Another Milestone Reached!

OMG!  I still  have to be medicated everytime I think about this one.  Carl, the old fart and I, celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary yesterday.  And that doesn't include the year and a bit we were "living in sin", as it was known back then.  As I had mentioned in an earlier post, I had bought our rings in Galway when I was there.  We had both lost ours somewhere along the lines years earlier and I had thought it appropriate to exchange new ones for our 35th.  That was if we could come up with new contract terms.  After that length of time, the original vows require amendment to reflect the reality of things.  I had refused to have "obey" in the first ceremony anyway, but there were still a few changes to be made.  Obey,  my %$#*.

In any case, after we got rid of the children, it doesn't seem to matter how old they are, they still have a habit of walking into the middle of things, we struck a new deal and exchanged the rings.  It feels odd to have a ring on that finger after all this time.  I'm sure it does for him as well.  The honeymoon over, he's now headed back up to Sorrento for the week to finish a job up there.

Back in the Land of the Living?

I've been back home for just over a week now and am gradually getting used to the time change.  Adjusting to U.K. time was considerably easier than the opposite.  Even so, I'm still like as not to need a sudden nap and will do so at the drop of a hat.  Makes it interesting at work.

As a result of my trip and my experiences in this last semester of school, I've made some decisions and some changes.  One relates to work and changes in earning potential.  I did some research on the potential for professional blogging.  It appears to be a viable idea, though as with everything else, will take some time to work up to decent $'s, if at all.  As a backup plan and one I came across while conducting my research, I decided to kill two birds with one stone.  There are a number of companies that require blog, article, review and similar writers.  By getting a job with one or two of these companies, I figured I could hone my writing skills, improve my own blog writing and earn some money in my newly chosen career choice.

I applied for a couple of these slots; the one is no longer taking this approach or so they say.  It could have been just a polite reject.  The other, however, asked for a sample of my writing after reading my blog then followed up with a request for a couple of very quick corrections.  No sub-heading on the intro or conclusion and to remove the title quotes from the body of the piece and re-submit.  I think, from the correspondence, that I have a new job, but not entirely sure at this point.  I'll have to wait for confirmation.

One of my goals upon my return was to start writing my childrens' books and have started that.  If I can turn out a decent product, the potential for publishing seems to be pretty good from the research I've done on that subject.

There are a couple more plans in the background.  I can't do anything about them yet, but I plan on applying to become a peer tutor and also to look into writing for The Other Press.  That's the Douglas College newspaper.

So, all in all, I am putting my money where my mouth is.  I've done a lot of yapping about the changes returning to school has brought about and the impact this trip has had on me.  Talking about it is one thing, now it's time to act on it.

Home, But Still Moving On

T’is home, I am and glad to be here.  It was a phenomenal trip and one that I am glad I took, but it was time to be wrapping it up.  I missed all of my babies, two legged and four.  Now, the only trick is to get used to the time change and all things Canadian again.  It’s amazing how quickly one adopts the customs; habits, language usage and the way things are and work when overseas. 

If I had to sum up in a couple of words the effect and outcome this trip has had on me, I would have to say “success.”  This past semester has stretched my boundaries in so many ways.  Much of it was way out of my comfort zone and I am proud to be able to say that I believe I met those challenges and did well.  Personal narrative, poetry, blog writing, performing arts, playwriting, map reading, mineral identification and figuring out where north is – yes, I even managed to figure that out.  None of these things were in my repertoire previously, but it had gotten to the point where I’d hung my ass so far out on the branch, that I figured I might as well go all the way.  There was nothing to lose and everything to gain.  I’ve always been one to push the envelope, to one degree and another, but this whole plan of returning to school, going to Scotland and then travelling around the countryside on my own exceeded the limits all the way around.  It’s not the easiest thing for someone my age to do as a “first.”  Thank you, Calvin, Christine and Susan.  I have learned much more from you all than curriculum.

In looking at this experience in that way, I’ve also gained some affirmation, courage and hope in my ability to succeed at the goal I set out for myself when I returned to school.  At the time, the plan was to give myself the chance to get there, not necessarily attaining it.  Now, I have more of a belief that I can succeed.  So much so, that I have made some choices that will take me closer to that and allow me to work towards those career choices.  Carl, bless his boxers, supports me in this as he supported me in my plan to return to school and in trundling off overseas.  I may just keep him around for a while longer.

Looking Homeward

Today it’s off home, I am.  It seems as if I have been here a long time and I suppose I have been.  There are more than a few things that will seem odd when I get back to Canada.  I’ve gotten so used to the way things are and work here.  Just everyday things that become the norm.  Like looking the opposite way for cars when crossing the road or calling chips “crisps.”  Toilets that flush from the wall.  Even escalators run the opposite way around and up is down.

I’m looking forward to getting home.  I miss everyone and my babies.  No doubt Padge will be pissed off for the first five minutes or so, until she forgets why.  Wiggy will just boink and wag himself off his feet.  It’s going to be hard getting back into the normal routine.  And that may not be a bad thing.  After all, going back to school, making this trip, it is all about change.  There have been a few very positive pointers that show me that that change is possible.  My review has been deemed “publishable” and the suggestion put forth that I try to do some work for The Other Press.  The blog has also been a positive and I may be able to parlay that into something as well.

School for September is all set to go.  Classes are registered and my funding for the term is approved.  I would like to do some peer tutoring.  My marks qualify me for it and I am a good teacher.  I just have to decide what to do in other areas and that decision won’t be made until Carl and I have a chance to talk.  If I can write for the paper and tutor…..

As my grandfather would say, “Well, there you go.”

The Search

It was a bit of a scramble getting out this morning.  Not that I’m not very good at packing and unpacking, it was more trying to get everything in, then trying to get out of the place.  By the time all was said and done, I decided that I was taking a taxi to the station, rather than walking.  I’d done quite enough walking, thank you very much.  To get to both Templemore and Galway, I had to get to Heuston Station, which is a good 3 k from Trinity College.  As bus schedules are a little sketchy, I ended up walking. 

Having said that, I did enjoy Galway yesterday.  There are no end of little shops in the “tourist” zone, some with a lot of junk and others with some unique items.  After searching nearly every jewellers in the area, I finally found my ring.  I’d gotten Carl’s pretty much right off the top, buying it even though there was no match to it for me.  But, I liked it very much and I thought he would.  In the end, I got a ring that was somewhat similar to his and that was as good as it was getting.

That called for a sit-down and a pint.  The pint demanded something to eat to go along with it.  I still needed to get back to Dublin in time for the storytelling that evening.  There was still a bit of time after all that, so I meandered around the town a little more, finding a few music stores that demanded my attention.  One had a beautiful Irish harp that I would have given my eyeteeth to own, but they were expensive and there’s always the getting it home problem.  So, I contented myself with a drum.  The word doesn’t quite describe it adequately.  It’s the traditional Gaelic handheld drum with a beater.  I have to admit that I’m still pining for the harp, though.  It’s a good thing I had to get the hell out of Dodge before much longer.

Back in Dublin, I walked once again, not so far this time, to the Brazen Head pub.  It’s the oldest pub in Ireland, built in 1160 or thereabouts.  The evening featured dinner, traditional music and some storytelling – faeries and the like.  The singers were great, mixing song and humour and everyone got very involved very quickly.  There’s no room for being shy in Ireland.

Today now, I am starting my trek back home.  From Dublin to Belfast, then Belfast to the ferry, to the bus, to the train, arriving in Glasgow tonight.  It promises to be a long day.

Templemore

Having gone to Peterhead to visit the place where Carl’s people were born and lived, it was my turn to do likewise.  So, it was off to Templemore.  Normally, it would be an hour and a bit to get there, but yesterday’s trip took almost twice that.  It seems that one of Irish Rail’s trains broke down on the track.  I did make it eventually, but not before having to hear one too many pre-recorded announcements, hoping that I’ve had a “pleasant and enjoyable trip and thank you for choosing Irish Rail.”  By the time I was into over an hour’s delay, it became a tad annoying. 

Church of Ireland

These days, Templemore has grown to a population of about 19,000 bodies.  The first place I visited was the Church of Ireland, not catholic, but close to in terms of pomp and ceremony.  After wandering the graveyard, I was able to locate a couple of gravesites.  There may have been more, but as in Peterhead, many weren’t readable any longer.  Most of the Fitzgerald family left Ireland over two hundred years ago now.  Even so, it was an experience being in the place where my 4x great grandparents were born and walking the same streets they did.

Downtown Templemore

The town itself, especially the downtown core, is an attractive place.  Most of the shops are well cared for and for the most part, seem to be thriving.  Moving out of the immediate area, though, there are many empty and boarded up places looking to be let or bought.  There are some industries on the edge of town, but a couple of those have shut down as well.  Like everywhere in Ireland and Scotland, the best cared for are the pubs.  Oh, and the bookmakers.  Yes, bookies are legal in both places.

I asked around a bit, to see if there were any surviving Fitzgeralds left in the town, but seems not.  If the cemetery is any indication, the last couple died back in 1957 and 1973, both named John and apparently single.  I would have liked to go to Roscrea as well, as that may have been the Talbot site, but being a Sunday, there was no way to get there other than walking or thumbing a ride.  Neither was high on my top ten list of things to do.  The only things open in the entire town were the groceries and the pubs, so after a few hours of exploring, I headed back to the rail station for a return to Dublin.

Tomorrow, Galway and I did un-cheap and book the story-telling for tonight.  It leaves my time in Galway rather short, as I have to back in Dublin and to the Brazen Head by 6:30.  I had intended doing laundry last night after I got back from Templemore, but was more than a bit too tired.  Nor will I be able to do it tonight, as the show isn’t over until 10:00 p.m. and I really should catch 7:35 back to Belfast tomorrow.  There is a later train, but it cuts it a bit close to the time I have to catch the bus for my ferry back to Glasgow.  I’ll have to buy a top or two or go topless.

Update:  The storytelling evening at the Brazen head was just a blast.  There was no such thing as strangers sitting beside one another at the tables.  Combined with a great meal, a bit of the irish history, song and stories, it was a more than enjoyable evening.  The web-site address is http://www.irishfolktours.com/ if you'd like to check it out.

Dublin

The train to Dublin was jam packed and standing room only.  There was a group who was either continuing Friday night’s party or had started up again early Saturday morning.  Made worse by the fact that there was a bar on the train.  They weren’t obnoxious, just loud. 

Golem

The city itself was a zoo with hordes of people rambling around, not paying the slightest bit of attention as to where they were going and what they’re doing.  The weather was beautiful, which no doubt contributed to the volume.  It was the first day that I was able to wear a tank top and wishing that I had shorts.  I am hoping that today will be the same.

It’s almost a different country here.  The Euro is the accepted currency, unlike Northern Ireland which takes either Euros or the pound sterling.  As I had only sterling, I ended up having to go the exchange and convert what I had into Euros, even to be able to check into Trinity College, where I’m staying.  It is also the location of the Book of Kells. 

Freddie Lives

Anyway, after checking in, I headed back out again to go over to the wax museum.  It was well done and covered a bit of everything, from famous authors to the Battle of the Boyne and assorted musicians and actors, Irish or not.  Michael Jackson was included –obviously non-Irish and Jack Nicholson – Irish.  After meandering my way through there, I wandered around town for a while to see what I could see.  Like Inverness, the city is interrupted by a river and the port is not far from the city centre.  It wasn’t long before I realized that getting out of the city was going to be the priority, disliking crowds the way I do.

There is a bar a bit away from the campus that features dinner, music and storytelling.  The only night available to book is Monday, so I started to reserve it, then thought twice about the charges.  It’s not that it’s that outrageous – I’m just throwing one of my cheap fits.  That, even though I’m nearing the end of my trip and having been extremely frugal all along, decided that I would be a little less so.  You can take the woman away from the money, but apparently you can’t take the money away from the woman.

Looking Towards the \Port

It’s a habit that comes in handy at times.  Though I hate to categorize and generalize myself with the rest of my sex, I do gravitate towards bling.  There were more than a few pieces that would have ended up in my baggage had I not reminded myself that, outside of the ring and necklaces that are never taken off, I don’t wear jewellery.  Anything that I might have bought would have ended up in my jewellery box and wouldn’t see the light of days for years on end, so there was little point in buying it.  It’s a sad, sad thing.

Tomorrow, I’ll be seeing where I can escape to, outside of the city.  I had thought to head to Templemore, but my initial searches indicated no way to get there on a Sunday.  My ticket for the train back to Belfast is booked already, as is my ferry ride back to Glasgow.  The only thing that I really need to worry about is my hotel stay for my last night in Scotland before heading home.  It’s hard to realize that it’s coming to an end.  It will be good to be home, but now very different.  I’ve been so long here that things Canadian will seem as odd as they did when I first arrived in the old country.  But, I miss everyone and it’s time to get home.

The Titanic a Century Ago

I did take the on-off bus yesterday, but somehow or another managed to lose my ticket after the third stop.  It was okay, though, as I’d seen what I really wanted to see.  There were a couple more would have like to’s, but as it was already 3:30 and the last tour out was only an hour away…  I’d waited for quite a bit for the bus that I had lost my ticket on, which was taking its own sweet time in showing up.  Finally deciding to say the hell with it, I headed out on foot.  There were a couple of things that we’d passed at the beginning of the tour that I wanted to check out, too.

Titanic Visitors Centre

The highlight of the tour was the stop at the dock where the Titanic was built.  They’ve built a huge visitors centre at the site where her keel was built.  It’s supposed to be shaped like her bow, but as the tour guide remarked, it looks more like the iceberg she hit.  It’s quite the place, in any case.  They run some walking tours and also an indoor tour that takes you through her story.  As I’d already been to the Titanic exhibition in Victoria a few years back, I gave that a pass.  After wandering about the centre for a bit, I walked over to the slip.  There are few signs that remain.  The ramps, the gantry rails and the iron uprights are the only things left that mark her birth.  At the head of the ramps, there is a memorial to all those that lost their lives; two long stretches of glass with names engraved on them.  So many that they fill the heads of both ramps for their entire width.



After waiting for a thundering storm to pass (no pun intended), it was time to head to my next stop.  The pump house and the dry dock slip where she was graved and fitted for her boilers, propellers and the like.  The visitor’s centre there also held tours and that one I decided to take.  The guide was beyond excellent. A true lover of the Titanic, he made the place come alive not only with his words, but with photographs that had been taken at the time.  With those, I could visualize her sitting there, swarms of men fitting her out for her maiden voyage.



The Titanic Dry Dock



The tour took us to the bottom of her slip 44 feet below.  With her keel on the bottom, she rose to three times the height of the White Star building nearby.  Her anchors were nearly the size of one of the support buildings beside the pump house.  Even with the photos, I had a hard time comprehending the size of her.  Like my guide, I’ve been fascinated with her since I first read about her when I was eight or nine.  That’s never changed.  I watch and read everything I can get my hands or eyes on.  To be at the place where she was is indescribable.  Even now, the pride in her building shines through the eyes of Belfastians.

I’ve known about her end for years.  I’ve read about her beginning for years, but to be here….

The Irish Sea

The "Pod" on the Stena Ferry

So, I was yammering on about the ferry service between Cairnryan and Dublin and the difference between the Stena Line and BC Ferries.  I took some pics just to be able to show you what I’m on about.  But, that’s really the end of that subject and on to a new one, which is crossing the Irish Sea and the first glimpse of Ireland.

One of the Portraits on Each
Stair Landing

One of the things that tends to be in the forefront here and in Scotland, is the Second World War.  It’s not something we think about in Canada, other than on Remembrance Day.  Here, there are constant reminders, whether it be the remains of prisoner of war camps, the barriers built between the North Sea and the Atlantic or pillboxes, look-outs and radar stations.  It was real here in Europe, not something we read about or hear about or see in the movies.  When crossing the Irish Sea yesterday, I couldn’t help but think and envision German U-boats patrolling the waters, ready to torpedo any ship that crossed their paths.  I could see the men struggling in the freezing waters.  It was a sobering thought, to say the least.

The Shores of Ireland

The ship was roughly an hour out before I could catch the very first glimpse of land on the horizon.  Even then, it was more of a wish than a reality.  Gradually, it became clearer and before much longer I could make out the fishing villages on the shore with the houses clustered together and painted in bright colours.  It had been a sun and cloud mix coming across and hazy in the distance, but just before we reached harbour, the sun came out and shone on the hills above Belfast.  There’s a reason that Ireland is called the Emerald Isle.  It really is as green as green can be and I’m very much looking forward to going south and away from the city.  Friday, however, I’ll be hopping the on-off bus and touring around, including the Belfast Shipyards where the Titanic was crafted.  I’ll be likely to be needing some more money by the time I get out of there.

The Orkneys and the POWs of WW II

The last couple of days have been hectic, to say the least.  Wednesday was taken up with wandering around Kirkwall before catching the 4:15 back to Inverness, arriving about 9:00 p.m., then yesterday up and off again by 5:30.  This time off to Belfast.  What an expedition that was!  First, there was the train from Inverness to Perth, then from Perth to Queen St. station in Glasgow.  Hop a bus to Glascow Central, where I caught the train to Ayr.  From Ayr, it’s a bus to Cairnryan for the ferry.  I have to tell you, the Stena Lines ferry service makes B.C. Ferries look like a complete joke.  More about that later.  The crossing is just over two hours and I arrived at the Belfast Port.  Another bus to the city centre and finally the hotel.

Back to the ferry.  The place is like a floating hotel.  On the uppermost deck, there are cabins and a spa.  There are lounges and living rooms all over the place, with comfy chairs, sofas, tables and the like.  There is a great playroom for the kids, a video arcade, a mini-casino, cinema and shops that carry everything from the cheesy souvenirs to designer perfumes and jewellery.  There are a couple restaurants and a bar.  And the price of all this, you ask.  The entire trip, start to finish, all ten hours of trains, busses and ferry was a whomping £ 38.  That translates into about CAD $65.  Hello, B.C. Ferries – take note.

Interior of the Italian Chapel

Change of direction and back to the Orkneys.  I traipsed across the Churchill Barrier Wednesday morning to check out the Italian Chapel.  The Italian POWs were given a couple of quonset huts to use for a chapel, but felt that the inside was a little lacking.  With the okie-dokie of the commander of the camp, the POWs then put their skills to use and beautified the interior.  With quite a bit of ingenuity, they made the place quite incredible.  The lanterns hanging from the ceiling on the centre aisle, for example, were made from bully beef tins.  The place is really quite spectacular, given what it is and what materials the POWs had access to.

Lantern From Bully Beef Can

I met up with a very nice lady as I waited for the bus back to Kirkwall and we ended up chatting about the chapel and the camp.  Based on what I had read at the site, it didn’t seem to me that the POWs had had such a bad time during their tenure there and I asked the lady about that. 

“Aye,” she said.  “They had a good time of it.  I have a brooch that my father had them make for me for my birthday.  They very often made and sold things to the villagers.”

She went on to describe the brooch and to tell me more about life in the camp.  Apparently, even their families were allowed to visit them.  It’s certainly a far cry from what I’ve heard about other POW camps in other parts of the world – Japan or Germany.

An Oldie But A Goodie

My tour around this part of the Orkneys yesterday was all about the ancients.  I grabbed the hop-on, hop-off as planned.  It made quite a number of stops, but there was only three that I really wanted to check out.  Really, there was a few more, but I figured I could only cope with the three.

Skerrabra

I started out at Skerrabra.  This is the old name, the new is Skara Brae.  This is a Neolithic village approximately 5,000 years old, located in a cove in the Ness of Brodgar.  It isn’t a large place – about ten dwellings – so the population at the time may have been around fifty to seventy-five people.  These weren’t cave dwellers by any means.  The homes contained shelves and various nooks and crannies for storage of belongings.  Beds were constructed similar to a cradle and would have been filled with soft materials and skins used for blankets.  They made jewellery, pottery and other necessities in a workshop building.  It’s quite an incredible place and just to remind you how far back these people existed, there are a series of marker stones that take you back in time as you get closer to the ruins; first man on the moon, for example, then going back to the birth of Jesus, the Pyramids of Giza and so on. 

Ring of Brodgar

The second stop of my tour was at the Ring of Brodgar.  This is a site similar to Stonehenge and just as mysterious.  The stones are set in a perfect circle, 140 meters around with an outer ditch surrounding it and several burial mounds a short distance away.  There are two entrances into the ring opposite one another, but neither are where two sets of stones are placed closer to one another than all the rest. Interestingly enough, there is a row of single stones leading off down the road towards another smaller ring at Stenness.

Stromness was my last stop of the day.  This is a fishing village built into a cove and a steep hill.  The streets are a combination of cobble and flat limestone.  They are very narrow and twist and turn in every direction.  Alleyways and closes shoot off in every direction, some to another street and others to homes.  The Northlinks Ferry lands and can take you up to the Shetlands, if you’ve a mind.  I would have loved to have done that run, but the timing didn’t work out.  There are only specific days the service runs.  All in all, it’s a beautiful little town, but it would be harsh living in the winter months.  As everywhere I’ve been on the island so far, the wind blows incessantly.  The only difference is in the intensity.

One more quirky note that I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post.  Just down the road a bit from where I’m staying in Holm, there is a totem pole.  It came about as a result of some type of project, but the work was done by some of the carvers of the Squamish First Nations.  Go figure – halfway around the world in a tiny wee burg like Holm and you find a piece of home.

Can Only Go Up From Here

The Highlands are a far cry from Edinburgh and Aberdeen.  Even Inverness, which is a fair bit north from both, hasn’t a patch on what I’ve seen on my way to the Orkneys.  It’s a bit of a jaunt to get here; almost five hours all told, including a forty minute ferry crossing from John O’Groats.  The name comes from a Dutchman who started the original ferry service, I don’t know when and charged a groat for the crossing.

Once I got to Kirkwall, things went downhill pretty quickly.  I headed to the St. Ola hotel to check-in, only to find that my booking had been balled up.  The Kirkwall next door had a room available, but at the not so cheap price of £ 90 per night.  I’m not Scottish for no reason and that was a lot dear for my pocketbook.  The place did have “free” WiFi, so into the bar I went, purchased a Tennants (beer) and fired up the laptop.  One of the places I had considered booking did have a room available, so arranged for that, hopped a bus and headed back to St. Mary’s, Holm to the locals, and checked in.  Wonderful place, the Commodore!  All the comforts and more than I got out of the Ramada in Inverness.

After getting settled, I meandered off down along the coastline, then down the Graemeshall Path.  The shore is all upthrust shelves of rock, black mostly.  On top, looking out to the North Sea are the remains of the World War II defences.  There are a series of barriers across four of the channels that would have allowed free access between the sea and the Atlantic Ocean prior to World War II, but were built to provide safe harbour for the naval fleets that anchored here.  Churchill had ordered the construction and Italian POWs built it.  There is an Italian Chapel that was put up for them on the far side of the barrier.  I haven’t crossed over to see it yet, but it is supposed to be a “not to miss.”

Today I’ll be heading back into Kirkwall and catching a “hop on, hop off” to tour around Stromness, the Bodgard Stones and Skerrabra.  Both of the latter are Neolithic sites and I am looking forward to it.  This posting and yesterdays are going to be up late, as WiFi access is hit and miss in this part of the country.

Not a Dolphin to be Seen

This will be a quick post today, as I’m off to the Orkneys, Kirkwall to be exact, and have to be leaving in a bit.  I did make the Dolphin and Seal Centre yesterday, though I do think I was led astray by one degree and another.  The Centre wasn’t quite what it was set out to be.  Shades of the Merkinch.  I think I’ll have to be passing by any more of these “reserves.”

I had to walk to the blasted place, somewhere in the range of three or four miles.  It ended up being that far, as I followed the A9 route, not knowing the shortcut.  You can imagine how long that took.  Once I arrived, I found that there are no trails or specific sighting spots and the “Centre” a wee building stuck in a corner of the Visitor Information Centre.  Well, now.

I did take the path down to the Village of North Kessock, which lies on the Beauly Firth, underneath the North Kessock Bridge.  On the other side of the bridge is the Moray Firth.  Anyway, I sat for a bit, pulled off a few shots, not of dolphins or seals, however.  Once semi-recovered, I started back over the bridge towards Inverness.  This time I had the shortcut, so was a much easier and quicker walk.

In the evening, meaning about 11:00 p.m., I set out again, wanting to get some night shots of the city.  Being so far north, it’s still relatively light even at that time of the night.  It’s a good thing I have nothing better to do than sit on a bus and ferry for five hours today.  I’m looking forward to the Orkneys.  While the cities are beautiful, I’ve had enough of them for a while and am needing some uncivilized landscapes.