Nice and other nice moments of the past week

My new life is so full of happenings and events that I may as well continue where I stopped at my last blog post; the Wednesday that Koen left Dublin for the Netherlands. Swapping conventional weeks and weekends my days at the office last week counted two as Friday morning my plane to Nice was scheduled to depart at the very reasonable hour of 10 in the morning. After playing my second game of tag rugby ever the preceding evening (loads of fun!) and packing my bags (this has become a weekly routine by now) I boarded the Aer Lingus flight to the South of France where proper summer weather and five alive souvenirs from India were awaiting me. After some determined organising I had managed to get Vasiliki, Dana, Johan, Wojtek and Marieke to agree on a date and a destination for a true Kalkagi 2008 reunion! In order to get everyone on board, this weekend had been organised months in advance (‘I agree, September is ridiculous Tony’) and now the time was finally there. Aurelien from France and Javed from India also joined Saturday evening which made the whole thing an even bigger success. 

All in all the weekend featured sipping wine in the pretty alleys of Cannes, indiscriminately roaming the wide streets of Nice, eating ice creams a few times a day, good clubbing at night, taking random pictures of quasi-random but actually carefully orchestrated street life, hanging out at our lovely AirB&B stay (thanks Linda!), but above all, enjoying the company of the people with whom I lived together in India. Sharing an apartment in a city like New Delhi for half a year goes further than just sharing the same roof. It means living with people who, every day, just like you, experience the horrors and splendour that living in an Indian megacity entails. It creates a bond that hasn’t wavered in seven years, and I think I can speak for all of us to say that this true reunion of friends really made the weekend the success it was.   

Upon return in dark and dreary Dublin, where incessant rainfall accompanied me all the way home from the airport, I instantly caught a cold as my body had naturally assumed that summer (in Nice it was 25 degrees vs 11 in Dublin) was there to stay. No, it wasn’t. The weather in Dublin has been quite horrible so far in 2015, bar the Easter weekend which I spent in snowy Poland. Joy.

However, things have changed for the better, with the first proper days of spring today and yesterday! And I must say I have been enjoying the sun to the fullest today, playing football in Fairview park with a colourful bunch of lads from all over the world, in what is –weather permitting- a recurring event every Saturday. The third night out in four days yesterday evening however put a slight drag on my stamina and left me out of breath more than once, but this didn’t make me enjoy the brilliant blue sky, radiant sun, and good game of football any less. Goodbye drinks for Guilherme on Tuesday with the house in Blackbird made for a lovely evening out, although I must admit that you do notice three pints of IPA the next morning. Wednesday I managed to go to sleep at a decent hour without actually touching any alcohol, a buffer which I needed as Thursday night featured beer and vodka shots at Nina’s place after our first drink in the Bernard Shaw. My company for the evening consisted of Nina and her housemate Clare, plus Anika who was visiting us from Bundoran. As you can imagine Friday wasn’t an altogether productive day at the office and plans were to stay at home and chill out, until I got a text message from Aidan inviting me to the Tap House. With himself and Tita, Eoin, Diarmaid and Padraic it was another enjoyable night out in great company. Luckily I could sleep in this morning, whereas tonight is all about chilling out ;)

Going West

Calling it a long weekend would be a bit of a stretch, as our trip started Friday at noon and ended Wednesday morning. A short week, yes, that sounds much better. And to be honest, due to the variety of activities we undertook and places we visited, it felt like a good few weeks that we were on the road. Proper traveling, with nothing booked beyond the first two nights and an ever changing plan, fuelled by new ideas and changes in the ever fickle weather, made for an entertaining journey. Our shiny means of transport contrasted nicely with our budget accommodation, although we always opted for an ensuite twin room (or booked a dorm room for ourselves when that wasn’t available ;)) in hostels. But in the end, even when considering all the spectacular views, great food, good clubbing and rewarding hiking, it was very much the great company that made the trip such a success.

The journey started Friday around noon in the pouring rain in Dublin; rain which accompanied us all the way to the west where it finally ceased when we reached Ennis late afternoon. The rather plain and uninspiring hostel made for a stark contrast with the restaurant with which it shared a name and a roof, which with its high ceilings, wide open windows overlooking the river, and great food was the perfect venue to start the weekend in style. A few pints in a cosy, wood-paneled pub with a huge bar and some mediocre life music made for the zenith of the night, as our last drinks in the Yolo (including pink tree) cannot be described as a massive success:

Teun: ‘Could I have two glasses of Yellow Spot please’

Barmaid: …

Teun: ‘What whiskey do you have?’

Barmaid: ‘Jameson and Jack Daniels’

Koen: ‘Well let’s go for Jack Daniels then’

Barmaid: ‘There you go’ (pouring the whiskey in a soda glass filled with ice cubes)

Which might have been for the better as both the breakfast in the hostel (served early) and the parking meter (free parking till 9 am or so) incentivised us to rise and shine early. Well… in hindsight it was really the parking meter and not the breakfast that was worth getting up for. Whatever I did manage down my throat however proved valuable energy as neither Koen nor I had really thought ahead which left us leaving the car in the middle of the Burren without any food or water for our 2.5 hour hike and really only a titbit of toast in our bellies. The beautiful landscape and decent weather were more than enough to keep us going however and after a good few hours through the rocky, hilly and very much un-Irish landscape we returned to the car, now very much looking forward to a decent meal. And a decent meal we got! Another winner in a village I forgot the name of served a substantial fish & chips dish (Koen) and a massive salmon salad (Teun) nomnom which left us well equipped for an easy-going stroll at the cliffs of moher. Touristy but nevertheless quite impressive the cliffs made for a nice and relaxed afternoon programme after which we drove to Ennistymon where we checked into the best accommodation of the trip.

Ennistymon, with its 900 inhabitants, doesn’t have loads of accommodation. But this unit, right behind the (small) waterfalls that make for a somewhat noisy and continuous lullaby at night, had it all going for it. Heated by a big stove in the middle of the room, with art on the walls and a guitar player providing background music in the corner, the common room was warm and cosy, with the food (breakfast as well as dinner) an absolute winner. The lamb shank with mashed potato that constituted my meal that Saturday evening went very well with a bottle of red wine and provided a good buffer for the pints that were to follow. The rooms on the third floor, up a creaky staircase, were spacious and spotlessly clean and had great views over the river. After dinner Koen and I followed the LP’s advice into a pub that was supposedly good for whiskey. Well, let’s call that an understatement. Your man had a massive selection of all sorts of whiskey, as well as a very outspoken opinion regarded the contents (‘Yellow Spot, that’s full of honey, that’s why girls like it’ – my favourite!!). We spent an hour sipping gorgeous liquids and learning loads of stuff that I already forgot the details of and left with a very warm and satisfied feeling. Again the pre-last pub was sort of the zenith of the night as the place we ended the night in was admittedly cool because of the throng of locals hanging out there but with an average age of 45 maybe a bit quiet for our Saturday night. Well, what else would you expect in a village of 900 people. Fortunately there’s always Galway to make up for lost ground over the weekend.

Wait, before we go there, some text on the stunning vistas we got to enjoy Sunday during the day. Again the LP wasn’t lying when it said that the ‘scenic loop’ down Loop Head was an understatement. Maybe I had better let the pictures do the talking. Let’s just say that I thought I had by now seen the prettiest parts of Ireland. I hadn’t and probably still haven’t. The cliffs in the south of Clare are of a stunning beauty and rank among the most beautiful natural wonders I have ever seen in my life. Amazing.

Monday morning we woke up with throbbing heads and sore throats, and even by now we haven’t figured out which one of the 17 pints we shared between the two of us was the culprit of all this suffering. A few hours before this rather unwelcome awakening the world was at its most beautiful however; with a spectacular band and a full dance floor I it was Saturday night fever all over again, despite it being a Sunday evening. To be honest my reception of people’s enthusiasm about Galway had always been a bit skeptical; the times that I had been there it hadn’t impressed me at all. Well, that was because I hadn’t been there properly. This time, I loved it. And I’m going back. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Koen ends up visiting Galway again as well, as he might have loved it even more than I did. No pictures this time, just memories of a memorable night.

Where Galway was not part of the initial plan, insofar that existed, at least it was sort of on the route of the initial plan. Westport wasn’t. And climbing Croagh Patrick wasn’t at all. But that’s what came out of my mouth all of a sudden when we were considering plans for Monday afternoon, while sipping our coffees at the coffee bar downstairs the great hostel we stayed at. We could also climb a mountain. As Koen’s hangover wasn’t much better than mine his answer surprised me a little. Yes let’s do it. Ok. Off we go, into the car, navigation turned on, and up north! Please see the results below. Thanks for the great trip Koen!

p.s. Frank, she was 39!

Changes

Inspired by the events of 06-05-2015

`Invictus`

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

Three cities, three reunions, one great trip

Due to some unforeseen events I suddenly found myself with an unscheduled Easter weekend two weeks ago. With tickets to the Netherlands prohibitively expensive I impulsively decided that Poland could make for a nice destination for the long weekend, in order to spend some time with friends I hadn´t seen in way too long. What I hadn´t realised is the significance of the Easter celebrations in Poland, which made for a deep dive into Polish culture with grandparents, aunts and uncles suddenly finding a tall Dutch lad at their Easter lunch. How generously I was welcomed by my friends and their families is a token of Polish hospitality and it is with a warm and happy feeling that I now look back at a great long weekend that has just come to its end.

Katowice & Edyta

Whereas the last time I had seen Edyta was ‘only’ about a year ago, that get-together took place in Wroclow. Now, in Katowice, where I spent 4 of the best months of my life in an Erasmus exchange in 2006 (bloody hell), the venue was perfect for reviving the past and enjoying the present. Our Ligota dorm appeared virtually unchanged from 9 years ago, with even the same old lady occupying the reception at the main entrance, blatantly defying a ‘no smoking’ sign on the wall behind her while puffing away a package of cigarettes. As she allowed me to wander around the dormitory for a while I checked on the kitchen where Stefan and I used to make our potato & salmon dishes, passed by the toilet out of which I had to free myself by kicking in the door after the lock had jammed, and lingered in front of room 408 where Marisa, Delphine, Stefan and I used to spend most of our evenings. Despite the current-day Erasmus students still occupying the place, living in Ligota isn’t the same anymore as Kwadraty (the basement club) had recently been closed, in an effort to instill some peace and quiet on the area during week as well as weekend nights. Such a shame.

2015

2007

Apart from visiting Ligota I paid Silecia city centre a visit Friday afternoon while Edyta was working from home, buying myself a nice pair of leather shoes that are nigh impossible to find in Dublin, and checked on Dworzec PKP. The train / bus station used to be a bulwark of concrete and steel, with ramshackle old buses bumping along the pothole-filled roads in and out of the open air terminal. Even though Edyta had warned me that the place had undergone a complete transformation, it took me a while to realise that I was actually at the same place when looking for a tram to the Silecia city centre. A shiny new mall borders the newly paved pedestrian area that leads up to the entrance of the completely renovated train station. The dark and moist interior, with its fair share of homeless people always occupying the corners and empty beer cans littering the floor, has given away to a shiny new area with neat shops, vending machines and ticket corners. While the transformation is definitely an improvement I couldn’t suppress a sting of nostalgia when thinking of how the place used to look when I changed from bus to tram every day on my way to university.

With the ‘new Kwadraty’ which Edyta initially had had in mind being closed on Friday night because of the Easter break, we opted for the jazz club which appeared unchanged from my last visit nine years ago. On two big soft chairs, with generous cocktails in a dimly lit corner, it almost felt like nothing had changed in all those years.

Poznan & Olga

After 5 hours on the train I arrived in Poznan at around three in the afternoon on Saturday. While I hadn’t seen Olga since a sunny Friday afternoon in 2010 when we met in Antwerp for some drinks, it felt more like five months rather than five years since that last encounter. TIPC part I (total immersion into Polish culture) started shortly after Olga picked me up from the train station as we were due to attend a family lunch at her parents’ place. Funnily enough I had been to her parents’ house before, shortly after our summer university in 2007 when Piotr, Piotr, Olga, Domenika, Lauryna and I organised a reunion in Poznan. The traditional Polish dishes prepared by Olga’s mother, who even seemed to remember me after all those years, were mouth-watering and I tremendously enjoyed the wide variety of food that was spread out over the table. After a small glass of home-made sherry liquor I bade my farewells to Olga’s family and we made our way into town.

2015

2007

Despite the temperature being in the lower single digits, Olga’s repeated references to a wide variety of supposedly great-tasting ice cream had actually led me to look forward to a cone, so you can imagine our disappointment when finding out that the place was actually closed (not because of the weather but because of the Easter break). Well, I guess I’ll have to come back for that one another time! After a walk in the park and a cup of tea with slices of mango at Olga’s apartment we headed for the city centre, which appeared unusually quiet for a Saturday night. The three bars we attended for three craft beers were all great places to hang out, even though ‘the Dragon’ was admittedly my favourite, with bare brick walls, non-matching chairs and tables, floor luminaires, and a dragon’s head sprouting from the wall above the bar. These great venues in even better company made the option of missing my bus at midnight a very tempting one and it was with great reluctance that I made my way to the bus terminus shortly before twelve o’clock. As both bus Polski and I were on time however I did find myself in a semi-comfortable chair shortly after midnight, trying to find a position which would allow me to catch some sleep, as another full programme was awaiting me on Sunday in Gdansk!

Gdansk & Karolina

As with Olga, Karolina and I met at an AEGEE summer university. Curiously however, after having spent the FinEst Fairytale 2009 together, both of us (without knowing it from one another) applied and were accepted for the 2011 summer university in Messina, Sicily. Now, four years after our last encounter, and for the first time in a non-AEGEE setting, Gdansk was the venue for another reunion. My 5 hours spent on bus Polski didn’t make for the best of nights' sleep and I was delighted to find a bed prepared for me at Karolina’s (amazing, new & spotlessly clean) apartment when I arrived at 5 in the morning. Two hours later I was woken up with sandwiches and tea (save the appetite for the family breakfast in an hour’s time) and off we went to the cottage where Karolina’s parents and brother spent the weekend. 

2015

2011

The cottage is about an hour’s drive from Gdansk and has a lovely view over a lake with forest in the background. Again I was spoiled with delicious traditional Polish dishes, including Karolina’s first attempt at making zurek (which was very tasty but had a slightly different flavour from the conventional variant) and a wide variety of meat and pastries. Some fresh air and kite-flying at the shore of the lake after breakfast completed the morning whereafter Karolina showed me around Gdansk. An old Hanze town, Gdansk has a gorgeous old city centre which, despite the destruction of WW II, has retained its old glory. After roaming the streets and learning about the city’s history we agreed we had deserved a break from the cold and sat down in a cosy and warm tea house which served super tasty and significantly over-sized apple pie, especially considering what we had already eaten that morning! 

After some further sightseeing we stocked up on alcohol for the night, which started off with a house party not far away from the city centre. As with all good house parties the neighbours starting complaining early enough however they were convinced not to call the policy which saved us a 500 zloty fine. The night came to its zenith at Absinth, a cool albeit slightly alternative club in the old town, with huge windows overlooking the square. Dancing on the tables we could see the snow raging outside which made for a curious sensation as temperatures inside were understandably high and rising. It was late enough when Karolina finally convinced me to call it a day, the consequences of which I had to bear 3 hours later when she woke me up for my taxi to the airport. Not being able to get more than a bite of bread down my throat I might still have been drunk rather than hungover but I managed to keep it all in during the long long way home to Dublin. Karolina, thanks for the lovely stay, our next reunion will be sooner than in four years’ time!

London

The decision was a very impulsive one, last Wednesday night, when I decided that a weekend in London, with two of my favourite people, was just what I needed. An app message to Dana and a phone call with Vasiliki (after three failed attempts) was all that was required to get my ducks in a row. A mere hour after the thought had first struck my mind I had booked a return ticket to London City airport that will resonate in next month’s credit card statements. It was definitely worth it.

Flight times were perfect and allowed me a full 48 hours on the ground, although I must admit I was a bit sleepy this morning after coming home from the airport only after midnight on Sunday. The fun started around half nine in the evening on Friday, after a very swift journey from Dublin (bus, flight, DLR, walk) got me to Vasiliki’s former apartment where her former flatmates were hosting a house party. After some alcohol infused-plumb and a catch-up with Michael we set off towards Vasiliki’s new apartment close to Victoria. Its location in a retirement home might suggest that it is not the liveliest of places however I am confident that whatever peace and quiet once prevailed is now gone with the Greek invasion. The absolute cherry on the cake is their massive roof terrace that allows for barbeques, roof top parties, and a lovely breakfast on the first day of spring (that’s what we did). Well, technically speaking we ate the supposed-to-be breakfast that Friday night just before toasting to a new get-together along with Vasiliki’s Greek flatmate Nick who had savoured a few cans of Guinness for the occasion. The usual ‘see you some other time this year hopefully’ the next morning was replaced by a ‘see you tomorrow’  which sounded a lot better and with that cheerful thought on my mind I got myself a Dublin eh Barclays bike and set off towards Soho.

 Apart from the quality time with two very good friends I tremendously enjoyed cycling through London. It brought back happy memories of the autumn of 2012 when I spent 3 months in The City and travelled almost everywhere by bike, avoiding the tube and buses wherever possible. The concept still worked and I was pleasantly surprised at how well I still knew my way around, hardly requiring the help of maps to cycle from the river to Soho square, from Euston station to Vasiliki’s apartment and from her apartment to Lime House DLR station. London is a place I feel super comfortable in, a city where you easily blend in and quickly feel at home. And I could not have wished for a better day to zigzag my way around cars, tourists, lorries and past traffic lights than this gorgeous sunny Saturday.

I had deliberately scheduled in plenty of time to make my way to Soho and the last forty minutes before reuniting with Dana I spent on a bench in Soho park, gazing at the grand old buildings around me, reading in the Economist I had brought along, and watching people saunter by. The restaurant Dana had in mind for lunch (Barrafina) proved an excellent choice and was well worth the twenty minutes or so we had to queue before getting a seat at the L-shaped bar. Chilled white wine and a selection of gorgeous tapas in a lively setting smack in the middle of Soho, with sunlight pouring in through the big windows and a pleasant spring breeze drifting in through the open doors, all contributed to a very enjoyable lunch experience. The next winner was our visit to the British museum. Dana realised to her surprise that she had been there before, initially assuming that she hadn’t. The building is admittedly a bit bland and unassuming and one mightn’t recall having visited it earlier on, as the below picture would suggest ;)

While Dana roamed from Ethiopia to Coptic Egypt to the mummies, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the fascinating Napoleon era exhibition that had original caricatures from British and French newspapers at the time on display. I found it a great way to relive history as each print had a brief explanation proving concise background while the drawings and my imagination did the rest. Around five the museum closed and after some brief shopping we set off towards Camden where we attended a live music performance. The four musicians’ talent in playing the guitar, mandolin, spoons, washboard, banjo and cello (right Dana?) was fortunately superior to their choice of clothes (admittedly the folk singer’s prerogative) and the evening flew by. After a very fulfilling kebab and a ghetto music dominated uber ride back home to Dana’s I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

 Sunday was luckily void of any hangover symptoms and after a very nutritious breakfast I took a train back to London and a bike to Vasiliki’s place. The poor girl had been struck by a cold but the coughing and sneezing was ably cured by some herb instilled raki and the most authentic noodle soup I have had since returning from Sanmenxia in June 2009. We found the Chinese food stall in the middle of an open market place in Brixton, an edgy yet colourful neighbourhood a few tube stops south of Victoria. The open market was a treat for the senses, with Japanese, African, Arabian, and Chinese as well as more domestically oriented food stalls serving very tasty and reasonably priced dishes. The scene was a mix of languages, flavours, colours, different flags and banners, stalls with fresh food and fish, vendors selling bags and scarfs and hipsters drinking coffee, making me very eager to embark on a new foreign adventure to far-away destinations. After lunch Vasiliki insisted on visiting the ‘hill of Brixton’ which appeared a bland, wind-swept park (admittedly on top of a hill) where some local kids were playing football and a woman walked her tiny dog. The bus ride back to her place felt a bit like a (near free) sightseeing tour and the rest of the afternoon was spent watching the European championship in athletics in a very cosy and warm living room, on a soft couch and with a mug of tea. Mmmmm way too cosy and relaxed to leave just when it was getting dark around six in the evening :( A last hug and chop chop on a Barclays bike, cycling via the office and the apartment I used to live to Lime House, catching the DLR and being at the airport way too early (as always), listening to the Economist audio version and already reminiscing the fantastic weekend that had just come to an end. Vasiliki, Dana, thank you so much for the lovely time! See you both in Nice :D

Reunion of former housemates

The track record wasn’t altogether convincing, with one single lunch sometime 18 months ago in Utrecht comprising the only time Marjolein and I had seen one another since I left our shared apartment and we ceased to be house mates. That was in The Hague, February 2013, two years ago by now. Haphazard Facebook messages once every so often with response rates ranging from a few weeks to a few months weren’t too encouraging either, and the oblivious outsider might have thought that a friendship built up over the course of a year at the Westduinweg was not to last. Well, such premature thinking was decisively proven wrong over the course of the weekend that is just coming to an end. Marjolein’s stay in Dublin, from Friday early afternoon until 48 hours later, was very much reflective of a joyful reunion of former housemates, with plenty of stories to tell, questions to ask, slagging to be exchanged and catching-up to do. And in the spirit of my departure two years ago, when we voiced our ambitions to do some cool hikes together somewhere in the British Isles, the weekend wasn’t only about eating and drinking. Let’s recap.

Friday afternoon, after the girl had finally reached our office walking from College Green to Christchurch all the way to the canal and finally past the Barge to Charlemont Place, we set out for some proper Dublin sightseeing. Or well… showing her the Church for a Belgian beer and a diet coke (we’re in Ireland lassie), the Bank for a few pints of Guiness (uglch – really??) / glasses of Carlsberg and Against the Grain for a lovely burger and some more pints / diet coke mightn’t constitute the typical sightseeing tour but definitely got her a flavour of the real Dublin. The afternoon and evening flew by until we called it a day after our last Belgian beer at Blackbird and tucked in for the night, knowing that Saturday morning would be an early morning.

Driving through the Wicklow Mountains down south early on Saturday wasn’t as enjoyable or exciting as I had hoped. Thick clouds restricted our view beyond a hundred metres or so, and the stunning vistas I knew were there remained hidden behind a curtain of fog. Bummer. If conditions didn’t improve our hike in Glendalough could become as ordinary as anywhere uninspiring with the best of the Wicklow Mountains obscured by nature’s fickle temperament. No rain isn’t the only condition for an enjoyable walk! Luckily the sun emerged as we approached our destination and plenty of blue sky appeared through the slowly receding clouds. Ireland again proved unpredictable but rewarding!

‘At first I thought, nice lake, cute walk, but nothing spectacular. You know. But when we reached the top of the cliffs, with views of the lake and the surrounding mountains…’ I knew that the scenery that reveals itself after the brief but steep climb would impress me again, almost two years after I completed the loop for the first time. And rightly so I expected the girl to be excited as well, although I hadn’t foreseen her zeal in tiptoeing as close to deer as possible so as to capture them, still from afar, with her smartphone camera. Without zoom function. More stunning vistas, lovely fresh mountain air, a few snowballs that missed their targets by a league, and ever more pictures made up the remainder of our walk and it was with much post-hike satisfaction that we checked into our lodge late in the afternoon. Very conveniently located next to the awesome Heather restaurant Marjolein and I were lucky enough to get a lovely little apartment which was cosy and warm upon arrival. Three hours of reading, showering and napping constituted the perfect reward of our efforts and fully refreshed we sat down for dinner at eight in the evening. The great food and spotless service proved that my happy memories of dining there two years ago with Koen and Luijkx were rightly so positive and three and a half hours later just after we had finished our complementary Baileys it was time to tuck in for the night. The ‘full Irish’ that Marjolein had been talking about from Friday afternoon was finally served Sunday morning and kept us going until well into the afternoon. Driving back the same route we now did see all the cool mountain scenery around us and we couldn’t help but stop a few times in order to appreciate the tranquillity that the landscape around us inspired, only partially spoiled by empty beer cans that plebs must have left behind when roaming the area. One last cup of tea at home and tjop tjop Marjolein on the bus and back on the plane to the Netherlands. Our next reunion shall definitely be sooner than after 18 months and I must admit I already look forward to it! Thanks for visiting kid!

An individual experience in a group setting

‘It’s like a bunch of people in a completely dark room. And they’re all dancing. And you can’t see anyone.’

It was once of those rare occasions that Liadh had ventured downstairs to the canteen with us. It usually made for entertaining conversations over lunch, and this time was no different.

‘And why is it completely dark?’

While I can’t remember how we ended up talking about this rather atypical event, what does stand me by is that it took me a while to comprehend what she was describing. That is, if I ever really got it before experiencing the whole thing myself.

‘Yeah so nobody can see how you dance. You can be as wild or crazy as you wish. There’s no dress code, no particular kind of people, no alcohol.’

No alcohol? This started to sound rather outlandish. I’ve been in Dublin for two years by now and every social gathering of sorts I attended here has involved alcohol. Pints, usually. Pints of Guinness. And always more than the ‘just one’ that invariably captures the (supposed) intention ex ante.

‘That sounds … different. And you’ve been there before?’

‘Yes a while back. It’s on again next Wednesday, I’ll be going with a few palls of mine’.

With my fork I prodded the potato variant on my plate. Croquettes, baked, chips, boiled (warm), boiled (cooled down and mixed in a salad), mashed, small, big, concealed in a fisherman’s pie, hidden in murky soup, or all of the above; the daily menu in the canteen features plenty of potato-based dishes. No wonder that Liadh only comes down for the occasional taster.

‘You are welcome to come with us if you wish?’

While working on the vast amount of starch on my plate the idea slowly took hold.

That was last week. Let’s rewind another week, to the date of my last blog post, and to my explicit intention to live up to the virtues I constantly proclaim. Change is good. New is always better. Don’t stick to routines. Live. Go out. Explore.

Well, to be honest, and it wasn’t always the most intuitive thing to do, the past weeks I have lived up to these ambitions. I must admit that the absence of the girlfriend is of course a huge stimulus. Or I should rather say, her presence usually makes me feel too snug and cosy at home to leave the house every evening. Now, in an empty apartment, the incentives to go out and do new things are very much there. Even in this dark, windy and cold weather, which usually makes you think twice about heading out. So, with Bo coming back tomorrow evening, this is a natural moment to reflect. I did join the gym, where I took classes in aeroboxing (really entertaining, especially with Erle as an invigorating instructor), TRX, and ‘functional gym’. My very first salsa lesson was a fact last Tuesday, whereas I went to see Wild in the cinema with Aidan on Wednesday. The Friday prior I got introduced to a bunch of Jesus’s colleagues on a drink they had organised, and I kick started plans for a Kalkaji reunion in May and a surf trip in April. Today’s mad experience with Liadh and her friends was the cherry on the cake in terms of taking on new stuff. Well? New is always better. I loved it.

Liadh’s friends are a welcoming and entertaining crowd, as I found out over dinner at Bobos an hour before the dancing was to commence. Among them was a girl very much Australian in appearance and speech, although she insisted she is Irish. And a guy who, while sipping his pint of juice, was telling about the juice-based diet that had caught his attention. And how he was intrigued by a South-London taxi driver who cycled to Brighton and back without stretching, because of his vegan diet. There were six of us in total, and luckily I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t got a clue of what awaited them.

The welcoming words of the organiser proved very accurate, as I realised a few minutes later after having descended the stairs into what appeared like a huge, dark basement. The soft and relaxing music, the sort that you might expect at a Thai massage place, which had welcomed us while shuffling into the large dark area, soon gave way to the first energising beats. The tiny, softly glowing yellow lights that shone here and there from the wall were dimmed during the second song, and while my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, all I could really see now were moving shadows. Shadows bouncing and jumping, raving and clapping, rapturous, dreamy, floating, pounding… everyone in their own flow, everybody expressing how the music affected them, what it did to them, and how they wanted to show that… without anyone seeing… while being in the middle of a crowd. An individual experience in a group setting, I could not have described it any better myself. Every song brought a new rhythm, a new surge of energy, another flow, other moves, other thoughts. The brief silence between tracks was filled with cheering and clapping. While I knew the whole experience would only last an hour, I hadn’t got a watch to track the time, and for what must have been the last fifteen minutes or so I anxiously awaited the first beats of a new song, knowing once I heard them that there was at least three or four more minutes to dance. As I learnt later over water and pineapple, while exchanging our positive experiences, this was only the second time the event was held. There’s no set date or time, so you have to keep an eye on any announcements. Which I will. Next time I am definitely there. In a different outfit. Cause really, what good are a smart shirt and trousers which prevent you from bending your knees all the way? Next time it’s tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. Dancing in the dark, I love it.   

(group pic on the dance floor)