Giant's Causeway Trip

Hey, hey everybody! Well, it might have been a few days, but I haven't forgotten about you. Just been busy with class things, dinner cooking, and other such activities, that's all...

Well, this past weekend, I went on a day trip to the Giant's Causeway, an amazing area of geological formations and towering, picturesque cliffs along the coast of Ireland in County Antrim. The Causeway is the most-visited tourist attraction in Northern Ireland and considered by some to be the "Eighth Wonder of the World." (Note: due to the destruction of 6 of the previous 7 wonders of the world, results are inconclusive). Anyway, the trip was amazing! Here are just a couple of pictures:

Well, as you can see, it was pretty impressive. Basically, the "crown jewel" of the Causeway (which you can kind of see in the top picture) is the pathway of hexagonal (sometimes pentagonal) basalt pillars that leads out into the ocean. The same pillars can also be found at other places around the Causeway, but the picture above shows part of the main formation.

While geological and meteorological history are certainly interesting, one of the factors that makes the Giant's Causeway so fascinating and magical comes from the realm of myth and legend. Which, I have to admit, is much more to my taste. According to ancient Irish legends, the causeway was built by the giant Finn McCool (Irish: Fionn mac Cumhaill). Apparently, you see, there was this running feud between Finn and a Scottish giant, Benandonner, who, obviously enough, lived across the Irish Sea in Scotland. Well, every day, Finn would stand up on a mountain near the future sight of the causeway, and he and the Scottish giant would shout obscenities at one another across the ocean. One day, however, something that one (or both) of them said - an insult against one of their giant mothers, perhaps? - pissed both of them off so much, that they decided they'd build a bridge across the sea and engage in some good, old-fashioned fisticuffs.

So off they went, building the bridge from their respective homelands. Well, halfway through his work on his side of the bridge, Finn McCool looked up and saw Benandonner off in the distance. Even from that distance away, he realized that the Scottish giant was substantially bigger than he was. Which, of course, didn't bode well for the upcoming fight. So he did what any of us would do in such a situation: he ran off home to his wife and begged her to help him. Being the brains of the McCool clan, Mrs. McCool came up with an ingenious plan. She dressed Finn up as a baby and put him into a cradle.

Well, pretty soon, Benandonner had finished the Scottish-Irish landbridge and had arrived in Antrim looking for Finn. Upon coming to his adversary's house, Benandonner (politely?) asked Mrs. McCool where the deuce her husband was. Mrs. M told the Scottish giant that her husband was off in the countryside for a bit, but that he would be returning home shortly. Meanwhile, she invited Benandonner inside to wait for Finn to "return." Upon entering the house, however, Benandonner noticed the "baby" in the enormous cradle and stopped dead cold. Giants have never been known for their cognitive capabilities (see above), and the gas in Benandonner's mental tank seems to have been running on empty. Regardless, he took one look at the so-called baby and thought to himself: "Shite! If this is the size of Finn McCool's baby, then Finn himself most be one big, bad son-of-a-leprechaun!" Promptly excusing himself from Mrs. McCool's hospitality, Benandonner fled back across the Irish Sea, tearing up the causeway as he went.

And all that's left of that original giant's causeway, is what we can see in the present day at Giant's Causeway. And now you know.

Time for a Song...

Well, everyone, I don't have much to say at present. The main reason that I'm posting this is because I've discovered a new (well, "new" is relative, of course - the song itself is actually rather old) song that, surprisingly, I had never heard before until a few days ago. It fits in rather well with last week's visit to the Kilmainham Gaol, since many Irishmen and women were imprisoned there during the Great Famine for stealing food. I really liked this song a lot, even if it is sad, so I just wanted to share it with you. It was recently covered by (here they are again...) the Dropkick Murphys, so you may have heard it before: here's "The Fields of Athenry."

The Dubliners: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YtQ6a8gA7qk
Paddy Reilly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v9InnXP64To
Dropkick Murphys: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10agPj0Vzu4

The Fields of Athenry (Pete St. John)
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling
"Michael, they have taken you away.
For you stole Trevelyn's corn,
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay."

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
Now it's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling
"Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free.
Against the Famine and the Crown
I fought, they cut me down.
Now you must raise our child with dignity."

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
Now it's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

By a lonely harbor wall
She watched the last star falling
As that prison ship sailed out against the sky
Sure she'll wait and hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay.
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

Rocky Road to Dublin (Part 2: Saturday)

Alright, I believe that I left you all on last Friday night. I'm sure you've just been waiting on pins and needles to hear about Saturday. Well, your wait, my friends, is over. Saturday commences, thus:

Being the up-and-at-'em gent that I am, I got up around 7:30am to stroll around the area of the city where our hostel was located. It was a very pleasant walk, with the frosty air biting through my wool jacket, and plenty of steam and smoke drifting up out of the old brick chimneys of nearby businesses. I walked along the quay beside the River Liffey and got a rather nice picture of day breaking over the buildings on the other side of the river. Here it is:

After everyone else decided to get up, and breakfast was had by all, we set out on a "Hop On, Hop Off" bus tour of the city. It was definitely a good way to get around and still be able to see everything that you wanted to see. A bunch of us got off at Saint Stephen's Green, a lovely park not too far from the main city center, and spent a while walking around, looking at the flowers and trees, and admiring the ponds. Very nice, and quite relaxing. We had to cut our visit a little short, though, in order to hop another bus and go to the Kilmainham Gaol - which, for some reason that none of us can quite figure out, our study abroad program was paying for us to tour. While not something that I probably would have chosen to see on my own, the jail was certainly interesting; it was first built in 1796 and served as a jailhouse for Irish criminals and political prisoners up until the Irish Civil War. Some of the jail's more famous former inhabitants (or death-sentence victims) include Henry Joy McCracken; Joseph Plunkett, Patrick Pearse, and James Connolly (influential leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising); and Éamon de Valera (future Prime Minister and President of the Republic of Ireland). Certainly an interesting, though rather depressing tour.

Well, after the jail, most of the study abroad group and I parted ways. You see, there is a certain beer that's made in Ireland, rather famous, really, called "Guinness." Perhaps you've heard of it? Well, Mr. Arthur Guinness, the creator of said beer, built his St. James' Gate Brewery (aka the Guinness Storehouse) in Dublin, where it continues to pump out 3 million pints of the stuff every day (as the bus driver said, "We do our best to drink every last one"). In addition to its colossal output, the St. James' Gate Brewery has also become a major tourist attraction - which I'm sure that the free pint at the end of the tour has absolutely nothing to do with. For some of us, however, beer just isn't all that great. The one time that I tried a bit of Guinness, it tasted like burnt bread (or something...) mixed with a large helping of evil. So the prospect of touring the factory (where they have to keep the evil in specially sealed vats, no doubt) just wasn't all that appealing. So, to make a long story short, just about everyone went to the Guinness storehouse. Which left me and two others to go on to Phoenix Park.

Phoenix Park, for those unfamiliar with Dublin, is enormous. There's simply no other word to describe it. It's everything that you ever wanted in a park: there are numerous sports fields, plenty of wide open space, walking paths, trees, flowers, a zoo, the American ambassador's residence, and the Áras an Uachtaráin (the residence of the President of Ireland). Yup. I bet you always wanted a park that had the president's house in it. There's also an enormous cross that was erected for Pope John Paul II's visit to Dublin in 1979. All in all, it was an amazing place, but it was impossible to see everything without canceling the rest of the afternoon. It was a tempting offer, though...

Next on the agenda was the Garden of Remembrance. I don't have much to say about it. For now, at least. By this point in the afternoon, I was a bit tired. And most of you, I think, know what I like to do when I'm tired. For those of you who don't, no; the answer is not sleep. Freya, Danielle, and Christine know the answer... Unfortunately, since the Motley happened to be about 4000 miles away, I had to settle for coffee that was less good and more expensive. But it was coffee, nonetheless.

Once the caffeine jones had been sufficiently satiated, I proceeded to walk to the National Gallery, where I spent the rest of the afternoon. It was grand! Almost like being back in SoCal at the Huntington. Difficult to say which is better, of course. I saw a great many fabulous painting, including "The Cottage Girl" by Thomas Gainsborough, a painting that I studied in the great Professor Warner's "Literature and the Visual Arts" class. Other highlights were some paintings by Tomas Roberts (I think they were a set, since they were all of the Lucan House in Demesne), a couple of paintings by Monet, some works by Claude Lorrain, and a painting by one of my all-time favorites, the late, great Mr. John Constable. In short, put me in an art gallery or museum, and I have a self-perpetuating source of entertainment.

That was it for the site-seeing, sadly enough. After dinner, though, some friends and I went on a quest for some good Irish traditional music, which, being in Ireland, was surprisingly difficult to find. The first place we went would have been successful (we got there just as the singer was finishing up my title-song "The Wild Rover"), but it was packed to the gills and we couldn't get in! From there, the quest went downhill for a while, until we finally found a little place with live music that wasn't of the annoying dance/DJ variety. We got inside just as the band was finishing a song, and eagerly awaited their next number, which turned out to be.... "Leaving on a Jet Plane" by John Denver. Oh, no! This wasn't Irish traditional music! Oh, but it was... after that they got around to playing "Whiskey in the Jar" and some other songs, finally ending with "Country Road" and playing Van Morrison's "Brown-Eyed Girl" as their finale. Phew!

So, here's a little video clip that I took of the band playing "Whiskey in the Jar." Sorry it's only about 10 seconds... I didn't really know how much space I had left on my camera memory card, so I decided to cut it a little short.

And that was Saturday in Dublin! Pretty exciting, eh?

Rocky Road to Dublin (Part 1: Friday)

This previous weekend, all of the students from my study abroad program and I went on a trip to Dublin, the capital city of the Republic of Ireland. Maybe you've heard of it? You know... Biggest Irish city? Home of James Joyce? Yeah that Dublin. Is there any other?

Anyways, we all left Belfast on the 2:00pm train on Friday afternoon. Riding the train in Ireland is always a spectacular experience: watching the countryside go by out of the train windows really drives home Ireland's reputation for scenic beauty. Plenty of rolling green fields, quaint country houses, surreal and sublime seashores, and, of course, plenty of sheep. Beautiful stuff.

We got in to Dublin at about 4:00pm, and had a couple of hours to wander about the city before going to dinner. A couple friends and I crossed over the River Liffey on one of the many bridges (not the famous Ha' Penny bridge, but we'll get there eventually) and spent about an hour or so exploring the Temple Bar area. Pretty awesome place! A little too touristy, perhaps, but there was definitely plenty to see. Street performers were all over the place: people plucking away on guitars and fiddles, fire-eaters/swingers, pipers, accordian-players, and drummers. It was sort of like a big party out in the street. Which, I guess, is basically exactly what it was supposed to be. Anyway...

We had dinner at a chain place called Apache Pizza. Yeah, yeah, I know... the Apache Indians have nothing to do with pizza. Don't ask questions; just read the Ten Indian Commandments, enjoy your pizza, and everything will be OK...

After dinner, our study abroad program was kind enough to pay for us all to attend a play at the Gaiety Theatre, a musical by Willy Russell called Blood Brothers. A nature-vs.-nurture tale of twins seperated at birth who go on to become best friends - "blood brothers" - and then, eventually, enemies, the musical was a great way for me to experience an Irish theatrical event. And I actually thought it was pretty good. Not the best musical I'd ever seen, but not as bad as the rest of the study abroad students made it out to be; although, yes, the constant references to Marilyn Monroe and the creepy Dr.-Seuss-meets-Mephistopheles narrator certainly warrant some jokes. Personally, I wouldn't have minded if Russell had pulled a Stephen Sondheim and capped the narrator mid-play....

Well, as soon as the play was over it was off to the pubs for most people. I went for a bit, to a pub down the street from the (real) Temple Bar, but it was packed full - reminded me a bit of being in the mosh pit at that Megadeth concert I went to a few years back. Without the thrashing, of course. Anyway, I didn't stick around for too long. Which is just as well: a couple of the more adventurous (sic: foolish) folks spent over $50 on alcohol, so it couldn't have ended too well. Alright, I'm going to head off to the gym in a few minutes, but expect posts on Saturday and Sunday following shortly.

And I leave you with a song: here's two links - one by the Dublin City Workingman's Band (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6459e8evb4A) and one by the Orthodox Celts (oddly enough, this band is from Belgrade; just thought you might find that interesting; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDTlQ9xgtGk).

The Rocky Road to Dublin (Irish Traditional)
In the merry month of June from me home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam so nearly broken hearted,
Saluted Father dear, kissed me darling mother,
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,

Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,
Cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghosts and goblins;
In a brand new pair of brogues to rattle o'er the bogs
And frighten all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin,

(Chorus):
One two three four five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the way to Dublin, Whack fol la de dah!

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight next morning bright and early
Took a drop of the pure to keep me heart from sinking;
That's a Paddy's cure whenever he's on drinking

See the lassies smile, laughing all the while
At me darlin' style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'
Asked me was I hired, wages I required
Till I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin,

(Chorus)

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it be a pity
To be soon deprived a view of that fine city.
Decided to take a stroll, all among the quality;
Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality.

Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'
Enquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue
Wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin,

(Chorus)

From there I got away, me spirits never falling,
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing.
The Captain at me roared, said that no room had he;
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy.

Down among the pigs, played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling;
When off to Holyhead wished meself was dead,
Or better far instead on the rocky road to Dublin,

(Chorus)

The boys of Liverpool, when we were safely landed,
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it.
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing;
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing.

"Hurrah me soul!" says I, let the shillelagh fly.
Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,
With a loud "hurray!" joined in the fray.
Soon we cleared the way on the rocky road to Dublin,

(Chorus)

V-Day in Belfast

Yes, yes.... It's happened again. No, don't fret. It happens every year, and most of us have gotten used to it by now. That's right, friends and neighbors: it's Valentine's Day. For some, it's a day of happiness and joy, a time to contemplate and cherish the person that they love, and other mushy, ain't-that-sweet activities. For the majority, however, (and perhaps I'm just a cynic) Valentine's Day is just another cheap, tacky holiday - possibly invented for the sole purpose of selling V-day cards, flowers, chocolate, and those bloody stuffed bears. People peg Christmas as a "hollow" holiday, painting it with the dreaded brush of materialism and excess; it's a pity they couldn't have picked a more deserving (not to mention easier) target.

But don't worry: if you're reading this blog, I won't suck all the fun out of your Valentine's Day. Go out, have fun, eat chocolate! Whatever. In fact, in honor of V-Day, I've got a little song for you - a marvellous little ditty that you may have heard before. It's a song called "Courtin' in the Kitchen," and it's sort of like the Irish traditional version of "Love Stinks" from The Wedding Singer. There are a great many versions of this song, one of the more recent of which was recorded by The Dropkick Murphys (of "Shipping Up to Boston" fame). NOTE: their version is (erroneously?) entitled "Captain Kelly's Kitchen." However, for the better, more traditional, sound, I'd recommend the version recorded by The Clancy Brothers. In fact, here: have some youTube links...

The Clancy Brothers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qpUboB7AKU
The Dropkick Murphys: http://youtube.com/watch?v=agro9miL3bA&feature=related (for the song itself); http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaRfjbhRW3Y (for the Irish dancing girls; sorry, the sound is terrible)
Ronnie Drew: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4LmPFAFCu4 (of the Dubliners; another good Irish trad. version)

And, without further ado, the lyrics:

Courtin' in the Kitchen (Irish Traditional)
Come single belle and beau, unto me pay attention
Don't ever fall in love, for it's the devil's own invention
For once I fell in love with a maiden so bewitching
Miss Henrietta Bell out in Captain Kelly's kitchen

With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie

At the age of seventeen I was 'prenticed to a grocer
Not far from Stephen's Green where Miss Henri' used to go sir
Her manners were sublime and she set me heart a-twitchin'
When she invited me to a hooley in the kitchen

With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie

Oh, next Sunday bein' the day that we were to have the flare-up
I dressed meself quite gay and I frizzed and oiled me hair up
The Captain had no wife and he had gone a-fishin'
And we kicked up high life down below stairs in the kitchen

With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie

With her arm around me waist, she slyly hinted marriage
To the door in dreadful haste came Captain Kelly's carriage
Her eyes were full of hate and poison she was spittin'
When the Captain at the door, walked right into the kitchen

With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie

When the Captain came downstairs, though he saw me situation
In despite of all me prayers I was marched off to the station
For me they'd take no bail, but to get home I was itchin'
But I had to tell the tale, how I came into the kitchen

With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie

Now, I said she did invite me, but she gave a flat denial
For assault she did indict me, and I was sent for trial
She swore I robbed the house and in spite of all her schreechin'
And I got six months hard for me courtin' in the kitchen

With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie


Happy Valentine's Day, mates!

Nirvana in Navan? Not quite... (But close)

Greetings, friends and neighbors! Well, this past weekend, all of the study abroad students (including, of course, your humble narrator) had a "homestay" in the wee town of Navan, down south of the border in the full-fledged Republic of Ireland. A homestay, for those of you who don't know, is a period of time - sometimes as little as 2 1/2 days (like ours) sometimes as long as a year, or longer(?) - that a foreign student stays with a native family in their study-abroad location. Pretty self-explanatory, really. Anyway...

So, Navan and the homestay. Well, it got off to a rough start when the bus taking us down to Navan got lost and didn't pick us up for 40 minutes. Meh; it happens. Upon arrival, though, things got crazy - and awesome - pretty quickly. I was staying with a family of three, which also happened to be hosting a year-long German exchange student. So, all told, it was me, the four of them, and two other students from my program. A lot of people, that! The family was incredibly, incredibly nice. First, the father showed me his music room. Bloody wonderful! With the exception of a good electric guitar, he had all of the musical toys that I'd ever dreamed of: recording equipment, great amps, guitar pedals, a twelve-string (drool...), drum machines, and, best of all, a bloody guitar synthesizer! (Note: a guitar synthesizer can make a guitar sound like any instrument - glorious!). Now, he was away for the weekend, but, with the simple advice of "Don't break my shit, dude!" he left me to play around to my heart's content. My crowning achievement of the weekend was playing Bach's "Toccata in Fugue" with the guitar synth set to "organ." Bloody beautiful! One of the other study abroad students was in the shower at the time and claimed that it sounded like Dracula's castle. Ha, ha! Well, I do what can...

Anyway, on to the mother. Sooooo nice! Not only did she feed us (that is, a LOT), but she was also full of advice, cooking ideas, and other useful bits of knowledge. But wait, there's more: she also took us to the nearby town of Trim, where there's an absolutely gorgeous castle (which, for those of you are movie buffs, was actually used in the movie Braveheart). Fun times! But wait, there's more: she gave me an egg poacher. A bloody egg poacher! Can you believe it? I had been telling her that I was going to look for one at the store, and she just pulls an old one out of the back room and gives it to me! Bless her heart! Like I said, soooo nice...



Finally, the wee girl, Emma. Six years old. You know, that age where they have an infinite supply of energy. Oi! She was certainly a cute and nice little girl, but after playing with her for several hours... Well, let's just say it was exhausting.

So, in short, it was a good time in Navan. It only goes to show that having a good homestay can definitely increase your appreciation for a place. The inverse of this statement also applies, and there were certainly some people who didn't have such good experiences...

Well, perhaps I'll get some more detail on these things later. For now, cheers for reading, and I hope that you're all enjoying the updates!

The Song for the Carrickfergus Adventure

The glory of Carrickfergus calls for a song: so here's a rousing little number by Gaelic Storm (from their self-titled album) called "Johnny Jump Up." It'll be in honor of my pint of cider. Don't worry - the effects are greatly exaggerated.

"Johnny Jump Up"
I'll tell you a story that happened to me
One day, as I went down to Cork by the Lee:
The sun, it was bright, and the day, it was warm.
Thinks I, "A cold pint wouldn't do me no harm".

I went to the barman; I says, "Give me a stout!" -
Says the barman, "I'm sorry: the beer is sold out;
Try whiskey or vodka ten years in the wood" -
Says I, "I'll try cider - I hear that it's good".

Chorus:
O never! O never! O never again!
If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten!
For I fell to the ground, and I couldn't get up,
After drinking a pint of that Johnny Jump Up!

After lowering the third, I headed straight for the yard,
Where I bumped into Brophy, the big civic guard.
"Come here to me, boy - don't you know I'm the law?";
Well I up with my first, and I shattered his jaw!

He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up,
But it wasn't I hit him; 'twas the Johnny Jump up!
The next thing I saw, down in Cork by the Lee,
Was a cripple on crutches, and he beckoned to me.

"I'm afraid for my life - I'll be hit by a car!
Would you help me across to the Railwaymen's Bar?"
And, after three pints of that cider so sweet,
He threw down his crutches, and he danced on his feet.

Chorus

I went down the Lee Road a friend for to see.
They had him in a madhouse in Cork by the Lee.
And, when I got there - the truth I do tell -
They had the poor bugger locked up in a cell!

Says the doctor to him, "Say these words, if you can:'
Round the ragged rocks the ragged rascal ran' " -
"Tell them I'm not crazy! Tell them I'm not mad!
'Twas only six pints of that cider I had!"

Chorus

A man died in the Union by the name of McNabb.
They washed him and laid him outside on a slab,
And, after the coroner his measure did take,
His wife brought him home to a bloody fine wake.

'Twas about twelve o'clock, and the beer, it was high,
When the corpse, he sat up, and he said, with a cry,
"I can't get to Heaven! They won't let me up,
'Til I bring them a bit of the Johnny Jump Up!"

Chorus

The Carrickfergus Adventure

At about 8:45 this morning, two friends and I, having nothing better to do (no class on Thursdays! Woo hoo!), set out for the nearby town of Carrickfergus (care-ick-fur-guss). The journey was a short and fun one - once we found the railway station! If any of you are ever planning on visiting Ireland, please remember this: a lot of stuff is tucked away in strange, random places. Even big things, like railway stations. We wandered up and down the street that the station was supposedly on, until we gave up and asked a random passerby - who directed us to a random, weird building emblazoned with the monicer: "Botanic: Suburban." Now, we were looking for the Botanic Station, and here it was; nowhere along the front, however, did it say Botanic Station. Craziness! Anyway...


A thirty minute train ride later, we were there: the wee town of Carrickfergus, built on the coast of the Belfast Lough, which connects to the northern part of the Irish Sea. After asking the somewhat snarky Irish receptionist at the train station to direct us towards "the water" ("Go down the street, under the arch down there, and go straight... there's a lot of water down around that way"), we wandered down to the waterfront. Amazing! The town was really quaint and pretty, with lots of interesting-looking shops and bakeries. The waterfront was absolutely beautiful, and it certainly helped that there was another castle built right along the coast! Which, of course, we promptly decided to explore (exploration fee: 3 quid).


Absolutely great fun, though. The castle was bigger, older, and certainly more amusing than the Belfast Castle this past weekend. Definitely got a lot of excellent pictures out of it. Here's one of them:

Very nice! This is the castle keep, the biggest of the castle towers, and the one in which the king and company had their large feasts and such. Pretty cool...

Well, after our self-guided tour of the castle, we decided to grab some lunch at a local pub. It was a place called Wetherspoon, and apparently it's sort of a chain pub. It seems to be kind of a big deal. It even has it's own magazine. Very flash! Anyway, lunch was delicious. I ended up getting a crayfish sandwich, which was definitely a good choice. I did, however, end up doing some expected and unexpected drinking... For the fun of it (and, of course, for the taste), I'd ordered a shot of Jameson's whiskey. Little did I know, however, that my meal (mmm... crayfish) came with a free pint of something. Taken aback, I got a pint of Strongbow cider. It was tasty, I must say. A bit like Martenelli's sparkling cider but, of course, "hard." Meh. I'd advise certain others (back in Claremont, some of them, and scattered around elsewhere as well) not to get any ideas; I'm not going to be joining you at TNC anytime soon. If ever.

After lunch, we wandered along the waterfront and explored the marina. Unfortunately, we had to catch the 1:30pm train back to Belfast, so that was the extent of the exploring for the day. But it was glorious! So if you ever find yourself in the vicinity of Carrickfergus, fear not: it's an amazing place, and you'll have yourself a grand old time.

Castles in the Hills

Phew! Well, it's been a few days since my last post, so I figured you guys might like an update. This past Saturday, a few friends and I hopped a bus and headed for the hills. Contrary to the impression often given by the weather, Belfast is surrounded by beautiful, rolling green hills (well, except for the side that's on the coast). On sunny days, you can see them from the University district; climbing up to the library tower offers an even better few. Very nice!

Anyway, in the Northern part of the city there lies a particular hill, Cave Hill, which is pretty famous. Apparently it was the home of some of the ancient settlers of the Belfast area, and it's been pretty important ever since. Nowadays, there's a very beautiful castle built on the hill, and there are walking trails, and even a zoo nearby. It's a great place for an outing. Even if it's raining.

Which it was.

No matter. You get a little wet, and, so what? Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger (unless it makes you really sick; then you'll be weaker - poor thing!). Anyway, the castle is very scenic, especially from below. Observe:

Anyway, I suppose it's a little on the smaller side, maybe, as far as castles go. But it's still very beautiful and ornate. Definitely an excellent place to visit, and I'm hoping to go back and explore the hillside a bit more when the weather is a bit more conducive to exploring.

Alright, well, for more info on the castle, check out this link. Lots of stuff there. Or Wikipedia it. I'm out, but I'll post again soon, hopefully!

A Song for A'Singin'

Hey everyone! Well, I've made it through the first real week of the semester. Classes seem like they'll be pretty interesting, and I definitely enjoyed only paying $50 for books for the entire semester. Of course, the $300 or so that I saved is going to be piddled away on food, travel, and the pathetic exchange rate in general; still, it's a welcome change to exit the college bookstore without that dark, sick, I-just-dropped-a-couple-grand on books feeling.

Well, I guess there isn't much new to report; so I'll regale you with another song from my Irish/Celtic repertoire. Now, there are, of course, a great many Irish songs that have to do with drinking. There are also many which have to do with death. However, it seems that any song which combines these two topics will almost invariably be humorous. "Finnegan's Wake" - the traditional Irish song that inspired James Joyce's novel of the same name - is a perfect example (it'll be posted here, eventually; be patient!). Tonight, however, I give you one of my favorites: a rousing little number called "The Night Pat Murphy Died." Download it. Now! Get the version by Great Big Sea off of their album Rant and Roar. The moral of this story (if you're Irish, at least, and planning on having a wake held in your honor) is to be likable and be liked. Otherwise, well, there will be a good time had by all at your wake - except for you, of course. You're dead!

The Night Pat Murphy Died (traditional Newfoundland folk song; I know, I know... that's in Canada! But it was written by Canadians of Irish descent, so it's all good):

Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play...

Chorus:
That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy
That's how they showed their honour and their pride;
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another
And every drink in the place was full the night Pat Murphy died

As Mrs. Murphy sat in the corner pouring out her grief
Kelly and his gang came tearing down the street
They went into an empty room and a bottle of whiskey stole
They put the bottle with the corpse to keep that whiskey cold

Chorus

About two o'clock in the morning after emptying the jug
Doyle rolls up the ice box lid to see poor Paddy's mug
We stopped the clock so Mrs. Murphy couldn't tell the time
And at a quarter after two we argued it was nine

Chorus

They stopped the hearse on George Street outside Sundance Saloon
They all went in at half past eight and staggered out at noon
They went up to the graveyard, so holy and sublime
Found out when they got there, they'd left the corpse behind!

Chorus

Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk and they ain't been sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play

Chorus