Due to Extreme Adverse Weather...

Yesterday was beautiful. Well raining in the morning, but a crisp spring day nonetheless. After success in the classroom and another meeting, I decided I'd get outside and go for a run. Now you know when I'm feeling adventurous when a run is my afternoon activity, but why not. I decided to just walk/run around the outskirts of campus, through some forest perserve area, near the UCD Bowl, and a few laps around the track. It was relaxing and it felt good to get moving. Came home, showered, made dinner, did homework. I'm all grown up.

Today I woke up to snow. Yep, snow. It rarely ever snows in Dublin, much less in late March. Now I'm not saying there was snow on the ground. More like wet flakes that didn't stick. I walked to class laughing, hello Chicago weather, I didn't miss you. I had another early presentation so I was at Quinn by 8:15. The Dubliners not so much a fan of the snow either. On my way home I ran into my entourage of companions, okay so just Jen and my french roommate Stephanie. But they both gave me the shoulder shrug and the "what on earth is this?" face. Enough to make me laugh and forget about how bloody freezing I was. Given the inhospitable weather and my early mornings I somehow managed to fall asleep on my bed. It was one of those good naps where you wake up with the lines on your face.

Best part of the day, my evening lecture was cancelled "Due to Extreme Adverse Weather". No snow as even on the ground. We get 20 inches in Champaign and they still make us haul it to class in our snow boots. Dublin, I like your style. I really didn't want to go out in that rainy/snowy slush anyway.

Spring has Sprung

I'm one of those people who can't pick a favorite season. I love the summer for the sunshine and the sand and the boatrides. I love winter for the purity of the snowfall and the hot chocolate. Fall always captures my heart with the beautiful colors, and the pumpkins. And spring, for that feeling you get on the first warm day of the year. The feeling of endless possibility. That after all the cold and the darkness and the grey, that sunshine appears, and life emerges, and the world fills with color. That feeling has lasted all weekend, as I take every opportunity to seize the Dublin days as they dwindle and fall in love with all shades of green.

Yesterday, I got the chance to go hiking with the study abroad students in the Wicklow Mountains at Glendalough. We took a bus from UCD at 10:30, of which I slept and listened to my IPod. We toured the monastery dated back thousands of years after watching a video about the history behind it. It's basically a graveyard now, and it was somewhat strange to walk through it. All those gravestones, symbols of lives lived and loved ones lost.

All the baby sheep had just been born like a week ago. I wanted to keep one. All looked like little Lamp Chops... (the TV show, not the dinner)

We had somewhat of a picnic lunch, some girls played tag, we sang Lizzie McGuire, just another careless day. We walked around and I laid in the grass in the sun watching the wind blow by and the clouds dance in the sky. I could have fallen asleep in that perfect golf course green grass in the sun, but then it was time to hike. We had an older man as a guide but he was a diehard with his camelback and his zip off pants. He took us through the monastery and then through the woods. Like off the path, up a muddy hill, working the muscles for sure. We walked down the mountain towards the Upper Glendalough, so perfect it looked fake.

Then up another hill to a waterfall and around and back to the entrance. A two hour hike through the beautiful Irish forests. I can't describe it any better than the pictures can. Just beautiful. Peaceful. Serene.

As I walked through the path eating my apple (Pink Ladies, my favorite) I wonder why people spend so much time indoors. I'm not saying I'm about to pick up and hike around the streets of Mundelein, but the more time I spend outside the clearer life gets. Like its so easy to get wrapped up in your own life when you are in your own house, in your own room, in your own world. It's almost as if being outside reminds you of the world, big and immense, and that it'll continue to spin regardless. "I'm just hanging on as this old world keeps spinning and it's good to know it's out of my control and if there's one thing I've learned from all this living, it's that it wouldn't change a thing if I let go." Any day that can be summed up in Jimmy Buffet lyrics is a good day indeed.

All that fresh air wore me out and I spent the rest of the evening lounging. Only to wake up late and do the same thing. Dublin sprung its clocks ahead back to 6 hours ahead of Chicago so I lost an hour. (I am not sure why the whole world can't just do it on the same day). The sun was shining and it was time for a little spring cleaning. Time to open the windows (the whole 2 inches they open), turn off the heat, and clean up my room. It's been a mess since getting home from Spring Break. Taking advantage of the beautiful Dublin day, I hiked myself up the road to the grocery store. I was in desperate need of nail polish remover and some more rations for the week. I ended up with some cleaning supplies, face wash, nail polish remover, pears, blueberries, pasta, tomato sauce, yogurt, granola, and some digestives. A successful trip. I took a new way home, one of my favorite things to do.

The Irish Countryside (from the bus ride)

I got home and cleaned and vaccummed and put away my groceries and had some yogurt, fruit and granola for lunch. Before I knew it, it was time for my group meeting. We have a group presentation tomorrow and given that no UCD buildings are open on Sundays, something that still blows my mind since that's the day everyone studies... we planned to meet at 5 at one of the guys house' off campus. Worldwide guys living together means disaster. Eavan, the other girl in the group, picked up me and Stevie. We ended up working on the project for 4 hours, most of which was spent chatting about random things, like how the Irish love Lucky Charms but a box is like 8 euro ($11 America dollars or more) or about how they have TV license inspectors and how some people don't buy the license so they have to hide from the inspectors. I love the Irish. They are just so fun and lighthearted and easy going. We ended up ordering pizza and sitting on the floor eating and talking. Reminded me of being at home with my friends working on homework. We finally finished at like 9:15 and Eavan took us home. All in all it was a good study time and we got our work done while having a little craic.

Time to finish up the rest of my homework and go to bed. Early morning tomorrow.

I Dedicated Today to Lindsay Bucholz

I'm at the point in my trip where I'm torn between wanting to go home and wanting to stay forever. But most of me knows that the vacation can't last forever. And all of me knows that my life is with the people that I love. People that I miss everyday. That's just who I am. A home body.

So it seemed today, that Lindsay must have been thinking about me because everything reminded me of her.

I got up in the morning, did some homework, and headed into the city with Laura so she could get her hair cut. Both Claire and Laura accompanied me on my adventure to get mine cut at the Naturelle Salon on Dorset Lane, so it seemed appropriate to accompany Laura. Plus it was a (somewhat) sunny day in Dublin and you always take advantage of those. After the slow bus ride, we got off, and hiked up the road to the salon. I sat on the couch and caught up on my Marie Claires while Laura got her hair cut. Then it was off to Phoenix Park.

Phoenix Park is Europe's largest enclosed park, and large it is. We walked around it for a bit, but not even close to seeing half of it. We sat on the park bench and ate some hobnobs and enjoyed the day. Spring has sprung in Dublin, everything was beginning to bud, and Daffodils were everywhere. Kids were running and playing in the park. There were even swans. I just wanted to lay in the grass listening to my ipod in the grass. But the grass was kind of muddy and wet, and I wasn't feeling that. The grass reminded me of golf course grass, short and unnaturally green. The type of grass you want to feel with your hands. Grass Brent would love.

We climbed up the Wellington Monument and laughed as a British woman ran up it singing the Rocky anthem. Ah American culture everywhere. There was lots of park to see so we decided to walk around a bit. We only walked through parts of the park, which reminded me more of a forest preserve than a park. As we were walking through this field, we noticed something in a distance. A pack of deer. And when I say pack, I mean like 40. All feeding on the grass, totally oblivious to us. We got pretty close to them, but didn't dare move any closer for fear of antler ramming. I'm not sure if that actually happens, but not something I want to chance. We continued walking through the very poop pellet infested fields.

We kept walking and found ourselves on the outskirts of the Dublin Zoo. Today is the day we wanted to sneak into the zoo. Not feeling quite that bad ass, we just continued walking. I managed to see a tiger, seals, and those little penguins through the fence. Success. We finally got back on the bus and headed home. We did some window shopping on Grafton Street, mostly shoes. The live musicians were out in full force. Seriously one of the best parts of Dublin. By the time we got back to the bus we were exhausted and chilly and hungry. I was looking forward to a Centra pizza but we ran into Claire on the bus and she informed me Centra doesn't make pizza after 6 on Fridays. Fail. It was 7. I was not pleased. Laura said she had never seen me so snappy (in a kidding way) and I quickly responded "no food equals bad mood". But all in good fun, we laughed and pushed each other like schoolchildren as we made our way to get some dinner. A microwave Weight Watchers dinner was no pizza but it was food so whatever. I made it in Laura's apartment and then dyed Laura's hair for her, reminsicing about the time we dyed Carrie's hair that beautiful orangey color.

Exhausted from a long week, I'm going to lay in bed and watch Everwood.

Yep, a day dedicated to Lindsay.

I'd add pictures but I'm too lazy. Procrastination, wonder where I got that one from too?

The Land Down Under Vs. The Land of Crop Circles?!

I spent the majority of my week at the UCD Library. Me and James Joyce got pretty close. I put on my study face, plugged in my headphones, loaded up on study snacks (apples & blueberries, thanks to my earlier trip to the market) and made things happen. After a week of academic domination, it was time to celebrate life in Dublin and enjoy it while we can.

Now I have spoken highly of my favorite Australian mate Laura who brings such fun to the group. Plus I continuously thrive off all things Australian. This week's Australian lesson: FOOTIE. Yep, that's Australian for football. Which is neither soccer nor American football. More like every sport rolled into one. The ball is a cross between a rugby ball and a football. You have to dribble like basketball and kick like soccer. And you can tackle like football and fight like hockey. All with no pads or helmets. Talk about brutality. I'm sorry but American athletes just look like wimps after this.

After another group meeting and class and a group meeting, we met to head into the city centre on the Dub Bus. We got off and found our way thanks to Laura's navigation. I took a day off from leading the pack, and Stacy was a little frightened when I didn't assume directional control. No worries, we saw the Foster's sign and we knew we'd arrived at the Woolshed. Playing a repeat of the Footie game between Carlton and Richmond (or like we like to call them: Carl and Rich). After convincing the doorman to find us a table and get the TV to play the Aussie Rules game for us (in large part to the fact that he could tell I was an American Sorority girl from my DZ rain jacket), we sat down and ordered some dinner. We were starving. We enjoyed all the Australian references on the menu (like Chook...which is their word for Chicken?).

Laura could barely wait for us to finish ordering to start explaining the rules to us. Most important, she showed off the fine looking tan Australian men. Hmm... we all decided we've been in Ireland too long because the Australians were looking awfully good. Land of Gerald Butlers is a big fat lie, and all we see is pale boys who wear nothing but sweatpants. All the time. It seems that the concept of jeans and a casual tee was lost upon these boys. Instead they rock the track suit look and shirts that scream things like "What Woman Want". Now I'm not sure what woman said THAT was what she wanted, but if you are declaring it, I'm not believing it. Anyway, upon the confirmation of the tan and well shaped bods of the Australians, we began to plan our future trips to Australia. Now our saving for this trip will begin in small ways. Saving 20 cents on bus rides for example. Small steps.

Like I explained before, Footie is intense. Getting tackled, flying through the air, all with no pads of ANY kind on. And little shorty shorts on. After enjoying our BLTs we continued to watch the game intensely and try to figure out the rules of the game. We also noted how the referee looked like he should be working at Burger King, he was surely dressed for it. Mostly paying attention to things like how the one captain got suspended for "gauging someone's eyes" or streaking through the local casino in Melbourne. Ah Australia, how we love thee already. Except for one thing. Well maybe two. Dredlocks, don't get them, never will. But more importantly, VEGEMITE. Now this place we were at was an attempt to be an Australian Bar...and from the Foster's signs everywhere, very authentic (not). So on the menu, was vegemite and toast. Now I've never seen Laura so excited. When it came, it looked like tar. Even after seeing Stevie's face of disgust, I decided to try a bit. When I said it looked like tar, I mean it actually tasted like tar as well. Like REALLY, what is that stuff?!!? And Laura she eats it when she's not feeling well....I think that would make me more nauseous. I'll stick to my saltines and ginger ale, thank you very much.

We were having a great time and Claire, Kristina, and Carolyn stopped by. It had turned out to be a rainy Dublin night, perfect for barstooling it. We felt bad that we were occupying prime real estate, so when we saw a girl walk by with a pitcher of something fruity and frothy looking, we considered a little Thursday Happy Hour. Interested in what the woman had, Stevie did what any normal Dubliner would do, she went up and asked the woman. Within 2 minutes, I'm pretty sure Stevie had her and her husband/boyfriend/brother?!?'s life story and they offered her a taste of the drink. She chatted it up with them for a few minutes upon which I glanced over a few times, only to have the guy wink at me. Ah Dublin, how the people always surprise you. We ended up ordering this drink in pitcher form (a Foster's pitcher no less) after debating all the Woop Woop Drinks and "Shit on the Grass" shots. Some type of "Sex on the Byron Beach" mostly peach, cranberry, and orange juice I think. Pure sugar for sure. It only made us laugh harder when we discovered the place started to "smell like Berlin"...the fragrance of sewage we'd come to find in the streets of Berlin.

The footie game finished and given it was Thursday night, the Wicked Wolf in Blackrock was calling our name. We made our way in the rain to the bus stop to catch the 4 from the city centre to the Wicked Wolf. As we sat on the bus, Laura talked about her experience with America and her joyous time in Fairbury, Illinois where she "stayed in the basement all day and watched a CSI marathon" and "went to the Dairy Queen a lot". Upon asking what WE do in our free time in Illinois, we said well umm... that. CSI marathons and Dairy Queen. Not quite porcupine/kangaroo hybrids. She did ask about crop circles and bears. Umm we have neither in Champaign but good try?

And on to the Wicked Wolf. Stevie had yet to experience the joy. And she picked a good night to experience the rough side of hanging out at a local Irish establishment. The place was hopping when we arrived at 10. Now it's usually a little slow get started, but not tonight. Brock started the night out with an early dedication to Stacy, reminicising on last week, and belted out "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room" again. Wonderful. Going to be a good night already. The locals were ready to rock, and when I mean rock, I mean 4 Oasis songs in a row. We knew it was going to be a good night when some locals convinced their friend (or grandpa) Jim to get on stage and sing. Now Jim was rather drunk, like out of consciousness drunk, and he literally stumbled to the stage. His grandson basically had to hold him up there while he sang Return to Sender. Now his voice was good, but he kept messing up the words which is hard to do given they are on a screen in front of your face. It was almost painful to watch. At one point, I was afraid he was going to fall over, because he was leaning down, and I swear he was going to topple over. He did not. He returned to his seat and then I'm pretty sure Eugene called him a cab.

The locals were tearing it up (not in a good way...in a butchering "Living On A Prayer" way) and I kept looking to Brock with the "umm come on now" face. When we turned in our song slips, he moved them towards the front. He called us to the stage as his "favorite 4 girls from America" (Laura quickly corrected him) and we rocked it out to none other than Wannabe by the Spice Girls. A crowd favorite for sure, and soon all of the girls joined us on stage.The stage was flooded and we belted out "I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna really wanna zigga zigga ah". Brock put on "Oops I Did It Again" (the 2nd time I've sang that song in the Wicked Wolf) and Lauren and her flash dance ways were loving on it and us and swaying back and forth with me. She told me how brilliant it was and gave me a hug. We even got Allistar (THE X FACTOR HIMSELF) to join in with us. We definitely started the party.

Then Stevie slowed it down for a bit with some Whitney. I Will Always Love You. As one of the locals said to me "it's like watching the Bodyguard". We were slow dancing and waving our arms and singing along in support. And then Allistar got on stage and sang the one, the only, Michael Jackson "You Are Not Alone". The song I got confused with "Will You Be There?" as the Free Willy anthem. Such a jam. Both me and Brock were snapping it out and loving it. Then Allistar's love Sam got up in her combat boots and did one heck of a rendition of Beautiful by Akon. She put my rapping skills to shame. We made friends with this Australian guy who loved Stevie's voice. And then he was up, singing the one and only "I Come From The Land Down Under". Yep, we got up and danced and sang along in this little pub to "The Land Down Under" with our Aussie Mate in Dublin. It was ridiculous. We were out on the dance floor dancing, Australian style.

Maybe the follow up to the Land Down Under was even better. Barbie Girl by Aqua. Sam, Lauren, and their friend got up there and rocked it out. Ah America.

Before we knew it, it was almost 12 and Eugene was flicking the "last call" lights. Brock had promised Stacy that he would sing "The End of The Road" for her. Maybe more embarrassing (or awesome) is that Brock caught onto our X factor symbol that me and Stacy had been quick to throw up whenever necessary. And a few times we caught him doing it too. He recruited Allistar to the stage and they duetted to the End of the Road. We jammed out on the floor, belting it out.

Closing time, and we stuck around to talk with Brock. We told him about our semesters at UCD and how we are going to miss him when we go back to Chicago. He told us about his company and how maybe he will make it to Chicago one day. We promised him we would promote his future music endeavors. Then we told him about our trip to Paris next weekend but that'd we'd return the following week. Groupies for sure.

It was time for Supermac's. The late night Thursday tradition. Embarrassing that the guys working there recognized us and our good time ways. I had an ice cream cone, still full from dinner and my throat a little sore from the cold I'm fighting off and the belting of the songs. Our friends from karaoke walked in and we laughed at the fact that we know are friends with the local Thursday night karaoke goers. More or less embarrassing than the Supermac guys recognizing us? We finished our food (except for Stacy's fries, which Stevie told her to save for tomorrow??!) , and we managed to keep most of the ketchup in the appropriate places. Laura on the other hand acquired some type of "mole" on her neck and I was quick to point it out, while Stevie and Stacy thought it was an actual mole and that I was just blatantly rude.

We got into a cab (after the supermac's guy-- we should really find out his name--offered to call one for us). The guy was super friendly and we told him all about the Wicked Wolf. He wasn't familiar. He dropped us off at the Foster's Ave Gate and we walked (in that beautiful Dublin rain) to our apartments. And then all the reasons I love Laura became apparent. She found a wrapped piece of chocolate on the sidewalk (in the rain) and picked it up. We all yelled GROSS and she threw it away, but she was tempted. Someone who loves chocolate more than me, I'm not sure it's possible.

Exhausted, I crawled into bed. Another successful Dublin Night. Thursday Nights at the Wicked Wolf just make life seem so easy.

Don't Panic, It's Organic

I'm going to take a break from raving about my fantastic life of travel to discuss a favorite topic among those at home, my attempts (and failure) at domesticity.

Having completed the horrendous process of laundry yesterday, and having only pasta, butter, and garlic to my name, I decide it would be a wise idea to hit the grocery. So when my little Canadian fairy asked if I would like to accompany her to the market, I willingfully agreed. Procrastination or Productivity, you decide.

The market was only a few stops on the good ol' Dublin Bus away and offered fruits and veggies, an array of local produce, and bonus : all organic. Now given my body is my greatest resource here in Dublin given all the walking I do fueling it with products au natural seemed like a good idea. Or maybe it's all the health food tips flying into my inbox teaching me about the Solutions of life. Don't get excited, I didn't purchase any fresh Kale at the market B, but small steps. After loading up on an array of fruits (apples, clementines, pears, blueberries) and some true Irish potatoes plus some olive oil and organic yogurt, we headed to the butcher. Now given our limited freezer space, I ordered ONE chicken breast to prepare for dinner this evening. He gave me my chicken breast in a baggie and we were on our way. Backpacks loaded, carrying my chicken breast in my hand. After waiting for the bus for 11 minutes, we hopped back on and back to campus.

I was rather excited for my dinner. I have eaten so many fruit snacks since Lindsay & Co. were here plus the supply of Curious Georges from my mom, I was beginning to feel like a fruit snack. Plus restaurant food from 10 days of traveling. Now, I don't know who thought that I could make a successful dinner without incident. You're talking about the girl who actually ruined Mac & Cheese because I forgot to drain the water before adding the powder. Mac & Cheese, the world's simplest food. Granted I was 10, but still. That and I had to have a lesson in Grilled Cheese making by my wonderful Grandma, but hey, I'm a certified pro at that now. See, I just need to be taught. I'm a world class learner. I follow directions well. I mean I mastered the Lean Cuisine directions early. And I successful assisted in the baking of the Gram Flo Christmas cookies this year. I'm not hopeless. I can be taught.

Anyway, chicken in a pan is somewhat of a specialty of mine now. Little olive oil, buttered chicken, garlic and herbs. Actually turned out like a thing of beauty. Be impressed. I can now fulfill the Chicken Diet Brent lived on for a year. But I was feeling adventorous and after a Skype session with the Bucholzs wanted some flippin' red potatoes. Potatoes are somewhat of an Irish legend. It's like the Idaho of Europe. So I thought, well my olive oil trick has been doing me well. So I sliced up the potatoes and tossed them in the olive oil with some butter and garlic. I am cooking my food as Garlicy as Monica does. Well after a while, of getting my chicken cooking, etc, I noticed my potatoes were black. Burned. Well, when first you don't succeed, try again. So I turned the heat down and tried again. No luck. They were just hard. So I threw them in some water in a bowl and microwaved them for a minute than put them back in the olive oil. Good plan? Not sure. Unorthodox, maybe. Well by this time, I had eaten my chicken standing up. My patience wearing thin, I gave up on the potatoes. Okay, I ate them anyway. A little hard, but not terrible. No Uncle Charlie's, that's for sure.

In hindsight, I should've done what I usually don't know how to do something: google it. But I was feeling adventurous. Now I know.

Just another day in Dublin.

The Funniest Thing To Happen To Me... All Week

So Roebuck Residence Halls decided that it would be okay for turn off our power for 6 hours (10 am-4pm) today while they completed some construction work. Seems necessary enough until you figure out all the things you can't do without power. Well the obvious, no lights. Then you think about it a little more. Electric stoves, electric microwaves=no cooking. Electric fridge, good thing I don't have any food in there yet, haven't hit the grocery yet. Electric water heat, no hot showers. Electric pump, no water. No power, can't plug your computer in. So my plan was to work on my battery until it ran out and then hit the library. But I forgot one thing about no power that was the icing on the cake. No power, no internet. Which means can't check my e-mail or get very far in my homework. So I finished my paper and headed to Quinn to get some work done. Miss Jen was there too so we both did some work until about 5:45 when they were closing the building. This is no BIF where you can stay all night. I needed to print something so I walked to the IT building. I was not in there for more than 3 minutes but when I went to leave I couldn't. The doors were locked. Yep, trapped in the building. Now under normal circumstances this could be fun. If I was in like a museum or a Wal-mart, but the IT building wasn't an exciting place to spend the night. So I called Jen and laughed as I told her my problem. She came to the door but couldn't get me and I was stuck on the inside doors. She told me she'd go get security so I took a lap to find someone. Place was deserted. Except for one Asian kid who came out from some study nook. I told him my problem and he found a button that released the first set of doors. Close to the outside but still stuck by the automatic doors. Jen with her 2 security escorts showed up. As we waited for the guy with the key to come, they said it happens more than you think.

Most embarassing however was that just as the guy came to unlock it, me and the two Asians who were also in the building found a camouflage manual door that let us out.

Yep, only me. Get locked in a building, but not really. I swear it wasn't obvious.

Official St. Patrick's Day (Tuesday March 16 & Wednesday March 17)

We had made our travel plans specifically so we would be home in time for St. Patrick's Day in Ireland. It seemed sacrilegious not to be. Dublin had a five day festival for St. Patrick's Day oriented mostly at children and families. We had plans to go to the "Irish Ceili" which was like a music festival on Tuesday and then the St. Patrick's Day Parade on Wednesday. We also had plans to go to the GAA Championship Hurling and Gaelic Football Games. This had been recommended to me by Patrick Sweeney, owner of Doonagore Farmhouse B&B in Doolin. When we told Hughey (the boyfriend (and Dublin resident) of another Deltasig's roommate--weird connection I know) that was what we were doing, he was impressed. He said that's what the locals do. Right on. Thanks for the suggestion Patrick.

So before I give the scoop on the days of St. Patrick's festivities, here's a little history behind the tradition in Ireland and maybe why it was more touristy than traditional. St. Patrick was a saint (go figure) who baptized the first people in Ireland and was said to chase away all the snakes from Ireland. No more snakes in Ireland. Given his position as a religious figure, St. Patrick's Day is a religious holiday. Somehow it became a drinking holiday in other parts of the world to celebrate all things Irish...just like Cinco de Drinko is a bigger celebration in America than Mexico. Ireland's celebration of this holiday only began to evolve after it was sick of cities like Chicago having bigger and better celebrations than the Irish. In fact, pubs were closed on St. Patrick's Day in Ireland until 1995. And they don't die the River Liffey green, I asked. The kid I asked thought I was nuts.

So Tuesday after resting for the beginning of the day and blogging about spring break (I think I spend more time blogging than doing homework), Claire, Laura and I headed into town. We found the music festival outside of St. Stephen's. It was a good time but nothing too crazy. I think my favorite line was when the MC had the crowd do a competition for the best Michael Flatley, lord of the dance, impression. (It's like his feet move independently from his body). Other than that, there were a lot of leprechaun hats (mostly tourists) and two guys dressed up in horse costumes. Me and Claire learned somewhat of a traditional dance, very basic, so we danced along in the streets, probably looking like idiots.

We decided to walk around a bit, hit up the tourist shops, and just soak it in. I love live music and it's definitely one of the things I like most about Ireland. Laura had to go meet her friend from Trinity so me and Claire went to Dunnes to get some food to make for dinner. Chicken Caesar Salad and Red Wicked.

We got on the bus headed home and made dinner. Well Claire made dinner while I mastered DJed and played some Irish music. After dinner and relaxing, I headed back to my apartment.

St. Patrick's Day

Now I don't think I've ever really celebrating St. Patrick's Day. No Irish in me. Until now. I had received two carepackages full of St Patrick's gear from Home. One from Charlene (and Mike) with beads, earrings, a light up mug, stuffed animals, candy, everything and anything she could find that was St. Patrick's themed. I also received a package from the lovely Ladies of Delta Zeta and wonderful Ali with U of I Unofficial St Patrick's Gear...a sweatband that said "Get Lucked Up" and a lime green fanny pack. (Side note, fanny is somewhat of a bad word in Ireland so Laura advised me to call it my bum bag). So I dressed in my green and decked myself out trying to be a mixture of spirited and not so tourist. I do LIVE in Ireland afterall.

Claire and I met up at 10 to hit the bus and meet up with Laura. The bus was packed with tourists dressed in green. Even green lipstick, kind of weird and over the top. The bus route was diverted due to the parade so found Laura and headed to claim a place in the parade route. We decided that there was one thing that we needed to commemorate the occasion: a Shamrock Shake. Luckily McDonald's didn't let us down. (We had looked yesterday but I guess they only do them on the actual day here). It was also Laura's first Shamrock Shake.

Luckily St. Patrick didn't chase all the "shakes" out of Ireland. Clever slogan Mickey D's, clever slogan. Claire and I recorded a video to send home to our business fraternity, but I'll share it with you. Who is surprised that I'm more interested in my Shamrock Shake than anything else?

The parade was on definite Dublin time. It didn't start until 15 minutes late. And it was kind of disappointing. I was thinking more jigging less modern art and creepy Alice in Wonderland type floats. My favorite was probably the people dressed up in eggs being chased by bakers with spoons. So weird. People were pretty desperate to see the parade, climbing in trees to get a good view. It definitely wasn't anything traditional. Maybe that's Ireland's way of playing a joke on all the tourists.

The Scottish

St. Patrick

Eggs chased by Bakers

Anything for a better view

Croke Park

After a while, we decided we were getting bored of the parade so we headed in the direction of Croke Park. We followed the crowds towards the stadium. We got to our seats and quickly made friends with the men around us. Older gentlemen, they took to us after they found out we were from Chicago. The guy behind us overhead this and took it upon himself to explain the games to us. Hurling and Gaelic Football are traditional Gaelic sports. Mix of soccer and other sports, hurling uses a hurling stick and small ball that is dense and hard like a baseball. Gaelic Footballs are like soccer balls. It was supposed to be a good match and I did enjoy the game. However it wasn't much of a tight game and the Ballyhale Shamrocks were victorious. We got some ballpark food, I had a hamburger and chips (fries) and Claire and Laura hotdogs. I was tired, but I was enjoying the Dublin Day. After the first half of the Gaelic Football game, we moved seats near Hughey and Sarah right next to the field. Hughey explained more of the game to us. I have it pretty much down, the scoring at least. I even helped some tourists behind me understand the point system.

Hurling

Referees wear lab coats

Crying in defeat

We ended up sitting next to Laura's friends Margaret and Tim by chance so they walked back into town with us. We separated from them and headed to Temple Bar to meet Jen and her friend from home Jennifer. Temple Bar was so packed you couldn't move and they were charging ridiculous prices. Like 18 euro for a Jagerbomb. That's like $25. Laura had a symbolic shot of Apple Schnops from a flask and her shotglass necklace. We decided that we'd seen enough. The streets were packed with tourists dressed in ridiculous costumes. Everyone was pretty tame but it wouldn't take long for things to get rowdy. We passed some guy sitting outside a bar with a bloody nose. We agreed we'd have more traditional pub fun on a day when it wasn't crowded by tourists. We were still exhausted from the days before, so we decided to head to pick up Laura's things and head home. By the time we got on the bus, I was about to collapse. Exhaustion.

The Karoake Master Called Me Out....

I'm taking a short break from spring break blogging (still lots to tell about Vienna & Budapest) and then later on about St. Patrick's Day Celebration to tell the story of tonight's hilarity.

Since arriving home from my travels and celebrating the Irish holiday of St. Patrick's Day, I finally buckled down and did some homework today. I even visited the UCD library. After completing a comprehensive outline of my Irish History paper and catching up on some emails, we met to pick a Paris hostel. We are staying at this place run by the Vietnamese who in response to Stacy's email wrote "If the name Stacy Curry is felt, it will straighten". Hmm.. okay then. We decided it was time to hit the Wicked Wolf. It has been a while since we've belted it out and it seemed a good time to show Laura the glory of the favorite Thursday Night hangout. Claire, Stacy, Laura and I met at 9:30 with Stacy's neighbor Megan, her friend Allie and Allie's friends from home. One of whom was from Lake Forest, representin' LC.

We headed to the Wicked Wolf and perusual the place was slow to get going. Our man Brock Jones, DJ & Karoake default man was holding it down with some songs, starting with a favorite "Are We Human or Are We Dancer?". It wasn't too long until he was dedicating Prince's "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" to one Miss Stacy Curry. How he knew her name.... um, we come here a lot?! After pondering the usual karoake book for a jam that fit our mood, we decided on Lady Marmalade. As we waited, we were graced with the musical stylings of Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise". A childhood favorite, I rapped along, only to be told by Laura that I was "down low gangsta", under the surface. I laughed, I do rock a mad running man. All those years of Fresh Prince and Wayans Brothers. Nothing sets the mood quite like Bohemian Rhaspody and we were belting it out.

Finally it came time for Lady Marmalade. I had already called all the Lil Kim parts. Unfortunately this was just the Christina Aguilera version (no rapping, let down for sure). I'm pretty sure that Lady Marmalade is a karaoke must do, so cross that bad boy off the list. Before I could sit back down, I was summoned to the stage to join Stacy in a song that graces my top 5 favorite songs of all-time "Friends in Low Places". I always have a soft spot in my heart for some G.Brooks, and thus, it was necessary to bust this one out. Stacy sang back up due to her sicky voice, but it was a jam nonetheless.

We got a little old 90s music flare going out, Tearing up my Heart and Hit Me Baby One More Time. Then a fleet of Spanish speakers came up and sang "La Bamba". It doesn't get much more authentic than that. They finished it up with the Macarena, which took me back to the younger days and made me wonder why on earth it was so popular. Other than it is a dance everyone can do.

Stacy, Allie, and Megan decided they wanted to sing a little Heart, "Alone" so they hit the stage. About a minute into the song, Stacy walks off stage. Claire follows her to check on her, turns out she was just heading to the bar. Allie came to try to get her to finish the song, bringing the microphone with her. Thus at the end of the song, Brock called out to the bar..."Stacy, where are you? Bring back my microphone, or I'll Kill you". Brock loves Stacy. The microphone was returned and all was mended between Brock & Stacy. In fact, when Alster came up to sing (the X factor man himself), Stacy got a little shout out in Boyz II Men's End of the Road from Mr. Jones. Not enough love for him to allow Alster to sing her ultimate favorite.."Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me". We wrapped up the evening with a little Aerosmith "Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" and in true Brock Jones' fashion, he finished the night with Lionel Richie. It's his signature jam and tonight he got up on the railing to sing, part of which he directed towards me and Stacy.

We chatted with Brock after the final fiesta and we promised him we'd be back again next week. He is definitely starting to recognize us as regulars. He asked Stacy if she was Irish since she was "crazy like an Irish Girl" and has red hair. Stacy tried to convince the barkeep to sing, but he declined, saying Brock wouldn't let him. We consulted Brock who said he could sing...ah maybe next week. Only midnight and having burned some cals singing, we headed next door to Supermac's for some late night grease. The guys at the counter must have thought we were idiots... 1) because when ordering we asked for "fries or chips or whatever you call them" 2) Stacy asked if the Irish Indepedent was "a real newspaper" 3)when Laura went up to the counter to ask for more ketchup (or tomato sauce or whatever) she told them she needed more for Brittany..like they knew who I was. But we did go through a lot of ketchup, most of which I'm pretty sure ended up on Stacy's hands in the struggle of dipping her tenders or rather scrapping them through the sauce on her tray. Most beautiful girl in the world? I'm not sure Prince would think so now. She recounted all the times Brock called her out, and told us of her dreams and aspirations to marry the barkeep (whose name we don't know) so she can spend the rest of her Thursday nights for all of her life at the Wicked Wolf.

We headed to catch a cab, which one backed down the street to pick us up. A decision I think he later regretted when we got in. Stacy began to recount our night to him. She talked about Brock "the karaoke master", the owner of the place. I corrected her, Eugene owns the place, and the cab driver said "yes, I know Eugene well". Stacy asked if he knew Alster too and then another off the wall comment. He was loving us. In the midst of it, Stacy goes "I found a newspaper in my jacket". She had put the Irish Independent in her jacket to take home. He asked us why so many Americans (obnoxious ones at that) were out and Laura was quick to say she was "from the land down under" (which we were going to sing but we ran out of time). He dropped us off at the gate where we offered to pay him in Hungarian Forints and we bid our farewells, laughing the whole way back to our rooms. Successful successful night for sure. Amazing how much singing and laughing is good for the soul.

Eurotrip Day 10: Hungary Celebrates a National Holiday (Monday March 15)

And here it is, the last day of our whirlwind Spring Break tour. By this point, we were exhausted. Happy, loving life, but exhausted. Our feet had walked miles and miles of European streets and cobblestone. We'd climbed hills, navigated public transported, relocated, lived in a limited wardrobe for 10 days, survived a Czech Hospital, partied with old friends and new.

And yet, I woke up early, ready to seize our last day. We got ready, had breakfast, bid farewell to Corey and Melody, and checked out. We left our luggage at the hostel and headed out. Since Stacy had missed the grand tour we decided we'd take a walk around Budapest and show her the finer aspects with a little repeated Gabor humor. It turned out to be a good day to explore. The national holiday had brought everyone out on the streets, adorned in pins of Hungarian flag colors. The streets were hopping. Street vendors lined the river. Flags were everywhere. It was in celebration of the Anniversary of the 1848 Revolution.

We crossed the Chain Bridge to give Stacy a view of Pest from Buda. There were all sorts of horse and carriages out and about and tons of kids dressed in snow suits. We crossed back on the bridge, walking down the middle of the bridge. The wind was blowing again and the flags were waving. Children playing. Just a happy day in Budapest.

We headed back towards St. Stephen's and did a little souvenir shopping. Jen had plans to meet up with a friend from high school in Med school in Budapest so we left her at the coffee shop and hiked towards the Hungarian Bath. Now for those of you have heard about my Turkish Bath experience, I was hoping that the Budapest Bath would be nothing like this. But from the pictures we saw and what we read, this was more swimming pool less naked Turkish women.

As we walked to the bath, we heard music blasting. "Praise You" by Fatboy Slim blasting over the loud speakers as we walked by the St. Stephens. Me and Laura started to dance as we walked. Singing and dancing, we crossed the empty street that had be closed for the celebrations. I can't really put into words the moment, the moment were you can just dance. Because. Dancing in empty Budapest streets. I preemptively peaked that moment as a highlight of the day and the trip.

It was a bit of stroll down the Pest streets but it was a sunny day and I love a good walk. We arrived in the park and there were more celebration going on. A group of people standing in a circle holding hands singing. The park was perfect. There were pretzel stands, unique bridges, castles. We saw a big yellow building that I thought was the bath so I went inside and asked. Yep, right place. After asking an english speaker a few questions we got general admission wrist bands and headed into the locker rooms to change. We got a locker card and a hanger and we changed into our bathing suits. (Bathing suits=step up from naked europeans).

Once changed, we tried to figure out this place without looking too touristy. We walked through the bath room that was full of men. We were worried we had gone in the wrong place but we saw a woman and felt better. It smelled a little gross in that room so we found the door to go outside. While freezing outside, the pools out there seemed a little more what we were up to. The minute we got outside in our towels we ran to the nearest bench, tossed our towels and ran in our swim suits to the warm water.

The water was about 37 degrees celsius which is about 98.6 fahrenheit. It felt amazing. We just floated around in the warm water, enjoying the sun. Old men were playing chess as they sat in the water. The hot water hitting the cold air caused steam. We soaked for a bit, our bodies worn out from all the go-go-go. After a bit, we decided to explore the other pools. One was cold, no thank you. We kept running. It was cold outside. Probably like 40. We ended up in a warm pool. This pool had like a wave circle. You float around in a circle with the current pulling you. The closer you get to the wall the faster you go as the jets push you. We had a great time just flying around, trying not to crash into one another.

Then there was the bubble waters. We stood in the bubble areas for a bit soaking up the sun and relaxing. The water was like less than hot so we decided to move back to the hot pool. We ran, freezing, back to the hot pool. We were all loving it. Very European, relaxing. The pool was surrounded by the beautiful building. As we were just sitting chilling, we recognized a little shrimp running towards us. JEN! She had come to join us. Stevie gave her a piggy back ride around the pool. By this time, we were getting a little pruney. We soaked for few minutes more...enjoying the sun, water, and each other company's. It felt like real spring break. Laura was loving on the water. Missing all things Australian.

We got out of the pools, ran inside, and showered, changed, and tried to beautify. We met up at the metro station and tried to head to this Italian restaurant Jen had gone to with her friend. We couldn't find it so we walked back to near the hostel. We were in a hurry so we found a different italian restaurant called Pizza Marzano. Laura and I split an American Pizza and I had a piece of Claire's which she told me later had Goat Cheese on it. Claire ended up buying us all lunch since the woman wouldn't split our checks for us. Thanks Claire :) Somewhere on our walk home, Stevie responded to something "It's your world squirrel". I looked at her, and was like, what is that from? And she's like "Fresh Prince". After all the years of not knowing, I finally figured out where Brent got that phrase. A weird highlight but it's one of my favorite phrases.

We hustled back to the Hostel to catch our 4:30 shuttle to the airport. Door to door service for like 7 euro. Not too shabby in my book. A mini-bus picked us up and took us right there. We had allotted plenty of time to check in. Good thing. The check in system (the counter) was having technical difficulties. We ended up waiting in line for an hour just to check in. It was a mob of madness but after checking my luggage weight (9.2 kgs) and going through passport control and security we were at the gate with 30 mins to spare.

We got some snacks and did pits and peaks of the whole trip. We all agreed that we had geniunely enjoyed each other company which was wonderful since we are all different and stuck together for 10 days straight. We had promised each other at the beginning that we couldn't get annoyed with each other until day 7. I can honestly say I don't think we ever really got annoyed with one another. My highlight of the trip was just the random times we broke into song or dance or laughed uncontrollably. We loved Berlin's history, Prague's charm, Vienna's familiar faces, and Budapest's character.

Just as we were about to line up to board our flight was delayed 30 mins. Turns out Manchester airspace had been closed due to a broken radar so they had to redirect our flight and add more fuel. Well better safe than sorry. I ended up sitting next to Jenbo on the flight and we slept on each other's shoulders for most of the flight.

Arrival in Dublin airport and back to our rooms as quickly as possible. The Aircoach was busy with tourists in town for St. Patrick's Day. We bid farewell and went to our respective rooms and apartments. Exhaustion but what a good trip. Seriously one of the best weeks of my life. Saw so much, learned so much, laughed so much.

Eurotrip Day 9: The Wolfpack Grows (Sunday March 14)

I got to figure out a new way to start each post that doesn't involve "we woke up in the morning". But unfortunately (or fortunately I suppose) that's how we started each morning. We had toast and nutella and some cornflakes (and added sugar because unlike Tony's frosted flakes, these were not greeeeeat). We made conversation with two girls at the breakfast table, Corey and Melody. They were from LA and Corey is studying in Athens. They both go to USC so they were quick to make Rose Bowl jokes as soon as we told them we were from the land of the Fighting Illini. We told them about the free tour we were going on and they asked if they could join. The more the merrier I say. We assembled the wolfpack, now at 9 members, and headed out. It was hilarious turning around and seeing all of them following me as I lead to the metro station. It turns out the Diana and Stevie had mutual friends of Melody & Corey, what a small world. The 9 member wolfpack didn't last long, by the time we'd rode a few stops on the metro, Stacy was feeling a little gross, so she decided she should probably sit this one out again. Another bummer.

We met the tour guides at the lion statue and within minutes we were introduced to the man who made Budapest memorable: Gabor. Now any tour guide named Gabor is destined to make things a little more interesting. But this particular Gabor was dressed in tight tight black flare pants with a flamboyent scarf and a Thai/Spanish looking top that would be revealed when he unzipped his jacket. It also helped that he started out asking us what we knew about Budapest or Hungary..um nothing. Except Goulash, which he told us was like Australians and Fosters, no authentic Hungarian actually eats Goulash. But perhaps my favorite part about Gabor was how he also referred to us as "travelers". "Travelers line up against the wall", "Travelers listen up", "God Damn Travelers Hurry Up". He would also end sentences leaving us hanging by saying "Details Later". I knew it promised to be a great tour when he explained the history of Hungary with a map of Europe using a water bottle as Hungary and moving all around it. He also explained to us that Hungarian drivers were "Bastards" and that you have to look them in the eye to make sure they don't run you over. We walked to the river on a particular windy Budapest day.

We found our first statue, of a princess (or a prince) which is the first statue erected in non-communist Hungary. While a communist nation until 1990, Hungary's communism was a little lax, meaning young Gabor still got the pleasures of Coca-Cola and MTV. We rubbed the knees of the little princess for good luck...as Gabor says "I'll rub anything I'm told to". Communist remains were still visible in the ugly communist buildings that contrasted against traditional intricate European architecture.

We walked through the streets of Budapest to a little park. Gabor informed us that the Hungarians are all about living life and L O V E (Ross's Love quote anyone?!). Proof of this is the padlock tree in the center of this park. People in love lock a lock on the tree fence with their initials of their loved ones on it and take the key and throw it in the river. How perfect is that. Gabor told us he is going to open a Lock and Key shop at the edge of the park. (Ingenius since it was difficult to find a lock...we wanted to make a Wolfpack Lock as a symbol of our successful trip).

Gabor continued to tell us about Hungarians and their accomplishments. Hungarians make up the largest percentage of Nobel Prize winners. Hungarian innovation has brought the world the Rubix Cube and Ball Point Pens. (Rivals the sugar cube and the microwave invented in the Czech Republic). Talking to Hungarians about their Nobel prize successes is a sure way to their heart. As is talking about their first King St. Stephens. The next stop on our tour was named after him, St. Stephens Basilica. It's actually just a church but the pope called it a Basilica so who argues with him.

Now all of this was covered in the Pest side of Budapest, pronounced Pesh. The city is actually divided into two parts, Buda and Pest, hence the name. We crossed the Chain Bridge to Buda. It looked like a Lions Gate Bridge. It was super windy so I had to make sure I didn't lose Miss Jennifer's hat in the river.

When we got to the other side, we saw a tram that took us up to the top of the hill. Gabor informed us that was a tourist trap and a waste of money. Gabor was really concerned about us not getting ripped off. Instead he showed us how he keeps his physic in tip top shape. We climbed up about 1,000 steps to the top of the hill. But like I said, always worth the view. We got some photos and Gabor yelled at us for being slow.

We headed through the little town and governmental building until we found an oddly shaped statue. It is the last remaining communist statue. Use your imagination to determine why the Hungarians thought this one was just too funny to tear down. And perhaps about how off the way the communists were to create a statue like this and not realize what people would perceive it to be.

Now there was another member of the tour who made it memorable. This little Asian girl and her duck. The duck was the subject of her photos. People are strange, and perhaps don't realize how strange people may perceive their actions as. Now It's not like I haven't taken my share of Flat Stanley photos (or flat Brie in Turkey) but that was among friends not strangers.

The backdrop of the statue were beautiful hills with houses. We stopped to enjoy the sun and the views and continued on. We passed another Tribbi, a car made of plastic and Gabor told us how he loved his and how him and his friends would race them. High speed 50 mph, made in light blue, pink, brown, and white. A chick magnet for sure.

And then another great statue. It is definitely a traditional thing to rub statues. All over Europe I've rubbed knees, a man falling into a river. At home, we rub Lincoln's nose. And in Budapest, they rub a Horse's junk. Now you can imagine what kind of "skills" you acquire from rubbing this part of the horse. But climbing up on a statue and grabbing on is just another thing to laugh at someday, so I climbed myself up there.

As we continued, we approached Matthias Church. The roof of this church reminded me of Moscow, or a fancy Easter egg. It was beautiful. We continued onto to the Fisherman Bastion. It looked almost fake. Like a fairytale.

That was the end of the tour, Gabor gave us suggestions about the best places to go and the best bath house. We bid our farewell and went in the search of food. We were hungry and cold, not a good combination. We found a little classy restaurant called Appetit. We settled in and I loaded up on chicken and potatoes. Refreshed, we headed back down the big hill and towards Pest. We linked arms down the hill but it was steep so we all began a little jog. We sounded like galloping horses. We continued linked until we had to "mob out". We sang songs as we walked down. A musical group for sure. We crossed back to Pest and headed to meet up with Stacy who had rested up and was ready to roll. The girls shopped in H&M and I sat in the sun on the Lion Statue.

We headed back to St. Stephen's Basilica. We found out from Gabor that the following day was a National Holiday, and we found a celebration in the square in front of St. Stephen's. There was music and some speeches (not sure what about). We went inside the chapel and enjoy another beautiful place of worship. We saw the famous arm of St. Stephen's. Yep his arm is in a box in the church. Best part of it is that you have to pay 200 forints (about 1 dollar) to have the box light up so you can see it better. I waited until some other tourist paid and creeped on the weird weird memorial to the king. Europeans like to keep dead arms. After getting our fill, we headed to the steps of the church. We sat there for a bit just soaking in the day and the live music. I think someone said they were playing Ode to Joy in Hungarian. I bought a black & white muffin from the California Coffee Company and sat on the steps with the girls, just soaking up the sun and thinking how good life was.

St. Stephen's arm is in there

We headed back to the Hostel, stopping so the girls could get some gelato. I was too full from my muffin but this was about the coolest looking ice cream ever. I'm pretty sure this is what people will be eating at my wedding.

We went back to the Hostel to rest up. Diana had to head back to Vienna said we said goodbye to her as well. We had dinner plans at 7 with Melody and Corey. We met them in the lobby of the hostel and headed down the block to Menza. It was our last family dinner of the trip and we chatted about everything with new friends and old. The waitress thought we were ridiculous. She thought Stevie and Jen were a couple. She was utterly confused when Stacy asked for her pasta with sauce on the side (plain pasta would be better for her questionable stomach) and when Jen asked if they had skim milk for her coffee, she replied "No, everything in Hungarian is fat, fat, fat". We saw a guy in an Illinois shirt so Stevie and Claire went up and asked him if he was a fellow Illini, nope but his parents were.

We went back to the hostel. I took a much needed hot shower. Claire broke out her acting skills and did a monologue for us all. We were more than impressed. We did journal time & pits & peaks, well everyone but Laura who had fallen asleep journaling. Pure exhaustion.