Bitching Brew

Fin

2010-01-24T02:56:00.002Z

I've been writing this blog for over four years. The truth is, however, that it's been on life support for quite some time. I haven't written anything interesting here for at least eighteen months. Therefore, I've decided to close it.

This doesn't mean the end of my blogging career. Au contraire. For the last month, I've been experimenting with a few test blogs, using different formats and different hosts. My choice is made: the personal, photo-ridden blog is to drift gently into the night, and my energies will be directed to a more topical one.

It wasn't a difficult decision. I'm no longer the college kid that set up this site as a means to vent and stay in touch. Facebook, for all its faults, largely fills those roles now. I doubt if anyone still uses this to follow my life; if you do, I advise you to look me up on Facebook. (I'm not hard to find... just be sure to introduce yourself!)

From now on, I'll be writing regularly at a fine neologism I concocted: Novellogue. I hope to provide interesting links, a little commentary, regular playlists, and the odd personal story. I'm a grad student in politics now, so expect a heavy concentration on the affairs of state. By the way, the course is going fantastically well. I didn't expect to excel at an academic Masters programme after three years out of college, but my grades and feedback to date have surpassed anything I ever managed as an undergrad. I'm really enjoying my work, and I have a rendezvous with the Joint Parliamentary Committee on Electoral Reform in just over a week. Here's hoping its esteemed members pay attention!

Should you wish to continue reading me, look me up at Novellogue dot Wordpress dot Com. I'd love to have your attention and your comments.

Thanks for reading.

Martin

Words I'd Strike from the Dictionary

2009-12-28T01:57:00.004Z

Fear not - I don't plan to turn my moribund blog into a pedant's corner. Instead, I intend to reinvigorate it for the new decade. Before then, however, I'd like to sign off this sour decade with a semi-whimsical fingering of words old and new.

Winningest. This ludicrous word reads like a dyslexic Dutchman's rendition of "to drink wine". What was wrong with "most successful"?
Burglarize. Teehee. I'm not one to look down on American English, as I think some of its words are markedly superior to their British counterparts. Nevertheless, this simply sounds daft. When I hear "burglarize", I think of a criminal version of Midas whose spindly poke turns Minoan pilgrims into inveterate thieves. Alternatively, perhaps the R***ssion has burglarized a cohort of the newly-unemployed. In either case, alas, "buggered" is a better fit than "burglarized".
Pre-Order. Think about it. An adverb is usually better than a prefix.
Pre-Select. I'd banish "pre-order", but I'd take a garrote to "pre-select".
Utilize. Here's a handy rule of thumb: never use three syllables when one will do. Oh, see that word I used? Oops, I did it again. Don't write like a technician; you're meant to craft your words, not engineer them.
Action - when used as a verb. This is exclusively uttered by corporate types who find plebeian forms of speech, such as "do", repugnant.
Incentivize. Three options here: motivate me, offer me some incentives, or find yourself in an incendiary situation.
Proactive. Why be proactive when you could be active? Why speak to the proconsul if you shot quail with the consul?
Enhanced. No object is improved, and certainly no sentence is improved, by the intrusion of this once-useful adjective.
Bonk. One of Britain's lesser contributions to language.
Deliverable - particularly when used as a noun. 'Tis an obnoxious neo-synonym for "outcome", which itself has been hijacked by MBA factories.
Do - when used as a noun. I refuse to go to a do (especially when held in a loo or a zoo). If crashing a party is beneath you, then surely you'd settle for attending a soiree.
Grub. It's hardly the most appetising noun, is it?
Snog. Another case where American English wins out. Its wee cousin Sprog also ought to be sent into exile.

Any additions to the list?

La nostalgie - Dublin in spring

2009-08-31T23:15:00.005+01:00

Blue sea, green grass, red blood, and yellow sun. If only every day was like (that) Sunday.

To Moskva!

2009-08-19T00:13:00.002+01:00

T-minus 36 hours...

The Quick and Easy Guide to Pissing Off Your Housemates.

2009-07-26T14:17:00.007+01:00

(1) Constantly complain about the house, missing no opportunity to air your desire to find a new home.
(2) Be offended when your housemates don't share your enthusiasm for living further away from the city, nor for paying 60% extra rent for that privilege.
(3) Inform your housemates by e-mail that you've given the landlord your month's notice, although you could have said it in person at our shared dinner the night before.
(4) Make little effort either to secure a new home or to assist in finding a replacement. Go on holiday for two weeks.
(5) Decide while on holiday that you might actually want to stay, but not bother to tell anyone. Meanwhile, your housemates are running ads and giving up several evenings to show the place. After a lengthy process, your housemates offer someone the room. She accepts with pleasure and pays the deposit.
(6) Return late from your holiday, and call the landlord to say you might like to stay. During this call, you suggest to the landlord that if he's willing to provide better beds, it would be perfectly acceptable to increase the rent by €100 per person, per month. The landlord, naturally, thinks this is a fantastic idea. The housemates remain unaware of this entire conversation.
(7) Seven days before you're due to move out, inform your housemates of the above conversation.
(8) React with fury and insults when your housemates tell you that someone else has agreed to move in, that they object to your proposal to the landlord, and that you can't just go around breaking promises. You grudgingly accept, with flecks of contempt, an offer to let you stay for up to a month while you search for a new home. You accuse the housemates of a conspiracy to evict you.
(9) Stomp loudly, blank your housemates, and create a maelstrom of noise any time you're in the kitchen.
(10) On Saturday evening, after agreeing to let your housemates invite friends over, your plans for the night fall through. You come downstairs, reduce the music, turn on the TV, and crank the volume up. You ignore both your housemates and their guests.

Am I wrong to be infuriated by this person, whom I would previously have called a friend?

Beneath the willows.

2009-07-19T22:18:00.005+01:00

People don't take enough time out in this city. The hectic pace of work hours seems to continue through the rest of the day and week. I suppose business and busyness are close cousins; thus by escaping from one, I hope to moderate the other. (I'll speak of that soon enough.)

On Charlemont Street Monday evening, my cheek winced at the light tap of a raindrop. I've taken to walking this way recently, as it lets me stroll a short stretch of the Grand Canal (sometimes Gross Gutter), a prettier route than my old haunt of South Richmond Street.

On a bright summer evening, taking the south bank is a pleasure, as the sunlight warms my face and my mood. That time, the increasing patter and stacks of grey cloud signalled a full downpour was imminent. Thus I decided to walk the north bank, hoping to shelter beneath the willow trees that curve across the canal, protecting the old tow path. When the sky cracked a minute later, the rain came down in torrents. People scuttled for cover... yet hardly anyone made use of these beautiful natural umbrellas. Even the few that did got frustrated after little more than five minutes, and decided to brave the rain in order to get moving. I was alone in waiting out the storm for twenty minutes. It didn't feel like lost time; instead, I quite enjoyed watching the strange habits of people in rain. For instance, two lads in their twenties emerged from the flats behind the canal with fishing lines. They explained that the height of a storm is one of the best times to catch fish. I'm still a little sceptical, as they reeled in only junk and weeds.

When the rain cleared and sunlight returned, I naturally moved off. Despite the drips of rain that made their way through my cover, I'm quite pleased I was caught outdoors in the downpour. It was a thoroughly enjoyable wait beneath the willows. More and more, I'm learning to appreciate the trees in my neighbourhood.

He does have news, though he's only a little less coy than normal.

2009-05-06T20:36:00.001+01:00

And the internet is gone again. I seem to have a knack of picking apartments in broadband black spots. This time, the absence may be permanent, after our already-useless ISP decided to downgrade their local transmitter, putting us completely out of reach.

My master-plan is proceeding smoothly. You may know what it is, but if not, it's not difficult to extrapolate. All my applications for September were accepted (a fine ego boost!), so now I have the luxury of choosing the most challenging option. Once that's trained my mind and bloodied my soul, I shall take the rare (and welcome) opportunity to work in the US. So in less than 18 months, I plan to be living and working in the US. That ought to be followed by a proper jaunt across the Pacific, taking in New Zealand, South-East Asia, Central Asia, and finally, the Middle East. Of course, I'm at complete liberty to amend that itinerary. I'm almost as likely to head east and take the Trans-Siberian. After that? Perhaps a Ph.D.; perhaps not. I'm aware of my constraints, but I treat the world as my oyster, and I'd like to sample every last bit before going on to master it.

Budapest

2009-04-13T19:18:00.006+01:00

The interior of St. Stephen's Cathedral.

The plaza outside the cathedral.

The upper front exterior of the cathedral.

The Gang of Four fellow explorers from the hostel, representing Australia, Canada, and the Netherlands.

My urge to jump was tempered by the knowledge that the barge was en route to Bratislava.

The (dirty) Danube, with Buda on the left and Pest on the right.

Crossing the Chain Bridge.

Peeking across the river at the Parliament building.

Looking across to Pest.

That wall was wonderful to laze on. Let's not mention the vertical drop on the other side.

I like the colour in this picture. It was taken from Buda's Castle Hill.

Sunshine breaks on Fisherman's Bastion.

Budapest, if you haven't noticed already, is frequently beautiful.

The stupendous Parliament building bathed in sunset gold.

Moonrise over Pest.

Two travellers stand above the centre of the Danube. You may recognise the skanky, dishevelled backpacker on the right...

My route across Europe

2009-04-11T13:51:00.008+01:00

In case you're curious, here's a list of all the inter-city journeys I made as I crossed Europe. And I wonder why I'm still tired...

Dublin - Rosslare
Rosslare - Fishguard
Fishguard - Swansea
Swansea - London
London - Bruxelles (Brussels)
Bruxelles (Brussels) - Liège
Liège - Aachen
Aachen - Köln (Cologne)
Köln (Cologne) - Mannheim
Mannheim - Basel
Basel - Interlaken
Interlaken - Luzern (Lucerne)
Luzern (Lucerne) - Bern
Bern - Spiez
Spiez - Interlaken
Interlaken - Lauterbrunnen
Lauterbrunnen - Stechelberg
Stechelberg - Mürren
Mürren - Stechelberg
Stechelberg - Lauterbrunnen
Lauterbrunnen - Interlaken
Interlaken - Bern
Bern - Zürich
Zürich - Wien (Vienna)
Wien (Vienna) - Budapest
Budapest - Суботица (Subotica)
Суботица (Subotica) - Београд (Belgrade)
Београд (Belgrade) - Ниш (Niš)
Ниш (Niš) - Димитровград (Dimitrovgrad)
Димитровград (Dimitrovgrad) - София (Sofia)
София (Sofia) - İstanbul
İstanbul - London
London - Dublin

Switzerland: The Bernese Alps

2009-04-10T13:07:00.011+01:00

Aya Sofia!

2009-03-15T18:51:00.002Z

If ever a train ride was worthy of the label "ghetto", that was it. Fortunately, I lost only 5 euro, 7 dinar, my English-Bulgarian phrase notes, and some of my Western prejudices and standards. I also acquired a marriage proposal, a short time in true squalor, a glance into deep poverty, some sketchy companions, two unsuccessful muggings, a knack for paying bribes, and a few really good stories.

Now I'm in crazy Istanbul. More to follow.

Alarmist?

2009-03-12T22:45:00.004Z

The trip has been amazing so far. Budapest was especially fun. Right now, I'm chilling on my last night in Belgrade, Serbia. Ever wondered what a bomb site looks like up close? Ever been morbidly curious to see the sick devastation wrought by a cruise missile? Come and have a look around; you'll have plenty of spots to choose from.

On Saturday, I'll be in Istanbul, and I'm really looking forward to it. Unfortunately, to get there, I may have to endure the sketchiest 24 hours of my life. I'll be travelling by train from Belgrade to Sofia to Istanbul... and I haven't been able to reserve a cabin or sleeper of any kind. I'm told that it may be possible once I reach Sofia. There is no way I'm going overnight through Bulgaria in a regular seat; the daytime journey will be unpleasant enough. The "trains" I saw in northern Serbia were Third World at best. I never expected to see bare metal boxes without doors, air-conditioning, food, water or toilets, and people clinging onto the sides, pass as inter-city transportation in Europe. Then again, if you'd seen the camps and shanty towns that pass as regional cities in these parts... And beyond the seating conditions, the stories and warnings I've heard from fellow travellers are giving me the jitters.

If the first leg of the journey turns out to be repulsive, I may take the emergency option of an overnight bus from Sofia to Istanbul. Yes, it may well be nastier than an overnight Greyhound, but I've been told it's less dangerous than the train.

In all my travelling, I've never been so apprehensive. I hope my worries are overblown.

Really!!!

And now for Europe...

2009-02-26T23:29:00.005Z

I'm a little nervous now. Sure, I'm excited, but this is the time when the anxiety creeps in. I can no longer escape the fact that I'll be alone, without no one to turn to, through several foreign countries. Yes, the 24 hours before departure have a habit of suppressing all my previous confidence... but only for those 24 hours.

It'll be fine once I'm on the ferry. Until then, a gaggle of little doubts will merrily Morris-dance around my skull.

My trip plan has altered slightly. My first bed will be in Brussels instead of Paris. Since it'll take me 22 hours and 5 connections to get there, I'm giving it two nights. I'm now ending the journey in Istanbul rather than Ephesus. Also, I'll poke my head into Luxembourg, and I've dropped Zurich and Salzburg. This way, I'll be spending a little longer in each of my stops, which should make the trek less tiring without being less rewarding.

Onward, pseudo-soldier.

Winter-railing!

2009-02-17T00:44:00.003Z

The drift has been arrested.

Last time I wrote, I was rather listless. Now that I've taken decisions and chosen my gambles, I'm looking to the future with optimism instead of foreboding.

The option(s) chosen may surprise. You'll hear in due course - but naturally, one has to be wary of the corporate minions who trawl the web.

To date, I've only visited 12 countries - a rather pathetic total. Just after my 25th birthday, I set myself a target: while I'm still 25, I want to bring that number to 25. Thereafter, the total should always exceed my age.

I'm devoting this year to exploring Europe. Adventure one kicks off in ten days. The mission: to cross Europe without flying. The intended route: Dublin - Holyhead - London - Paris - Interlaken - Zurich - Salzburg - Vienna - Budapest - Belgrade - Sofia - Istanbul - Ephesus. In eighteen days, I aim to sample Alpine adventure, the high art of Mitteleurope, the decay and buzz of the old Eastern bloc, and the greatest city in world history. Capital of three empires, spanning 1600 years? Beat that.

As a trip like this can't be fully booked in advance, I'll be improvising and playing with the itinerary as I travel. I like to live by my wits! After Budapest, for example, there are potential pitfalls. (Let's not mention thieves and sketchy hostels.) The Belgrade - Sofia line is currently out of service, so unless that's restored in time, I'll have to divert. One option would be time-consuming - to continue south from Belgrade, to Skopje in Macedonia, and then Thessaloniki in Greece before heading for Istanbul. The other possibility would be to eschew both Belgrade and Sofia in favour of Transylvania.

This trip will see me set foot in at least six new countries - Switzerland, Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Turkey - bringing me to a total of eighteen.

Before anyone asks: yes, it would be easier, more comfortable, quicker, and cheaper to fly directly from Dublin to Switzerland... but where's the fun in that? At the age of 25, I'll have entirely crossed two continents by land. While not a spectacular achievement, it is a minor one - and one to built upon. It won't surprise you to learn that I plan to ramp that number up from two to five before I'm 30.

This is by far the most exciting trip I've taken since I was 21 - and I am *stoked*.

Beyond one's control...

2009-01-14T00:12:00.002Z

Four months ago, I was planning my professional studies abroad.

Now, not only can I no longer afford that, but I may have to keep working to support my family, even though I live apart from them.

How quickly prospects change.

Québec (Photos)

2008-10-27T14:32:00.005Z

Québec, founded in 1608, is celebrating its 400th anniversary this year. It's an interesting little city, though it would be an inhospitable home in winter. For those who think Boston, Montreal and Philadelphia are "like European cities", think again. (Or visit Europe.) Québec puts all three in their (proper, North American) place; there's nowhere like it in North America.

Note: As I didn't bring a tripod on tour, my night shots are all hand-held long exposures. I'm delighted with their quality; all my practice is finally paying off. You need ninja stillness to pull off a two-second exposure.

This fountain lies just outside the city walls. In the background sits l'Hôtel du Parlement, home of l'Assemblée nationale, Québec's provincial parliament. Its Second Empire architecture resembles Philadelphia's City Hall, and sets it apart from other provincial parliament buildings.

Porte St. Louis - one of the four gates in the city walls.

Part of the massive Château Frontenac hotel, as viewed from the Terrasse Dufferin, a boardwalk overlooking the Basse-Ville (Lower Town).

The upper part of Le Château Frontenac. This building hosted two summits of Allied leaders in 1943 and 1944. I wonder which room is cheaper per night: Roosevelt's or Churchill's?

L'Édifice Price, Vieux-Québec's tallest structure. This small skyscraper from the Depression era was built in a fine Art Deco style.

A shot taken around le Séminaire de Québec and le Musée de l'Amérique française.

Cannons along the walls of l'Haute Ville (the Upper Town), overlooking the vast St. Lawrence River.

Another picture from the Upper Town. The statue is of Mgr François de Laval.

A narrow street in la Basse-Ville (the Lower Town), harbouring more than its fair share of souvenir shops.

An impressive mural in the Lower Town. Place Royale, the site of the founding settlement, is visible on the left.

The Funiculaire ferries people between the Lower and Upper Town. It's cool, but I preferred to use l'Escalier Casse-Cou (the Break-Neck Stairs).

The QE2 was docked at Québec on its final cruise around the world. I had no idea that cruise ships sailed so far upriver - Québec is hundreds of kilometres from the sea.

The bow of the departing QE2. The ship is enormous; even the Titanic was smaller.

Confusion.

2008-10-19T23:59:00.005+01:00

I wasn't sure that I wanted to be stuck in debt for the next several years. That doubt doesn't really matter anymore, as I'm now unable get a student loan for my studies abroad (nor even to study here). Yes, my carefully-laid plans have been shredded by the financial crisis.

I've saved hard for some time now, but even factoring in all possible funding and scholarships, I'm falling too far short. I always knew a student loan would be necessary to cover a third of my costs. The ugly truth is that I can't afford to study what I want to - not just where I want to, but anywhere.

So, I don't really know what I want to do now. These doubts were growing during my recent travels, and now the loss of my default option has created a yawning gulf in front of me. I'm trying to see it as an opportunity...

The options open to me fall into three broad categories:

Work away for another two years to slash the loan needed. This would mean that I'd be applying at the end of 2009 to begin in autumn 2010.
Find a one-year Master's course in a discipline I'm slightly interested in. If it was in Ireland or the UK, I could probably afford it... just.
Throw the towel in. Escape from this dead career path, renounce further study, and head to foreign lands to enjoy the second half of my twenties.

I don't like option one at all. I'd have to scrimp and save for another four years, go back to college having been out for four years, and worst of all, probably be stuck here in Dublin in a depressing career rut for another two years. I could only survive it if I found a new line of work; however, I'm in this job only because I couldn't find anything else. It'll hardly be easier to find satisfying work now.

Option two offers the advantages of a higher qualification, a probable change of career, and an escape from the current ball and chain. It comes with the disadvantages of wiping out all my savings, probably tying me to Britain or Ireland until I'm thirty, and having to settle for a field of study (and career) not wholly desired.

Option three is exerting a strong pull on me right now. My current line of work offers neither intellectual nor personal satisfaction. The corporate world is clearly not for me. Even if I can't find intellectual satisfaction by running away, perhaps I can find something that I enjoy - something that warms my heart.

It would be risky to choose option three. I could find myself experiencing Canada Redux, more than once: having the time of my life for a year, and then being forced to leave. I could live abroad comfortably for the next five years, but then what? No qualifications, no consistent work experience, and possibly having to return to Ireland?

It could, however, be the courageous choice. Having a good TCD degree is a great advantage, but in some ways, it can be a burden. It pushes one toward either postgraduate studies or a professional career, and the subject studied narrows the options further. The burden is psychological more than social - a largely internal pressure to "make the most of your degree". I've been avoiding both graduate studies and a professional career for some time now, though I believed I had settled on a plan to pursue both. The doubts persist.

In my twenty-five years, I've discovered one activity that I truly love: travel. Maybe I never lost my childhood curiosity. I'm fascinated by urban life and charmed by the great outdoors. To my love of travel, I've married my other great hobby of the last three years: meeting new people. I've not yet grown bored of constantly adding new friends and stirring the social pots. Having said all that, I now have a strong appreciation of home, of friends, and especially of family. The great lesson of my time abroad is that although I have a strong intellectual bent, my real passions are social. I would have never discovered that (or fully indulged them) had I continued straight on at university.

I'm restless, and I have much to decide. Each path offers riches of various kinds; however, the paths are long, and thus they also preclude so much.

P.S. Photos from the trip will follow soon!

The August update.

2008-08-25T02:33:00.003+01:00

News:

I'm just back from a long weekend at the Edinburgh festival(s). It's definitely a must-see.
I'll be spending much of October and November preparing for the GRE. Oh joy. There's also the small matter of filling out several course applications.
After a lull of over half a year, the internet will soon return to my home life. I'm moving out of the money-pit in two weeks. I have high hopes for the next place, wherever and whatever that turns out to be. It will have internet. And a washing machine. And a passable kitchen.
September is going to be a blast. Can-Can-Canada, here I come again. This'll be the third September in a row I'll have been in TO. (Yes, I really like the film festival. The heat and sunshine also appeal.) A few days in the metropolis, catching films and embracing friends, will be followed by fourteen speeding around eastern Canada. This year, I'm going beyond my usual urban adventures. The great wilderness awaits. Let's hear it for a few of these: hiking, kayaking, sailing, whale-watching, bungee jumping, camping, canoeing, river-tubing, mountain biking, and a fair sprinkling of culture and fun.

Non-news:

I'm not looking forward to work tomorrow morning.

Beep.

2008-07-09T19:23:00.006+01:00

Yes, I'm still alive. It's been a decade since I lived without internet access; it's really beginning to grate now. The offline world certainly has its advantages, but the handicaps of living in a telecoms black hole are considerable. I miss Skype, messengers and blogging too much. Even e-mailing is tough: my workplace blocks all web-based e-mail. Besides, the job is too time-consuming to afford me much opportunity. All this calculation and negotiation.... bleurgh. If I got as little as 0.01% commission on the current deal, I'd be a very happy man, but 'tis not to be. (OK, very happy is an exaggeration, but I'd still get two great holidays out of it.)

I read, wrote and argued a lot about the Lisbon Treaty, and am very irritated I couldn't blog about it. Sadly, it wasn't feasible, but my arguments probably influenced more votes than the blog would have! There weren't many people in Ireland (or Europe) who read that thing, let alone the pre- and post-amendment versions of the Treaty of Rome and the Treaty on European Union. Among the little band that did, even fewer had read the abortive Constitutional Treaty, and compared the equivalent passages in Lisbon. I studied more than enough of the European Union (law, institutions, history, economics and politics) to make sense of the unwieldy beast behind the referendum proposal. So yes, I'm quite annoyed I couldn't write about it. It's not often that I'll be one of the thousand most informed people in the country about a critical vote. Still, my arguments may have strongly influenced as many as... five people. Ahem. (Yes - that's more than my blog would have.)

Once I'd finished my second reading, my objections had proceeded from individual articles to the entire document. Enough of this intergovernmental-federal mishmash; I refuse to devolve power without accountability. Either Europe reverts to a weakly united group of sovereign states, or it moves toward a federal system with each layer of government directly accountable to its citizens. The EU is no Soviet Union, but it has strayed too far from the liberal, republican and democratic principles its members espouse.

I voted No with a clear mind, and I've never felt happier with my vote. (Also, it's nice to be part of the majority for once.) Should (or when) our great leaders move to circumvent the vote, neither this blog nor this citizen will be silent. I've written commentaries on a couple of articles largely ignored in the debate; they'd be the first pieces to appear.

May, Britain and Photography.

2008-05-18T16:36:00.004+01:00

Long weekends keep me sane. I'm being careful not to eat away my annual leave; all my days off so far have been either public holidays or accumulated flexi-time credit. Next weekend though, I'll be using up my first two vacation days. I can afford to: after that, I'll still have another six weeks to play with this year.

Last month, I visited Edinburgh, Stirling and (briefly) Glasgow. I'm just back from Glasgow again, where I met travelling friends. Scotland is a lovely place. I'm going to return to Edinburgh during the festivals in August. Next weekend I'll be in London for four days. I'm really looking forward to it; I haven't "done" London properly before. There's so much to see - I'd take a week if I could, but the budget wouldn't stretch that far. Still, it'll be a fun four days - I can't wait to catch up with some friends.

I'm working hard at photography these days: practicing my technique and composition. I was dissatisfied with my autumn pictures last year: my skills and my camera both let me down. There were too many shots that I failed to pull off, sometimes through bad composition, but more often because of a lack of advanced technique. My camera was a fine starter model - a nice semi-automatic digital, but I ran up against its limitations as often as my own. It couldn't keep pace with my improving technique.

Thus, when money started to roll in this spring, I invested in some serious kit. It's not the top of the line, but it'll last me years. It's able to handle photojournalism, landscapes, urban photography and portraits, though I wouldn't risk it at an outdoor sports event. (Technically, it's excellent, but it doesn't have the durable build of the most expensive models.) I'll need to gradually invest in additional lenses, and a couple more accessories. My technique isn't yet strong enough to justify those, but I'm improving quickly.

Dublin's a fine city to learn photography. The cityscape is varied and beautiful scenery is within an hour of home. Alas, the days are too long now for me to shoot sunrises. I'm noting the best static photo-ops I come across; I plan to shoot each of them several times, at different times of day and year, as well as under varying weather conditions. Once I'm proficient at still life, urban and landscape photography, I'll switch to practicing portraits. You can't run without learning to walk. That'll be several months away at least...

Don't worry, I'm not deluded enough to expect a career out of this. Should I prove skilful, that could happen, but it's not worth thinking about now. I'm doing this for fun - it flows naturally from my love of travel, people and cityscapes.

Life

2008-04-03T22:34:00.003+01:00

Just a very quick note. I've been conspicuously absent from the blog (and the internet) for the past month, due to the equally conspicuous absence of internet in my new apartment/cramped closet in a 200 year old building. Although I've written plenty in notebooks, I haven't had the time to load anything up, and it has a tendency to date. (Like me?!) This internet cafe isn't free, and it's also cramped.

Still, I live in one of the best locations in Dublin. The southern end of Camden Street is not to be sniffed at, nor is my 7 minute walk to work. I'm surrounded by cheap stores, great bars and ridiculous clubs. Around the corner is Ireland's only Jewish bakery, which is a morning pilgrimage point. Life isn't bad. I see my friends all the time now. Come visit. I make good coffee and have an intriguing drinks cabinet. Failing that, come for exotic teas and Hob Nobs.

21 Vignettes.

2008-02-29T00:46:00.010Z

Air - Sexy Boy
Travelling on a Skytrain to Burnaby in the late morning, rolling above hills and houses; gazing at the snow-dusted mountains, stark against the bright blue sky. I was looking for Halloween costumes at the Value Village thrift store. Maybe I was hoping to look like a sexy boy in a $15 patchwork. Maybe it was my Southern tan, good hair and cheerful, confident air. This song just worked. The opening bars were perfect as the train tilted modestly. Oh Vancouver.
Devendra Banhart - Canela
Ever sit on a low stone wall and forget everything? Two robins kiss and the afternoon crowds pass by. Love or lust - what does it matter? Deaf to disapproval and blind to children's covered eyes, hours to the world are timeless for two. The song is perfectly short - what else needs to be said? Looking blankly at a bus window, it briefly stirs wistful thoughts.
Nine Inch Nails - Closer
Jen and I played this at full boom for the next door neighbours going at it against the wall of our sun-room. The illicit couple provided endless aural pleasure; their arguments were irresistible.
Monifah - Touch It
Yeah. You know it. Do I hear a teehee in the back?
Bruce Springsteen - Downbound Train
Some things in life are beyond your control. She leaves or you have to move. One word gnaws at your...my soul: 'if'. It's not the if of the coward, that lingering regret about inaction. No, this 'if' steals more than happiness and confidence; robbed, cheated, I feel helpless and mortal. The theft of passion haunts more than the avoidance of it. This song is about if and its corrosion of my soil.
Pulp - Disco 2000
I remember dancing to this long before 2000; it seemed so far away then. Now it's 2008. Hmm. Let's all meet up in 2015? Some of you will be pushing 40 by then... yikes.
David Bowie - Everyone Says 'Hi'
This superficially innocent song strikes me deeply. Double meaning to me: an emigrant across the ocean, severed from everyone he knew and loved; and trying to explain death to a child. It's a song of loss - when you realise truly that someone you care about can no longer be reached.
Erasure - A Little Respect
One of the great pop singles. Beware: if your special someone is listening to this song a lot, you're doing something very wrong. If you wonder why I'm cynical and cautious, there's a hint here.
Goo Goo Dolls - Black Balloon
Be careful who you fall for. Be careful who you get involved with. A gutted childhood or youth need not be a deadweight or anchor; it can be a black balloon, a spur to action. But using such a balloon to carry oneself isn't the conquest it seems - it isn't letting go. "I almost fell into that hole in your life." I even "went on as you got colder". I'd like to think I meant more to you than ice from the spoon... but I'm not sure.
Journey - Don't Stop Believing
I'll always remember playing this on a jukebox in a roadside diner, off I-75, an hour north of Atlanta. It was an empty Waffle House, with the sun gone down, the staff apathetic and the coffee rank. I chose this strangely apposite track to go with a slice of pecan pie. Don't stop believing - you're living the American dream..........
The Knife - Heartbeats
Something to ponder on a late-night bus. It works equally well on the quiet Montreal metro; the succession of stations, sliding doors, and walking faces made a fine video for this stranger's choice of song.
Oasis - Don't Look Back In Anger
My karaoke song of choice on foreign shores. (My accent buys me a lot of leeway.) Good memories of mediocre but homely Toronto bars.
The New Pornographers - Sing Me Spanish Techno
Here's a travel song for you! I often need to get away, take time out, find some distance, and revel in novelty and adventure. I often did "crash here right now". Take the whole chorus from "travelling at godspeed" on - that's my story. It got me pumped en route to obscure towns I knew nothing about.
New Radicals - You Get What You Give
How can this not inspire you? Gloomy morning in work - click it on. Best song of the 90s?
The Arcade Fire - Ocean of Noise
I see a couple slow-dancing underwater. It must be a shallow shore, because the water is dimly lit by a bluish-green afterglow. He's wearing an old morning suit, she's dressed in a passed-down ball gown. Is it a last dance? I think so. Stretch, swing, pivot, then tight again. It's beautiful and unbearably sad.
Weezer - Buddy Holly
On the open road in northwestern Ohio, wind whipping through my hair and T-shirt on a hot August afternoon. It's a great driving song, but I'll always associate it with my first glimpse of a nuclear power plant, which we passed at a safe distance of... 100 metres. The thing was sinister, especially at night, with its little rim of blinking reds poking through a cloud of steam, spoiling an open sky of black velvet and glitter.
Timbaland - The Way I Are
I remember it fondly: the first place I heard it was a cramped backseat, racing down Broadway on a raucous Friday night. The lights, rhythms and vibrant fire life of half Vancouver lined the street for us. Or so it seemed. Timbaland raised the roof, but we pushed it higher.
The Waifs - London Still
Ever been homesick? The kind that can't be cured with a last-minute Ryanair flight? Oh, life mightn't be a cesspit, but the people you need at that moment are impossibly far away.
The Twilight Singers - The Lure Would Prove Too Much
One of a dozen reasons why they're my favourite band. I lack the genius to describe this wonderful song. I don't know why it's so good. Just close your eyes and play it.
Wolf Parade - Shine a Light
This song sticks from my first bus into Toronto. Early evening, a pewter-Irish sky, only higher and wider. At first all was grey - the vast concrete flyovers and spaghetti junctions of Pearson Airport gave way to the 16-lane monster that is the 401. Eventually, punching through the cocoon of dull suburbia, my dead gaze gave way to shivers. As we turned onto Lakeshore West, the CN Tower reached to the rising moon, watching over bands of shimmering skyscrapers that lined the inland sea. Half an hour later, I was alone at King and Simcoe, pulling a broken suitcase beneath the watchful street lamps of an alien city. Now those were shivers.
James Carr - The Dark End of the Street
I was awoken to New Orleans soul in... Knoxville, Tennessee. Thanks are due to a pair of English installation artists, an obscure used vinyl store, and two funky local girls. To my ears, this is the greatest soul song and performance of them all. You can't help but tremble at the pain and guilt of this torn cheater, knowing he and she will never stop.

2008 Travels

2008-02-24T21:50:00.006Z

I have a bunch of hand-written stuff to upload to the blog - I hope to get lots of it up over the next week. A flood of e-mails has upset my balance recently. Between work, the commute and house-hunting, I've had little time to devote to replies and blog posts.

One of Europe's finest advantages over North America is the lengthy vacation time. I have between five and seven weeks to spend wisely this year. I've already promised to pop over to Edinburgh during the festival. (Coincidentally, I'm also going there on a business trip in April.) I plan to take a long weekend in London during the spring. It's my local metropolis, and I have a few friends there. Beyond those certain trips...?

Although I spent over a year in Canada, I never saw the Northern Lights. I'd like to rectify that in the coming autumn or winter. My destination of choice: Tromsø, Norway. Tromsø is one of the world's northernmost settlements, located at 69°40' N. (For the sake of my photography, it might be smart to visit before or after daylight goes AWOL for two months.) It's not excessively difficult or expensive to reach, is set in a stunning landscape, and offers the chance of a nocturnal marvel.

Tromsø, for all its glory, will be small fry compared to my major adventure this year: Fun in the Balkans (TM). Why go somewhere safe when there's a simmering cauldron of ethnic conflict to sip from? Ahem. In late August, I'll fly into Budapest, Hungary. After an overnight train journey south, the (coach class) adventure will follow this route:

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Dubrovnik, Croatia
Kotor, Montenegro
Podgorica, Montenegro (If I time it right, I'll catch the Ireland-Montenegro football match.)
Belgrade, Serbia
Novi Sad, Serbia

After Novi Sad, I'll head for either Budapest (again) or Bucharest, Romania, to escape back to the West. Here's hoping the Kosovo furore has cooled down in six months, and that I can play the Irish card in Serbia. I'd rather not be mistaken for an American or Briton there...

I'll still have several vacation days to play around with, but those are the major projects so far. Exciting stuff!

Interregnum.

2008-01-23T01:13:00.002Z

Does society need structure? I don't believe a society exists without some form of structure, formal or otherwise. I suspect that "authority" lurks behind "structure", in the answer as much as in the question.

Does the human need structure? Less abstractly, do I need structure? The last four months have been largely devoid of it. I can divide that chunk of my life neatly in half.

The first two months lacked a formal structure or authority, but they did constitute an adventure, a quest almost. For what? Don't be silly; a quest doesn't need a charter or mission statement. Think more along the lines of a personal quest, similar to those practiced by many First Nations. Mine, however, was shaped by strangers rather than animals, and guided by rarely-seen relatives instead of ancestral spirits. A quest has a rough but mutable plan of action. The guiding motives are personal and arise spontaneously during the absence from the community - from the structure. Immersion and separation are my two poles of understanding.

Structure is a monarch, and the four great pillars of structure are home, family, occupation and lover. I lacked all four of those for two months on the road. (Far-flung family members have a special position.) The freedom and disorder were exhilarating and relaxing, each in their own good time. Disordered strands eventually clump into order, so the liberty could not last forever; it has its own half-life.

Once back in Ireland, I clung (without noticing) to the pillars of family and home. Single and unemployed, my life remained disordered, but it began to assume temporary patterns. Starved of the internal authority of the quest, I began to flounder in the void.

The interregnum initially brought liberation, and a marvellous self-reliance. Authority, ambitions and acts were spontaneously generated. I resolved competing demands quickly, using a flash-mix of instinct and logic. Internal harmony is a beautiful thing, and it becomes near-mystical when your surroundings (natural and human) seem to resonate. Eventually though, the happy dream faded as external forces impeded. Harmony was lost once resources drained, and the structures of society are fain forgiving of the materially bankrupt.

The second half of the interregnum has been marked by a struggle for order - a struggle for re-admittance? The order found is not a permanent constitution; nevertheless, this makeshift arrangement will be adhered to for quite the foreseeable future. Finances will be re-built, and experience accumulated within the structure this time. A longer period of immersion - before the next separation. My new job begins next Monday; a new home shall follow within weeks. I'm graduating from university soon, a mere twenty months after my final exams. (Even the year below beat me to the parchments.) Oh, and I've finally memorised my new phone number - surely a sign that I've accepted my place for now?

A Distaste for Perfection (I)

2008-01-10T21:30:00.000Z

Television. 3-D graphics.

Models. Make-up. The glossy photo.

The perfect 10. Normal BMI.

The quest for symmetry.

Pushing all the buttons. The ideal relationship.

Special effects. The movie death.

Second Life. Television.

Structures. Equations. Facts.

The hero. The divine.

Stock shots. Appropriate emotion.

Life by numbers. Sex by numbers.

Manuals. Guidebooks.

Television.

The image. No longer grasping for reality - it is reality.

Food in Ireland, or >:(

2008-01-09T00:56:00.000Z

The Irish diet is slowly killing me. I'm doing my best to fight it, but it's impossible to eat the same way I did in Toronto. I need to establish a compromise position, and then slowly work away from the Irish stuff.

Irish (and British) cuisine is bland, badly cooked and stodgy. Bread, meat and potatoes are the three staples. I did eat a variety of breads in Canada, but I shunned potatoes and ate very little meat. The greatest problem with the diet here is that meat is generally the main offering, with vegetables and such treated almost as condiments. In contrast, when I cook, I treat the carbohydrate (pasta, risotto, or Asian rice) as the centrepiece of the meal, with meat, fish and vegetables as side dishes. It's a healthy principle to follow, though it must occasionally be elided, e.g. when serving salmon or a roast meat. In those cases, I still try to maintain balance by making the meat or fish no more than 50% of the serving.

There is plenty of excellent Irish produce, but the recipes and the quality of cooking fail to make the most of it. In particular, the salads tend to be tasteless and unimaginative. Two varieties of green lettuce doth not a salad make! The best cuisine in Ireland draws on foreign recipes for inspiration, but then blends those with the local specialties and ingredients. I'm hopeful that this trend will spread into homes; it is slowly taking root in Dublin's restaurants and cafes. As for home cooking, people here rely far too much on boiling and frying. Their inappropriate use is an offence to taste as well as health. Way to kill a flavour.

Rant over.

On a more positive note, I'm going to maintain a list of decent cafes, restaurants and bars in Dublin, either here or on Facebook. I'll begin in this post by drawing on my recent experiences, in no special order. A hall of shame may follow in the future... but I haven't got all night. Until then, here are the good ones.

The Cake Cafe - Tucked away off Camden Street, this hidden gem serves decent lunches, lovely teas and yummy cakes. Oh - when I say hidden, I'm not kidding.
Busyfeet & Coco Cafe - I've been fond of this place for years. The food is good, the coffee decent, and the chai lattes are among Dublin's best. The food is a little pricey though.
The Market Bar - Good value for a small group. Mmm, patatas bravas to share. The tapas menu is reasonably priced and of decent quality. I recommend the fish pie.
Il Caffe di Napoli - Genuinely excellent coffee (a rarity in Dublin). Westland Row commuters are lucky to have it.
The Woolshed - I'm including this sports bar because the nachos are the best I've had in Dublin. They'd easily pass muster in North America.
Fallon & Byrne (cafe) - Excellent sandwiches, available for take-out if desired. Warning: a number of friends have been disappointed by the restaurant downstairs.
Zaytoon - Dublin's best kebabs. The ideal 3am snack.
Dunne & Crescenzi's - It's over-run these days, but if you can get a table, yum. The coffee is fantastic (as is its price). I'm a fan of their bruschetta and smoked salmon salad. Glasses of wine are good value.
Keogh's Cafe - Go for the scones, the scones!
Cornucopia - Vegetarians in Dublin aren't spoiled for choice. Cornucopia is a fine spot for lunch (try the garlic potato salad), though I'd never choose it for dinner. I dearly miss Toronto's veggie restaurants. :(
Lemon - I still haven't tasted better crepes in Dublin. Question: why do people eat savoury crepes? I don't get it...
Il Baccaro - I really liked this Italian restaurant, concealed in a Temple Bar cellar.
Botticelli - Pop in for some ice-cream to go. You won't regret it. Not unless you're dairy-intolerant.
Lemon Jelly - Eat at the Northside branch, not the Temple Bar one. It's a good place to snack. Oddly, their take-away coffee is rubbish, but inside it's fine.
Cafe Cagliostro - Very nice coffee and hot chocolate.

Recent reading.

2007-12-14T15:46:00.000Z

On average, I read about thirty books a year. (Yes, I know I could be doing better. Blame the internet and my socialising.) That works out at roughly a book per fortnight, but averages are misleading. I tend to read several books in a burst, before going through a long lull. I picked up and read a bundle of books while travelling this fall, but once I returned, my brain clogged up for three or four weeks. I've only just got back in the reading habit.

Anyway, while I redraft my next post proper, I'll tell you what I was reading over the last ten weeks. Oh yes... definitely a highlight of the blog, this post.

The Economic Consequences of the Peace - John Maynard Keynes
The Canon - Natalie Angier
Cicero - Anthony Everitt
The Worldly Philosophers - Robert Heilbroner
JPod - Douglas Coupland
The Outsider - Albert Camus
The Americanization of Benjamin Franklin - Gordon Wood
Northern Protestants: An Unsettled People - Susan McKay
Death Sentences - Don Watson
Disgrace - J.M. Coetzee
The Imperial Presidency - Arthur Schlesinger
From Babel to Dragomans - Bernard Lewis

Of the twelve, Death Sentences was the solitary disappointment. The first third was good, but the rest of the book was incoherent and muddied the writer's thesis. In contrast, Disgrace and The Imperial Presidency were exceptional works.

You can tell that I've a strong bias toward non-fiction; just three of the twelve books were novels. Continuing the trend, four of the five books I ordered last night are works of history, philosophy or politics. Sandor Marai's Embers is the lone novel.

Under the weather.

2007-12-05T11:45:00.000Z

Over three weeks back, and the novelty has worn off.

Dublin has been a mixed bag so far. Catching up with long-unseen friends and family has been a blast, and sometimes a little poignant. Much coffee, alcohol and food were spilled. Certain aspects have exceeded my expectations; others haven't even met my cynically low hopes. The rudeness and conservatism of the Irish character are driving me to rage. Also, why are so few people interested in making new friends? Too many people seem jaded; perhaps their youthful enthusiasm has leached into the green groundwater. Public transport is a sick joke. Luckily, I've benefited from the start of a new private operator, providing daytime bus service to the city in half the time of old.

Although a couple of old friends have let me down, some are much the same, and others are better than ever. I expected as much. A few new associates, most notably a charming Canadian girl (on exchange here for a year), have added enough colour and vim to keep my spirit ticking over. I already have a good idea who my core friends are going to be for the next several months. They're a fun and trustworthy set.

I miss the rest of my friends, scattered like salt across the simmering globe: Jen, Rachel, Ewan, Gordon, Meaghan, Genevieve, John, Jess, Dawn, Crystal, Laura, Gerald, Caroline, Susie, Gina, Tara, Clare, the Stephs, James, Paul, Melissa, EeWai, Alex, Shikha, Manuela, Aaron, Paul, Brian, Mark, my little branch of the family in Tennessee, all the funky people I met during two months on the road, and the dozen others I've inadvertently left out.

That's a long list of fantastic people, each of whom I feel privileged to know. Every one of them knows how to cheer me up, make me laugh, and help me out when needed. I'd do (and have done) the same for them. It's a good thing I still have a little bunch of equally awesome friends in Dublin, or I'd be packing my bags for London.

There are bright sides too. My family have been wonderful since I returned; I appreciate them more than ever. Dublin city is more cosmopolitan; the influx of immigrants is finally bearing fruit, sprouting bars, cafes and restaurants a-plenty. After living deep in the continent for a year, I'm loving the sea and the stiff salty breeze. I even like dark evenings on Killiney Hill, struggling in the face of gales and driving rain.

I'm interviewing for a number of jobs at the moment. My year in Canada has put me a couple of rungs above new graduates, so it looks like I'll be getting a well-paid, challenging position. It has to be done, sadly. If nothing else, I promise to do my best to weed out unwieldy sentences and horrible corporate jargon; I tried hard while serving the people of Ontario. Besides the immediate matter of a job, I need to figure out how I'm going to spend the next few years. It would be nice to have one rough plan, rather than the three I'm currently mulling over.

My two-four passed without incident a week ago. I've never had a less significant birthday. Compared with shifting continents, it wasn't worth a glass. I spent the day with my mother and brother; having partied the previous five birthdays away, I felt it was only right. Besides, the previous weekend was a Scots-powered river of liquor.

Montreal

2007-11-28T14:59:00.000Z

The build-up to a Montreal Canadiens (Habs) game. The Real Madrid of ice hockey doesn't let fans or visitors forget its history.

The Habs have a penalty shot, and the arena holds its breath. (A penalty shot is extremely rare, and is a special moment for a hockey fan.) No goal though.

The Habs overwhelm the Philadelphia Flyers' defence in the build-up to their fourth goal.

A quiet street corner by the hostel. Locals nod and say "Bonjour". I like it; Anglophones could learn a thing or two from Montreal manners.

Boul. Saint-Laurent (I think) in the Plateau Mont-Royal district. I was looking for Montreal bagels at the time.

Looking downtown from near McGill University.

McGill.

Waiting for a metro around midnight. The subway stations in Montreal are excellent - much better than those under Toronto.

A nod to Paris.

Basilica Notre-Dame.

L'Hôtel de Ville - Montreal's City Hall.

Vieux-Montreal - the old city. It's about the size of Dublin's Temple Bar and is equally over-rated.

Northern Ontario

2007-11-20T14:41:00.001Z

Lake of the Woods.

Malachi, a bona fide hamlet.

A Northern Ontario forest at the onset of winter.

One of Ontario's smaller lakes. With half a million lakes, there is some diversity...

Sioux Lookout, the self-proclaimed "Hub of the North". This town of five thousand people is the largest in an area the size of Texas.

Another lake. Look, you don't understand how bereft of human activity this region is.

The social hub of Capreol.

Ruined soil and corroded rocks around Sudbury.

More of Sudbury's beauty. Nickel mining has taken a gruesome toll on the local environment.

More lakes and trees - a fair summary of Northern Ontario.

Western Travels

2007-11-20T13:45:00.000Z

Climbing into the Rockies in eastern British Columbia.

The roof of the continent was lower than I expected; belts of cloud smothered the taller mountains. I love the texture they added to the photo.

Snow is perennial up there.

Lovely, but chilly.

Jasper town.

A shot of opportunity.

Unspoiled beauty.

What a wonderful landscape.

For my next mountain climb...

A sample of Winnipeg architecture. Well, minds do go funny so far from the sea; this is close to the geographic centre of the continent.

More pictures from Vancouver.

2007-11-19T19:42:00.001Z

On a chilly October morning, I cycled around Stanley Park and through much of the city. This shot was taken from the Stanley Park seawall.

A small lake in the untamed heart of Stanley Park.

Looking over False Creek toward English Bay, with Granville Island to the left.

The Raven And The First Men, by Haida artist Bill Reid, at the Museum of Anthropology.

Another exhibit at the Museum.

A small garden behind UBC's Asian Centre.

Fall colours, anyone?

The Skytrain platform at VCC-Clark station. A police officer watches as 300 revellers in fancy dress show up for a secret Halloween party on a modest Skytrain. It was the most intimate gathering I've ever attended...

After the Skytrain party, we wound our way to an outdoor after-party in the warehouse district. Here, a pirate beholds Che playing the bongo. Aar.

A few of the fantastic Vancouver gang: Nurse Ratched, Che Guevara, and Lady Christina Marmalade, with Samantha Stephens left up front to bewitch onlookers.

A giant chicken gets a ride on a unicycle atop a bicycle. Yeah.

Looking down on Vancouver from the top of Grouse Mountain. It was a gruelling climb, higher and steeper than anything in Ireland. If only we'd known about the cable car...

The journey ahead.

2007-10-24T05:58:00.001+01:00

My expedition from Vancouver to Montreal begins in less than a week. Yipes. As a rough guide, I'll be stopping in or passing by the following places:

Vancouver, BC - I'll miss it
Hell's Gate, BC - one of Canada's most renowned gorges
Lytton, BC
Ashcroft, BC - Canada's driest town
Kamloops, BC
Blue River, BC
Valemount, BC
Mount Robson, BC - the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies
Yellowhead Pass - BC/AB border
Jasper, AB - the main town of the great national park
Hinton, AB
Edson, AB
Edmonton, AB - Alberta's capital and home of the Oilers (Gretzky's old team)
Viking, AB
Wainwright, AB
Unity, SK
Biggar, SK
Saskatoon, SK - Saskatchewan's largest city
Watrous, SK
Melville, SK
Portage La Prairie, MB
Winnipeg, MB - Manitoba's capital, notorious for its extreme climate
Whiteshell Provincial Park, MB
Sioux Lookout, ON
Armstrong, ON
Longlac, ON
Hornepayne, ON
Gogama, ON
Capreol, ON
Sudbury, ON - the nickel capital of the world, with a landscape to match the title
Parry Sound, ON
Washago, ON
Toronto, ON - my much-loved home for a year
Cobourg, ON
Belleville, ON
Kingston, ON
Cornwall, ON
Montreal, QC - it's Montreal; c'est tout.

Until I set off, Vancouver and its funky inhabitants will keep me happy and busy.

Wow - Vancouver.

2007-10-22T19:48:00.000+01:00

Vancouver is the most wonderful city in the world. Except when it rains, and it's been raining ceaselessly for over six days now. I imagine a monsoon must be similar.

Despite the rain, I'm having a smashing time in Vancouver. I have some great friends here, who've been a real help. Through them, I've met a terrific bunch of locals who, among other achievements, offered me a berth on an ice hockey team. And when a Canadian invites you on to their ice hockey team, you don't say no. Truth be told, I was rubbish. But it was the most fun I've had in years. Who else in Ireland can say they've placed ice hockey? Eh? There isn't even a single rink in that country! It's a shame, because I'm really keen to keep it up. The minor cuts and bruises made it all worthwhile. Or perhaps I'm thinking of the after-match drinks...

My writing isn't especially fluent today, so it's time to resort to photos. So here are some snaps from Vancouver, the hockey, Victoria, and the Strait of Georgia.

How long does it take to cross Canada?

2007-10-10T17:49:00.000+01:00

I'll find out soon enough. Tomorrow, I fly from Atlanta to Vancouver. I have a few friends there, and I plan to enjoy their company and the city for roughly ten days. I'm looking forward to it - Vancouver has one of the finest natural settings of any major city. It's bounded by the ocean, by the Cascades mountain range, and by the giant redwood forests of British Columbia.

Once I've seen Vancouver through, it's back on the road. Or the rails. Or a combination of both, for up to 6,500 km. I'm heading at least as far as Montreal. On my route, I'll pass through the Canadian Rockies, drive up the Icefields Parkway, stop in Calgary or Edmonton, then travel across the vast prairies of Saskatchewan and Manitoba. After that, the route runs round the northern edge of Lake Superior, then through Sudbury en route to Toronto. Next stop: Montreal.

It may take me ten days to get from Vancouver to Montreal, so the bilingual city might mark the eastern limit of my travels. Even that journey is equivalent to driving from London to Moscow and back again, so there's no indignity in stopping there.

This is going to blow my previous road trips out of the biography.

Checkin' out the Villes

2007-10-02T07:34:00.000+01:00

Nashville, Crossville, Waynesville, Asheville, Knoxville. Southern America sure likes its Villes.

I'm living from day to day, and it's great. My path changes on each passing whim. After Asheville, Charleston was superseded by Knoxville. I'm spending a fair share of time in the Villes. The people are friendly and the hostels are great - quite dissimilar to the institutions one finds in big cities. Here, staying in a hostel is more like sharing the owner's house. I've met enough quirky characters to fill a cheap novella. The US never fails to furnish me with anecdotes.

My 2005 adventure was a triumphant trip, fuelled by adrenaline, naivete and a healthy curiosity. This autumn's ramblings are different. I still have the curiosity, but my stores of the other two commodities have dwindled. There's still something in those tanks, but less than I held before I blew my stock on foreign entanglements. I'm very tired. I spend much of my days wandering rather than eating up the tourist sights. The Villes are good for that. The slow solitude is refreshing for body and mind. I socialise when I want and slip away when I want; such freedom from pressures is the gift of confidence. I've enjoyed many a great night, but I fear not to eschew the beers on the porch.

I certainly couldn't travel forever, but the freedom is bliss. All people should know it, but few do, so I count myself fortunate.

P.S. The live music is wonderful down here.

P.P.S. A glut of used bookstores mean that I'm reading a lot. A lot.

Rural Tennessee and North Carolina

2007-09-24T20:02:00.000+01:00

I've been in the States almost a week now. Already, I've worked my way from Nashville through central and southeastern Tennessee, northern Georgia, and western North Carolina. Currently, I'm staying in Chattanooga, Tennessee. It's ridiculously hot for this time of year: the temperature is still in the high thirties. Tomorrow, I leave for Asheville, North Carolina, an artsy enclave in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It ought to be an excellent base for hiking. My weekend shall be spent on the Atlantic coast, in the old city of Charleston, South Carolina. From there, things are open-ended.

Here are some photos from a week in the beautiful wilderness:

Fall Creek Falls in central Tennessee. Although the river flow is weak due to drought, this is the highest waterfall east of the Rockies.

This king snake had to be dodged on one forest trail.

Why does Jesus need a thrift store?

North Carolina...

Outside a flea market in the boonies. I had to be cautious about photographing inside.

Looking across the Smoky Mountains.

A mile-high mountain pass in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Nothing in Britain or Ireland even approaches this altitude.

The view from a mile high.

The hills of northern Georgia.

Farewell Toronto.

2007-09-17T08:10:00.000+01:00

In twelve hours, off to the States I go. I'm looking forward to a three-week adventure in Ol' Dixie. Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia and Florida had best beware. There's a hurricane coming. (It was on the news...)

I'll miss you Toronto; it's been an unforgettable year. Now for the great blue sky and the open road.

And it all comes down to this...

2007-09-10T01:00:00.000+01:00

If we separate, so we end with one last kiss, to celebrate, like a cold December, that you always remember.

I have just over a week left in Toronto. The end, sadly, is nigh. My friends, my heart and home... all shall return to the ether.

I can't wait to see my friends and family back in Ireland; it's been far too long. A two week visit would never have been enough. And yet... I'm very unhappy to be leaving Toronto. As I've said before, this city has embraced me, and I it; for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. This is the place for me, not Dublin (despite its gruff charm), and certainly not priggish Trinity. Perhaps I'll be back. Next autumn, I intend to be in grad school, and I will apply to universities in both Canada and Britain.

Luckily, I have two months of unbounded fun left until I return to Ireland. The Film Festival still has six days left to run; what I've seen already has been outstanding. On the 17th, I fly to Nashville. Everything after that is open-ended. I will spend at least a week in eastern Tennessee with my uncle and his family, and further explore the South from there. In early October, I'll head all the way to Vancouver to reunite with friends and sample Western Canada. I may adventure into the Rockies, depending on my budget and energy level. At some point, I'll return to Toronto, which I'll use as a base to explore Quebec and the rest of Ontario. Once my budget and stamina run down (in early November?), it'll be time to bid my final goodbyes. Dublin's clammy embrace awaits.

Like my heart, my accent has acquired a definite Canadian hue and rhythm. It's also become a lot clearer. People find it increasingly difficult to guess my origin. On his recent visit, my brother was surprised at how much my speech had evolved. The difference between us was pronounced. I like my new melange of an accent - it's cosmopolitan but not mid-Atlantic. I wonder how well it'll go down in Dublin...?

Last day at work.

2007-09-09T17:58:00.001+01:00

Mmm, last Friday... what a feeling! Now to enjoy the Film Festival.

A newsletter, not a blog post.

2007-08-01T04:54:00.000+01:00

How to report on the last few weeks? They’ve brought their share of rough and tumble. I’ve enjoyed a clutch of new experiences, new emotions, new tastes, and new troubles. If learning consists of dealing with unforeseen challenges and stepping across your own boundaries, then I’ve had a year of schooling in July. Never mind the last few weeks – for how much can I write publicly?! Just let me ramble.

I stare across the ocean with a mix of disbelief, schadenfreude, and sympathy. Unbroken weeks of rain have plagued my native islands. Although not a catastrophe, millions of spirits must be as sodden and bleached as the ruined homes. The Canadian winter is forbidding; heart and soul tire and succumb to frostbite by mid-February. Yet I’d take a bleak winter over a miserable summer in any trade. Who doesn’t taste misery in mid-winter? What choice – between a mildewed spirit and a frozen one! Don’t tell me a winter free of rain – it’s too frigid – doesn’t tempt you. That’s not to mention a steamy, sticky summer where the sun sears at twice the intensity you’ll ever find in Dublin. OK – sticky isn’t much fun. But this sun is a wonder! I ought to strip off my shirt of sweat and prostrate myself to Ra on the baking concrete: to Ra, bringer of my first true summer.

Chances are I’ll be stopping by Dublin in early November. I don’t know yet whether my stay will be two weeks or several months. At the moment, the probabilities lean toward the latter. Immigration is a stringent, demanding process. For a time, it appeared that my employer might sponsor me for an extended work permit, but that hope has crumbled. The management were enthusiastic about retaining me; however HR and media considerations have vetoed the idea. One of the reasons cited was a fear of media fallout from sponsoring a non-national to my position. It’s mildly understandable, but also intensely frustrating. If they were willing to employ a non-national (me) until now, then why not in three months’ time? I find it hard to imagine myself as a prize exhibit in a tabloid witch-hunt against (legal) immigrant workers. I suspect the core reasons for the rebuff are bureaucratic hiring practices and powerful union interests. Quelle surprise; such pleasures are hardly unique to Canada.

Bottom line: barring a change of corporate heart, or me finding a more willing sponsor, I’ll be kicking around Dublin until the end of next summer. Further study can be postponed no later; I intend to apply for Master’s programmes in both Britain and Canada.

I’ll have to work hard to make my next stay in Dublin a rewarding and enjoyable one. Absurd rents must be absorbed to secure a home in – or close to – the city centre. The suburban lifestyle is thoroughly unacceptable. I refuse to resign myself to lengthy commutes, and I refuse to distance myself for a second time from the friends and amenities I crave. Suburbia breaks the back of spontaneity. Culture shock will only be managed if I can sustain a lifestyle resembling the one I revel in here.

The most difficult adjustment will be alimentary. I enjoy very little of the standard Irish diet; even before my travels, it failed miserably to satisfy me. Finding samosas in Dublin will be a challenge; buying take-out samosas on impulse will be impossible. Lamentably, the city is starved of quality (or affordable) Asian cuisine. The “Chinese food” is an abomination. The sushi is marginally better, but not even on a par with the hole-in-the-wall seven doors down. Maybe there’s one good Indian restaurant? Is there even a single Korean barbecue? Good European food is available, but only at a painful premium. You can forget authentic Mexican. The bagels are horrendous. Dublin’s new-found wealth and influx of immigrants can only improve its culinary landscape, but, as it stands, the food is one of the biggest black marks against the city. Its mid-priced restaurants offer very poor value. I just hope I can find enough avocados in the supermarkets…

Yes, Toronto has spoiled me. How could it not have? I live in one of North America’s top food cities. For Asian food especially, it’s world-class. A city with six Chinatowns knows what it’s cooking! I can’t apply the same standards to Dublin, but still…

In leaving Ireland, I had to answer certain questions. How would I adapt to a foreign culture? How would I build an entirely new social network? How would I cope in my darkest days and weeks, alienated from my closest, most trusted friends and family? How would I live in the absence of the familiar? I've been delighted and impressed by the answers so far. But one can never rest on past glories.

Should I return to the Not-So-Fair City, I'll face a new set of challenges. How will I acclimatise to a city and culture I’m jaded with, and at best ambiguous about? How many old friendships will still flourish? How will I deal with being dragged back into the age-old, same old circles and dramas of family life? Can Dublin come to feel like home, in a way that it never truly did before? How will I manage my own resentment and discontent at being forced to leave a place I felt at home in? I wonder how I’ll react to being separated from some people here. Young friendships are the most delightful of all, and the most delicate.

The coming fortnight should be quiet enough. My final five weeks, by contrast, will be intensely busy. I’m expecting two visitors: my brother and a good friend from college. When not entertaining my guests, I hope to take two fun trips. The contenders are: Montreal, the Shakespeare-centred Stratford Festival, the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake, and an adventure into the wilds of Algonquin Park (which would cover more than half of Northern Ireland). The last ten days of my visa shall be spent in the company of friends, attending to affairs, and enjoying the film festival.

On September 17, my visa expires; I leave that day for the United States. Two to three leisurely weeks there shall precede my return to Canada, this time on a tourist visa. I’ve allowed four to six weeks to travel across the country, from the Pacific Rim to the eastern tip of Newfoundland. Vancouver will be my starting point; I have a number of friends there right now. After a short side trip to Victoria, the natural wonders of the Canadian Rockies await. Banff National Park and Lake Louise promise genuine spectacle, and my first skydive promises to thrill. En route to Quebec and the east coast, I’ll then glide across the vast expanse of the prairie provinces. Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Newfoundland are being drafted into the final chapter of this Canadian adventure.

Some time in November, my feet will once again touch damp Irish soil, after fourteen months away. If I’m lucky in my visa efforts, it will only be a visit – the prelude to a new, long-lasting relationship with Canada. If not, well, I’ll make the best of Dublin for nine months. I’d love to introduce regular brunches to my Irish friends; now that would be a treat…

Musing on a Saturday night... a quiet Saturday night.

2007-07-08T06:26:00.000+01:00

I'm enjoying my first "quiet" week in Canada. After the Canada Day shebang, I decided that I needed to take a three week break from marathons, binges, all-nighters and other madness. My energy levels and bank balance were feeling the pain of three months' solid fun. Six days in, and I'm loving it. I still meet up with friends some evenings, but alcohol, bars and clubs aren't part of my agenda. Iced coffees, crepes, movies, festivals, and used bookstores pass the time just as enjoyably. Imagine - I live in a city where I can browse a dozen used bookstores until midnight!

I'm beginning to reflect on my time here, and on my own evolution. What's most striking is that I'm fundamentally the same. No one in Dublin will fail to recognise me. My behaviour, beliefs and attitudes are quite similar to what they were 10 months ago. In any given 10 months at uni, they were much more variable. My personality has settled, and I'm very secure with it.

What has changed is not the skeleton, but the flesh. I'm now confident, astute and experienced. Such qualities weren't always in abundance, either personally, socially or professionally. (On the flip-side, those flaws that still persist are, I suspect, most likely ingrained.) So while no one will fail to recognise me, they will notice how much older I seem. My actual maturity has caught up with my apparent maturity. For many years, I came across as more mature than I actually was. People mistook my intellectual maturity for emotional maturity, and were eventually disappointed when the mask slipped. That wasn't a fault of mine: it's the lot of smart young things.

I like being in balance: it's more comfortable for me, and I'm not selling anyone a pup. As an added bonus, I can now date older women without making a complete hash of it. I now mark 22 to 27 as the age range I'm most adept in; it tails off either side. That applies in friendship as well as in modern romance. Know your own limits and weaknesses - but be confident. Sure, I'm imperfect, but Canada has taught me one truly great lesson: that I'm a damn fine catch! ;)

A response.

2007-06-12T04:58:00.000+01:00

I've had several e-mails in response to my last post; it attracted more comment than anything I've ever posted, from friends and strangers alike. It's always good to provoke, stimulate and get feedback. Especially heartening were the three e-mails empathising with my current feelings - from fellow travellers, nonetheless. I'm still working on replies to everyone who wrote; fear not, I'll get around to each of you!

Until then, I've decided to post to my blog one of the responses I composed today. I've edited it slightly, of course, but I think it sheds some light and expands upon the more impressionist piece I wrote last week. I stand by my earlier post; it reads exactly as I intended.

I'm delighted you cast a critical eye! I've had more e-mails regarding that post than anything I've written in a long time; I'm quite heartened by it. Remember that my blog is a snapshot of my mood; it's meant to be impressionist. There are many places, things and atmospheres I miss about Dublin. For instance, nothing here can match Howth Head, or the coast between Sandymount and Killiney. Yet while I'm aware of those charms, they resonate so very weakly this June.

The emigrant's, exile's, or ex-pat's relationship with his hometown will always be ambivalent. The relationship ends (or pauses) not with great enthusiasm, but with mixed feelings. Certainly, a new home can be embraced with gusto, but one's decision to leave is never whole-hearted.

"When I die, Dublin will be written in my heart." - James Joyce

I hear Joyce's words, and indeed understand them, but he took years - decades even - to reach that point. The disdain and condescension are unwelcome, but I think it proper to record them. Are they consequences of a new attachment? Perhaps. (No wonder English still grants gender to cities and countries.) What happens when the foreign grass is greener? I've felt comfortable here for many months, but I never expected to call it 'home' so soon. I shall soon test how ephemeral that word is. I want to document this emotional journey. I'm trying to tease out how this happened - how these bonds form and affect older ones. In early spring, I would have been content, though not joyful, to return for a year. Now the prospect appals me.

My emotions are going to swing back and forth over this one. Yet I refuse to be the prodigal son who, on his return, sours every relationship with constant moaning and bleating. I'd rather get a lot of this out of my system now. Dublin's faults are clearer than ever, and all the better. If I did return with rosy glasses, they'd smog up fairly fast; I'd endure a very bleak winter. Some of those faults, I fear, are incorrigible, but others are not. Like any critical eye looking back, I have solutions. And why can't I apply one? I need a dose of entrepreneurial spirit, some venture capital, the right contacts, and faith in De Peepel. Ho hum.

Like New York, Dublin's rudeness is coupled to a gruff friendliness. The sketches in Different Class are a fine portrait of teenage life on the Northside, and indeed, many a young adult's life as well. Again, it's a personal impression: I see by my mirror, not through a camera. Sure, the same experience could be had in many cities, but I had it in Dublin. And the northern English industrial city? I speak not of the architecture, but of the people. We all know Dublin largely skipped the age of heavy industry. But it is, in many ways, an English city, and a very English culture. The links are not with London and the Home Counties, but with the working-class culture of northern England, oft treated as provincial and backward by their southern elite. Certainly, the old Irish middle-class aspires to the southern English example. (O, D4 - and the university town.) Yet our modern middle-class are upwardly mobile - they share the same roots we do. We're the last of the old culture, my friend. The Lock-Out shaped it more than the Rising ever could have. The kids flowing into our colleges know only the Celtic Tiger; those excluded are more adrift and disaffected than ever. In the decades ahead, those bonds with northern England may sunder. But not yet.

I've had three replies from fellow travellers; two are back in Ireland, while one is still on the road. All three have passed through the same stages of contempt for our home country. One is uneasily reconciled, the second fermenting, and the third black with bile. My emotions aren't unique, and that warms me. Dublin is not and will not be London or New York, a hub of anglophone culture. That's not an indictment: none of Manchester, Melbourne, Toronto or Cleveland stack up to those two - but they each contribute richly. What infuriates me - and fuels the irrational loathing - is the pissed-away potential. Dublin could be so much more, and I speak as much of the people as the structures; they hold one another down. I won't stay contemptuous, but I'll always be ambivalent. That is my lot - our lot - in the diaspora. I think it's a feeling worth telling.

More thoughts, anyone?

At home, away.

2007-06-04T03:51:00.000+01:00

Thirty degrees - another steamy evening. Patios swing, shirts cling; Magnums melt as connections spark. Midweek weekends tumble blur; a confident Celtic spirit fused to a party-hard Berliner cavorts through clubs and jazz bars, pubs and indie dives, charming his way into homes, cellars, and wind-whistling holes-in-the-wall. Memories fuzz, face-off, escape; I'm oft confused but rarely cheated. Summer is a-bloom.

On occasion, I feel like a fresh J-1 kid running wild and tripsy on a beachfront strip, awed and suckered by New World hedonism. Those moments tickle me, as only then do I feel abroad - almost on holiday. The lust to travel burns strongly within, but for the first time, I yearn for stability. What those moments tell me is that I now feel at home. Toronto is home. I'm in my skin, my element. Neither pangs for missing friends and family nor nipping nostalgia at old songs shake that feeling.

'Twould be bliss if the home-shackled clans were here. As for Dublin: I grow more patronising, condescending and disdainful by the day. It's a sorry thing to say, as there are far worse places to live. Yet I can't help but compare it unfavourably in almost every way to Toronto. When next I visit (or return), the rudeness will grate and the infrastructure enrage. I feel nausea at the thought of the limited local food, but more so for my next rendezvous with disaffected Celtic ultras. It's nice to live in a safe city. The less said about the moribund music scene, absent arts and one-dimensional nightlife the better. Dublin life was very Different Class (if you haven't heard that Pulp album, you really ought to), which isn't the greatest compliment. Despite its inescapable Irishness and the crushing anvil of history, my rear-view mirror shows a Northern English industrial city doubling as a university town. Am I too harsh?

The temper of Toronto sits easily with me: liberal, accepting, unfailingly polite, relatively intellectual, and slightly reserved - yet eager to meet new friends. Although still reserved, moving here has encouraged my extroverted side to flourish. Strange to think that Thursday, when a friend was picking apart my character, the second label she thought of was "overly social". What a change, eh? (The first was "meth addict". It was a joke... really.) I enjoy organising events and connecting people; it's no use being passive all the time, dependent on your friends' initiatives.

Last Thursday, I ventured along to an official company "pub night". It was a little too corporate for me, as most of the attendees were management and senior staff. We few temps huddled together too much. Afterwards, I met some Canadian friends at a bar near Yonge and Eg, to see (and drink with) a local band they knew. A decent night was had. Late in the night, I heard Northern Irish voices to my right - a group of expats were celebrating a birthday. I suspect they were permanent immigrants: the Canadian influence on their accents was pronounced. Unusually for me, I opted for caution, and didn't let my Irish accent flow near them. I knew that if I started chatting, I'd be out all night. That's happened too often...

Friday, I put together the usual after-work drinks on an Esplanade patio. We finished fairly early, catching part of an international percussion festival en route to the subway. The evening was notable mainly for my first taste of poutine. Mmm. Though I'm sure the Quebec version is superior, what I had was delicious. It was made-to-order in the kitchen, unlike the nasty-looking stuff they serve in Toronto food courts. Thoughts of dinner faded after a hot pan of the greasy cheesy delight. (But if I ate poutine too often, I'd need new arteries.)

Saturday, I brought a friend over, and showed her how to prepare and cook a delicious salmon dinner, bookended by bruschetta and Haagen-Dazs ice-cream bars. Cooking is fun when it's for more than one! Later, I cheered the Ottawa Senators on to a critical victory in Game 3 of the Stanley Cup finals, before we went out to meet friends for another mad night on the town. (Another great thing about Toronto: I didn't arrive at the bar until after midnight.)

Sunday was calm and relaxing. Over the coming week, I intend to take full advantage of two major arts festivals: Luminato and North by Northeast. At minimum, I'll be seeing Gore Vidal on Wednesday, and attending a crazy cabaret/burlesque/circus on Sunday. I hope to visit a few galleries and exhibitions during the week, as well as catching some gigs and films next weekend. Hurrah for major-city life!

20 reasons to trigger the alarm bells.

2007-05-22T23:24:00.000+01:00

You know you've been in Canada too long when...

You say 'eh' after every sentence.
You expect your groceries to be in both French and English, just in case.
You find yourself calling America "The States".
You call a beanie a tuque and wear it as a fashion statement.
You step in front of moving cars without anxiety.
You trust taxi drivers.
Hockey matters.
You slap down anyone from the homeland who moans about the "cold" weather they're having.
If you find a -2 C day in January, you leave the coat at home and tear open your shirt.
You throw snowballs and play beach volleyball in the same month.
You host a backyard barbecue with a foot of snow on the ground.
You prefer to buy your milk in plastic bags - it tastes better.
You find yourself looking for the latest fashion in snowsuits.
You go to the beach...at a lake!
You put maple syrup on bacon, sausage, French toast, and baked beans, but not on ice-cream.
You drink as many lattes as you would back home, but twice as much black coffee.
You're perfectly clear on the distinction between breakfast, brunch and lunch; it follows that you'll accept no substitute for brunch.
You find yourself craving Tim Horton's doughnuts, which aren't actually that good.
You mercilessly mock weak American beer.
You sincerely apologise when somebody runs into you.

Anything to add?

P.S. Yes, you can credit me with composing two-thirds of these. Six were stolen.

Making good use of a sick day.

2007-05-10T18:07:00.000+01:00

Afternoon all. Yes, I'm still alive and kicking - so much so that I haven't posted in close to a month. Life is hectic, social and fun. However, I've had to take a sick day, due to a shredded throat and a very sore left cheek. No, I wasn't at the tequila and tabasco last evening; that was a one-time-only horror. 'Tis probably a wee bug of some sort. Despite my headache, the day off is being put to good uses, such as cleaning, blogging and sunbathing.

Returning from the snow-slurried village, I fell into another round of meeting new people. It's been the boon of the spring; I've acquired nearly a dozen more accomplices, explored new districts (and bars), and delved deeper into Toronto's multiform music scene. After several false starts, I made it to a pro hockey match; 'twas a spectacle to shame dreary baseball. True to hockey tradition, the game had to be stopped after five seconds due to a brawl.

On the 19th, my first visitors arrived: my mother and aunt flew in from Ireland. They spent ten days in Canada, taking a break in Montreal midway through their stay. It was great to see my mother in particular. You appreciate someone a lot more when you don't see them day in, day out. I tried to show them as much of Toronto as possible, and was aided by a sudden heatwave. On the day of their arrival, winter weather was finally beaten out of Toronto; it hasn't dared show itself since. The timing was perfect.

The warm weather and warming circumstances have stirred my soul; I'm really enjoying myself now after a bleak end to winter. Onward and upward - yet never forgetful of that mid-September deadline. If I must depart for duller climes, I'll leave in style, my case jammed with the best memories of my life. A grand tour of the US and Canada is on the cards once my work permit expires. Money permitting, my final flourish will be an autumn trip to the Arctic; the Northern Lights await.

Sometimes it snows in April.

2007-04-11T05:39:00.000+01:00

Wow. I've really fallen behind with the blog in recent weeks. I also have eighteen emails that need replies. (Shakes head.) Life here is hectic, and is only going to get busier. Keeping in touch with my friends and family gets harder each week.

I promise to respond to comments and write a detailed update Wednesday or Thursday. Until then, a batch of photos from last weekend should tide you over. The village I was staying in got whacked by a metre of snow; it was fantastic. Nothing brings out your inner child like chubby snowsuits and towering drifts you could lose yourself in.

I might have missed out on a white Christmas, but only in Canada could I find a (blinding) white Easter.

Travel time.

2007-03-23T03:45:00.000Z

Here's a very short update to tide you over until next week. The last two weeks have been busy, filled alternately with major stresses and great fun. However, I'll be getting away from it all in several hours! I'm taking a long weekend in Boston. A few days apart from Toronto should do me the world of good. This may sound strange, but I can't wait to see the sea. It's been too long since I felt a cool salty breeze on my face. Lake Ontario is massive, but it's not the same as open sea. I shall update you all when I return!

Will the Irish accent (tinted with Canadian) prove a hit, I wonder?

Rising from the dead... of winter.

2007-03-05T22:00:00.000Z

The Canadian winter is finally beginning to wind down. A tough ice storm last week and a fearsome cold snap lasting till Friday should be its last angry death rattles. I have visitors coming in late April, and I was checking up the temperature range they can expect. It's pretty broad - almost guaranteed to offer lows below zero and highs in the mid to upper twenties within ten days. That is to say, Ireland's entire temperature variance will be contained within that week and a half. I can't believe it - the high twenties are only six weeks away! Considering how cold it is tonight, you can understand that it's tough to imagine.

April 19 - April 29
2006 = max: 22.7 °C; min: -1.6 °C
2005 = max: 27.5 °C; min: 0.2 °C
2004 = max: 25 °C; min: -2.9 °C
2003 = max: 18.4 °C; min: -1.5 °C
2002 = max: 23.5 °C; min: -1.7 °C
2001 = max: 27.2 °C; min: -3.8 °C

The decline of winter has coupled with another significant change to lift a weight from my shoulders, leaving me ready to rock out once again! I've decided to postpone further study until September 2008. I've been stressed for the past month, trying to acquire references, write up sample papers and personal statements, and complete the applications. Enough, I say. A dull job in the twilight zone, application stress, severe cold and a lack of sunlight were burdening me, almost rendering me homesick. However, stress isn't the reason I've postponed.

I can't imagine myself sitting down to hard study in just six months, directly after my Canadian stay. An expensive Masters degree requires a month or two of solid preparation, which is something I'll be unable to give. Furthermore, I don't want to set up in a new country so quickly. I'd prefer to either stay here or return to Dublin for a few months at least. I have friends and networks in both locations, and I'd rather keep and develop those for the immediate future. Moving and establishing oneself is an exhilarating challenge, but it's also difficult and stressful.

Anyway. Back to surviving tonight. Since this will be the last (and coldest) blast of winter, I thought I'd venture down to the main bins with the rubbish - without a tuque or gloves and wearing only a shirt. It's only two minutes there and back! I gave up before I'd taken three steps downwards. The temperature has spiralled down throughout the day. Tomorrow morning will be the coldest of the entire winter: -22 with a wind chill of -35. Even in my improvised burqa, I'm going to be risking frostbite out there. So yeah, I'm a flimsy spineless chicken for not going out semi-naked in that. :)

Storm photos.

2007-03-05T21:16:00.000Z

These photos of last week's snow and ice storm aren't exactly revelatory. The reason is that for most of the winter, it's too cold to take your gloves off to manipulate a camera. It's only half a minute, you say? Ah, but I've learned something about gloves. Gloves maintain your fingers at the temperature they were at before they were inserted. The temperature rises only very slowly inside. 30 or 40 seconds of -10 or below temperatures makes your fingers rigid and numb. So, even once they're back inside the gloves, they're still frozen. All that being said, I made a couple of attempts. :)

You can't take breathtaking pictures of an ice storm, as the falling precipitation looks just like rain. That's because it is supercooled rain, freezing immediately on impact. I managed to get two decent snaps of the blizzard. The photos I took from my office window, alas, were ruined by the thick glass. I've also uploaded a shot or two of the snowy, icy, slushy aftermath. 'Twasn't fun to walk on; thicker snow alone was much easier.

It might not have closed down the city...

2007-02-15T04:29:00.000Z

But I was like a kid in a candy shop when I set off to work this morning during the snowstorm.

Plans to make a snow angel in the back yard this evening were abandoned when the temperature fell below minus thirty. My improvised burqa will be making another appearance in time for tomorrow's trek to the subway.

Stan the Man.

2007-02-09T04:38:00.000Z

I have nothing to say about the fetid Irish display away to San Marino; however, it offends my sense of sporting justice that the wastrels escaped with a last-second victory. If Steve Staunton's "performance" as De Gaffa (translation: manager) doesn't convince you that he should be shown the tradesman's exit, then perhaps this picture of Stan's extra-curricular high jinks will.

Not enough? Then let me point out that the side which frustrated Stan's Army contains one professional player and is ranked 194th in the world, below such luminaries as Macau, Vanuatu, the Turks and Caicos Islands, New Caledonia, the Netherlands Antilles, St. Lucia, the Cayman Islands and the British Virgin Islands. Oh, and as a tart illustration, Tahiti ranks a full 21 places higher.

Remember: "San Marino are going to be a handful as the group goes on."

Long time no blog.

2007-02-02T05:37:00.000Z

It's been a couple of weeks since I found the time to jot down a new blog entry. The problem is that I can't write at length here about the most significant things in my life right now. I was at Purplelectricity last Saturday - a Prince-themed club night in the Drake. We had a fantastic time; perhaps I'll write at length about it once I have some photos to steal and post here. Also, we're throwing a house party in the apartment in just over a week. I'm going to make up some tapas-like dishes to go with the wine and chit-chat. Tasters for my weekend to come: Friday brings after-work drinks and a relatively early night; I've organised yet another fun date with the gorgeous Canadian girl to fill Saturday; Sunday brings Six Nations rugby (probably in Scallywags) and a Superbowl party (we're really only watching to see Prince's half-time show). On a more fun note, somewhere in there I'll have to finish off the essay/personal statement for my grad school applications. Having been out of university for eight months now, it's proving difficult.

I had intended to visit Ottawa for the last weekend of the Winterlude festival and skate on the Rideau canal. However, I've gone off the idea and have decided to scrap it. Firstly, no one else wanted to or was available to come along, which was a blow. Skating for five miles in the bitter cold isn't as fun or as romantic when it's done alone. Secondly, it's been bloody freezing here in Toronto for over three weeks straight now. When I decided to go to Ottawa, I was excited about going to an even colder city, as hardcore winter hadn't struck here yet. Having endured nearly a month of temperatures ranging between -5 and -20 (with wind chills running from -15 down to -30), I find myself less keen than ever on taking a winter break in an even colder climate. Finally, I have good reasons to stay here. It's the Chinese New Year on the very weekend I'd planned to go, and I expect that to be pretty special in Toronto. Also, I've been given the opportunity to go snow-tubing in Barrie that Sunday. Why pass these chances up, eh?

P.S. Thanks for all the comments - I'll answer them once I've slept!

A superior wine guide (updated).

2007-02-02T00:24:00.000Z

(27 October, 2006) Fear not; I'm no more pretentious than I was yesterday. Maybe more petit bourgeois, but let's pass over that for now. I've had a fantastic day, which I'll hopefully have the time to explain in a subsequent post. This evening, partly in celebration, I visited the LCBO in Summerhill to pick up some wine. From this time forward, as far as is practicable, I'm going to rate every wine I drink. I shan't be gauging the bouquet or any such nonsense. Instead, I'm going to give a number and maybe a line or two. It's for the benefit of my memory and little else. 'Twill be a handy guide for future purchases!

I haven't opened any of my new bottles yet, but I'll list them here and rate them once I drink. Whenever that is... the icewine, for instance, merits a special occasion.

---------UPDATED---------
(1 February, 2007)

Torbreck Shiraz Barossa Valley Woodcutter's 2005 (Australia)
9/10 This was one of the finest red wines I've ever tasted, and by some distance the best Shiraz. Good body, yet soft and fruity. A bargain and a half.
Torres Santa Digna Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 Reserve (Chile)
5/10 I was disappointed by this. I'm getting tired of Chilean wine in general; the dryness is beginning to grate. This bottle wasn't terrible, but it was stubbornly mediocre.
Inniskillin Ice Wine Vidal 2004 (Ontario)
Unopened. This is being saved for a magical moment, as icewine is insanely expensive.
Hillebrand Artist Series Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 (Ontario)
7/10 I picked this up in an emergency, and was pleasantly surprised. A very drinkable wine; I'm learning that Ontario wines can be good value in the sub-$15 market.
Wolf Blass Yellow Label Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 (Australia)
6.5/10 Reliable and drinkable. Still, I shan't be bothering in future; Ontario wines represent much better value if I'm looking for a reliable wine, while superior French and Italian vintages can be found at this price point.
Louis Jadot "Combe Aux Jacques" Beaujolais-Villages 2005 (France)
Unopened. I might share this popular Beaujolais at the weekend.
Chateau de Gourgazaud Minervois Rouge Cuvee Mathilde 2004 (France)
Unopened. This was a great price for a well-regarded French wine. I might taste it at our upcoming house party.
Masi Serego Alighieri Possessioni Rosso 2004 (Italy)
Unopened.

A dangerous shopfront.

2007-01-19T04:30:00.000Z

I was walking along Spadina this evening, between Kensington Market and Chinatown, when I noticed a store with a striking name. I don't think it'd go down too well in Ireland or Britain; on the other hand, it would have made a bomb in Northern Ireland not so long ago.

Daft games.

2007-01-15T05:45:00.000Z

Tip: don't invite me to play in your party games. Oh, I'm a fun competitor, but I have a dangerous tendency to... win. On New Year's Day, I took honours in the Game of Life (though my hectic lifestyle meant that I was impotent while the others were still making hay). This afternoon, I secured a crushing victory in my first game of Fuzzy Bunny.

Fuzzy Bunny eh? Bear with me. Fuzzy Bunny is a daft but fun game, albeit one carrying a tiny risk of choking. We four (the three roomies plus one date) played while sober (though I was fresh/stale from my bed), averting that particular danger. All the game requires is a bag of marshmallows. We happened to use large marshmallows, but the size is irrelevant. Each player attempts to fit, one by one, as many marshmallows as possible in their mouth without swallowing or chewing. "Fuzzy Bunny" has to be said (how it actually sounds is irrelevant) after each marshmallow in order for it to count. I somehow squeezed seven large marshmallows in, muttered "phummhghfihppdhth!" through the sticky mass, did a victory dance, and ran to spit the suffocating gank out.

The twenty dollar reward was a fine salad to the ego boost.

Man of letters, or hassled typist?

2007-01-08T00:02:00.000Z

We don't have a land line in our apartment here. This saves a bit of money, as you might imagine! Still, it means that if I want to make an international call, I have to traipse to a phone-box (normally underground at this time of year) and use prepaid calling cards. No one from home is able to call me - I incur all the expenses. I can chat with a few people on Skype, but the majority of my friends and family reside in Skypeless land.

Yet I've just realised an advantage to my inaccessibility: I control all communication. Never am I surprised by a phone call - I only need talk when I'm in the mood. I understand now why some holdouts still resist the call of the mobile phone. In the same way that we suffer information overloads, we can suffer communication burnouts. At the beginning of the holidays, I had a fearsome stack of emails to respond to. I've worked through a few, but I decided to resolve the majority through an old-fashioned phone call. I like to talk to my friends and family - but sometimes I need to do it at my own pace.

There's something to be said for the days of letter-writing. I treat my emails like letters; I put a lot of thought into them, usually drafting lengthy ones. Of course, this can lead to long delays, but sanity and care in drafting is are more important than speed. (I used to draft my blog posts too, in more carefree days!) The worst aspect of modern communication is its urgency. We've grown accustomed to instant answers, and frequently get frustrated when they aren't forthcoming.

Yet despite my musings above, it's been great talking to so many of les Irlandais over the last couple of weeks. While I'm not homesick, I do miss a lot of great people. Fed by my bright Canadian spirit, I even messaged a few people I'd lost touch with. Some due to fallouts, others from mere drifting apart. It worked in a couple of cases, which was pleasing. As for the rest, "whatever!" is the appropriate Canadian reaction!

The most fun you can have with extra clothes on.

2007-01-04T00:59:00.000Z

Ice-skating after work on Nathan Phillips Square:

Hopefully I'll get to skate on the Rideau Canal in Ottawa.

There's no such thing as global warming.

2006-12-29T05:21:00.000Z

From the National Climatic Data Center in the US:

The global annual temperature for combined land and ocean surfaces is expected to be sixth warmest on record for 2006. Some of the largest and most widespread warm anomalies occurred in southern Asia and North America. Canada experienced its warmest winter and warmest spring since its national records began in 1948.

Including 2006, six of the seven warmest years on record have occurred since 2001 and the ten warmest years have occurred since 1995. The global average surface temperature has risen between 0.6°C and 0.7°C since the start of the 20th Century, and the rate of increase since 1976 has been approximately three times faster than the century-scale trend.

The extent of Arctic sea ice was second lowest on record in September, when annual sea ice extent is at its lowest point of the year. This was only slightly higher than the record low extent measured in 2005. According to the National Snow and Ice Data Center, this is part of a continuing trend in end-of-summer Arctic sea ice extent reductions of approximately eight percent per decade since 1979, when recordkeeping began.

Remember folks: there's no evidence. It's all speculation. A scam. Let's leave those "energy efficiency standards" till we actually need them, eh?

What's the word I'm looking for?

2006-12-28T04:51:00.000Z

Irony? Sarcasm? Satire? Farce? Propaganda?
ThefetidoutpouringsofanequallydeludedbutlesscogentRushLimbaugh?
I think I'll take a bullshit, with a heavy dressing of adjectives.

Ten observations and points.

2006-12-24T04:54:00.000Z

I now eat chips (fries) with mayonnaise. It always sounded ghastly, but really it tastes great.
I buy my milk in plastic bags. Though I may have mentioned it before, it's worth repeating.
You haven't lived till you've heard a gentleman grumbling about his overdue plumber in the following terms: "I'm going to give him a good rogering when he gets here."
Canadian beers are superior to US beers. That's not to say that the States doesn't produce some excellent beers, particularly microbrews. However, they're less widely distributed than their Canadian equivalents. The corollary is that the average Canadian bar stocks a wider and superior selection to the average US waterhole. Among the mid-size brands, I find that Sleeman's Honey Brown and Rickard's Red are quite excellent. Astoundingly, I have seen the odd sozzled soul clutching a Budweiser. Thankfully, such people are rare - much rarer than their Irish counterparts.
There's no such thing as a good corporate Christmas party. Entertainment is scarce at these non-alcoholic functions. Must be a Canadian thing. Or is just Toronto?
In Ireland, they drop a bit of salt and grit on icy roads. Here, the roads and footpaths are lavished with salt. Big, giant pebble-sized chunks of salt which wreck the shoes. It says something about the climate when my local grocer stacks 10 kg bags of salt under his awning. At $4.99, a veritable bargain.
Neck collars are itchy buggers.
My minor injury has led me to a disturbing discovery: this website.
Eighty percent of the time, my wit translates well. The other twenty percent has resulted in both hilarious and horrendous situations. One need not avoid irony here; however, it must be used selectively and cautiously. Bear the audience in mind. My David Brent sketch at the office was a notable disaster.
I'm off for Christmas. The coming week promises to be special, both up north and in Toronto. Have a good one folks!

Off for the holidays.

2006-12-22T05:27:00.000Z

Just a quick update - I won't have internet access from Saturday until Thursday, and I'm not sure whether I'll get a chance to write another post before then. I'm going back with one of my housemates to her family home. She hails from a small village near Owen Sound, on the shore of Lake Superior. Spending Christmas with a real rural Canadian family, hundreds of miles from the city, promises to be another adventure (and bundle of anecdotes). It lies directly on a major snow squall belt, so despite the ridiculously mild weather, I hold out hope of seeing at least a few flurries, if not a real white Christmas.

I'll need to bring a book or two along. Decisions, decisions...

Fyodor Dostoevsky - The Brothers Karamazov
Edward Said & Christopher Hitchens - Blaming the Victims
Richard Parker - John Kenneth Galbraith: His Life, His Politics, His Economics
John English - Citizen of the World: The Life of Pierre Elliott Trudeau (Vol. 1)
Albert Camus - The Plague, The Fall, Exile and the Kingdom, and Selected Essays
Thomas Pakenham - The Scramble for Africa
Virginia Woolf - Selected Works

I think I'll take one of the biographies (either of the two Canadians: Trudeau or Galbraith) and maybe my dog-eared copy of P.J. O'Rourke's Holidays in Hell. Always good for a light read.

In case I don't get around to writing in the immediate future, I wish you all a merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Winter Festival, New Year's, and so forth. :)

The parade of goodbyes.

2006-12-18T02:44:00.000Z

In the beginning, when I arrived in Toronto, I met five people. From them, most of my early adventures and networks arose. I'm not sure how I would have managed without them. Alas, the easy life never lasts: two of them have left Toronto in the past month. A third departs on Wednesday and a fourth is moving on in January.

I saw this coming a month ago. I can't say that the prospect filled my heart with joy. To be honest, I was quite scared. While I knew what had to be done - I had to put myself out and meet more people - that is a task much easier said than done. Now, in mid-December, I'm happy to report that I've succeeded. In that time, I've overstepped my mark once or twice and made a fool of myself a little more often. It was all in the service of a good cause. I've met almost a dozen new faces, some of them quite special indeed.

Here's to the proactive, the brave and the silly - may complacency never claim them.

Of all the lame injuries.

2006-12-16T23:24:00.000Z

Last night was a thing of beauty. Had good times, sent a glass of Erdinger skeetering across a bar, and then had more good times. I arrived home in happy form and slipped smiling into bed.

This morning was a different story. When I awoke, I couldn't raise my head or turn it to the right. Any movement produced a sharp, straining pain, but the two mentioned ambitions led to stifled screams and marrow-cracking shocks into the right side of my skull. Yes, dear readers, I managed to bust my neck in my sleep. Now I wear a tight-fitting support collar and pop pills to moderate the pain. (My plans for tonight have also been moderated.)

Bah. Just in time for Christmas. :(

You never forget your first time...

2006-12-08T03:40:00.000Z

Walking home in twenty below zero.

While I had succumbed and bought a tuque to keep my head toasty, I naively wore my dress shoes (and socks) to work. Tonight's sharp wind drove the temperature down to -23. It doesn't feel quite like I'd imagined. Since most of the body is well insulated, there's no shiver. However, the exposed strip of my face felt like it was being peeled, yet peeled by the most dexterous and delicate of craftsmen: sliver by sliver. By some distance, my feet were worst affected. Those dress shoes have no insulation value, and I might as well have been standing barefoot on the frozen ground, skin turned to cold stone. I knew that I'd messed up badly once I got home and stripped off my socks. The feet weren't merely numb, but ice-cold to my fingers. To my alarm, a number of my tiptoes and small spots on my soles had gone white and hard to the touch. I ran a cool shallow bath for my feet, gradually warming the water for the next 25 minutes. Fortunately, there doesn't appear to be any lasting damage, apart from a small whitish lump on my left foot.

Hey, I'm not complaining. It's all part of the experience, and I've learned a critical lesson without too much pain. Insulate thy bloody feet! It's going to get twenty degrees colder...

The S&M crowd.

2006-12-07T05:40:00.000Z

Google sadistic lovers to see who's flying high in the rankings. This is no fleeting occurrence; I've been floating around the top of the charts for almost a year now. Also, if the grammar nerds among you can hold your noses, you can watch me go one better. Type in sadist lover and click that neglected "I'm Feeling Lucky" button. Yeah. Feeling lucky now, eh? Mmmm... it gives me a strange satisfaction to be ranked above Wikipedia's S&M entry.

These results say a lot about me...

Afternoon run.

2006-12-03T19:52:00.000Z

I awoke this morning with a slight headache and a lazy disposition. At midday, I was sprawled on the couch in the same state. It was time to get active. It was time for a run.

A glance out the window hinted at a nip in the air. The few passers-by were hidden beneath thick winter coats, their heads obscured by tuques and thick scarves. Jen thought that I'd be a little crazy to go out jogging in such cold. She thought I was even crazier when I walked out in my T-shirt and jeans. Heedless of common sense, I was eager to experience the biting cold. Sure, wouldn't it wake me up?!

The first two blocks posed no problems. I could still feel the heat emanating from my skin, though my bare arms were beginning to tingle. Turning onto the open road, the Arctic wind blasted against my face. Yet I was determined to press on, so I continued my steady pace, ignoring the sceptical stares of occasional passers-by.

Once I reached the next street corner, I knew it was time to tuck tail and run for home. The wind chill had stripped any semblance of heat from my body, and my arms were beginning to hurt. I'm honestly not sure how I managed to get home. My entire upper body felt like it was burning; the T-shirt was scant protection from the elements, while I'd lost most feeling in the exposed parts. To top it off, the headache only got worse; my brain felt like it was bouncing against my skull.

Having made it back to the toasty apartment, I downed a glass of cool water to warm my insides, and curled up on the couch for half an hour. Next time, I'll wrap up a little better. So folks, what temperature was it outside at the time? Any guesses? Oh, forget it, I'll tell you. It might not faze a Montrealer, but those of you enjoying the Gulf Stream might be impressed.

It was minus eight. :)

Happy birthday to me!

2006-11-27T05:44:00.000Z

So the day has dawned - I'm 23 years old. Into the mid-twenties with me! You know what I love most about Toronto? The fact that they held a huge fireworks display for me. 'Twas heart-warming and much appreciated. Don't believe me? Check out the photo link towards the end of the post.

It feels timely; I'm not being dragged kicking or screaming. Age might be a number, but maturity isn't. The last year to eighteen months have seen the second of those outstripping the first. With afterburners attached. I know that this is a period in life where people learn and mature quite a bit, but when I look back two years, I don't recognise that boy. Seriously. It's like I've aged five years instead of two. The process has only been accelerating: I can see a huge change since the beginning of this year. To cap it off, the last ten weeks have turned my world upside down. I don't think that kind of upheaval can be replicated, so deceleration must be in order now. I wonder if people will recognise me in a year's time? And as for the folks who hadn't seen me at all in the last six months - wow. Someone's going to get a shock. Or a delightful surprise, depending on your point of view.

Why do I feel "mature"? Someone snap me out of this, quick!

Ah, problem solved. Observe the progression of the photos from Saturday night. ;) I'd intended to go to a hockey game Sunday afternoon, but alas, I had a fearsome hangover. Guess I haven't lost my love of fun, nor occasional moments of childlike wonder. I'll drink to that.

It's no better to be safe than sorry.

2006-11-25T02:29:00.000Z

It's my birthday this coming Monday, which is bringing Dublin and my many friends and family to mind more than usual. I do wish they were here to help celebrate. I have plans, and I'll have fun, but that doesn't abate the feeling.

I heard A-Ha's Take On Me tonight, for the first time since my goodbye party in Doyle's. It is, arguably, one of the greatest pop songs ever recorded. Question: would it have sold half as much without that inspired video?

The night was drawing to a close in Doyle's, and though my feet were tired from dancing, I managed to drag the whole party down to the floor for this last hurrah. If I recall correctly, I almost burst my lungs singing along (and still I couldn't hit the high notes). Drunk and departing as I was, "I'll be gone in a day or two" was a poignant line to be yelling. Cheesy though it may sound, it brought the salty water to my eyes. Not sure if anyone noticed...

Supersize me.

2006-11-22T05:14:00.000Z

I had a pizza in the freezer, a beast weighing just over 2lb. It was meant to feed three, so I was saving it for the appropriate moment. Well, this evening, I was really hungry. Out came the pizza, and after a session in the oven, down the throat it started to go. Trouble set in halfway. I believe I uttered the phrase "I can't eat any more of this." That was a lie; as the hour developed, I continued to attack the pizza, determined to finish it. I did.

I. Feel. Terrible. Distended and bent over. I'm quite tempted to stick my fingers down my throat and relieve the pressure. I've just eaten a kilo of stodgy food in one sitting. Imagine dropping a one-kilo bag of sugar down your pipe. Yeah. That's more like it.

Oh, more cramps. Never again.

News from the front.

2006-11-10T03:25:00.000Z

Over fifty days have passed, and I'm still sitting pretty in Toronto. My blog has been drifting toward the wider world recently; I feel it's time to reorient. That could go for my life, not just my blog. I'll explain.

I was dozing on the couch earlier this evening, but I'm at a higher angle now. Once I've posted this, I'll head straight to bed, for sleep has been at a premium for the past month. My hand has been forced; the body doesn't take kindly to sustained negligence. Ironing shall have to wait till the morning... again. I wonder if I've clean socks? The TV thrums with no great passion, too jaded to demand my attention. Even Amanda's focus is elsewhere. Her ritual Thursday TV night is beginning to waste. I adapted speedily to the life we constructed here, since mine was a tabula rasa. Funny then how I find small changes in the new order less easy to adapt to. We moved the cutlery two weeks ago, yet I habitually open the wrong drawer. Thursday is TV night... at least, it used to be.

I am so very settled. How odd. The impetus to risk, to adventure, has ebbed with domestication. The need for a belt to hold my slacks has ebbed too, but of that, the less said the better. For the first month, I threw myself enthusiastically at every opportunity. I needed to. Now, although I don't need to, I ought to. I don't. I still have too few Canadian contacts, and my social circle is a third of that back home. I've worked hard to get even this far, and though I need to press on, I'm resting on my laurels. It's the easy option. Migration is exhausting, and my stance is the norm here, but that doesn't make it right. I need a kick up the arse. It's time, once again, to put myself out there and acquire more friends. Brrr. Is that a cold sweat coming on? Canadians are friendly and quite charming, but they're reserved and lead more insular lives than I'm used to. Socialising is less common, hence making friends is harder.

I'm in employment until the New Year at least. You'll love my occupation. Think of a great adventurer. Got that mental image? Good - now take a negative. I'm a Pension Analyst. Business casual, desk-bound, fired on coffee, and so high in the sky I can see the air traffic. You couldn't buy office space this high in Dublin, because it doesn't exist. The wages aren't nearly as good as you'd imagine, due to the greedy bite of the recruitment agency. Having said that, it pays the bills (just), the environment is relaxed, and the location is fantastic. My particular skyscraper is connected to the underground city, so it's a three minute walk from the subway platform to the lift. The only time I'm exposed to the elements is during the five minute trek from my front door to St. Clair West subway station. Yet working downtown brings the incentive to go outside. The streets are busy (though not to Dublin levels) and full of wonder. I frequently stroll east to St. Lawrence Market to pick up a cheap and quirky lunch. One option there is a little bakery that sells the best bacon sandwiches. The lunchtime amble often brings a good photo-op. Alas, I commonly forget my camera, while yesterday's barrage of visual splendour was ruined by dead batteries. No matter. Time is on my side.

Next Monday, I would have been graduating. My erstwhile classmates will be appending letters to their name, and for the first time, I feel a tinge of regret - for the first time, I'm missing out on something. Worry not; it's a tinge, not an ache. I like my city. Yes - my city. When my voice echoes on Skype, I hear the first subtle flowerings of a Canadian accent. My life has a structure, if not a complete narrative. I have no desire to leave, only to build. Rich and daring travels lie ahead, but this is my base.

Christmas shall be passed on Bruce Peninsula, which juts deep into Lake Superior. If weather permits, I'll be able to take a long boat journey out to Manitoulin Island, the world's largest freshwater island. The New Year and early January may see a trip eastwards. It has been suggested that we choose Montreal to ring in the New Year. If so, I'll be sure to take in Ottawa and Quebec as well. The great tour of the East Coast must wait until the spring, I think. I might get a chance to travel north and camp in Algonquin National Park before mid-December; if not, that'll also have to wait until the spring. The Aurora Borealis are meant to be spectacular up there.

Today was incredibly balmy, reaching a brief height of 16 degrees. The last hurrah of autumn, it seems. Hardcore winter is predicted to roll in from next week onwards. Clicking through various sites in the last several minutes, I noted factoids (that grow in charm as you descend through the list) such as:

In Southern Ontario, the winter season starts in November and finishes around the middle of April.

In one day, residents, especially those in Southern Ontario, may be drenched by cold winter rain then covered with snow because north winds have dropped temperatures to well below freezing.

"Whiteout" is the term used to describe blizzard-like or blowing snow conditions which reduce visibility to a few metres. People standing in a whiteout are unable to see shadows or landmarks and lose all sense of direction, perception and sometimes even balance as the land and the sky seem to blend into one.

Environment Canada's Warnings are quite specific about the type of weather approaching. Please pay attention to them. There are 10 types of Winter Weather Warnings.

Environment Canada also warns of the level of risk of frostbite associated with a wind chill factor. For example, when the wind chill is from ‑28 to ‑39, exposed skin can freeze in 10 to 30 minutes.

Hypothermia results when body temperature falls below 35 C. Symptoms include drowsiness, impaired co-ordination and weakness. It can also be fatal.

Frostbite is the result of skin freezing. It causes swelling, redness, tingling and burning. Skin turns white and waxy as the frostbite progresses. Infection and loss of extremities can result.

Frostnip is a condition where ice crystals form under the skin. Chilblains occur when bare skin is exposed to cold water, or when wet skin cools. The skin itches and swells. Chilblains can lead to gangrene.

For the record, meteorologists are forecasting an especially cold winter in Toronto. Whee!

The crazy thing is that buildings are maintained at a constant temperature in the low twenties. On a cold day, I already feel the phenomenal heat when I walk through the front door, or enter a building downtown. During a cold snap, stepping through a doorway is going to mean a rise of 40-50 degrees Celsius. Whoa. If I don't freeze, I'll fry.

Wondering about the new photo? It's from Halloween. :) Anything else you should know? Oh - I buy bags of milk here. Yes: bags.

A crumb of hope for the vanquished.

2006-11-09T06:09:00.000Z

To the lunatic wing of the Republican party, I offer you a way back. Bear with my [deceptively invalid] logic for one minute.

1. Donald Rumsfeld was an incompetent President's pet with a penchant for serial mismanagement.
2. That a senior manager remained in office with such a record is a scandal.
3. A private corporation would have shown such an incompetent the door years ago.
4. This [one example] demonstrates that the public sector is too slow in removing inept staff and management.
5. The slowness of the response constitutes a grave inefficiency.
6. Improving government efficiency is a laudable policy goal.
7. [Unsubstantiated assertion] In this area, the private sector has a clear efficency advantage.
8. A privatised government [responsible only to its shareholders] would not tolerate Rumsfeldian negligence, and would thus be a more efficient government.

Therefore:
The privatisation of the United States government is a laudable policy goal.

There's your big idea for the 2008 fightback, eh?

Think about how you could sell it. Private corporations [such as Halliburton] are profiteering off the back of the government as it is, without reward to the American taxpayer. Privatisation would involve a once-off lump-sum transfer from the corporate sector to the oppressed taxpayers. Everyone gains: the corporations get to maximise profit by cutting inefficiencies, and the taxpayers earn compensation for the current (and future discounted) profit stream. [Of course, the taxpayers would receive this windfall in proportion to their tax contributions. Otherwise, this would be income redistribution by stealth.]

I can see it now:

Cheney/Santorum '08: Privatise Government!

Exit villains, stage right.

2006-11-09T04:05:00.000Z

It's the end of the road for this odd couple, whose fortunes, it turned out, were linked by an umbilical cord of blood (not pictured). Both departed with trademark humility.

"Rumsfeld quoted Churchill..."

Sir, you share his gross failings, but not his remarkable assets. I'll be diplomatic, and leave it at that.

Saddam Hussein has urged Iraqis to seek reconciliation, two days after being sentenced to death by hanging for crimes against humanity.

"I call on all Iraqis, Arabs and Kurds, to forgive, reconcile and shake hands," the former president told the court in a separate trial for genocide. (Source: BBC)

"People of Iraq, I kiss you," he did not say.

Oh. Did we misjudge this gentle Gandhi?

Don't slam the (trap) door on your way out. Either of you.

Mid-term elections in the US.

2006-10-29T18:37:00.000Z

I'm not living in the US, but I have closer exposure to its people and media than my European friends. So let me present a sceptical assessment.

The common belief, garnering much media traction, is that the Democrats are going to sweep control of the House, and possibly of the Senate too. Many reasons have been cited, ranging from anger at the Iraq war, to the wreck of New Orleans, congressional ineptitude and scandals, and all the financial woes that have been affecting low- to middle-income families. I don't disagree that the Republicans have been busy digging a grave for themselves, led by the great excavator himself.

The question is: are the Democrats fit and pretty enough to tip the elephant into its soggy tomb? I'm less certain than the consensus is. If anti-war sentiment is the major wild card in this election, then how does that translate to pro-Democrat sentiment? Sure, it might keep the floating voter from casting for a Republican. Yet the small fact ignored by the great consensus is that the Democrats are overwhelmingly pro-war, and despite the best efforts of individual candidates, the party as a whole is constrained from portraying itself as an opponent of the war. Thus I'm far from clear whether the angry floating voter will be sufficiently motivated to drive to the polling station and vote for a Democrat. The same suspicion pertains, more strongly, to the disillusioned Republican.

If the Democrats can't mobilise a large turnout, they won't gain control of either chamber. They have a good chance of victory, but I think the odds are far lower than the media is making out. We'll soon see.

You know you're flush when...

2006-10-23T01:50:00.000+01:00

You can afford to drink milk with your dinner, instead of tap water.

And over a month has passed.

2006-10-22T20:44:00.000+01:00

Sleeping is giving in, no matter what the time is...

That's an attitude I've been (re-)adopting recently, to the cost of my health!

One question arises again and again: "Why would I ever want to go home?" I know that seems a little naive. Canada isn't perfect. Most of my friends and family are across the ocean. I could be earning twice or thrice as much back in Ireland, or perhaps in London. And yet... why would I ever want to go home? How can someone change so much in five weeks? Well, it's happened. My priorities, and indeed my general outlook on life, have undergone a radical shift. All ex-students undergo these shifts, but normally not at such a pace.

I was going to take a stack of photos today, but it's been miserable. So here's two shots out the front window, and one of our Thanksgiving dinner.

I love this city. I'm already putting down tender, youthful roots. I've settled in incredibly well thus far - to the point that I feel like a permanent immigrant, not a temporary worker. An example: one of the reasons I came over here was to avoid being snared by the corporate world between my degrees. I planned to mix up different kinds of work: retail, temp office, cafe, etc. The thing is, wages here are very stingy compared to Dublin, and probably Western Europe in general. A retail job - one without the possibility of commission or tips - normally pays as little as $8 an hour. After tax, that translates to €4.44, or £2.97. While living costs are somewhat lower here, how could one live on that?! So I'm actively pursuing "career-related" jobs. I need the money. Yes, this is supposed to be a fun cultural experience, but it won't be that if I'm living on ramen noodles for the rest of the year. I'll take my salary from 9-5, and my fun and culture during the rest of the week. And so it follows that my work attitude is not "happy-go-lucky Irish traveller", but professional to the core. It's all about impressions, folks. And ok, competence too. I'm chuffed to report that I seem to making good first impressions everywhere I go, whether it be socially or professionally. Confidence is sky-high!

I've been temping for the last week at a printing firm out in North York. It's a long, long way from home. Put it this way - an hour and twenty minutes on Toronto's efficient, quick transport system. The work wasn't exactly stimulating, but at least the staff were friendly. I, of course, put in my best performance - professional, diligent, friendly, self-motivated and showing initiative. On my second day, they offered me a long-term job in a more challenging position, which would involve some training in computer programming. Can't say I wasn't tempted; I gave it a few days' thought. In the end, I declined, due essentially to the poor location. I need to be working much closer to home, and secondly, to be in an urban setting, rather than an outlying industrial estate, with no facilities.

It felt strange to be turning down a good job. I guess it's a reflection of my self-confidence right now. To be offered that on my second day is a great credit to me. There's another thing you learn in Canada (and presumably in the US too): you have to sell yourself. Modesty is for mugs. Play every card. Use every contact. And show just how good you are.

As you may have guessed, I didn't land the non-profit job I was aiming for. I think I came across well in the interview, but the woman who got the position had far more experience. C'est la vie. I have an interview for another, longer-running, temp job next Thursday. The pay is better, the work is more interesting, and the location is fantastic: Yonge and Adelaide. No reason I can't get it. Even better, I've made a high-up contact in one of Canada's biggest banks, which might lead to something quite decent.

Enough of work. Last night, I ended up in a club which can only be described as Copperface Jack's meets Doyle's (upstairs), with a higher proportion of punk in the playlist. 'Twas interesting, to say the least. It had a mixed proportion of crazies, hotties, losers and hipsters. I've added it to my list; I think I'll go there when I'm feeling lazy. Both dressing-up and effort are optional...

Love this city.

Adventures in cooking.

2006-10-16T21:52:00.000+01:00

Today has been distinguished, to say the least. I'll focus on my adventures in cooking. When I arrived home this afternoon, I decided to make some crepes. While I can rustle up some reasonable pancakes, Crepeland was a virgin arena for me. I boldly went without an appropriately-sized flipper, and, well... take a look at my blueberry crepe.

Ahem. I was smartly persuaded to revert to the classic pancake and maple syrup combination.

Later this afternoon, I decided to make a risotto. Simple enough, you might think. Indeed. Except that in the absence of vegetable stock, I'd bought two small cans of vegetable broth. I was puzzled by how rapidly the rice absorbed the broth, and alarmed when the risotto began to smoke and burn. Then I glanced at the cans. In very small print in the corner: "Condensed Soup. Add Water." Ah. I belatedly added water.

To be fair, I made a valiant attempt at eating the atrocity pictured above. I gagged on my first forkful. Water supported me through the next four mouthfuls, before I quit. It was the most revolting thing I've ever cooked up.

So now I'm off to fry some bacon and eggs. I can't mess that up... or can I? ;)

P.S. Will respond to all your comments as soon as I can!

Minor milestones.

2006-10-15T02:54:00.000+01:00

4th October 2005 - Bitching Brew is founded.

18th September 2006 - Martin bids a fond goodbye to his old life, and a giddy hello to TO.

23rd September 2006 - I attend my first baseball game. Three dozy hours later, it's clear that I've also attended my last baseball game.

1st October 2006 - Canadian television meets the emigré for the first time.

4th October 2006 - 191 posts later, the first anniversary of my blog passes without notice, as I'm busy moving into my new apartment. I think the first night in my new home was a tad more significant. Euphoria strikes again when I discover the bagel bakery two minutes from my door. :)

5th October 2006 - Martin visits Ikea. Yes, it's almost as big as you've imagined.

12th October 2006 - First snowfall in Toronto. It's chilly out.

13th October 2006 - Second snowfall in Toronto. It's bloody freezing.

Looking forward to a long, cold winter.

Huzzah!

2006-10-02T22:53:00.000+01:00

Sometimes it feels like nothing's going right. Little things go awry. You watch as your friends and neighbours find their feet and groove away so smoothly. As you sit in with a book and a bowl of spaghetti, flat-broke, it can be a little disheartening.

Other days, you're dealt a straight flush, and your poker face melts into giddy delirium as you slap your cards on the table. Yesterday, a smile crossed my face when I found myself holding a full house. Today, I was dealt a royal flush. Good times, and I feel so fine.

I finally have a home! After being stranded in a hostel for two weeks, five thousand miles from home, I can't express how fantastic that feels. I'll be living with two trainee teachers in a nice apartment in a very snazzy neighbourhood: Forest Hill, Toronto. It's midtown, near the University-Spadina subway line. Despite being well inside Toronto, the area retains a small village feel. It's safe, pretty and wealthy, with Porsches and Corvettes lining the streets. A just trope would be the Ranelagh of Toronto. The apartment is medium-sized, with a small sun-room at the front. My bedroom doesn't echo, but 'tis more than sufficient. For this quite pleasant abode, I'll be paying $550 a month, which covers all utilities, cable and broadband. That equates to about €410 per month, so I'm getting a sweet deal.

My new roomies seem cool and friendly; one has even invited me back to her family home for Thanksgiving, which is the coming weekend in Canada. While I was going to stay in the city with the Swappers, watch the Ireland-Cyprus match, and such delights, I think I'll accept this generous offer. It's a wonderful opportunity so early in my Canadian experience. The icing on today's cake is the possibility of a job opening at a non-profit urban research institute in downtown Toronto. It's only a possibility at the moment, but if it came off, I'd be a junior research/projects assistant with a more than reasonable salary. Things are really looking up here.

I haven't even told you about Saturday night yet... sure, I'll get round to it in my next post. It was the kind of night that could never happen in Dublin. Think of an all-night public art festival, fog sculptures, meeting random Canadians in the rain, and being captured for TV playing giant outdoor Twister at 5am. Got that? That's pretty much it. :)

House hunting. Job hunting. I hate hunting.

2006-09-28T05:23:00.000+01:00

The novelty wears off pretty quickly. OK, that’s a lie. The sense of wonder is gone, but there’s still a low-level appreciation of novelty. For example, every Wednesday evening, you can buy a slice of pizza at the station for a dollar, which goes to charity. I enjoyed that deal. Naturally, I bought a slice at both ends of my journey!

Still, there is a certain knowledge that this is not a holiday. I’m desperately looking for accommodation, and now for a job as well. Even though I’m spending quite frugally, the costs of eating out (cheaply) and of a few large one-off outlays have really knocked my bank balance. I’ve spent just over a thousand dollars in a mere nine days. It’s worrying in the extreme, considering I’ll need to pay two months’ rent up-front. Equally pertinent is the knowledge that my first pay cheque is at best three weeks away. The realisation has prompted a shift in mentality – Ronnie Drew and his Seven Drunken Nights have come to an end.

Checked out two more houses today; one was bad and the other was horrendous. I’m looking with three Canadians, who are quite desperate to find a place too. The upshots are that they’re cool, would be great to live with, and that we can divide our time efficiently. The downside is that finding a large property is much more difficult than acquiring a single room. Toronto's a massive city (as shown by this map), but it's impractical for me to live too far from the downtown areas. I’ll give this a little longer, but if nothing comes to pass, alternatives will have to be sought. I can’t stay in the hostel – or any hostel – for much longer. I feel like I’ve been here about a month already; it seems ages since I’ve seen any of you.

I’m trying to get work through agencies, and due to the accommodation crisis, I’ve only just begun the search. Still waiting on a callback, though from all accounts, they’re sharper than their nasty Irish brethren. I think I’ll need employment by next week, or the week after at the very very latest. Again, if the agencies don’t respond soon, I’m going downmarket and taking the first retail/café job I can find to tide me over. There’s a jobs fair on tomorrow, which I’ll head for. It was on today, and I heard it wasn’t up to much, but it’d be senseless not to try.

This all sounds really depressing, but I’m in good spirits. Have been – and am – having a good time, have met some great people, and I love this fantastic city. Alas, the holiday is over and I need to sort myself out, five thousand miles from home. Things haven’t fallen into place yet. Not that I expected them to, but I had hoped they would. :)

P.S. Before I get my first anxiety-laden message, I’m interrupting my recent spell of quiet, dry, early nights tomorrow with a SWAP night out in a flash bar. I may even bring my camera, which I’ve really been neglecting.

P.P.S. To my fellow exile in North America, check your email and send me your phone number!!!

The CN Tower.

2006-09-22T16:45:00.000+01:00

Yes, the CN Tower is very very tall.

A trip to the top also reveals that Toronto is very very big.

It runs to the horizon, no matter which way you turn. (Excepting the lakefront, of course!!!)

As you can see, the CN Tower has a glass floor in parts. People stand around gawking, instinctively terrified to step on it. My response?

Where others fear to tread, I lie flat on the glass floor and peer straight down.

A tight, queasy knot.

2006-09-17T20:55:00.000+01:00

The night is setting on life as I know it. Tomorrow morning, I fly for Toronto, and step alone into a new life, in a new town.

I didn't think it would be so hard. Not the packing, and no, not even the bureaucracy. I mean leaving all these wonderful people behind. My stomach churns, knowing that I won't see them for at least a year. And to think - I don't even know some of them that long.

Even though I've been working like a demon, I've had the best summer of my life. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable - like I really belong. Now, with immaculate timing, I'm about to pull up those new and happy roots.

Don't get me wrong. I'm really looking forward to Toronto. This is going to be the time of my life. However, unlike previous trips abroad, a year (or two?) away carries hefty opportunity costs. Parties will be had without me there. Where someone would have called me up, another number will be dialled. People move on. They grow, they change, they hurt, they bleed. They sing, they laugh, they love, they cry. Friendships fade. Or alternatively, they endure, without the stress of another year at close quarters. What will be for each and every one?

Who shall I call? A friend can be replaced, or more precisely, can be substituted. The loss can be absorbed. Friends, on the other hand, are irreplaceable.

Life is a rollercoaster. Not because it has ups and downs - then it could just be a wave. No, it's because thrills, excitement, anxiety and terror all come together in one giddy, compelling and frightening brew.

And so ends my last post from Dublin. Stay tuned over the coming week for the first bulletin from Toronto. Remember - I'll be back. ;)

Photos from a goodbye party.

2006-09-17T20:53:00.000+01:00

Friday night was fantastic. I gathered about 15 friends together in Doyle's to bid me a fond and merry farewell. We sang, chatted, drank and danced the night away. Some of us ended up on cold stone benches outside the Gaiety after 4am, reluctant to let it end, but eventually forced off by coldness and tired eyes. Before I got camera fatigue, I snapped quite a few pictures. Here are some of the wonderful people I mention in the post above.

In a very short time...

2006-09-09T15:23:00.000+01:00

I'll be up there.

[Photo by Sam Javanrouh]

To my German fanbase.

2006-09-08T02:14:00.000+01:00

Boredom has led me to an intriguing discovery. I went and Googled myself not long ago, as you do. (I think the 14,100 results flatter me.) I noticed a few new references, including a couple of pages entirely in German. One seems to be a short story, containing several mentions of my name. Now, I don't have a common name - to my knowledge, only one other man shares it. So you wouldn't expect a German to invent it. Anyway, I pasted it into one of those automatic translators... only to find that the passage appears to be fairly pornographic. Not quite what I was expecting, but I shan't complain. I'm described as "a magnificent boy".

My titles are becoming less eye-catching.

2006-09-07T11:16:00.000+01:00

My posting has been wretchedly sporadic over the past six weeks. As ever, I have a ready-made excuse. I only finished work last Sunday, the 3rd. Considering that the 16th of August was my only day off since late July... you get the picture. Sympathy, understanding, yadda yadda.

I still haven't had the chance to take a day off, as I've been beavering away at a dizzying list of things to do, objects to buy, and people to see. Inroads are being made, fortunately! Only while I was compiling the list did I realise quite how many friends I have. The list of people to see runs to 56, counting neither friends abroad nor the odd dozen who long ago dropped from my radar. That's a heart-warming number (though not immanently so); I do hope at least half can come to the fare-me-well party. Soon I'll find out who I can and can't live without; I doubt the answers will conform to prediction.

I have just nine or ten days to wrap everything up, for I sail early on the 18th. How could I resist two weeks on the ocean... Easily - I'm flying direct. At least a fortnight in a hostel beckons, but I hope to be set up in a new home by the 1st of October. The freedom and alienation of metropolitan life lies ahead. Strange to think that more people live around Toronto than on this whole island. Yes, I've been in bigger cities before, but I've never lived in one. A final point - you know what I'm really looking forward to? The second-run and repertoire cinema circuit. Why bother seeing the latest stinker when, for a fraction of the price, one can see a slightly older but more reputable film?

A positive spin on a wretched throw.

2006-08-24T02:02:00.000+01:00

I've had an eventful day. I chalked up two positives and one negative. Firstly, I had a great and unexpected evening with friends. That's the first plus. :)
On the downside, something very worrying happened today. I'm not going to detail it here; I can only describe it as frightening, embarrassing, potentially dangerous and certainly undignified. By the way, I don't bear any culpability. The positive spin is that I handled the situation exceptionally well. Since the incident could never have been foreseen, I suspect that the vast majority of people, and indeed my younger self, would have wilted or fled. I didn't; I was confident, even brazen. Best of all, I was decisive. That gives me huge confidence going to Canada. I'm ready for this - ready for whatever curveballs await.

Meow. Etc.

2006-08-16T01:01:00.000+01:00

We seem to be adopting a kitten. She's a lovely little black and white cat - about three or four months old. I don't normally get attached to animals, but I really love this kitten. She's been hanging around the house and garden for about six weeks, but especially for the past ten days. Apparently her mother is a local stray, so we'll need to get the kitten domesticated pretty quickly.

It rained heavily all Tuesday. I found her sheltering under a bush in the front garden this morning, so took her in, dried her off and tried to feed her. She was meowing - looking for something - but I couldn't figure out what. Warmth perhaps? All she wanted to do was curl up on my lap. She wasn't keen on her normal food or on water. One of her front paws seemed to be hurting her. Eventually, I brought the food and water out to the shed and left her there, loosely wrapped in a warm towel. I had to go to work, you see! When I came home this evening, it was as if she hadn't moved all day. She's curled up on her towel, and still hasn't eaten much food. I'm not sure about her paw, or whether her breathing sounds right; if there's no improvement in the morning, I'll bring her to the vet.

One major problem is that I'm leaving in five weeks. The family seem quite happy to keep her, even though my brother prefers dogs. This kitten is very likeable. The second problem is rather awkward. Although she hasn't got a collar, my brother has heard that a family down the street are claiming the kitten, despite having recently obtained a new one. I have strong reservations about this. The cat has been up with us non-stop for the past ten days, and they haven't made the slightest effort to find her. They haven't been feeding her, nor have they given her any veterinary treatment. Worst of all, this family seem to take pretty poor care of their own children. All I'll say is that their toddlers have been found wandering alone in the town on more than one occasion.

So I'm not sure what to do. If this family genuinely had been caring for the kitten, then I wouldn't even consider keeping her. Yet there's no evidence to suggest that, and other neighbours agree. Pet "ownership" is a rather difficult concept, especially if the animal was neither bought nor given, but instead found wandering. I'm inclined to keep her and attach a collar, rather than return her to a potentially neglectful environment. Yes, clearly I'm biased. Thoughts anyone?

Still kicking.

2006-08-10T01:19:00.000+01:00

Ah, these 66-hour weeks are killing me. So tired! I don't know how young doctors manage it. Seriously. I'm in bits, and nothing important hinges on my work. (My employer would no doubt disagree.)

On my break today, I bought a guidebook to Toronto. The truth is that I don't know too much about the city, so it really was essential. 5 and a half weeks... tick-tock. I'm getting excited now, after the early summer lull. Already I've a list of side trips planned. I intend visiting Boston and Chicago in the US, as well as Alaska when I'm in Vancouver. Montreal is an absolute must; I might even live there for a time. Nova Scotia and Newfoundland will be investigated. I will certainly be venturing into the far north at one point, but the exact location doesn't matter! Banff National Park looks astonishing - another must. Add to that a trip on the Transcontinental Railroad.

Not my most coherent post (I'm exhausted), 'tis true; I merely wanted to prove that I'm still alive. This might not be cast-iron proof, but...

Skip hopping into another month.

2006-08-01T13:31:00.000+01:00

August is upon me, and upon the rest of you too. That means I'm leaving Ireland next month. Wow. Time is slipping away. It still feels like the right thing to do, but I've got something to confess. Life is fantastic right now; the last few weeks have been awesome. Maybe I'm in a bit of a comfort zone at the moment, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. It feels great. Even though I know it won't last, i.e. that it really is a summer phenomenon, a part of me is reluctant to up and leave such a good situation. The reason is that such good times don't come around too often, and so they should be savoured to the last drop. If a couple of lucky wildcards appear, this could even be the perfect summer. On the other hand, it's not going to get much better than this. Although we've all been guilty of it, there's little point clinging on to a sinking liner. Take all that you can, and bid a fond farewell. (In my case, to life as I know it.) Thus my course remains true.

I have almost seven weeks still to enjoy (and to work through). I'm going to arrange a goodbye party for either the 15th or the 16th of September, which means either a Friday or a Saturday night. Kind of looking forward to it. My recent efforts at holding a big get-together fizzled out a little. Too many people had work the next morning, or had gone home, or blah (insert lame excuse here). That said, it was still a good night.

I'm really liking the inexpensive nature of summer socialising. (My burgeoning passion for red wine is a small but significant aid.) Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights out coupled with a Sunday trip to Dun Laoghaire cost me a combined 44 euro. That's a great deal, unlikely to be repeated.

The media punditry bit.

2006-07-25T23:45:00.000+01:00

(This is a follow-up to my previous entry, and more precisely to a comment I received on it.)

Oh, I'm not equating them at all, except in the sense that I find both Hizbollah's and Israel's actions obnoxious.

Here's the media punditry bit:

Hizbollah committed an act of war against Israel. (I call it an act of war rather than an act of aggression because Hizbollah behaves like a quasi-state in southern Lebanon, i.e. it exercises quite a bit of sovereignty de facto, if not de jure.)
Israel has a right to defend itself.

I agree with both statements. Don't you? Leave aside the context and the back-story. Sometimes it's helpful to reduce complex events to a series of bullet-points! I think that's what passes for analysis these days. ;)
However, those two points don't tell the full story. In fact, they don't tell us very much. So how about another object for discussion? Let's turn the wheel a little.

Just because you were attacked first does not give you a carte blanche.

I presume you don't disagree with that either. Now, moving on just a tad, I said something that I think you misinterpreted:

Ultimately however, no one with the slightest regard for liberal values should want Hizbollah & Friends to overrun Israel.

I mean that sincerely. While I don't think Israel is the best advertisement for liberal values, Hizbollah actively opposes them. As an ordinary person seeking to exercise a bit of freedom, which ruling power do you think would be more congenial? I don't want to live in Israel. But I care about the individuals, not the particular authoritarian apparatus they live in. Let's put it this way - if Hizbollah scores a major victory over Israel, the body count is going to be a lot higher than if the reverse happens, and the freedom of the locals more circumscribed. Not only that, but Hizbollah fires its rockets without even the slightest regard for Israeli civilian casualties. That's an unequivocal war crime. So yes, ultimately, I'd support Israel in good conscience over Hizbollah, in the same way as I support the US against the nasties of the Iraqi insurgency.

However, having said all that... I must quote myself again. Nothing like a spot of self-reference to boost a hungry ego.

When is it morally acceptable to lob a grenade at a human shield?

I've heard Israelis and their apologists decrying Hizbollah for stationing their fighters and munitions in civilian areas. Damn right too. It's an appalling tactic which shows scant regard for the innocents they use, ineffectively, as human shields (another grotesque euphemism, eh?). It's terrible, the Israelis say, to put innocent civilians in the crossfire. Yes, it is. So what do they do? They bomb them anyway. I don't suppose much consideration was given to the other option.

I think Israel's response has been more than just "disproportionate". The deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure? "Surgical" strikes which always seem to kill innocent bystanders, and oh, perhaps a nasty terrorist or too, but that makes it all right, doesn't it.... (trails off in the smog). The Israelis aren't monsters. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say that they don't deliberately target civilians per se, and that they do regret the loss of innocent life. Yet it's been quite clear that, once the warning leaflets (if any) are dropped, that a Lebanese civilian life counts for nothing in the cold military calculus. Zero. Squat. Instead, we have an elaborate strategic framework weighing up the lives of Israeli soldiers and Israeli civilians vis-a-vis the deaths of Hizbollah fighters. I think that omission is obnoxious, and that some of the Israeli actions qualify (what a word!) as war crimes too.

I want to see an immediate ceasefire and a long-term comprehensive peace plan. I guess the chances of seeing either lie somewhere south of 'fuck all'.

A simple-minded question.

2006-07-23T21:55:00.000+01:00

What a joyous world we live in. Yes, I can see the arguments, the explanations, the justifications and the grotesque, ever-present spin on both sides of our war of the month. One is tempted to call a plague on all their houses. Ultimately however, no one with the slightest regard for liberal values should want Hizbollah & Friends to overrun Israel. Note: I am not justifying anything here. The issues have been done to death (quite literally), and I've no desire to scribble down what would be little more than a mish-mash of media punditry. 'Tis a pity the world couldn't find the same urgency to tackle the far bloodier conflict in Darfur.

Can I contribute anything of value? Perhaps. I'm not pretending that international relations ever took heed of ethics, but a small, naive question came to my mind over the past week. I can best put it as follows:

- When is it morally acceptable to lob a grenade at a human shield?

Think about it.

Wages for the indolent.

2006-07-18T16:26:00.000+01:00

My current job isn't proving to be much of a challenge (not that I expected it to be). In fact, there were hardly any customers last night. The upshot is a minor cheque for reading Gore Vidal's United States and occasionally scoffing a black olive. It's a magnificent book, and comes with my highest recommendation (check it out on the inside cover). United States is a collection of over a hundred Vidal essays, too multifarious to summarise by a single word. As public intellectuals go, the man is in the supreme league, but each essay is very readable and frequently amusing. Anyone interested in the US should flick through it.

That's my summer employment summed up. Oh, I also partook of tea, chit-chat and chocolate.

A short musing.

2006-07-12T22:23:00.000+01:00

I find it impossible to objectify people. I can't help but remain acutely aware that each person has feelings, hopes, fears, dreams and uncertainties of their own. I'm not talking about scientific data; how can a bare statistic be humanised? Only through picking out an individual, or individuals, from that mass.

What interests - or bothers - me is how someone can objectify (dehumanise?) another breathing, speaking, thinking person in their presence. We only need look at various wars and genocides to see the ultimate outcome of this, but the less destructive instances are more common, such as treating people as means to an end. There's a distinction between objectifying someone and treating them badly. Even if you take pains to avoid a beggar's gaze, you're implicitly recognising their humanity. If you kick a homeless guy out of the way, that's objectification.

Oh, there are reams of theories to explain this, scientific and otherwise. I can follow the explanations; however, I can't understand the act. That's probably a good thing... probably.

I've learned something today.

2006-07-10T20:59:00.000+01:00

My college computer account is due to expire on Wednesday, so I've spent the last few hours sifting through four years worth of email. Having gone through 1500 already, I'm taking a break till tomorrow.

I now know what "numbed by boredom" means. In fact, I think I've had a metaphysical encounter with the Platonic Form of Tedium. Forever shall I cherish this rare experience; normally, it's the exclusive privilege of long-standing academic philosophers.

Favourite songs.

2006-07-03T17:08:00.000+01:00

When I make mix tapes or playlists, I tend to avoid sticking a load of favourites together; the themed approach is better. Since each song evokes different feelings, some kind of emotional flow needs to be maintained. Not a hodge-podge.

If I were to mix together my favourite songs, in no particular order, you’d see something like this. Many of them carry strong associations. A few are outstanding pieces of music. Still others are mediocre, or even plain dumb, but I love them still.

New York City Serenade – Bruce Springsteen
Black Celebration – Depeche Mode
Sometimes – My Bloody Valentine (I can hardly make out a word, but I don’t need to.)
Bulletproof – The Afghan Whigs (This is my song.)
Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley
Hyper-Ballad – Bjork
Downbound Train – Bruce Springsteen (I’m instinctively drawn to this song. I’m not entirely clear why; it’s not even very good. Loss occasioned by circumstance? Too easy. There's something here.)
The Magnificent Seven – The Clash (My favourite Clash song. Nuff said.)
Oh! Darling – The Beatles (There’s a daft story behind this. Don’t ask.)
Next Exit – Interpol (Far from Interpol’s best song, but I love listening to it while staring out a train window. For some reason, it conjures up the thrill of travel, departure… and emigration. This song makes me want to share that thrill with someone.)
When We Two Parted – The Afghan Whigs
In These Arms – Bon Jovi (OK. Confession time: this would be my karaoke song. Someday, I’m going to scare a woman away by singing this to her. I’m resigned to that fate.)
I’m A Cuckoo – Belle & Sebastian
Station to Station – David Bowie (It’s almost impossible to pull off even a half-decent ten-minute song. This isn’t just half-decent; it’s awesome, in the best sense of the word.)
Disintegration – The Cure
Jenny Was A Friend of Mine – The Killers (I was a little loath to put a Killers song on my list, but I’d have been lying had I not included this. This is my Rock Star song: I’m apt to wear a sneer after hearing it.)
I Know It’s Over – The Smiths (Melancholy, tragic beauty.)
Perfect Kiss – New Order (I always think of Paris when I hear it. I’m probably the only person who will ever make that connection. Because it’s weird.)
When A Man Loves A Woman – Percy Sledge (Just because.)
A Love Supreme/Please Stay (Once You Go Away) – The Twilight Singers

Love as a mental illness?

2006-07-02T09:03:00.000+01:00

"The principal symptom of lovesickness is obsession with the beloved"

Indeed. I stumbled across an interesting short article by Frank Tallis, arguing that psychologists should take 'lovesickness' more seriously as an explanation. It's a quick, decent read. A lot of the author's points sound intuitively right. Needless to say, that's because much of what he says ought to be classed as the bleeding obvious, though I suspect he's aware of that:

It is difficult to experience passionate love in the absence of at least some psychological pain. When unrequited (or frustrated), passionate love will reliably engender a sense of emptiness – and even despair.

But I love (shoot me...) this one:

LOVESICK?
We are not always rational in love, particularly in the early stages – do any of these look familiar?

mania– abnormally elevated mood, inflated self-esteem, extravagant gift giving

depression– tearfulness, insomnia, loss of concentration

obsessive compulsive disorder– preoccupation, checking (e.g. text messages) hygiene rituals (prior to dating), and hoarding valueless but superstitiously resonant items

Do any of these look familiar? Eh... (shuffles in seat awkwardly)
I can't believe no one told me I was irrational when in love. Worse still, none* of my friends had the guts to point out my obvious psychological disorder. I'm disappointed in them: what's a diagnosis between friends?

To be truthful, I think that's a pretty broad definition of love. It's arguable whether crushes are in fact a form of love; they surely are, but they're not what I mean when I use the L-word. Of course, the symptoms above are all present in the hardcore varieties too.

What I demand next from the psychological establishment is:
(a) a neurological explanation for the coincidence of love and hate
(b) an explanation for the fragility of 'love' - the evolutionary hypothesis is weak here
(c) new and better pills :P

* - I may have lied...

Closure.

2006-06-28T21:25:00.000+01:00

If someday I speak of the end of college, then I shall say that it came yesterday, when I left through Front Arch after reading my results. C'est tout: the book is complete. To add to the mood, the past ten days have been peppered with departures. Only last night did I realise how few people were left.

I found this scribble on a page:
The times they are a-changin'; don't see it as a threat. Take a chance and seize the time, or 'ever know regret.

Change is only a threat if you see it as such. Think instead of opportunity.

And so I must move on. I wish I hadn't postponed my emigration till September; I'm merely treading water here. The end of college hasn't been traumatic; the whole decoupling has felt very natural and timely, though that's not to say I won't or don't miss people. When one finishes a good chapter, one hastens eagerly to the next. Sure, a break might be taken for the night, but it's frustrating to wait too long.

On the other hand, I haven't reached resolutions in everything yet. Before I go, I'd like to replace a lot of ambiguities with certainties. There's an unwritten list of people to see, places to go, risks to take and things to do over the coming weeks. Some have been bubbling for years, but others could only be described as recent whims! For instance, I've never been to Galway. So I'd like to visit for a weekend; it shouldn't be too expensive. All I need is a wee pot of gold and a partner in crime!

I'll close on a less circumspect note. If the past few weeks have taught me anything, it's that I managed to surround myself with an utterly charming bunch of people. I'm not talking exclusively about college friends; I include friends and family both near and abroad. I can honestly say that I've never felt more loved or appreciated at any point in my life. It's been special to realise how many people really like me. I'm not saying that I didn't know before, but rarely has it felt so obvious and widespread. Hopefully they all know how much I reciprocate, including those who read. And more narrowly, those who read the blog.

Footnote: Two minutes after I posted this, I received a text message, dispatched from a ferry putting out to sea. It was sent by another departing friend, as he looked back on the Dublin sunset. Perfect timing.

A quick revelation.

2006-06-27T15:15:00.000+01:00

My degree results came out today...

And I did better than expected! It looks like I scored a First average in my final exams. That wasn't quite enough to give me an overall First Class degree, given previous results, but I've ended up with a high II.1, in the 67-68 ballpark. I've to wait until Thursday for a precise breakdown. I'm delighted!!! That should be enough to get me into any of the courses I was looking at.

Even better, all of my friends have done brilliantly. I'm surrounded by geniuses. At least six of them got Firsts. One of my best friends came top in the Arts faculty, and is a shoe-in for a gold medal. Another is in pretty much the same position, and has also been nominated for a gold medal. Happy times indeed!!!

On a final note, some of the excellent results I mention, including my own, are a great vindication of the TAP scheme. Many of us could never have made into Trinity without it. And it's a given that none of us would have had the funds to support ourselves. So a big thanks is due to everyone involved with TAP.

P.S. I shall get around to all my replies tomorrow!

The World Cup so far.

2006-06-26T00:23:00.000+01:00

It's strange that I hadn't posted anything about the World Cup up until this point, because I've watched about half of the games. I guess barstool debating relaxes the urge to diatribe via the blog.

England are bad. Wow. I can't believe that this shambles of a side now have a shot at the semi-finals. It sickens me whenever a team gets a positive result from a dreadful performance. Well, England have managed to sicken me in all four of their matches. I'm not anti-England by any means; before the tournament kicked off, I would have been fairly happy to see them win. No more. Their lack of technique and incoherence can merit only one result: defeat. I hope the depleted Portuguese strip the last tatters of hype from their sails.

I'm still loving Argentina, even if the Mexicans matched them every inch of the way Saturday evening. The Argies are everything Brazil aspire to be. Their philosophy is slightly less cynical than in previous years, and their attacking interplay is sublime. Heinze is still lacking match practice, and I wouldn't trust Scaloni to guard a dollar, but those are the only two chinks in the squad that I can see. Above all, Saviola's renaissance has been a delight. Almost a forgotten man, he was outstanding in the first two group games. Brilliant as Tevez and Messi are, Saviola's performances ought to keep them on the bench.

The Germans, one suspects, will be the biggest test of all; they were imperious in the first half against Sweden. Whoever comes out of their clash with Argentina ought to be ranked as clear favourites for the Cup. Were they not meeting so early, I'd rank them as joint favourites.

Overall, I've enjoyed the tournament. Just like in Euro 2000, overhyped egos and dinosaur playing styles have been exposed - even if the Sven juggernaut lurches on one more week. I wasn't sure that I'd get so engrossed given Ireland's (deserved) absence, but, leaving aside some dreadfully dull group games, it's been fun. On a final note, Souness has been an inspired signing by RTE, and Garth Crooks is a joke surpassed only by Alan Shearer, Ian Wright and of course ITV in general.