Oreos
Just some little factoids for today. Being that it's the first "real" week, we've been keeping it kind of relaxed.
Sunday night we went to place called Busker's, the only bar in Dublin that shows NFL games, every Sunday night! This is their claim to fame. Busker's is a giant bar, with a DJ and a dancefloor, Ireland's first breathalizer machine (blow before you go, essentially. Breathe before you leave? I got a million), and a small room in the back corner (filled with American students from all over Ireland) with 1 flatscreen, showing the Steelers game. At home, obviously, you side with and root for one particular team. But at Busker's, it just seemed like everyone was rooting for America, who, no matter which way the game went, always won. Go America!
In 2 weeks, Busker's will host Dublin's only Superbowl party. Kickoff is at 7:30 am sharp. Be there.
Tuesday afternoon I went to the Irish National Museum. On a compound that is said to be the inspiration for the White House, the museum sits across from the National Library and the Parliament House. The architecture is impressive, with large domes, columns, and huge stone ornaments (a la hanging gardens of Babylon). The museum is filled with artifacts tracing the history of Ireland through the bronze age, vikings, medieval times. Jewelry, crosses, tools, weapons, bones, clothing. All that good stuff. What did we learn? The Vikings brought pants and combs. So, I guess, prior to their arrival, Ireland was filled with unruly Normans with uncovered bums and knotty hair. Good god. Hell on Earth.
Last night, I went looking for some nosh. That's means a snack, for you gentiles. I went to the corner store with a craving for Oreos. Instead I found these:
Perfect.
Something bothered me about my trip to the shop, however. There was a kid, maybe 17, in there at the same time I was, just kind of shifting his weight and looking awkward. He bought a pack of cigarettes right after I bought my Madonnas, and as I put my change away and got ready to go, I watched as he walked past the drink wall and stole a bottle of soda. Petty. It was so petty. I turned back to the clerk, who was busy helping the next customer...he had no clue. I didn't say anything, but as I walked home, I realized that these little turds are there everytime I'm there, hanging outside the door or running around inside. It must be an easy target that they all know about. Wankers.
Booked a few trips: London the first weekend of February, Cork (South-West Ireland) 2 weeks later. Onward!
Rock.
Sunday night we went to place called Busker's, the only bar in Dublin that shows NFL games, every Sunday night! This is their claim to fame. Busker's is a giant bar, with a DJ and a dancefloor, Ireland's first breathalizer machine (blow before you go, essentially. Breathe before you leave? I got a million), and a small room in the back corner (filled with American students from all over Ireland) with 1 flatscreen, showing the Steelers game. At home, obviously, you side with and root for one particular team. But at Busker's, it just seemed like everyone was rooting for America, who, no matter which way the game went, always won. Go America!
In 2 weeks, Busker's will host Dublin's only Superbowl party. Kickoff is at 7:30 am sharp. Be there.
Tuesday afternoon I went to the Irish National Museum. On a compound that is said to be the inspiration for the White House, the museum sits across from the National Library and the Parliament House. The architecture is impressive, with large domes, columns, and huge stone ornaments (a la hanging gardens of Babylon). The museum is filled with artifacts tracing the history of Ireland through the bronze age, vikings, medieval times. Jewelry, crosses, tools, weapons, bones, clothing. All that good stuff. What did we learn? The Vikings brought pants and combs. So, I guess, prior to their arrival, Ireland was filled with unruly Normans with uncovered bums and knotty hair. Good god. Hell on Earth.
Last night, I went looking for some nosh. That's means a snack, for you gentiles. I went to the corner store with a craving for Oreos. Instead I found these:
Perfect.
Something bothered me about my trip to the shop, however. There was a kid, maybe 17, in there at the same time I was, just kind of shifting his weight and looking awkward. He bought a pack of cigarettes right after I bought my Madonnas, and as I put my change away and got ready to go, I watched as he walked past the drink wall and stole a bottle of soda. Petty. It was so petty. I turned back to the clerk, who was busy helping the next customer...he had no clue. I didn't say anything, but as I walked home, I realized that these little turds are there everytime I'm there, hanging outside the door or running around inside. It must be an easy target that they all know about. Wankers.
Booked a few trips: London the first weekend of February, Cork (South-West Ireland) 2 weeks later. Onward!
Rock.
posted by Evan at 7:48 PM
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