I've been in Europe now for almost three months and will admit I am beginning to get tired and miss home. I miss the Mpls lakes. I miss family. Friends. I wouldn't mind some green curry at chiang mai thai (I know I can get amazing food here, but it's the familiarness that I'm missing). I suppose the honeymoon period of my travels is ending? Or perhaps it's just the msg-induced haze I've been experiencing today (went out for Vietnamese last night with friends from home). I plan to do this for a full year, travel, pet-sit, house-sit, or until I run out of resources. I am recalibrating myself, clearing the slate, so that I am better able to listen to my inner voice rather than be cluttered by all the background noise telling me what I should be doing with my life. Uprooting myself and leaving my creature comforts behind allows me to do this more easily--when I am too comfortable I get clogged up with rootedness and feel like I stop growing. I am currently reading one of the professor's books, What Should I DO With My life?, by Po Bronson. It's a good read so far and I recommend it for anyone feeling like they need a change or are unfullfilled but might be too afraid to take the steps necessary. It's not like I want to just blow around in the wind forever and ever, I'm just searching for something more fulfilling, wherever that might take me.
After a short visit home the end of September, I head to Argentina. I have not found any house-sits for the winter (and although there were many listed for England (I was asked if I wanted to stay here again over the holidays for a month), France, and Ireland, I do not want to have a dreary winter in Europe, as spoiled as that may sound) and plan to travel around the country and spend time in Buenos Aires. Hopefully my cousin, who will be off from firefighting season, can join me for part of it.
Things are good here all in all, I am getting to know the animals better and enjoying them more, we are bonding. I really do like animals, but only after I get to know them. Does this sound cruel? I feel the same way about children and people in general--doesn't everybody? I don't know. The thing with animals and children though is that you get to know them so quickly, they are so honest with their personalities, so trusting, while there are adults that you can know for years and years and not really know the first thing about them.
Riley and I went over to Hampstead Heath the other day and had a really nice walk; Riley was able to get in the water a little bit (I guess he is very fond of swimming), but we had to steer clear of the swans--the professor told me that they will try to drown Riley by sitting on him and pulling him under the water. This sounds awful! Who knew swans could be so vicious.
The situation next door has gotten unbelieveably bad. There was not yelling, but screaming like I've never heard before coming through the walls and windows. The flat was rattling. I could hear the child (I've figured there is only one child) screaming and then laughing and then crying and then screaming along to his parents' all out brawl. I was beginning to wonder if I should call the police, do something??
Then around the corner the other day, a disoriented old man stood on the sidewalk exposing himself as a group of mothers with children walked in his direction. The mothers began hollering, Oh! Put it away old man! Put it away!! This was something I really wish I hadn't seen. Also, I saw two people make an exchange, some brightly colored candy for a chunk of change. It's feeling a little seedy around here. I guess you can't really choose just exactly what kind of day you're going to have as I naively said in a previous post. I'm glad the parks are nearby. I do love the energy and the mix of everything, but I'm beginning to crave fresh air, sunshine, perhaps some space from people. I haven't even been here that long. But it seems like you have the whole world right in your face, which is great when you are in the mood for it, but when you aren't, well, it can be a little exhausting. This is not a good city to be tired in.
The Vanessa Regrave play, The Year of Magical Thinking, was phenomenal. I had goosebumps throughout the whole thing. It was a very sad story, a true story of Joan Didion's tragic loss of her husband and then daughter in the same year. Vanessa Redgrave delivered it like she was having an intense conversation with an intimate friend.
Hope all is well with everyone, I've attempted to watch Obama's speech on the web but have had trouble downloading it--sounds like it was pretty inspiring!
(I promise I'll have brighter, cheerier things to say next time. I swear, it's the msg.)
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
News from London, Part II
For this pet-sit, I am in the neighborhood of Camden Town, London. This is the home of the London indie-rock band scene, Amy Winehouse, the Camden Market and canals, Regent's Park, and a hodgepodge of people, restaurants, pubs, shops, etc. It is a very exciting but also comfortable part of London. You have the Hobgoblin pub around the corner a few blocks with heavy metal death music and then Fresh&Wild a few blocks down the other way, a Whole Foods boutique (I was, sadly to say, very excited to go in here and buy some organic tofu--but alas, there was no Kombucha). The Jazz Cafe is a few blocks in another direction where De La Soul is playing all week. Londoners walk around dressed to the t or even in sweatpants, but for the most part, their style seems more like a work of art, punkish, fun, inventive and at the same time looks completely effortless. I love just walking around to see what everyone is wearing. So, this is the area I'm in. I feel like I'm in the center of everything and am able to choose just exactly what kind of day I feel like having just by where I want to go, what I want to look at. My first evening here I was greeted for dinner at a nearby gastropub, the Crown and Goose, by a friend from elementary school that has been living here since she graduated college. It was a very nice time and lots of fun getting caught up!
The flat I'm taking care of is on a quiet street, but there's hustle and bustle just around the corner. It's quite nice and spacious, but the walls are unfortunately paper thin and I was kept awake the other night by the neighbors upstairs having a late-night fight and then heard the neighbors nextdoor yelling this morning, the woman saying, I'm [expletive] leaving him!! The professor, who owns the flat, had warned me about them, saying that she and some others are on the verge of calling child services because the children just sit in front of the TV (too young to be in school) and there is yelling sometimes all through the night. It hasn't been too bad, but I do see right into their TV room from the bedroom here, and the TV is either on or the curtain is drawn.
It's funny how the professor seems to be almost the opposite from the Piggys, from what I could gather during the little bit of time we spent getting to know each other. She raves about Marks&Spencers ready-to-eat dinners, while the wife would bake things from scratch often using the freshly-laid eggs and normally had a bountiful supply of vegetables growing in the garden. The professor doesn't recycle, the wife made it clear that nothing gets wasted, leftovers are either composted or fed to the chickens, everything was to be recycled. Nature flowed inside and out in the Irish cottage, while at the London flat all of the plants and flowers are fake. They both, however, construct their own cabinetry.
Some of the professor's requests in the packet she left for me were no drinking red wine in the bathtub, those are expensive limestone tiles and the wine would stain, and no standing on the sink to look in the mirror, because it does not have much keeping it up. Keep the windows shut or put a wire window contraption in it so the cat can't fall out.... I have a couple of windows open with the little fence thing--here I'm more worried about rats getting in! (There was a dead rat at my Ireland house-sit that I found outside of the shed, floating in a pie tin. Very disgusting, especially after it was infested with maggots! I could not touch it and did not want the chickens to start pecking at it, so I covered it up with a mound of dirt.) Here, I figure the animals are keeping the (most likely hoards of) rats away.
There is also quite a bit of dog and cat hair here in the flat, as you might imagine from looking at the photos of my furry friends. The thought of Riley collecting germs and small insects wherever he goes in his billowy coat makes it hard sometimes to fall asleep, I start feeling completely itchy and find it hard to breathe, like I'm inhaling the inside of a vacuum cleaner.
It's been really fun getting to know Camden and see the area with a dog as my companion. Riley is greeted by friendly smiles wherever we go and has been filmed many times by tourists (yesterday it was some Japanese people) as he goes by in the park. That is something that I really enjoy when walking Riley, how you see everyone's faces light up--what would the world be like without dogs? They bring so much joy to people.
Anyway, besides walking the dog, I've been filling my days with a variety of activities. Last week, I ventured over to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre on the Thames and went to see Timons of Athens in the famous open-air theater. You can stand as a groundling or sit on a wooden bench. I took the wooden bench with limited views, the cheapest of seated tickets. It was really neat to get to see the theater and think about all that William Shakespeare has given us with his talent, but I have to say that my limited views (I could hardly hear or see anything) from a very hard wooden bench and an American sitting next to me that ate through the whole first half, I had no idea what was even going on in the play, so I left during the intermission. I was also thinking that the animals had been alone for quite a while and after the day before, when Riley got into my suitcase and ate the box of lemon cookies that the Piggys brought me back from Italy and threw up and had diarrhea everywhere, I'd better get back.
Continuing to explore the area nearby, I spent an evening having dinner in the Primrose Hill neighborhood, about a 15 minute walk from the flat, hoping to spot some of my favorite British celebrities, Hugh Grant and Jude Law, both whom live in this neighborhood. I had walked Riley around this area earlier and we went to the top of Primrose Hill park and had an amazing view of the city--it just seemed to go on and on. Seeing the industrial skyline made me even more appreciative to be staying in a greener section of town, with some "lungs," Regent's Park. Anyway, I didn't see any celebrities, and probably will not continue my celebrity hunt because I realize really how dumb that is, but I did see some beautiful homes. It felt more like a really nice suburb where you can imagine one could easily forget that a buzzing metropolis awaits just a tube stop away.
I also went to the Wellcome Collection, a museum nearby that has more science-related exhibits (and it was free as are all of London's museums!). Here I saw a collection of skeletons that have been uncovered over the years during excavations for new construction all around the city. Graveyards that were built upon or forgotten, etc. It really was a fascinating exhibit, skeletons that were anywhere from Roman times, when London was called Londinium, to the Black Death years, to the 1800s. The scientists studied the bones and were able to come up with ideas as to what they ate, what diseases they suffered from (rickets was quite common as well as syphilis), what injuries they had, if they were obese, how old they were, what they most likely died from, etc. It was pretty amazing to think that you could have your physical life story told through your bones. There was a man from Roman times found whose teeth were completely ground down because the diet was very gritty--the lack of crevices actually protected the teeth from developing cavities. Another man was found with an arrowhead lodged in his spine that had bone growth over it, his body just took it in and adapted. There was another of a little girl that had been born with syphilis. Her bones were so brittle and tiny and her skull looked more like lumpy fruit, very sad. There was a man who had broken ribs, some that had healed, some that hadn't, and a huge dent in his head. The scientists hypothesized that the man, like many others found in the area, was most likely stumbling home drunk on a regular basis and falling down the steep stairways nearby. I found this all very fascinating as you can see! I could go on and on.
Of course another well-known fact about London is the plethora of great Indian restaurants, one of my top favorite ethnic foods. I don't think I could ever get tired of Indian food and plan to do my fair share of eating it while I am here. Yesterday I went to a place nearby and ordered the Ayurvedic vegetarian thali dish and was in heaven!
So, today I will take Riley for his walk/run--I was thinking we might head over to Hampstead Heath, a supposedly beautiful part of town a bit north of here that is very woodsy and wild. Then I have a ticket to see Vanessa Redgrave in a play called the Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. I am looking forward to that and planning to be able to hear and see everything--a small theater, a one-woman show, and I don't think there were even any restricted views seats to sell.
I feel incredibly lucky to be here and can't believe how this all worked out! The internet can open up doors that I would never have imagined just a few years ago. I am incredibly grateful that I found some people that trusted me to step into their daily lives for a few days and given me these opportunities.
Hope everyone is well!
The flat I'm taking care of is on a quiet street, but there's hustle and bustle just around the corner. It's quite nice and spacious, but the walls are unfortunately paper thin and I was kept awake the other night by the neighbors upstairs having a late-night fight and then heard the neighbors nextdoor yelling this morning, the woman saying, I'm [expletive] leaving him!! The professor, who owns the flat, had warned me about them, saying that she and some others are on the verge of calling child services because the children just sit in front of the TV (too young to be in school) and there is yelling sometimes all through the night. It hasn't been too bad, but I do see right into their TV room from the bedroom here, and the TV is either on or the curtain is drawn.
It's funny how the professor seems to be almost the opposite from the Piggys, from what I could gather during the little bit of time we spent getting to know each other. She raves about Marks&Spencers ready-to-eat dinners, while the wife would bake things from scratch often using the freshly-laid eggs and normally had a bountiful supply of vegetables growing in the garden. The professor doesn't recycle, the wife made it clear that nothing gets wasted, leftovers are either composted or fed to the chickens, everything was to be recycled. Nature flowed inside and out in the Irish cottage, while at the London flat all of the plants and flowers are fake. They both, however, construct their own cabinetry.
Some of the professor's requests in the packet she left for me were no drinking red wine in the bathtub, those are expensive limestone tiles and the wine would stain, and no standing on the sink to look in the mirror, because it does not have much keeping it up. Keep the windows shut or put a wire window contraption in it so the cat can't fall out.... I have a couple of windows open with the little fence thing--here I'm more worried about rats getting in! (There was a dead rat at my Ireland house-sit that I found outside of the shed, floating in a pie tin. Very disgusting, especially after it was infested with maggots! I could not touch it and did not want the chickens to start pecking at it, so I covered it up with a mound of dirt.) Here, I figure the animals are keeping the (most likely hoards of) rats away.
There is also quite a bit of dog and cat hair here in the flat, as you might imagine from looking at the photos of my furry friends. The thought of Riley collecting germs and small insects wherever he goes in his billowy coat makes it hard sometimes to fall asleep, I start feeling completely itchy and find it hard to breathe, like I'm inhaling the inside of a vacuum cleaner.
It's been really fun getting to know Camden and see the area with a dog as my companion. Riley is greeted by friendly smiles wherever we go and has been filmed many times by tourists (yesterday it was some Japanese people) as he goes by in the park. That is something that I really enjoy when walking Riley, how you see everyone's faces light up--what would the world be like without dogs? They bring so much joy to people.
Anyway, besides walking the dog, I've been filling my days with a variety of activities. Last week, I ventured over to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre on the Thames and went to see Timons of Athens in the famous open-air theater. You can stand as a groundling or sit on a wooden bench. I took the wooden bench with limited views, the cheapest of seated tickets. It was really neat to get to see the theater and think about all that William Shakespeare has given us with his talent, but I have to say that my limited views (I could hardly hear or see anything) from a very hard wooden bench and an American sitting next to me that ate through the whole first half, I had no idea what was even going on in the play, so I left during the intermission. I was also thinking that the animals had been alone for quite a while and after the day before, when Riley got into my suitcase and ate the box of lemon cookies that the Piggys brought me back from Italy and threw up and had diarrhea everywhere, I'd better get back.
Continuing to explore the area nearby, I spent an evening having dinner in the Primrose Hill neighborhood, about a 15 minute walk from the flat, hoping to spot some of my favorite British celebrities, Hugh Grant and Jude Law, both whom live in this neighborhood. I had walked Riley around this area earlier and we went to the top of Primrose Hill park and had an amazing view of the city--it just seemed to go on and on. Seeing the industrial skyline made me even more appreciative to be staying in a greener section of town, with some "lungs," Regent's Park. Anyway, I didn't see any celebrities, and probably will not continue my celebrity hunt because I realize really how dumb that is, but I did see some beautiful homes. It felt more like a really nice suburb where you can imagine one could easily forget that a buzzing metropolis awaits just a tube stop away.
I also went to the Wellcome Collection, a museum nearby that has more science-related exhibits (and it was free as are all of London's museums!). Here I saw a collection of skeletons that have been uncovered over the years during excavations for new construction all around the city. Graveyards that were built upon or forgotten, etc. It really was a fascinating exhibit, skeletons that were anywhere from Roman times, when London was called Londinium, to the Black Death years, to the 1800s. The scientists studied the bones and were able to come up with ideas as to what they ate, what diseases they suffered from (rickets was quite common as well as syphilis), what injuries they had, if they were obese, how old they were, what they most likely died from, etc. It was pretty amazing to think that you could have your physical life story told through your bones. There was a man from Roman times found whose teeth were completely ground down because the diet was very gritty--the lack of crevices actually protected the teeth from developing cavities. Another man was found with an arrowhead lodged in his spine that had bone growth over it, his body just took it in and adapted. There was another of a little girl that had been born with syphilis. Her bones were so brittle and tiny and her skull looked more like lumpy fruit, very sad. There was a man who had broken ribs, some that had healed, some that hadn't, and a huge dent in his head. The scientists hypothesized that the man, like many others found in the area, was most likely stumbling home drunk on a regular basis and falling down the steep stairways nearby. I found this all very fascinating as you can see! I could go on and on.
Of course another well-known fact about London is the plethora of great Indian restaurants, one of my top favorite ethnic foods. I don't think I could ever get tired of Indian food and plan to do my fair share of eating it while I am here. Yesterday I went to a place nearby and ordered the Ayurvedic vegetarian thali dish and was in heaven!
So, today I will take Riley for his walk/run--I was thinking we might head over to Hampstead Heath, a supposedly beautiful part of town a bit north of here that is very woodsy and wild. Then I have a ticket to see Vanessa Redgrave in a play called the Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. I am looking forward to that and planning to be able to hear and see everything--a small theater, a one-woman show, and I don't think there were even any restricted views seats to sell.
I feel incredibly lucky to be here and can't believe how this all worked out! The internet can open up doors that I would never have imagined just a few years ago. I am incredibly grateful that I found some people that trusted me to step into their daily lives for a few days and given me these opportunities.
Hope everyone is well!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
News from London, part I
The last couple of weeks or so have been quite a mixed bag. I was waiting to write something in Ireland until I had done some things worth writing about, but then the internet connection went down and stayed down the rest of my stay, not that it was that eventful, still.
In Kinvarra:
After getting up my nerve to walk the busy road, I went to a pub in town to listen to a music session, something that western Ireland is quite famous for, and ended up talking to some of the locals until 2am, one of whom claimed to be the best fiddler in Ireland (and his friends affirmed this). Needless to say, I may've also gotten a snippet of what I later learned was quite common in town, alcoholism that runs rampant. The fiddler said he'd been drunk for three days. Yikes! I don't think I'd ever been out this late in Ireland before and experienced firsthand a lockdown--at 12:30, the legal closing time, they lock the doors and pull the curtains so that police think the pub is closed. If you want to leave, you are locked out for the rest of the night and you are unable to visit another pub (unless you have a friend at the door to let you in). Anyway, I called a taxi to take me back to the chicken ranch and as we were driving down that scary road I saw how completely pitch black it got at night and could not see anything! I did not leave any lights on and prayed that I would be able to find the house. I made a lucky guess, asked the cab driver to pull into a driveway, and it thank the lord was the right home. I will say that it was not just paranoia that kept me off that road, but gut instinct to keep me protected--that weekend, which was a very popular weekend to be out due to the Galway horse races and the fact that most people were on holiday the week before and the week after, three people were hit walking the roads. Most likely in the dark and drunk, but still, it happens. I never ended up riding the bike. Too scared.
Besides taking in my solitude and almost going completely batty by the end from the isolation, I also went to a banquet at the medieval castle in town. I wouldn't recommend it and would most likely never do it again. Although it was cool to be inside the castle and hear some poetry and harp music, I think live jousting at Medieval Times outside of Chicago might be more worth the money. The place was full with an American tour group anyway, so I might as well have been in American suburbia. The mead was nice, though. When it was through, I once again was going to take a cab, but when I found out it was going to be two hours one of the actors from the show offered to give me a ride. This time I had left lots of lights on and was able to find it. Those country roads....
So I think I waited out the rest of the week, oh, had lunch with the neighbors which was a little bit awkward. I felt the need to prove to them that I was completely fine at the house so that they would stop coming over to check up on me (they were literally coming into the house calling for me and at one point I hid in the bathroom--it was just getting too weird--and I started locking the door if I was inside). So either I was talking rather loudly and nervously or the mother was talking and most everyone else was silent. One of the sons sat on the couch when he was done eating and started listening to his iPod.
Later that week when the husband and wife (I'm almost tempted to call them the Piggys since that is what they call each other) returned they were truly stunned at their neighbors' behavior because they probably see them once a year! Anyway, I was very happy to see them--they were concerned wondering if I had cabin fever and I almost wanted to cry as I said, a little bit. The next day, the wife took me to the Shannon airport where I flew to Glasgow, Scotland (I thought it was best to depart from Ireland at this point). I was going to walk the West Highland Way, a 95-mile walk in the Scottish Highlands, from Glasgow to Fort William, before setting out for London. The wife was very sweet and sent me off with fruit and egg salad sandwiches, made with freshly-laid eggs, of course. I was a bit sad to leave the Irish couple and still hear the husband calling their dog Barney a spastic and window-licker and the wife telling me to pay no attention to her husband and would I like anything more to eat?
In Scotland:
So after a very rough start trying to get set up in Milngavie (6 miles north of Glasgow), the point of departure for this walk, where there was absolutely no place to stay and I found myself in a pub asking to use a phonebook with a bunch of drunkards telling me I am completely insane to try and walk the West Highland Way with no accomodations booked and no tent and no proper shoes, etc., that in some places the closest hospital is 50 miles away! Had I ever heard of midges? You're going to walk ALONE? What? You were in Ireland on an archaelogical dig? (The Dingle Way.) I will admit though that I was starting to doubt myself. I had no place to stay, had no information on the West Highland Way yet than what I had read on the undiscoveredscotland website. A quiet man at the bar gave me the name of a hotel to call, that I could get a taxi, it was close. Sure enough, they had vacancies at this hotel. And when I got there, I found out an Indian restaurant and a club that stays open and bumping until 3am that I could have free entry into if I so chose. So I had an awful night's sleep and found the whole place rather creepy (men with shaved eyebrows?) but the best part of it was the taxi ride over. I was telling the taxi driver my plans, but that I may need to change them and told him what the men at the pub were saying (one of them did own and run the shop across the street that outifts walkers and prepares people for the WHW, so they weren't all completely clueless morons). He said, what? Are you going to let a bunch of drunks at a pub disway you from doing what you set out to do? And then went on to tell me about his son's experience walking the WHW and how he plans to do it someday himself. It was all very reassuring and kind. But it also made me think, yeah, since when did I start taking advice from drunks in pubs? Listen to your gut!
So, I set out the next day on the West Highland Way. It was to be 7 days of walking, from one little Scottish village to the next. This time I had some new socks, however, and found that old socks were most likely the reason for my horrible blisters in Ireland. This time the only blister problems occurred at the end of the walk and were the same old blisters from before that hadn't gone away yet. There was a great group of people from all over that were on the same schedule as I and at the end of the day there was always a pub where everyone gathered to eat a good meal and have a pint. The scenery was fantastic. The walking was great, challenging only in a few places, but very well laid out and maintained and not much road-walking at all, my main complaint of the Dingle Way. There was a point near Glencoe (more Chicago suburbs) that was comparable I'd say to some places in Glacier National Park, the mountains are majestic, dramatic, heavenly. They truly can take your breath away. To feel like just a speck in the whole of things is such an awesome feeling. The one thing I'd recommend, if anyone is considering this walk, is to not go in August. The midges (insects that are like flying fleas that leave bites that swell up and ooze and itch like crazy) were horrendous in some places, you have to use skin-so-soft and wear a face net--both of which I did not have on me when they first descended and thus have about thirty itchy bites on my legs and arms and cheeks (luckily the bites on my face have not itched or oozed). Anyway, the midges are to be taken seriously and this was the worst time to be around them. There were warnings on windows and doors to not let the midges in--they would travel around in swarms. And some walkers that were camping had the worst of it--they would go into their tents to find them lined with midges, a black film covering the entire interior. Another reason to not go in August is that this is vacation time for the entire continent and hostels were packed (snoring!!!) and sometimes it was hard to get a bed for a decent price. Again, a lot of people were having their bags taken from village to village for a small fee, which would've made things easier, but some of us trucked it along--including a 50+ Danish priest who'd walked the Camino to Santiago in Spain 4 times. Anyway, I greatly enjoyed my time in Scotland, I'd love to spend more time there, there is so much to see! And there are many more walks to do. But it was time to head to the bustling city of London to begin my next pet-sit.
In Kinvarra:
After getting up my nerve to walk the busy road, I went to a pub in town to listen to a music session, something that western Ireland is quite famous for, and ended up talking to some of the locals until 2am, one of whom claimed to be the best fiddler in Ireland (and his friends affirmed this). Needless to say, I may've also gotten a snippet of what I later learned was quite common in town, alcoholism that runs rampant. The fiddler said he'd been drunk for three days. Yikes! I don't think I'd ever been out this late in Ireland before and experienced firsthand a lockdown--at 12:30, the legal closing time, they lock the doors and pull the curtains so that police think the pub is closed. If you want to leave, you are locked out for the rest of the night and you are unable to visit another pub (unless you have a friend at the door to let you in). Anyway, I called a taxi to take me back to the chicken ranch and as we were driving down that scary road I saw how completely pitch black it got at night and could not see anything! I did not leave any lights on and prayed that I would be able to find the house. I made a lucky guess, asked the cab driver to pull into a driveway, and it thank the lord was the right home. I will say that it was not just paranoia that kept me off that road, but gut instinct to keep me protected--that weekend, which was a very popular weekend to be out due to the Galway horse races and the fact that most people were on holiday the week before and the week after, three people were hit walking the roads. Most likely in the dark and drunk, but still, it happens. I never ended up riding the bike. Too scared.
Besides taking in my solitude and almost going completely batty by the end from the isolation, I also went to a banquet at the medieval castle in town. I wouldn't recommend it and would most likely never do it again. Although it was cool to be inside the castle and hear some poetry and harp music, I think live jousting at Medieval Times outside of Chicago might be more worth the money. The place was full with an American tour group anyway, so I might as well have been in American suburbia. The mead was nice, though. When it was through, I once again was going to take a cab, but when I found out it was going to be two hours one of the actors from the show offered to give me a ride. This time I had left lots of lights on and was able to find it. Those country roads....
So I think I waited out the rest of the week, oh, had lunch with the neighbors which was a little bit awkward. I felt the need to prove to them that I was completely fine at the house so that they would stop coming over to check up on me (they were literally coming into the house calling for me and at one point I hid in the bathroom--it was just getting too weird--and I started locking the door if I was inside). So either I was talking rather loudly and nervously or the mother was talking and most everyone else was silent. One of the sons sat on the couch when he was done eating and started listening to his iPod.
Later that week when the husband and wife (I'm almost tempted to call them the Piggys since that is what they call each other) returned they were truly stunned at their neighbors' behavior because they probably see them once a year! Anyway, I was very happy to see them--they were concerned wondering if I had cabin fever and I almost wanted to cry as I said, a little bit. The next day, the wife took me to the Shannon airport where I flew to Glasgow, Scotland (I thought it was best to depart from Ireland at this point). I was going to walk the West Highland Way, a 95-mile walk in the Scottish Highlands, from Glasgow to Fort William, before setting out for London. The wife was very sweet and sent me off with fruit and egg salad sandwiches, made with freshly-laid eggs, of course. I was a bit sad to leave the Irish couple and still hear the husband calling their dog Barney a spastic and window-licker and the wife telling me to pay no attention to her husband and would I like anything more to eat?
In Scotland:
So after a very rough start trying to get set up in Milngavie (6 miles north of Glasgow), the point of departure for this walk, where there was absolutely no place to stay and I found myself in a pub asking to use a phonebook with a bunch of drunkards telling me I am completely insane to try and walk the West Highland Way with no accomodations booked and no tent and no proper shoes, etc., that in some places the closest hospital is 50 miles away! Had I ever heard of midges? You're going to walk ALONE? What? You were in Ireland on an archaelogical dig? (The Dingle Way.) I will admit though that I was starting to doubt myself. I had no place to stay, had no information on the West Highland Way yet than what I had read on the undiscoveredscotland website. A quiet man at the bar gave me the name of a hotel to call, that I could get a taxi, it was close. Sure enough, they had vacancies at this hotel. And when I got there, I found out an Indian restaurant and a club that stays open and bumping until 3am that I could have free entry into if I so chose. So I had an awful night's sleep and found the whole place rather creepy (men with shaved eyebrows?) but the best part of it was the taxi ride over. I was telling the taxi driver my plans, but that I may need to change them and told him what the men at the pub were saying (one of them did own and run the shop across the street that outifts walkers and prepares people for the WHW, so they weren't all completely clueless morons). He said, what? Are you going to let a bunch of drunks at a pub disway you from doing what you set out to do? And then went on to tell me about his son's experience walking the WHW and how he plans to do it someday himself. It was all very reassuring and kind. But it also made me think, yeah, since when did I start taking advice from drunks in pubs? Listen to your gut!
So, I set out the next day on the West Highland Way. It was to be 7 days of walking, from one little Scottish village to the next. This time I had some new socks, however, and found that old socks were most likely the reason for my horrible blisters in Ireland. This time the only blister problems occurred at the end of the walk and were the same old blisters from before that hadn't gone away yet. There was a great group of people from all over that were on the same schedule as I and at the end of the day there was always a pub where everyone gathered to eat a good meal and have a pint. The scenery was fantastic. The walking was great, challenging only in a few places, but very well laid out and maintained and not much road-walking at all, my main complaint of the Dingle Way. There was a point near Glencoe (more Chicago suburbs) that was comparable I'd say to some places in Glacier National Park, the mountains are majestic, dramatic, heavenly. They truly can take your breath away. To feel like just a speck in the whole of things is such an awesome feeling. The one thing I'd recommend, if anyone is considering this walk, is to not go in August. The midges (insects that are like flying fleas that leave bites that swell up and ooze and itch like crazy) were horrendous in some places, you have to use skin-so-soft and wear a face net--both of which I did not have on me when they first descended and thus have about thirty itchy bites on my legs and arms and cheeks (luckily the bites on my face have not itched or oozed). Anyway, the midges are to be taken seriously and this was the worst time to be around them. There were warnings on windows and doors to not let the midges in--they would travel around in swarms. And some walkers that were camping had the worst of it--they would go into their tents to find them lined with midges, a black film covering the entire interior. Another reason to not go in August is that this is vacation time for the entire continent and hostels were packed (snoring!!!) and sometimes it was hard to get a bed for a decent price. Again, a lot of people were having their bags taken from village to village for a small fee, which would've made things easier, but some of us trucked it along--including a 50+ Danish priest who'd walked the Camino to Santiago in Spain 4 times. Anyway, I greatly enjoyed my time in Scotland, I'd love to spend more time there, there is so much to see! And there are many more walks to do. But it was time to head to the bustling city of London to begin my next pet-sit.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Life in the Burren
So I suppose I've developed a bit of a routine, if you can call it that, this first week. I get up--have been getting up earlier and earlier now that I'm all recovered from my walk--have my oatmeal and tea and then tend to the animals (well, after I check my email).
First, to the shed. Out of the rodents, the guinea pig, Binny, seems to be the friendliest and most excited to see me (or get his food). He resides in a large plastic container that's perched above the rabbits' fenced in area and whenever I come in he comes up to the edge and looks as though he's going to leap out. He has a little wooden house to sleep in.
There's usually a rabbit sitting in the litter box below while the rest nestle together in a corner. I feed them, give them their fruit and veggies (apple, carrots, some cabbage leaves), make sure they have fresh hay, water, and scoop up their little rabbit pellets that did not make in the litter box. The rabbit sitting in the litter box does not move an inch while I do this. I put their leftover food in a bucket that gets mixed in with the chickens' food pellets and oatmeal, their droppings and all. It kind of amazes me that these animals will poop in their food and eat it. Anyway, I turn on the classical music radio station for them, leave the shed door open for fresh air and sunlight, and head to the chicken coop.
As soon as the chickens see me they start bawking (and it sounds like they're saying in very concerned voices, Ohhhh! Oh, myyyy!) and as I get inside their run I have to be careful not to step on their feet because they stand right in front of wherever it is I seem to be going. I give them their food and they begin gobbling it down like crazy. I check their water and then check the eggs. There has typically been 8 to 9 eggs in the morning. I collect the eggs that are then dated and stored for the woman to pick up next week. The chickens don't get let out until noon because some still have eggs to lay and if the door is open the lurking magpies might fly in and try to steal the eggs. Once I let them out they are everywhere. Yesterday I spent some time writing in the kitchen with the door open listening to the wife's Middle Eastern music on the GigaJuke (very handy contraption) and two chickens hung out on the steps, peering in at me, and pooping. This has been something that I've found rather disgusting and I'd like to look into permaculture theory to find out ways that this can be useful and contained rather than contaminating. I would also like to have my own chickens sometime but would not be able to tolerate the mess everywhere. Perhaps they can be trained to use a litter box.
So, like I said, I've been trying to develop a routine. I'm making an effort to get out and go for walks, although the weather has been less than inviting (rainy, cold, dreary). When I was walking the Dingle Way I didn't really feel like I had much of a choice to hang back because of the weather--I took a rest if my body needed it, otherwise I needed to keep moving if I was going to make it in time to my destination. Here it's a lot easier to want to stay inside with everything I need. I think this has been a concern to the neighbors down the road, an older couple with two sons in their 30s that live with them. On Tuesday, I was napping on the couch in the middle of the day after not getting enough sleep the night before. I opened my eyes and saw a man looking in the window. I immediately got up and went out to say hello but felt a little odd at the same time because I was wearing my yukata, a casual Japanese kimono that is very comfortable--people wear them all over the place in public in Japan, but here I'm guessing I looked like someone that stays in their bathrobe all day. The man asked me if everything was alright and if I needed to get into town and go to the shops, that they hadn't seen me outside and asked if I was scared being in the house alone. I said I was fine, just a little concerned about the busy road. I said perhaps I would go into town tomorrow. Everything was fine. He walked back home, which would be equal to a couple of blocks, using crutches, he'd just had hip surgery. I felt bad that I didn't invite him in for a cup of tea, which is the custom, but the awkward glances at my yukata caused me to feel a bit uncomfortable.
So the next day I was just doing my thing, took care of the animals, got out a lawn chair and sat in the sun (it was a beautiful sunny day, but the chickens were pecking at me and trying to get on the lawn chair), met the woman that came and picked up the eggs, and so forth. I decided I was in the mood for eggs and was going to eat a couple that were freshly laid for lunch. As I was getting my lunch ready, I saw a car waiting at the gate and honking. I looked out. Now, I've already been warned by the husband and wife to not talk to anyone that comes to the gate unless I'm expecting them, they told me they don't have any friends or people that come to see them (a bit of an exaggeration to get the point across of course). I've also been warned about travellers and tinkers, unsettled and displaced Irish that go from place to place and swindle you, take everything they can, even the tiles off your roof, drink a lot, get into bar fights, and their mode of speaking is shouting (I think I ran into one of them while I was walking a couple of summers ago--a very strange man that shouted at me asking for the time). But they kept honking, so I went down to see who it was. It was the man again and one of his sons, asking if I wanted to go into town to get groceries. I said thanks but I was just making lunch. Well, an hour later, I was reading outside, and saw the same car sitting by the gate. I went over and found that it was the same younger of the two sons. He asked if I wanted to go into town now and go to the shops. I found this to be very kind and comforting to know that these neighbors were looking after me, but at the same time wondered if this was going to be a daily occurence. So we went into town and I asked him about the busy road, if it is safe and all that. I keep getting assured that it is safe and plan to use it to get around. I picked up a couple of things at the store, he waited, got petrol, and took me back. It was nice to see people out and about.
Then later that night the woman of the family, while I was watching the news, again in my yukata, started knocking on the glass door. She'd been out walking the family dog and wanted to see if I was okay, if it was hard living out in the countryside, if the hens were getting on alright. Very sweet, very kind. But once again, there I was in my yukata, getting awkward looks--well, perhaps I'm just imagining the awkward looks. I'm sure they are stopping by to also see how everything is going at the house--she was eyeing the kitchen, perhaps to see if I was keeping it tidy. Before she left she invited me to their family lunch on Sunday.
Yesterday I had no visitors, but did get out for a walk in the Burren. The terrain was extremely worn down grey rocks divided up into these tiny canyons. You definitely have to watch your step or you could easily twist your ankle. The tricky part was not stepping into the crevices covered up by plants, grass or shrubs. I managed to spend a couple of hours wandering around pretty much unused Burren farmland, which was divided up by stone walls, until I ran into some cows that were grazing. I get rather nervous around large animals that are just free to trample me if they want and with absolutely no one else around I decided I needed to leave that section as quickly as possible and climbed over the nearest wall (very low wall).
Perhaps I'm going on and on in detail and boring you three readers out there. I guess this is what happens when you don't have anyone around to talk to except animals. I really haven't minded the solitude and don't feel that isolated. I guess knowing that it's only for 2 weeks makes it alright. If it was 2 years I probably have to change some things. Anyway, I've really been enjoying the experience and by not having constant distractions and comforts of city life has made me continue to simplify my perspective. I wouldn't mind some hot summer weather, however. It is rather dreary and cold today (thank you global warming) and I'm debating having a fire in the fireplace.
First, to the shed. Out of the rodents, the guinea pig, Binny, seems to be the friendliest and most excited to see me (or get his food). He resides in a large plastic container that's perched above the rabbits' fenced in area and whenever I come in he comes up to the edge and looks as though he's going to leap out. He has a little wooden house to sleep in.
There's usually a rabbit sitting in the litter box below while the rest nestle together in a corner. I feed them, give them their fruit and veggies (apple, carrots, some cabbage leaves), make sure they have fresh hay, water, and scoop up their little rabbit pellets that did not make in the litter box. The rabbit sitting in the litter box does not move an inch while I do this. I put their leftover food in a bucket that gets mixed in with the chickens' food pellets and oatmeal, their droppings and all. It kind of amazes me that these animals will poop in their food and eat it. Anyway, I turn on the classical music radio station for them, leave the shed door open for fresh air and sunlight, and head to the chicken coop.
As soon as the chickens see me they start bawking (and it sounds like they're saying in very concerned voices, Ohhhh! Oh, myyyy!) and as I get inside their run I have to be careful not to step on their feet because they stand right in front of wherever it is I seem to be going. I give them their food and they begin gobbling it down like crazy. I check their water and then check the eggs. There has typically been 8 to 9 eggs in the morning. I collect the eggs that are then dated and stored for the woman to pick up next week. The chickens don't get let out until noon because some still have eggs to lay and if the door is open the lurking magpies might fly in and try to steal the eggs. Once I let them out they are everywhere. Yesterday I spent some time writing in the kitchen with the door open listening to the wife's Middle Eastern music on the GigaJuke (very handy contraption) and two chickens hung out on the steps, peering in at me, and pooping. This has been something that I've found rather disgusting and I'd like to look into permaculture theory to find out ways that this can be useful and contained rather than contaminating. I would also like to have my own chickens sometime but would not be able to tolerate the mess everywhere. Perhaps they can be trained to use a litter box.
So, like I said, I've been trying to develop a routine. I'm making an effort to get out and go for walks, although the weather has been less than inviting (rainy, cold, dreary). When I was walking the Dingle Way I didn't really feel like I had much of a choice to hang back because of the weather--I took a rest if my body needed it, otherwise I needed to keep moving if I was going to make it in time to my destination. Here it's a lot easier to want to stay inside with everything I need. I think this has been a concern to the neighbors down the road, an older couple with two sons in their 30s that live with them. On Tuesday, I was napping on the couch in the middle of the day after not getting enough sleep the night before. I opened my eyes and saw a man looking in the window. I immediately got up and went out to say hello but felt a little odd at the same time because I was wearing my yukata, a casual Japanese kimono that is very comfortable--people wear them all over the place in public in Japan, but here I'm guessing I looked like someone that stays in their bathrobe all day. The man asked me if everything was alright and if I needed to get into town and go to the shops, that they hadn't seen me outside and asked if I was scared being in the house alone. I said I was fine, just a little concerned about the busy road. I said perhaps I would go into town tomorrow. Everything was fine. He walked back home, which would be equal to a couple of blocks, using crutches, he'd just had hip surgery. I felt bad that I didn't invite him in for a cup of tea, which is the custom, but the awkward glances at my yukata caused me to feel a bit uncomfortable.
So the next day I was just doing my thing, took care of the animals, got out a lawn chair and sat in the sun (it was a beautiful sunny day, but the chickens were pecking at me and trying to get on the lawn chair), met the woman that came and picked up the eggs, and so forth. I decided I was in the mood for eggs and was going to eat a couple that were freshly laid for lunch. As I was getting my lunch ready, I saw a car waiting at the gate and honking. I looked out. Now, I've already been warned by the husband and wife to not talk to anyone that comes to the gate unless I'm expecting them, they told me they don't have any friends or people that come to see them (a bit of an exaggeration to get the point across of course). I've also been warned about travellers and tinkers, unsettled and displaced Irish that go from place to place and swindle you, take everything they can, even the tiles off your roof, drink a lot, get into bar fights, and their mode of speaking is shouting (I think I ran into one of them while I was walking a couple of summers ago--a very strange man that shouted at me asking for the time). But they kept honking, so I went down to see who it was. It was the man again and one of his sons, asking if I wanted to go into town to get groceries. I said thanks but I was just making lunch. Well, an hour later, I was reading outside, and saw the same car sitting by the gate. I went over and found that it was the same younger of the two sons. He asked if I wanted to go into town now and go to the shops. I found this to be very kind and comforting to know that these neighbors were looking after me, but at the same time wondered if this was going to be a daily occurence. So we went into town and I asked him about the busy road, if it is safe and all that. I keep getting assured that it is safe and plan to use it to get around. I picked up a couple of things at the store, he waited, got petrol, and took me back. It was nice to see people out and about.
Then later that night the woman of the family, while I was watching the news, again in my yukata, started knocking on the glass door. She'd been out walking the family dog and wanted to see if I was okay, if it was hard living out in the countryside, if the hens were getting on alright. Very sweet, very kind. But once again, there I was in my yukata, getting awkward looks--well, perhaps I'm just imagining the awkward looks. I'm sure they are stopping by to also see how everything is going at the house--she was eyeing the kitchen, perhaps to see if I was keeping it tidy. Before she left she invited me to their family lunch on Sunday.
Yesterday I had no visitors, but did get out for a walk in the Burren. The terrain was extremely worn down grey rocks divided up into these tiny canyons. You definitely have to watch your step or you could easily twist your ankle. The tricky part was not stepping into the crevices covered up by plants, grass or shrubs. I managed to spend a couple of hours wandering around pretty much unused Burren farmland, which was divided up by stone walls, until I ran into some cows that were grazing. I get rather nervous around large animals that are just free to trample me if they want and with absolutely no one else around I decided I needed to leave that section as quickly as possible and climbed over the nearest wall (very low wall).
Perhaps I'm going on and on in detail and boring you three readers out there. I guess this is what happens when you don't have anyone around to talk to except animals. I really haven't minded the solitude and don't feel that isolated. I guess knowing that it's only for 2 weeks makes it alright. If it was 2 years I probably have to change some things. Anyway, I've really been enjoying the experience and by not having constant distractions and comforts of city life has made me continue to simplify my perspective. I wouldn't mind some hot summer weather, however. It is rather dreary and cold today (thank you global warming) and I'm debating having a fire in the fireplace.
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