Les Miserables and London

This will be my last post of the Europe trip.

It's my last day before traveling home tomorrow. This trip has shaped and changed me far more than I ever expected of 8 weeks in New York and Europe. London has not been a climax of everything that's passed before, but a gentle transition leading back to home, and for that I've been grateful.

I started my time here meeting up with Tristan, my host, at Victoria Train station. He pointed me in the right direction on the tube and we met up in Whitechapel, the East End of London, right around the corner from his flat. Tristan is a very down-to-earth, easy-to-talk-to kind of guy. I think we'd hang out on a regular basis if we lived anywhere near each other instead of on separate continents. That night was just relaxing, chatting, playing guitar, and going out into the East End to find Indian food, which was really good as you could expect in an immigrant neighborhood. I thought the Bay Area had a lot of people from the Middle East, Pakistan, and India, but it is nothing compared to here. Also, at least at the places I've eaten, food has not been that expensive, especially not compared to the estimates I was given before coming. Kind of nice to save some cash.

The next morning, I awoke, coordinated plans with Tristan, and set out to walk along the Thames and past a plethora of famous sights. I basically stumbled onto the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, which were more impressive than I'd imagined, and seemed straight out of Disneyland, especially Tower Bridge. The Thames, though it holds quite a few impressive landmarks, is quite dirty, as is expected of a major river running through a major city. Along its banks, among a lot of surprising out of place tourist traps, I saw St. Paul's Cathedral, the London Eye, a variety of unidentified but surely important buildings, and then I came around the turn to see Big Ben, Westminster, and the rest of that famous square. I couldn't help but think about Peter Pan where Peter, Wendy, and the rest of the gang fly over all of those buildings.

I eventually made my way past these, St. James Park, and Buckingham Palace to reach Hyde Park Corner where I took a short nap while waiting for my free tour, which was basically walking past everything I'd just seen, but with a guide telling us stories about all of them. There were some fascinating stories, especially about the Germans who got into the Queen's gardens thinking it was Hyde Park (I don't know why they thought Hyde park would have barbed wire and spikes around it) and camped there for three days, the Irishman who snuck into Buckingham Palace to tell the Queen about his ails and the series of events that led to him actually getting into her room and talking to her without security picking up on it, and a much fuller version of the Guy Fox story. Plus we got some great Churchill stories.

The most important part of London, at least for me, hasn't been seeing all the cool stuff inside these buildings, but just being able to associate them now with stories and history. It reminds me of Nephi speaking of how understanding Isaiah meant you needed to understand the geography and culture of the region. We need context.

From the tour, I met up with Tristan and his friend, Rowan, a delightful girl who graduated from the London School of Economics and showed me around the place to appease my curiosity about the institution and potential future studies there. Small campus right in the heart of London. The mentality of the University is to prepare you to contribute to the welfare of the world, which is clearly right up my alley.

Our trio then made its way to a local pub where I engaged in what is apparently a common occurence in London: the pub quiz. This is not a mixed drinks quiz, but a general trivia game which people use as a sort of singles mixer. Tristan and some friends run Single in London, a group which isn't meant to help people date, but just get out and get to know people, and the pub quiz is one of the events they use. Our team came in a respectable second, just a point behind the winner. I contributed quite well to the history and sports questions, which was fortunate because I blanked on the London and Music questions (almost all British music). Lots of fun and great company.

That was the night. The next day I took it easy in the morning and then made the long walk through the financial district to Queens Theatre where Les Miserables plays. I grew up on the music, and knew at least the first half of the story fairly well, but seeing it all linked live on stage, especially hearing the music live, was an impressive and moving experience, and I'll be honest, I cried some. I had to moderate the tears as my allergies have been waging an internal war and I would've looked wretched had I just let go; but watching Jean Val Jean's last moments and the song he sings with Marius, Fontine, and Cosette, who could help but get a little emotional. I don't think there were many dry eyes. It was fantastic, and the themes of the musical are so important and tied together so many of the ideas I've been thinking about during this entire trip: revolution, forgiveness, poverty, and many others. It was beautiful, and easily the best musical I've seen. Wicked fans have nothing on it. Nothing.

I again met up with Tristan and we got cheap but satisfying Chinese food and headed over to Camden, the heart of London's rock scene, and went to the Dublin Castle where we listened to some emerging artists. They were all solid, but didn't blow me away, though the volume of artists going through that place is impressive as they have shows like 5 nights a week and 3-4 artists per show.

I suppose I should do a list of favorites to finish up. I'll save that for when I get back and get clever. For now, adieu and I hope to see you all very soon.

Wordsworth walked these hallowed hills

They should have called this place the Hill, Forest, AND Lake District. Just Lake District doesn't accurately describe it, though the reputation that has preceded it has not been overstated. This place is stunningly beautiful, and as my camera still insists on only taking impressionistic pictures, I must do my best to describe it in word for you, and lock it into my memory for myself.

I arrived at the Hostel in Ambelside, right on Lake Windemere's edge at about 1:30 pm. I took no delay in simply stowing my backpack and setting out immediately with my journal, two books, and a letter. Though it is June, the weather still held a tinge of cool air especially when the breeze picked up, and I kept my fleece over my Irish training jersey, adjusting the sleeves and collar as necessary to keep cool or warm. This place, though still frequented by cars and travelers, has a simple serenity that accompanies its exciting beauty. Hills rise up all around with the three lakes tucked in between them, rivers connecting them and running through small forests and pockets of hearty greenery. I made my way around river bends, following stone fences, and listening to the sounds of a variety of birds and wildlife before the path turned upward around the backside of the hill. A variety of fern that I've seen in Scotland as well covered the hillsides in an orderly fashion, occasional stems of purple, bell-shaped flowers popping up in between while common yellow flowers added their accent. Short grass marked the paths that criss-crossed the hill tops, creating a patchwork of yellow-green fields. I marked a knoll that rose up and was sure that it would have a good view of the Lake. As I summited, the view exploded before me in a dramatic fashion that you only expect in films, but rarely receive in the real world. A breeze picked up, and I nestled myself behind a rock, using it as a shelter and seat, and read Worsdworth aloud to myself. He walked these hills and shores, and I can understand how such beauty inspired such poetry.

That night I walked out onto a pier. The town now quiet, the lake still, the scene was again one of rest and release. Flies danced through the air without any other reason to be there than to dance, for beyond that they were occasionally picked off by a sparrow, or fish which swam beneath my feet, popping up to grab a low-flying bug. The sky illuminated yellow-blue light from behind the hill upon which I sat only a few hours earlier. I felt my soul at peace moreso than it's been since the Northern cliffs of Ireland or the Aran Islands, which though not long ago were the most profoundly peaceful moments of my life. Having these repeated in a more recent nostalgia is quite the treat.

Today, I took the long walk up to the upper two lakes, walking a similar path and then branching off. My trail would take my towards Rydal Cave, but before arriving, an explosion of scenery, similar to the previous day's, would greet me at the second lake. More people were out at these hours, and many of us greeted each other, though some avoided eye contact. My first description accurately describes all of the lakes, there calm waters surrounded by emerald hills. Fishermen frequent the waters, and ducks nuzzle the shores, looking for food. I found Rydal Cave, but before that found another one, slightly hidden away before it. I had to climb a 10-foot slope to get in, and had only the orange AF light of my rebellious camera along with the occasional flash to see once I got further in. The main chamber had a small passage that broke to one side, down which light progressively ceased to shine. It was like a scene out of a horror movie where I would only be able to see beyond 5 feet with the occasional flash from the camera, and I wondered if I'd catch an sort of subterranean creatures in there as the cave looked not to have been entered in some time. I'm sure my parents will be thankful that the passageway opened into another chamber that did not appear to have any further entries deeper into the rock. A great time, nevertheless, was had by all (myself and any creatures who chose not to show themselves).

Rydal Cave was dissappointing as it was one giant chamber that used to be a quarry. I ignored the warning sign about falling slate to find this out. The one treat was that it had a large pool of water filling it that had fish swimming around and appeared to have the type of depths that house cave dwelling monsters, but again, no such luck. It appeared that there might be underwater channels going deeper in, but I was obviously not equipped to do any spelunking.

A note before I finish: It's weird being in England after first having gone to Scotland and England. I feel like I'm in hostile territory with Union Jacks and English accents surrounding me. It's going to be very interesting to see London and all of its history from an English perspective. I will be reading a great deal more on a lot of these matters when I return.

I've made my way back to Ambleside and tomorrow leave for Liverpool. I have only one week left on this incredible journey which means one week left of mixed feelings towards ending it. I'm looking forward to seeing friends and family, but I'll miss this concentrated dose of history, culture, and life lessons. Until next time.

Scotland and the return of musings

If I had to do a free form linkage of words of my experience thus far in Scotland it would go as follows: Harry McKenna, Celtic Football Pride, Strolls by Pipers, Haggis and Cooking, Discussions of Politics, Do We Really Want to Help Others Become Economically Sufficient if it Means That They Will Have to Worry About the Same Things as Most Americans?, What's Really Important in Life, Beer, Catholicism Can Be Beautiful, Free Museums, Castles, Parks, and More Parks, Scottish Ancestry, God Kill the Queen, A Pub Reserved for a Party when Margaret Thatcher Dies, the Bonds of Family, False But Beautiful Facades, War, How We Start Thinking About More Important Things When We Don't Have to Worry About Eating, Republicans and Democrats, Irish Strengths and Weaknesses, The Gambia and a Sack of Rice, A Flash of Horse, a Huge, Strong Highland Bull, Watching What We Say, and that's probably more than enough.

I'm way behind on my journal, so this entry will be elaborating on the previously mentioned topics as a way of storing mass amounts of information, and then I'll just keep writing in my journal from where I am. Some of this may be boring, so if you have any particular interests in what was mentioned above, I will label individual parts. This may also be more free form than past entries. So here we go...

On Harry McKenna: Harry was our delightful host in the city of Glasgow. A native Glaswegian, he absolutely loves his city and it shows through as he often displayed an accute knowledge of the city's and country's history and culture. He tried to give us a unique perspective by showing us sites off the beaten path, such as the Gallow Gate, the derelict buildings that are being torn down and replaced in what he described as a "Pheonix rising from the ashes." A lot of his notes will be quite prominent throughout these entries and I will point it out as I go. I loved conversation with Harry as he was able to talk about absolutely any subject and have great insight because of his vast knowledge of various topics (especially history, politics, and religion). Beyond that, he was very good at playing devil's advocate and dissecting superlative statements and generalizations. I was glad that he had a descent number of questions for me as I had a peppering assault of them for him. He fed us haggis, let me wear his kilt, showed us good Scottish tradition, and converted me to Glasgow Celtic. Speaking of...

On Celtic Football Pride: There are two teams in Glasgow, the Celtics and the Rangers, and wearing the wrong jersey into the wrong part of town could get you spit on, beat up, or worse, and I'm not kidding. I bought a Celtics jersey, and I'll explain why I bought that one instead of a Rangers one, but I was asked in 3 bars to cover up the jersey as they didn't allow colors. Bairds Bar, the Celtics Bar, was one excepetion, and the locals were delighted to see a Yank wearing the green and white hoops. Now, the Celtics team was formed by Brother Wolfrid in the mid 1800s as a charity to pay for soup kitchens to feed the poor Irish who were coming to Glasgow (and who received a heavy degree of discrimination as the Low Lands were heavily Protestant). The club was and is a source of National pride for those of Irish descent, and for the Nationalist community, which is quite strong here. Feeling a rather strong inclination towards both of those camps, I chose to buy a Celtic jersey as my Scottish soccer jersey and am quite happy about it. Harry showed me two documentaries about it, and I'm determined to find Glasgow Celtic games when I get back to the US. Speaking of football in the US, it's about time that Americans caught on to the beautiful sport.

On Strolls by Pipers: We walked around the center of Glasgow, which was quite impressive, and the main drag was a gradual slope up a wide thoroughfare which was frequented by various political booths, street performers, business people, tourists, and locals. The political booths were the most fascinating for me as they ranged from enviromental and human rights issues to the communist party and others covered with images of Che Guevarra (who is loved over here, and I still have mixed feelings about him, so I better read some more). Besides that, Jenny got some nice pictures of a young and talented piper. I gave him some coins for his playing and the picture.

On Haggis and Cooking: Scottish cuisine, in my mind, was basically famous for Haggis. That was about all I knew of it. Little did I know that Scotland, not the South, is actually home to frying anything and everything. Ever had fried pizza? You can here in most fast food places. Fried Mars bar? Yep. Haggis, Black Pudding, Sausage? They will fry them all. Fish and Chips (also fried, in case you didn't know) are also quite good here. Harry prepared us Haggis and I don't know why people are so adverse to it. I kind of liked it. You probably won't want to hear the ingredient list, but without knowing them, I think most people would be fine. Recitations of poems about haggis preceded the serving of the dish, and Harry explained how important it was in the culture as it was the main course of food for the poorer classes when the upper class shoved them to the side.

On Discussions of Politics: This topic could go on forever, but speaking with Harry was quite enlightening. He is quite happy with the Scottish system of government, which, at least to me, is coming more and more to resemble a true democracy (especially as they try to break from England). He says the health care is quite excellent, though dentistry is not as good (his explanation was that dental work is usually not life threatening). That is also improving, though. I've honestly forgotten a lot of the discussion, but it highlighted certain hypocrisies of politics in both the US and the UK. One interesting difference that I've noted in all of the European countries that I've visited, and in contrast to the US, is that people accept taxes as necessary to provide certain services. I'll elaborate on this when I get to Parks, but people understand that you pitch in your part for education and health and other services, regardless of your personal use of them. In the US, especially the conservative tax policy viewpoint, is lower taxes and private provision of those normal services, but to me it seems that some services will be completely neglected otherwise and that doing such will marginalize many groups, especially the poor, and not help to raise up others. Though that leads me into another topic. Before I get onto that topic (cancel lead-in), I've been thinking a great deal about how I wish government were simpler and people governed themselves based more on principle. That's one of the reasons we must have social programs--because people are too selfish in providing for others and many people expect "charitable" types to do it and hoard the rest for themselves. This is rather vague, but trust me, the gears are turning quite a bit on this issue. Back to the lead-in.

On Do We Really Want to Help Others Become Economically Sufficient if it Means That They Will Have to Worry About the Same Things as Most Americans?: I was explaining to Harry about my experiences in Peru and how being there instilled in me a desire to help those I met to gain the same economic freedom that we enjoy in the U.S. At the same time we were discussing how those in third-world or developing countries often have more of a focus on family, community, and religion and seem to be happier despite lower standards of living. It hit me, why do we want to gain the same socio-economic status if it only means less happiness and more preoccupation with pointless and materialistic worries. It dawned on me that instead of needing more money, we need a better standard of living through healthcare, education, housing conditions, and so on.

On What's Really Important in Life: As I said: family, community, religion. I've had a great deal of thoughts on religious freedom and its role in government, but I'm still mulling over those.

On Beer: What a social scene and community come along with it. I've still had a great deal of respect from people when I tell them that I don't drink, but I've been able to peak into that culture simply from being in pubs and bars. I've drunk so much soda here, and now understand that you want to nurse that drink as long as possible. It's more about socializing, talking, and watching a match than it is about getting drunk. I also understand moreso why God has restricted it--it still causes a great deal of damage, a great deal. There are many who can handle their liquor, but also many who can't, and when you think about it, it's one of those things that doesn't serve a real purpose even. People drink beer to socialize, but why can't you just socialize? Smoking has been more of a fascination for me as it is not only a monetary cost to smoke, but a huge cost to the environment in terms of waste, and in terms of the health of others because of second hand smoke.

On Catholicism Can Be Beautiful: I saw Catholicism in terms of heritage, culture, and family, and it was the first time where I truly saw the beauty of the religion. I suppose I should've known as all religions, when practiced based on their true and actual tenets, point us towards doing good and loving and serving others. We need to find common ground with other religions, not point out rifts, differences, and disparities. We need to acknowledge the truth that there is in others.

On Free Museums, Castles, Parks, and More Parks: Glasgow is amazing as almost all of their many museums are free and provided for by the city council. As I said before, people here tend to accept taxes as necessary to provide for such services. Glasgow is covered in Museums showing amazing art and history, the latter especially important in understanding the culture and people (I could go on about my latest thoughts on history and its importance). We went to Crookston Castle which overlooked the city and you could see pockets of greenery in every direction. We then walked through what's been voted Europe's Best Park (Pollok Park), in the middle of which is the Burrell collection (an amazing personal collection that was donated to the city, over 9000 paintings, sculptures, tapestries, glasswork, furniture, pottery, and even door frames). There are highland cattle, horses, and athletic facilities in the park as well, and it's gorgeous. They help contribute to Glasgow and Scotland's attitude of protecting the environment (regardless of how you feel about global warming and its sources, protecting the environment is our responsibility. Mormons especially should understand that).

On Scottish Ancestry: I should just call this Ancestry, but this trip has invigorated me to family history as I want to find out where I came from, what my history is, and who my ancestors are (history is so important). I've seen names like Burns and Cameron, both of which are in my past. Also, the Gaelic word for family is Clann (interesting), and Plaid is not a pattern but a cloth while Tartan is the pattern. The tartan comes from the Scottish clans as each clan had its own Tartan to distinguish it. I want to know my history so that I can find my tartans.

On History: So I need to mention this. History has determined where we are now and why things are done the way they are. To understand our history is to understand ourselves, and we should learn from both the mistakes and successes of the past. I've come here and been quite impressed by how much others know of American history and politics while we know so little of the history and politics of other countries, and I've been disturbed as I've realized how egocentrically we teach history in high school. Basically, we're vaguely taught western history and only those events that directly lead to the formation of the United States. We tend to brush over the black spots (from which we should learn) and emphasize how great we are. I suppose it's true that the victor does write the history, and we've tended towards that role, but we need to understand what is out there in the world and get more of a worldview. It's been amazing for me and will be so for all who actively strive to gain it.

On God Kill the Queen: Harry would turn off the TV if God Save the Queen started playing. He used to think that Scotland could change the system while still a member of the UK, but he's seen years of discrimination from Westminster Abbey and, like so many others in Scotland, has decided that it needs to be its own independent nation. We discussed how many acronyms the US uses (see US, UK, LA, etc etc) and Harry said the only prominent acronym in Scotland is FTQ (and that doesn't mean FOR the Queen). I'll leave you to figure that out.

On A Pub Reserved for a Party when Margaret Thatcher Dies: The Scottish and Irish, and even a lot of English (the Northerners) HATE Margaret Thatcher, and I mean HATE. From what I've heard, she was an extremely nasty prime minister, especially towards those who now hate her most (surprise). Harry says that his brother has reserved a bar for a party for the day that she dies (which is fast approaching), and I wouldn't be surprised by similar parties across the UK and Ireland (the IRA tried to kill her and almost succeeded). Harry said that she would 'experiment' with tax and public policies on Scotland, and those that failed she would tweak until it was suitable for London and surrounding areas. I have to research more after what I've found.

On the Bonds of Family: Being out here, especially in Scotland and Ireland, has planted in me the strong desire to find my history and heritage. It has also reminded me of what I saw in Peru and the importance of strengthening our family bonds that are here now. Harry's bond to his family (all of them live within miles of each other, three generations) was also a great example to me.

On False But Beautiful Facades: Glasgow has an incredible heritage of beautiful architecture, but at the same time are very progressive in modernizing their city. They've taken to preserving the facades of the buildings and demolishing behind them and then building modern buildings with the classic front. One of the funniest examples of this was a building where the design didn't have it reaching all the way to the front, so they had it supported and saved for whenever there would be a building reaching all the way. Fun stuff.

On War: I realize that there is way too much to put here and still have to ponder about this.

On How We Start Thinking About More Important Things When We Don't Have to Worry About Eating: So an archaeologist at New Grange pointed out that the advent of most religions coincided with the coming of farming. It reminded me of an economics problem where (this may be quite confusing) people stopped hunting monkeys after they had enough income to eat enough. Basically, if you don't have to just worry about eating, you can start to care about other things as well. Interesting concept, and I want to think about it more.

On Republicans and Democrats: Ugh. I won't start now.

On Irish Strengths and Weaknesses: Irish people are incredibly friendly, outgoing, and willing to talk to you forever. There really are a lot of red-headed people here, and a lot who wear green as well. I thought it might just be stereotypes, but it really happens. The weaknesses weren't so much about the people, but their food isn't that great of quality, and the roads and driving are absolutely nuts. There should be more here, but I'm getting tired of writing =).

In fact, you can just ask me about the rest for now.

On The Gambia and a Sack of Rice: This is a good story.

On A Flash of Horse and a Huge Highland Bull: Great art.

On Watching What We Say: Observing and responding.

Maybe I should drop out of college and join a rock band...

No, really. This show made me seriously consider it.

Let me set the stage. I meet up with Tori in front of Trinity college and we take a train that gets progressively swallows more and more people until it's about to burst and until it heaves us all out onto the street by Malahide Castle. We stroll through beautiful green grounds, past the giant castle, and onto the awaiting field where people are beginning to sprawl out and wait for the opening band. Bats for Lashes, our first group, sounds like a combination of Portishead, Bjork, and Lorenna McKenna (sorry if that spelling is wrong) and is quite entertaining, but people are only mildly enthusiastic and cheer most when the lead singer announces that "Our beloved Radiohead" will soon be out. As we wait, the rain begins to fall and a double rainbow appears, appropriate given that Radiohead's latest album is called "In Rainbows." We can see both ends touch the ground on opposite sides of the venue. Perfect. Out walk Thom Yorke and the boys, greeted by cheers from the crowd that has now grown to who-knows how many thousands. He asks if we saw the rainbow. The crowd replies in unison.



Thom Yorke is a rock star. He could've been a one man show himself by just dancing around, making funny faces at the crowd, and rocking out with his guitar, regardless of the amazing light set up or what the rest of the band was doing. It seemed to me that he loved what he was doing, loved playing the music he was playing, and when he played a new song with just him and the piano, he still seemed a little bit nervous about how it would be received, despite the fact that he knew that the crowd would eat up pretty much anything he threw at them. He did seem to take a bit of advantage of the situation, often waving to the crowd just to hear the screams or standing on the stage lapping up shouts and applause, but man, if you had thousands of people singing along to your songs and just loving your music, wouldn't you do a little bit of that, too? I want people to sing along to my songs.

Radiohead's newer stuff is a little bit lower key, and the audience's energy seemed to reflect that. I had some raucous guys behind me, but that was more due to a loss of balance caused by imbibing than it was their desire to dance around. They did know the words to pretty much every song, though. Still, we finally got a higher energy song (I think it was Mixamitosis?), and they were jumping a bit, and since I had needed some rock out time, I jumped in, and we all started jumping and bouncing off of each other, and soon we had a good sized pit. It was just what I needed.

The stage itself was brilliant. Long tubes of lights hung down from the stage ceiling and would emit the color of choice, or flash in sequence with the music. High spotlights came down from behind, also emphasizing whatever color was in particular use for the song. The back panels were video screens showing up close images of what was happening on stage from various angles. The best use of this was when Thom Yorke played his piano and the lead guitarist backed him up, just the two, on "You and whose army?" and the camera was right on Thom's face. He winked, made eyebrow gestures, and facially played with the crowd as he sang and played one of my favorite songs.

Radiohead played almost all of their new album, but managed to play some of my absolute favorites, breaking out extra drums for "Tree Fingers," rocking out to "My Iron Lung," (of which I would have an awesome video if I could get videos up, and finishing their second encore with their amazing performance of, what else, "Paranoid Android." The lights on that last one were absolutely phenomenal, with the very last chorus having everything burst into radiant rainbow colors after having limited themselves to mono-colors for the rest of the evening, the contrast was perfectly timed and left me quite elated. I will have videos when I come back, because trust me, you should want to see them.



I wish that they could have played for hours more, but the show eventually had to end. It had been quite the ride, and left me thinking about the emotional power of music, its power of expression, and about trying to reach people in that way. Music holds such a special place in my heart, and I've been thrilled that Harry, my latest and greatest host, has had a guitar at his place. For now, I am left to reflect on the amazing show I've recently been party to, accomplice with, and a witness of. It was a brilliant experience in every respect and only left me wanting to play more, watch more, and live more music.

How well can I do without pictures

To be honest I had wanted to do a photo essay by now, but the lack of a USB port and my camera's current technical difficulties, brought on by a nap on the beach and the ensuing entrance of sand into my CANON SD 1000 (powerful sounding names do nothing to protect from the elements), have left me without the ability to do so. I'll do my best to describe events since the last entry.

From the Aran Islands we headed straight eastward across the island to Dublin, the capital city of the Republic. We were greeted at St. Stephen's Green Park by Marta and Josephine, Marta being one of the courchsurfers who would host us. We met up with Joao, my original contact, and set out to wander around the Temple Bar area, which is loaded with tourists and locals alike. Melody and Jenny went off to look for souvenirs and check things out while I headed to the pub with Marta, Joao, and Ricardo (visiting Joao from Portugal). The Temple Bar Pub was huge and included a lively band playing tradiontial music with a large group surrounding it who would spontaneously erupt into song and clapping. We settled into a corner and scrounged for schools which were hard to come by. I started talking to Ray and Sarah, Dubliners sitting next to us, who asked where I was from. When I responded, they were surprised and Ray paid me one of the best compliments I've had all trip. "Really? I had you pegged for a Dub when I saw you." Fantastic. We talked a bit about politics, which is quite rough as Ireland is also facing a recession and is going through the court process of quite a scandal with their recently resigned Prime Minister Berty O'Hearn, and about gaelic sports. Unfortunately seasons are just ending, except for Gaelic Football, which we miss by about a week.

From Temple Bar we headed back to the apartment. Joao and I talked about music, Marta displayed an incredible amount of knowledge and insight into the history of Dublin, especially considering that she's an Italian who's been living here for only 7 months. We took a drive around the city that included sights of St. Patrick's Cathedral and Christ's Church. Driving in bigger cities is far more hectic for me than Paris as drivers don't seem as fluid, traffic lights are more ill-timed, streets and their corresponding signs (if you can find corresponding signs) more confusing and random, and all of this with me on the 'wrong' side of the road. Safely arriving at the apartment, Marta made some amazing pasta and we headed out to check out Temple Bar by night.

Talk about a party. They have hen and stag parties here on weekends, so you see large groups of guys or girls dressed up and out looking for fun. The Dubliners seem to treat it as a form of spectator sport and were out in full force, especially those preparing for the big opening Gaelic Football match coming the next weekend. I talked with Kieran, Mickey, and Max, Mickey being the boisterous spokesperson, and all of them huge jokers and quite entertaining. We ended up at an awesome split level pub that had a band on an outcropping between floors. Sadly, this was a cover band, not live Irish music. We went to another, smaller and cozier venue that had another cover band. I get tired kind of early, but did my best to muster conversation in the loud environment.

The next morning, we set out to drop off Melody at the airport, luckily made it to the right one, and then set out in search of the church building. Through a combination of asking for directions, though directions varied, random wanderings, and a general sense of direction, we made it to church, right across from the cementery. I didn't know the significance of this particular cementery at the time, but later found out that it is where Michael Collins is buried, and kicked myself for not having wandered it more (we did have about 20 minutes where we did so before church). Church was testimony meeting and it was fun to listen to all the testimonies given in the delightful Dublin brogue where th's become t's, u's become o's, i's become oy's, and so on. I've been trying to pay great attention to the accent. I think I'll have to live here a while before I can really try to pick it up, though it's fun playing around with it.

Following church, Jenny and I made our way to Trinity college and the Book of the Kells for a wonderful tour of the University that may be part of the inspiration for Hogwart's. No, really. Check out the library and all the awesome traditions they have. Pretty amazing, especially that library. From there we took the tour of Kilmanum Gaol (Jail) which helped get a lot more insight into the original independence movement and the history during the late 1800s and early 1900s. I'm reading about all of this in more detail in two books I bought. Ireland's history seems really important to me beyond the simple curiosity, but as something upon which to look back and learn from.

The next segment of the tour should be driving across the all of the South Coast. I'd like to give more of a summary as this is quite long and then add details later.

Basically, we drove down to the Dingle Peninsula which provided some of the most breathtaking scenery yet. We hung out in local pubs, listened to Irish music in pubs which were a little less lively than I was expecting, talked to locals, and roamed the town. We camped on the beach where we awoke to an amazing sunrise and morning. From there we set out to the abandoned Minard castle which is pretty cool and situated on a pristine beach near an old port and celtic well. I bathed in the freezing ocean water. Yum. The drive around the ring of Kerry was gorgeous, but I was more preoccupied with hairpin turns and roads that wouldn't fit two Hummers side by side (which made watching semis passing tour buses quite the experience). Jenny got car-stir-crazy and we eventually ended up in Cork in a hostel. Plans to roam Cork, which appears to be quite the city, were foiled by rather ugly weather conditions which had previously not been manifested. Everyone everywhere had thanked us for the lovely weather we'd brought. No more. We drove to Kinsale and toured Charles Fort. If I ever build a fort, I may model it after this one as it was so intimidating that it was only once attacked. Rock of Cashel was the next stop. This was another fulfillment of my Irish-countrside, intimidating-fort-on-a-hill, think-about-medeival-clans-and-such, boyhood dreams. By the way, the Gaelic word for Family is Clann. Makes more sense now, eh?

So now we are in Glendalough, tucked away in the Wicklow mountains. The ideal setting for mists and green hills that are so often the typical portrayal of Ireland. Everything is still beautiful and amazing and I hope it doesn't become monotony in green tones. I'll give more of my thoughts on Irish culture and society some other time. For now, it's off on a hike, off to New Grange, and off to leave this stupid car in Belfast. =). It's served us well, but it's time to stop driving and get out and enjoy more.

'Til next time.

My Mecca

Ever since I was a small boy I felt a strange affinity for a land I'd never seen, a people I'd never known, and a heritage which I only knew by the blood that ran through my veins. When I was 12 I lied to my friends that I had family in the IRA, though at the time I barely knew what connotations that carried, only that I felt it was important and that I wanted some link to my adopted home country. I've always wanted to come to this place and I've only been here for two days, but this already feels more like home than sleeping in that small room with two beds behind San Tomas expressway with a trampoline out one window and Roger the Cat curled up on Luke's bed.

First arriving in Belfast, I felt almost overwhelmed as I began to recognize street names: Kings, Donnegall, Falls, Shankhill. This is where the Troubles raged for so many years, where so many Irishmen gave their lives, some to keep the nation divided and others trying to unite it. Many don't know that it wasn't a battle of religions, Protestant vs. Catholic, but of Politics, Ireland vs. England. The picture above is me in the Falls Road area of Belfast, the Nationalist side, and where I would most definitely have resided had I been there and had to have chosen a side. I would've used the Surnames from my Mom's side, Daly or Burns, though I wouldn't have been a Catholic, and wouldn't have agreed with the violence that was so heavily employed by both sides. They always portray the IRA as terrorists, but the question of one man's freedom fighter being another man's terrorist was ever present in my mind as I walked these streets. I held back tears as I walked the memorial the the IRA and Sinn Fein members who had fallen during the Troubles and as I meditated on the will power of the hunger strikers who died trying to obtain political prisoner status.

Early the next morning, Melody, Jenny, and I headed back to the Falls Road area to the Sinn Fein bookstore where we met a lady who had been shot by a soldier during the 70s when she was simply trying to let other people know that one of the hunger strikers had died. They did so by banging garbage can lids on the ground to call out the people to march in solidarity. A soldier fired a plastic bullet at point blank into her hand, and killed the girl just down the street from her. She referred us to the Irish Republic Museum, run by ex-political prisoners such as Johnny, with whom I'm pictured below. He talked to me about the reasons behind the troubles and showed us a film that summed up the main parts of it. As I watched the film, I recongized parts of the neighborhood around which we had been walking that previous evening and current morning--masked IRA and UVF gunmen patrolling the streets with submachine guns, people walking in protest, and police crackdowns and raids. Understanding the history of the Troubles and of Irish Independence is to understand why people are fighting us in Iraq, why so many have fought imperialists, and the importance of recognizing the will of the people and their ability to organize autonomous nations, among so many other issues. Belfast was stirring.

We set out for Coleraine to meet up with the wonderful Ms. Tori Harris who is doing an internship at the University there. After picking her up from the train station we headed to the Antrim Coast where we played around in ancient castles, ran around on the Giants' Causeway, made new friends, drove on the left side of the road, dumpster dived, at ice cream, did handstands (well, I did anyway), and were in general awe of the absolute beauty that is Ireland. Jenny summed it up best when she said, "This is Heaven." If I thought I wanted to live in Switzerland, it was only because I'd never been here before. It wasn't as mentally challenging/stimulating/stirring as Belfast's history, but it was the most beautiful landscape I've ever beheld.


It only continued to get better as today we drove down to Galway which turned out to be one of the worst driving experiences of my life. Try to imagine tiny two way streets with cars parked on them so that it's basically a one-lane two-way street, crowded beyond belief thought it was only midday, with pedestrians darting left and right, twists and turns that led to random one way streets and do not enter signs, no immediate parking in sight, and this all with a stick shift at my left side, my steering wheel on the right side of the car, and all of us on the left side of the road. It is a miracle that we have avoided all accidents. I will rival Jason Bourne in driving ability by the end of this trip. So, after passing a few trucks that should NEVER have been driving on tiny country roads due to size, load, and inability to pass almost anything without only going 20 km/h, after speeding due to having to wait behind said trucks, and after some amazing views with handstacked rock fences that partitioned the most luscious green countryside you'll ever see from here to the afterlife, we finally made it to the ferry to Inish Mor of the Aran Islands. If I thought that the Giant's Causeway and the North Coast were amazing, this place blew me away. We biked all over, which was the best workout of this whole trip, and ended up at Dun Aengus, a Iron/Bronze age fort overlooking 300 foot sheer cliffs. Look at the pictures. I didn't attempt a handstand here. I did hang out over the edge as much as I could. I don't know why I have this ridiculous obsession with heights.

So Ireland is amazing. If I never make it back to the United States, this will be why. I'll find some job at a hostel here, marry some French girl who's lived in Ireland since a little girl so that she has the right accent, and live in the land that I've dreamed of since I was just a wee lad. Enjoy this last video, I have plenty more for when I get back. To me those cliffs were the end of the world, the place where my feet were meant to find the end of their travels, at least in finding that contentment and heritage and homeland that I've longed for since before I can remember. My home, at last.

I will own a European vehicle.

Okay, first off let me apologize that pictures will not be accessible for this portion of the blog, and it's really a shame because some of the most incredible pictures yet are in this batch. Having Melody along to take photos is such a blessing. She's also been a great source of knowledge, good company and conversation, and just a comfort, though she's had to put up with me. I've become so introspective and meditating. It's probably the result of having traveled on my own for almost a month and having stretches of hours where I don't say more than a few words.

France is honestly amazing, though the country, as with all places, has its share of faults. I almost feel like Voltaire whose book I am currently reading and happens to be his thoughts on his three years in England. Only a fleeting week has passed for me to analyze and try to take in more than a thousand years of culture, architecture, cuisine, and beautiful villages. Melody and I have flown around Paris and the surrounding country side in our little Renault and I can say one thing for sure about driving in France--It is SO MUCH fun. I even drove around the Arc de Triomphe and up the Champs Elysees. We had a whirlwind tour by car of the Opera Garnier, the Madeleine, the Place de la Concorde, the Louvre, le Centre Pompidou, and other sites. I have to get myself one of these little cars. They're amazing.

I want to talk a little about my birthday, probably one of the most unforgettable days of my life, let alone birthdays. It started out with wonderful letters from friends and family that buoyed me and gave me a lot of peace. As an appetizer to the day, we toured le Musee d'Orsay, my new favorite museum, where I fell more deeply in love with impressionism and art in general. We went to church at the Paris branch where I felt a great amount of peace after not having been able to make it to church for over a month. From there went out to Versailles, famous for its luxury, gardens, and painted ceilings and walls. I have to be honest when I say that it only helped me to more deeply understand why the people dragged Marie Antoinette and Louis to la Place de la Concorde to feed them to Madame Guillotine. How can you live in such a place when your people go starving? I'll reserve further thoughts on this topic for personal conversations. The real blessing of Versailles was that we had recently found out that President Uchtdorf would be giving a fireside that night, so we went and got wonderful seats. The meeting strengthened my testimony of the gospel and the leadership of the church. What wonderful men we have at the head of the Church of Jesus Christ. I was in more...humble...clothes than most of the rest because of my status as a traveler, but as the meeting ended I walked towards an exit that appeared to be in the direction he would exit and we were able to shake his hand and greet him. Way cool birthday. There's more, but it involves getting a bit lost in the French countryside, a lot of rain, our proposed hotel being closed, and not finding a place to stay until 2:30 am. Unforgettable =).

The rest of the French countryside involves Mont Saint Michel, D-day Beaches, Ponte du Hoc, tiny french towns, Caen, Roeun, Bayeux and its tapestry (amazing and way good audio guide), and Giverny. That's very brief, I know, and you're probably wondering what all those places are or what significance they have, but that will be explained in person so as to save you time reading.

I'm now in Ireland. This place is my Mecca, but that will be saved for later. A preview will be the Irish flag flying in Belfast, Falls Road, and a monument to fallen IRA soldiers. If you don't know the significance of those, PLEASE go read something on the troubles and Irish Nationalism. Please. This place is almost holy ground to me. Until next time.