught his dogs to climb trees. I figured though, I'm Irish, I'm Catholic, I should take this chance while I can.

We arrived back on Thursday and I've been enjoying my time back in Germany. I always look forward to coming back here, the familiarity of the country and the language (which is ironic, since Ireland is mostly English-speaking) is comforting for me. I missed Katrin's birthday by a few hours, which I was sorry about because it sounded a lot of fun, but there wasn't anything anyone could do about it; although maybe I could have made it if our plane hadn't been delayed, but I kind of doubt it.

I went out on Friday and walked around the city with a friend named Madlen, who I might be taking a trip to England with, and then that night we went to a bar with a friend of hers. On Saturday, Dylon and I were watching 'True Lies' on my DVD-Rom and finishing up a bottle of red wine I had bought eons ago, when for God only knows why, he bumped his glass and spilt wine all over my white wall, my bed/couch, and the floor. The bedding wasn't too ruined, it was just foot-end of of the comforter, but it will probably be with a few purple blotches until Doom. The wall I was able to clean up by spraying my sink clearner all over it, but the smell of bleach then hung in the room for the rest of the day. The floor is mostly clean, but wine got into some cracks where I couldn't clean it out of, and I'm worried my room is going to smell like a French cellar for a while. While going to bed last night I could still smell the bleach and wondered if I had just built my own homemade gas chamber and if I should crawl out of my nice comfy bed and crack a window, and on the heels of that wondered if that was the choice the drunk Irish man had told me about while reading my palm, and decided that, just on the sake of principle, I should open that window.

The only other thing I wish to mention is that I finally have finished 'The Stand'. Simply put, I loved the book. The world that it created was one that I would love to live in. Not a plague world where there is good and evil at odds, but the world that was emptied out and given a fresh start. Some people have said they'd buy a one-way ticket to Middle Earth. Not I. I was never a fan of 'The Lord of the Rings' (although I will read it again). But this is closer to a place I'd love to go to, and a group of people (the Free Zoners) that I'd love to live with, at least for a while. I'd probably leave and do my own thing after a while.

Back before I was interested in languages, I had a passion for films. I wanted to be a special-effects guy, and then a cinematographer, and then finally a director. Languages came into my life and over took all that, and I don't mind, but if I were still interested in movie making, 'The Stand' is a book I would want to adapt into a movie, that's how vivid it was in my mind. (I realize it has already been a TV series, but I haven't seen it yet, and am not sure I want to. I like my vision.)

I think that's about all I have to say now. I started writing this a few days ago, but between getting sidetracked and having my internet break down time and again, I could never get it published. So finally, here it is.

Hope all is well.

Sincerely,
Tristan

Finally a Message

Dear Constant Readers,

I have had a devil of a time getting a new post out. First of it it was from just being a little lazy and undiciplined. However, the last few days my internet has proven faithful in its pattern of being unfaithful, and overall I have been unable to write. So, hoping it doesn't break down now, I'm writing.

There are a couple of things I'd like to say. Last week I was speaking with Jamie and she told me that she had been following my blog. She went on to say that a few other people here had been following my blog, and even mentioned that her mom was reading it. I was a little shocked. I put it on the internet, so of course it's quite in the open, but I still didn't think hardly but a few people actually were paying attention to it. I've even received a couple of comments from two complete strangers.

To the one sir who commented about my mention of not liking dubs (if you are reading this), I looked to see if I could reply to you, but couldn't find any contact information. I don't know how exactly you found my blog, although I was certainly surprised that you did, and flattered that you replied to it. Regarding my opinions, I stand by them, however, I didn't mean to offend you. I have no doubt that dubbing takes a great deal of artistic skill, and many places do it quite well, Germany especially. But there is simply a feel of to it that breaks the spell of being transported to another world. That's my opinion of course, and I will go on to say that dubbed movies are definitely helpful to those who are trying to learn a foreign language.

To the second gentleman, this is a reply to you as well, but it is also a comment that I was going to make anyway in my blog this week. You asked me if I'm enjoying myself here as much as I sound like I am in my blog. I don't know if you were being sarcastic or not, but the flat answer is I am enjoying myself here, even if it does sound like I'm very frustrated.

I've tried to convey the fact that I love it here through my messages, but I would hope by now that this is crystal clear, through what I've said. Living abroad is hard. Studying in another culture is incredibly difficult sometimes. It's not impossible, obviously, and I don't want to scare anyone away from it at all. As I've said in my school newspaper (if any of you are from my university and read the paper), I cannot picture myself without this experience in my life. Not only would I do this again, I plan to. I plan on living in another country, working, via Peace Corps or some NGO, or who knows what. I love America, but I love the world, too. Germany and Mexico both have places in my heart. I've never come across a language that I really didn't want to learn ever since I started pursuing language studies (Spanish was close, but I've had a change of heart since learning it).

If it sounds like I'm not happy here, keep in mind I'm venting this. This is my frustration therapy, as well, and I'm sorry that maybe that's not what some of you wanted to hear. But it is, because, depsite how I sometimes feel, sometimes I enjoy being just open. I believe in honesty. I don't like fake bullshit. I know it takes some to survive in this world, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Just chow down fast and get it done, and move on with life. I'm not the picture of honesty, I'm just as human as the next guy, but I try to be sincere. Sometimes people don't like that, and sometimes it means I'm lonely, but this is the path I'm on, and it feels right for me. That's the simplest way I can explain it.

I did have a bit of a stressful weekend. I put off getting a haircut for a long time, in fact, the last time I'd gotten one was in October. On Friday I decided to get myself groomed, and chose a place that was reasonably inexpensive compared to where I went last time. But I must have incorrectly explained myself, because I tried to say I wanted such an amount cut off (about 1.5-2 inches or so) but she thought I meant that's how much I wanted left. I felt a little bit like I was watching a bad news story when I saw what length she started to cut off, but what could I say? "Excuse me, could you but that back on and try again?" Fortunately it's not super-short, but it has no length to it either, and this irked me because over the past few years I'd gotten quite used to having longer hair. The good side is though, I won't have to get it cut for a long time again, and that saves me dinero.

I was a bit shy about confronting my friends with my new do, but many of them reacted quite happily, probably because the themselves have short hair cuts. They will be disappointed, though! :-)

I am also getting badly needed experience at cooking. Actually I'm not that bad at it, I'm finding, and I finally discovered what my dishes I made tonight and the day before were lacking: Garlic! But when I go shopping, when I go through a grocery store, I feel like I'm walking through a living jigsaw puzzle. How do the pieces go together? Hunger is a big motivation to do lots of things, so eventually I'm finding if the pieces don't quite go together, I'm getting scissors and a hot-glue gun. I'm gettin better at it.

One thing that I am mostly not stressing about is the fact that a lot of my tests are already done. I only have a couple left, but I don't think they'll be the end of me. This is finals week in Germany, since their scholastic schedule is different from America's. The test I was mostly worried about...well I had a reason to be worried about, because it wasn't easy. It was a political science oral test over the themes in class, but even so I still had problems because PoliSci is by no means my area of expertise, and I don't think my experience as a veteren extempt speech giver would save me here. It was a group test, with a fellow from Poland, two girls from Latvia, a student from France, and myself, so we spoke German as a common language. It was good to have a group to bounce things off of because had I been by myself I think I would have been in real trouble. I remember one question specifically the professor asked me. He wanted me to explain how the currency exchange works, and with the spot light on me, I responded truthfully: "Ehrlich gesagt, ich habe meinen Eltern die gleiche Frage gefragt." ("Honestly, I've asked my parents that same question.") That got a chuckle out of everyone, and I think the professor appreciated that I didn't try to beat around the bush. He did eventually pass me, although out of good graces, which was about what I had expected, and I am going to try to avoid taking classes like that again, if I can avoid them.

As I mentioned about being open, sometimes I wish I wasn't so. Some people have called it a gift, and some have said how I strike them as unique, but sometimes I wish I were more private. About somethings, I am, this blog doesn't encompass me completely, although it is still part of me, in a way. But when I'm in a situation where I just want to keep to myself, I eventually find that I am more comfortable telling someone about what's eating me, although the result is not always a very good one. I can't expect everyone to sympathize, of course, and I'm no different; sometimes I am myself not very empathetic, although I at least try to listen. But sometimes, simply said, I wish I were more closed off, or reserved. Even though when I am trying to be reserved, usually that's my way of saying I've got something on my chest I want out. I don't know who else is like this. I need people to sound things off of, though, to know that I'm still well grounded, sometimes.

Before I log off, here, though, I need to say that in my last post I mentioned I was "particularly disturbed" at not being invited to go to Greece. I was a little disappointed, to be honest, but I was not as bummed as it sounded, simply because I don't proofread like I should anymore (usually because I'm too tired at the end of the day) and I miss little things like spelling errors, and more significant errors, like forgetting "not" and so forth. But I will try to proofread a little better from now on. It's in the tinkering that the writing sometimes really takes flavor.

I hope all is well!

Sincerely,
Tristan