US Weekly

Check out the latest celeb sighting, courtesy of the Orange County Register paparazzi.

Verklempt

Over the last couple weeks or so I've had the inestimable pleasure, due to a confluence of fortunate events, to enjoy the company of a wide variety of friends - from high school, college, friends-of-friends, and more - that rarely happens in such a short timeframe and in such disparate circumstances. At the risk of being one of those melodramatic, egocentric bloggers, I just want to say how awesome it is that you all keep Ol' Big Bear laughing.

Getting a bit dusty in here...

My life is now complete.

From an email this evening (of 32 new since this afternoon? I need to opt-out more often):

Domino Sugar is now following you on Twitter!

Exponential Growth

My MacBook is chock full of crap. My hard drive is jammed to the gills; I'm playing with mere megs of elbow room these days as I figure out which of my 3,452 songs I can delete, or finally go through all my photos and clean them up and archive them.

Or get rid of all my "files" on Scotticus.

I was talking with my Dad and of course he had an extra external hard drive lying around collecting dust, so he gave it to me. Score!

He mentioned that he recently bought a 500GB drive for $89 or thereabouts; back when he got our first computer, an Apple IIGS (which was an amazing, superior machine in its day), he eventually bought a 45MB - that's megs, not gigs - external hard drive for about $389, plus another $100 for a SCSI card for the thing - that's almost 500 clams for a mere extra 45MB. At the time, that was a lot of memory.

That's 11,111% more memory for less than 1/5th the price. Of course this was back about 1989 or so, so it was 20 years ago. Still, pretty amazing when you think about it.

Or is the real amazing thing that that was 20 years ago?!? Criminy.

Chez MRhé's First Blog Award!

I'd like to thank the blogosphere...

Susan over at Transient Travels (unique, awesome travel blog) has been kind enough to give me the Honest Scrap award.




The rules of the award are: [1] Choose a minimum of 7 blogs for brilliance in content/design. [2] Show the winners and let ‘em know. [3] List at least 10 honest things about yourself.

About me? How uninteresting. But here we go:

1. If the presidential election had been held in November 2007, I would have voted for John McCain.
2. I love cooking and I'm a really excellent chef. I'm also very humble.
   
3. I've never lived outside of New England (grew up in MA and went to college in NH; never lived abroad).
   
4. Although I love living in Boston and could easily see myself ending up here eventually long term, I want to live somewhere very different for a while before I settle permanently (probably the West Coast, given that the weather here is so uncivilized).
   
5. Traveling is one of my favorite things in the world, and I haven't done anywhere near enough of it.
6. I'm currently enjoying the upside of unemployment.
7. I love dancing and karaoke although I'm not particularly good at either.
8. I once had a guest appearance playing the bongos with "The Astronots" at a performance at the Lone Pine Tavern, Collis Student Center, Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH, Winter Term '01-'02.
   
9. I haven't been on a date since Bush was in office.
10. I generally don't like internet memes, but I do enjoy being meta, ironic, and self-referential. I also happen to be mainlining social media these days.
    
11. I spent a fair amount of time thinking about this list, and I was prepared to launch into a soul-baring tell-all discussing love, heartbreak, and all the mysteries and vicissitudes of life.
    
12. But I didn't.

I’m passing this award along to…

Nobody Listens to Techno (Because she loves these things even though she hates me.)

The Scottosphere (Brilliant content; minimalist yet effective grayscale design.)

Irish Whiskey Makes Me Frisky (Giving the future magistrate and nobleman an excuse to blog again.)

Foonyor Barzane (For the ex-pat perspective.)

We are not Martha (Amazing food/cooking blog. The two ladies can each do one...or combo...or ignore me. Their choice!)

FiveThirtyEight (I know, I know, but how cool would that be?)

Fire Joe Morgan (Trying to bring them out of retirement. That was one of my favorite blogs! The advent of baseball season brings a tear to my eye.)


Now we return you to our regularly scheduled politics, high f'nance, and travelogue transcription.

It's a Beautiful Day

And I'm not talking about the gorgeous mid-60's, sunny weather today in our Great and Noble Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I just got back from waiting in line for a little over an hour to cast my vote for Barack Obama to be the next President of the United States. I am thrilled to be living at this point in American history, to participate in what is already a historic election. No matter the result, history will remember this election in the midst of dark times for the United States.

People were excited, happy, and there was that palpable excitement in the air, that sort of ineffable feeling of interconnectedness with one's fellow man that is unfortunately all too rare. To say that my political participation up until this year was apathetic would be to sugar-coat it. I didn't vote in 2004; in 2000 I gave Nader my support mainly because I believed that strong alternative parties would do this country good (which I still believe). For a number of reasons I had my political awakening in this election, and I am happy to have found a candidate who excites and inspires me, in whom I have the utmost confidence to lead the greatest country on earth back to its proper standing, at home and abroad.

Positivity. Chicken soup for the enfranchised soul.

EuroTrip 2008: Budapest Tabblo

In June, after having spent a week in Ireland, I flew from Dublin to Budapest to meet up with a friend and attend the wedding of a couple he knew. We ended up spending three nights and the balance of three days in Budapest and Lajosmizse, where the wedding was. It was an incredible experience. You can read about my travels here. ... See my Tabblo>

Day 9: The Real Budapest

This is one of a series of entries from my travel journal chronicling my recent trip to Europe. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 8 (Part II) | Day 10

Budapest photo gallery.

Cafe Kör, Budapest, Hungary 14/06/08

Now today we are experiencing the Real Budapest! We found the metro and took it into the Pest city center. Budapest is actually comprised of Buda and Óbuda (Old Buda) on the western bank of the Danube River and Pest on the eastern bank. We've been walking around checking out some buildings - some of which are impressive architecturally, including Szent Istfán Bazilika (Saint Stephen's Basilica). The flavor of cosmopolitan Pest is truly Parisian, finally justifying Budapest's universal epithet. We found Cafe Kör, mentioned in The Lonely Planet, and sat outside to take some refreshment. After some mineral water and a local beer - Dreher, a tasty lager - we're off for more.

St. Stephen's is unbelievable. Just incredibly ornate - a lot of gilded work inside, domed roofs, alcoves off the main area set aside for the worship of individual saints. Packed with tourists from Asia, Europe, and America. Quite an amazing site - finished in the 19th century, although I had guessed it was much older. Beautiful architecture. I lit a candle and made a donation - a little good will for the chance of divine influence on my behalf never hurt. The plaza outside the basilica is quite nice (although there is a boxy, fairly hideous office building breaking up the otherwise pleasing visual). And as I write this here on the steps of Szent Istfán's the bell in the tower tolls out midday.

The beautiful fin de siècle architecture and numerous cafes in the upscale, tourist-friendly city center are entirely incongruent with the eerie oppressiveness of the ugly concrete monstrosities of Warsaw Pact-era Budapest. Budapest is a curious juxtaposition of Western and Eastern Europe. Once a popular destination for Western Europeans, Budapest became closed off to liberal civilization for years under the weight of Soviet influence, to once again become a major tourist destination after the collapse of the Communist system. Hungary had a rough time of it in the 20th century, having been on the losing side of both World Wars, coming under the heel of the Soviets (who crushed resistance with a massive military invasion during the 1956 Revolution) and has only been a democracy for the last 20 years. One can still see bullet holes pockmarking the walls of older buildings all around the city - permanent reminders of the violence.

Now we are off to catch a shuttle bus to Lajosmizse for a wedding!

File This Under "Outrageous, Ballin'"

Going to Beef's bachelor party in Newport, RI for the weekend. Donations can be made in my name to the National Cirrhosis Foundation.

Go 'Bama!

Day 8 (Part II): The Paris of the East

This is one of a series of entries from my travel journal chronicling my recent trip to Europe. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 8 (Part I) | Day 9

Budapest photo gallery.

Hotel Rila, Budapest, Hungary 13/06/2008

I met up with Jeff at the airport right after passing through customs, snagged my bag off the claim without difficulty and took a shuttle to our hotel, situated somewhere southeast of the city center in a grey concrete jungle reminiscent of the glory days of living behind the Iron Curtain. We mucked about unsuccessfully for a while trying to find the metro to take us downtown but ended up going the wrong way once we left the hotel despite the receptionist's directions. After strolling through a neighborhood of what appeared to be dimly lit gulag blockhouses for some time, we cut our losses as it got late and decided to get a good night's rest after a long day of travel and get an early start on tomorrow's activities.

They call Budapest the "Paris of the East." So far I'm underwhelmed - I've seen a Burger King, McDonald's, and a Pizza Hut in my first couple hours here amidst hideous Brezhnev-era tenement buildings. The Hotel Rila is functional (it used to be an old workers' barracks back in Hungary's gay Soviet puppet-state days) with hallways decorated in the asylum style. Institutional green, the vague stench of old medicine/bad food/death, and entirely pitch dark upon entering. The green-minded Rila has its lighting operating on motion sensors, which I applaud for its energy efficiency. However, it was a bit unnerving when we first stepped off the elevator. (Jeff coined the nickname "Rape Alley" for our floor.) Jeff's currently reading the Lonely Planet guidebook to Budapest and tossing out tidbits now and again like "Budapest can claim to be Europe's gayest city with over 20 gay bars."

I can't wait to hit the town this weekend!

Day 8 (Part I): A Relatively Excellent Meal

This is one of a series of entries from my travel journal chronicling my recent trip to Europe. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 7 | Day 8 (Part II)

Ireland Photo Gallery

Cork Airport, Cork City, Co. Cork, Rep. of Ireland 13/06/08

I'm currently waiting to board my flight from Cork to Dublin after a very easy and successful drive here. I bid farewell to Mom, who dropped me off and has another day in the Old Country before she flies out on Saturday. I made sure to give myself plenty of time to get here so I have some time to kill. Seems like the perfect opportunity to recount yesterday's events.

All week I had been yearning to try the fabled Irish breakfast, specifically black pudding (blood sausage). I awoke bright and early and headed over to La Jolie Brise to order their Full Irish Breakfast, consisting of both black and white pudding, bacon, sausage, egg, and tomato - all pan-fried. Coffee, OJ, and toast were included at €7.50 - not bad at all in this land of culinary highway robbery.

It was a great meal, although I've never been more thirsty - shockingly salty, especially the bacon. I was pleasantly surprised with the pudding as well. Black pudding is a mixture of pork, oats, herbs, spices, and of course pig's blood. (I noticed that the grocery store versions contained about 18% of it.) It's actually far less meaty than typical pork sausage and has a slightly bready texture and spicy taste, with a bit of sweetness due to the blood (the white pudding is the same sans blood of course, so lacks this level of sweetness and depth of flavor). I liked the black pudding quite a bit and preferred it to the white.

After breakfast Mom and I headed out to Rosscarbery, the main town in the general area from which my great-grandparents on my Mom's maternal side came. We took the R597 out of Rosscarbery to the tiny village of Drombeg, where there is an impressive stone circle dating from 2000-500 BCE. This was far more impressive than the first stone circle we saw. The two tallest stones (the "portal" stones) were about 5' high, and the rest of the slightly shorter stones made a circle some 10' or so in diameter. During the winter solstice the sun shines through the portal stones and hits the axial, or recumbent, stone, lying horizontally directly opposite the portal stones. In the center of the circle was a small plot - presumably a more modern addition - filled with offerings of one sort or another - flowers, seashells, coins. I tossed in a few euro cents because it seemed like the thing to do.

On the same main site about 50 yards from the circle were a couple other Bronze Age sites - the remains of a couple huts (mere stone foundations/outlines) and a very interesting communal cooking area with a well, a trough, and a hearth. My hungry Celtic forebears would build a fire and heat up rocks until they were red hot, then roll them into the trough, filled with fresh water from the well. This would heat the water in the trough so that it could be used in cooking. Experiments have shown that it was possible to boil 70 liters of water in about 18 mins. using this method, and the water would remain hot for some three hours thereafter. [Ed: My numbers might be off here but that's the gist of it.] An amazing site, perched on a hillside, with a tremendous view of the surrounding hills and the sea off in the distance.

After Drombeg we headed back to Rosscarbery and walked around a bit. There was a very nice town center and a church up the hill hidden a bit from the main road. Very scenic. We then tried to find Barleyhill, back down the N71 toward Skibbereen. This proved a mite difficult as small town districts like this are on the maps but not necessarily marked with any signage. Also, although technically called a "town" district it might in actuality be nothing more than a handful of houses and farmland scattered over several square miles. After a couple back-and-forth attempts we took a turn onto what looked to be the correct turnoff into rolling farm country - serious hicksville (which for Ireland is saying something). I was fairly confident we were in the right area - there was not a house standing anymore, but we knew that my Nana's mother had come from the Barleyhill area. A friendly local farmer confirmed that we were indeed in Barleyhill, although we were in West Barleyhill rather than East Barleyhill and we possibly wanted East Barleyhill; or perhaps it was vice-versa. Either way we figured we had succeeded. We snapped a few shots of horses and cows and set off to meet the rest of my relatives in Castletownshend for lunch at the famous Mary Ann's.

This is a restaurant with great distinction in Ireland, from what I understand. It began in the 1840's, has gone through several changes in ownership, has won many awards and is in countless guidebooks and recommendations as a top seafood restaurant. This was reason enough to check it out but we also had a tenuous family connection with the owner, Fergus O'Mahony. Fergus was related to one of my Nana's first cousins - therefore a cousin of some complicated degree of removal to me.

We had a fantastic lunch, one of the best I've ever had - long, leisurely, with fabulous food and company. I started off with the seafood chowder - not a complex broth but brimming with big pieces of fish and fresh vegetables. A simplified departure from my experience at the Fishy Fishy Cafe, but definitely a welcome one. I was able to sample some starters from around the table as well - delightful mussels in basil & cream; fried goat cheese with a sweet chili relish; smoked salmon as part of a cold seafood salad. All were delicious. For my main I chose the filet of plaice (a white fish similar to cod) stuffed with leeks and crabmeat in a creamy white wine sauce. Fabulous! I sampled the scallop special as well - seared scallops with an herb mushroom & crab risotto. Quite tasty, all. With our food the table got a big plate of yellow chips (fries), mixed veggies and a gigantic dish of mashed potatoes. We were served by a friendly if slightly hard-to-understand Polish young man. Nobody could resist ordering dessert given the ostentatious dishes we had seen going by to other tables as we ate. I chose the apple and rhubarb crumble which was simply delicious, served with creamy vanilla ice cream and surrounded in a sort of raspberry-vanilla sauce.

After dinner we introduced ourselves to Fergus and asked him for help with directions to the fourth and final destination on the Sullivan Family Tree Tour at Bawnishall Cross Roads. Fergus - a busy man and rather a big deal in Ireland's burgeoning gourmet dining industry - dropped everything he was doing and launched into a nonstop stream-of-consciousness speech:

"Oh yes we were in the States a few years ago - Trish, my wife, and I - but the last time was before that awful man was elected President. Ooooooh, how I hate those Republicans. Corrupt, all of 'em! We here love the Clintons. Love them." He indicated a photograph of Bill Clinton from a benefit in Dublin some years prior. "A most charming man. I don't think Obama's the man for the job. They'll shoot him before he gets to the White House. But yes now where are ye from? Boston - what part? Milton...is that on the North Shore? South Shore, right. Now [my relatives] lived in Chelsea. I remember Daniel had the big dog. You shoulda seen the food that man would feed it. Three dogs couldn't have eaten it! Thing was enormous. I used to take it out for a walk and it'd be panting for hours after we got back. That dog died of a heart attack. Dan killed him with kindness, he did. Now Jake's brothers were rebels. Our family was always Fianna Fail, always supported the cause. All three of them left Ireland and headed for America. Never came back. The Free State Army was after them. Never came back home. Aye, driving here can be tough. Stay to the left! A few years ago I was home for James' funeral - that would've been ninety-seven. Was playing golf in Florida and found meself a few times with a car comin' right at me. Forgot meself to drive on the right! At night it's especially tough. Lovely country, though, America. They just had a tornado in Iowa yesterday. Ran through a Scout camp it did. Killed nine children. Tragic, absolutely tragic. Here, follow me and I'll show you where me grandmother was born, it's just around the corner. That little house right there with the bay windows. Now me brother's house. My other brother lives next door there. How's the economy in Massachusetts? Real estate is just crazy over there. My brother bought a huge house in Florida for $200,000! Unbelievable. Around here houses start at €400,000! I'm on a diet now - lost 2 1/2 stone over the last few weeks. Smoked salmon and beef stroganoff is all I eat. You should've seen me five weeks ago! I looked like the fattened calf. Did'ye like our fresh homemade brown bread? Let me give you a loaf to take with you."

Fergus was incredible. Friendly, charming, hilarious, generous, and very helpful. After giving us a big loaf of his brown bread he wished us good luck and said, "Perhaps I'll see you in America!" Once Bush leaves office then Fergus will bring himself to come back to the US. In a poll I read in the Irish Times it said that only 7% of Irish would vote for McCain - Hillary had a few more percentage points of support over Obama. They love the Clintons over here.

We checked out the impressive church in Castletownshend (which is a small town with a nice harbor, the church, and only one other bar/restaurant aside from Mary Ann's from what we could tell) and then went off to find the Bawnishall Cross Roads.

Again, Bawnishall is a town district that is unmarked by signage, but Fergus had told us that once we reached the crossroads that had the sign for the Toe Head road, then that would be the right spot. We hit the crossroads as Fergus had described in our two-car caravan and talked to some locals to confirm that we were indeed in the correct area. They were, as is evidently the case in West Cork, wonderfully friendly people, willing to drop everything to help a stranger out. Now Bawnishall from what I could tell consisted of a couple farms and three or four houses in close proximity ("Oh! Boh-NEEE-shall you mean!") so everyone had at least heard of the Sheehans, the descendants of whom still lived somewhere in the area although nobody was sure where. This was the one place where we had relatively good intelligence that the original house in which my Mom's grandfather grew up was still standing. After much deliberation, talking amongst themselves, and conferring with all the local passersby, it was determined that the old Sheehan house was literally right in front of us at the crossroads. This was a very good thing - unfortunately the house had fallen into ruin for some time and was purchased by someone who knocked it down and was building a big, modern house on the old site. Fortunately the original outhouse stood on the side - a curious juxtaposition with the huge modern house in the midst of construction. Also, part of the original wall remained in the back and was seamlessly integrated with the new wall - an appropriate tribute to the old while making room for the new. Although we couldn't be 100% certain that this was in fact the correct house, everyone seemed pretty confident that this was "where the old Sheehan house was." An amazing feeling to be connected to a few stones, a small plot of land some thousands of miles across the Atlantic in a foreign land.

"You're standing on the same land where your great-grandfather once stood, dearie," said one of the local women who helped us (actually she was visiting from Cork City but she had friends in the area).

Indeed, an amazing feeling.

We headed down the road back to Baltimore and headed to Casey's for a final drink with everyone together. My aunt, uncle, and cousin were staying in Baltimore until Saturday, driving to Dublin, and staying through until Monday. Mom was heading up to Cashel to check out the Rock and the surrounding area and then staying over in Cork before catching her flight home on Saturday. And I, well, here I am at Dublin Airport now around 2PM, awaiting my 4:00 flight to Budapest, Hungary. (I finished my Cork-Dublin flight while writing this entry for those actually paying attention.)

---

A few notes on Guinness:

To start, a poured pint here is different from all but the most legitimate Irish pubs in the States (the ones in which the bartender speaks with a brogue). The two-part pour is a process that should take no less than four or five minutes, and often seems to take longer. The first pour fills the pint glass about 3/4 of the way, and then the bartender lets it rest for a few minutes to let the head settle. Then he goes off to tend to other customers, tidy up behind the bar, or even come out from behind the bar to gab with the regulars for a bit. After this the pint is topped off with a perfect finishing pour - the head is a wonderful nitrogenated foam forming a perfect meniscus on the rim of the glass. Even then it's best for the patron to let the pint sit for a couple minutes to let the foam settle into the head properly. Whether all this actually makes it taste better, or even different, isn't something I can in good conscience comment on (only because I don't think it matters a whit after my very informal experimentation) but it's just the Way It's Done.

Because of all the time involved, the corollary to being prepared for this process is that when you order your next pint, be sure to order it well before you've finished your current one. Ideally you should have a fresh pint poured and waiting for you while you finish your current one. This means when you finish, you will have a properly poured pint that has already settled enough to be enjoyed. I found that a good rule of thumb is to order the next round when the level of stout has reached the curving-in point in the standard stout pint glass (this of course assumes a leisurely rate of consumption. Individual mileage may vary, especially on St. Patty's Day). I have arrived at this conclusion only after some rigorous, scientific testing this week.

Oh, and you know how everyone says that Guinness tastes better in Ireland? I disagree. I think a draught in Ireland tastes the exact same as that in the States (and presumably Honk Kong, Vladivostok, and Ulan Bator, for that matter). Not surprising considering that Guinness is a huge international brand that is quite effectively mass-marketed by its owning company (which isn't even Irish). However, the Guinness definitely feels better over here. It's a far more enjoyable, almost transcendent experience to have a drop of the black stuff on the Old Sod than anywhere else.

A small distinction, perhaps, but an important one.

Europe Trip 2008: Ireland Tabblo

I spent a week in Ireland with family from June 6-13, 2008. We stayed in the small seaside town of Baltimore, located in County Cork on the southwestern peninsula of the Emerald Isle. Here is a collection of pics (mostly mine but some taken by my Mom) of my travels around Cork, including the Beara Peninsula, Sherkin Island, Kinsale, Bantry, Glengariff, Skibbereen, and other places.

You can read my travel journal on my blog here.

I hope you enjoy the pics!

... See my Tabblo>

Travel Journal Status: On Hiatus

Several people have been asking me about the status of my travel journal. I'm flattered by this - people actually read this stuff? - so I feel a certain indebtedness to continue to my anticipatory audience. Various things have prevented me from doing so for the past couple weeks. This will change, although probably not until next week because I'll be away for a long weekend.

I've been busy but also got a bit overloaded with the transcription. I think it was too close to the trip. I need a bit of time for reflection and just to get in the right mood to continue. I have a ton of pics uploaded to my iBook, but I need to organize them, put them in online galleries, caption them, etc. - that takes a not inconsiderable amount of time and effort. I want to get the pics from the Ireland portion of the trip up to go along with that part of the journal so people have some visuals to go along with the (admittedly vibrant) prose.

I'll get to it eventually. Thanks for reading!

Day 3: Land of the Midnight Sun

This is one of a series of entries from my travel journal during my recent trip to Europe. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 2 | Day 4

Baltimore, West Cork, The Republic of Ireland 08/06/08

I was awakened around noontime this morning by a persistent banging. It took me a few minutes to wake up from my deep slumber, but I finally jerked awake. At first I thought it was my Mom having returned from a morning of photography and forgotten her key. I ran downstairs and saw my uncle's face through the front door. They had arrived! I welcomed my aunt, uncle, and cousin to Baltimore and it was a bit of a déjà vu of cranky, tired, complaining travelers (as my Mom and I had been exactly the day previous). They regaled me and Mom (she returned soon after their arrival) with tales of their hairy travels from Shannon. It's a rite of passage for travelers flying into that airport I suppose. We had a chuckle at the similarities in our respective travails.

Our landlord, Bob Clarke, came by to pick up the security deposit and give us some info about the heat, showers, and some recommendations on local eateries, grocery stores, and sights. I then went out with Mom for a stroll around Baltimore. It's a small fishing town that's a popular destination for both the Irish and foreign tourists. There's a quaint town center overlooking the harbor. Sailing, water sports, cruises to islands in Roaringwater Bay, and other seafaring activities are what draw so many here. The scenery with the colorful little buildings on the water, surrounded by hills, with islands out in the distant bay, is beautiful (the enormous rusting skeleton of a dockyard building directly across the street from us notwithstanding).

While my relatives recovered, Mom and I decided to do some walking and photography around town. First we strolled down a path near the cottage to the Lifeboat Station, which is supported and run entirely by donations and volunteers. It's a small white building sitting on the beach overlooking the back inlet of Baltimore Harbor. We walked all along the beach, snapping some great pics of sailboats moored offshore, rusting derelict hulks run aground at low tide, and wonderful views of pretty little houses perched up on the surrounding hills, with the omnipresent fog rolling over the hilltops. We then walked through the town center and out to the Baltimore Beacon, about a 30 min. walk up into the hills just past the harbor entrance, looking out onto the Atlantic.

The Beacon itself is a squat stone tower, probably some 30 ft. high, that's simply been whitewashed (the last paint job was some time ago judging from the peeling). It sits high on this rocky promontory that is just absolutely majestic. The fog had rolled in thick and covered the top of the surrounding hills; sailboats and jet skis could only just be made out as they shot the gap in the straits below; across the way one could just make out a lighthouse perched on an even higher peak on Sherkin Island across the narrows. On either side of the Beacon were sheer cliff faces falling into sheltered coves covered in the slate or shale that comprises the shoreline of the area. It was windy, slightly chilly, but with the sun peeking through every so often. The lush, green hillsides; the path up bordered by stone walls; the dense fog rolling in and out was so mysterious - it felt otherworldly, fairy tale-like (or at least as if I were on a movie set). Several times Mom mentioned how easy it would be to "accidentally" push someone off the cliff. I made sure to not turn my back to her when I was near the edge, in case I had made one driving crack too many.

As we strolled back to town I was struck by a sudden headache and hunger pangs. Despite its being in and out all afternoon, the sun had done a Rudolph job on my face (I often get headaches from sun overexposure). This was undoubtedly compounded by lack of food and Guinness (up until now I had a mere tuna fish sandwich and some cheese, crackers, soda bread and a banana in a day and a half on the Emerald Isle). Time for some serious noshing. I also had yet to have my first pint of the Black Stuff - I had purchased a six-pack of bottles at the store in Skibbereen to keep at the house but they were the extra stout (good but not the draught). They were also tiny 250ml bottles, which somehow I failed to notice when I bought them. They were like those bottles they give you on airplanes. So I was fiending. We made it back and met up with the rest of the folks - to La Jolie Brise in the town center for dinner!

Right above the harbor, the town center is dominated by an outdoor patio serving several nearby establishments. La Jolie Brise was one that caught our eye. I had the most amazing mussels - a truly gigantic bowl of the mollusks swimming in a broth of white wine, onions, garlic, and what I would conservatively estimate to be several pounds of butter. A bowl of tasty chips (french fries) accompanied it. Possibly the best mussels I've ever eaten. Tender, fresh, delicious, and rich in that heavenly broth (so heavenly that I found myself dipping everything in it that would take to it - chips, pizza crusts, etc.). We ordered a couple pizzas as well - decent but nothing earth-shattering. A sauvignon blanc went very nicely with the mussels. My cousin and I picked up a couple ice cream bars from Cotter's next door for dessert (he opted for Twix; I Snickers) while my uncle picked up the bare essentials: bars of soap and a bottle of Côtes du Rhône. We headed back to the house - my Mom and aunt were bushed, as was I. My uncle and cousin went walking around as I drifted in and out of consciousness on the living room couch. As it was getting close to sunset I decided to rally and head out. I met my uncle and cousin on the way back into town; Liam went back while Staley and I headed to Bushe's Bar to grab a pint and watch the sunset. It was a brilliant way to end the day. That first pint of Guinness was pure magic, poured into a perfect head after the lengthy but necessary two-part pouring process. We grabbed one of the wooden beer barrel tables and chatted and sipped our pints while we watched the sundown.

An interesting thing about Ireland, and one that escaped me during my first visit (or perhaps I plumb forgot) is that it stays light here very late. One could still see spots of orange in the cloudy sky well after 10PM, and it was light for some time thereafter. Even as I write this at around 12:30 in the morning, the sky possesses a dim glow. We are close to the same latitude here as Alaska. Did you know that? I certainly did not.

The plan tomorrow is to take a ferry out to one of several islands out in Baltimore Harbor. Clear Island is rumored to be more scenic and the largest by far of all the islands (it is home to an Irish school for children & adults), whereas Sherkin Island has ruins of a fort and friary and "a bit of a pub scene" according to Bob Clarke. I think I know which one I'll prefer.

Social Calendar: Week of 6/23

Tuesday, 6/24: Pickin' MF Tuesday! Attending guests include A-side, Pickin' Baines Johnston, and Ben "I haven't blogged since Bush was in office" Oculus. RSVP to HTFO@sweetrigs.net.

Thursday, 6/26: The opening night of summer 2008's Blues Barge at the Boston Harbor Hotel featuring the James Montgomery BluesBand! Attending guests include A-side, Hendrick's, and a helluva summer evening if my weather widget is at all trustworthy.

Saturday, 6/28: One of my roommates is in the musical "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas," playing at UMass Boston's McCormack Theater. For more info, visit www.encoreboston.org.

Sunday, 6/29: The New Charles River Run! 7.5 mi. Anyone not fit to run can line up behind me - I'll need the head start.

Sponsored by Hanging Out, Inc. (charter member of the Association for a Schtonky Society).

Comments, questions, and concerns can be directed to Dr. Thirsty F. Goodbeers, President, H.O.I.*

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*Gotta give a nod to Scottoway Jokesalot for this last bit.

Day 2: Slow - Loose Chippings

This is one of a series of entries from my travel journal during my recent trip to Europe. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 1 | Day 3

Shannon Airport - The Republic of Ireland 07/06/08

The flight passed fairly quickly. Some mild turbulence on the crossing. As we descended onto the Emerald Isle, I found this particular moniker to be well-earned. It's a cliché but I can't help but repeat it - verdant, gently rolling hills; fields as far as vision allows divided into innumerable plots of varying size by hedgerows. At the early hour, with dawn just having broken, the sun glinting off the wing as we banked steeply into our final approach, the entirety of the ground was covered in a thick white fog, such that where it lay thickest it gave the appearance of snow. As we neared the ground, it seemed as if we were descending into a cloud layer. Thankfully our pilot had the skill necessary to land us in the near ground-level fog.

Took some time for us to collect our bags from the baggage claim. It struck me, as I saw the same hideous floral print suitcase pass by me for the umpteenth time that there are a couple advantages to ugly luggage - very easy to recognize and no chance of anyone else taking it by mistake.

We headed over to Hertz and grabbed our rental, a Ford Focus (upgraded from the economy class toy car). I took the role of navigator as Mom got behind the wheel - a decision I would soon regret (although I imagine the scenario in which our roles were reversed would have provided me with equal amounts of stress.) There was much hullabaloo as my Mom attempted to get used to the curious Irish rules of the road ("Yes, for the tenth time you have to drive on the LEFT!") and complained about the "stupid" and numerous roundabouts - confusing, sure, coming at it from the opposite side, but the whole rotary concept should be fairly familiar to a woman who has lived all her life in Massachusetts, no?

We made our way down to Baltimore in West Cork, on the tip of one of several peninsulas in the southwest. Despite having talked about stopping for a rest and refreshment for the entire 4-hour drive, we kept plugging along, near-delirious with hunger and exhaustion (felt like we were driving at 3AM according to our GMT-5 internal clocks), finally stopping in Skibbereen for a bite (tuna fish with sweet corn sandwich - works very well actually) at Field's Coffee Shop. We then stopped in at the attached supermarket for a few minor provisions to bring to the house. Soon after we would finally reach our lovely spot at One Harbor Drive, Baltimore.


Baltimore, West Cork, The Republic of Ireland 07/06/08

There is a preponderance of hatchbacks in Ireland. Or at least traveling from Shannon Airport down through Limerick, Cork, Clonakilty, etc. We surmised that many of them had to be tourists with rentals just like us because of a few reasons:

1. Always iffy about where they were headed.
2. Generally traveling in the slow lane at "molasses in January" speed.
3. Often sported the arcane "L" sticker on the rear windshield. I still do not understand what this stands for ("foreigner" in Irish perhaps? "rube"?) or how one acquires (or is forced to display) it, but it evidently marks tourists as such, warning native Irish drivers, "Ah let's have a look here...aye this one's another feckin' tourist. Doesn't know the left side of the road from a bleddy peat bog so please refrain from giving him a hard time when he weaves about, comes to a dead stop in the middle of the roundabout, or comes flying straight at you at 100km/h down the wrong side on one of our quaint country roads without any directional signage or traffic markings that's tighter than a fish's arsehole."

My Mom liked these "L"-marked cars because they traveled at a relaxed pace and could help shield us a bit from blatant traffic gaffes. After various incidents of the sort described above, Mom said that we should try to find an "L" sticker for our car. I remarked that yes, we should slap a few on: one on every window perhaps?

She actually got a kick out of that one. Could've gone either
way there.

Made it to Baltimore without further ado and after some wine, cheese, and crackers, called it an early first evening, happy to have made it alive.

Not Quite Dilbert

During my first day back, on my failure to properly activate the projector:

"Looks like some U.E. from the E.U."

On selecting meeting attendees:

"OK, the account executives, the designer, and Mike, you're the voice of reason, so you should be there."

Day 1: International Departures

The following is the first in a series of entries from my travel journal chronicling my recent trip to Europe. Aside from some minor edits, these represent my thoughts and observations over the course of the trip. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 2

Logan International Airport - Boston, MA, USA 06/06/08

I arrived at Logan about two and 1/2 hrs. before my flight was scheduled to depart. I had checked in online, and was able to speed through not only the bag drop but customs as well. It was wonderful - the whole process took about ten minutes. Faster than some of the domestic flights I have taken! Granted, there was hardly any line, but still appreciated. I had expected a bit of a circus. Of course the flip side of this is that I had about two hours to kill before departure. Met Mom at the gate shortly after. Inhaled some Sbarro's and she pointed out that our aircraft is named "St. Padraig."
Bodes well!

A-side Is Stateside

Got back to Chez MRhé a little while ago after two weeks in Europe. To sum up in one word = tremendulous. Details to come, so watch this space for my travel journal (yes, I did it faithfully!). I won't be able to effectively convey the wonderful things I saw and experienced, but I will nevertheless attempt to do so with a few feeble jokes thrown in for good measure.

Now: to unpack, take a shower, pour myself a cocktail, go through a metric ton of mail (both snail and e-), check my bank account to make sure I didn't spend all my weak dollars overseas, check up on the blogosphere, start transcribing pages and pages of copious notes, download over a thousand pics, and generally get back in the game.

Feels like I've been gone for a while. Hope nothing went awry in my absence.

A Study In Verklempt

Aw thanks Anne!

Also: Got a bit dusty at the Hope Club this afternoon.