What Type of Bagel Am I?

The Helix was aBUZ all week. The cast of the soon-to-be-shot-in-Dublin 'Becoming Jane' has been using our space for rehearsals and read-thrus, so instead of just seeing the usual office folks at lunch, Anne Hathaway and Maggie Smith were there too. I didn't introduce myself or anything, because then I'd be "that person." I prefer to rise above that and just see them and smile and go on my pretend-Irish way.

It's been a long time since I had a weekend in Dublin without visitors. I actually mean just 5 weeks, but the point is that while mostly everyone I know here went to Galway for the weekend, I looked forward to just relaxing in Dublin, and having some time to myself.

I don't think people value time by themselves as much as they should. Granted, it depends on the personality, but sometimes it's just nice flying solo. I personally enjoy seeing movies by myself, but it's not for everyone. So Friday night I walked down to the movie theatre to see V for Vendetta which was F for Fucking Awesome! (Even I know that's unoriginal, but come on) Upon buying my ticket, I was asked if I wanted front or back (EXCUSE ME?!?!) She meant where I wanted to sit....There were assigned seats, for a movie. This was the first time I had ever encountered such a thing, and I did NOT like it.

I walked into the theatre, where an usher greeted me and showed me to my seat (A7), which was in the very back row (guess my answer HAHA) of a completely empty theatre. A few minutes later, another couple walked in and was seated directly to my right. And soon after, a second couple was seated directly to my left. There we were, the 5 of us, all in a row, at the back of an empty theatre. Surely someone was kidding. A few more people trickled in, and when the previews started I got up and went up a few rows so I could put my feet up. I half expected the usher to come over to me and make me go back to the crowded mono-row. Stuff like that really strikes me as funny though. Perhaps if they were anticipating it selling out, I could see the reason. But no. Just a dozen people, all sitting shoulder to shoulder, looking out across the empty theatre in front of them. Talk about an evening alone.

Saturday, Kathleen and I went to Bewley's Cafe Theatre, where my friend Eric is doing his internship, to see 'The End of the Beginning.' My Irish Media professor had recently explained to us that all Irish sitcoms are imported from the US and UK for the simple reason that the Irish can't do comedy. I doubted him before, and now I doubt him even less. While the show was superbly acted and very funny, it was physical humor that was only funny because it was ridiculous, and it had to really be forced to get the humor across. While I did really enjoy myself, I can see where my professor was coming from, as it's not the type of comedy I typically go for.

After the play, we met up with Kara and her friends from London, people who I sort-of knew around Boston, but now know much better. We went to MessRs and talked about concerts, which got me well prepped for Sunday night. The highlight of the weekend came, however, when I found one of only three places in Dublin, according to Linda from work, that sells Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I bought 4 of them and ate them right there....and it was 4 times as worth it.

At 2am, Ireland sprang ahead, and entered daylight savings time one week before the rest of the world. Just for fun. We like to get a heads up I guess. So for the following week I'll be 6 hours ahead, instead of the usual 5. It gets even weirder when you find out that when we all woke up on Sunday, it was Mother's Day here. True Story.

I went into town Sunday night to meet Emma at Whelans, Dublin's version of The Cutting Room (see life: summer 05). Nice place, bar up front, intimate live venue in the back. 3 acts on the bill, the second of which was Emma's friend Jane, a really uniqe singer/songwriter that reminded me a lot of Jackie, honestly. And the evening as a whole was great, because I hadn't been to a club show in.....months! It was perfect, all that was missing was Beth.

The first act was this extremely nervous, extremely skinny guy who sang songs about his ex-girlfriend who he hated.
Choice Lyric: "I don't care what you say. Everyone is just like you. Bitch bitch bitch bitch." I'm sure she's a lovely girl, though.

The headliner was a guy named Rory Grubb and he was Phenominal! He's got the one-man-band thing down to a science. On stage was him, his guitar, an upside down bicycle, and a few little sticks and cups and stuff. He used his mini-disk recorder to record all kinds of sounds using all that stuff, and looped it, over and over again, so it sounded like he had full back up. THEN he sang, and it was AMAZING.

Rory's vocals and lyrics were strong, but he threw in some comedy as well. Near the end of the set, he took out a bagel, and asked the crowd, "So is it me, or has anyone else noticed all the bagel shops opening up in Dublin recently?" Oh, you mean all 4 of them? You must never have been to New Jersey. Anyway, he followed it with a light-hearted sing-along simply titled, 'The Bagel Song,' that won me over big time.
Choice Lyric: "There are 15 types of bagels, for every type of man. I'm just trying to figure out, what kind of bagel I am."
A great philosophical ponderation (look it up), and yet, I know the answer hands down: Pumpernickel.

With that, I'll leave you with some fun bagel facts from Wikipedia: "A related bread product is a bialy, which has no hole, is often onion or garlic-flavored, and is less crispy on the outside. Though often made with sugar, malt syrup, or honey, bagels should not be confused with doughnuts (donuts)."

No pictures right now, but check back for some mid-week photo fun.

Oh yea, and if you're the generous type, my brother is riding in the Aids Life Cycle in June, 600 miles on bike from SF to LA over 5 days, to raise money for HIV/AIDS research and services. It's an amazing task, and an even more amazing cause. So if you feel like getting on board with that, or just want more information, or just want to look at my dashingly handsome brother, head over to www.aidslifecycle.org/6611.

PEACE OUT.

Who's Patty?

After all the parents, Trash Boys, Karen's friends, and snakes left, I had a week to relax before what the people here so eagerly referred to as: Patty's Day. Dublin was peaceful, but it was the calm before the storm.













During the week, excitement continued at The Helix as usual. I saw my photos and words come to life in new flyers and posters that were printed, and I sat in at a recording studio to hear the commercial I wrote go to air.

When Friday finally rolled around, I went to the airport to pick up Thesman who was in from London spending the weekend. While waiting in the airport, I saw this kid walk out of the terminal wearing this obnoxious gigantic green hat and I thought to myself, 'Thank God that's not Kevin'.....turns out it was. Silly of me to expect anything less.













St. Patrick's Day is a 5-day festival in Dublin. There's a parade, street fairs, carnivals, performances, music...it's an all out party. And we didn't miss a minute of it.

















Friday night we crawled (read: bar hopped) along with the rest of the city. Kara, Kate, Mo, Pete, some visitors here, some friends there, but the basics were the same. I'm not sure what McKee's doing in this picture, but I seem to remember her telling a story about a former boyfriend? Maybe?













Most importantly I got to meet Megan's friend Charlotte who was in Dublin doing super top secret re-con work that I mysteriously knew about...

























The best part of the night was hearing this band at the Vat House play songs we all knew, and for obvious reasons. Singing along by yourself is fun for sure, but singing along with a few hundred others is a lot more satisfying.













The most overwhelmingly obvious difference in Dublin though was the amount of Americans. I heard more people without accents (to my ears) this weekend than I do at Port Authority. And even without hearing them they became so easy to spot. Little details have become so obvious in pointing out my own kind, like how someone wears a baseball hat, or the kind of jeans they have on, even their mannerisms. Don't mistake this for shallow material stereotyping, because it's really apparent observations to everyone, and it's not a bad thing, it's just interesting how we see ourselves when we haven't had the chance to look in a few months.













Saturday, Kevin and I headed into town to see some of the festivals. This duo on the bikes outside St Stephens Green had a nice crowd. Then we walked to the carnival, which by St. Ambrose standards was tiny, and just had a nice afternoon in general. Before dinner, we stopped in at Keating's, a bar inside a church...not made to look like a church, but what was formerly an actual church.













We had dinner at Mexico to Rome, a Spanish/Italian fusion restaurant, and in my opinion, the two are better off staying as far away from each other as possible. Then we headed out for the night, even though we were just exausted.

Sunday I visited Guinness for my no-less-than 3rd time, and hopefully my last. How many times can one person learn about barley-water-yeast-and hops?!? Jeez. Sunday night I put Kevin back on a plane to London and returned to my apartment where the internet was out. That made for some nice reflecting time. Not really. But it did give me a chance to look at this picture over and over again...
















Oh man that's a good laugh. Final observation: people here canNOT dance. At all. They're called HIPS, folks! USE THEM! "(squeek, squeek) I think he said oil can....oil can?"

Peace out!

Trash Boys + Parents

I apologize for the delay in update, as we've had some technical difficulties in picture-uploads. But rest assured, everything is back on track.

The day after I returned from Paris, the BU Spring Break began, and I got some very special visitors. Matt and Mike arrived Friday morning, and began their 10 day Irish adventure. We spent Friday - Sunday in Dublin, completing whatever sightseeing I had yet to do on my own. We saw the Book of Kells exibit and toured the Jameson distillery, where Mike finally got a diploma (in whiskey taste-testing). We walked through St Stephens Green and Merrion Square, and Karen and I got to show off how smart we have become in Irish history while showing our friends around.













At night, we kept it simple, and hung around at the pubs that have become so familiar to us, but also some cool new ones. I don't know if you've noticed, but the Trash Boys and I appear to belong to vastly different social circles, and yet somehow we make that work for us. PEACOAT PARTY!













Along the way we met some really amazing people, some of whom the guys were told to look up before they got here, from friends or family at home...others we just met along the way, like Emma.













Monday morning I saw the guys off to Galway, for the start of their week in the country, and I started my first day at work at The Helix. The Helix is a 4-venue performing arts center in Dublin, presenting theatre, concerts, opera, dance, fashion shows, children's productions, and art exibitions. I work in the advertising/marketing office, and I know it's such a cliche, but in my first week alone, I learned so much more hands on than anything in a classroom. (Not to say that my classes have not been of use, because they certainly have. It's just amazing how fast you retain everything when putting it to use.)













I've written press releases, radio ad scripts, and ad copy. I've read scripts for possible upcoming productions, done layout for flyers, brochures, websites etc. I'm really having a blast, and the perks are, of course, tickets!!

Being back in Dublin marked the triumphant return of Thursday Night 80s at Q with the Northeastern kids. If there was one thing I missed most over break, it was Kate, Pete, Mo, and 'Thriller.'

























My non-stop month didn't end there. The following morning, The Silverbergs arrived in Ireland for a quick weekend visit with their beloved son. I know it's only been 2 months since I saw my parents, but it was exciting to see them. It's hard to plan a lot of sightseeing into just 4 days, so luckily they were more interested in just hanging out with me than "seeing Ireland." This worked out very well.

They were a bit jetlagged their first morning, however, and when I showed up at the hotel on schedule at 11, I found them still sleeping. I knocked on the door and was told it was too early for housekeeping.
Dad (half asleep): Who is it?
Me (confused): It's me.
Dad: You're in the wrong room.
Me: YOU'RE in the wrong room!
Mom: Oh shoot! What time is it?!













I showed them around my school and The Helix, I took them to Guinness, showed them around Trinity and the basics of Dublin, and we took the train to the port town of Howth for the Sunday fresh market. But other than that, it was food, beer, and live music. My dad's got the taste buds for dark beers, and I introduced my mom to the wonderful world of cider. My dad talked '24' with Kara, and then got hit on by some Scottish girl.













The nice thing about this trip was that my parents would never have come to Ireland if I hadn't studied here. We have no roots here, no interests here. But the fact that I was here made for a very nice excursion to a not-so-foreign foreign country. Another stamp on the old passport I say. The best part was that, since my parents got to hang out with Matt and Mike and BU-Dublin and Irish people all together, they got to experience what my friends and nights are like at BU, only in Dublin. Troopers.

Matt and Mike returned to Dublin for the weekend, before heading back to America Monday morning. We spent the time hanging out with our new Irish chaperones, Gar and Emma. They showed us these 2 cool rockabilly bars, populated mostly by "their people" as opposed to "my people" (as Matt so keenly likes to describe our typical groups), but like I said earlier, that's why our friendship is so entertaining.













I was really proud to sort of be the bookends for their trip, and was sad to see them go. A lot can happen in a week, as this trip has proved a dozen times over for me, but they got to experience it for themselves.














Anyway, it's back to The Helix for me. And time to gear up for the Patty's Day weekend. Oh man.

Spring Break Part 2: Paris

After our 4 days in Madrid, and my 14-hour naush fest on the train, we arrived in Paris around 9am Monday. It's funny, you fall asleep in Spain, wake up in France, hop on the metro to go to the hotel, and when you come up to the surface, there's a giant hunk of rounded metal staring you in the face. And you say to yourself, "well there it is," and you put a huge mental checkmark next to EIFFEL TOWER on your list of things to see before death. Mission accomplished.


















Paris was cold. Cold of temperature, but cold because I didn't speak the language. And because of that, I felt like a huge walking cliche, and I HATE cliches. Like that American who's just going around, taking pictures of "that big tunnel thing" and ordering things from restaurants that he vocally BUTCHERS. What a jerk. I guess we all have to fill that role sometimes, but I prefer to be in the linguistic know.

Karen's friend Sara showed us around all week, as she is staying in Paris for the semester. Monday, we toured many of Paris's little neighborhoods, the Moulin Rouge, the Opera house, where all my Phantom of the Opera fantasies came true, and the coolest subway station I've ever seen.


















Monday night we went to a sangria bar (wrong country, I know), and then got our innaugural street crepes. I wished Justin and Yo were with me to enjoy the authentic crepes, sine it's "our thing that we do" back in Boston, but they weren't, so I dedicated the crepe to them long distance.




























Tuesday was a full day that began at Notre Dame and ended on top of the tower. I have really come to appreciate churches and their construction. They are just amazingly massive and intricate. And so old! After Notre Dame, we hopped a train to Versailles, which was another monstrosity of gold and lustre. I just don't understand how something this size gets built, with all the rooms and murals on every ceiling and the grounds that go on literally for ever. I feel as though it's a good rough draft for my own home. But we'll see.


























For dinner, Sara made reservations at this tiny fondue restaurant in Montmartre where you have to step over the tables to get into some of the seats. The gimmick of the place is that every person gets a bottle of wine. A baby bottle, with a rubber nipple and everything. And this was how we dined. While eating, these Italian girls were seated next to us who were apparantly in a local singing group. When they found out we spoke English, they burst out into The Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," along with the ENTIRE restaurant. Baby bottles of wine and an entire restaurant singing The Beatles. That's nuts. Honestly.














The Italian choir came with us to the Eiffel Tower, where it began to snow. On our ride up, Karen remarked that she felt like we were inside a snow globe. I guess that's an appropriate observation. The view from the top was, well, not very good, since it was a blizzard, but that made the evening more memorable. The snow was blowing sideways, and it was so beautiful, because it reflected the lights on the tower and lit up the whole atmosphere.


























We started every morning with a crepe, and it was splendid. I didn't like the metro system as much as London's or Madrid's, because the tickets were really stupid. When you purchased a 10-trip ticket, you got 10 little tickets. I feel bad for monthly pass holders. Our hotel was a little strange, though, as I think we were the only people staying in it. We did have a view of the tower, but the bed slid a few inches every time we got in it, and the shower head was pointed towards the entire bathroom. So, needless to say, it was very wet. All the time.















Wednesday, Karen and I went to the Louvre, hung out with Venus and Mona. She is certainly a manly looking thing, but it felt cool to be in her presence. I particularly enjoyed the excavated crypt beneath the museum, containing the posts of the castle and drawbridge that originally sat on the site. After the museum, we did some shopping at Lafayette, and then toured this area that's known for its gay and Jewish population. I wonder what always brings these 2 groups together. We then met my friend Liz from BU for dinner in St. Germain.

Wednesday night we hung out with Sara's friends who took us to this nightclub called Duplex. We got in for free, and the drinks were free also. I haven't figured how that all works, but I didn't ask questions. The music, was, AWFUL! In 2 rooms I couldn't find a single good song. But I kept dancing as usual. When your choices are reggae or trance, you're pretty much screwed.

























SPRING BREAK! WHOOO! By Thursday, we were exausted. Taking over the world in just 8 days is tiring. Now I know how Helen Keller felt. And we did it in 1/10 the time. Beat that! Spring Break was unforgettable, but by the end we were eager to return to Dublin, which in a not so unexpected turn of events, has become quite like home. The city is losing is novelty as a tourist attraction (which, if my tone doesn't reflect correctly, is a GOOD thing), and everything has become so familiar, like Jersey, New York, Boston......

2 months. Where did they go? First set of classes are done. Internship starts now, parents visit next week. Got some plans for summer. Already planning housing and classes for next year. Senior Year. Ohhhhh man.

Back in a few with internship news. Peace out.

Spring Break Part 1: Madrid

Spring Break began last Thursday, right after my last final exam. I know what you're thinking, "finals? in February?" Well, you'll just have to take my word for it that this is how this pretend semester works. So, Karen and I wasted no time, and went straight from our exam to the airport, where the strap on my duffle bag broke. Lucky for me, I don't believe in omens, and this was the only bad thing that happened all week. So we were off!















Upon landing in Madrid, I realized that this was the first time I would be traveling outside the English-speaking world. I wondered if I would run into any communication troubles, but it turns out I underestimated my own knowledge of the Spanish language. My 4 years of high-school training kicked in to full gear, as well as 3 years with the guys in the kitchen at A Tavola, and we were in full Spanish mode.

We checked into our hotel around dinner time, and met my friends Randi and Vanessa for tapas. I know Randi and Vanessa from Boston, and they are studying in Madrid for the semester, but live with Spanish families, rather than dorms or student apartments. Their fluency in the language far exceeded my own, and I was so impressed by their conversation skills.














After dinner, we went to a cave bar, which, if you haven't figured out yet, is a bar in a cave. Every drink in the cave bar comes out of a stalactite in the ceiling and comes with a dozen straws. They really like sharing at the Cave Bar.

Friday, we started our day at the Prado museum, and I got to see close-up what I had studied in my junior year Spanish class: Valazquez, Goya, el Greco. Great Spanish artists, who all loved Jesus. When not painting the monarch and his family (as we see here in Valazquez's most famous work), they were painting Jesus and his friends. I particularly like the paintings that are larger than my house. You can't help but be awestruck when art is that big.















We had lunch in Plaza Mayor and walked to the Palacio Real. I'm always impressed by royalty and their houses and lifestyle, partly because we have nothing like it in the US, but mostly because I plan on living the same way when I'm older. That's right.




























We had cocktails at this salsa bar, before going to this incredible jazz club Friday night. By far, the highlight of our stay in the city, Randi took us to Populares, a jazz bar tucked away down this side street near Plaza del Sol. The quartet that played was amazing, and I've never seen anyone play the harmonica like this guy did. And Randi introduced us to Clara, beer mixed with lemonade. So sweet, you could definitely get into trouble with that. We ended the night at a flamenco club where, although there was no actual show, the crowd provided one that was probably just as good.














The food in Madrid was delicious, as was the sangria, so a round of applause to Randi for planning excellent outings for us. One observation, however, don't ask people in Spain to take pictures of you in front of things. It's ridiculous really, but every time we asked someone to take a picture, it was just terrible. There was no weight, no center, no alignment. You win some and lose some I guess. Needless to say, you won't see any of those pictures here.














Saturday, we relaxed and did some shopping up on Gran Via, and then met Randi at el Teatro Real to get tickets for the Opera. What was playing: L 'elisir d amore (The Love Potion). An Italian Opera with Spanish translation on the screen, but I stayed with it. This was my first opera, and I enjoyed the experience. You might think that only in an exageration does an entire theatre actually erupt into shouts of "BRAVA!" from every balcony, but I assure you, I witnessed it first hand.














After the opera, we went to a club called Palacio, which actually used to be a palace. The music was really good, and the atmosphere was cool, but I kept being hit by the giant swinging purses of every Spanish girl in the club. Leave 'em home, girls, no one likes them.















When we left the club, which was filled mostly with people in costume for CARNIVAL, it began to snow. SNOW! In Spain. On Spring Break.















Sunday, Karen and I returned for the last time to the cafe that had become "our place" for breakfast, and the waitress knew our order by heart. >So good to me< I'm sorry to admit this, but I have become a drinker of tea. Nothing out of hand, but since I will never drink coffee, ever, I figured it was time to find a morning warmer-upper. Sorry, dad. I know what you think of "tea-people," but keep in mind how I feel about you "coffee-people."















After breakfast, we went to the Reina Sofia, where Picasso's Guernica is on display, and then walked around the city, until it was time to say goodbye to Randi and Madrid. We headed for the train station, and prepared for our over-night journey to our second destination......Americans traveling around Europe on trains....isn't that unique!?!? Aside from some cabin fever in the form of severe nausea (14 F%$King hours laying down + going sideways!), the train was pleasant enough. If anything, it was nice just to say I did it.















Reflections on Madrid: Everyone was so intensely friendly, and I loved every minute of speaking Spanish with people. I sometimes wish I had stayed with it in college, but then I realize that reading classical Spanish literature is much more difficult than practicing conversational style? On average, the population was too good looking for their own good, but I have no complaints with that aspect. I will definitely visit again, but I look forward to seeing other parts of Spain as well.

As for PARt 2, that will have to wait a few days. I'm tired.