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
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
posted by Tristan | 8:16 AM
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