Colours

Daffodils
Daffodils, planted a long time ago and now spread unevenly on the banks of roads, brighten the landscape. Yellow and green for many kilometers. I saw some pictures taken in our neighbourhood during the summer, and it seems that it will get much greener than it is now.
By the way, my daffodils are still in shape after almost a month, and there are more bunches coming into bloom. Now I understand why there are so many bulbs planted everywhere. They require little maintenance and last for so long.

Red Luas
The Red Luas is actually purple, just like the Green one. Actually it’s the red line and the green line. You would think there must be a reason for these colours, but they could also be randomly chosen -- like the bus numbers, which have no apparent logic or meaning. Plus, I couldn’t find route maps anywhere, just general sketches. Google is much more helpful than the official bus website because Google has the bus stops. (Bus is actually pronounced like boss and it’s funny when you ride the boss ;-)).

The names of the train stops are sometimes intriguing like: Museum. And you wonder: what museum? The mystery vanishes when you see the entrance to the National Museum of Ireland two meters away from the door of the train.

Downtown, the train goes on narrow streets, 1.5m away from window shops. Between the train window and shop windows, pedestrians walk minding their own business on the sidewalk. It’s dazzling when the landscape is so close to the train. I had the feeling of a metro going through a tunnel of buildings and walls.

Downtown it is always crowded, no matter where you are. Citizens are told by the Luas announcement lady in a sweet and reassuring voice that they should watch their belongings, as pick-pockets may operate on the train. After all, Dublin is a tourist city.

thotsam and jetsam

I was very leery about getting a cell phone. I've resisted becoming a gadget guy, like so many of my friends, because i treasure simplicity (i deal with extraordinarily complex systems every day -- i don't think more complexity is really something i need right now). But now i'm becoming just another degenerate addict to my Crackberry.

What this means to you, dear reader, is that i can now capture random thoughts for later blogging, with only 22 times more effort than scribbling a note on a piece of paper with my Fisher Bullet Space Pen. Tidbits that would normally pass like the wind (and rightfully so) can now be captured electronically, and added to the detritus and debris of virtual e-flotsam and e-jetsam, for the rest of eternity.

Let's think about that for a moment. Nothing is ever lost on the internet. Whatever lame-brained idea or stupid metaphor i come up with will still exist, in perfect condition, a thousand years after i'm gone. There will be a huge cache of information about my life, without the slightest hint of degradation -- an archeologist's *dream*. And what's more, absolutely _no one_ will care!

Anyway, on with the timbits. Er, i mean tidbits. Mmmm... timbits. Oh how i miss Tim Horton's coffee. I actually saw a woman carrying a Tim Horton's coffee cup, and immediately got terribly excited -- "Huh? What? Wait, whazat?". It seems the franchise has made it's way across the pond. We can, in fact, buy TH doughnuts at the local grocery store in the village. However, my informants tell me that the hard-to-find coffee places don't actually have genuine TH coffee, just the usual local rotgut in a TH paper cup. Sigh.

Where wuz i? Oh ya, i was talking about cars. So, we went to a couple of car dealerships yesterday in the Motown district of Dublin. That was an interesting experience. I've never seen so many men in dresses. [If you're lost and bewildered, that's exactly how i felt.]

It seems the Nation's Cup of rugby is in town, with the day's marquee match-up between Ireland and Scotland bringing loads of excitement and thousands of people into the downtown core, many of whom were wearing Scottish kilts. We learned about this later, by overhearing a conversation between two middle-aged women discussing the finer points of the game (which is interesting, because the smash-mouth sport only has crude points). 40-ish moms here don't talk about knitting. They talk about what formations our boys can use to try to stop France's monster, Didier, from breaking through the line. It was of the utmost urgency for these ladies to get to a pub to catch the remainder of the game.

The pubs here are awesomely great, by the way (to continue the stream of semi-consciousness). They are cavernous and warm, and full of ornate woodwork and fiddly bits. Pubs are the counterpoint to the cold and imposing concrete churches, and they are equally pervasive and central to communal life here. They are also landmarks -- at least one will be referred to in any detailed set of directions for getting somewhere. There is no grid system, so directions are of the form "Well, you go down the N to Ballycrotch, pass the Red Lion [pub] to Crinkbreaughlenlaough Lane, and it's three hoofs from the Stighgowainliangein". Uhh, right, got it, thanks. Everything makes perfect sense, provided that you and your ancestors have lived here for a minimum of 720 years, and you have an encyclopedic knowledge of every pub in the city -- which is taken as a given, naturally.

So far, the only thing we've really needed a car for is to go looking for a car. It was an hour and half journey, first by bus North to city center, then by Luas LRT West and way South again. The direct distance would be about a quarter of that. But the trip was enlightening, because we had never taken the Red Line of the Luas before. We got to see a bunch of new areas of Dublin, including some poorer run-down areas, which are a much better facsimile of the way things have been here for millenia, before the Celtic Tiger economic boom of ten years ago. We must have passed a dozen different unfathomably complex environments, each unlike anything i'd ever seen before. But i was able to shrug it off with my highly developed North American apathy and nonchalance.

One of the things i love about the Luas is listening to the bilingual announcements of station destinations. Irish Gaelic is a truly bizarre (and yet strangely beautiful) language. It sounds like a song (perhaps a traditional folk song), but it looks like some sort of strong encryption system. I've designed an algorithm for generation of pseudo-Gaelic. You take normal English words, rearrange and mutate a few letters, and then randomly insert extra vowels with roughly a one-third probably after each letter (with a particular bias toward i, a and u). Then you liberally sprinkle in some circumflexes, dots, accents, and whathaveyou, the way a chef would add herbs and seasonings to her latest creation. Voila, serve with a language soup, a syllable salad, and a nice Chablis.

I think i'm starting to get a handle on the lingo, though. One of the destinations announced by the Luas lady sounded something like "blaah-course", with a thick Irish lilt. That was the English version, mind you -- the Gaelic version was incomprehensible gibberish that went on for about thirty seconds, but it was very pretty sounding, like an onomatopoeic poem. Now, with my newfound experience in Irish word formation, i deduced that the actual destination was probably closer to "Blaughoarse" (with the usual almost Arabic haughing/hacking sound). When we arrived at the next station, the sign read... "Blackhorse". It was next to a big yellow pub with a big black horse imprinted on the side.

So, we test-drove a car (no big deal this time) and looked at a few others. Before embarking on the long journey home, we ate at a Subway. The North American corporations are moving in big time here, but i have to confess that i'm somewhat ambivalent about it. It's tragic to see the loss of yet another ancient culture, along with so many possibilities for truly edifying experiences. At same time, that familiar submarine sandwich from home was unquestionably the highlight of my very eventful day. Sad, isn't it?

Okay, silliest blog entry evaar, but it will have to hold you for an indeterminate period of time.

swedish meatballs (lack thereof)

Okay, i have been totally delinquent in blogging. I'll bet i'm the first one ever.

I tend to get busy on things, and when i focus on something, other things fade away completely and utterly. That's why you, dear reader, will have to endure long absences. I did jot down some notes along the way for future blog entries though. Maybe i'll write them up at some point.

I've still been working 10 and 12 hour days. I'm making progress, but i'm not very organized yet. You could say that i'm getting things done but not Getting Things Done, if you were clever with words, and knew the backstory.

This morning we have to go to the bank. Yawn, no big deal, you're thinking. Wrong. In this country, getting a bank account is a Very Big Deal. It's been five weeks since we applied for one, and it still isn't operational. That's why we're going to try another bank. Wish us luck.

We were also without broadband internet service for a month. Poor Xan called that useless company a dozen times, trying to get some resolution to the problem. We would have punted them if they weren't the only game in town (unfortunately, they know that, and abuse it).

These aren't the only examples of things not working. Far from it. I was warned about the poor service here, but wow. After living in a country like Canada, nothing prepares you for this kind of neglect.

While trying to understand the reason for our annoying split taps, Xan stumbled on a blog entry from a Swedish couple living in Ireland (Sweden parallels Canada in many ways, apparently). It has so many insightful observations on the differences in cultures that i'd like to recycle it for today's blog entry. Kindly read their article, replacing "mincemeat" with "fruit-bottomed fromage cottage". Thanks, Sven and Kari!

Impressions of Ireland (http://www.rosvall.ie/Intryck_eng.html)

Spring

It is totally spring in Dublin. Buds are growing, trees are blooming and spring flowers are coming into blossom. Actually it is very interesting how vegetation grows here. It is almost continuous and very slow. For instance the trees started to bloom two weeks ago and they are not yet done. The daffodils in my garden did the same and, to my joy, they last much more than the ones in a vase.
I went for shopping in the morning and I couldn’t resist stopping to smell the sweet fragrance of the flowered trees and feel the gentle sun beams on my skin. Too bad that I caught a little cold and I can’t stay longer outside.

Home

I am home again. Home… I lived in six cities and four countries. Where is home? I visited Romania, the country where I was born. So I was home and then came back home? And when I’m going to go to Canada, it will be again, home? Some would say that home is where your heart is but what can I say, my heart is big.

For me, home would be where I feel safe and comfortable. It is just a matter of getting used with your environment. When I moved in Canada, everything was foreign, different from what I knew. It was easy there, though. The society is built in order to accommodate newcomers that is, everything is well explained. In Ireland, things weren’t that simple anymore. Everybody knows this and that, if they lived here forever. But I think they are catching up with North America because the newcomers group is significant now. I was really surprised to see how many foreigners are in Dublin. In both cases, after three months I started to feel safe and comfortable. The longer you stay in one place, the more you get used to your environment.

Now, after almost four years, I visited Romania. I was amazed how familiar was everything I was experiencing, and yet, I was detached, observing and having fun of things that in the past would make me frustrated and angry. I guess my attitude was due to the fact that I knew I will leave soon. In a way I was disappointed that things didn’t change much. On the same token, I knew this will happen, that’s why I left in the first place. In a sentence I would say: the private business and property exploded whereas the public services and government duties are extremely disabled. I wonder when the elected leaders will realize that they have to work to improve people’s lives, not only their own pockets.

The time was short but I was happy to see my family, old friends, taste foods that are hard to find here, remember how it feels like to walk on streets with many loose dogs, and travel with crowded means of transportation. The weather wasn’t very good either, overcast and foggy, melting snow and lots of mud. Next time I’ll go in a better season. :-)

And above all, I was happy to return in Dublin, not only because the streets are always clean but because here is Darse and most of my heart is where he is.