Up close and personal with a thatched roof. 

Peat--like burning dirt, only stinkier. I can't even imagine how miserable it must have been to cut decayed plant matter out of a bog, let it dry for several months, and then burn it in the same room that houses you, your ten kids, and your farm animals. Ugh. 

sure as kilimanjaro rises like olympus above the serengeti

News flash 1: Congrats to my oldest niece on her eighth-grade graduation! I heard that her dress was lovely--I want to see pictures! Of course, I'm not *completely* enthused that my nieces and nephew are growing up so quickly, but they're fantastic kids and hopefully will be fantastic adults (which makes me feel waaaaay older than I am).

News flash 2: Happy birthday (now that it's daytime in America) again to Uncle Mark!

News flash 3: It's going to rain just in time for me and Kerry to go to the train station, judging by how violently my previously-broken finger started aching.

News flash 4: In a shocking change of events, I'm now planning to stay in Dublin a week later and skip the Wampler Family Reunion in Texas. What could possibly convince me to miss the festivities? Well, I was chatting with my former manager from India yesterday; she and her crazy fiance are still there, as are several of my other expat friends. And, they invited me to go to South Africa and Mauritius with them from June 30 to July 9. I initially laughed this off as a joke...until I started doing some analysis (since that's all I'm good for anymore) and realized that this is a golden opportunity. Tickets to Johannesburg from London are about $2000 cheaper than they would be from SF, the time difference is only an hour because I'm going down rather than across, I would get to see six or eight people whom I love and haven't seen in a long time, and this would ensure that I had made it to five of the seven continents before I turn twenty-five. How sweet is that? I was still slightly on the fence, though, until I got this from Heather:

--------------------------
I hear the bodhran drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet Irish conversation
Shes coming in 12:30 flight (from Dublin!)
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide her towards salvation
She stopped Paddy McCootie along the way
Hoping to find some long forgotten words or celtic melodies
He turned to her as if to say, hurry girl, its waiting there for you

Chorus:
Its gonna take a lot to drag Sara away from Dulbin
Theres nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
She'll bless the rains down in (south) africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

The wild boys cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some Expat company
I know that I must do whats right
Sure as Mauritius rises like Sri Lanka from the sea
I seek to cure whats deep inside, frightened of this traveling thing that I've become

Hurry girl, South Afria's waiting there for you

Its gonna take a lot to drag Sara away from Guiness
Theres nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
She'll bless the rains down in (south) africa, She'll bless the rains down in (south) africa
She'll bless the rains down in (south) africa, She'll bless the rains down in (south) africa
She'll bless the rains down in (south) africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had
--------------------------

This is the second time that I've gotten an encouraging email in the form of a rewrite of Toto's seminal song 'Africa' (for the first time, see my brother's attempt to get me to move home: http://saradoesindia.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-bless-rains-down-in-india.html). I love that song, so I find it quite wonderful that other people rewrite it so frequently. Although I must admit that, when I was writing the title to my post, I looked up the line to make sure I knew it...and it turns out that I always thought it was a *leopress* (aka a female leopard, although the word apparently doesn't exist, as I began to suspect when I realized I had no idea how to spell it) but it was actually *Olympus*. That makes so much more sense!!!

Okay, I should wrap up a bit more of my work; I'm leaving in less than two hours for Killarney. I can't wait!

last week i had the strangest dream

So, I meant to come back to the office and work tonight. However, I had dinner plans with Matt, which I should have known would render me incapable of performing serious work-related tasks afterwards. Not that I'm seriously impaired in any stretch of the imagination, but since many of the tasks that I need to accomplish are related to number-crunching or the ability to craft coherent emails to important executives, I should save myself a lot of future heartache and avoid them altogether tonight. Hanging out with Matt was truly lovely; we didn't leave the ofice until almost eight because I had a conference call, but we went to a pub for drinks, then to a v. lovely dinner (steak and half a bottle of wine *always* makes me happy), then back to the pub for a final drink before I caught a cab back to the office/apartment at midnight. It was just nice to relax with someone I know; we're way, way past the awkward stage where you can still only talk about work (although we do talk about work a lot because, for me at least, that's all I do), so it's just relaxing in the way that real friends are relaxing, rather than the really nice people I've met here who will become friends someday but aren't completely and utterly there yet. So, I'm happy we went for dinner, but now it means that I'll have to exercise some extreme efficiency tomorrow. I'm leaving straightaway from work to go to Kerry, which I'm really excited about--I've heard that Kerry is absolutely beautiful, which is rather necessary after the depression-tinged urbanity of Belfast.

Anyway, hanging out with Matt made me feel much calmer, which is good--it's nice to have a life outside of work, even if he is inextricably linked to work. It's rather sad that I consider 'life outside of work' to be 'dinner', but whatever. Regardless, I should go home and pack and then sleep, since I'm leaving for Kerry as soon as work ends tomorrow. Don't be surprised if I don't write until Sunday--but hopefully I'll have some nice pictures for y'all. Also, happy birthday to Uncle Mark!

if you can see chuck norris, he can see you. if you can't see chuck norris, you may be only seconds away from death.

I am sooooo happy that Chuck Norris facts have become so cool in the past few months. This is major-league vindication for the years that I spent wandering in the wilderness, a teenage 'Walker, Texas Ranger' fan in a mocking world, trapped in a vicious cycle: I had no friends to go out with on a Saturday, so I watched 'Walker', which guaranteed that I would have no friends to go out with the next Saturday, etc., etc. Now if only we can get some Trivette facts going, although it's sad but true the Trivette was never as interesting as Walker. Walker was *amazing*--just when you'd start losing interest in the show, he'd have some episode in which he explored his Native American heritage with trippy camerawork implying an overdose of mescaline. He and his buddies would come back out of the desert in time to roundhouse kick some badguys (in slow motion, of course), before winding up laughing over some show-closing joke at CD's bar. The theme-song alone was enough to make the show amazing, but it was the ridiculously-identical plots that make it truly unforgettable.

Anyway, I accomplished a bunch of stuff at work today, and had dinner with Lizzie and Aldo. The restaurant we were at was showing the opening of the Champions' Cup soccer final between Barcelona and Arsenal; I saw the Arsenal goalie (aka 'keeper') get red-carded/ejected, which was a serious blow to Arsenal, but I left and didn't watch the rest of the match. Apparently Arsenal actually came close to winning, but Barcelona scored a couple of late goals to take the title. Aldo said that he couldn't support a city with a lisp, since Barcelona would be pronounced 'Barthelona', but I personally find that rather endearing. You can tell that I was really interested in the game, right, since I was choosing whom to support based solely on the name? It's that kind of tendency that almost led to me applying to Wake Forest for college. Luckily I have occasional glimmers of sanity, and one of them showed up around the time I was writing college applications. In fact, that may have been one of the last glimmers of sanity I had--I have no indication that my mental state has been anything but unbalanced in the past six or seven years. For the people who may find this in fifteen years when I'm running for president, I don't mean this in a 'I'm a danger to myself and others' kind of way. I mean it in a 'I have way more fun when things are chaotic' kind of way. Although maybe that's worse, since you *know* that means that I will spend a significant amount of time in the Oval Office saying extremely worrisome things to the guy who carries the nuclear football when no one else is around and vehemently denying it if he called me on it in front of others, with the goal that he eventually begins to wonder whether he is insane or whether I am. Oh, and I'd try to balance the budget too, which sounds rather chaotic in its own right. But I'd probably go to G8 summits and forge notes from the Japanese prime minister to the Russian president saying 'Do you like me? Circle YES or NO', or encourage yellow journalism to escalate a made-up conflict between Paraguay and Madagascar over Martian land rights, or change the American flag from the so-passe red/white/blue (what are we, French?) to pink and spangly. If you're tired of politics-as-usual, vote for me in 2020--the Wampler ticket will offer perfect vision for the future!! I mean, if I can come up with 'Wampler 2020 - Perfect Vision' as a slogan in two seconds, think of what I can do for you in four years.

Now that I've ensured that you're so afraid that you won't be able to sleep tonight, it's time for me to go to bed!

lions and tigers come running just to steal your luck

Number 1: Happy Birthday, Michael!!! [for you schmucks who don't know who that is, he's my brother]

Number 2: I left work before seven p.m., which was super exciting.

Number 3: I had tea and toast with jam for dinner. This was an experiment to see if that type of meal will satisfy me when I become an eccentric old lady, particularly if I'm an eccentric old romance novelist. Result: fairly satisfying! However, I bought the high-end preserve-style strawberry jam, rather than the low-end Smuckers extra-sugar variety, which presumably I won't be able to afford when I'm an eccentric old lady, because I will have to spend all of my money feeding my eighteen cats. Until, that is, the low-end Smuckers puts me into a diabetic coma and my cats eat me. Sigh.

Number 4: Since I haven't made anything interactive on my blog in awhile (none of the pictures are interesting enough to vote on, nor do they feature any Abraham Lincoln lookalikes), I've decided to write a highly non-standardized quiz, based v. loosely on recent events. I'll give all of my answers here, and then add a blank version that you can cut and paste into a comment. Doesn't that sound like fun?!?!

1) What's your name? Swamp
2) What's your birth sign? Virgo
3) How many toes do you have? 10, but they're very stubby
4) How do you feel about sweet corn as a pizza topping? It's an abomination
5) If you forgot to get Michael anything for his birthday, what would you like to get him? I wanted to get him an ipod, but he said he didn't want me to get him anything :)
6) What's your favorite memory of Michael? This one time, at band camp...just kidding. Um, I really liked when we used to make his bed into a covered wagon and play like we were settling the Wild West.
7) Are you afraid of Virginia Woolf? No, but I feel like I should read that play someday so that I can be more elitist.
8) What's the last book you read? 'Sunshine' by Robin McKinley for like the tenth time; the last new book I started was 'Collapse' by Jared Diamond (the same guy who wrote 'Guns, Germs, and Steel'), but I haven't finished it yet.
9) If you were to design a washer/dryer combo, would you design the 'dryer' so that it used steam to dry the clothes? No, although it makes washing clothes take a pleasantly-long four hours per load.
10) Have you ever been involved in a) witchcraft or b) a relationship with the Bicycle Robber? If no, would you like to be? No, but why the hell not? I need to get the town to gossip about me in more interesting ways than just whether or not I'm going to fulfill that stupid yearbook prophecy that I'll end up barefoot and married to some Mexican goat-herder.
11) If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be? Cheesy answer: either home in Iowa, or with my friends in Cali. Selfish answer: Morocco.
12) What's the last song you listened to? 'She's Only 18' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers
13) Do you think that 'Aer Lingus' could be banned from the US for sounding vaguely obscene? Aer Lingus is way more obscene than Janet Jackson's breast, so I don't see why we're allowing this double standard.
14) What's the meaning of life? Life means whatever you make it mean.
15) Have you ever ridden horses through a rainstorm? No, but I heard a song about it a few times...
16) Can I pet your wolverine? This question makes no sense for me, and I have no comment about whether or not petting one's own wolverine is acceptable.
17) How do you feel about the state of the world? As long as it ends by giant pieces of mesosphere falling down and causing Category 7 storms, I feel pretty good about it.
18) If you had to choose between wearing something pink and something sparkly, which would you choose? Sparkly. Sparkly and pink preferably, but sparkles are the best.

Okay, that's enough questions--it's time for me to go to bed, and for you to take the test.

1) What's your name?
2) What's your birth sign?
3) How many toes do you have?
4) How do you feel about sweet corn as a pizza topping?
5) If you forgot to get Michael anything for his birthday, what would you like to get him?
6) What's your favorite memory of Michael?
7) Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
8) What's the last book you read?
9) If you were to design a washer/dryer combo, would you design the 'dryer' so that it used steam to dry the clothes?
10) Have you ever been involved in a) witchcraft or b) a relationship with the Bicycle Robber? If no, would you like to be?
11) If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be?
12) What's the last song you listened to?
13) Do you think that 'Aer Lingus' could be banned from the US for sounding vaguely obscene?
14) What's the meaning of life?
15) Have you ever ridden horses through a rainstorm?
16) Can I pet your wolverine?
17) How do you feel about the state of the world?
18) If you had to choose between wearing something pink and something sparkly, which would you choose?

the last i heard from you, you were screaming 'handle it!'

As my more devoted readers will know, I went to Belfast last weekend. I didn't see quite as much as I wanted because the timings didn't work out unless we either took the bus back instead of the train, or spent Sunday night there as well, which means that I didn't see Giants Causeway :( But, I did see the funniest museum ever--the Ulster Museum clearly doesn't get as much government-sponsored lovin' as the National Museum in Dublin, probably because the Brits wouldn't throw as large of a percentage of their culture budget at a museum in Belfast as the Irish would at the state museum in Dublin. The museum had clearly decided to keep a 'temporary' exhibit around for a few extra years because they needed to fill space, but they never replaced the posters saying that the exhibit would end in 2004. Everything was laid out in some strange, inexplicable order, and the coolest thing in my opinion was a gigantic skeleton of a ridiculously-large Irish deer from back in the day when mammals were larger and more exciting. But, the museum was free, so I can't really complain. The gardens around the museum were amazing, and made me wish that I had a garden of my own, even though I have yet to test whether or not I have a green thumb; I'll have to get some plants when I get back to Cali, so that I can promptly travel for weeks at a time and kill them all off by accident. Maybe I'll have to channel my grandfather and have cacti instead.

Sunday, we did a black cab tour of some of the more troubled areas of Belfast; even though it seems impossible that there could still be religious wars in Western Europe in the 21st century, Belfast really was a warzone for a significant period of time, and has only started to really recover in the past few years. There seems to be a pervading sense of optimism, as evidenced by how many high-class hotels are being built in the city center. But, just last week a Catholic kid was beaten to death by a bunch of Protestants. There are a few working-class neighborhoods that seem unlikely to ever get over their mutual hatred of each other, and their neighborhoods are still divided by miles-long, barbed-wire-topped fences. It's hard to imagine why the religions hate each other, since a fight between them seems to be, ideologically speaking, a bit like the Methodists and Presbyterians trying to kill each other. While I am on some level amused by the idea of my grandmother and Lorena throwing molotov cocktails at each other's houses, it just seems so implausible--and yet with the thousands of deaths on both sides, the violence superceded the religion centuries ago.

Anyway, Belfast was depressing but very interesting, since I like history. Also, we stayed in a posh hotel that specialized in very dark interiors; the lounge was decorated in purple velvet and ebony (or faux-ebony) wood, and the lighting throughout the hotel was at that minimal, bordello level necessary for showing the men how pretty the whores are without hinting at the visible indicators of venereal disease. Or, at least, that's what I thought--I'm sure other people would have thought 'chic' instead. Clearly my overwrought imagination needs to start producing prose for my romance novel, but I prefer to discuss decor instead.

Today was thoroughly uninteresting, tomorrow promises to be more of the same, and I just need to get caught up on my work since I'm going away again this weekend--three weekends away in a row makes for some difficult work prioritizations. I'm sure I'll handle it, but for now it's time to sleep!

 Muralists no longer confine themselves to painting about their local problems. 

 Two sides to every story; the Protestants put up murals of Cromwell, while the Catholics remember the hunger strikers who died in British prisons. Each side thinks the other side's heroes are thugs and gangsters--but that doesn't bring them any closer. 

 'Peace gates' seem to be poor names for the gates in the wall that separates Protestant and Catholic communities in Belfast; the gates are open during the week, but are closed at night and on weekends. 

 This mural ain't exactly old--I'm surprised there are any Cromwellians still in existence, but the turbulent nature of Belfast draws out lots of murals featuring v. old wounds. 

 The inside of a greenhouse on the grounds of the lovely Botanic Gardens, Belfast. 

 I'm trying to learn better lessons about work efficiency; don't blame me, I saw this at work. 

this is awful!!

I'm watching some ridiculously terrible movie about two teenagers trying to get enough money to get season tickets for some soccer team. What they're saying is mostly incomprehensible, but the things that are comprehensible are just awful. Every person is terrible, the story as a whole is terrible, and I'm not happy that I'm watching it, but I can't stop.

Anyway, today was boring; I lost the ability to concentrate at around 3:30, but stayed at work until almost seven. Now, I'm going to go to bed, because I've been beyond tired all week--I'm not sure why, but I've been completely exhausted for days. This weekend probably won't help matters--I'm going to Belfast and Giants Causeway, as I believe I mentioned before. Wish me luck with that--I don't really feel like hanging out with people, nor do I feel like drinking, but since I'm going with someone I will have to hang out with people, and my friends has already told me that she wants to go out drinking tomorrow night. So hopefully my mood will change between now and tomorrow.

Okay, don't expect a post tomorrow, but I'll write on Sunday when I get back from Belfast. Goodnight everyone!

born to be mild

Today, I worked. Then, after work, I went out for dinner with Lizzie, who is visiting from the US. It was really nice; we gossipped, vented, shared memories, etc. Now, though, it's 11:28pm and I'm in the office. I got back here with Lizzie around 10pm and was going to just pick up my laptop and go home, but I made the mistake of checking my email, which lured me into the internet for an hour and a half. That's not all that bad, since I spent the whole time chatting with friends, reading non-work-related stuff, and referring Tom F. (aka tom-foolery) for a position at my illustrious company. All in all, today was really good--I had some meeting with managers that helped to meet my goal of 'raise profile in office', which will hopefully help me meet my eventual goal of 'get promoted'. I also had my Q1 review, which went well, so at least it's clear that my contribution is being recognized even if there were a couple of major, grade-A fiascos in the planning and implementation of my trip to Dublin. Regardless of how good that makes me feel, though, I'm definitely ready for bed. The next six weeks are going to be insane!! So that, my friends, means you'll have to content yourself with a short post tonight. I hope that doesn't distress too many of you.

i can't think of a title

I can't think of a title, and I can't think of anything important to say. I woke up this morning at 8:40, panicked because I wondered if I'd forgotten a meeting at 9, so ran in without showering or doing much about my makeup, then arrived to discover that I didn't have any meetings until eleven. Sigh. Then, I ended up staying until around eight, but I wasn't getting much accomplished, so I came home and watched tv with Sonam while eating some ordered-in chicken tikka masala. It's funny; if it weren't for the accents and the bad appliances, I could pretend I was in America, since most of the tv shows are American--I watched 'That 70's Show' and 'Everybody Loves Raymond', and now I'm watching an old episode of 'Frasier'. With my Aran sweater, my Australia socks (that have survived seven years somehow--I can't believe it's seven years since I graduated from high school and went to Australia with my youngest aunt!), and the American tv show playing in the background, I feel oh-so-multicultural.

I'm too tired to keep up the pretense of blogging, so I'm going to go to bed. Tomorrow, I need to get some stuff done, and also make plans for the weekend. Lizzie is visiting from the US, and we're going to try to go to Belfast and Giant's Causeway, but that depends on whether I can get everything arranged. I'm going to sleep now, so that hopefully I'll have enough energy tomorrow to get through the day. Oh, and I have to interview someone tomorrow, which I'm not really looking forward to. I haven't interviewed anyone in over six months, and the rules are different here. In India, you can ask people absolutely anything, but here there are actual anti-discrimination laws, so hopefully I'll remember not to ask whether the person is pregnant. Wish me luck!

true colors shining through

Today was miserable. Actually, I was in a pretty good mood--I think I thrive in masochistic, chaotic situations. Logically, I should have been in a terrible mood. I had a training on successful mentoring from 9-6, but that didn't obviate the need for me to do all of my other work, and so I ended up staying at the office until after 10pm. Spending fourteen hours in the office when it's not even really a crunchtime scenario is painful. It's even more painful when operating under an extreme hangover. When I woke up at 7:30 this morning, I was pretty sure that I was still drunk, although this feeling was blasted away slightly by a v. hot shower. However, five hours of sleep combined with the remnants of too much alcohol combined to make me feel rather violently ill, and I spent the first hour or two of training wondering if I was going to vomit from the effects of the alcohol or from the saccharine sweetness of helping others to develop into effective individual contributors. Ugh. A whole day of corporate-speak is always enough to drive me to the opposite extreme. So I came home after ten p.m., defrosted a single-serving vegetarian lasagna (mistake; I should have ordered Indian food or gone for fish 'n' chips, but I'm trying to eat healthy again and this was theoretically the best easily-available option), and read part of this silly book about vampires that I always turn to when I'm looking for solace. Katie, you'll be happy to know that I've moved on from Martian flat-cats; this book, however, is not really literature even if it is extremely well-written. I'm sure I've mentioned it before ('Sunshine' by Robin McKinley); Robin McKinley is one of my top five (probably top three) writers of all time, even though she writes mostly fantasy and fairy-tale reworkings, primarily because she uses amazing language and imagery to tell stories of heroines making the heroic best of bad situations. Reading part of the book helped me to unwind, but I should have gone to bed two hours ago instead. I don't think I will ever learn.

The mentoring session today was good, but rather standard; it started off with an ubiquitous personality test, and spent an entire afternoon on roleplays, which I typically despise. I got to pretend to be dyslexic, though, which was fun, I guess. Also, my personality test results were happily consistent with other personality tests I've taken, even if I think that my profile makes me sound like an uncooperative bitch. The test was 'True Colors', which is essentially Myers-Briggs boiled down to four personality types, rather than sixteen. I'm a green. According to the results page handed out in the session, that means:

'I am aware of the intricacies of business systems and organizations. I like to design systems that improve the functioning of my organization. I can be impatient with personal interactions, which are irrelevant. It is my goal to design an environment in which everyone can perform successfully. I find it difficult to be repetitive once any system is funcitoning. My greatest organizational contributions are my ideas and my ability to solve problems. I am a designer and an inventor. I contribute my best. I am an excellent analyst. I am principled. I enjoy complex systems. I value intelligence and competence. My attitudes are scientific. I think abstractly.'

Pretty accurate, eh? It's no wonder I never really want to meet people casually while I'm travelling--I have such ridiculously high standards that I am almost always bored or disappointed with casual interactions, and I'd rather hang out alone than expend any effort humoring someone whom I will never see again. I'm fully capable of developing new friendships when I'm in a situation where I'm not allowed to completely disengage from the person, but in general I avoid new people because they're probably lame and not worth the effort. How awful is that?

On that rather depressing and perhaps too-honest analysis of my opinion of humanity, I think I'll go to bed.

my own little world is what i deserve

Typing is currently difficult, because I took full advantage of TGIM--'thank goodness it's Monday', which is a tradition that could only happen in Ireland. Here, rather than bemoaning the fact that the work week has started again, everyone goes out for a pint (or five) instead. It really amazes me how different the work culture is here. Even though I had a million things to do tonight, I realized that I could only finish a small fraction of what I have to do, so I went out instead--but that put me in the solid majority, whereas I would have felt like a complete slacker in the US. I suppose it helps that people in this office get 25 vacation days per year, while I only get fifteen; but people also take a full hour for lunch, while I tend to eat at my desk, and people lock their laptops in their file cabinets before going home, while I take mine with me and work from my apartment later in the evening. Anyway, TGIM was held at the former Kitty O'Sheas, which has been refurbished in the last week and turned into an awful hotel bar; so this was the last TGIM to be held there, and the main topic of discussion was where to shift TGIM for the upcoming weeks. Given the fact that the core group of TGIM'ers has a self-designed tshirt and an internal mailing list, I think it's safe to say that this tradition is taken quite seriously. I followed the pub crawl in its truest form by having a drink at TGIM, followed by drinks at three other establishments. After two pints of Guinness, a baby Guinness (not beer at all, but rather a shot of kahlua with a floater of Baileys so that the shot looks like a Guinness--brilliant!), a smirnoff ice, and a double shot of Baileys (which looked like about ten shots of Baileys, since it was in a brandy snifter full of ice), I came home with the realization that there's no way that I'm going to be as fully competent tomorrow morning as I would like to be. I have a training from 9am to 6pm on how to be a successful mentor, which is rather silly since I've been mentoring people for a couple of years, so it's probably too late to fix my bad habits--but then again, I know some people who could really benefit from an improvement in my life-coaching skills, so hopefully I'll gain something from this. Unfortunately, I also have a conference call at six-thirty p.m., which I need to prep things for, but that means I have to prep it before the all-day training, which means I should really be in the office by seven-thirty. That, of course, necessitates sleeping off all of the alcohol which is causing me to use the backspace button about 150% more often than I usually do, so I suppose I should go to bed!

fools and charlatans, they may get wise

I just got back from a weekend in Galway, and I had an absolutely lovely time. I left Dublin around seven p.m. on Friday, and the busride took about three and a half hours, which was enough time for a small nap and a couple of games of Sudoku. I arrived at my hotel late enough that the room they had saved for me was directly above their nightclub; luckily for me, I was so tired that I was able to fall asleep despite the unpleasant thumping. In a rare display of non-passive-aggressive behavior on my part, I actually requested a room switch for the next night; but apparently the sounds of the nightclub permeate the entire establishment, since I moved up two floors and yet could still hear the music. Methinks the hotel should reexamine their decision to have a nightclub onsite--this was the first time that Lonely Planet led me astray in housing choices, and it's probably because the version I was looking at came out before the nightclub opened.

Anyway, Saturday I took a ferry out to the largest of the three Aran Islands. It was absolutely, completely stunning, and it was so far removed from everything that it was exactly the anecdote to city-living that I had been looking for. The island has a permanent population of about 800; it also has ruins dating back several millennia, and thousands of miles of mortarless stone walls. When I got off the ferry (mercifully not vomiting like the girl sitting next to me, ugh), I procured the services of a man whom one could reasonably guess is something of an alcoholic, but since there are few vehicles on the island, it seems fine that he's a tour guide. He was actually a nice old man, and for ten euros he drove me and about six fifty- or sixty-somethings around the island. This, in my opinion, was much better than renting a bike even though it made me feel slightly lame; the feeling of lameness turned immediately to smugness when it started to rain on the way back into the village after visiting Dun Aengus, and the people on the bikes looked thoroughly miserable. Yes, I am meanspirited.

Dun Aengus gave me that rare feeling of simultaneous peace and euphoria that I've found in only a handful of other places; the last time, I believe, was either my trip to Hampi or to Fatehpur Sikri last September (can't remember which order those two trips occurred in). The overabundance of rocks definitely helps, since it always reminds me of my grandfather, and that in and of itself is enough to create a spiritual experience. But more importantly, I get the most pleasure and satisfaction out of places that feel like they could conceivably be located at the end of the world. Dun Aengus could legitimately claim to *be* the end of the world--for the people who lived there, at least, Dun Aengus looks out over what once would have been an unchartable and unknowable expanse of the dangerous Atlantic. The coastline of Ireland is visible from the island as well, but from Dun Aengus it would truly feel like the sun was setting every day over the edge of the world. Because of that, and because the weather was gorgeous like it had been made for me after weeks of rain, and because I was all alone at the edge of a cliff with the inexplicable ruins of a forgotten people crumbling behind me, I fell in love with the place more deeply than one would think possible from a mere twenty minutes between tour stops. I'm also determined to seek out other end-of-the-world places, since they are much more exciting to me than living cities.

The rest of the trip paled in comparison to Dun Aengus, but was lovely nonetheless. I enjoyed every bit of the time I spent on the Aran Islands, and slept the whole way back to Galway (probably because I mixed a pint of Guinness with an original-drowsy-formula Dramamine for the ferry-ride). Today, I took a bus tour of the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren. The Burren is so named because it's this half-wilderness filled with the same limestone rocks that cover the Aran Islands; the Cliffs of Moher are several hundred feet high, and drop vertically into the Atlantic below. It's rather amusing that I didn't get seasick on the ferry yesterday, but I almost got violently carsick on the bus today. I managed to pull it together, and the vegetable soup I had for lunch certainly helped. I had vegetable soup for lunch both yesterday and today, and while I would be hard-pressed to determine exactly what the ingredients were, they were both outstanding, so I foresee more soup in my future. I think that it's unfortunate that I enjoyed Dun Aengus so much, because it made the Cliffs of Moher rather anticlimactic; if I were to do it again, I would have spent the night on Inis Mor and just roamed around by myself, but conversely I am glad that I saw more of Ireland, so I don't think I wasted my time today. As soon as the tour got back to Galway, I found my bus back to Dublin, and was back in my apartment about four hours later.

I'm now wrapped up in one of the two Aran sweaters that I bought yesterday; it's a purple/mauve color, is rather oversized, has two unnecessarily-large toggles on the hood's drawstring, is absurdly comfortable, and looks somewhat ridiculous on me. I intend to wear it to dim sum all the time this winter so that I can embarrass Tammy with my unfashionable get-up. I need to take some time and plan out my next few weekends, since I enjoyed this excursion so much--but now, it's time for bed!

The Poulnabrone Dolmen--a 5000-year-old megalithic tomb in the wilderness of County Clare. 

A lovely example of how quickly sunshine and rain exchange places. 

I love how people flagrantly disregard signs. 

Another shot of the Cliffs of Moher, Co. Clare. 

The Cliffs of Moher; if I were the type to reference 'The Princess Bride', I might suggest that these were reminiscent of a certain scene in that movie, but since I hate 'The Princess Bride', I shall refrain. 

The problem with Ireland--no one seems to make any effort to throw away their garbage in a receptacle, rather than on the side of otherwise-beautiful roads. 

The waterfall inside the Aillwee Caves in Burren, Co. Clare. 

Rocks are the only abundant 'resource' on the Aran Islands; Inis Mor, the largest of the three, is about 10 miles long by 2 miles wide, but the tour guide said that there are approximately 7000 miles of stone walls on the island. They made walls partially to keep the soil (only a foot deep on most parts of the island, and largely made from composted seaweed dragged up from the surf) from blowing away, and partially to have a place to put all of the rocks. My grandfather would have loved this place. 

From inside the fortress at Dun Aengus, looking through the only entrance. If the boatride to the islands and the sharp, horse-killing rocks beneath the fort didn't stop an invading army, surely inviting them through the doorway two at a time would end any dreams of conquest. 

The ruins of Dun Aengus, a 2500-year-old fort of mysterious purpose (with no water supply and no remnants of housing, it's a bizarre site, but its position on the highest point of the Aran Islands is breathtaking). 

On a clear day, it seems that you can see forever... 

The view over the edge of the cliff at Dun Aengus. 

Me (but hopefully you knew that), on the edge of the cliffs at Dun Aengus. 

The graveyard at Seven Churches; the earliest graves (of the Seven Romany, who journeyed here from Rome) date back to the 9th century, but the cemetary is still in use. 

The ruined walls on the site of the Seven Churches; Inismor, Aran Islands. 

the urgency of now

I have nothing exciting to report about today, since it involved work, work, and more work--and meetings in which I got work piled on top of what I already have. I need to be better about setting limits, but I have trouble delegating when I'm the most logical person to complete a given task. Oh, well, it doesn't matter...whatever doesn't get done tomorrow can't get done over the weekend, and enforced relaxation is exactly what I need right now.

Galway promises to be lovely; after talking to Lauren and some other people, I decided to forsake exploring the city proper on Sunday and take a bus tour of the countryside instead. Hopefully, between the Saturday daytrip to the Aran Islands and the Sunday excursion through the Irish countryside, I will once again be content living in a city for awhile.

So, I hope y'all will understand if I don't blog until Sunday or Monday; after I leave work tomorrow afternoon, I am going to endeavor not to check my email until I get back. That means that I'm not taking my laptop with me, and I will not seek out an internet cafe while I'm gone. Can I survive that long without internet? Is this as stupid and self-destructive as David Blaine trying to survive for a week in a bubble full of water? Perhaps, but at least my skin won't fall off in the attempt (unless I contract some sort of skin fungus and can't use the internet to self-diagnose and treat my problem). Enjoy the weekend, everyone!

 The River Liffey is so much better when it's sunny. 

Would my college experience have been different if Stanford's quad had the same luscious grass as Trinity College? Probably not...but I would have chosen to take my naps there, rather than in the nasty patch of grass outside Green Library. 

'cause i'm cursed with second sight

Observation number 1: David Blaine's newest stunt is idiotic. However, coverage of it is even more idiotic. My favorite quote from this article comes from the end, like almost all ridiculous newspaper quotes: "Richard Washington, 29, a law clerk from Brooklyn, said, "I wouldn't do it, but I feel like somebody's got to do it, and nobody else is doing something this wild."" Mr. Washington, I don't think it's reasonable to say 'somebody's got to do it'. It would be reasonable to say that somebody's got to haul off the garbage, or slaughter livestock (unless you're a vegetarian, in which case somebody's got to teach you a lesson about tastiness), or clean out sewer lagoons, thus implying a distasteful or dangerous job that assists the greater good. By contrast, David Blaine spending a week in a stupid sphere full of water, encouraging his own flesh to fall off, has no bearing on my life and does not assist the greater good. Idiot!

Observation number 2: I think that there's something seriously wrong with my psyche; last night, I slept for ten hours in a deeply-needed bit of relaxation after finally getting my visa issues sorted out. However, I do remember dreaming that I was trapped in some sort of hellish maze with Aragorn (from 'The Lord of the Rings'--and I really mean Viggo Mortensen, I guess, but only in his Aragorn get-up), and the only way out was for us to eat some pumpkins. I never think about pumpkins, and I have no idea why they showed up in a maze, but Aragorn was nice enough to eat the rotten ones for me. I told this to Kim, my colleague in California, and she looked up the meaning of pumpkin dreams online: "To see a pumpkin in your dream, implies openness and your receptiveness to new ideas and experiences. A pumpkin is also symbolic of the female sexuality. Alternatively, it may relate to the popular fairy tale of Cinderella where a carriage turns back into a pumpkin. In this regard, it may represent some situation in which time is running out." I have no idea how this relates to my daily life, but I'm sure Tammy will be pleased to know that I had such a creepy dream about Aragorn--she's been ridiculing me about my fascination with 'Lord of the Rings' for ages. I'm such a dork.

Observation 3: It's so much more tempting to plan trips and things when you know that you won't be arrested if you get caught without proper documentation. I haven't made any international flight plans yet, but I just booked a bus ticket to Galway for the weekend, two nights in a hotel there, and a ferry to and from the Aran Islands on Saturday. Here's hoping a) I don't get seasick and b) it doesn't rain the entire day; a bit of rain would probably be fine, but a lot of rain would be misery-inducing and would just make me wish that I were submerged in a bowl of water with David Blaine. Okay, that was a joke. I'm excited to get out of Dublin for a couple of days, and I'm even more excited to spend a day away from cities in general--I'm going a little crazy with all the people around all the time, and no ability to drive myself up into the hills and blast some music with the windows down and the sunroof open. I think that spending a day exploring neolithic ruins on a desolate island is the perfect prescription for my city-induced angst. Now, though, it's bedtime!

california rest in peace

I'm too tired to write much tonight, but allow me to explain why I have been rather stressed lately. I didn't blog about it at all, partially to avoid causing undue concern, partially to avoid exposing a slight bit of incompetence on the part of my company. Anyway, to make a long story short, when I came into Ireland a month ago, I almost got deported because the right paperwork hadn't been submitted on my behalf, and it's taken the people here a whole month to get it resolved. When I was allowed into the country, they only gave me a month-long entrance permit, which expired today; so when I woke up at 7 this morning to go to the immigration office, I didn't know whether I would be allowed to stay, or whether I would have to find a flight home tonight. Needless to say, I've been just a bit stressed and angry about all of this.

So today, after many phone calls and much back-and-forth, my visa was extended until the end of June. I will still have to go home then, and I can't stay until September like I was supposed to, but at least I didn't have to leave today! So, Ritu, this means I'll see you in California this summer. Unfortunately for those of you who were thinking about visiting me, I won't be able to host you because I won't be here--but now that I'm settled, I can at least travel a bit over the next few weeks myself.

The whole situation was compounded by the fact that I haven't felt settled in a really long time; when I got back from India, I didn't know what I would be doing at work, and then I got the Ireland thing but I was supposed to leave two months sooner than I did, so I was effectively homeless for awhile, and then I got here and immediately had to start dealing with whether or not I would be leaving. Now, though, I'll go home at the end of June, find an apartment, and be settled again, at least for awhile.

So, that's my story. Let's address some other issues from the mailbag:

From 'The Wamp': "I just got my face eaten by one dozen starving, crazed weasels. Your luck must be turning."
--Sorry kid. I hope that you don't fail those finals you're taking today!

From 'anonymous': "Tom Cruise needs a hobby. He should consider enrolling in the Christopher Reeves' Equestrian School, John Denver's Flight Institute, or Sonny Bono's Downhill Adventures."
--That's terrible! But also hysterically accurate.

From 'not applicable': "yes, a little creepy. don't worry, this guy i saw for a while also enjoyed reading my sister's blog everytime we hung out - that's really creepy. especially since he wasn't a hot priest."
--This was in reference to the fact that I read a friend's sister's blog because the friend hadn't updated in awhile. This is a good time to tell the rest of you that I think it's ridiculous that I blog every single night and most of you either a) don't write in your blog often or b) don't have a blog at all. Those of you who comment frequently are exempt from my annoyance.

From 'anonymous': "So I clicked on your suggested link and read the wardrobe story, but the G ad below the story was for an Iowa Divorce Lawyer. Why would that ad show up on the website of an Indian newspaper?"
--Ads can be targeted by the user's location; so if you were located in Iowa when you read the article, you only see ads that were eligible to be shown in Iowa. You're more likely to be interested in a divorce lawyer (hypothetically) in Iowa than a dressmaker in Hyderabad, for instance.

From 'sis': "had a pretty good weekend despite feeling terrible I didnt go to the funeral, the buckets of rain coming down, Sammi getting soaked at Adventurelandand not getting flowers planted I purchased. I think maybe you should purchase the lotto tickets for bro. Seems your luck is better then ours anyways...."
--Did Sammi get soaked by rain, or did she ride the Ragin' River one too many times?

From 'one of the little ones': "You are not boring in any shape or form. You are one of the nicest and most adventurous people I know not to mention loved very much."
--Why can't everyone be this nice? I guess that the fact that 'anonymous' didn't suggest that *I* join Sonny Bono's Downhill Adventures is sort of nice.

From 'zen wizard': "You are very dedicated. You need to take the day trip for some "swampler time.""
--Who are you, zen wizard, and how did you get to be so wise?

Okay, the mailbag's closed for tonight. Goodnight, everyone!

freaking tom cruise

Check this out: http://breakingnews.iol.ie/entertainment/story.asp?j=181291622&p=y8yz9z3z8

According to the article, Katie Holmes' father is upset with her plans to get crazy fit in time for her TBD wedding to Tom Cruise. The best part of the article, though, was the fitness trainer's defense: "[Tom Cruise] told her he wanted her to be the most beautiful bride ever. She was in tears when he said that." Apparently it's a good thing to be told to lose all of your pregnancy weight so that you can finally get hitched? Were those really tears of joy?

Michael...keep buying lottery tickets! My luck hasn't decided which way to go yet.

'erstwhile' should not be used by reporters

Grr, I can't sleep. I knew I shouldn't have mixed all three of my favorite caffeinated beverages! Or rather, I shouldn't have drank them in quick succession; if I had actually mixed tea, cappuccino, and diet coke in one glass, it would have been too disgusting for me to drink enough to overdose.

Anyway, I was checking my mail, and I have a Google Alert set up for news about Hyderabad (and for Iowa, Google, Heath Ledger, and Gavin Rossdale), so I get an email every day with a sample of news stories referencing Hyderabad. One of them was this:
http://www.newkerala.com/news2.php?action=fullnews&id=51504

The funny thing about this article is that they spend the entire article describing some antique wardrobe formally owned by the Nizams (princes, essentially) of Hyderabad, and how stunning the wardrobe is, and how one of the Nizams refused to wear anything twice. But then they end the article with this paragraph: "A handful of visitors, however, claim that the wardrobe is bare. Some say that it contains only a couple of garments."

How the hell is that reporting?! I mean, either the wardrobe is bare, or it isn't. I doubt that the museum adds and removes garments in an attempt to trick the viewing public; based on my experience with museums in India, the regular laborers in the museum probably just spend their days doing a poor job of cleaning stuff while staring at all the tourists.

You should subscribe to news alerts for things about India--the writing is always amusing, and the stories rarely make sense. Now I'm going to try to go to bed again--wish me luck!

so many things that i want to say...you know i like my girls a little bit older

I should really go to bed, since I have to meet my Dublin manager at 7:30am, but since I slept until eleven and then got hyped up on tea, cappuccino, and Diet Coke, that could be difficult. Today was a nice and lazy day, even though I got angry with myself when I realized that I set my alarm for eleven with the intention of doing something productive, and then glanced at the clock at 2pm and realized that I had wasted three hours play Sudoku. Lame!

Anyway, I threw some clothes on and went to the National Gallery. I think my opinion of art is obvious when I recount that Matt later asked 'Did you see the Caravaggio?', I stared at him blankly, and then said 'I must have seen it, I remember reading the display notes in the Caravaggio room'. But, to be honest, I have absolutely no recollection of the painting itself. Sigh. The National Gallery was a good way to kill a couple of hours, and I like portraits because they come close to telling a story about the person who was painted, so it was nice that several rooms were devoted to paintings of famous Irish men and women. However, now I wish that I would have gotten up earlier so that I could have gone someplace more in line with my tastes, like any of the myriad of writers' museums in Dublin.

After the gallery, I met Matt for what was supposed to just be coffee, but turned into an early dinner at one cafe followed by dessert and coffee at another cafe when the first one closed. Today was a bank holiday (my second long weekend in the month that I've been here!), but that didn't explain the closing hours of the first cafe--it seems that most things here close absurdly early, even cafes, as though all retail merchants have come to recognize that they can't compete with Guinness after 5pm. While I do enjoy a pint of Guinness more than one would have expected of a girl who usually sticks to cosmopolitans (*lots* of cosmopolitans), I enjoy cappuccinos and capitalism more, and I wish that I could go shopping any night of the week if I felt like it. This has been v. good for my wallet, though--and it says a lot that Ireland is actually cheaper for me than India was. In India, I could justify everything by saying, 'That's only $10! I'll get five of them, that's such a great deal.' Here, things are like 50 euros, and I can never get to the store in time to buy them anyway, so it's done a lot to rein in my rapacious acquisitiveness.

Despite the nice day, I'm in a really bad mood; I had nightmares about the end of the world all weekend, which usually doesn't bode well. I think I'm obsessed with catastrophe. It doesn't help that I'm not really feeling settled here this weekend; also, I missed my great-uncle's funeral on Saturday, which I suppose isn't such a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but I have fond memories of him and it's yet another case where I missed something in the family that everyone else had the opportunity to go to. He gave me the flute that I played all through school, so I suppose it's fitting that I've been thinking lately that I should pick up the habit again. So anyway, I'm in a bad mood, but by tomorrow it will all be resolved, I'm sure. Michael--congrats on your scholarship and your fabulous weekend, and thanks for ensuring that the bad news will continue for me! I initially didn't believe my brother when he hypothesized that our luck is inversely proportional; but, the kid may be onto something.

I'm going to close with one of my favorite poems, which I happened to be thinking of tonight; it's appropriately bleak. Tomorrow may be better or worse, but at least it will be different!


"Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Line"
by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.