Summer days driftin' away, to uh-oh those summer nights

Tell me more, tell me more?

If you insist :)

My London summer nights were hot, exhilarating, and exhausting.  There is so much energy and life here, you're never bored.  I had amazing Lebanese and Indian food, tried some new flavors and experienced some cultural deep-dives.  The warm, muggy night air had me glowing. 

My last night in the city followed a day of meetings with a wonderful crew of people who manage to get me into a bit of fun mischief every time I pop over.  They are an entertaining bunch who know how to work hard and play hard respectively.  As it was my last night in the city, Alena and her fiance Rob were determined to give me a taste of true London nightlife.  We had a mouth-watering feast at an amazing Thai restaurant in the city.  The pleasure of the food was only exceeded by the conversation, which got progressively interesting the more wine we drank.  Full and completely content, we left the restaurant for a tour around Piccadilly Circus, the surrounding areas of which remind me of Times Square.  On this Friday night, the area was jam packed with people out on the streets to do two things- drink and have a blast.  Every restaurant was sold out and every street filled with character.  The lights, music, and overall atmosphere commanded attention and drew you into a world of possibility.

After soaking in the sights, Rob and Alena thought the ideal way to end the evening would be with an English pint in a traditional English pub.   I couldn't argue with that!  They led me to a beautiful pub and we took a seat in a corner booth.  I had no idea which beer I'd prefer, so I asked Rob to surprise me, and he came back with a couple of options.  I chose what he called the "Pint of English Pride", as it was a traditional English beer, and I have to say, it had Guinness beat...sorry Dublin.

The closing bell had rung three times and the place was empty, but we were so enjoying our evening, we didn't bother to notice until a waiter kindly came by and announced we really had to get out.  Priceless.  "Closing time..." the song started to play in my head as the three of us wandered out into the streets, which were still packed, by the way.  Between Alena and I, our sore feet were complaining and we weren't moving as quickly as we had earlier in the evening.  We went down a variety of streets trying to find a cab, but despite Rob's masterful cab hailing skills, we had no luck.  No wonder with as many people as were still out!  We made our way to the Underground to try our luck there, but the station was just closing...no bueno.  At this point my feet felt as if they really weren't going to make it much further.  We parked ourselves on a corner and waited.  There was a McDonald's across the street and all I could think of was a Crunchies McFlurry.  Crunchies are an amazing candy here...honeycomb covered in chocolate, and the brilliant English decided to put clusters of this fabulous candy into a fluffy, creamy dairy-product.  One word...DREAMY.

My treat would have to wait, though, as Rob had caught a cab for us.  Alena and I both sighed with relief when we sat down and let our throbbing feet rest for a bit.  Before long, I was bring dropped off in front of my hotel.  I hated to say goodbye.  It had been a night to remember, and it was all because great friends had decided to dedicate their precious Friday night to showing me an amazing time.  I couldn't thank them enough for the experience.  Slightly tipsy, feet screaming, I wandered my way into the hotel, shuffled to the elevator, and once I was in my room,  collapsed in a fully-clothed heap on the bed.  It was a great night.

 

London Bridge is falling down...

Well, not really :)

 

My first trip to London, and MAN, you need to be on your game in this city.  It's a madhouse, literally...and makes Dublin look like a low-key walk in the park.
I'm still jet-lagged and waking up in the middle of the night wide-eyed and ready to rock.  Interestingly, at 4am you literally CAN rock here...not only is it somewhat light outside, people are actually out doing things!

My hotel room here is very nice, and at 4 in the morning, my rainfall shower is the perfect way to start the day.  Add Rum body wash, Peppermint shampoo and Cilantro conditioner, and it's just plain fabulous.  Those are also standard room amenities :)

I attended a press event today, my first one ever, and it was a great experience.  We rode a "rocket boat" down the river Thames, and it was just spectacular!  The river boasts fabulous views of Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, London Bridge, and the big ferris wheel...not sure what the official name is.  I was thinking it might be fun to ride that, but as my mom pointed out before I left, that's always the first landmark to get blown up in action movies...best to leave that to the other tourists I suppose. 

They have fabulous phone booths on every corner here, and I just had to
take a picture, despite the locals looking at me like I was mad. It reminded me of Dr. Who...an awesome TV show you should definitely check out if you haven't already...only surpassed in awesomeness by "Sherlock", the BBCs most fantastic creation ever.  I need to  visit Baker Street while I'm here...

I wandered along the crazy busy streets thinking I'd take advantage of the fashion hub London is know for. I went into a huge clothing store, packed full of people, and it reminded me of a clothes-only version of Walmart. There were hoards of people, clothes thrown everywhere, lines a mile long, and I think I was the only shopper in the store that was speaking English. I thought Dublin was worldly, and now I realize that was just pure naivete.

Abandoning the frenzied department store, I went to some of the more boutique-esque shops along the street. All I found were fashion trends I can only describe as trashy 80's retro, boasting schizophrenic designs and obnoxious neon colors. Clearly I wouldn't be buying clothes in London.  I know, I'm so boring! 
At the press event I had two bites of a warm chicken salad sandwich with bacon and too much mayo...it immediately turned my stomach.  So while walking around the city I decided ice cream would be the best fix for an upset tummy.  It was. 

As I was walking around, taking in the hoards of diverse people, shops, and agendas, it struck me that we put ourselves in specific boxes...at work, at home, in general.  When you take yourself out of your box and look around, the possibilities of directions to go in and areas to pursue are endless.  If you woke up one day in the middle of London with no past, no future, and no plan...how would you start your new path?  What directions would you look to go in?  What kind of new life would you build for yourself?  It's not just fun to think about, it's actually a great exercise in validating whether you're happy with your current box or not.  Sometimes we get so caught up in the rut, we run right past the other amazing possibilities right in front of us.

There and back again.....but where to stay?

Flying into Dublin, the sea of green was shimmering against the fresh sun and morning dew.  The sight brought on a sense of calm, which was only perpetuated when I left the plane and took a deep breath of crisp, cool, fresh air.  I was happy to be back, and at the same time, felt guilty for it.  What I realized about being back home was that I missed the people, and aspects of the place, but not necessarily the life.  The week back home had been a whirlwind of activity from early morning until late night, all week long.  Between work, family and friends, virtually every waking moment was consumed.  This isn't a complaint about something negative.  The trip was very typical of life at home, the way it always is.  I guess what my time in Ireland so far has taught me is that there’s a kind of day-to day that’s very different.  I suppose now that I’ve gotten a taste of being alone, without my wonderful network, and in a simpler living style, I’ve realised how much stress i was under at home.  It's all stress that I put on myself really, and being back, I fell into old habits and routines without a thought.  By the end of the week, I was feeling it, physically and mentally, and part of me was really ready to come back.

On the flight over, i started comparing the two lifestyles-

<My car back home
     My car in Dublin>



There's no comparing the two, obviously!  But back home, i HAVE to drive everywhere, and often the drives are long and tiring, consuming way too many hours of the day.  In Dublin, I can walk to the park, the grocery store, to the center of the city, and it's all about me, my feet, and the fresh air.

 <View from my room back home

View from my Dublin apartment>



My house back home is big and beautiful, with a great kitchen, 3 car garage, and some of the best views in south county.  It also takes forever to clean and there's always something that needs upkeep attention.  My apartment in Ireland is cozy, the kitchen is too small to do much with, but the view is ok.  It takes maybe an hour or two to clean, and the communal parking isn't bad.  The clothes washer holds maybe 5 pairs of pants and that's about it for a single load.  No dryer, so the clothes hang out to dry during the day.  My washer and dryer at home make even piles of laundry relatively easy to manage.  The big beautiful house at home is usually full of activity, people, and there's always something baking.  The apartment here is a quiet place to hang out and do my thing, as long as it's not baking.

                                                           

<Ice cream at home

            Ice cream in Dublin>



Ice cream at home is almost always shared with family.  Whether it's a scoop after dinner or a massive sundae on vacation, it's delicious.  The ice cream in Ireland is the tastiest, creamiest bit of heaven ...but it's all about the single serving here.

In Ireland, the people are friendly, the office is happy, the weather is interesting, and my days are mine to do whatever I want with.  I don't have to worry about anyone else.  I haven't felt legitimately stressed since landing here back in May.  Life is simpler here, and people enjoy it more.

Back home, people are rude and carry a ridiculous air of entitlement about them.  The office is stressed, the summer is hot, commuting is horrible, and people have a completely different set of priorities...not ones that are necessarily in line with mine.  I'm constantly pulled in a hundred directions and I nurse an unyielding drive to do more, better, faster.

Ireland is a calm breath of fresh air.
Home is an adrenaline IV.
Yes, i love it here, but there's something, THE most important something, that Ireland doesn't have....

 

MY FAMILY

Trinity College and the Book of Kells

Trinity College is a magical place for all but the students who study there.  Since I had the pleasure of visiting the weekend after final exams, there was an air of levity and excitement about the place.

The Book of Kells is amazing, and I'll get to that in a second.  First, a few interesting Trinity College facts and fictions.

Women were admitted into the college in 1904.  The year prior, the Dean said he would sign the agreement "over his dead body".  He was persuaded, signed the agreement, and died a few days later.  His body is buried under the corridor of the Women's Dormitory.  Women now account for over 60% of the college population.

The college currently has 16,000 students enrolled, less than 20% of whom are from other countries.

If you stand in the center courtyard, to the right is the Mess Hall and to the left is the Exam Hall.  Both buildings have identical facades, and you wouldn't be able to tell one from the other by looking at the exteriors.  The students here joke that they have Heaven on one side and Hell on the other.

The Long Room Library at Trinity is a stunning sight to behold. It is as if out of a dream from a time long past. Two-story shelves stretch their way from floor to ceiling, carrying leather bound books that house a treasure of considerable proportions.  People observe silence here, speaking only in hushed whispers when they must, out of respect for the history amassed within the walls.

The Book of Kells is kept in the library, and is an amazing piece to see.  It was written by Celtic months around the year 800 A.D.  It contains the 4 Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, but because it was written by Monks, the Latin has been deemed "horrible" and in some spots "unreadable".  They really focused most of their time on the pictures, and filled in words around them, when they must.  The book is over 1200 years old, and yet the pictures are still vibrant and detailed. 

It's sobering to see a hand-made treasure that old, crafted with purpose, and precision.  All the text and drawings were done by hand, the lines are seemingly perfect.  It took days for them to compose a page, colored with pigment from earthen plants and elements, yet seemingly from another world.

I close my eyes and imagine the hands that created these pages.  The room is dark, damp, and cold.  A few candles sit atop a large, wooden table where the Monk sits.  He has been fasting this week, but while his stomach aches for food, he is driven by a purpose of the highest importance.  His is a life of servitude, ruled by the church and fortified by the strength he gains from daily prayers and hard work.  Today he is finishing a page that has taken him three so far.  The illustrations were finished yesterday, and left to dry before he attempted text.  He takes the dull feather from the table and re-sharpens the tip with his blade.  His hand is starting to cramp, and the cold isn't helping.  Now pointed to his liking, he dips the quill into the ink and slowly, carefully, draws out another line of text. 

His mind wanders from the Gospel he is scribing, and seeks entertainment in thoughts of the next meal.  Perhaps it will not be a silent meal, and he will be able to share a word with one of his brothers about the grounds and how the crops are faring.  He wishes for fresh air and the slight promise of sunshine.  He re-focuses, only a few lines to go before the page is done.  One step further to completing a masterpiece, but more importantly, to completing a day's task.

I break from the daydream and come back to the land of cell phones and lattes.  I am all of a sudden very conscious of my surroundings.  Taking a minute to step back in time provides a whole new perspective when you re-enter your world.  That was one of the greatest gifts I took away from Trinity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only Thunder...

Rain lashed Dublin today, and in the middle of the afternoon I could hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance.  It reminded me of a poem I wrote a while back, and it felt like the perfect thing to share on an otherwise normal day-



Only Thunder...

The storm is beautiful
as the Wind carries its Rain
swirled Clouds dance across their Sky
a Sky willing to be overtaken by its compliment
Light and Dark are balanced
their contrasts and shadows are spectacular
harmony of the pairs gives the storm its grace
as it pushes through the mountains

Lightning pounds the Earth
flashing its smile
confident, powerful, happy
with energy and conviction, it blasts the sky
and waits for its lover's call

Quiet, the storm moves forward
pause
nothing
again Lightning beats the air, breaking the ground beneath
all is still
as the air thickens
with anticipation
frustration

Fury now
stubborn impatience
passion and heat
refusing to be diminished by another element
the sky explodes with its defiance
inspiring fear in the mountains themselves
as it attempts to burn the longing from the air

Silence
a slap as if with a laugh
as dignified and spectacular as it is
it remains hollow and incomplete

Lost
confused
dazed by the fact
that it could be hurt
by the absence of another
that it could be affected at all

The storm and its elements move on as they must
but now with slow unease
Clouds hug the Sky
Wind cradles the Rain
Light clings to Dark
leaving Lightning behind

They think to themselves...
only Thunder
could pause Lightning

ALL MOVED IN :D

I checked out of the airport hotel after two weeks, and wasn't sorry to say goodbye.  I wouldn't miss the eccentricities of the place.  The air control took me shoving a plastic fork into the button every which way to turn it on and off, the toilet only flushed occasionally, and the fact that I could distinguish between a 727 and 747 taking off was not a good thing.

I went to the grocery store on the way to the apartment.  Dunnes is the equivalent of a Super Walmart in the States, and it has the most reasonable prices around.  First, I went to customer service to see if my credit card would work.  They are finicky here, and really only like to take cards with "chips", something my Visa apparently didn't have.  I went up to the woman who appeared to be a store manager, and asked her if the card would work. 
"I don't think we take these", she said looking at it. "We only take chip cards."
I was a bit irritated because everyone gave the same response without even trying.  However, a week previously I had shopped at SuperQuin, one of their competitors, and it had worked there.  So, I said "That's a bummer, it worked at SuperQuinn a few days ago, but I'd much rather shop here because your prices and selection are so much better."
"Oh!" she said rather eagerly, "Well let me try it and see if we can't get it to work".  She suggested I pick out a pack of gum to try it on.  I picked out a candy bar instead.  She swiped the card.  "There!  It's gone through!"  She smiled, very proud to have wrangled a customer away from the competition.  I smirked on the inside, smiled big on the outside, and said "Oh wonderful!  Thank you so much for your trouble."  Off I went to buy supplies.

I loaded up on staples, and everything I needed to cook some decent meals.  Chicken, eggs, milk, all things I had been missing.  I also bought laundry detergent, which was a chore.  They use powders predominantly here, and they all have interesting specs.  I had no idea which one I should get, so I stopped a guy working in the aisle and asked him what the different types meant.  He explained that some were for whites, some were for sensitive skin, and some were normal, but really they all did the same thing.  "Which would you choose?" I asked.
 "None of them, I don't do laundry," was his response.  "I still live at home with my mum."  I did my best to reserve judgement.
"Well which one would she choose?"
"Oh, well, she would choose this one, most people do."
I picked up a value-sized version of the variety he mentioned, and headed towards the liquor isle.  Yeah, i wanted a bottle of wine...big time!

I arrived at the apartment and met the landlord.  He gave me the keys and showed me around.  It was a very nice two bedroom, two bath apartment, fully furnished.  He explained how the heaters worked, showed me how to turn up the water heater to get the hot water going before a shower (mandatory here) and how the washing machine / dryer combo worked.  After his run through, I spent the next 30 minutes bringing luggage and boxes back and forth from the car.  The apartment was on the 4th and top floor, which was very nice, and thankfully there was a "lift" in the building, otherwise I would have been in trouble. 

I was a sweaty mess by the time I loaded the groceries into the fridge, put a bottle of wine in the freezer, and started putting clothes into the closet.  I started my first load of wash/dry laundry, which took a while as I needed to read the instructions to figure out how the damn thing worked.  I thought I had it, but decided to throw my workout clothes in for the first load, just in case I had gotten something wrong.  I then set out to unload the suitcases and put the clothes away.  Once that was sorted, I went to the kitchen in search of a snack, and gathered up a couple piece of turkey, some cheese, and a couple biscuits (cookie crackers).  The wine had been in the freezer for about an hour, so I cracked it open and poured a nice big glass.  I sat down and started with the wine, then turned to the food.  It was quiet in the apartment, and suddenly it felt lonely.  I took my MP3 player over to the stereo and put on my favorite mix (thank you Anurag).  The rooms filled with beats from the states, masterfully mixed into a compilation that cheered me up. 

I had two boxes on the table I had shipped to myself from the States, and I had completely forgotten what was in them.  I took out a knife ad cut the tape off the boxes.  It was kind of like Christmas.  I opened the first one and found all my favorite cooking items and snacks...Pam cooking spray, Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal, Sweet and Salty Peanut Bars, Cholula, Curry seasonings (thank you Tania), Cajun seasonings, and a jar of Taco Bell mild sauce.  I was ecstatic to see my favorite ingredients from home!  I would cook a chicken and veggie stir fry to die for tonight! 

I polished off the first glass of wine and poured another.  On to the second box.  I removed the tape and bubble wrap to reveal Costco-sized bottles of my shampoo and conditioner, a few scented candles, books from home, and pictures of the family I had wrapped up to put around the apartment.  I lifted up the family picture from our last Disneyland trip and immediately started to cry.  It hit me like a sledgehammer in the stomach...I missed everyone so much, and this place felt so foreign and so lonely.  I probably shouldn't have had that glass of wine.  I tried to brush the tears away in a hurry and focus on finishing the unpacking.  I took out the DVDs I had brought from home.  Disney movies, Psych episodes (thank you Tim), and Quantum Leap (thanks Mom and Dad)... I thought to myself that I'd go down to the nearest market, buy a pint of ice cream, and have a Disney movie marathon in the evening. Nothing better to keep away tears in a new place than by watching The Little Mermaid, followed by Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella. 

I'd be ok.  This was the start of a whole new adventure, one I could really sink my teeth into.  it would be good for me to learn how to be alone, to be comfortable in my own space without the droves of amazing family and friends I usually have to keep me company.  Personal growth...take it for what it is, learn from it, and appreciate the bumps for what they teach you.

 

 

Oh for F^%k's Sake!

By the way, the proper title of this entry "For Fuck's Sake" is a well worn phrase here in Ireland, and they think absolutely nothing of saying it in mixed company, which still gets me, but I'm gettin the hang of it. :)


I'm finishing up my last dinner at the damn airport hotel, and this older guy comes up to me and asks if he can buy me another drink before I go.  I'm going to guess him to be in his very late 60's...to be nice.  I say thank you, but no, at which point he realizes I'm from the States, and he asks me whereabouts.  I say California. 
"And you're here all alone?" he asks.
"Yup," I say back.
"Hope you find a big Irish guy to keep you company."
(oh boy)
Smirking, "I don't need a big Irish guy to keep me company, I'm just fine by myself."
Then he starts talking about how this is his annual getaway trip for his birthday.
(I tried not to roll my eyes.  Rather, i smiled and asked why he liked to go to the same place for his birthday every year.)
"Well, because I'm Irish," was the reply.  He went on, "So you don't drink huh?"
"No, i don't drink, and in fact I have to get back to work.  I'm here on a split shift to support the folks back in California."
He looked quite sad at this...and I almost felt sorry for him, until he said...
"Is that your natural hair color?"
(Contain the shudder)
"It's a better version of my natural hair color."
He looked confused.  Then continued on,
"I used to be a jockey, you know.  Then i got too big to ride the horses."
(Well by big you definitely don't mean too tall)
"Oh really!" I said. "That must have been a blast"
"It really was, i wish you didn't have to go to work.  It would be great to hang out with you.  Here alone huh?"
(Here alone to the point where they wont question me when they find your body outside my door)
Smiling, "Yeah, unfortunately i do have to get going before the emails pile up.  It was great to meet you."
"It was really great to meet you too.  I'm here for tonight so if you feel like a drink after work, let me know."
(Yeah, I wont)
"Thanks for the offer, have a great rest of your trip here."

I signed the check and walked off, thinking about the various charging cords i had in my room that could come in handy if need be.  Lovely way to end my stay at the beautiful Radisson Airport Hotel!

The best conversations happen in saunas...

Moving into the apartment tomorrow!  I'm REALLY excited to get out of the airport hotel!  BUT, I'm going to miss the old-school gym.  The place and I have had some interesting times over the past couple weeks.  The receptionists there know me now and always smile when I walk in, asking if I'm off to the gym and whether I need the key code to get into the pool.  I smile back with a "yes please!" and am off to do my routine.
 
Yesterday, in the midst of an afternoon consumed by tons to do and resulting nervous energy, I polished off a bag of M&Ms.  No bueno!  To make up for it, i spent an hour and a half in the gym burning though as much as i could.  I was BEAT by the time I was done.  My legs were jello-ish and my arms were slightly shaky.  I left the gym and hobbled down the stairs to the pool area.  I suited up, and made my way to the sauna...since I was already sweating anyway, figured i might as well keep it up for a bit.
 
I had it to myself for bout five minutes before an older gentleman came in and sat down at the opposite side.  I smiled, then looked back towards the coals.  He said the heat felt nice, and I said yes, it did.  He asked me why I wasn't outside enjoying the sun.  I said I came from California.  He had a very heavy Irish accent and kind of chewed his words. "Oh, you're used to it then," was his reply.  It was quiet for a second or two, and then he said "You know where heaven is? The beach in Santa Monica.  Jaysus that's heaven.  Have you ever been there?"  I confessed I hadn't, nor would I want to go somewhere where I would feel every flaw and extra pound on my body.  Heaven, he reiterated.  I asked if he'd ever gone back, and he said no, he was too old, that it would probably give him a heart attack.  I laughed.  He told me about a tape he used to have called "California Girls".  "Jaysus," he said again.  At that point I knew this would be an interesting conversation.

We traded stories about our respective cities.  Then we talked about driving and how you couldn't speed in Ireland because of the cameras on all the roads.  I said that was ridiculous and that in California if you weren't speeding you were moving too slowly...in MY part of Cali anyway.  At this point I was getting to be really conscious of the heat.

He went on to tell me about how he and the "missus" drove to Vegas years back.  The highlight of the trip was going to a topless bar with another couple, which was a novelty because they don't have topless bars in Ireland.  He said he and his friends left the wives to get drinks from the bar, and when they came back there were two "lads" sitting in the booth with their wives.  Needless to say they didn't stay much longer then that.  I told him about a couple of my better Vegas stories...going to the best clubs with a great group of friends...getting kicked out of Cesar's...drinking on the strip at 10am to get the day going...all good fun!

At this point it was really time for me to get out, so I motioned to sit up...and he started another story.  "You know what another great trip was..."  Uh oh, i thought to myself.  If I stay in here much longer I'm going to pass out.  He went on to tell me about a trip to Florida where he and a friend went to an indoor shooting range.  I shifted in my seat, slowly edging my way off the bench.  It was a range where you could shoot any kind of gun you wanted to, and he wanted to try out a .44 Magnum.  I was getting dizzy... He argued with the attendant who told him it was too powerful a gun for someone who had never shot before.  I was starting to see spots.  He stubbornly insisted that was what he wanted to shoot, so he got the ammo, got the gun, went into the booth, squared his footing and aimed the gun.  He pulled the trigger and just about blew the ceiling off the booth.  I laughed very heartily as i stood up and made my way towards the door.  My brain had started an absolute countdown to failure if i didn't get out.

On my way to the door I stopped to shake his hand.  He took my hand and told me his name, but between the accent and ringing in my ears I have no idea what he said. I told him my name was Gina, and I was pleased to meet him.  He didn't let my hand go...

"Great to meet ya Geyna, you're a great gerrl. I hope to see ye around here again.  Will ye be back?"  He was so cheerful.  "Sure ill be back", I half lied.  I'd be back once more, than never to return.  He said "Tanks for talkin to an old man.  No one ever talks to ye in these places.  You're great!  A nice girl from America once said I was in my Autumn years."  I smiled really big as I put my free hand on the door handle.  If he wasn't going to let me go my plan was to open the door and keep it open until all the hot air was out.  I laughed and smiled, saying "Enjoy those Autumn years forever!"  I wrangled my hand free and started stepping out.  "Come back in after ye've had some water," he called after me.  "We'll see," I smiled back.

I stepped out of the sauna looking like a snowman that had come from a Florida beach...slushy and stop sign red.  I went to the water cooler and the knob was broken off.  No water...Lovely.  I rinsed off in the communal shower and slipped discreetly into the Woman's locker room...yes, i went into the right one this time!  I found water there and drank down a couple glasses, waiting for equilibrium to return.  Once it was back, I threw my street clothes on and wandered down the corridor to the double doors leading to fresh air.  I smiled and chuckled to myself at the myriad of thoughts firing through my brain.  Another great evening....and now I really wanted a cheeseburger.

 

 

St. Stephen's Green

St. Stephen's Green is a beautiful, quiet sanctuary in the middle of a bustling city.  You can come here out of the noise and traffic to slow down, breath fresh air, and enjoy a scenic stroll through lush, green landscape.  It could be compared to Central Park in New York, though it only occupies a fraction of the space.  Still, once you walk through the black, iron gate, you feel like you've stepped into a different world.

The city has to work to survive.  It's a constant effort to keep itself moving, keep people happy and organized and flowing in the right direction.  It's streets and buildings need constant attention to keep up appearances.  The park, in contrast, seems to be effortlessly beautiful and at peace, as opposed to the organized chaos of the surrounding streets.  It is a testament to the natural state of being. Granted, there are portions of the park that are more visually appealing because they're looked after, but even without interference from man, the trees and grass would grow, the flowers would bloom after sweet visits
from the rain, and the ducks would continue to
play in the ponds.

As I walked my way through, I sang softly to myself, and it was extremely relaxing.  People do that here, as a side note, they sing to themselves as they walk.  It's a great expression of your mood and sharing with your surroundings a bit about how you're feeling.  Most of the songs you hear are cheery, though some are also thoughtful, others reflective.  I've taken up the habit.

I came to the far end of the park, and saw a striking statue (pictures to the left).   The piece was a jarring contrast to it's resting place, and I could immediately feel darkness, sadness, and helplessness, all radiating out of it.  Misery and unavoidable death were the first messages I took, and despite the fact I could see it trying to convey helpful humanity and appreciation, those attempts at a positive spin were overwhelmed by the dark reality of the situation.  The title of the piece- "Famine".
Really, the artist did a fantastic job of molding his materials into an emotional symbol.  The way the figures held themselves, the weight of the world crippling their frail frames, the desperate reach to the heavens for salvation, the touch in thanks as a kind sip of nutrition is shared... I blinked away tears as the scene played out in front of me.  This was a very real situation for so many people, and I was thankful for the charmed life i live.
After reflecting for a bit, I continued the walk, trying to leave the message in its place, heard and understood.  I came up to this beautiful tree, white blossoms in full bloom, and it gave the illusion of snow lightly covering the branches. Visually stunning.  (Picture to the left)  I walked across the bridge and was distracted by the noisy ducks, fighting over breadcrumbs a little girl was throwing into the water from the bank.  I remembered feeding the ducks back home when my brothers and I were little, how much fun it was, but how their noisy aggression scared me a bit.

On the other side of the bridge newlyweds were taking wedding pictures.  The bride was in a simple but beautiful white gown, her bridesmaids in a bouquet of different, vibrant colors.  I looked at the bride and groom as they strolled around, hand in hand, led to and fro by the photographer, and

I wondered if they would be happy in their decision ten, twenty, fifty years later.  Did they have a concept of what they were committing to?  How could you really unless you'd done it before?  I realised my view was sarcastic, but wondered how many of the family and friends that watched as they went along shared my mindset.
I finished up my circuit, gulped in a couple last breaths of the fragrant air, and promised the park i would be back to visit often.  My apartment would only be a 15 minute walk away at most, and this would definitely be one of my regular hiding places.  I'd found a gem to be sure.