Countdown

Can you believe I only have 14 days left in Ireland!? I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around it...

On Tuesday I gave my 2 weeks notice at work and will be finishing on July 10th. This will give me the 11th to pack and run my final errands before flying to Spain on the 12th. I'm still trying to figure out how to book a seat reservation on the Spanish train from Madrid to Pamplona (apparently this should be done well in advance because they regularly fill-up), but am waiting to hear back from a half dozen e-mails, hopefully containing a bit of advice. Aside from that, I have booked a few nights in a campground in Munich for the first week of Oktoberfest, and have been scouting out other festivals/events throughout Western Europe that I may potentially check out. Turns out there is a TON of stuff going on, especially in Spain. Every town has a huge festival (although I'm not sure if they will be able to live up to the standard set by Logger's Sports Day...)

We were hoping to find somesort of Canada Day celebration around here, but it looks like the closest we are going to get is a live acoustic music session at the Aussie Bar. I was hoping to get over to Trafalgar Square in London for their week-end long celebration, but flights were a bit too expensive. Also, with the recent bomb scare just a few blocks away I'm not sure if I want to be there with all the heightened security.

I have a bit more to say, but I'll save it for my next post (plus, it's time for my lunch break here at work, haha)

Back to Croker

I made it back to Croke Park one last time before I take off (which is fast approaching), and am able to cross another "must-see" event off my list; Gaelic Football. Getting out to the match happened quite by chance, but couldn't have worked out better for me.

On Friday night I met up with Susan and her fellow classmates, who had just finished their last exam of the year, to imbibe a few social beverages in celebration. After a rousing game of beer pong we took off to Dakota, just outside of Temple Bar. On the way over I stopped in to Spy Bar to see Aengus and have a quick Jagger-Bomb for the road. Talking to him, he mentioned that he had an extra ticket to the Dublin v. Offaly match for Sunday and there was no way I could turn it down. I had been looking for tickets earlier, but couldn't get any last week (and didn't particularly want to go on my own).

Saturday I wasn't in the best of shape, but forced myself not to sit on the couch all day. I walked around the city looking for outdoor stores (it would be so much easier if they just had and REI or MEC) looking for camping gear. In the end I only had 4 stores to choose from and settled on some basic, ultra-lite equipment (3/4 length self-infating sleeping pad, 2 season sleeping bag and a Coleman Rigal X2 tent. Combined weight: 2.4kgs). I have looked online and found quite a few campgrounds close to where I plan on visiting, so hopefully I'll get quite a lot of use out of everything. Also, camping over here isn't really like back home at all. At these sites there is typically a grocery store, communal cooking/dining area, laundry facilities and in a lot of instances, even a pool. There are large fields where you pitch your tent (or rent one of the pre-pitched tents already on-site). Not exactly roughing it - it's got pretty much the same facilities as a hostel, only it costs €3-5/night rather than €20-40. Plus, there are a few spots where all the hostels are booked up for the time I plan on being there (Pamplona, Valencia and Munich), so bringing along a bit of gear could come in handy.

The forecast was predicting rain for Sunday (more of the same from the past 2 weeks or so), but it held off until we were comfortably seated in the back-row of the stadium (under the cover of the luxury box seats). Gaelic Football has the same rules as Hurling, so it was easy to pick-up on what was going on. The only real difference between the two is that Hurling is a stick and ball game (very similar to field hockey or lacrosse) where as Gaelic Football is more like soccer or basketball (played with a large ball, which looks like a volleyball).

Just like the soccer game I went to at Croker, there was no alcohol allowed in the stands, but this time it was allowed to be consumed in the concourse area. Unfortunately the demand substantially outweighed the supply and we only had one pint, because the wait to get another was about 20-30 minutes and half-time was only 15... Aengus decided to opt for a hot dog instead, but as luck would have it they were all sold out. I'm not too sure who is running the show there, but there are some serious kinks to be worked out.

Aside from a few brutal, one-sided calls from the referee from Cork, the game went relatively smoothly and Dublin walked away with a 1-12 to 0-10 win (that's 15-10 - goals past the keeper are worth 3 and points through the uprights are worth 1). I took a few pictures, but they aren't all that impressive. You really need to see a live match to get the full feeling of the crowd (77,623 people strong).

I'm down to my last 2 weeks of work, but if last week is any indication, it's going to feel like a whole lot longer than that before I leave.
Last week they offered to extend my contract until the end of Aug. if I was willing to stick around, but had to turn them down when I did a bit of research and found that it would cost me €300 to change the tickets that I have bought so far. The extra money would have been great, but 12-weeks of backpacking around Western Europe beats out working, hands down.

Back to Croker

I made it back to Croke Park one last time before I take off (which is fast approaching), and am able to cross another "must-see" event off my list; Gaelic Football. Getting out to the match happened quite by chance, but couldn't have worked out better for me.

On Friday night I met up with Susan and her fellow classmates, who had just finished their last exam of the year, to imbibe a few social beverages in celebration. After a rousing game of beer pong we took off to Dakota, just outside of Temple Bar. On the way over I stopped in to Spy Bar to see Aengus and have a quick Jagger-Bomb for the road. Talking to him, he mentioned that he had an extra ticket to the Dublin v. Offaly match for Sunday and there was no way I could turn it down. I had been looking for tickets earlier, but couldn't get any last week (and didn't particularly want to go on my own).

Saturday I wasn't in the best of shape, but forced myself not to sit on the couch all day. I walked around the city looking for outdoor stores (it would be so much easier if they just had and REI or MEC) looking for camping gear. In the end I only had 4 stores to choose from and settled on some basic, ultra-lite equipment (3/4 length self-infating sleeping pad, 2 season sleeping bag and a Coleman Rigal X2 tent. Combined weight: 2.4kgs). I have looked online and found quite a few campgrounds close to where I plan on visiting, so hopefully I'll get quite a lot of use out of everything. Also, camping over here isn't really like back home at all. At these sites there is typically a grocery store, communal cooking/dining area, laundry facilities and in a lot of instances, even a pool. There are large fields where you pitch your tent (or rent one of the pre-pitched tents already on-site. Not exactly roughing it - it's got pretty much the same facilities as a hostel, only it costs €3-5/night rather than €20-40. Plus, there are a few spots where all the hostels are booked up for the time I plan on being there (Pamplona, Valencia and Munich), so bringing along a bit of gear could come in handy.

The forecast was predicting rain for Sunday (more of the same from the past 2 weeks or so), but it held off until we were comfortably seated in the back-row of the stadium (under the cover of the luxury box seats). Gaelic Football has the same rules as Hurling, so it was easy to pick-up on what was going on. The only real difference between the two is that Hurling is a stick and ball game (very similar to field hockey or lacrosse) where as Gaelic Football is more like soccer or basketball (played with a large ball, which looks like a volleyball).

Just like the soccer game I went to at Croker, there was no alcohol allowed in the stands, but this time it was allowed to be consumed in the concourse area. Unfortunately the demand substantially outweighed the supply and we only had one pint, because the wait to get another was about 20-30 minutes and half-time was only 15... Aengus decided to opt for a hot dog instead, but as luck would have it they were all sold out. I'm not too sure who is running the show there, but there are some serious kinks to be worked out.

Aside from a few brutal, one-sided calls from the referee from Cork, the game went relatively smoothly and Dublin walked away with a 1-12 to 0-10 win (that's 15-10 - goals past the keeper are worth 3 and points through the uprights are worth 1). I took a few pictures, but they aren't all that impressive. You really need to see a live match to get the full feeling of the crowd (77,623 people strong).

I'm down to my last 2 weeks of work, but if last week is any indication, it's going to feel like a whole lot longer than that before I leave.
Last week they offered to extend my contract until the end of Aug. if I was willing to stick around, but had to turn them down when I did a bit of research and found that it would cost me €300 to change the tickets that I have bought so far. The extra money would have been great, but 12-weeks of backpacking around Western Europe beats out working, hands down.

Fight Night in Belfast

Last night was the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC 72), and it was an experience to say the least.
There is no denying that Belfast is a city of contrasts. With a collection of "former" IRA members and Red Hand Defenders/Commandos present (usually distinguished by large forearm tattoos) I wasn't sure what to expect. [Please excuse the fact that I didn't get any pictures of said tattoos, but in the interest of my personal health I decided to avoid any possible confrontation with these guys]. It didn't help that my co-workers looked at me like I was a complete idiot going to a fight in Northern Ireland. The area has become more of a tourist point-of-call in the past few years as the Peace Process has strengthened, but there are still places you avoid, and things you just don't do (like getting into a discussion of religion/politics with these guys and taking pictures of them as if they were some sort of attraction.)
That being said, I have never seen a better group of fans.

I got to the city around noon and just walked around taking in the sights. Doors were at 5, so I went over around that time to find that they had formed ONE line to the front gate. Now, the Odessey Arena isn't all that big (capacity ~10,000), but when you get all of these people in single file it becomes quite a scene. I guess everyone has been trained by the hundreds of hours waiting in line at ATMs, because even though it snaked all over the field in front of the entrance, it moved fairly quickly.

I grabbed a beer (which was actually the same price as I would pay in a pub in Dublin, about $6), and made my way to my seat to people watch and wait for things to get started. Just before things were set to begin I saw that someone was walking around with a bit of an entourage and everyone ran down to the middle of the area to take pictures. I decided to join in and ran down the stairs with my camera - Dana White was making his rounds. He ended up signing autographs and talking to people for almost an hour. I think Joe Rogan might have been on the other side of the ring, but I couldn't quite see.

The night opened up with Irish themed preliminary bouts, featuring a few fighters from the Belfast area, as well as an American that goes by the names Irish Hand Grenade and The Celtic Warrior. They weren't great fights by any means, but it got the crowd whipped into a frenzy like you wouldn't believe.

The first three fights of the Main Card were pretty decent, with Ed Herman living up to his own ego and taking a second round win by rear naked choke. I was surprised, but happy, with a win by Jason MacDonald (from New Glasgow, NS - fighting out of Edmonton) over Rory Singer - what was especially entertaining was the crowd singing Old MacDonald throughout the fight, haha. The best fight of the night, in my opinion, was between Tyson Griffin and Clay Guida. Being lightweights they had insane stamina and fought hard and fast through the entire match. Clay was the definite favorite as the fight progressed and everyone was shocked when a split decision awarded Griffin with a win. I think Guida probably could have edged out the win if he had cut his hair beforehand (see picture) - he took more than a couple shots to the face as he was trying to combing it away from his eyes... Still, the fact that it was such a close match, and that he was a fan favorite, will ensure he'll fight another day.

The headlining matches were a bit of a letdown, but the atmosphere of the Forrest Griffin fight was unreal. Forrest seemed to win without all that much contest, but would move in for a few shots then back off and re-set, just as he had Ramirez in a position to finish things. He even said at the end of the fights that he is a bit hesitant after getting knocked out in his last match against The Dean of Mean, Keith Jardine.
The crowd was vocal the entire time with chants and soccer songs, cheering on Forrest.

The final fight of the night was nothing special and ended in a decision for Yushin Okami over Rich Franklin. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to see the end of this fight - I only stayed for the first round before running for my bus. I'm not sure if it was something I ate or just quite what, but I had a bit of a headache through the afternoon, which broke into a full-blown fever/cold-sweats by the end of the preliminary fights (and yes Mom, I only had the one beer . . .). I sat tight, as there was no way I was going to duck out on things at that point, but decided after 5 hours in the area that the 11pm bus back to Dublin was looking a whole lot better than waiting in the rain until 1am for the next one, feeling the way that I did. I passed right out on the bus, woke-up in Dublin and staggered home to crash in bed. Still not feeling the greatest, but at least it's Sunday and I have the whole day to lounge around.

Did anyone catch the fights at home there? Was it aired live, or held over?

Happy Father's Day Dad.

Jill is outta here like she stole something

That's right, Jill pulled a runner and has moved out of the flat. I came home home on Friday and heard a bit of chat that she was thinking about moving, but that was it. The next time I saw her all her stuff was packed up and she was headed out the door. Not to worry though, we posted the vacant spot online and our new flatmate, Christian, moved in today. Finally, another guy around to even the odds a bit after almost 7 months of being the sole male . . .
That now leaves Whitney and I as the only remaining originals, but even I'm taking off in a few short weeks.

Not much to report other than that.
The Irish have stopped complaining about the rain and are now complaining about the heat. Either way, they end up inside a pub to escape the weather (whatever it might be).

Working [sic] in Ireland

If the facts stated on the radio have any truth to them, then I have a hard time trying to understand how anything gets done in Europe at all . . . The DJ stated that in the whole of the European Union, people in Ireland work the longest hours. From what I have observed myself, the average work day is from 9am-4:30pm with a one hour lunch break and a couple breaks for tea. Also, people get about 4 weeks of holidays a year. With a rough calculation this works out to 30 hours of actual "work time" per week and just under 1500 hours per year (about 75% of what we would consider to be average). I had been coming into work a bit early, but was told to stop because I was "working too much". As I am on contract and get paid by the hour I figured that if there was work to do, then I would come in and get some of it done (but that doesn't seem to be the objective in this office). Most people come in a bit late and usually leave a bit early (what they actually do in a day, I'm not really sure). However, as I write this I realize that a lot can be accomplished in a short amount of time, if it is used to its fullest; unfortunately, this hasn't been the case in my experience.

Sadly, I've become a living example of the Irish work ethic, as I am writing this from my desk at work (MSN is on in the background behind my spreadsheet too) and am about to leave work at 4pm. I'm going to have a battle ahead of me when I actually have to adjust to a full work week again - luckily that is still a LONG ways off, haha.

Currently reading: The Naked and the Dead, by Norman Mailer - enjoying it, but struggling to get through the whole thing before it's due back at the library.

Start of the (apparently) Long Weekend

It turns out that this is a Bank Holiday Weekend; little did I know, or I would have made plans ahead of time to get out and do something. Unfortunately, I found out on Friday afternoon and hostels on the Aran Islands were booked solid. There are a few last things I want to do/see around the city before leaving next month, so I decided to tackle those instead.

Last night I talked 2 of my flatmates (the other is in London for the weekend) into coming with me to check out "the dogs" (no, not prowling Temple Bar for Hen parties - I'm talking about the Greyhound Track). Seeing as the only forms of entertainment around here revolve around drinking and gambling, it was no surprise that the track was packed with people, young and old. There didn't seem to be any restriction (or at least no enforcement) of a minimum age to bet, as kids that were barely old enough to tie their own shoes were pushing ahead of me in line. At least they're learning fractions, right . . .?

Just like at the track back home, there is a large population of pensioners placing HUGE bets on the dogs with the perkiest tail and ears. I don't know if senility gives them some sort of edge, but if the bankroll of the old guy I was standing next to is any indicator, they must have animal telepathy or the like.

The betting system here is a bit different than back home, but is easy enough to pick up on.
On the night there were 11 races, and we all won on at least a race or two (although none of us came out of it a winner). Still, it's probably the cheapest form of entertainment in the city.

Now I've got 3 more days and no real plans. If the rain holds off at all, which seems very unlikely by the look of things right now, I'll try to get out to Newgrange. Otherwise I will most likely see the latest movies that came out this weekend (The Hitcher, Flyboys and Paradise Lost).

Pics from the night