...which is something that every "California dreamer"would love to hear, and quite frankly after leaving the harsh minus temperatures of Vienna, I was looking forward to...but to have this announcement happen whilst still stuck in an impossibly long immigration queue at New York JFK...it was not really what i wanted to hear at that moment.
And the fact this was the Saturday before Christmas meant the likelihood of getting booked on any other flight in the near future was bleak (yes, thank you CNN for the news reports we could watch with eyes glazed over in that immigration queue, stating the busy season had started, airports were packed..and packing tips? pack your patience....). I kept the words in my mind of the Life Coach I'd been sat next to on the plane, saying if I didn't make it, I wasn't meant to be on that flight. Oh, and just to go off on a slight tangent here, I'd also gotten yet more confirmation that my decision to leave Austria early next year was the right one...as if I didn't have enough already
Right, so feeling relatively peaceful despite all this and some minor mayhem, myself and fellow traveller Sacki got the last 2 seats on a reasonably timed flight out the next afternoon, which would get us into LA in time to soak up a bit of that California sunshine. It had taken some time to be rebooked, but the atmosphere was rather 'gemuetlich' for the situation, which made my mind flashback to an article I'd read about sleep deprivation being much like being drunk. So off to the Ramada inn, which was your standard run of the mill airport hotel, but hey, free food, a bathtub and fitness centre, i was not really complaining. not to mention the chance at a proper nights sleep rather than the added 6 hrs of travelling to LA, and having a few laughs over dinner (well, some of it completely inane and putting paid more credit to the sleep deprivation theory) and breakfast and to be honest, it was one of the best missed or delayed flights i've ever had!
and the departure at JFK went incredibly smooth, as did the arrival at sun drenched LAX (and with much joy did i shed that woolly overcoat!).
so far so good for the beginning of the cheeky one month holiday...watch this page!
25 December, 2007
10 April, 2007
Não falo português/I love Lisbon!
A daft early start, a truant airport bus and Austrian logic fortunately were not fortelling of the Portuguese Easter weekend break. Thankfully there was an equally desparate American bloke needing to get to the airport, so we got our own taxi and both made our flights on out of here and the rest of the journey was without incident and therefore I was able to resist dipping into the Belgian beer on my stopover..at 8am...
When I landed the sun was shining strong and bright, and only moments after entering the taxi queue joined forces with Christine, an American with Argentine origins (but living in London)...who also thankfully spoke Portuguese and got us to where we both needed to be. despite being absolutely knackered upon checking into the Travellers House (which I do recommend - clean, cozy, full of thoughtful little extras and very well situated..not to mention very centrally located on the pedestrian street of Rua Augusta), my insatiable travel curiousity took hold and i set out...although not making it very far before the good deals of the shops along Rua Augusta. a stark reminder of why i could never, ever live on Mariahilferstr. in Vienna. Later located a cheap sandwich place for lunch, avoided harrassment from the wandering sunglass vendors and just absorbed the atmosphere, surrounded by dilapedated grandeur with a latin flair.
Within the last dying moments of Christine's blackberry, we fixed to meet at mine at 20.30 and headed off in a taxi to a place of her choosing - a bar/restaurant that was formerly a clown school. The place had a fantastic view, with options for eating inside or on one of the terraces. After getting our fill of tapas and caipirinhas and revelling over the prices in comparison to our home cities,we moved to the low key dimly lit establishment downstairs, and encountered the library, full of such titles as 'the art of juggling' (in portuguese, naturally...) and claimed our territory in the old swimming pool, now with a built in raised floor and cushions, remniciscient of a slightly arabic setting. both having been up since ungodly hours owing to our early flights, we settled on selections from the vast tea menu. v.chillax and atmospheric.
Saturday was my solo day - with everyone in the hostel seemingly already in their own groups, after some 'early morning' TCB took off to properly explore. and shop. later after partaking in some seafood at a streetside cafe named for the sun shining on its terrace, my feet and credit card got an ample workout. not entirely finished though, i made my way up to the castle (Castelho de São Jorge) for a late day view of the harbour and city surrounding it. All the while attempting to capture some images with the throwaway camera i'd bought...the real one was forgotten at home owing to ungodly hour of packing before hideous early morning flight.
After a small sieste, the evening kicked off with some drinks at Christine's hostel bar, and we were also joined by her roommates there, a couple of kiwi lasses (Zoe and Becs), who also call London home. After the caipi happy hour ended , we made for a veggie restaurant called 'Terra (earth)'. This was on their hostel list of recommendations, and quite rightly. a homely, intimate setting with a small garden outback, the food is served buffet style so one call load up on all manner of organic and veggie goodies such as fresh salads, couscous and pasta variations with tofu, to name but a few. A fine evening of eating drinking, and Zoe's sharp wit and tongue keeping us thoroughly entertained.
Sintra, a fairy-tale town set amongst Lisbon's surrounding green mountains was where we passed our Sunday afternoon. After having impeccable timing on the trains, we arrived and wandered the twists and turns of this place, dotted with castles and moorish influence. You would almost expect everything from Cinderella, Snow White or various Lord of the Rings characters to emerge at any time. unfortunately we soon discovered that all the attractions closed on Easter Sundays, so outside viewing only. we made our way up the windy road to the hilltop castles...mostly by bus, thank god...and well worth it. The castle (d'oh! forgot the name) was almost surreal - an architectural melting pot with everything from moorish design to the influence of Germany's crazy king, Ludwig II. There were massive entraces with spikes emerging, which could have easily been Nintendo's influence for the design of Super Mario Brothers. and just as we thought we could pass through it and see something else....it was blocked (cue music played when Mario gets hit by a fireball or similar). Unfortunately as we did not have any of the tricks Mario and Luigi might have, we had to settle for our outside view once again.
After making our way back down, some starving, some freezing (or was that just me on both counts?) we wound up by default in a place near the main square called 'Bristol', which seemed a bit average and perhaps too touristic at first, but we were wrong. In fact, the only drawback was the lack of optoins for the vegetarian Christine. However, the roast chicken was great, and very reasonably priced, as were the enormous salads, and the service excellent enough that we left a 25% tip in the end (something i very rarely do in europe!).
One reason for this was that, the precariously placed milk for the tea landed itself in the path of my sleeve, and ended up all over my trousers. after having numerous waitstaff rush to me and fobb about with paper towels, one of the waitresses offered me 2 aprons to wear, and said they would have my trousers dried by the time the meal finished.
good to her word, as I finished up the last bit of chicken they were returned to me - completely dry,and folded. I'd definitely go back there!
Upon arrival in Lisbon, we were all in need of a sieste before the evening activities. after waking from my warm slumber, I'd met a lovely new girl in my room, Charlene from Paris. after chatting with her for a bit and realising she was on her own, i invited her to join. Shortly after doing so, yet another solo traveller rocked up in the kitchen..where had they been?
Of course, it was the last night so I was finally meeting them (see my entry entitled 'the art of timing' !)
Not put off at being the only guy amongst our group of cackling females, Matthias (from Germany) joined in as well and we collected the other girls at Oasis hostel (which I would also recommend if you're in Lisbon, it looked fantastic with massive bathrooms, a kitchen and they do your laundry for you! 24 Rua Santa Catarina - an address ingraned in my mind from the taxi trips there!).
After they finished their 'toilette' we were off to a sort of 'cross hostel' party at a small slick looking club near the water. There we met others from the 2 hostels and drank tangerine sangria, a drink a bit more dangerous than it looked or tasted..and to think Tiago, one of the owners of Travellers House, questioned if they were real...pfffft. my raging hangover the next day was certainly a testimonial on that one!
Although the party never seemed to fully kick off, we managed to make our own party fun. Having more kiwis added to the brew deffo helped with that, and there were some most entertaining moments such as the Bollywood dance guy with whom I managed to have some sort of choreographed routine towards the end of the night! Christine kept the sangria flowing and the rest..well, i'll wait for the photos to see! In any case was a real laugh, and after returning to the hostel Charlene, Matthias and I continued courtesy of his local beer in the fridge, until god knows what time.
Woke up slightly sicky and acidic the next morning, and the last thing i wanted to do, or felt mentally and physically equipped to do was the journey back to Vienna. my big outing for the morning was to the cashpoint to be able to pay up at the hostel.
After saying my goodbyes, sloppily gathering my personal belongings and dividing into carry on and required check in (an exercise which should have had much more effort put in..more later...) Charlene helped me down the stairs and into a taxi. and so it began...
first off, the Brussels airlines queue was far and away the largest one in the departures hall. I searched for Zoe and Becs, without avail, but then again their London Gatwick flight queue was non existent. heeugh. And i must say, I am amazed by the fact that I managed to stand in said queue for half an hour. Meaning, i felt positively ill. but i couldnt leave the queue, who knows when i'd get checked in otherwise, and for a few shining moments, i thought i might be forced to use our favourite office Spanish phrase 'necesito vomitar!'..knowing that at least the last word there is the same in portuguese, i'd have had some hope! finally after swaying and suffering and nearly being run over by hyper belgian children with a trolley, i had done it.
The first flight was a non-event, thankfully. passing in and out of sleep, forgetting where i was, and most likely drooling. v. nice.
But then we were delayed one hour in Brussels..and to make matters worse...my checked luggage did not join me here in Vienna. nearly 24 hours on, it has still failed to join me. it is completely AWOL, unlike the other times my luggage has failed to appear at the Vienna Airport and was delivered in a few hours.
(note: in all my 10+ years of travelling, i have had lost luggage 3x..all at Vienna Airport!)
And murphy's law reigns supreme; the other times, it was not of any urgency. This time, however, I am due to fly again tomorrow on another hideously early flight to Cape Town for work...and am minus some rather important things in the checked bag (this is where i wish i had made a better effort in the luggage separation. in fact, the only reason i am in this predicament is owing to that bloody liquid restriction, as i had somehting more than 100ml. bollocks!!!).
grrr. grrr.
at least the bits in between the airport disasters were good.....eeehh.....
When I landed the sun was shining strong and bright, and only moments after entering the taxi queue joined forces with Christine, an American with Argentine origins (but living in London)...who also thankfully spoke Portuguese and got us to where we both needed to be. despite being absolutely knackered upon checking into the Travellers House (which I do recommend - clean, cozy, full of thoughtful little extras and very well situated..not to mention very centrally located on the pedestrian street of Rua Augusta), my insatiable travel curiousity took hold and i set out...although not making it very far before the good deals of the shops along Rua Augusta. a stark reminder of why i could never, ever live on Mariahilferstr. in Vienna. Later located a cheap sandwich place for lunch, avoided harrassment from the wandering sunglass vendors and just absorbed the atmosphere, surrounded by dilapedated grandeur with a latin flair.
Within the last dying moments of Christine's blackberry, we fixed to meet at mine at 20.30 and headed off in a taxi to a place of her choosing - a bar/restaurant that was formerly a clown school. The place had a fantastic view, with options for eating inside or on one of the terraces. After getting our fill of tapas and caipirinhas and revelling over the prices in comparison to our home cities,we moved to the low key dimly lit establishment downstairs, and encountered the library, full of such titles as 'the art of juggling' (in portuguese, naturally...) and claimed our territory in the old swimming pool, now with a built in raised floor and cushions, remniciscient of a slightly arabic setting. both having been up since ungodly hours owing to our early flights, we settled on selections from the vast tea menu. v.chillax and atmospheric.
Saturday was my solo day - with everyone in the hostel seemingly already in their own groups, after some 'early morning' TCB took off to properly explore. and shop. later after partaking in some seafood at a streetside cafe named for the sun shining on its terrace, my feet and credit card got an ample workout. not entirely finished though, i made my way up to the castle (Castelho de São Jorge) for a late day view of the harbour and city surrounding it. All the while attempting to capture some images with the throwaway camera i'd bought...the real one was forgotten at home owing to ungodly hour of packing before hideous early morning flight.
After a small sieste, the evening kicked off with some drinks at Christine's hostel bar, and we were also joined by her roommates there, a couple of kiwi lasses (Zoe and Becs), who also call London home. After the caipi happy hour ended , we made for a veggie restaurant called 'Terra (earth)'. This was on their hostel list of recommendations, and quite rightly. a homely, intimate setting with a small garden outback, the food is served buffet style so one call load up on all manner of organic and veggie goodies such as fresh salads, couscous and pasta variations with tofu, to name but a few. A fine evening of eating drinking, and Zoe's sharp wit and tongue keeping us thoroughly entertained.
Sintra, a fairy-tale town set amongst Lisbon's surrounding green mountains was where we passed our Sunday afternoon. After having impeccable timing on the trains, we arrived and wandered the twists and turns of this place, dotted with castles and moorish influence. You would almost expect everything from Cinderella, Snow White or various Lord of the Rings characters to emerge at any time. unfortunately we soon discovered that all the attractions closed on Easter Sundays, so outside viewing only. we made our way up the windy road to the hilltop castles...mostly by bus, thank god...and well worth it. The castle (d'oh! forgot the name) was almost surreal - an architectural melting pot with everything from moorish design to the influence of Germany's crazy king, Ludwig II. There were massive entraces with spikes emerging, which could have easily been Nintendo's influence for the design of Super Mario Brothers. and just as we thought we could pass through it and see something else....it was blocked (cue music played when Mario gets hit by a fireball or similar)
After making our way back down, some starving, some freezing (or was that just me on both counts?) we wound up by default in a place near the main square called 'Bristol', which seemed a bit average and perhaps too touristic at first, but we were wrong. In fact, the only drawback was the lack of optoins for the vegetarian Christine. However, the roast chicken was great, and very reasonably priced, as were the enormous salads, and the service excellent enough that we left a 25% tip in the end (something i very rarely do in europe!).
One reason for this was that, the precariously placed milk for the tea landed itself in the path of my sleeve, and ended up all over my trousers. after having numerous waitstaff rush to me and fobb about with paper towels, one of the waitresses offered me 2 aprons to wear, and said they would have my trousers dried by the time the meal finished.
good to her word, as I finished up the last bit of chicken they were returned to me - completely dry,and folded. I'd definitely go back there!
Upon arrival in Lisbon, we were all in need of a sieste before the evening activities. after waking from my warm slumber, I'd met a lovely new girl in my room, Charlene from Paris. after chatting with her for a bit and realising she was on her own, i invited her to join. Shortly after doing so, yet another solo traveller rocked up in the kitchen..where had they been?
Of course, it was the last night so I was finally meeting them (see my entry entitled 'the art of timing' !)
Not put off at being the only guy amongst our group of cackling females, Matthias (from Germany) joined in as well and we collected the other girls at Oasis hostel (which I would also recommend if you're in Lisbon, it looked fantastic with massive bathrooms, a kitchen and they do your laundry for you! 24 Rua Santa Catarina - an address ingraned in my mind from the taxi trips there!).
After they finished their 'toilette' we were off to a sort of 'cross hostel' party at a small slick looking club near the water. There we met others from the 2 hostels and drank tangerine sangria, a drink a bit more dangerous than it looked or tasted..and to think Tiago, one of the owners of Travellers House, questioned if they were real...pfffft. my raging hangover the next day was certainly a testimonial on that one!
Although the party never seemed to fully kick off, we managed to make our own party fun. Having more kiwis added to the brew deffo helped with that, and there were some most entertaining moments such as the Bollywood dance guy with whom I managed to have some sort of choreographed routine towards the end of the night! Christine kept the sangria flowing and the rest..well, i'll wait for the photos to see! In any case was a real laugh, and after returning to the hostel Charlene, Matthias and I continued courtesy of his local beer in the fridge, until god knows what time.
Woke up slightly sicky and acidic the next morning, and the last thing i wanted to do, or felt mentally and physically equipped to do was the journey back to Vienna. my big outing for the morning was to the cashpoint to be able to pay up at the hostel.
After saying my goodbyes, sloppily gathering my personal belongings and dividing into carry on and required check in (an exercise which should have had much more effort put in..more later...) Charlene helped me down the stairs and into a taxi. and so it began...
first off, the Brussels airlines queue was far and away the largest one in the departures hall. I searched for Zoe and Becs, without avail, but then again their London Gatwick flight queue was non existent. heeugh. And i must say, I am amazed by the fact that I managed to stand in said queue for half an hour. Meaning, i felt positively ill. but i couldnt leave the queue, who knows when i'd get checked in otherwise, and for a few shining moments, i thought i might be forced to use our favourite office Spanish phrase 'necesito vomitar!'..knowing that at least the last word there is the same in portuguese, i'd have had some hope! finally after swaying and suffering and nearly being run over by hyper belgian children with a trolley, i had done it.
The first flight was a non-event, thankfully. passing in and out of sleep, forgetting where i was, and most likely drooling. v. nice.
But then we were delayed one hour in Brussels..and to make matters worse...my checked luggage did not join me here in Vienna. nearly 24 hours on, it has still failed to join me. it is completely AWOL, unlike the other times my luggage has failed to appear at the Vienna Airport and was delivered in a few hours.
(note: in all my 10+ years of travelling, i have had lost luggage 3x..all at Vienna Airport!)
And murphy's law reigns supreme; the other times, it was not of any urgency. This time, however, I am due to fly again tomorrow on another hideously early flight to Cape Town for work...and am minus some rather important things in the checked bag (this is where i wish i had made a better effort in the luggage separation. in fact, the only reason i am in this predicament is owing to that bloody liquid restriction, as i had somehting more than 100ml. bollocks!!!).
grrr. grrr.
at least the bits in between the airport disasters were good.....eeehh.....
15 March, 2007
The Art of Timing?
Blog blog blog, its all so new and fun and novel....I trust my entries will be inversely proportionate to the amount of time passed since i signed up for this account.
but in the interim, just a few late night meandering thoughts coming to you direct from my humble abode in Vienna (the little disclaimer bit, the person this blog is meant to entertain most is me, hah). and i'm in pain, but not enough to stop me from typing, heehee. no, kickboxing class is not that bad, but sometimes I do wonder why I do this training and will my spinning back-kick ever improve? something to ask a magic 8 ball I guess.
but the thing that sparked my urge to write this evening....tonight the instructor said 'timing is very important in our sport..'...which means i am probably destined never to improve, as timing is not exactly a strong point in any area of my life. One of my most commonly used phrases is 'feast or famine', and there's always that tendency to wander onto U-bahn platforms just as the gruff voice announces 'zurück bleiben bitte!' and it drives off..without self. I am also the girl who manages to show up somewhere right before..or after the big event (Dublin the weekend before 17 March, for example)...and those oh-so-unseasonal rains in supposed South African summer...we normally don't get this, really...snow in Barcelona...this is the first time in 3 years, amazing! Clearly he who made that statement didn't realise who they were dealing with, teehee. and more recently, tne interruption in the mild winter in Calgary left me with the exact 3 days i was there in November dipping well into the minuses (-40) and warming right after I left.
I inherit this weather changing travel curse from my mother, who has an unerring ability to bring bad weather wherever she goes. The upcoming forecast which says our late winter comes on the day she arrives for her Viennese visit and leaves pretty much on her flight back over the Atlantic puts paid any proof to that which I've known from an early age. I'm sure the 2 of us travelling together would have the ability to bring about the next ice age to the unlucky destination. boo. I've other examples of my rubbish timing, but best not be putting those in public view....
ciao!
but in the interim, just a few late night meandering thoughts coming to you direct from my humble abode in Vienna (the little disclaimer bit, the person this blog is meant to entertain most is me, hah). and i'm in pain, but not enough to stop me from typing, heehee. no, kickboxing class is not that bad, but sometimes I do wonder why I do this training and will my spinning back-kick ever improve? something to ask a magic 8 ball I guess.
but the thing that sparked my urge to write this evening....tonight the instructor said 'timing is very important in our sport..'...which means i am probably destined never to improve, as timing is not exactly a strong point in any area of my life. One of my most commonly used phrases is 'feast or famine', and there's always that tendency to wander onto U-bahn platforms just as the gruff voice announces 'zurück bleiben bitte!' and it drives off..without self. I am also the girl who manages to show up somewhere right before..or after the big event (Dublin the weekend before 17 March, for example)...and those oh-so-unseasonal rains in supposed South African summer...we normally don't get this, really...snow in Barcelona...this is the first time in 3 years, amazing! Clearly he who made that statement didn't realise who they were dealing with, teehee. and more recently, tne interruption in the mild winter in Calgary left me with the exact 3 days i was there in November dipping well into the minuses (-40) and warming right after I left.
I inherit this weather changing travel curse from my mother, who has an unerring ability to bring bad weather wherever she goes. The upcoming forecast which says our late winter comes on the day she arrives for her Viennese visit and leaves pretty much on her flight back over the Atlantic puts paid any proof to that which I've known from an early age. I'm sure the 2 of us travelling together would have the ability to bring about the next ice age to the unlucky destination. boo. I've other examples of my rubbish timing, but best not be putting those in public view....
ciao!
14 March, 2007
Prestige Status, Hurrah!
Finally, after all these years of travelling, I've made it into the frequent flyer top tier - bring on the special treatment! :-D
13 March, 2007
The Guinness Holiday Weekend
Perhaps a good way to start a soi-disant travel blog is with a travel story? Even if it is just a wee little mini break, but anything outside Vienna counts, right? right. Always necessary to get out on occasion...
One reason for this is the first thing I'll note regarding my passport control experiences:
Ireland: Upon noting the visa from my other rather recent visit, asks if I am a regular. I just laughed, and said its just the 3rd time for my whole life (which averages out to once per decade, give or take). He observes that, well, something must be bringing you back...yeah, you're a lot nicer than the Austrians, har har. Which was responded to with a smile and 'well, we try!' and off I be on my merry way to 40-some odd hours of this..yessss! 'Failte' indeed.
Austria: I think I did manage to get a grunt when handing my passport over, right before the ferocious stamping proof of entry into it. I wonder if their particular talent for conducting any manner of transaction without actually speaking is innate or learned...
OK, I digress and won't continue on this for fear of turning the blog title into '10 Things I Hate About the Locals..'..I am sure this exists elsewhere though!
Having the place score higher on the 'niceness' factor scale was a definite asset in making this weekend a perfect tonic for the über-stressy week chock full of meetings preceding it. The final bits were still there as I arrived at the guesthouse and Anssi (of Thai full moon party fame) greeted me collapsed on one side of the door frame, suitcase on the other. buuaaaah. I will also blame this for my other little technobimbo sort of mishaps at the weekend, of which Anssi had a small list...but lest we forget I am not the only one who fell off the sidewalk pre-pint consumption, thank you.
Saturday 'twas a new day! A fine start to a sunny day in Dublin (no, that was not a typo..) is always a good post breakfast visit to the Guinness Brewery! Nothing like a morning pint with a panoramic view over the city. On the practical side, i.e., not to sound like some sort of raging alcoholic it is good to arrive early to avoid the mammoth queues. Sadly, the Jameson distillery was closed, and thus ended the alcohol production tour of Dub.
so the natural next stage is the drinking alcohol side, which was the easy option of Temple Bar. Yes, yes, this is probably the most touristed part of the city, however we seemed to have built in radar to the place and kept wandering into it, as if by default.
And there was always some...er...'live entertainment' as it were...from the standard giddy afternoon debauchery through to the pimping 70's outfits, complete with extra-buffante bulbous afro wigs, a smattering of kilt-clad Scots, mustache-fixated Indian blokes, dancing kickboxers and film-noir style depressives glowering over a Guinness pint. The music was equally as random as the people and trips to the toilets for myself often included encounters with pick-up lines unsuitable for this blog as I hope to keep it at a 'general audience' rating. Also had a bit of a lark as i collected overpriced cheesy souvenirs for St. Pats..which, wrongly, i'll be back here in Vienna for.
Sunday morning brought the rain to make Ireland feel more Ireland-like and the discovery that the gravitational pull to the Temple Bar was also useful for Sunday midday lights meals, tea, coffee and lovely reads about such contrasting topics as global warming and St. Patrick's Day in Chigaco...'what a load of Blarney'. Har.
Pity I missed out on the suggestions from my Irish colleague: Killiney/Darkley for the view, with the Druid's chair pub for a pint with smelly old men and for a good pint in the city centre, McDaid's....on the list for next time I suppose! Slainte!
One reason for this is the first thing I'll note regarding my passport control experiences:
Ireland: Upon noting the visa from my other rather recent visit, asks if I am a regular. I just laughed, and said its just the 3rd time for my whole life (which averages out to once per decade, give or take). He observes that, well, something must be bringing you back...yeah, you're a lot nicer than the Austrians, har har. Which was responded to with a smile and 'well, we try!' and off I be on my merry way to 40-some odd hours of this..yessss! 'Failte' indeed.
Austria: I think I did manage to get a grunt when handing my passport over, right before the ferocious stamping proof of entry into it. I wonder if their particular talent for conducting any manner of transaction without actually speaking is innate or learned...
OK, I digress and won't continue on this for fear of turning the blog title into '10 Things I Hate About the Locals..'..I am sure this exists elsewhere though!
Having the place score higher on the 'niceness' factor scale was a definite asset in making this weekend a perfect tonic for the über-stressy week chock full of meetings preceding it. The final bits were still there as I arrived at the guesthouse and Anssi (of Thai full moon party fame) greeted me collapsed on one side of the door frame, suitcase on the other. buuaaaah. I will also blame this for my other little technobimbo sort of mishaps at the weekend, of which Anssi had a small list...but lest we forget I am not the only one who fell off the sidewalk pre-pint consumption, thank you.
Saturday 'twas a new day! A fine start to a sunny day in Dublin (no, that was not a typo..) is always a good post breakfast visit to the Guinness Brewery! Nothing like a morning pint with a panoramic view over the city. On the practical side, i.e., not to sound like some sort of raging alcoholic it is good to arrive early to avoid the mammoth queues. Sadly, the Jameson distillery was closed, and thus ended the alcohol production tour of Dub.
so the natural next stage is the drinking alcohol side, which was the easy option of Temple Bar. Yes, yes, this is probably the most touristed part of the city, however we seemed to have built in radar to the place and kept wandering into it, as if by default.
And there was always some...er...'live entertainment' as it were...from the standard giddy afternoon debauchery through to the pimping 70's outfits, complete with extra-buffante bulbous afro wigs, a smattering of kilt-clad Scots, mustache-fixated Indian blokes, dancing kickboxers and film-noir style depressives glowering over a Guinness pint. The music was equally as random as the people and trips to the toilets for myself often included encounters with pick-up lines unsuitable for this blog as I hope to keep it at a 'general audience' rating. Also had a bit of a lark as i collected overpriced cheesy souvenirs for St. Pats..which, wrongly, i'll be back here in Vienna for.
Sunday morning brought the rain to make Ireland feel more Ireland-like and the discovery that the gravitational pull to the Temple Bar was also useful for Sunday midday lights meals, tea, coffee and lovely reads about such contrasting topics as global warming and St. Patrick's Day in Chigaco...'what a load of Blarney'. Har.
Pity I missed out on the suggestions from my Irish colleague: Killiney/Darkley for the view, with the Druid's chair pub for a pint with smelly old men and for a good pint in the city centre, McDaid's....on the list for next time I suppose! Slainte!
Houston, we have lift off...
After all this time, I've finally gone digital with my diaries! Not entirely sure how entertaining this will be to anyone else, but as long as I can keep myself entertained (especially during working hours ;-) ), I'll be a happy bunny. :-D. However, any feedback on the writing is welcome!
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