Assateague Island
At last, some new travel to report! This past weekend I went camping with my sister and several new friends on Assateague Island in Maryland, which is known (to everyone but me, apparently) for its population of wild ponies. It was overcast the whole time, but we still had fun getting our feet wet on the beach, walking through the marsh, and looking out for deer and horses.
(That's Kate and Elliot having a seaweed fight. Some things will never change.)
The Moon-Spinners
I picked the perfect book for my weekend trip to Florida: The Moon-Spinners by Mary Stewart, which I discovered by way of Forgotten Classics (click the link to hear Julie read the first two chapters). Nicola, a 22-year-old English girl working at the British embassy in Athens, is on her way to the tiny Cretan village of Agios Georgios for a holiday with her cousin Frances when she gets mixed up in the aftermath of an attempted murder. Nicola is smart and capable, like all Stewart's heroines so I hear, and you have to wonder at how poorly her new friends Mark and Lambis would have fared without her intervention.I've never read a novel quite like this one--it's romantic suspense crossed with a vivid and beautifully written travelogue. The descriptive passages got me very nostalgic for my Greek adventure with Aravinda back in September 2006 (which I'll retro-blog next month...lots of gorgeous photos and funny stories to share!) This is not a romance novel though; the blossoming relationship between Nicola and Mark is all subtextual, which makes it all the more satisfying. But speaking of vivid descriptive passages, here's my favorite:
You might, in a simpler world, have said it was magic. There was the illuminated rock of the sea bed, every pebble clear, a living surface shifting with shadows as the ripples of the upper sea passed over it. Seaweeds, scarlet and green and cinnamon, moved and swayed in drowsy patterns so beautiful that they drugged the eye. A school of small fish, torpedo-shaped, and barred like zebras, hung motionless, then turned as one, and flashed out of sight. Another, rose-colored, and whiskered like a cat, came nosing out of a bed of grey coralline weed. There were shells everywhere.I lay and gazed, with the sun on my back, and the hot boards rocking gently under me. I had forgotten what I had come out for; this was all there was in the world; the sea, the sun hot on my skin, the taste of salt, and the south wind...
Go buy the book off Amazon marketplace for a penny. You'll be glad you did.
Galápagos Retrospective
I'm not going to be doing much traveling for awhile, but it seems you guys enjoy the pictures, so I thought I'd share some photos of my Galápagos adventure with Kelly (two years ago this month). It might sound trite, but observing evolution at work, and at such close range, is a profound experience. We had the good fortune to be adopted by a lovely South African family living in London (Nikki, Andrew, and 14-year-old Jamie), and hanging out with them made our trip all the more enjoyable. Even the frustrations (the cockroaches on the boat, the hilariously bad food and creepy cook, the irresponsible behavior of our fellow tourists) fell into the category of 'never a dull moment.' If you ever get a chance to go, DO! (Right: a frigatebird strutting his stuff. The bird life is wonderful--clever little sparrows hopped right up to me whenever I opened my water bottle, and we even spotted a few penguins!)But read Mike D'Orso's Plundering Paradise first. I had the privilege of working on this book while I was at Harper, and I reread it during our trip--it's an engrossing, very personable travelogue touching on the myriad environmental and economic problems wrought by tourism, immoral/illegal fishing practices, and government corruption, all through the eyes of island natives, scientists, and other long-term residents.Anyway, without further ado, here's my little slide show, with a few journal excerpts thrown in.
Galápagos tortoises at the Charles Darwin Research Station, Isla Santa Cruz.
Tuesday, 21 August 2007: "Just got back from our second morning of snorkeling--swam behind a sea turtle for maybe half a minute, saw a few sea urchins and a big indigo-colored fish, then a huge sea lion towards the end. We heard stories of sea lions mistaking people in wet suits for their own species, and even attacking. Yesterday morning I saw a small ray and a wider variety of fish--several schools (makes you feel so serene, watching them swimming in unison); a few pale medium-sized fish streaked with pastel pink, blue, and green; and a larger blue fish lying still beneath a rock."
Kelly chillin' with a sea lion.
Thursday, 23 August 2007: "Been having a tremendously good time--never again will I be able to speak the words "he peed in Barbara Bush's coochie" to a family of Jehovah's Witnesses..."
The boat circled Kicker Rock early in the morning--well worth getting up at 6 for, don't you think?
Thursday, 23 August 2007 (later): "Watched a sea lion in labor (for nearly an hour!) Came back from our walk and found mom and pup in the same spot on the beach near the pier. Blood on the sand. Saw waved albatrosses doing their mating dance, clacking beaks like a furious game of hockey. Stunning cliff views..."
Aforementioned beak-hockey mating dance.
The infamous blue-footed booby.
"Horribly rough passage from Santa Cruz to Santa Fe this afternoon--newcomers were all seasick, and we all felt pretty queasy too. But I laid down and listened to Elbow. Proud of myself for not puking. Delicious hot chocolate served after snorkeling."
Wednesday, 29 August 2007 (back on the mainland): "Last delicious thing we had on that boat, let me tell you..."
Kelly on Isla Bartolome, during the most scenic walk of the trip. Notice rocket-shaped Pinnacle Rock at top right--there's another view of it in the picture below.
The Last of Summer
The Last of Summer (1943) isn't the best-known of Kate O'Brien's novels, and I was quite lucky to find it at Charlie Byrne's a few months back. (I check the Irish lit shelf every time I go in, but I usually find only the novels I've already read.) O'Brien is among the great Irish novelists, though she isn't nearly as well known (in or out of Ireland) as she ought to be.
Raised in Paris by a French mother and an Irish father (both of whom are dead by the time this story takes place), Angèle first comes to Ireland in 1939 with several other actors over on holiday from London. Towards the end of a sunny, sultry August--yes, sometimes in Ireland the weather is really that fine!--Angèle skips out on her companions to visit her father's relations for the first time.
The Kernahan clan is headed by her frosty, magisterial Aunt Hannah (widow of her father's brother Ned), and Angèle is puzzled by Hannah's hot-and-cold reaction to her sudden appearance. She also meets her father's other brother, the bumbling, kind-hearted Uncle Corney; Hannah's cousin-slash-unpaid servant Dotey; and three cousins all about her age--Tom (the mild-mannered, responsible one), Martin (the brooding, cynical academic), and Jo (who is bound for the convent). Despite the weird vibes Hannah is giving off, Angèle becomes quick friends with her cousins, and Martin makes his attraction to her all too clear.
Having studied in Paris, Martin has far more in common with his long-lost cousin than his older brother, who is the quintessential 'mama's boy.' Their father died when Tom was a teenager, and he has managed the farm and served as his mother's most beloved companion ever since. The conversations between manipulative mother and all-too-malleable son leave the reader feeling squirmy, to say the least, and the author's treatment of their Oedipal relationship isn't exactly subtle ("Always she pleased his eyes as no other woman did." Whoa.) When Tom and Angèle announce their engagement after only a few days' acquaintance, naturally Hannah is outraged, but decides to give her blessing while secretly doing her utmost to unravel the attachment. This way Tom will come running back into her arms when the whole thing ends in tears.
Tom and Angèle don't even know each other, but they believe that the magnitude of their infatuation and their essential good natures will triumph over that pesky requirement of a papal dispensation--for being first cousins, and all--as well as the looming specter of another war in Europe, which may very well prevent Angèle from ever seeing her mother's family again. Their attraction makes sense in that Angèle is an orphan looking for a place in the family she's long wondered about, and Tom sees in her all the worldly experience he's been denied through his father's premature death and mother's 'strangling affection' (to use one of my favorite phrases from another Kate O'Brien novel). Without Angèle, Tom will live the rest of his life under his mother's thumb. He believes he needs her, but he'll never understand the real reason why.
In all her novels O'Brien does a marvelous job laying out the tangles of confused thoughts in a character's head, all the fragmentary images and memories and motives, the weird or spiteful thoughts one would never dream of uttering aloud. We are also privy to the interior monologues and personal history of minor characters like Dotey, who is no less fascinating for all her pathetically self-interested scheming, and the 'genially selfish' Dr. O'Byrne, whose daughter Norrie has been in love with Tom since childhood:
Dr. O'Byrne almost nodded his head as he listened to this delicate little speech--so exactly did it tell him what he had already told himself very often about this woman. She's certainly a great fly in the ointment, he reflected now with anxiety. I could hardly choose a worse mother-in-law for my girl. And she's only about fifty, so far as I recall, and she hasn't a thing wrong with her. Superb organic health. Nothing to stop her hanging on in vigour into the nineties. Upon my word, I think Norrie will need the heart of a lion to face it--but sure, that's what the child has! The heart of a lion, and it's set on Tom Kernahan...
And Jo Kernahan, the twenty-one-year-old future nun, is wise beyond her years, surveying the household's growing confusion over Tom and Angèle's proposed union with dispassionate sympathy. Her interior passages are particularly lovely:
And she had visited Sainte Fontaine--and knew that the best part of her soul was waiting for her there, had gone ahead of her to that out-of-date, cold, mediaeval centre of discipline and rigidity and elimination...
This is also the device through which we discover that all three of the Kernahan brothers were in love with Hannah, and that she and Angèle's father (also named Tom...hmm!) were engaged before the elder Tom jilted Hannah (glimpsed her true colors just in time) and ran off to Paris, never to return. Anxious to acquire the wealth and status of the Kernahan name, Hannah accepted Ned's subsequent offer. This tidily explains Hannah's instant hatred of her sensitive, pretty niece, but what's not so tidy (and is all the more satisfying for it) is that Angèle never discovers the real reason behind her father's hasty departure. These stream-of-consciousness passages are too intimate, all too messy, and that's precisely why they're such a delight to read.
I loved The Last of Summer for the same reason I love all Kate O'Brien's novels: the situation is a train wreck waiting to happen. You know early on how it's going to end, but it's so well done you'll never consider putting it down before you've finished it.
Requiem for a Watering Hole
A lot of pubs and restaurants have come and gone since my first trip to Galway back in the spring of 2000. I still mourn my old favorites--the River God Café (sublime food, awesome mermaid mural on the stairwell wall), Bananaphoblacht ("Banana Republic"--they had the best hot chocolate), Camelot (such a romantic wine bar), the Snug (old-school, had just what it said on the tin). Another pub, Taylor's, became a "Gentlemen's Club," turning Lower Dominick Street into the closest thing Galway has to a red-light district (aside from the "gentlemen's club," there are two sex shops, a casino, and a gay bar that hasn't looked open for business in years. Or maybe that's just what they want you to think...)Anyway, I came upon an old matchbox collection from my college days, and I noticed a fair number of the places I got them from are no longer in business. I'm going to be a huge nerd and share them with you:
The Grange Hall used to be my favorite café in the Village--it was a really chill speakeasy-style bar/restaurant with wonderful comfort food (best garlic/herbed mashed potatoes ever), a portrait of F.D.R. above the bar, and a huge mural depicting migrant workers on the back wall. I based the local bar-restaurant in Mary Modern, The Dragon Volant, on The Grange Hall.I had my last meal of the spring 2000 trip at Dish, a modern Irish restaurant in the Dublin city center--good food (I think I had a lemon tart for dessert), but not all that memorable otherwise. I'm pretty sure Dish is no more.Langton's (of Kilkenny) is still open, as far as I know--I just included it in the photo because this is the coolest matchbox ever. I ordered a Sex on the Beach there just to scandalize the elderly bartender.And Caisleán ui Cuain in Kilkenny--such a friendly pub! I've remembered the friendliest places, because it was my first solo trip and I was feeling lonesome. It's under new management with a different name now, something so dull I can't remember it.I never got a matchbox from the River God, though I did buy a t-shirt with a mermaid on it (and later lost it at a hostel in Dublin. That was nearly five years ago, and I'm still kicking myself.) I had a delicious lunch there on my own, then dinner with Kate when we visited Galway in '03, and then with a bunch of my M.A. classmates the following year. When Diarmuid's dessert came garnished with a sprig of mint, he cried, "There's a nettle in me ice cream!" Oh, the happy memories.I think somebody should write a guidebook for time-travelers... because if I had the power to travel back in time and 'put right what once went wrong' like Dr. Sam Beckett, naturally I would rather use it to get some really good food at a restaurant that's closed long since.
Aughnanure Castle
Yesterday I visited Aughnanure Castle ("OCK-na-nure"), a restored tower house (built c. 1500) in a tranquil riverside setting not far from Galway City, and as you can see I couldn't have asked for better weather. (Bats, murder holes, secret chambers...I imagine it might be rather spooky to visit when the weather's not so fine.)
That pepperpot-tower-type thing used to be a watch tower, but most of the wall that connected it to the others is gone (or under grass). Too bad they don't allow picnics here!
The forty-minute walk from Oughterard is do-able but not ideal, since there are a few spots along the busy N59 without a shoulder to walk on—and Oughterard isn't the most happening spot anyway. Seems there are as many closed (some quasi-derelict) shops and restaurants as there are ones still open for business. If you don't have a car, going by Citylink (as I did) may be your best option. Ask to be dropped off at the castle turn-off, which is about 1.5km before you reach Oughterard. It's a very pleasant 2km (20-minute) walk from there.
(Edit: Alas, it seems Citylink has discontinued this service.)
Of Graves and Gardens
I had a lovely time with Seanan's aunt Bríd on my visit to Dublin this week, and had drinks/lunch/coffee with a few more good friends I hadn't seen in awhile. I also wanted to get a bit of sightseeing and picture-taking done (the new edition is still in limbo, but I'm always thinking ahead).My first full day--Mount Jerome Cemetery. Now, I have wandered through plenty of graveyards in my time, but this one really takes the cake on the creep factor.
This graveyard is full of crumbling monuments packed so tightly you can't even approach many of them because there's nowhere to walk except on the stones, which I will not do. All of Dublin is dying to get in, you know. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) There was a funeral going on while I was there. And check this out--not only do I find a Star of David in a Protestant cemetery, but there's a skull inside!:
I had wanted to pay a visit to the final resting-place of one of my literary idols--lots of famous Dubliners are buried here--but the place is huge and you can't read many of the inscriptions anymore. I thought I'd stop by the office if I couldn't find it on my own, but I got so creeped-out and sad from my first walk-through that I didn't have the fortitude for a second try. Plus it was about to rain.
(You walk down to reach those mausolea below ground level. Wasn't feeling brave enough to venture into the open-air corridor to read any of the names.)Second day--the National Botanic Gardens. It was so nice to see (and sniff) so much life after a trip to the world's spookiest graveyard.
The Botanic Gardens are lovely, and even better, they are free! You can take buses 13, 13A, or 19 north to Glasnevin (fare €1.60), and a guided tour is €2. Definitely worth a visit if you're ready for a change from the hustle and bustle of city sightseeing.Thanks to Diarmuid, I've also got a new lunch spot to recommend--Anderson's in Drumcondra (a ten or fifteen-minute walk from the Botanic Gardens), a first-class creperie. I got the vegetarian breakfast galette and a vanilla latté--scrummy!
A Night in Connemara
Last weekend I went to Leenane for a night with Paige and the M.A. girls. I took a walk to a graveyard overlooking Killary Harbour, wrote, read, knit, and went for a wonderful dinner at the Blackberry Café. Then we stayed up late in the hotel sitting room drinking G&Ts. It was lovely!
It rained pretty much the whole time, but at least the rhododendrons were in full bloom.
I have told many people that I am on a yarn diet (at least until the fall), but there was one exception--I needed a few more balls of Kilcarra Aran Tweed for birthday/holiday presents, and I had a hunch the Sheep and Wool Museum (cum souvenir shop and tea room) would sell it for less (€3.25 a ball instead of €3.65, 3.75 in the city, which is quite a cheeky price actually). I went back to the hotel bar and gleefully told Paige I had yarn in my pants. Which was true. It was pissing rain, and I tucked the paper bag o' yarn inside my Goretex. (Please don't hesitate to tell me I'm crazy. Believe me, I know.)
Springtime in Tipperary
This past week I visited Seanan and his family in Tipperary. The weather was perfect, and we went for several wonderful afternoon rambles. Above: chive grass in Bán's garden (we ate some of the heads, which tasted just like onions); tussling with Rory in the garden before walk #1.
Because it was Sunday, we were able to go along a new dual-carriageway under construction. We scuttled through a drainage pipe, which was eerie and fun--made me feel fourteen again. This overpass is a popular spot with skateboarders, hence this silly pose.
The next day we went for a walk in the hills near Seanan's house.
A bluebell wood, a babbling brook, and plenty of sunshine--heavenly!
The walk on the third day was shorter, since we were going to see Coraline in the evening. (Highly, highly recommended, by the way. I liked it even better than the book.)
St. Patrick's Well.
Barna Wood
(A view from the prom, at the start of our walk.)
One of my favorite spots in Galway is Barna Wood, which is the closest thing to an enchanted forest I've ever seen. Gnarled old trees, gurgling streams, great mossy rocks, the ground carpeted with dead leaves, a glorious hush...it really is a magical place.
It's only a half-hour walk (perhaps less) from the promenade! Just keep walking west, turn right at the caravan park, make a left back onto the road out to Spiddal, and keep walking 'til you see the entrance on the right side of the road.
Fine weather, part two
We spent last weekend in Carrick. It was Mother's Day on Sunday, and Brendan's nephew's birthday, and I also spoke to a creative writing workshop on Saturday morning. This particular workshop uses the Amherst Writers and Artists methodology, which makes for a more supportive environment. (I skimmed parts of Pat Schneider's excellent book, Writing Alone and With Others, and will soon be picking up a copy of my own. More on this in a future post.)Here's the title page of a slightly older book in the O'Brien family library:
Cool, huh?On Saturday evening we went to Kilkieran Cottage, an adorable restaurant with this lovely view (I took this picture from the car park):
Within that graveyard are the Kilkieran high crosses, which I must visit in daylight the next time I get down there. Kilkieran is just over the border in Kilkenny, a 15-minute drive from Carrick on Suir. I'll be writing up Kilkieran Cottage in the second edition--the food (I had the mushroom and asparagus risotto and the rhubarb crumble) was delish and the service was very good. (You can see the cottage in the background of the top photograph on the Megalithic Ireland page I linked to above.) I have a soft spot for gourmet restaurants in the so-called middle of nowhere...makes a good meal feel that much more special, don't you think?On Sunday we took a walk through Seskin Wood, on a hill overlooking town, river, and pasture.
Gorse bushes may be common enough, but the sight of all those cheery yellow buds always makes me happy.
Fine Weather
Look what lovely weather we had last week!
The Spanish Arch/Claddagh area gets pretty crowded on sunny afternoons.I wish I could tuck my head under my wing and glide along in calm water on a warm day...what a way to take a nap.
More photos tomorrow.
Tips for a Happier Irish Holiday
At this time of year folks are trying to distract themselves from the winter doldrums by planning their summer vacations, so what better time to offer a bit of advice if you happen to be coming to Ireland? (I'm writing this in the hope that I might snag a few random Googlers, so if that's you, you can read more about my guidebook here. The second edition doesn't come out until next year, I'm afraid. More on that later.)1. Look beyond Dublin! So many visitors spend their entire holiday in the capital. You'll have to travel outside the city to see the real Ireland. I'm not saying you've got to spend a full day on the bus to Donegal--even just a day trip south into the Wicklow Mountains will add a whole new dimension to your visit.2. Don't try to see too much. I hear people talking about renting a car and driving from Dublin to Galway to the Cliffs of Moher to Killarney and the Ring of Kerry to Cork to Waterford to Glendalough and back to Dublin...all in the span of a week! I say it's better to focus on two or three places in that week--relax, take your time, see it properly and leave yourself a couple hours to savor a pint at a cozy old-fashioned pub. You can always see the rest of those places on your next holiday.3. Get off the beaten track, or visit popular attractions in the off season. The times I've most enjoyed traveling around Ireland have been the times I've stumbled upon a wonderful place it seems like nobody else in the world knows about. I try to encourage people to seek out the more wild and remote places (County Mayo, anyone?), rather than just going to the Cliffs of Moher or Killarney like everybody else does. That's not to say the most popular tourist attractions aren't deservedly so, but crowds can sometimes detract from your enjoyment of a place. Try spending a week in Donegal instead of Kerry for a more relaxing (but just as scenic) vacation. (Can you tell I really like Donegal?)4. Buy handmade. If you're looking for an Aran jumper, it's worth investing €100 or more in a handknit garment. (I heard a rumor once about machine-knit sweaters in one of the larger, more commercial shops actually being manufactured in Guatemala. It might not be true, but when so many sweaters don't have a "made in Ireland" label it leaves room for doubt, doesn't it?) For a gorgeous handknit sweater you can wear for the rest of your life, I recommend O'Maille's on Quay Street in Galway or Sarah Flaherty at Dun Aengus on Inis Mór (the largest of the three Aran Islands).
5. Don't complain about the weather. You know it rains a lot in Ireland--that's why the grass is so green! When tourists complain about the rain, it just comes off sounding really ungracious. If you don't like the prospect of putting on a slicker and stout shoes and going for a walk in inclement weather, go to Greece or the Bahamas instead.And a corollary, 5A: Don't let the weather dictate your itinerary. Put on your raingear and get to it!And a further corollary, 5B: In my experience, April and May are the sunniest months. (The last couple of summers have been really wet!) Also, Wexford and the other south-eastern counties get less rainfall than elsewhere in the country (which is why the tourist board touts the region as the "Sunny Southeast.")
The weather here is sometimes gorgeous. Honest! I took this pic of a cloudless sky on 31 May 2006 in Ardmore, County Waterford.Enjoy!And P.S.--please feel free to add your own advice in the comments section. You can also give me a recommendation (a pub, B&B, or what have you), and if I go there and like it I'll thank you on my second-edition acknowledgments page. Go raibh maith agaibh!
Connemara National Park
For Brendan's birthday we took the bus out to Connemara National Park for a night, and everything about our mini-holiday was perfect. The weather was crisp and clear, we had nice meals in the Letterfrack pubs (Veldon's and the Bard's Den; the latter has a slightly more gourmet menu, but the staff is friendlier at Veldon's), and we went for the most exhilarating walk up Diamond Hill, a.k.a. Bengoora, the smallest of the Twelve Bens. (You can see the rest of them in the background in the photo above.)We stayed at a wonderful hostel, The Old Monastery, which hasn't changed at all since I was there with my sister back in 2003. As Brendan said, it's everything a hostel should be, but seldom is: very bohemian (antiques and taxidermies, animal bones hanging on a wall strung with red Christmas lights, a cozy common room with an open fire), clean enough (it's the kind of place that will always have a few cobwebs in the corner), with a friendly welcome and meals included. (A breakfast of porridge and scones is always complimentary, though the hot-pot at dinnertime might have been a one-off--delicious meat-and-potato stew, Brendan's dinner #1.)Here he is showing off the gloves I made him for his birthday (I didn't make the hat, he got it at O'Maille's):
The scarf was his birthday gift last year. Here's a shot taken on the way down Diamond Hill:
And here's the waterfall on the Ellis Wood nature trail, which is only half a kilometer long:
There weren't many people around (I think half the people we did see were locals), which is all the more reason to come. As you can see, Connemara is just as beautiful in winter--so long as the sun's shining!
Adventures in Berlin: the Liquidrom
There are a few places in Germany I never got around to blogging about. I went to the ruins of Anhalter station on my own, and later with the Fat Tire bike tour, and both times I wondered what the heck this building was:
I asked our tour guide, and he said that among other things (offices and a movie theater), this futuristic building contained the Liquidrom, the coolest spa he'd ever been to. There were hot and cold baths, a bar, and a chamber where you could listen to music underwater. Kelly and I resolved to go there before she left, and it turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip. We went along with two Aussies we'd met in our travels, Hinn and Brie, and it was so much fun chatting with them while we kicked back in the outdoor pool.Needless to say, I didn't take any photographs on the inside, but man, this place was amazing. Everything was modern and immaculate, and aside from a few Australian guys at the bar we were the only tourists there. The locals didn't seem at all disdainful of us, either--most people were just chilling (in the buff, or near to it) on beach chairs reading books or the newspaper (which seemed kind of strange to me, considering the entrance price, but I suppose they had seasonal membership).You pay about €18 (plus €3 for towel rental, if you need one) for two hours, and I think it's a couple euros more for every half hour you spend thereafter. The whole place smelled wonderful--I can't recall which scent, it might have been eucalyptus, but it was really soothing. There was a courtyard with a wooden deck and a warm pool, the sound chamber our tour guide mentioned (it was fairly small, and being hogged by the same couple every time we tried to use it), a steam room so steamy you couldn't see your nose if you crossed your eyes, and freezing-cold pools you could hop into after the sauna (if you were feeling brave enough).The sauna was the best part. It had three tiers of wooden benches, so if you sat at the top you'd practically burn your skin off. At the top of the hour the spa dude would come in and pour fragrant essential oil (sandalwood or whatnot) on the red-hot coals, then flap the heat around with a towel. He was very gracious, repeating the instructions for us in English, and making jokes as the air got hotter and hotter. It was the most intense heat I've ever experienced--I had to remove my gold necklace quickly to avoid burning myself--but I was determined to stay sitting on the top tier. The lovely man came up to me afterwards and told me he was impressed that I'd stayed put!Later on we ordered smoothies at the bar, and the same guy who ran the sauna served us. You were given a key-fob at the beginning for your locker, and this also served as a credit card of sorts (so you could leave your wallet in the locker). I was so tickled at how futuristic this seemed!So to anyone paying a visit to Berlin in the future (this means you, Kate and Elliot--you'll love it), be sure to spend an evening at the Liquidrom. Top it off with a good meal and you have the perfect last night of vacation.(One more thing: the entrance is a bit tricky. When you come up the subway steps, you'll see the building to your left, and the entrance to the movie theater and a restaurant is on that side. Walk past that side of the building, make a right, and walk down the block until you see the door to the Liquidrom on your right.)And with that, my Germany blogging has come to an end. Over the next few months I'll be doing research for the second edition of Moon Ireland, so there'll still be plenty of new photos to share!
Inauguration video #1
And my friend Diarmuid sent me this link, asking me if I could spot myself. (I haven't--yet.) Cool, huh?
Mealey D. Goes to Washington
I got up just after 3AM on Inauguration Day and walked to the Mall with my sister and a bunch of friends. We stood for over eight hours in a tight crowd, and braved even tighter crowds on the long walk home. But man, it was so worth it!
I also took a couple videos, which I'll try to upload to YouTube.
Adventures in Germany: Munich
I really liked Munich--it has such a pleasant, genteel vibe to it. Berlin is much grittier, which is also cool in its own way of course. Munich was pretty much my free day; I wanted to amble around the Altstadt, check out a few yarn shops, and do a good bit of writing (fortunately, the hostel I was staying at had a pleasant sitting area with working power points and €2/24-hour wireless internet). I found another Christkindlesmarkt here, though not nearly as extensive as Nuremberg's. The merchandise sometimes varied too--I saw stalls selling (handcarved?) Nativity sets and figures in Munich, and can't recall seeing any in Nuremberg. Food and drink (Glühwein, Lebkuchen, etc.) were the same though.Unfortunately, pretty much all the museums are closed on Monday--the very day I was there--but I managed to squeeze in a visit to the Alte Pinakothek late on Sunday. Best time to visit, as it happened: admission is only a euro on Sunday afternoons! While in Munich, you must visit this museum to see Rubens' stunning two-story painting of the Last Judgment, as well as Albrecht Dürer's famous self portrait. It was painted when he was my age, 28, so seeing it in person had a certain poignancy I couldn't have felt had I viewed it earlier.Another highlight was seeing the Glockenspiel at the Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall) at noon. The figures were fantastic: musicians, dancers, flag-bearers, royalty...even the pope slides out and takes a few bows. The coolest part comes toward the end, when two knights on horseback go for a joust. Utterly delightful, and of course the Christkindlesmarkt spread out over the plaza below added to the magic of it. You can just make out the figures in the tower below:
And of course, I had done my homework on Munich yarn shops, and picked up eight skeins of ggh Silky Tweed from Lanaiolo to make Elaine's Blouse. The yarn is made in Italy, but it's a German label, so I saved a fair bit of cash buying it there (€4.50/ball, compared with $10.50 U.S. retail). Huzzah! (By the way, I finished the blouse over the holidays--photos in a future post.)Anyway, here's one more cool shot (inside the Temple of Diana, at the Hofgarten):
