Chilling out?

A deliberately easy-going and quiet weekend became all the quieter when both my Saturday and Sunday day-time programmes alike were cancelled shortly after one another. Though slightly regretful of this unexpected turn of events an entirely empty weekend is and will be a true rarity, forcing me into chilling out to the max. So when leaving work at a respectable half past four in the afternoon on Friday I was facing a Friday night full of books, music, peace and quiet. Yet I couldn’t. I find that I have so much energy here; energy to do stuff, to be assertive and to go explore and to live. Beside the energy I derive from Dublin and her lovely surroundings it must also be the total absence of energy-draining elements in my life here; no hours-long commute, no NS, no diary full of dates and meetings and what not equally divided over 4 different cities in three different provinces, still no NS, no boiler-issues in poorly isolated houses... None of that. So Friday, yes. Against my better judgment I went for an extended run along the river, which, if anything, only added to my yearning to do something that night. Hence I decided to attend the weekly couch-surfing meeting, held every Friday at another venue, this time being The Czech Inn. These meetings feature members of the couch-surfing community –(semi-)permanent dwellers of Dublin, travellers, backpackers, hosts and friends of friends- getting together and having a good time. Which is what I did, chatting away happily with people from all over, enjoying my Pilsner Urquel. My souvenir of the evening is called Julie and she’ll by staying at our place for a few nights before continuing her euro trip.

Saturday I took on another of my cycling trips (see map) with James (my bike) – well documented in the previous posts – and although the weather was as capricious as I have ever experienced in Dublin it was decent enough for cycling in the end. I found myself particularly fortunate both in terms of time and place when I was chilling out from a steep climb at one of my favourite spots in Dublin; up on a hill and overlooking the entire city with Howth and the bay all the way up to Malahide. Dublin was bathing in beams of sunlight while ominous clouds were gathering behind me; the usual intersperse of sun and rain. Hence I found myself in the slightly paradoxal state of looking at a brilliant blue sky ahead of me, while to my right waves of rain washed the hillsides clean and forced fellow-cyclists into dismounting and hiding. My spot was particularly convenient; shielding behind a huge tree, with a double layer of leaves safeguarding me from the rain. I may as well have been under a slatted roof as no single drop of the torrential rain touched me. See attached drawing for clarification ;)

Physically and mentally satisfied after this trip I joined Bo (the gf) and Bo (her friend visiting) to The International Bar which regularly features comedy nights. The gig was alright and the crowd cramped into the limited space of the attic enthused, which made along with a few pints of Carlsberg for an entertaining evening. Quote of the night while watching a bunch of stout women march into the crowd: 'They look like a rugby team' (slightly mocking undertone). The evening's host, 5 minutes later: 'And a warm welcome to the Irish ladies Rugby Team tonight!'

And now, believe it or not, now I am truly at ease, having read in bed in my newest book until noon, eating and drinking and listening to Einaudi playing the piano while occasionally thinking of Bo and Bo who as we speak are battling rain and wind in their cliff walk. Ghi ghi. Super-relaxing Sunday. I guess I earned it ;)

Koen & Mariken

Koen must already feel at home in Dublin, with his second visit in two months' time. Well appreciated though, and really good to realise that moving abroad doesn't have to have any impact on the relationships that mean most to you. It was a most enjoyable weekend once again, with a guided tour at Malahide Castle, winning bets at the dog races, hitting some golf balls from Leopard's Town's driving range, a stroll at The Taste of Dublin, and many pints of the black gold!

Some non-profound add-ons to our trip! First of all the map is incomplete because it doesn't show our trip to the Cliffs of Moher South of Galway. I guess no-one notices nor cares hence I leave it as it is. Secondly our best quotes of the journey :D

Sandwich man: ‘I recommend having onions on your sandwich too’
Bo: ‘Alright go ahead, I trust you’
Sandwich man: ‘Not many women do'

(Bo being exuberant)
Tony: ‘Mensen denken dat ik jouw verzorger ben’

Tony: ‘Dat strakke hipster blousje is ook relaxt’
Bo: ‘Dat is helemaal niet hipster eerder trashy’
Tony: ‘Hipster is het merk’
Bo: ‘Ohja’
Tony: ‘Know your closet’

Bo: ‘Lukt dat die steile helling op?’
Tony: ‘Natuurlijk. Ik zit in een Audi’
*BAM*KNAL*pruttel pruttel

Bo: ‘Dit is “aftera te” ijs, het enige ijs dat ik echt lekker vind’
Tony: ‘Bah’
-pause-
(grin)
Tony: ‘Ik wilde zeggen “smaakt naar tandpasta” maar dat slik je ook gewoon door’

The West

I’ve always been told by people that they had been told by other people that Ireland’s really pretty. You know, what’s beyond Dublin and Cork and the like, beyond the cities and towns and into the real Ireland. On previous trips to Glendalough and Carlingford, Ireland had already showed its prettiness to me, but it hadn’t seemed too wild. It’s been a cultivated prettiness, with marked hiking trails and some tourists here and there and an area that could be overseen from the top of the hill that marked the most awesome spot of the trip. This ‘bank holiday weekend’ I found out about that other part of Ireland, the part that mesmirises people and starts living its own life in the tales and stories people tell one another, so that in the end everyone kind of knows that Ireland is pretty but few people have witnessed its raw beauty in its full might. I have now, or at least a tiny bit of it, and I can’t wait to explore more.

Connemara. Just google it and you’ll instantly be rewarded with pictures showing dazzling landscapes and wild ponies (don’t ask me about the latter). It’s a stretch of land covering multiple counties in the west of Ireland and is so wild and generally uninhabitable that its population density has remained very low. As the land does not allow for much more than sheep herding its natural beauty has been preserved very well over the past centuries, while EU regional development funds have made sure that the infrastructure is top notch. Together this allows for the slightly paradoxal experience of experiencing raw, fairly unspoilt nature, while driving comfortably on a recently constructed road. Apart from the marked hiking trail in Connemara National Park –which wasn’t quite matching expectations because the foggy weather basically prohibited us from gorging on the spectacular views that the route supposedly holds- Bo and I explored Connemara by driving through it and getting out of the car every so often to explore yet another unique spot or viewpoint of stretch of land or river or what not. And while the great-quality roads wouldn’t be the reason for holding up travellers on their journey, Connemara’s perpetual inhabitants are; sheep and cows who are pretentiously unaware of where their semi-fenced territory ends and the road begins roam around unconcerned and stare indifferently into the headlights of any approaching car.

Impressive as well are the Cliffs of Moher; 200 metre tall stretches of sheer rock formation rising up from the sea, withstanding the merciless beating of ceaseless waves while overlooking the Atlantic ocean and guarding Ireland’s west coast. Gorging on their might from the sea was impressive to begin with, but staring down at the depths below while lying flat on the belly all the way up there is a treat for the senses unparalleled by much else. Peeking over the edge, down the vertical rock formations, while seagulls soar in the vast space between you and the depths below, watching wave after wave crushing the rocks, features the peculiar sensation of feeling adrenaline rush through your veins while being completely motionless as all that’s moving really are your eyes.

I could keep on writing about Connemara. Easily. If I ever get to write my book this is a place to get inspired. And reading back this blog post I’m really not satisfied with what I’ve scribbled down, as it’s nothing compared to the sentences that spun through my mind when I was roaming through Connemara’s natural bliss. Well, as I’m a satisfier I’ll still post this blog, along with pictures that don’t even approximate the true sights, and perhaps one of these days I’ll give it another try and write down something more profound. Connemara-worthy, that is. For now I’m calling this bank holiday a day and I’m going to sleep, as it’s been a long and awesome weekend. Soon more and better!!

Unscheduled weekends are the best

This weekend, which is almost coming to an end, was an exception in my diary these months. As it was empty. No visitors, no foreign trips, no domestic trips, no girl friend, no plans. Well, along with Gijs and Pieter we had sort of marked Friday night “gents’ night”, but nothing really had materialised yet until Friday 4 pm, when Gijs had the marvellous idea to go to “Johnny Fox’s”. This pub, being the highest of Ireland, borders a par three golf course, with very pretty views over the surrounding hills. What more could you wish for on a Friday night; playing golf in the middle of an inspiring mountain landscape, with a cold pint of Guiness waiting for you when the dark and cold prevent you from playing any further? And that’s what we did, listening to live music indoors, drinking our pints, enjoying the crowds. The bus took us back home after the last round, from where I walked home, passing the power cabinet on which Gijs and I had nourished our Subway dinner half a day before, a sight apparently so remarkable that people took pictures from their cars waiting for the traffic light. I caught a full ten hours of sleep that night, which I really needed, and awoke on a Saturday, ready to make the most of the afternoon.

Well, that Saturday featured one activity and one activity only which took place outdoors, and the rest of the day / evening / night I was watching Game of Thrones episodes on my projector, feeling like being in a cinema while actually lying on my semi comfortable couch. That one activity was a remarkable one however, as I witnessed Toulon beat Clermont in the Heineken Cup final, which is the equivalent of the Champions League final in rugby. The venue that hosted all this glamour was the Aviva Stadium, which was nearly completely sold out with more than 50,000 spectators present. I had never been inside before, and filled up with people it’s quite an impressive sight, supporters of the two (French) teams mingling and cheering, with Toulon eventually securing the win and claiming the trophy. The scarf I bought for 10 Euros before entering the stadium and which was for sale for 5 Euros afterwards guarantees an everlasting memory of the final, as does this blog post. The Heineken cup final in Dublin, with seats almost at the roof of Dublin’s second stadium, with an entertaining match, even for the rugby layman I am. Not bad, given that I got the tickets for free Friday afternoon, not bad at all ;)

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151940044323957&l=6281593210697283980

As for today, I woke up a few hours after my intended wake-up time, but I guess that’s what relaxing weekends are for. The weather today is so lovely however that I found it a slight pity to have missed out on some hours of bright sunlight already, so as I’m slightly regretful now that I cannot write this story outside in the sun. The fantastic bike ride that consumed most of my afternoon largely made up for that however. In less than four hours I climbed hills in the Wicklow Mountains, rode along an azure blue sea, and soaked up all the sun in the world. I was enjoying so much. The journey commenced by going straight down South for 30 km, ascending the hills up to the mountainous plateau, from where the toughest climbing of the ride is already behind you. From there I took a broad swing, largely thundering downhill, past isolated houses and ruins of old cathedrals, slowly leaving the raw beauty of the hills. I thought I had left the prettiest part of the journey behind me, a statement I was reconsidering an hour or so later when I hit the shoreline. I’ve been there before, in Dalkey and Bray and Greystones and the like, and it’s always been pretty, but with a cloudless sky, temperatures that make people walk around in shorts and flip-flops, and even instigate a few daring swimmers, the scene reminded me of Amalfi, with mountains rising up from the endless blue sea, a sparkling tinkling azure carpet dotted with sailing boats and different shades of blue giving away the proximity of the sea bed below. It very well may have been the fourth or fifth time that I got off my bike, took off my helmet, and enjoyed the view, mesmerised by its beauty and growing more and more convinced that Dublin is truly one of the best cities in the world to live in, given the natural treasures she surrounds herself with. The last bit of the journey was a bit tougher, as I felt my legs lose strength until they felt like porridge, and I took one or two wrong turns attempting to find a shortcut to minimise the least pretty part of the entire bike ride. The energy from the pasta I had had for breakfast had already been used up, and my last snack had been the bar of snickers in Enniskerry, where I sat down on a bench facing the village’s central monument, next to a pretty Italian girl who was here on a language course to improve her English. Alas, as she told me, all the friends she met here were either Spanish or Italian like herself, so little came of her endeavours to improve language skills. I decided not to be selfish and had our breezy chat in English, rather than the Italian I was keen to utilise. Anyway, legs of jelly were turned into steel again by nourishing a banana and a huge raspberry muffin at a petrol station, where to guy could easily point out to me how to get to the city centre as well. So many impressions, such a healthy exercise, and so much sun… I could not have wished for a better Sunday to conclude an awesome weekend with!

Back to London

Back in London for a weekend, back into this metropolis where at felt so much at home and at ease last autumn, back riding the Barclays bikes through the city at night, to fancy cocktails in Soho and cheap beers in Shoreditch, back to some of the great friends I left behind, and to new things every day – as that’s what London does to you. As I don’t feel like writing I’ll let the pictures do the talking, suffice it to say I had a marvelous time! 

Three guys in a dorm

Showing two of my dearest friends the best of what Ireland has to offer. In a weekend, kicking off Friday afternoon and hugging goodbye 70 hours later. Admittedly, the weather did cooperate, with bright uninterrupted sunshine to accompany us everywhere we went. I generally find that the more diverse one’s weekend is, the longer it feels when looking back. This one felt like a year and a day.

Deciding to give Koen & Luijkx a good feel of what my Friday afternoons generally are like I took them straight upon arrival to the Barge for a beer, after which we dropped off their bags at home and headed for a long and delightful dinner at Bodega, which towers undefeated on my list of favourite restaurants in Dublin. Also this time she did not let me down, as the food was gorgeous as always. McSorleys and the Bernard Shaw for drinks afterwards, calling it a day not too late as Saturday morning had too much to offer just to lie idle and hungover in bed. Eggs & bacon on bread still warm from the bakery and chop chop off into the car and uphill into the Wicklow Mountains. The first 30-odd kilometres the landscape were familiar to me –as I already discovered this treasure while cycling- but after a while the rugged hills around each curve in the road held new views for me as well. Glad to be driving a Volkswagen with sturdy tires we found our way through the at times spectacular landscape, eventually arriving at Glendalough. The hike around the lake, the excellent food in the local restaurant (dinner and breakfast), even the snoring roommates and crappy shower in the hostel, they all made for a fantastic stay in the mountains. Sunday morning on the way back we dropped by the UK’s and Ireland’s largest waterfall, which really isn’t too impressive after having seen the likes of Gulfos in Iceland, and whose presence generally attracted a whole lot of plebs from town who set up tents and barbecues and treated the whole place generally as a camping. On the way back to Dublin we hit some balls at Leopard Stone’s driving range, where Koen got acquainted with the basics of golf and where Luijkx got himself a double hernia by wielding golf balls with crude swings into the ether, looking more like a logger in the Amazon than a golf player. He did reach farthest though. Sunday evening featured live music, first in my favourite bar in Dublin and later on by the same band somewhere more downtown. We concluded the night in a Brazilian salsa bar and had obtained enough need for sleep to sleep in till noon the next day. Brunch in the bright sun in Ranelagh and off they went, into a cab, and back to the Netherlands. Admittedly I did give them a proper taste of Ireland, but what made the weekend such a great one was their presence. Good friendships last over time, and the fewer you get to see one another, the more intensely you enjoy their presence. Thanks for coming over guys!