Saturday, April 17, 2010

The Wrath of Eyjafjallajokull

I know it looks like I passed out and bashed my head against the keyboard, but "Eyjafjallajokull" happens to be the name of that pesky Icelandic volcano. Europe is absolutely crippled by the cloud of ash that has most airports closed until the eruption ends––and no one knows when that will be. Things are especially problematic in Ireland and Britain. Being islands, there are only a few other travel options: you can take a ferry, or the Chunnel. And from what I've been reading, all ferry and Chunnel crossings are sold out.

The eruption has been anticlimactic for us so far. All I see is a clear blue sky, no ominous cloud of ash! But that will change soon. According to the an article from the Washington Post, Scottish health authorities said that this weekend we'll see the ash "wafting to the ground...producing a dusty haze and a strong sulfuric smell akin to that of rotten eggs." Sweet! My first encounter with volcanic ash.

To recap, in Ireland we have seen the worst flooding in centuries, the coldest winter in a lifetime, and now a massive volcanic eruption. As far as natural phenomenon this trip hasn't been disappointing!

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Some of the cliffs at the entrance to the Old Head. Notice the ancient
fortification wall in the foreground.


Now for the promised report on my trip to Old Head. The work I was doing there, as predicted, was dull and I therefore won't talk about it. But the weather was perfect and the scenery beautiful.

The view from the clubhouse's patio. Not a shabby place to
play a €200 round of golf or have a €15 drink, is it?



I had to spend two work days at the Old Head Links. Not too long after I left on Monday a guy plunged to his death off of the cliffs––a very scenic suicide. This last photo was taken on Tuesday; apparently they were still looking for his body. The chopper was slowly working its way along the coastline. Anyway, it made for a neat shot with the lighthouse in view.

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I had an interesting cab ride back from the airport on Tuesday (I had to take cabs from City Centre to the airport each day, because that's the only place where one can rent a car in Cork!). The driver and I engaged in the obligatory small talk at first--he told me that he drives a Harley, and did a two-month motorcycle trip across the United States. He also told me about the way Old Head used to be before it was colonized by the upper-bourgeois. "'Twas a very wild place, Old Head. I used to go out there with me shotgun and blast away at the sea gulls. 'Twas cruel of me, yes, but I like to think they would have done the same if they had shotguns."

This is where the conversation turned from harmless to serious. Referring to the recent bank bailouts (see previous entries), my driver made it clear he was disgusted by the €54 billion hole Ireland dug itself. "For a small country, for a country with only one million full-time employees, 'tis a grave." He then told me his big plans: "I think it's time for some assassinations, starting at the top and working down the line. Somebody needs to take out these politicians."

"Still have the old shotgun?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I have plenty of guns. But a shotgun would be too good for them. The person that takes them out will be a hero to the people. I'm an old man [he was about 70] that has nothing to lose, so it looks like it will have to be me. They don't hang people anymore, so what are they going to do? Throw me in jail for the rest of my life?" He laughed at the prospect.

We arrived at my apartment. "I'm a real Cork man, a true rebel, and I'll shoot them all," he concluded. By this point he was also referring to the "foreign" cab drivers who undercut Irish cabbies, robbing the latter of business. All I could think to say was "Well, good luck with that. Your secret is safe with me."


Link

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Beerfest

I hope everyone had a good Easter, even if it didn't mean a three-day weekend (which is what it always means here). Our visit to the Franciscan Well's Easter Beerfest was excellent. Their beer garden was lined with stalls representing different Irish microbreweries––my favorite was Molly's Chocolate Truffle Stout. I have seen Molly's beers in the States, you come across them once in a while. Keep an eye out for this particular brew!

I got my pay stub for the week of our trip to Edinburgh. I only worked two days that week, so the pay should have been a small one. But I was surprised to see that they gave me a full week's wage. My conscience (and Katherine) dictated that I talk to my boss about this overpayment. As it turns out, they didn't make a mistake: I was given vacation days. Talk about something that would never happen in the US! Work a temporary position––even a part-time one––in Ireland and you accumulate paid vacation based on the number of hours you put in. One vacation day for every hundred hours in my case.

Tomorrow I get to go on my first and probably last business trip for warehouse work. The company shipped a thousand or so embroidered shirts to Old Head Golf Club in Kinsale, only for the Old Head folks to complain that they weren't correctly tagged. Therefore I get to hire a car and drive to the club and fix the tags. Mindless work, maybe. But at least I'll get to see one of the most beautiful courses in the world. Check it out:

(Sorry, couldn't find a better picture that would fit. Just check out the link I posted above). The Old Head peninsula used to be open to the public until the Celtic Tiger days of the '90s. As the Irish describe it, that's when "rich people" bought up the land and made it one of the most exclusive private clubs in the country.

Stuff like the Old Head controversy doesn't help the average Irish person's view of golf as a solidly elitist activity. I'll put such scandal aside in my mind as I walk around to enjoy the view.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

My Warehouse Twilight

Warehousing and––as of late––another PhD thesis to edit have been cramping Éire Apparent's style. Not to fear, for I will be out of work again soon. The third week of April is the swan song of my career as a stock counter. So be prepared for the return of Brandon the mega-blogger.

As I write, my employment prospects are as bleak as before the warehousing stint. There's still nothing on the horizon other than restauranting and bar tending, and I didn't have much luck in those industries (the whole lack of "experience" thing). If I can manage to procure a nice flow of PhD theses to edit I will be fine––professional editing pays pretty well as it turns out!

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Happy Easter! to those who observe it. Katherine, always the good Catholic, had us go to Easter Mass this morning. Since we slept in we had to go to the noon mass, which turned out to be the traditional Latin Rite. Aye carumba! I now completely understand why Vatican II was necessary. I've never seen priests do so much kneeling and standing and incense (Katherine said maybe the traditional mass was thought up as an exercise routine for the clergy). And there was the slight problem of the incoherently mumbled Latin.

To celebrate Christ's Resurrection Katherine and I are going to an Easter beer festival at the Franciscan Well, something that would make Him proud I'm sure.

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We have joined in with the British/Irish tradition of "Easter Eggs," which are large chocolate....eggs. This is their standard Easter morning treat. Our friend Gemma's family gave us ours: I had a hollow egg that came with some Maltesers, and Katherine had the Cadbury (Kraft) "Flake" version. Good stuff.

My boss as the warehouse, Laurence, had a Jedward Eastern Egg. If you want a vision of the Antichrist, run a Google search for "Jedward." They're a corporate pop duo, and thanks to them we are now being tortured by a resurrection of Vanilla Ice in Ireland. Didn't think bringing back Vanilla Ice was possible? Yeah, I didn't either. Can't wait for the Second Coming of Milli Vanilli!!

If you purchase a Jedward Easter Egg you have a chance at a "golden ticket," which wins you a chance to meet them in person. This is why Laurence chose this egg. Laurence and I are on the same page when it comes to the disaster that is Irish pop radio––he told me that if he had the pleasure to meet Jedward, maybe he would have a chance to take out at least one of them. "Maybe that would kill the magic," he mused. But he didn't get the ticket. And, alas, the problem we face with pop music in Ireland is bigger than Jedward, anyway.

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Anyway, to close I will do my spot for the Scottish Ministry of Tourism. Go to Edinburgh! It's wonderful. And with sterling being weak at the moment, it's downright affordable.