Snuggled in a snug

Last Thursday MB and I headed to Clarke's pub, rumoured to serve the best pint of Guinness in County Louth.  While I can't claim to be a Guinness expert, I think they pour a mighty fine pint.  We got drinks and headed to one of the pub's many snugs.  We'd seen snugs in Canada, but didn't realize what they were until coming to Ireland.  Snugs were designed to offer privacy within a pub and were used by wealthy patrons (drinks were more expensive in the snug) or people who did not want to be seen (i.e. priests, police officers, women). Today snugs simply provide a cozy atmosphere for enjoying your beverage.  

In our case the snug provided a perfect setting to write our Christmas cards.  MB is a perpetual planner and is always thinking 10 steps ahead.  In true MB fashion she wanted to send our cards extra early so they'd have lots of time to cross the Atlantic.  In true Scott fashion, I'll do anything at anytime if there is a pint involved.   With liquid inspiration in one hand and pen in the other, we got down to business.

Who knew writing Christmas cards needed this much motivation? 

Christmas Jumper or Cracking Good Christmas, which is your favourite?

MB doing the heavy lifting

Me doing the dirty work

Raking in rashers, having some happiness

Four months and one week after arriving in Ireland, I've found a job. Last week I started work at Esquires Coffee House, in the centre of Drogheda. Because in Ireland they call bacon "rashers', Scott and I joke that I am "raking in the rashers".

Inside Esquires, the site of a former bank.

It's definitely unlike a desk job and after working 35 hours last week, my shoulders ache from carrying trays and my fingertips have perma-prune from washing dishes. I have to admit, in my weaker moments, hunched over a pile of dirty dishes with wet feet and a stained apron, I ask myself: Why am I doing this? Why did I leave a good-paying, professional job to work for minimum wage in a country I've never been to before? Why did I sell a decent house in a decent part of Halifax to rent a room in a boarding house with five construction workers from Donegal?

Because, happiness is not only about good, professional and decent. It's also about new, exciting and different. So, as I walk home through the brisk fall air, over the dark Boyne River elegantly making its way to the Irish Sea, past the pubs pumping laughter into the streets and up the steps into our shared house, I realize that I am happy.

Posing happily in my uniform before a shift.

Crunchy leaves and crunch time!

When we returned to Drogheda last week, autumn had descended. And with crisp breezes and colourful leaves comes crunch time. It's that back-to-school feeling every adult gets when its time to leave the leisures of summer and start a new fall program (dad, you know what I mean!) to propel yourself into productivity.

Scott and I have a new abode to help our fresh fall start. On October 14, we moved into the residence formerly known as "The Spoon and Stars". Its a hostel-turned-rooming house that is surprisingly cozy. The Drogheda rental market is very competitive and, although the building is up for sale and we may be evicted once again, this is definitely the best place for us right now. After travelling for four weeks, its nice just to have a room of our own.

This year our fall program means looking for jobs. I am applying at call centres where my "American" accent is my secret weapon! Of course since Scott hates the phone and forces me to make all our routine calls, a call centre is out for him. I keep telling him that the sports betting parlours, which are all over Ireland, would be an ideal work environment for anyone going through fantasy football withdrawal, but he won't be tempted. We are both applying to cafes, pubs and shops - something definitely different from the office jobs we had in Canada. We're hoping that the Christmas rush will catapult us into employment quickly and after we woo employers with our Canadian politeness and efficiency they'll keep us on.

Making ourselves at home in our shared kitchen by making an apple crisp with Irish Bramley apples.

A nice week in Nice (France)...

So it's probably the most corny and overused joke in travel writing, but we just couldn't resist because Nice is, well, nice. With its urban beaches, famous fountains, quick railway access to Monaco, Cannes, and the rest of the Riviera, Nice is the perfect place to spend a week, or for that matter the rest of your life. We used it as a weeklong reprieve between the gruelling sites of Berlin and the reality of job searching that faces us back in Ireland.

View from our balcony in Nice. Love how the clouds are framing the moon. 

View of Nice atop Castle Hill. Nothing beats having access to the beach from the centre of town. 

Does it look like we are enjoying ourselves?

Nice at night, the Promenade du Paillon. Besides the glow in the dark yogis, there's a beautiful fountain show too. 

Just a couple of yachts docked in Monaco. 

Changing of the guard at the Prince's Palace in Monaco. 

Sculpture in Cannes in honour of their famous film festival.  MB and I couldn't resist seeing a movie in Cannes and went to see Gone Girl.

Watching the sunset in Cannes. 

Berlin: history shapes it, but doesn't define it

Instead of hotels, we've been staying with locals in rooms through Airbnb. It's a great way to save money and experience a city like its residents do. We had a super apartment in Berlin Mitte, which we understood to be the city centre. What we didn't understand before we arrived was that Berlin covers 891 square km, making it more than eight times the size of Paris. So, although we were technically in the centre of things, we still did a lot of walking.

Berlin is a goldmine for any twentieth century history buff. Even for us (decidedly NOT history buffs), the sites of Berlin were charged with emotion. Reminders of WWII and the Berlin Wall mark the city at every corner. Yet, the city seems determined not to let the past define it: construction and cranes have as much a presence in the sprawling capital as do memorials and museums.

We found our time in Berlin short as we were anxious to see and learn as much as we could. History in Berlin is a different experience; because of the atrocities of WWII, history here is framed by shame instead of pride. If there are two kinds of travel, learning and vacation, Berlin is definitely the former. Although learning Berlin history is important and necessary we couldn't help but selfishly look forward to the vacation awaiting us in the south of France when we left Berlin. 

Reichstag (Germany's Parliment) Building - burnt down in 1933 and was rebuilt to include a glass dome at the top. From the parliamentary floor the politicians can look up and see the public in the dome as a reminder of who they serve. 

The dome up close

Mirrored wall inside the dome that reflects natural light into the building

MB enjoying the view from the top of the Reichstag

We visited a concentration camp north of the city. These words are on the front gate and would be read by captives as they enter. It translates to: "work sets you free". This was the first of many disturbing images we saw here. 

This was the walk signal used only in East Berlin. Since the wall came down he has been adopted on the west side too. He's a popular fellow in Berlin and even has his own souvenir shops.  I love his hat!

The Berlin Wall East Side Gallery is a 1.3km-long section of the wall near the center of Berlin. Approximately 106 paintings by artists from all over the world cover this memorial for freedom and make it the largest open air gallery in the world.  Below are a few of our favourite sections. 

Cyclists, canals and contentment: Amsterdam and Amsterdammers

We arrived in Amsterdam on September 24, anxious to check out the many things that this Dutch metropolis is known for: bikes, waterways, red lights and "coffeeshops" (hint: what they sell is a little stronger than caffeine). 

My mom tried to prepare us for the onslaught of bikes we would meet in Amsterdam, nothing could ready us for the 600,000 bikes that take to the streets of Amsterdam each day. Or more aptly, take to the protected bike lanes that dictate the city's traffic. One of the first things we did was take a three hour bike tour, and both Scott and I were in awe over the ease in which we flew through Amsterdam's flat, canal-lined streets. Scott (aka Captain Safety) was aghast to see mini cars and scooters sharing the bike lanes. We were both amazed at the infrastructure that supports cyclists. Here, the almighty car is not so mighty. My kind of city.

In a city where both marajuana and prostitution are legal, we expected the people to be a little more fun loving and a little less reserved. But, we were hard pressed to find a Dutch person displaying any emotion, whether it be laughing, shouting, crying, or even smiling. Everyone seemed content, yet no one seemed overjoyed. The weather was a perfect pathetic fallacy; it barely rained and the sun rarely shone. Instead, a banal overcast sky hung over the city, keeping the inhabitants in a perpetual state of grey. Scott was tempted several times to pinch someone and see if they really were human, but he resisted. (Funny, it was only the cute girls he considered pinching!)

Luckily the Dutch are tall, we had no problem finding a bike to fit Scott. 

A multi-story parking structure just for bikes!

A super mini car on the bike path. 

The weary cyclists after a long day. 

House boats line one of the many canals

The houses are so narrow that large items have to be moved in through the windows. We were lucky to see it in action. 

Here is the most narrow house in Amsterdam, less than 2m wide. 

This building is sinking, a big problem due to the soft ground the city rests on. 

One of our highlights was visiting the ultra modern public library. Here's a view of the city from the rooftop cafe. 

7 days, 6 people,1 van and countless biscuits & cups of tea!

Last week we welcomed all four of our parents to Ireland. The trip started out in Drogheda, where we got to play tour guide and showed our parents not only our apartment, but also the local sights. From there we spent most of the week touring the rest of Ireland.  Scott and I had an amazing week with our parents and from all the laughs and remarks of the beautiful Irish countryside we think it's safe to say they did too. 

 A piece from an art show we visited in Drogheda. Can you believe this is a pencil drawing?

Scott and his dad at "Castle Blunden" in Kilkenny.

Scott photographs the rest of us at The Cliffs of Moher.

The Burren, photographed from the car that my dad expertly maneovered around the narrow Irish roads.

A beautiful Irish wool scarf my mom bought me.

Hurling is to Ireland as Hockey is to Canada

This past Sunday the All Ireland Hurling final took place at Croke Park in Dublin in front of a crowd 80,000 plus.  With all the buzz we heard about the sport, we decided to go to one of our local pubs to see what all the fuss was about.  After about 2 minutes of watching I was completely captivated.  

It didn’t take too long to catch onto the game as the basic principles are straight forward - two teams, one ball, players bat the ball with sticks to try and score points and goals.  Even with this being the case, I have never really seen anything quite like Hurling.  The pace of play is  ridiculously fast and combines the skills of so many other sports.  Here’s a good intro video so you can see for yourself: Hurling Video.   

The game on Sunday ended in a draw.  They deal with draws differently in Ireland.  No extra time or shootouts take place.  Instead everyone shakes hands and goes home, with a replay match to be played in a few weeks.  You have to admire the Irish, extending the craic whenever they can! 

Loving Limbo

Since discovering the news that we no longer live at 77A Chord Road, things have been in limbo. After Scott’s late night research uncovered hidden fees and administrative hurdles, we decided to abandon the idea of getting a Eurail passes. Flying with Ryanair and EasyJet is just as cheap. We are no longer on Plan B, more like Plan N. We’ve had more sample itineraries than we can count. So, despite copious Hipmunk searching, the only thing we’ve decided is to wait a little longer before we decide anything. It’s odd not knowing where we will be after September 20, especially for serial planners like Scott and I.

Our feeling of limbo went from metaphorical to actual when we hiked to the ocean on Sunday. A seemingly straightforward walk along the River Boyne morphed into a 15km turn about the Irish countryside. We did end up making it to the ocean, where a lovely, serene wildfowl park was the perfect setting for our picnic. CORNY ALERT!!! : We can’t help but see this journey as representative of where we are in our longer journey. Things will eventually get sorted, but for now we are simply enjoying being lost in the Irish countryside. 

Connor and Cliona, the couple with whom we recently wwoofed, have been helping us both enjoy the present and look forward to the future. Last Wednesday we had a delightfully drunken evening at their place. After dinner we stumbled to their nifty tree house to spend the night.

after a long walk we finally found the ocean

those are sheep, not boulders as Scott originally thought
until they started to move

the "new bridge" and I don't mean the McKay

Scott showing off his guns at the Battle of the Boyne

inside the tree house, or as we like to call it the tree mansion