JandalsnAll

update from the last few days in Dublin:

On Thursday afternoon, after the morning of Icky Throats and Nasty Coughs I found grass (the walking on kind)…..Thus Thursday shall be renamed and henceforth shall be known as The Day I Found Grass(The Walking On Kind). It still had a fence around it but there was plenty of it so I dont think this was the endangered stuff.
On the way to find the National Gallery I came across Merridon Square which is across the river on the south side of Dublin city. Its a beautiful haven of nature (suitable for aforementioned cleansing of the soul). You walk in and as if by magic (leprechauns??) the sounds of the traffic on the four surrounding roads dims. There’s lush green grass, nice pretty flowers (I couldn’t name them for you but I can state for a fact that they were definitely of the NicenPretty variety), people quietly talking, walking and eating lunch. It was a welcomed respite (?) from the city and I was quite amazed it existed – I dont think I was still hallucinating… There were some most ugly sculptures scattered around the gardens – religious I think, crosses and people in agony – but they were intriguing in their hideousness so that was okay. I left paradise and visited the National Gallery – the paintings were large and impressive but mostly of pre 20th century so not terribly interesting to me.

After the gallery I attempted to find my way to Temple Bar – supposedly one of Dublins hip hotspots. I dont think I found it – maybe I wasnt hip enough – but I did find Grafton road which was flooded with people across the whole street, lotsa shops and interesting buskers. There was even a piano accordian lady reminiscent of Taurangas old accordion lady (except she wasnt old and she sat on the ground not in a wheelchair). So I dint manage to find Temple Bar on this day but did find the accordian lady, and another cool three piece band of youths playing a weird kind of Irish folk punk rock. On the way back to the hostel I had some cauliflower soup to nourish me back to health. then checked into my new bed up five flights of stairs. Yay. I met an Australian girl there who said just hours before my bed had been occupied by another Kiwi, but nevermind, the Australian was the next best thing – except she of course preferred Vegemite over Marmite. Also 2 koreans, 1 german and a couple of other unidentified humans in the room.

Next morning I awoke with vigour. Well the third time I awoke was with vigour. I packed everything up and had a quick hostel breakfast of croissant, then set off. I had a plan. I would visit the much anticipated wax museum, the Modern gallery and Cobalt Gallery and cafe where according to LP I would have heary soup by a roaring fire. After about a ten minute walk I find the wax museum is shut, the modern gallery is under renovation and the cafe complete with roaring fire and hearty soup nowhere to be found. And I so wanted to visit the wax museum.

After that disapppointment, I decided to try again to track down the elusive Temple Bar district. I think I ended up walking through it because I did see the actual pub called the Temple Bar and I passed a couple of be-studded Goth/Punk ‘cool’ kids, so yeah that must of been it. I think its more ‘happenin’ at nighttime…or maybe you need to know the secret ‘hipnhappenin’ handshake. I passed Bank of Ireland (of which I know absolutely nothing about but it sounds impressive) and Trinity College which looked very inviting with the crowd of arty academics hanging outside. I then made my way back over the Liffey, had some more soup, this time celery and blue cheese which tasted suprisingly like the cauliflower soup. And as I ponder the similarities I am struck by a thought – Dont they use stock for soups? And isnt that stock sometimes chicken? And dont these soups tasted just like chicken? And I keep drinking anyway. Maybe its nutritious life juices will nourish me back to health. That would be kind of ironic though. Firstly me being a vegetarian, secondly chicken juice being a cure for French bird flu.

Anyway, enough about the slaughter of innocent chickens to feed my ailing body. That afternoon (Friday) Carmel picked me up outside the hostel and just in time too, as a hoard of French men arrived for the Saturday match (Ireland vs France) and Angela’s grandma tells me I should look out for French men so what a near miss that was and a grand stroke of luck I should be leaving just in time.

Well, well, well turns out I did catch the dreaded French Bird Flu – or something damn near as horrible. On the first day I arrived in Dublin I thought the dizziness and the way everything around me seemed to be tilting back and forth was just a symtpom of jetlag. Till I woke the next morning with a head full of snot (and I apologize not for that lovely image). So yesterday (that was when I woke up with the snot) after a breakfast of scone (thats what they serve for breakfast at the hostel) I went to the nearest chemist and stocked up on anti-snot drugs (several kinds in the end as the first two didnt work) went back to the hostel and promptly fell asleep. I woke up, doped myself up again as the snot had returned and decided to venture outside. I did plan to go to the national gallery and the very promising sounding wax museum but I figured I’d take it easy and check out the shopping areas.
There’s an area of retail shops and malls on the north side of the river Liffey centred around a 130 metre tall concrete and steel spike which was built only in 2003 and is known as ‘The Spire’ and something else which I cant remember (Monument of Light?) Anyway, it makes for a great photo so I took a photo. ( Ive only taken one photo sofar).
From the spire stems four streets, – to the north, east, south and west kinda thing. Its a pretty cool place – very busy, lots of Glassons type shops but also a fruit and vege market and pretty much any other type of retail shop you can think of. After my dose of retail therapy, or wishful retail therapy as it was I was feeling a little peckish so I consulted LP and found this cool little cafe called ‘The Winding Stair Cafe’. Its on the second floor of a antique book shop and you make your way up a creaky spiral staircase, the walls on either side of you wallpapered with pages from old books, squeeze through a tiny door into a cafe complete with checkered tablecloths, Billie Holiday music and sandwiches named after books. I had an ‘Old Man of the Sea’ – tuna, mayo and lettuce – and much nicer than it sounds. I also had the best hot chocolate in the world – or at least I think it was, my tastebuds were on strike cos of the snot situation, but it looked really nice. And I had an apple juice of the piss variety. Thats the second time Ive ordered apple juice expecting the nice cloudy old fashioned stuff but both times I’ve received the piss variety. Which tastes alright, its just the analogy’s not so pleasant. I had a great view of the river from my spot in the cafe. This is a bit further down from the vantage point I had a day earlier. But I must say the river was looking as inviting as ever, no water this time (maybe they drain it?), just a whole lotta green sludge. Kinda reminded me of my own health situation. And the gulls down this end didnt even have zorro masks on – actually come to think of it I only saw that one the day before so maybe I was just hallucinating on account of the onset of French bird flu.
After that, I headed back to the hostel, buying my second lot of anti-snot drugs on the way as well as some water and tissues. Lots of tissues. I would be prepared for the night ahead.

PART 2
That would be last night. Horror of horrors. I had to redope myself up about 3 times, then woke at 3am and couldnt get back to sleep. But I must have dozed off because I missed the moment when my throat swelled up so much I could hardly swallow let alone talk. Thats the way it was when I woke up this morning. So first thing I did this morning was of course to go on my daily trip to the chemist and stock up on drugs – for icky throats and nasty coughs this time. I decided I better have a decent breakfast so armed with directions from my sick buddy Tania from America(shes been sick for two weeks the showoff) I found a cafe that actually serves cereal for breakfast. I chose the healthiest kind – FruitnFibre – which is basically just Sultana Bran. I miss Mr Hubbard. I stumbled back to the hostel after, somewhat feverish I think, and slept again. Then I had to leave at 10.30 and not return til 3pm while they make the bed in the room I have booked for tonight. So here I am again, writing for you with a hazier brain, not much of a voice and a whole lotta snot.
Thankfully the sun is shining today and the earth isnt tilting quite as much and Im going to stay with cousin/aunt (I can never figure out which) Carmel tomorrow who will hopefully coddle me with treats and kindness.
Right now I think the wax museum is calling. Sounds intriguing. I’ll let you know.

And so it was that the little kiwi who could, did what no kiwi in the history of kiwi evolution has ever done, and flew 25 1/2 hours (plus 6 hours stopover) with no sleep surviving with most of her sanity intact. Details as follows (with headings for your convienience):

SAFETY STATUS: I AM OKAY, I REPEAT I AM OKAY.

Please bear in mind as I regail you with my travels so far that I have barely slept for over 30 hours…..

FLIGHTS.
I left Auckland at 2.10pm after a not-too-tearful goodbye (but thanks Mum for setting me off) on a Maylasian airlineflight to Kualar Lumpur.
Details of flight as follows:
Duration: approx 10 hours
Seat: In the middle, no aisle – could it be any worse?
Neighbours: Was sat next to a nice French Geography Masters student (who coincidentally also had dreads – or was it coincidence? maybe part of new security measures to keep all the dreadheads together, where they can be easily kept under surveilence). Like I said, he was nice except he kept sneezing so Im hoping I havent caught some French bird flu or anything.
Food: Argh spicy! I had a lovely nutritious meal of white rice and gloopy jello thing – everything else had enough chilli to fry my brains.
Toilets: Gross – should have gone sooner. And that flushing noise is the scariest sound in the world.
Entertainment: Yay! Little TVs! Though the novelty did wear off after watching the episode of friends where Phoebe tries to teach Joey french 5 times and the jail scene in Bridget Jones 2 just as many times.
Loss of sanity rating: 21%

Flight 2 – KLM to Amsterdam
Time: 12 1/2 hours
Seat: In the middle, no aisle, just behind the row with all the legroom as if to taunt me and yes it could be worse (see neighbours)
Neighbours: Two men who proceeded to slowly spread themselves further across both their own seats and mine. I could have held my ground I guess but I didnt want to seem to friendly as the Indian man to the left of me (complete with gold chains and tweed jacket) had already offered me his card and invited me to visit Scotland – “no problem, no problem” apparently. So I sit there for 12 1/2hours unable to move sandwiched between two spreadeagled chairhogs and I begin to question what the hell I’m doing there, how will I last the trip without getting DVT and more importantly, how does one make ones way to the toilet when ones access to the aisle is obstructed by a snoring spreadeagled fat man. Well, apparently one holds on as long as possible then politely taps him on the shoulder and asks to get by.
Food:First meal was edible – eggplant lasagne?. Second meal was noodles – with real chilli pieces of course, and a gloopy jello thing.
Entertainment: no personal tv screens but tv upfront showing Neverland – only thing stopping me from going WWF with my dinner tray on sleeping (and snoring) spreadeagled fat man. Tip: if your seat neighbour wont stop talking to you keep your headphones on at all times. – They should put that in the inflight safety video.
Toilets: still gross and scary.
Loss of sanity rating: 97% Aaaarrrgghhhh

Last flight Amsterdam to Dublin
Only an hour 10 minutes thank God. And Dublin airport is very easy to find your way out of and doesnt have toilets that flush while you’re still on them which is always a bonus in my eyes.

THE LAND OF THE IRISH
And so it was that I found myself in the Land of the Irish. And as I stepped outside the airport I stopped for a moment to pay homage to my mother the wise one,with her girlguide instinct, for supplying me with winter woollies to keep me warm despite much rolling of eyes and other mother mocking behaviour from her silly silly daughter. Four degrees.

I proceeded to find a bus to the city and was soon told off by an elderly Irish lady for not putting my pack in the luggage holder, so I apologized, how could I not, she was just so cute with her liitle angry Irish accent. Another little cute Irish accented man showed me where to get off and I found the hostel who told me I couldnt go to my room til 3pm – apparently it takes 5 hours to make the beds. So I wandered the streets for a while,had a hideous breakfast of scrambledeggs, tomato and mushroom – all obviously microwaved to death – its like I never left the plane but everyone around me seemed to be enjoying it – crazy Irish people.

I got a map from the hostel and its got green bits on it which I stupidly assumed were parks or grass where I might sit for a bit and just hang out. But there are no parks in Dublin. There is grass but its got big fences around it. I think its endangered. I decide to walk to the Liffey – the river that runs through Dublin – thinking maybe I’ll find a little haven of nature to cleanse my soul. And isnt it lovely – a lovely shade of mildew green. And there are seats lining it so people can sit and admire just how lovely a shade of mildew green it is.

I kept wandering and ended up here writing for you with a hazy brain.
I like Dublin so far – despite its lack of naturally occuring grass. Its got a nice feeling about it. And eveyones got cute happy Irish accents. Awww.
And there are seagulls with bodies just like the grey gulls in NZ but their faces are black – like they’ve got little zorro masks on. And most of the streets are one way so I can jaywalk like a real Dubliner and no-one will know Im an imposter if I dont keep taking my map out.

And now I think I will go sleep,or at least shower. Tommorow – if I wake up in time for tomorrow, I’ll seek out the art sites, maybe search for some nice green grass to frolick in a little farther afield….