Photo Of The Day: You Sure About This, Hans?

Switzerland: Sublime, High-Flying, Terminal Velocity Memories

Remember how I warned you I was about to do something stupid? Well, I guess it's time I let you know what that was. The Swiss Alps were so beautiful, and the day too perfect, that when I got there I decided to take a little scenic plane ride over and around it all. Just a nice plane ride at 13,000 feet...with a parachute and a dude named Hans attached to my back. The rest is, as they say, history, as I tumbled back down to solid ground at 125mph. The whole thing was a combination of sheer terror and sublime beauty; well worth the hefty cover charge. And don't worry, I've got pictures and a video to prove it all.

Amsterdam: Hotel Kabul, A Turkish Nightmare

If you ever find yourself in Amsterdam and in dire need of a place to stay for the night, avoid the Hotel Kabul at all costs and consider a better alternative: bringing a raft and floating around one of the canals for the night. Maybe I'm being a bit unfair, but this was the scariest hostel I've ever been a part of. First of all, the place was too expensive, dirty, and the staff seemed very shady. And perhaps my giant, 30+ year old Turkish roommate (my only roommate in a 10-bed room) who stumbled in at 4:30am, sat next to my bed on a chair, woke me up, freaked me out, and warned me to be careful when he found out I was American and didn't have any joints, maybe he had something to do with it, but who's to say, really. But hey, if you want to stay at a creepy hostel steps away from the Red Light District, then by all means, Hotel Kabul is your one. Personally, I'm looking forward to my train to Brugges, Belgium. Amsterdam seems like it could be a really fun place, but I think coming here by myself hindered that a bit. When I was on the streets, I was too busy watching out for myself, avoiding the window prostitutes and drug dealers to really enjoy it all. If I'm ever back in Amsterdam, I think it might be wise to stay a little further away from the RLD. The Boom Chicago show did make the trip worth it, though.

Amsterdam: Boom Chicago

When I came in yesterday, I saw an ad for a nightly comedy show by a group called Boom Chicago. It started when a few college grads came over to Amsterdam and decided to quit their jobs and start up a comedy show in the vein of Second City or Whose Line Is It Anyway. The website said that tickets were sold out, but that's no reason to give up. So I took a tram down to the theatre, asked if there were any tickets left, the girl said it was completely sold out, but I persisted. "What if I hang around until show time...would there be tickets then maybe?" She goes back into her computer, looks around, and asks if it's only a single ticket I'm after. When I said yes, it's just me, she hands me over a ticket and says I better hurry up and get a seat. I sat next to and talked to an Australian woman throughout the night, who was fresh off the Great Wall Marathon in China last week (kinda gives new meaning to the term of "hitting the wall" for marathoners). We both enjoyed the show throughly, and I was able to learn a little bit about the Dutch culture. Afterwards I wandered back to the hostel, taking in the bright lights of the Amsterdam bars and canal lights. Who says a little persistence doesn't pay off?

Amsterdam

I'd been hearing about this city ever since I started on the hostel-circuit a week ago, and what I've heard is pretty much all true. I've only been here since this morning, but that's been more than enough time for me to see what they're talking about. It's a beautiful city, engulfed in canals and cool architecture, but one that is equally shocking. My hostel seems a bit shady, to boot, so I'm not too sad that this will be my shortest stay of any city on my trip. One day is plenty of time for me here, especially since I'm by myself. Tonight, though, I'm trying to make my way over to see a comedy show, so that should be fun.

München: Dachau

After the magic of yesterday, today's main attraction was just about the complete opposite emotion. I made my way out to Dachau, about 15km outside of München, to visit the WWII concentration camp memorial site. Luckily, I met a couple from Maryland on the bus out there, so I had someone to walk around with and not have to experience all that alone. The site isn't just a memorial site...it is the actual site of the camp, liberated only 60 short years ago. We walked around the whole place, going through the role-call area, rubbled foundations where the barracks were built, and inter-denominational faith memorials that had been set up in the years after Dachau. We walked through reconstructed barracks, saw a documentary, and browsed through the museum. The tour also took us through the actual crematorium used for a majority of the murders: the waiting room, the undressing room, the "shower" room, and the furnace room. Between yesterday's excursion to Bavaria and today's trip to Dachau, I really didn't get to see a whole lot of Munich itself, but it was easily one of the most memorable parts of my year. I did lounge around the English Gardens (a really big city park) and enjoy a mas of Hofbrau original lager at the Hofbrauhaus, home of Oktoberfest, before I left town, but the other sights will have to remain for another trip to Munich.

München: My Luck Continues

So remember how I told you that I planned on spending the day doing the city tour and beer garden crawl? Yeah, well, that didn't quite happen. Last night, when I had just gone to sleep, my bunkmate at the hostel comes in (who I hadn't met yet) and wakes me up trying to find something in her bag. We start talking in whispers in the dark, trying not to wake the others. Next thing I know, without even knowing her name or what she looks like at this point, which would make identifying her next to impossible if we weren't sharing a bunk, I've agreed to ditch my plans for the next day and take a two-hour train trip with her early in the morning to some castle she had planned to go to alone in Bavaria. I spent a completely random day in a beautiful area around the mountains of Bavaria with some girl that I didn't know one lick when I set foot in Munich. We walked for miles and miles, never a lull in the conversation, and just had a great time with the beauty of the surroundings and with each other's company. We met some others from our hostel on the train home, had dinner with them in a beergarden (quite memorable in itself), and she ended the day by getting on a train just before midnight, bound for Italy. It was an absolutely incredible, almost magical, day with someone that I knew for just about 24 hours...which brings us to rule #42.b of solo-backpacking around Europe: always follow your instincts, even when it means scrapping your previous plans. Her motto, and theme of the day, was, "never let any experience leave you unchanged." And, perhaps fittingly, her name: Angela.

München

Tonight my home is in Munich, Germany. I got in from Interlaken semi-late in the evening, so my day will be full tomorrow before I leave on Sunday morning to go up north to the Netherlands. I plan on doing a walking tour of the city in the morning and tomorrow night trying a pub crawl that starts in one of the big beer gardens. The language makes me feel REALLY lost here, but I should be okay and learn about the city once I get in the tour groups. The insanity continues... It's a shame I didn't do Interlaken last, because I can't imagine that I'm going to be able to top my two days there. Here's to trying, though.

Interlaken Arrival

After finding my train about two nerve-wracking minutes before it left, spending the night with an Italian man and his aunt who spoke very little English, I've made it to Interlaken and this place is absolutely gorgous (I know, I know, I've been throwing that term around a lot, but I really don't know what else to say). I have a confession to make, though. I'm about to do something quite stupid. Remind me to tell you about it later.

Grazie, Roma

I lead a charmed life. There I am, standing in line in London, at 5:30 in the morning (after spending the night in the Stansted airport...fun!) on Sunday, and I run into none other than John Thuet and his girlfriend Fran. I completely forgot that they were going to be anywhere close to Europe. Turns out, he spent a few days in London and Dublin before taking his flight to Rome to start a summer school class at the Loyola Rome Center in June; and we just happened to be in the same airport at the same time. So logically, as is the rule of travel when things take an unsuspected turn, I threw my preliminary plans out the window and split a cab with him and Fran to go to the Loyola Campus, where I knew Aaron and Matt had arrived the day before. I didn't run into them right away, but I did run into Fr. Bosco (a favorite teacher of mine from Loyola) and a group of his students that were there for a different class (a few of which are friends of mine too). So I got invited along with his class for a guided tour of the city, and as this is the 11th time he's been to Roma and is a super intelligent man to begin with, he knows his stuff. Later that day when we got back to the Rome Center I ran into Aaron and Matt, and we set up plans to meet on Monday. Monday morning I went on a tour of ancient Rome with a group from my hostel, and then met up with Matt, Aaron, and another friend of mine, Lisa, and the four of us went to St. Peter's. We climbed to the top of the basilica (the highest point in Rome, by law) and got a great view of the city. Then we walked around the floor of the basilica and even got down in the crypt to see where John Paul II is buried. The basilica is just downright amazing in its grand scale. It's quite a sight. The four of us then finished the night off with dinner and wine at an outdoor cafe in Piazza Navone, a popular area of the city. I thought there was a chance that I MIGHT run into Aaron and Matt in Rome, but never did I even imagine all this stuff could have happened. Today (Tuesday), after a couple frantic hours in the train station, getting thrown in circles trying to figure out how to get to Switzerland tonight before I finally got it, I went back to Vatican City by myself. This time I went to the Vatican Museums, which is an impressive enough collection of art in its own right, but of course the jewel that the whole long museum leads up to is the Sistine Chapel. I must have sat in there for at least half an hour, amazed at the beauty and detail of it all. In two hours I'll be getting on a train to Bern, Switzerland. It's a night train, which is lucky considering it's about a 12 hour trip, and in the morning I'll get another train from Bern to Switzerland to set up camp in the Alps for a few days. I don't think I'll run into anybody else I know, but who knows. When I was alone in Rome, as rare as that ended up being, I definitely succeeded in meeting some interesting people, so I'm excited about what lies ahead. It's been slightly difficult in Rome because this is the first time I've been somewhere where I came in knowing nothing about the language. I've picked up a few simple things, but the stress of being alone and trying to navigate through a huge train station and ask people where I need to go was a little much. Just gotta be patient. Well, that's all for now. Rome is a real beauty of a city, and I'm glad Nick talked me into coming down here. The weather has been sunny and warm, the likes of which I definitely never saw in Ireland. And oh yeah, the gelato? That stuff is unreal; sorry you're not here, Mom! You're missing out on this one. I've had one everyday I've been here. Next up, Switzerland. Ciao!

Here We Go

Well, it's time. Documentary has been finished, essays turned in...now, to Europe. First up, a few days in Rome, and from there, probably Switzerland. I'll update this a few times while I'm gone, so stay tuned in. It's gonna be exciting.

Photo Of The Day: Red Carpet Treatment

Here's Ciara and I last night after the premier of all the documentaries. I really was amazed at the quality standard that all of the groups hit with their work. Later on this summer I should have a DVD of everything that was screened last night for anyone who wants to check any of it out.

Photo Of The Day: Ireland Road Signs

Photo Of The Day: Boring Night In Grove Island

Six different nationalities represented here. Can you spot them? While you're at it, go ahead and see if you can find Wizard Whitebeard's scroll, too.

Final Week In Ireland

...and I'm going out with a bang. A bang of work, that is. Finishing up the documentary by Tuesday night, two papers for Thursday, screening of the docs on Thursday night, and one more paper for Friday. And then? Flight to London late Saturday night, hang out in the airport for a few hours, and then board a plane for Rome early Sunday morning! Then, I'll have two weeks until I fly from Paris back to Shannon on June 5th, before flying home two days later. In between Rome and Paris, I think I'll hit Interlaken (Switzerland; IN the Alps), Cologne (Germany), Brussels (Belgium), and Amsterdam (Netherlands). For the most part, I think I'll be going at the trip pretty much on my own, although Megan, David, or John may join me for parts. Needless to say, I'm pretty stoked about the whole adventure. More info later...these assignments are really dragging me back to reality.

"Are You Kidding Me?"

My fish 'n' chips and occasional salmon steak has been put to shame. Last night at dinner with Ellen's parents, I got some real sea food. Kate, Ellen's mom, and I ordered the same thing, and we thought it would be another salmon steak. Ha. "Are you kidding me?" I said to our waitress when she brought out my dinner. She laughed; I looked at Kate; we cringed. Right table. Turns out, we ordered another seafood platter, which was basically 39% of all the marine life in the River Shannon. The salmon was a shade of reddish-orange, smoked and raw, piled high on a bed of salad. About 15 mussels, still in their shells, ran around the perimeter of the plate. Around the salmon was fresh shrimp and crab. And finally, hanging out in their shells, simmering in a pool of salt water, was raw oyster. It was a hell of a lot of food, but I managed to throw back and enjoy most of it. It's noon the next day and I'm still not hungry again. It was so fresh and tasting of the sea that we were convinced that after we ordered, they radioed ahead to the docks and had someone catch our dinner right then and there. Eating the raw oyster was the biggest challenge of the night, though. Kate and I sprinkled lemon juice on it, raised our shells, saluted, and dumped the shell down the hatch at the same time, the sea water and raw meat flowing down our gullets, like we were taking a shot of Irish whisky. I tried to chase it with my Guinness, but the taste of the food, as it was all night, was so distinct that even that tasted like it came straight from the sea. I've come a long way since Egg McMuffins, I'd say.

Photo Of The Day: Shankill Road Mural

The End Is Near

Ellen's moving out of the apartment tomorrow to travel around Ireland with her parents for a week before she leaves for London next Wednesday; Sven is packing his bags and going home to Germany in two days; and Megan just left to briefly go home for her brother's graduation. It's gonna be a quiet apartment this weekend. A quiet weekend is okay with me, though, after all the time spent on our documentary this week. It's gonna turn out pretty good by the time it's all said and done, I think. Tentatively titled "Behind Closed Doors," it's a piece on Adapt House, a place in Limerick where women who are in situations of domestic abuse can go to seek refuge. The "premier" with all the groups' work is next Thursday night, so I imagine that will be a big night out for everyone after the screenings. After today, another exam will be in the books. Thanks for the memories, Peace & Justice.

Photo Of The Day: Antrim Coast

Megan & I at Giant's Causeway along the Antrim Coast in Northern Ireland Go here for more Northern Ireland pictures.

Belfast: A Long Way From Glendale

I admit that I don't know about all the intricacies of "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland, but I saw enough to know that there is a long way to go before there is any sort of lasting peace in the city. There are segregated cities, but then there is Belfast. There is literally a wall that divides the Catholic Nationalist and Protestant Loyalist neighborhoods in two, known ironically as the Peace Line. At night and on weekends, gates along the wall are closed to help keep the peace. Some of us took an open-top bus tour of the city, and this tour included going through these neighborhoods. It was before the shops were open on Sunday, so the streets were mostly deserted and the shops were barred shut. Graffiti and broken-in windows were more common than not on the buildings and houses. Each side has intricate, and quite artistic, murals on the sides and fronts of buildings that depict their various ideologies. The Loyalists, on Shankill Road, have murals that depict the throne, flags, and perhaps most ominously, weaponry and the refusal to surrender. The Nationalists' murals on Falls Road, newer than the Loyalists', have murals about hunger strikes, military, elections, IRA, Sinn Féin, repression, and resistance. As were were driving down Shankill Road, hearing stories about what has happened in the neighborhood, and what was especially memorable, seeing a plague that commemorated the innocent dead from a bombing at a store a decade back, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't see what it was, but I saw the form of a body wind up and throw something. It was coming right for me, so I tried to cover myself up. It came and hit me on the neck on my sweatshirt, but luckily, it turned out to only be eggs from a couple of small kids on the sidewalk. In another instance, I saw a little kid standing on a side street, hanging out with his friends on any normal Sunday afternoon, just holding up a Union Jack. A few others who went out the day before and walked the area got asked what religion they were by more small kids. My friends said that they didn't really have a specific religion and they support anyone's choice, and in response, this little girl says, "well we don't." Nothing really happened, but it was clear to me how tenuous the peace in Belfast really is. The egg was nothing more than kids messing around, but even that unnerved me, just considering the situation and the moment from which it came. I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up in an area like that and think that there's stuff like this is normal. The city centre, where we stayed, certainly wasn't as bad as these neighborhoods, but even then I got the feeling that I really stuck out. Most of the younger population seemed to be committed to all-black dress, and the short amount of time to when the city centre went from packed in the afternoon to deserted in the evenings, save for the police, was eerie to say the least. Belfast. A memorable city that I'm glad I saw, but one that definitely left me feeling unsettled. Never threatened; just a bit uneasy.

Headin' North

This weekend, the international society is taking the long trip up north to visit Belfast. By long, I mean eight hours on a bus. Fun! But anyway, since Belfast is in Northern Ireland, which is part of Great Britain, this'll be my first painful experience with the British pound. See you on Sunday night; my pockets sure to be a little lighter.

Shorts Day

Today wasn't remarkably warm or anything, but when I got out of bed and saw a hint of sunlight, I decided that day would be Shorts Day. For two reasons. One, it would be a shame to pack two pairs of nice shorts and not wear either of them once while here. Secondly, proclaiming a day Shorts Day has the opposite effect as Oh Shit I Overslept Day, where your day is basically screwed before it even starts. When you have the audacity to bear flesh and point and laugh at the gods of Irish weather, it just adds an extra step to your day. As expected, it was a great day. Grades were posted for my Romanticism essay, and I did extremely well (first grade I've seen this semester!). Then after a little class, we had our improv show in front of maybe 30 people in the lounge, and it seemed to go over quite well; either way, I had a fantastic time. Then tonight, Sinéad and I got a lot done in the edit suite for our documentary. Hopefully this karma carries over for my Irish culture final tomorrow.

Dublin Recap

Dublin definitely had its charms, but as I expected, it wasn't different enough from Chicago or any other big city that would warrant me regretting studying in Limerick rather than going there for the semester. Since Ellen was part of our travelling group, that means that we would have some good food. Over the course of three days I had Mediterranean, Mexican, and Turkish. Very tasty, although the Irish should just stick to pulling pints rather than trying to make a margarita. Over the course of three days we walked around most of the city, including parks, gardens, and a personal favorite, seeing some of the sights on the north side of the city that had so much history with the Easter Rising and other independence struggles. Just as an aside, the Liffey is a river that divides the city into two, separating the more cultured south side from the rougher north side. When we were walking around on Sunday, we noticed the incredible amount of people that had one of four different Gaelic football jerseys on. We stopped one of them to find out what was going on, and there were championship games for two different divisions later in the day at Croke Park, which is the biggest venue for Irish sports in the country (and where U2 is playing next month). We walked down to Croke to see if we could get any cheap student tickets, and for only 5 euro, we ended up with tickets about 15 rows behind one of the goals. Gaelic football is one of the national sports of Ireland (hurling and handball being the other two), and if I had to describe it, I'd say it's a mix of soccer, football, and rugby. 46,000 people packed into Croke, and it was a great time. In the game I saw, Armagh took care of Wexford to claim their division title. Other noteworthy moments: finding a local brew house/pub in Temple Bar and having the best pint I've had all spring, taking a tour of the Ireland Writers Museum, getting back to my hostel on Sunday night to find a woman, already asleep, in my bed, wandering around the National Gallery for an afternoon, and meeting Mike, a guy, fresh from army duty, on a tour of Europe before going home to Seattle, that we spent much of the weekend with (my apologies for the run-on). Dublin photos

National Gallery

st. francis's stigmata Originally uploaded by bgilmor.

Here's a quick shot I snapped today at the National Gallery in Dublin. It's a painting of my man and patron saint, St. Francis, receiving the stigmata. It was quite nice to have the chance to wander around the exhibits, looking like I know much more about the art than I actually do, for a couple hours and take in some Irish and other European art.