"Don't worry, my flight home is at 7.30 pm, let's drink, I'll get up at noon and be fine!" I said to the others. Regrettably, this is untrue.
I awoke at half past noon and double checked my itinerary, "HOLY SHIT GODDAMN MOTHER FUCK!" I yelled as I saw I had missed my Montreal-New York flight at 10.30 am. It had taken off and landed by the time I had woken up! I ran downstairs to Phillipe and yelled with a stutter what the problem was and we hightailed it into the car and to the airport, trying to get Qantas on the phone, but airline people know how to be unhelpful, "Thank you." I promptly told Erin - the woman in charge of Qantas points flights - in a matter-of-fact, go-fuck-yourself kind of way and hung up, flipping the phone shut.
Spending many precious minutes trying to find a flight to New York within the foreseeable future which would get me there in time for my New York-LA-Sydney connection, we ran from one end of the airport to the other, checking internet and every airline desk within reach. Finally the Air Canada woman helped us, informing us of a flight n Delta, "Well, there's one leaving at 4:15 to New York...but that's $930...let me check if I can bounce you from Toronto to LA...no, that's $1100...okay, the New York flight if your best bet." So we ran to the Delta desk and ran into a rookie girl running the check in and we babbled our story to her. A manager - Eric - quickly interjected and began to help us, booking me in with my credit card and a quick flash of typing, "...aaaaand there you go."
"Thank you! The first helpful person here!"
"Oh...your bag might be too big...here...these are valet luggage tags, they will take your bags from you as you board and give them back as you disembark." I thank him and Phillipe and ran to passport control, "Worst day ever." I kept muttering to myself.
Finally arrived in LA without a hitch. The place we came out was the same place we were leaving from thankfully. The flight had passed thankfully also passed quickly, and so I did not feel too tired, though I knew I would soon feel the strain of the long LA to Syd flight. We weren't waiting too long here, which was good - nothing to do but sit.
My words get confused as I think of their faces. Faces I won't see again for some time.
I look down to earth from this kingdom of clouds as radiant orange lights reflect off of the mysteriously beautiful clouds and I'm not sure what I feel.
I can smell myself and it's not a fantastic odour. I've been in the air for approx. a day and a half so no shower. I have brushed my teeth which felt good. I slept, too. Watched two or three movies. I can't remember now. It was just killing time. Music flows from my headphones and I miss them. Almost every song reminds me of them in some way. I will see half of them again soon - but not the others. I will have to go to them or them to me.
HA HA HA HA. It's been too long!
The cloud cover over Sydney was beautiful, magestic and expansive - each cloud looking like a small explosion frozen in time and turned white - beautiful masses which appeared solid as the ground we walk on, but are as ethereal as the concept of love.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Chapter 21: New Years Eve, Day and the Plane to the Great White North
I got up at 8:30am to the sound of Allyn getting back in, "Did you pick up?" I sleepily asked in tandem with Adam, my mouth muffled by the pillow, "Yeah man...well...I got a fuckin' blowjob man...this girl was cute in like, a heavy set way. I went back to her place with her friends and we smoked all this hash and she just ripped my pants off...I'm not wasted...I'm just high." he said as he fell into bed, asleep. I got up to breakfast with Adam and conversed on American conspiracy theories of 9/11 and JFK and we then went downstairs to chill in the self-cater dining room so Gideon could eat his self-bought meal and we just chatted and did the daily crossword. Soon they left to head to the coast and I stuck around to read and prepare my bags to leave, as I would probably forego sleep that night in favour of just heading to the airport for my flight.
During th eday I simply lazed around reading and at one point held a small concert for the hostel guests with Salvo's guitar; to the applause of a large group of Italians, constantly requesting sons I'd never heard of from artists I've never heard of. At around 7:30pm I went down to the staff kitchen to hang with Anne-Cecile and her friend's brother whose name I've now unfortunately forgotten.
We sat there talking to the various staff members I had befriended and drinking red wine (Halim and Bordeaux) and eating peanuts and pistachios. After about an hour I got a text from the Americans saying they had returned from the coast and would be crashing until about 9pm. When the time rolled round I headed upstairs from the kitchen and turned on the light on the sleeping Americans, who were already waking up anyway. We talked for a while and Gideon went out to get a half-bottle of Jameson and 4 cokes and we shared the whiskey evently between the bottles and began drinking as we left the hostel, ready to hit the streets by 10pm. We finished our drinks on the way to getting some food as I expressed my pressing hunger at my not having had dinner and the fellows agreed and we his Supermac's - a cheaper, seemingly better version of McDonald's.
After eating and running into another group of Italians from our hostel drinking beer, cider and champagne on the street, we decided to head to Lannigan's to see Ross. When we got there, the place was quickly filling up and we quickly grabbed seats at the bar and ordered a round of Irish Car Bombs - "To 2008!" we toasted - followed by pints of Guiness - "To Ross!" this time. There were other travellers in the pub with balloons and Gideon, Adam and I slapped them around with the other, older group of celebrators as Allyn talked with Ross and the other bartenders.
By 11:30 the boys wanted to leave Lannigan's in search of that ever important Midnight Kiss - despite me being content to stay at Lannigan's, as this was noy my priority. They never got those kisses. We left the pub to find another where there would be more girls our age that the bots would try and pick up, but before we did Ross impored us to have a glass of champagne with him and so we did. We soon his the streets again and over the bridge to find that most pubs were closed due to their being full, "I wanna be in a pub for the countdown," I said, "I don't want to spend the new year moment on the street."
"I know, I agree." conceded the three and as the time approached we had still nto found a pub, "Okay," said Gideon, "If we don't find one in the next five minutes, we're running back to Lannigan's." and I nodded fiercely.
"I don't care where we are, really," Gideon had said earlier, "as long as I'm in your good company."
We soon began legging it back to Lannigan's when Allyn ducked into a club on our right. We all followed him, me noticing that not only did we not pay the cover charge as the entry person was absent, but it was an over 23's club and three quarters of us were under that age, but we ran in with no problems. Once in the club we ordered up another round of Irish Car Bombs and as the countdown began within the club, prompted by the DJ, we readied to dropin the shot on "ONE!" and yelled, "To 2009!" in toast and downed the drinks. During the countdown, as well, the song "The Final Countdown" began playing and we danced like mad loons, like the mad loons we were, we are. We left the pub wishing New Years to the entrance keeper of funds we hadn't paid and the guards and subsequently to any fool we cam upon on the street. We encountered groups of intoxicated men and women and anyone we saw we wish New Years wishes to, me extending the greeting, "Happy New Years from Sydney, Australia!" each time, which was always a good icebreaker is seemed. Once on the street another countdown began amongst the immense crowds herding in the streets of Dublin and across the main bridges and at, "ONE!"there were abundent cheers and the sounds of fireworks, but none could be seen as a result of heavy fog and cloud cover, "LIES! What are these invisible fireworks!" I shout and Adam choruses with, "Unbelievable!" We set foot for Lannigan's once more and are greeted by a smiling Ross once more and I also notice Actor Joe from my second night here and greet him. We order a round of pints and are also given free glasses of champagne by Ross, "The pints are on me too, boys." and he smiles and winks. We thank him and toast to him once more. The group of revellers from before were still there and so we conversed with, and subsequently danced with, them as the Pogues' "Fairytales of New York" came on. We also struck up conversations with 2 older Englishwomen who were at the bar, who were amazed we'd come so far just to spend New Years in Dublin. At around 1am the bar was closing and Ross seemed tired, so we left, thanking him repeatedly. We ended up running into a girl Allyn tried to pick up but missed as she began necking with some other Irish guy we just met on the street moments later.
We made it to a club next to these Irish guys' hotel as they wanted to hang with us and inside Allyn needed me as a wingman so he could pick up a girl and he hated going solo; amused, I agreed. In this club we also - somehow - managed to avoid the money collector and got in free, saving another 10 Euros. Inside we ran into 2 girls, one of which Allyn wanted to pick up as I spoke to her friend, but we had to go get Gideon and Adam from outside, who had somehow lost the Irish guys.
Once back inside, they did have to pay the cover charge and we couldn't recover the original girls, so Allyn began hunting for another duo, whom he soon found in a couple of sisters from London, Allyn hitting on the younger of the two as I spoke (distracted) the elder, "Fuck drinks are expensive here," she said, "the pound is equal to the euro and a shot back home is 1 Pound and here it's 5 Euros, and this drink," she said holding up the drink, "was 8.70 Euros, where it'd be 3 Pounds back home!" We talked more on this sort of thing as I was interested to hear the differences as I had heard London to be quite expensive - and amongst this we lost Gideon and Adam again. This girl - Lucy - had a boyfriend who, for some reason or another, was not with her this eve, which I thought odd. I told her about Anna and how I wished she was there and Lucy thoughtthat sucked that we had to be so far apart. Turns out Amy - the younger sister - was also involved with someone, despite her overt flirtation with Allyn and the barkeep, "Do you want me to help you clean up?" she asked, grabbing the rag and wiping the counter. I suppressed a laugh and Allyn and I bid farewells to the girls in search of our comrades and a proper pub.
"So they both had boyfriends, those bitches!" he said.
"Not really. THey just wanted to meet people, too." I said back.
"I gues it's okay for you, and very smooth on bringing up your girl." I shrugged, it was a conversational topic. We soon ran into this Italian man with a guitar and I bothered him to play it and he handed it over, so I accosted the audience with "Wonderwall" and "Hallelujah" to uproarus, drunken applause. We then gained the company of an Aussie couple from Adelaide, the girl of which - Jane - tried to kiss me as I played guitar but I expertly maneuvered away. She did, however, catch me twice off guard, the first outside a pub when we were deciding where to go and I scolded her calmly telling her about Anna and then she did it again as they left our company, fascilitating my happiness to leave their company. I told her that that wasn't cool as I had already told her not to and had just been, in fact, on the phone to Anna, and she knew that. I walked back with Allyn to the hostel in a light huff. By the time I got back to the hostel it was 4:45am and I chatted with Allyn for some time before I got my bags and headed for the bus, wishing fond farewells to Allyn and his sleeping bretheren, "It's a shame we can't be everyday friends after this. I was discussing that with the others." he said and I nodded and smiled, "See you again soon." I said and went down to farewell the staff and hit the road for the last time to the bus stop, still swaying with drink. I soon got on the bus and ordered McDonald's breakfast at the airport waiting for my check-in to start - which I did expertly soberly despite the head full of liquor.
"Where're you headed?" asked a tall Asian man.
"Canada. For study." I said, concentrating on the words, holding my head sleepily.
"Oh, that's cool. I'm heading home to Chicago."
"Awesome."
"You in coach?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Well, I can get an upgrade to business. If you like, I could get you one too?" An alarm bell went off in my head and I didn't know what to say, "Umm...thanks...we'll see once I get to the check-in gate."
"Okay, cool. My name's JT."
"Jordan." and we shook hands. As I got to the security checkpoint, JT in front of me, he went through first and I waved him off and his suspicious offer of a free upgrade.
As I sat in the airport I was overcome with a sensation of anxiety and fear that this was my final leg of this trip. Once it was over, I was going to LIVE in another country for four months. The fact that I was tired, coming down off of drink and felt I had wronged Anna through no fault of my own didn't help and I called her and told her about everything and she soothed and calmed me. But things happen, life goes on.
I slept most of the eight and a half hour flight to Chicago and, after dealing with US customs and immigration, got onto my small charter plane to Montreal, which was not full and allowed me to not have a seat mate.
I was finally in the Great White North, I thought to myself as the planded landed in the -15 C cold, and who knows what awaits me here. And all I could pay attention to from the air was the lighly snow covered ground below.
- from the Journal, 31st December 2008 and 1st January 2009.
During th eday I simply lazed around reading and at one point held a small concert for the hostel guests with Salvo's guitar; to the applause of a large group of Italians, constantly requesting sons I'd never heard of from artists I've never heard of. At around 7:30pm I went down to the staff kitchen to hang with Anne-Cecile and her friend's brother whose name I've now unfortunately forgotten.
We sat there talking to the various staff members I had befriended and drinking red wine (Halim and Bordeaux) and eating peanuts and pistachios. After about an hour I got a text from the Americans saying they had returned from the coast and would be crashing until about 9pm. When the time rolled round I headed upstairs from the kitchen and turned on the light on the sleeping Americans, who were already waking up anyway. We talked for a while and Gideon went out to get a half-bottle of Jameson and 4 cokes and we shared the whiskey evently between the bottles and began drinking as we left the hostel, ready to hit the streets by 10pm. We finished our drinks on the way to getting some food as I expressed my pressing hunger at my not having had dinner and the fellows agreed and we his Supermac's - a cheaper, seemingly better version of McDonald's.
After eating and running into another group of Italians from our hostel drinking beer, cider and champagne on the street, we decided to head to Lannigan's to see Ross. When we got there, the place was quickly filling up and we quickly grabbed seats at the bar and ordered a round of Irish Car Bombs - "To 2008!" we toasted - followed by pints of Guiness - "To Ross!" this time. There were other travellers in the pub with balloons and Gideon, Adam and I slapped them around with the other, older group of celebrators as Allyn talked with Ross and the other bartenders.
By 11:30 the boys wanted to leave Lannigan's in search of that ever important Midnight Kiss - despite me being content to stay at Lannigan's, as this was noy my priority. They never got those kisses. We left the pub to find another where there would be more girls our age that the bots would try and pick up, but before we did Ross impored us to have a glass of champagne with him and so we did. We soon his the streets again and over the bridge to find that most pubs were closed due to their being full, "I wanna be in a pub for the countdown," I said, "I don't want to spend the new year moment on the street."
"I know, I agree." conceded the three and as the time approached we had still nto found a pub, "Okay," said Gideon, "If we don't find one in the next five minutes, we're running back to Lannigan's." and I nodded fiercely.
"I don't care where we are, really," Gideon had said earlier, "as long as I'm in your good company."
We soon began legging it back to Lannigan's when Allyn ducked into a club on our right. We all followed him, me noticing that not only did we not pay the cover charge as the entry person was absent, but it was an over 23's club and three quarters of us were under that age, but we ran in with no problems. Once in the club we ordered up another round of Irish Car Bombs and as the countdown began within the club, prompted by the DJ, we readied to dropin the shot on "ONE!" and yelled, "To 2009!" in toast and downed the drinks. During the countdown, as well, the song "The Final Countdown" began playing and we danced like mad loons, like the mad loons we were, we are. We left the pub wishing New Years to the entrance keeper of funds we hadn't paid and the guards and subsequently to any fool we cam upon on the street. We encountered groups of intoxicated men and women and anyone we saw we wish New Years wishes to, me extending the greeting, "Happy New Years from Sydney, Australia!" each time, which was always a good icebreaker is seemed. Once on the street another countdown began amongst the immense crowds herding in the streets of Dublin and across the main bridges and at, "ONE!"there were abundent cheers and the sounds of fireworks, but none could be seen as a result of heavy fog and cloud cover, "LIES! What are these invisible fireworks!" I shout and Adam choruses with, "Unbelievable!" We set foot for Lannigan's once more and are greeted by a smiling Ross once more and I also notice Actor Joe from my second night here and greet him. We order a round of pints and are also given free glasses of champagne by Ross, "The pints are on me too, boys." and he smiles and winks. We thank him and toast to him once more. The group of revellers from before were still there and so we conversed with, and subsequently danced with, them as the Pogues' "Fairytales of New York" came on. We also struck up conversations with 2 older Englishwomen who were at the bar, who were amazed we'd come so far just to spend New Years in Dublin. At around 1am the bar was closing and Ross seemed tired, so we left, thanking him repeatedly. We ended up running into a girl Allyn tried to pick up but missed as she began necking with some other Irish guy we just met on the street moments later.
We made it to a club next to these Irish guys' hotel as they wanted to hang with us and inside Allyn needed me as a wingman so he could pick up a girl and he hated going solo; amused, I agreed. In this club we also - somehow - managed to avoid the money collector and got in free, saving another 10 Euros. Inside we ran into 2 girls, one of which Allyn wanted to pick up as I spoke to her friend, but we had to go get Gideon and Adam from outside, who had somehow lost the Irish guys.
Once back inside, they did have to pay the cover charge and we couldn't recover the original girls, so Allyn began hunting for another duo, whom he soon found in a couple of sisters from London, Allyn hitting on the younger of the two as I spoke (distracted) the elder, "Fuck drinks are expensive here," she said, "the pound is equal to the euro and a shot back home is 1 Pound and here it's 5 Euros, and this drink," she said holding up the drink, "was 8.70 Euros, where it'd be 3 Pounds back home!" We talked more on this sort of thing as I was interested to hear the differences as I had heard London to be quite expensive - and amongst this we lost Gideon and Adam again. This girl - Lucy - had a boyfriend who, for some reason or another, was not with her this eve, which I thought odd. I told her about Anna and how I wished she was there and Lucy thoughtthat sucked that we had to be so far apart. Turns out Amy - the younger sister - was also involved with someone, despite her overt flirtation with Allyn and the barkeep, "Do you want me to help you clean up?" she asked, grabbing the rag and wiping the counter. I suppressed a laugh and Allyn and I bid farewells to the girls in search of our comrades and a proper pub.
"So they both had boyfriends, those bitches!" he said.
"Not really. THey just wanted to meet people, too." I said back.
"I gues it's okay for you, and very smooth on bringing up your girl." I shrugged, it was a conversational topic. We soon ran into this Italian man with a guitar and I bothered him to play it and he handed it over, so I accosted the audience with "Wonderwall" and "Hallelujah" to uproarus, drunken applause. We then gained the company of an Aussie couple from Adelaide, the girl of which - Jane - tried to kiss me as I played guitar but I expertly maneuvered away. She did, however, catch me twice off guard, the first outside a pub when we were deciding where to go and I scolded her calmly telling her about Anna and then she did it again as they left our company, fascilitating my happiness to leave their company. I told her that that wasn't cool as I had already told her not to and had just been, in fact, on the phone to Anna, and she knew that. I walked back with Allyn to the hostel in a light huff. By the time I got back to the hostel it was 4:45am and I chatted with Allyn for some time before I got my bags and headed for the bus, wishing fond farewells to Allyn and his sleeping bretheren, "It's a shame we can't be everyday friends after this. I was discussing that with the others." he said and I nodded and smiled, "See you again soon." I said and went down to farewell the staff and hit the road for the last time to the bus stop, still swaying with drink. I soon got on the bus and ordered McDonald's breakfast at the airport waiting for my check-in to start - which I did expertly soberly despite the head full of liquor.
"Where're you headed?" asked a tall Asian man.
"Canada. For study." I said, concentrating on the words, holding my head sleepily.
"Oh, that's cool. I'm heading home to Chicago."
"Awesome."
"You in coach?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Well, I can get an upgrade to business. If you like, I could get you one too?" An alarm bell went off in my head and I didn't know what to say, "Umm...thanks...we'll see once I get to the check-in gate."
"Okay, cool. My name's JT."
"Jordan." and we shook hands. As I got to the security checkpoint, JT in front of me, he went through first and I waved him off and his suspicious offer of a free upgrade.
As I sat in the airport I was overcome with a sensation of anxiety and fear that this was my final leg of this trip. Once it was over, I was going to LIVE in another country for four months. The fact that I was tired, coming down off of drink and felt I had wronged Anna through no fault of my own didn't help and I called her and told her about everything and she soothed and calmed me. But things happen, life goes on.
I slept most of the eight and a half hour flight to Chicago and, after dealing with US customs and immigration, got onto my small charter plane to Montreal, which was not full and allowed me to not have a seat mate.
I was finally in the Great White North, I thought to myself as the planded landed in the -15 C cold, and who knows what awaits me here. And all I could pay attention to from the air was the lighly snow covered ground below.
- from the Journal, 31st December 2008 and 1st January 2009.
Chapter 20: New Friends
I awoke at 4:30am to hear the American roommates discussing their night out, "Dude, where's Gideon?" Adam asked.
"He went home with a girl." Allyn said.
"No way! Good for him."
I then slept until 10am and got up in bed to ask the smelly Englishman drunkard for the time who then proceeded to tell me all sorts of ways to survive by finding water in the Australian desert, "And you drink the water out of the frog's pouch." And so I ask again for the time, saying I need breakfast and he says, "10:15, you may have missed it." Yeah, because of you!
"No, it finished at 10:30." I say instead and go downstairs and eat.
I spend most of that morning on the phone with Anna and my parents and at around midday and a half I hit the road for the Jameson Distillery. Walking in, the distilled smell of Jameson's honey and vanilla hits you and then you are met with a hundred bottle wall of the stuff at the bar. As the tour began the guide asked for volunteers and I raised my hand and received a small cardboard tube, "These are important, keep them for later." As the tour went on we saw a stuffed cat sitting up above us, "Moe used to average 23 mice per day, so they honoured him when he died by stuffing him and keeping him in the distillery." We passed into the next room and there was a small tasting barrel of malted barley, which tasted strangely like buttered popcorn. At the end of the tour, us volunteers were informed that we would get to taste 2 other whiskeys on top of our free glass of Jameson. The 2 others were Johnny Walker Red Label 12 Years, which is a Scotch Whiskey, distilled twice, and the othe was an American Whiskey, or Bourbon, Jack Daniels Black Label, distilled only once. Jameson is distilled 3 times. The Scotch was too smokey and tasted only of woodfire smoke and the American was too watery. Jameson tasted best and had the best smell - like vanilla and honey. At the end of the public tasting they presented us with "Official Whiskey Tasters" certificates, "That you can keep safe in your cardboard tubes." The guide said, smiling, giving us also our complementary glass of Jameson.
When I left the distillery I realised that I had had 4 shots of whiskey before - here I checked my watch - before 3pm on very little in my stomach. I wandered down Purnell street til I hit this small Italian place which served a range for relatively cheap. In there I conversed briefly with a mother of two about travelling and journal writing and soon left for the hostel.
As I got in, I met the Americans in the lobby and we decided to head out to the pub where I met Ross the barkeep. When we arrived the placed was packed and Ross put us at a pivate table just up the stairs and we ordered Guiness and Irish stew. We spent our time talking about girls - me bringing up Anna at everything - music and our various injuries.
"You're wise beyond your years." Allyn said when I told him I was 20, he being 24 and Adam being 22, unsure of Gideon's age, but likely in the same range. We soon left there at around 9:30pm and went back to the hostel to chill.
Allyn was set on going out again as he had failed to pick up the previous night, "I just have to!" he said. I felt too tired to hit the town anyway, considering how the following night would be, but Adam went out with him. I stayed in and just lazed before going to bed around midnight.
- from the Journal, 30th December 2008.
"He went home with a girl." Allyn said.
"No way! Good for him."
I then slept until 10am and got up in bed to ask the smelly Englishman drunkard for the time who then proceeded to tell me all sorts of ways to survive by finding water in the Australian desert, "And you drink the water out of the frog's pouch." And so I ask again for the time, saying I need breakfast and he says, "10:15, you may have missed it." Yeah, because of you!
"No, it finished at 10:30." I say instead and go downstairs and eat.
I spend most of that morning on the phone with Anna and my parents and at around midday and a half I hit the road for the Jameson Distillery. Walking in, the distilled smell of Jameson's honey and vanilla hits you and then you are met with a hundred bottle wall of the stuff at the bar. As the tour began the guide asked for volunteers and I raised my hand and received a small cardboard tube, "These are important, keep them for later." As the tour went on we saw a stuffed cat sitting up above us, "Moe used to average 23 mice per day, so they honoured him when he died by stuffing him and keeping him in the distillery." We passed into the next room and there was a small tasting barrel of malted barley, which tasted strangely like buttered popcorn. At the end of the tour, us volunteers were informed that we would get to taste 2 other whiskeys on top of our free glass of Jameson. The 2 others were Johnny Walker Red Label 12 Years, which is a Scotch Whiskey, distilled twice, and the othe was an American Whiskey, or Bourbon, Jack Daniels Black Label, distilled only once. Jameson is distilled 3 times. The Scotch was too smokey and tasted only of woodfire smoke and the American was too watery. Jameson tasted best and had the best smell - like vanilla and honey. At the end of the public tasting they presented us with "Official Whiskey Tasters" certificates, "That you can keep safe in your cardboard tubes." The guide said, smiling, giving us also our complementary glass of Jameson.
When I left the distillery I realised that I had had 4 shots of whiskey before - here I checked my watch - before 3pm on very little in my stomach. I wandered down Purnell street til I hit this small Italian place which served a range for relatively cheap. In there I conversed briefly with a mother of two about travelling and journal writing and soon left for the hostel.
As I got in, I met the Americans in the lobby and we decided to head out to the pub where I met Ross the barkeep. When we arrived the placed was packed and Ross put us at a pivate table just up the stairs and we ordered Guiness and Irish stew. We spent our time talking about girls - me bringing up Anna at everything - music and our various injuries.
"You're wise beyond your years." Allyn said when I told him I was 20, he being 24 and Adam being 22, unsure of Gideon's age, but likely in the same range. We soon left there at around 9:30pm and went back to the hostel to chill.
Allyn was set on going out again as he had failed to pick up the previous night, "I just have to!" he said. I felt too tired to hit the town anyway, considering how the following night would be, but Adam went out with him. I stayed in and just lazed before going to bed around midnight.
- from the Journal, 30th December 2008.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Chapter 19: Jumping into Life as Poetry
"oh boy oh boyohboyoh boy oh boy..." This was the sound I awoke to, "Fuck...aww shit..." as the new drunkard roommate climbed off his bunkbed, "breakfast...yeah, breakfast...I gotta ask them." and then he slammed the door. I got up some minutes later - as my silent, religious roommate opened the blinds onto the dawning Dublin morning - and took another cold shower. I went down to breakfast and ate with James, Luca and Fabio again and made plans to see Fabio at 2:30pm to go see the national gallery, and then I set off towards my day.
I took the walk down the bustling Dublin streets to Kilmainham Gaol, the oldest prison in Dublin/Ireland, where all the leaders of the Easter Uprising of 1916 were housed and executed. Walking through the dark, musty hallways, across the echoing, cold, stone floow, knowing that 158 men had taken this path as their final steps was strangely haunting. But it was also grandiose as we entered the main hall - built in 1860 - where the film "In the Name of the Father" was shot and I was walking the same ground as Daniel Day Lewis and Peter Posthelwait was very cool. We even walked the ground where those leaders' blood was spilled in the stonebreaking yard.
When I left, the cold had become more biting and I felt it chrystallise my bones and I was hungry so on the way I found a place that served an all day breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, toast, beans and white pudding. I ate that and soon left after a group of roudy Irish youths entered the place and began to talk loudly.
When I arrived back at the hostel I still had an hour to wait for Fabio and so I fell asleep on the front room couches reading Kerouac's "Lonesome Traveller".
Pretty soon - or so it seemed - I was awoken by Fabio's moustachioed face and an older Brazillian woman named Christina saying, "Let's go." We walked through the brisk air to the national gallery, seeing traditional Irish art from the 17th and 18th Centuries and some Italian art - some REAL Caravaggios! After seeing as much art as we could take, we left and began the walk back - it has gotten colder still. We stopped in on an Irish music store and soon continued on our walk, but Fabio left us as he had to be back at the hostel. Christina and I continued our walk, steopping in various stores, and she soon began detailing the intimate details of her life to me, "I met this Irish man Patrick at the hostel 4 days after I arrived," she said in her thick Brazillian accent, "and he has quite a good body for his age, you know? He's 65 and I'm 46, but he is very sweet. But there are some problems, you know? Like, he is a very PASSIONATE man, very sweet, he writes poetry, you know? So we are getting INtimate and he does not getting too hard, you know? So when I try to blow him, you know, to suck him, he goes, "No! No! Don't do that!" and we haven't even had sex yet! So I ask him, "When did you first go to bed with a woman?" you know what he answer me? 38."
My jaw visibly dropped, "I know!" she exclaims, "But he is also very Catholic man. But he tease me, you know? He say "You're serpant!" and he laugh. He was cheap - he never went shopping with a woman before me, you know? But now he spends more...only a little. But I ask too, what do you do with your day? "Get up, breakfast, read the paper." he says. He's very cultured, but mostly about Ireland, so what do you about NZ? Australia? Canada? "Nothing" he says. So what do you know? I ask. He lives a very sad, lonely life, and I told him so. But do you think he likes me?" She was very all-over-the-place but very sweet.
On our way back to the hostel Christina says, "I'm hungry, I need to eat. I know a place, but you can't tell anyone, okat?" So I nodded. We head down O'Connell street to one of its crossroads and take the right fork and then down the first alley of Earl Street. We head down the darkened alley to a place where a light was on over a doorway and people in blue uniforms were standing around outside smoking and having a chat, "Oh, so when we walk in," she said, "don't say a word and just do what I do. Everyone will be wearing the same blue uniforms."
"Christina, what is this place?"
"It's the terminal where the bus drivers eat," she said, "it's cheap and you really gotta be in the know to know about it. Now, if anyone asks you, my father used to work here, and you're my nephew here learning English." I nod.
To say the least, it was intimidating walking into that room of red-faced, blue uniformed Irish people, who, when they looked up to see who had enetered, expected to see a familiar face and instead found my curls.
"They know me now, I think, I come here a bit. Get a table." We put our things on a table and get our trays and gather up a buffet meal and I swear on my own, 7.50 Euros for a drink, a hot meal (pork chops, beans, mashed potatoes and whatever else), salad and a tea or coffee. We eat our meals in silence and soon move off back to the hostel, "Yeah, it was cheap," I said, "but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't intimidating walking in there." We soon got back to the hostel and I told her about past loves that had messed me around (not mentioning any names - we don't have to be cruel, do we?) and about Anna and how I thought she was "the girl of my dreams" and "the One" and she smiled. She showed me one of Patrick's poems and it was contrite and obvious to say the least, but when I showed her mine she laughed and said she liked them. She then wrote one for me, off the top of her head, written in Portuguese and then translated;
"The Boy"
Your curly hair
sparkling, reflecting -
reflection.
It spreads such a peace
that comes inside you.
That comes from you -
and angel.
Your skim, very white
your eyes with a deep
blue reminds me of an ocean.
Huge, empty, full, finite,
unlimited.
Lots of emotions.
Your calmly speaking, at
the same time, exciting
reminds me a little
boy, playing joyfully
in a big garden.
Without worries, happy
no thoughts, no needs,
no words, no yes,
no no.
Flowing, unique, eloquent.
Suddenly a light breeze
passes by
An ocean smell, at
the end of a hot
summer afternoon
Relieves...
- to be continued -
She wrote wryly on the page, "It's not trying to seduce you." She clarified.
"I know," I said, "from one writer to another." And she cried as she read it as it was her first poem since her mother died and she had torn up her 100 poems.
Soon Christina left to help another Brazillian with something and I found myself chewing on my journal. I look over and see the blonde girl I had seen upon entering the hostel the first day on the opposite couch laughing, "What?" I ask.
"Does it taste good?" she asked.
"Yeah, great, totally better than your Diet Coke and celery." I said, nodding to the tall bottle of Diet Coke and large packet of celery. She laughed. Turns out she's from Holland, over for Christmas break with her two friends Tantiva and Natasha. She was Milu. We spoke for some times on our travels and our studies before they soon had to head to the airport back home. I spent some times on the phone with Anna and talking with Will down in the dinner room listening to the Dubliners before I went to bed at 11:30pm.
- from the Journal 29th December, 2008.
I took the walk down the bustling Dublin streets to Kilmainham Gaol, the oldest prison in Dublin/Ireland, where all the leaders of the Easter Uprising of 1916 were housed and executed. Walking through the dark, musty hallways, across the echoing, cold, stone floow, knowing that 158 men had taken this path as their final steps was strangely haunting. But it was also grandiose as we entered the main hall - built in 1860 - where the film "In the Name of the Father" was shot and I was walking the same ground as Daniel Day Lewis and Peter Posthelwait was very cool. We even walked the ground where those leaders' blood was spilled in the stonebreaking yard.
When I left, the cold had become more biting and I felt it chrystallise my bones and I was hungry so on the way I found a place that served an all day breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, toast, beans and white pudding. I ate that and soon left after a group of roudy Irish youths entered the place and began to talk loudly.
When I arrived back at the hostel I still had an hour to wait for Fabio and so I fell asleep on the front room couches reading Kerouac's "Lonesome Traveller".
Pretty soon - or so it seemed - I was awoken by Fabio's moustachioed face and an older Brazillian woman named Christina saying, "Let's go." We walked through the brisk air to the national gallery, seeing traditional Irish art from the 17th and 18th Centuries and some Italian art - some REAL Caravaggios! After seeing as much art as we could take, we left and began the walk back - it has gotten colder still. We stopped in on an Irish music store and soon continued on our walk, but Fabio left us as he had to be back at the hostel. Christina and I continued our walk, steopping in various stores, and she soon began detailing the intimate details of her life to me, "I met this Irish man Patrick at the hostel 4 days after I arrived," she said in her thick Brazillian accent, "and he has quite a good body for his age, you know? He's 65 and I'm 46, but he is very sweet. But there are some problems, you know? Like, he is a very PASSIONATE man, very sweet, he writes poetry, you know? So we are getting INtimate and he does not getting too hard, you know? So when I try to blow him, you know, to suck him, he goes, "No! No! Don't do that!" and we haven't even had sex yet! So I ask him, "When did you first go to bed with a woman?" you know what he answer me? 38."
My jaw visibly dropped, "I know!" she exclaims, "But he is also very Catholic man. But he tease me, you know? He say "You're serpant!" and he laugh. He was cheap - he never went shopping with a woman before me, you know? But now he spends more...only a little. But I ask too, what do you do with your day? "Get up, breakfast, read the paper." he says. He's very cultured, but mostly about Ireland, so what do you about NZ? Australia? Canada? "Nothing" he says. So what do you know? I ask. He lives a very sad, lonely life, and I told him so. But do you think he likes me?" She was very all-over-the-place but very sweet.
On our way back to the hostel Christina says, "I'm hungry, I need to eat. I know a place, but you can't tell anyone, okat?" So I nodded. We head down O'Connell street to one of its crossroads and take the right fork and then down the first alley of Earl Street. We head down the darkened alley to a place where a light was on over a doorway and people in blue uniforms were standing around outside smoking and having a chat, "Oh, so when we walk in," she said, "don't say a word and just do what I do. Everyone will be wearing the same blue uniforms."
"Christina, what is this place?"
"It's the terminal where the bus drivers eat," she said, "it's cheap and you really gotta be in the know to know about it. Now, if anyone asks you, my father used to work here, and you're my nephew here learning English." I nod.
To say the least, it was intimidating walking into that room of red-faced, blue uniformed Irish people, who, when they looked up to see who had enetered, expected to see a familiar face and instead found my curls.
"They know me now, I think, I come here a bit. Get a table." We put our things on a table and get our trays and gather up a buffet meal and I swear on my own, 7.50 Euros for a drink, a hot meal (pork chops, beans, mashed potatoes and whatever else), salad and a tea or coffee. We eat our meals in silence and soon move off back to the hostel, "Yeah, it was cheap," I said, "but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't intimidating walking in there." We soon got back to the hostel and I told her about past loves that had messed me around (not mentioning any names - we don't have to be cruel, do we?) and about Anna and how I thought she was "the girl of my dreams" and "the One" and she smiled. She showed me one of Patrick's poems and it was contrite and obvious to say the least, but when I showed her mine she laughed and said she liked them. She then wrote one for me, off the top of her head, written in Portuguese and then translated;
"The Boy"
Your curly hair
sparkling, reflecting -
reflection.
It spreads such a peace
that comes inside you.
That comes from you -
and angel.
Your skim, very white
your eyes with a deep
blue reminds me of an ocean.
Huge, empty, full, finite,
unlimited.
Lots of emotions.
Your calmly speaking, at
the same time, exciting
reminds me a little
boy, playing joyfully
in a big garden.
Without worries, happy
no thoughts, no needs,
no words, no yes,
no no.
Flowing, unique, eloquent.
Suddenly a light breeze
passes by
An ocean smell, at
the end of a hot
summer afternoon
Relieves...
- to be continued -
She wrote wryly on the page, "It's not trying to seduce you." She clarified.
"I know," I said, "from one writer to another." And she cried as she read it as it was her first poem since her mother died and she had torn up her 100 poems.
Soon Christina left to help another Brazillian with something and I found myself chewing on my journal. I look over and see the blonde girl I had seen upon entering the hostel the first day on the opposite couch laughing, "What?" I ask.
"Does it taste good?" she asked.
"Yeah, great, totally better than your Diet Coke and celery." I said, nodding to the tall bottle of Diet Coke and large packet of celery. She laughed. Turns out she's from Holland, over for Christmas break with her two friends Tantiva and Natasha. She was Milu. We spoke for some times on our travels and our studies before they soon had to head to the airport back home. I spent some times on the phone with Anna and talking with Will down in the dinner room listening to the Dubliners before I went to bed at 11:30pm.
- from the Journal 29th December, 2008.
Chapter 18: Guiness Times, Good Times
I awoke at 9:15 and went to shower, to discover that the hot water wasn't working and was forced to take a very unsatisfying cold shower. I went down to breakfast and ate amongst James, Ben and Fabio (yes, his real name) - another Italian. I made plans to meet with Fabio at 1pm at the hostel and went off to wander the city. As the James Joyce center was closed, along with the Bad Art gallery, I headed up to the Guiness Storehouse. The tour was interesting, and took us step by step through the history and brewing process of Guiness beer in Ireland - which included tasting a sample of the dried barley that goes into the beer. Up the many flights of stairs lay the advertising centre (containing all the old and new avertising material for Guiness), the tasting lab and finally the "Pour Your Own Guiness" table. I poured my own perfect stout and recieved a certificate to the effect. I sat at the nearby bar and drank my beer next to an American from Illinois and a Canadian from Newfoundland. We chatted briefly about why we were in Dubline and what we were doing in our lives before I came to a brief pause, "Now I think of it," I said, "I didn't eat anything except for pints of Guiness and an Irish stew yesterday." And I laughed.
"That's very Irish of you." She, the Canadian, said.
"Well, when in Rome...or...Dublin...: I said, smiling and raised my glass. I soon left them and went to the shop and got some tourist goods and began the trip home when I checked my watch - I was very late. After getting a little lost in downtown, I finally made it back to the hostel and Fabio was nowhere to be found. I waited and decided to get some eats and then returned and sat in the kitchen hall. I figured I wouldn't go out this afternoon and just kill some time until 7pm when I would go on the literary Pub Crawl of Dublin.
Decided not to hit the pub crawl and ended up drinking in the basement with French people - William and his siste Anne-Celine.
We soon left and hit the town at a pub called Sin-E where they were serving 3 Euro pints of Guiness. We sat at a small wooden table by candle light and chatted as the old school funk, blues, jazz and soul music got louder. In the empty dancebloor a girl - blonde wearing a blue dress and excessive neck jewellery - began dancing on her own, "Reckon I should go dance with her?" I asked, "I feel like dancing."
"You got nothing to lose." William said. So I walked over to her, "May I have this dance?" I asked.
"You may!" she said, extending her hand and I took it and we danced random improvised foot-tapping twirling side-stepping crazy dances to the music. She was one of those girls who spasms and moves all herself to the music crazily. Turns out she was from the Czech Republic and her friends are celebrating a wedding downstairs and her boyfriend doesn't dance, "My girlfriend does," I said, "I wish she was here." and she smiled, "That's sweet." When the music finished, the girl went to go join her friends again, "Thank you for the dance," she said, "You're the best improviser I've ever danced with, it was great!"
"It was my pleasure." and I sat back down. Pretty soon the whole floor erupted into dance as popular, classic songs like "Play that Funky Music White Boy" and "Hit the Road Jack" began to play and I hit the dancefloor again, dancing with anyone, from anywhere, male or female.
At around 1am I was tired and I decided to head back to the hostel.
Now I think about it, Anna used to say that a dance wasn't always sexual, and I thought I knew what she meant when I danced with that girl. Retrospectively, it was sexual and that's when I should've picked that something was wrong.
I fell into bed around 1:30am.
- from the Journal 28th December, 2008
"That's very Irish of you." She, the Canadian, said.
"Well, when in Rome...or...Dublin...: I said, smiling and raised my glass. I soon left them and went to the shop and got some tourist goods and began the trip home when I checked my watch - I was very late. After getting a little lost in downtown, I finally made it back to the hostel and Fabio was nowhere to be found. I waited and decided to get some eats and then returned and sat in the kitchen hall. I figured I wouldn't go out this afternoon and just kill some time until 7pm when I would go on the literary Pub Crawl of Dublin.
Decided not to hit the pub crawl and ended up drinking in the basement with French people - William and his siste Anne-Celine.
We soon left and hit the town at a pub called Sin-E where they were serving 3 Euro pints of Guiness. We sat at a small wooden table by candle light and chatted as the old school funk, blues, jazz and soul music got louder. In the empty dancebloor a girl - blonde wearing a blue dress and excessive neck jewellery - began dancing on her own, "Reckon I should go dance with her?" I asked, "I feel like dancing."
"You got nothing to lose." William said. So I walked over to her, "May I have this dance?" I asked.
"You may!" she said, extending her hand and I took it and we danced random improvised foot-tapping twirling side-stepping crazy dances to the music. She was one of those girls who spasms and moves all herself to the music crazily. Turns out she was from the Czech Republic and her friends are celebrating a wedding downstairs and her boyfriend doesn't dance, "My girlfriend does," I said, "I wish she was here." and she smiled, "That's sweet." When the music finished, the girl went to go join her friends again, "Thank you for the dance," she said, "You're the best improviser I've ever danced with, it was great!"
"It was my pleasure." and I sat back down. Pretty soon the whole floor erupted into dance as popular, classic songs like "Play that Funky Music White Boy" and "Hit the Road Jack" began to play and I hit the dancefloor again, dancing with anyone, from anywhere, male or female.
At around 1am I was tired and I decided to head back to the hostel.
Now I think about it, Anna used to say that a dance wasn't always sexual, and I thought I knew what she meant when I danced with that girl. Retrospectively, it was sexual and that's when I should've picked that something was wrong.
I fell into bed around 1:30am.
- from the Journal 28th December, 2008
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