Well, after a long hiatus here’s a quick blog post. Won’t try to cover all that has changed since the last one…now married and living in a fine house in Dublin. I do feel driven to cover the vote on Lisbon tomorrow.

When I started here last year I just missed the No vote. I did witness the multitude of signs on all the street posts (resoundingly no) and I have a collection somewhere. This time around the Yes side is determined not to be caught napping. Tomorrow will tell the tale.

On the absolutely esoteric side, I wanted to share a couple posters. This first No poster, I simply don’t get, but then maybe I am missing all the subtle hints. There are actually two versions. One is dated 1945-2009 – the other 1916 -2009 and the tag line – European/Irish Democracy? What the hell do they mean? They both feature the same little girl’s face with the eyes changed in colour…a lovely green tint for the nod towards the Easter Rising. I just have no clue. Is a poster like this supposed to make me want to vote no? Am I defending the poor waif’s shattered dreams? The poor wee thing.

Just to be somewhat even handed though, here’s another crap poster (there are good ones out there too) by the yes side entitled ‘Yes in the City.’ Almost enough to vote No. Not sure what this one is trying to convey either, but all it says to me is that Yes means materialism and whiny navel gazing. I feel compelled to protected my country of residence from that sort of thing.

All the signage does make for the most colourful street scenes, so to make up for the fine autumnal colours that I expect that I am missing in Canada, I am finding my enjoyment on street lamp foliage rather than maple trees this season.

I have been truly blessed to have enjoyed some spectacular weather here in Ireland. In my travels I have experienced periods of moisture (some intense, but most rather subtle). The last few weeks have delivered especially lovely weather – conveniently and assuredly on the weekends. Today was bright, sunny, clear and with an autumnal sharpness in the air. To broaden my irish experience today it was very enjoyable round of golf at the Stepaside Golf Club. It’s a public course, but certainly finer than many Canadian private ones. I will admit to having not been golfing in probably a decade. So today was a big trial. Would I still have a semblance of ability?…might I still have some proper form?…would I embarass myself in front of my partner? Heaven forfend. As it was the day was brilliant, the course was a delight and I seemed to be able to still drive a good ball. It was just great to be out in the Irish countryside and soaking in the rays and ambience. The long game was reasonable, the short game – well, alas needs a bit of work. But, if this were to be bringing me out to the Irish golf courses with greater frequency, I say: let’s do it!

Ah ’tis a fine Sunday when you can slip on up to the six counties for a leisurely visit. I decided in the am to see where I might find myself and Cork was approachable, but a slower trip. belfast made the most sense at just over two hours. Its a fine ride to the north and all the better when the weather’s sweet and Sunday’s was a peach. As we crossed the Boyne I sensed the day would go well- there’s always a certain pang of significance to the crossing especially when one is pushing on into Ulster.

Belfast has a strange gateway railway station. The central statin doesn’t quite seem that central, and yet I gather is more central than it once was…so it’s all rather relative I suppose. What sort of image does Belfast conjure up for you? Recent times of course remind us of the troubles, of sectarian violence, of division, and of extremes. yet, when I was through in April on my way up the north Antrim coast, it was clear that Belfast is a city of resurgent affluence, new construction, investment and certainly different circumstances than the view from outside might portend. You may also remember the Harland and Wolf shipyards that produced the Titanic and of a working-class urban centre. Belfast is not the place of memory. The first impression as you walk into town, even on a Sunday is that its a bit of a shopping town. They have some quite large city centre malls – the Tesco is even situated in a restored neo-classical masterpiece. There are pedestrian friendly streets, a wealth of high-end boutiques, cafe’s and … as of last week a bright spanking new Apple store. The scale of the city is a pleasant surprise. Very walkable and very densely rich. The architecture has the feel of fin-de-siecle turrets, arches and fine craftsmanship. A lot of red, sandstone mason’s pride.

I had a superb and filling late lunch at ‘Made in Belfast’ – a wonderfully eclectic eatery. A pint of Guinness along with some Belfast crab on brown bread (with olive oil, pesto, cherry tomatoes). I was warned that the burgers were not available (some incomprehensible explanation) and that the special of the day as a substitute was roast beef. Well, when in belfast, go for the special. It was delicious and was served with a wonderful au jus, carmellized onions, broccolli and green beans. I was able to charge my mobile at a plug alongside my table, pop onto the internet on a dwindling laptop battery and satiate my noontime needs.

After some wandering about to get feel for the city, I did feel obliged to pop into the Crown pub for another pint. Don’t be counting…I may have had more than one with lunch. But, the Crown is renowned. The only disappointment was the unavailability of fresh oysters…my heart had leapt at the possibility. All the more so as it would have been a sense of connectedness with the west on Sunday. The stores close at a very generous 6pm on Sundays, so this worked well for me catching a 7pm train back to Dublin. The trains were all on time, comfortable and quite reasonable in cost. The trip home was a packed crew…presumably returnees from a full weekend in the north.

The currency situation is rather odd I find. Having gotten used to Euros, all is well…you just don’t do the conversion and life seems alright. In point of fact in Dublin, you are paying in euros, directly what you would pay in dollars, so life is more expensive here. There has been a lot of press lately about how many of the chains are gouging customers in the republic. However, despite this, I found that I was actually paying in sterling what I am paying in Euros. That’s a wee bit more again. This was not the case in all venues, as the pints cost me £2 as opposed to being as high as €5 in some Dublin pubs at certain times…curiosity…liquor costs vary by time of day in Ireland. Novel.

All in all, though, a fine place for a visit and I’ll look forward to tripping up again to get further afield.

Today’s objective (as tho’ the day needed an objective) was to finally explore the National War Memorial Gardens and Phoenix Park. Bottomline: It’s a really, freakin’ enormous park. We already knew it was the largest walled park in the world, but the scale is not really appreciable until move about its extents under your own steam. It’s a rustic park for most parts – thankfully the more rustic, the more quiet and peaceful. The smell is delicious. I rode placidly appreciating the views of distant villages, across vista’s entirely within the parkspace itself and occassional glimpses out of the greenery and off in the distance towards the cranes in Dublin. Parts of the park are more developed than others – near the Aras an Uachtaran (the President’s House) is very ceremonial, where the Ordinance Survey offices are tucked unobtrusivelly into a forest nook. The around the Wellington Monument was crawling with people. Apparently it was Septemberfest and Some sort of Soccerfest as well. There was a cricket tourney all coexisting within a mere corner of the park. The Dublin Zoo (also a constituent part of the park) was busy with families coming and going.

The National War Memorial gardens were the polar opposite. Its also a substantial park, but it’s somber and respectful (as it should be) the hilly grounds very much a manicured space festooned with ruiney-looking monuments. Respect and reverance. On the downside I swam back in the pouring rain. Well, at least the larger portion of the day was dry. Quite the change from yesterday, the sunburn effects of which I can still feel

Originally published en route over 3 3G network
On the early train from Heuston to Galway this morning. It’s a dry day, but not the brightest.
Fingers crossed for a pleasant appearance in Galway. I have not been here since 1991. Remember fondly the advice to hit the Quays and finding accommodation in a convent school during the Galway Music Festival. As I recall, Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves had come out and was showing at the cinema. Went out, found the theatre and when the mercenary ‘celts’ (when I think of historical realism I always value the Costner touch came over the hill to attack the merry band…the whole audience cheered.
So far a very flat trip outwards. Sedate and a time for pleasant reflection. Transported by lovely notes from border crossings in Cyprus.
Arrival in Galway to greyish skies, but greeted warmly by Bruno, our man in Galway. Tucking into the Quays, we enjoyed some absolutely stunningly fresh and tasty oysters. The skies cleared as we got a chance to wander about thew town. Galway has grown up much since I was last here and it has a very, very European feel to it. Almost a central European feel. The core is full of wide cobblestoned pedestrian roadways and features an amazing variety of shops, bars and restaurants. Its a wonderful stroll and far more charmingly European than Temple Bar.
The Corrib river also featured very strongly. It was a raging river right through town. The sheer power of the rush of water was quite spectacular.
The sun has now come out fully as we journey back to Dublin. The waiting train for the return is one of the old orange bone-shakers. We did well the way out in one the new modern intercity railsets. The Diesel powered one for the return sat belching smoke in the train shed, the ventilation system, not quite keeping up. The exhaust gathered in the rafters, leaving one top wonder wether they actually had opened the presumed louvers in the roof. Created a rather old world sort of experience.
All in all a very nice trip. Galway scores high. Pity about the hurling juniors.

You can’t possibly imagine the joy as I discover that I can once again communicate with the world from my own home. For the past month I haven’t been able to reach any of my own websites from my house. Try as I may I simply could reach my own server. Entered the IP number, tried reflashing the router, blowing away prefs on everything, all to no avail. OSX, Windows, didn’t matter. shawnday.com of all flavours was simply beyond my reach. So, no more excuses for not keeping in touch. Time to catch up. Wow…what a treat!

A wee bit of wet, but a very warm welcome greeted me in Tipperary this weekend. My good friend Keza and her lovely girls are staying with the Ryans on their place near Atshanboy. I headed out early Saturday morning and the train to Thurles was efficient and ontime. Keza and Seamus Ryan met me at the station and I got a wonderful guided tour of the rolling lush scenery that is Tipperary. It was a treat. Despite persistent rain, Seamus gave me a quick run around some of their fields and tour of the farm. We also took a quick look to one of their houses – a fixer-uppers dream just waiting for the right taker. We attended a christening at the afternoon and I was welcomed by the O’Dwyers to the family party. We watched the GAA and partook of a lavish potluck. Everyone was open and welcoming and made me feel just great.
After mass we had a lovely evening of deep discussion. Sunday found Keza, the kids, Seamus and I off for a castle tour and we spent a couple hours at Cashel. Absolutely spectacular! Part of the edifices on the Rock of Cashel date from 550AD and it is a site connected with Munster royalty until the 12th century, when it was gifted to the Irish Church and became the seat of the Archbishop of Cashel. The enormous limestone rock upon which the cathedral is constructed is absolutely immense, the buildings some of the most spectacular ruins that I have ever witnessed. Mary, our lovely tour guide held us enraptured with tales, ribald commentary and a sparkling whit. We learned about the ancient cross of St. Patrick around which one can gain eternal immunity from toothaches if you can make your hands meet on giving it a bear hug. Keza has a picture of me desperately trying to accomplish said feat. The cross is placed on the supposed coronation stone of the kings of Munster, although there is some dispute over whether the rock we saw was the actual stone of history. Upstairs are the painstakingly reconstructed vicar’s choir featuring goat’s skin windows and a marvelous ribbed ceiling of Irish oak. Proceeding outside we were regaled with stories of the renegade archbishop who held both the protestant archbishopric of Armagh simultaneous with the Roman Catholic one of Cashel, all the time writing sweet nothings to Elizabeth I. We appreciated the awe-inspiring over-construction of the cathedral, Cormac’s chapel, a curious round tower and a huge assortment of stunning celtic crosses. The graveyard surrounding the cathedral is still receiving internees and the views from it are spectacular in all four directions. The rock is a commanding presence over the countryside and it is clearly evident why it would have been chosen as the seat for the high-king of Munster. It’s very difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer scale of Cashel Rock and the buildings on it. The roofless cathedral has a commanding majesty even missing significant portions of what was once a pre-medival stronghold. I was very reminded of Laon in France, with a rougher, more rugged visage.
We visited the reconstructed Holy Cross Abbey on the way back to the Ryan farm. It to was breathtakingly beautiful. All the more so for it having been a roofless and rundown ruin twenty years ago, painstakingly reconstructed using original techniques. Although the abbey dates from more recent times – the 14th century – it has a wonderful serenity to it and the craftsmanship in the reroofing is simply brilliant. Up Tipp!

One thing that has enamoured me of this town is the wealth of little things going on that one can avail oneself of informally. Today is an excellent case in point. I headed over to the Academy at noon to help with some interviews for an IT position there. I was a few minutes early, so I cut down Kildare Street and popped into the National Library. They have a W.B. Yeats exhibition on and I had discovered this amazing display featuring notable Irish voices reading selected poems. The readings are delivered in this gazebo-like area with images projected aside words on translucent screens. It’s a uniquely captivating experience and I find myself transported from the work-a-day world onto (dare I say it) a transcendental plain. Its really a very special experience and I took ten minutes to savour a few poems and then headed onto my appointment. Entrance is free and its just inside the building. Its a splendid little place along the way. It allows you to spike your journey with some variety.

I work quite near St. Stephen’s Green and it has the obvious attractions of parkland, strollers (flaneur) and serendipitous engagement – like the brass band from two weekends ago. I live beside the RDS (Royal Dublin Society) grounds and one of the highlights of the year here is the annual Horse Show. It started the other day and has been attracting huge crowds. I don’t even have to contend with the horsey set though, as I can sit on my balcony and it overlooks the show grounds. Its quite a treat. The dressage, show jumping, all sorts of wonderful displays…and I don’t even have to leave my home. I remain truly blessed in the wonderful little diversions.

So…I finally made it out of Dublin. A month here and I had remained largely confined, but by the good graces of my friend Mary, I spent a lovely day traveling down to the South coast of Ireland. Destination: the Irish riviera at Trá Mhór (I honestly didn’t realise that that was a used term when I composed and published this, but lo and behold some clever marketeers actually use it). The journey was a treat. We passed through the stunning Sally Gap, along Braveheart Avenue (I kid you not, they seem to have renamed the road through the gap after the movie filmed there. We dropped into Glendalough, saw the magnificent round tower, located in an equally fascinating graveyard at St. Kevin’s church. We also discovered that St. Kevin was quite the entrepreneur, establishing a mobile kitchen, a craft shop and a pub onto which he proudly emblazoned his name;-)
Mary came superbly prepared with a full picnic lunch which we enjoyed in a roadside lay by. After repasting, we headed south closer to the coast and made an attempt to find Father Murphy’s Boolavogue. We followed a couple of signs and then as we should have been close, no more signs. We made a turn (incorrect as we eventually learned as the signs began a few km further on pointing backwards). We’ll find it next time. Passing through Enniscorthy we eventually reached Waterford. A lovely town lining the river Suir and clearly attached to its own Viking roots. It too features a round tower, abutting which buildings have since been constructed.
Heading out of town we headed for Mary’s hometown of Trá Mhór. It’s a lovely seaside village with an absolutely awe-inspiring beach. I learned that Trá means strand and Mhór means big. It did not disappoint. There were dueling circuses in town (I do really think that the plural is circi) and the promenade was packed with bank holiday circus goers. The weather was lovely and after a tea with her brother and a chance to see the family demense, she dropped me at the station in Waterford so I could catch the train back to Dublin. I now write from the train as we *speed* through the Irish countryside.
It’s a 3 hour trip from Waterford to Heuston Station in Dublin. We are now at Athy. When we hit Kilkenny, we turned around and headed back for Waterford. Well, hopefully not too far, but as it turns out its not a through station. Additionally, the mainline we are following is a single track and so we stop every now and then (sometimes in the stations – sometimes in the middle of nowhere).
An absolutely lovely bank holiday.

Ancient Irish Tea Ritual