The Elusive "Feckin" Taxi

Now I'm not one for gratuitous or excessive swearing (unless it happens to be immensely amusing), but I saw these things driving around the city and thought that they were hilarious. I swore that, some day, I would get a picture of one, and, yesterday afternoon, I succeeded. So, without further ado, allow me to present the Feckin' Taxi:

I hope that this picture is good enough for you guys to read most of what it says. It seems like Blogspot or Blogger or whatever this blog-hosting site is doesn't really upload pictures too well, so if you'd like to see it better I think I'll post it on my Facebook page as well.

Anyway, at first I thought that these taxis and the "Drink Feckin' Responsibly" signs that I saw around were either a joke or Ireland's unique way of battling excessive drinking. No, no... Come on people, we're talking about the Irish here! Look closer at the taxi and you'll see a web site: http://www.feckinwhiskey.com/. That's right, friends and neighbors - it's a brand of whiskey! More specifically, a "whiskey for the rogue in all of us." Feckin' Irish Whiskey. Oh, Jeremy... you naive prat...

Right. Well, I thought that the feckin' taxis were amusing, and hopefully you do too! Maybe I'll write some more on the topic of the word "feckin'" later. Until next time...

Irish Language Lesson #2

Imagine, if you will, a small college campus in the United States. Perhaps this college is in the south-west, perhaps, dare I say, even in southern California. Now, imagine yourself as a student at said college, conversing with another student regarding his TNC activities the previous Thursday.

"How was the party?" You might say.

"The party?" he replies, "Oh, it was great. There was really great crack."

Freeze frame. Now, at the aforementioned college campus in the US, your reaction to the above statement would probably be one of shock and, quite possibly, disgust. Who knew that this gent, who you've no doubt known for a bit and possibly even taken classes with was a coke-head all along? Shocking, shocking... Kids these days, and all that. And who knew that pure crack-cocaine was a TNC staple? Some of us had our suspicions, but I digress...

But, to the point. In Ireland, you'll hear the word "crack" a lot. Or, rather, you'll hear a word that sounds exactly like "crack." This word is actually an Irish word: "craic." And if there's one thing the Irish know about, it's craic. The specific dictionary definition of the term is rather elusive; Wikipedia describes it as "fun, enjoyment, abandonment, or lighthearted mischief; often in the context of drinking or music" (for more, see here). Basically, craic is fun; it's the good time that the Irish have had after a night of drinking, dancing, clubbing, talking, going to a coffee house, or any other fun sort of social activity.

So, being such a large part of Irish life, craic comes up often in conversation. In fact, one common Irish greeting is "How's the craic?" Needless to say, if an Irishman ever confronts you with this greeting, don't be fooled. Unless he's Jack Nicholson's character from The Departed, he's probably not asking you about the quality of the crack-cocaine in your neighborhood. A suitable response might be, "Great, how are you?" or something similar.

Other common uses of the word craic obviously concern pubs, clubs, or other hang outs. To say that a place has "great craic" is an excellent compliment. We Americans here are still a little self-conscious about using the term, however; you know how it is.... We don't want to look like stupid Americans trying to fit in. It'll come, though, it'll come.

But, I see no reason not to use the term in my blog communications, so good night, and here's hoping that you all have a good bit of craic tonight and for the rest of the week!

A Wee Bit on the City Center

So I promised you guys a bit more on the city, and have, so far, failed to deliver. Apologies all around! Forgive me, won't you?


Anyway, I've only got a little time before I have to figure out what I'm eating for dinner (living without a dining hall and set eating hours is - I'm stealing an album title here - 100% oi!), but I thought that I'd take a minute to describe the city center for you guys. Here's a picture of city hall, with the Belfast Eye next to it.

Basically, city hall is kind of the heart of Belfast; everything seems to branch out from there. City hall and the eye take up an entire square block and are certainly very impressive, particularly at night. Hopefully, I'll get a night picture sometime to show you what that's like!

Anyway, in and around the city center are Belfast's major shopping streets. There are several variety shops, which are all very interesting, and a couple of malls, which are basically the same as malls in the US. Rather boring, those. I'm hoping to go back to one particular variety shop tomorrow, though - it's a sort of army surplus stores (plenty of old Soviet Union-era military hats and Che Guevara-style berets for everyone!). I might pick up a rucksack there; it seems like both of my backpacks are a little big to haul around the wee bit of stuff that I need for my few-and-far-between classes. Anyway...

I actually interrupted the writing of this post about 3 hours ago to walk over to the movie theater (or should I say "theatre?") to see Sweeney Todd. Ahhh, yes. Give me some good old American blood and gore. Well... I guess the original musical was written by an American and a Brit, so we'll say the credit goes half and half. Johnny Depp was brilliant, of course, but really the movie best serves as a huge example of how Stephen Sondheim must have some serious issues...

I'm a little tired now, so perhaps I'll get around to discussing some more stuff later.

City Streets and Sights

Yesterday afternoon a group of friends and I spent about six hours wandering around in central Belfast. It was brilliant, let me tell you. Now, it may sound strange, but the central thing to keep in mind is this: apparently, the Irish really know how to make (or, rather, remake) a city. For a place that didn't have any tourists for about 30 years, Belfast is remarkably tourist/foreign-student friendly. Many of the city's main sight-seeing opportunities are located near the main city center - about a 30 minute walk from my dorm building - but, to make matters even easier, every block seems to be outfitted with an information pole that includes a map of the surrounding area and shows you exactly where you are! A good thing, too... with all of the winding roads, sidestreets, and back alleys that connect the side streets, getting lost seemed like it was going to be a frequent occurrence.

Well, the first place worth noting in our ramblings about the city was a fabulous farmer's-market known as St. George's Marketplace. For those of you who go to Claremont, imagine the weekly Sunday morning farmer's market in the Village, just bigger, Irish, and even more awesome. Basically, St. George's was everything that I hoped Ireland as a whole would be; I'm not sure that I'd actually been truly happy here until I walked into that place. Of course, the food stalls and the crafts were amazing and everybody was really friendly, but nothing could top the music. Brilliant! There was a three piece Irish band (composed of a fiddler, a guitarist, and a pianist) playing in the middle of the market, and listening to them was one of the more wonderful things that I've done recently. It was actually pretty amazing; not only did they play traditional Irish songs - like "The Star of the County Down" and "The Irish Rover" - but they also covered some songs from well-known pop artists, notably "I'm Gonna Be 500 Miles" (originally by The Proclaimers, but also covered - brilliantly - by the Toy Dolls) and "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison! In short, the market is, as Austin Powers would say, definitely my bag, baby, and I wouldn't be surprised to find myself over there every week.

After leaving the market, we wandered along the River Lagan, one of the major Northern Irish rivers, which runs through central Belfast. Here's a little picture (not a very good one, sorry) of the river, as well as part of the industrial district (over on the left) and a couple riverside apartment buildings (on the right). Apparently, the apartments in there cost something like a million pounds apiece; have some fun and do the math and figure out how many dollars that is today.

More on the rest of the city sometime soon, but, in the mean time, how about a song for you?

"The Star of the County Down" (Traditional N. Irish Ballad)

Near Banbridge town, in the County Down
One morning in July
Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two white feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, I'd to shake myself
To make sure I was standing there.

(Chorus)
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped I shook my head
And I gazed with a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passerby
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he,
"That's the gem of Ireland's crown.
She's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down."

(Chorus)

I've travelled a bit, but never was hit
Since my roving career began
But fair and square I surrendered there
To the charms of young Rose McCann.
I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet
Did I meet with in shawl or gown
But in she went and I asked no rent
From the star of the County Down.

(Chorus)

At the crossroads fair I'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
And I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering lies
On the heart of the nut-brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Though with rust my plow turns brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.

(Chorus)

Irish Language Lesson #1

Alrighty friends and neighbors, we're going to do the old Sesame Street drill... Today's word is "céilidh." Say it with me now. Do you think you can? OK, here's the pronunciation: "kay-lee." How'd we get that, then? Don't ask...

Anyways, a céilidh is a fancy (that is, Irish/Scottish Gaelic) term for a party or other fun type of event; however, a céilidh nearly always involves dancing. I had the pleasure of attending just such a céilidh yesterday evening, where I danced the night away to traditional Irish music. Quite a bit of fun, really. The dances had some pretty elaborate names: this Irish fellow was teaching all of the international students old céilidh dances like "The Walls of Limerick" and "The Seige of Ennis" (which, if I may say so, definitely sounded like "The Sage of Venice" when I heard the guy say it in his thick Irish accent). As this same fellow said, the Irish "dance from the waste down." Hence the Riverdance focus on the crazy tapping and kicking movements of the legs. Most of the dances at the céilidh involved this kicking/tapping combination, usually with a two rows of two, three, or four dancers facing each other.

Ah, yes. There was much kicking, much tapping, and much spinning and changing positions. But the strangest dance was definitely this little number known as the "Waves of Tory." In this dance, two long lines of people (one of all girls, the other all guys, preferably) did the typical kicking and tapping and moving back and forth for a bit - but there's a catch. Once this is over, the two lines march around, duck under an arch formed by the lead couple, and reform the line. But wait... there's more! Each couple then joins one hand to form their own mini-arch and then moves up and down the line going over and under the other couples, which, apparently, is meant to emulate the very waves that the dance is named after. No worries if you can't picture this; I hardly could, and I was watching it and then doing it! It was certainly a good time, though.

For anyone who's interested, I can teach an Irish dance class when I get to the states... I'll definitely need the money after the exchange rate over here!

Alright, a good night to one and all! With luck, I'll have another post for you soon!

Coming Attractions...

Right. So I don't really have time now to write a blog post; if I sleep in again tomorrow it'll be the death of me! But here's a list of coming attractions:

- the North Irish assembly at Stormont

- Irish dancing at a good old-fashioned céilidh.

- the quick-talking Irishmen

- life without a dining hall

And a picture to tide you over, how about:

Belfast Blitzkrieg

It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door... You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. - Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

A dangerous business, indeed. Well, I made it to Belfast - it's been less than forty-eight hours since I arrived, but it already feels like I've been here for an eternity. That's just the way it goes, I think. The first glimpse of Belfast City from the window of the airplane was an astounding one; we arrived at about 8:30am local time, and the sun was only just rising. And rise it did. Brilliantly. High above the city, with the early-morning lights glinting down below, and nothing but green, lush fields around it, the sun rose as a fiery red ball, casting everything in a flame-tinged, eerie sort of light. Very beautiful... Unfortunately, we quickly descended beneath some clouds, and more blew in and covered the sky. It's basically been raining off and on ever since!

Well, it would probably take a while to tell about everything that I've been up to, so I'll try and make it short by just verifying what you all already know: the Irish - specifically, here in Belfast, the Northern Irish, and, hence, the British - love football. Which is to say, soccer. But let's stick to British terminology. In the pubs last night, all the television sets were airing the match between Arsenal (one of - if not the - most famous football clubs around; they're based out of north London) and Tottenham Hotspur (aka the Spurs; also based in London), and it could definitely get pretty raucous, let me tell you... Collective cheering, shouts, glass banging when goals were scored or dangerous shots blocked, collective booing at a goal by the opposing team or, especially, at goal-post hitting misses by the fan favorites. I'm not entirely sure of the reason, but everyone, and I mean everyone, was backing Tottenham. No one was rooting for Arsenal. A little confusing; I don't exactly know why every North Irishman that I met backed one London-based team so vehemently against the other... hopefully, I'll find out someday!

One way or another, though, the Irishmen and the Spurs had their way: the final score was 6-2 in favor of Tottenham. Very interesting... apparently, the Spurs' victory allows them to advance to the League Cup final. Sounds exciting, but, being but a silly American, I'm not sure that I quite grasp the importance of the event. Still fun to watch, though.

Alright, check back again soon for more... I'll try not to be sleep deprived when I write it!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Greetings and salutations, my friends! A good day to you, and many thanks for taking the time to read this blog! Well, come Monday morning I'm leaving for my semester-long study abroad program in Belfast, Northern Ireland. I'm sure that it should prove to be exciting...

Well, while I'm away, I want to be able to keep you all updated as to my experiences, adventures, travels, and anything else that comes to mind. Hence, this blog.

Now, I'm sure that some of you (if anyone is bothering to read this, that is) are probably wondering about the title: The Wild Rover. Yes, yes... I know. I am not now, nor have I ever been, particularly "wild." Alright, well, to be perfectly honest, I filched the title from a traditional Irish folk song. A great song, really; one of those rousing Irish pub songs that involves clapping or glass-banging from the clientele. I've included the lyrics below for your enjoyment, and, if you'd like to download it on your little music downloading programs, I'd recommend the version recorded by The Pogues and included as an extra track on the most recent rerelease of their album Red Roses for Me. Indeed...

Alright, well, I hope to talk to you all and give you an update soon! Thanks for your time, and I hope that I can keep you entertained throughout the semester! Goodnight!

"The Wild Rover" (Irish folk song)
I've been a wild rover for many a year,
And I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer
But now I'm returning with gold in great store,
And I promise to play the wild rover no more

And it's no, nay, never! (clap, clap, clap)
No nay never no more.
Will I play the wild rover?
No never no more...

I went to an alehouse I used to frequent,
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me, 'Nay,
sure a custom like yours I could get any day!'

And it's no, nay, never! (clap, clap, clap)
No nay never no more.
Will I play the wild rover?
No never no more...

And from my pocket I took sovereigns bright,
And the landlady's eyes, they lit up with delight
She said, 'I have whiskeys and wines of the best,
And the words that I spoke, sure were only in jest!'

And it's no, nay, never! (clap, clap, clap)
No nay never no more.
Will I play the wild rover?
No never no more...

I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done,
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they forgive me as oft-times before,
Then I promise I'll play the wild rover no more.

And it's no, nay, never! (clap, clap, clap)
No nay never no more.
Will I play the wild rover?
No never no more!

(clap, clap, clap)