Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: The Irish Death Plague

You know what sucks about being away from home for a month? The chances of you getting sick rises astronomically. While in London, I managed to avoid the plague that was going around at least until I got home. Sadly, in Ireland, around dinnertime as we ate at a fantastic little hostel run by a man who was whistling to Opera in the back (I half expected to see birds and sheep helping him cook by the way he was whistling) I succumbed to the Irish Death Plague.

Ok, that’s a little overdramatic. But you know what sucks MORE than having a really bad cold border lining on the flu as you go through Ireland? Having to travel to your next destination while looking like some semblance of “normal” long enough to get to your next destination. I’m fairly certain I snapped at one of the kids, Christian, while I was here. If I did, dude, sorry about that, but I barely remember the trip.

Firstly, the hostel, so this isn’t a completely depressing post, was run by a man named Joelle, and he is a wonderful cook. He cooked up a meal just for us, served buffet style (which probably isn’t so great with me being sick… more on that in a little bit) but his food was amazing. Also, when I say “hostel” it conjures up certain images that aren’t quite accurate. In fact, this place was really nice, it was overlooking the Ocean, and everything was almost gourmet level quality. 

And yes, he was whistling the entire time we were there as he served up our food. It was nothing short of something out of a movie. Seriously, as I describe it, I can feel some of you going (is he really in Ireland?) And yes. Yes, I am. You’ll have to take my word for it, because I don’t lie to you often, do I? (Oh, wait… yes, I do…)

Anyway, we ate their twice… Tuesday night was this fantastic mix of ham, apples in some kind of sauce, potatoes so great you’d think they were from Ireland… it was nothing short of amazing. Friday was this pasta and sauce that was so beautiful, I almost didn’t want to eat it because then it would be gone. But, sadly, I had my first little cough, that would lead to full blown plague status by the end of the day. 

When I got up on Saturday, the day of our travel, I’m fairly certain that my roommate wanted to kill me but saw I was already slowly dying. I could barely lift my own head, not to mention my bag. I managed to drag myself downstairs, and then, out to our bus. I was happy that we had a bit of a bus ride before the ferry, because I could rest my eyes for a few minutes.

Then, disaster struck. Well, not really disaster so much as “a major setback struck.” But A major setback doesn’t sound as interesting as “disaster.” You see, the winds around the Aran Islands are pretty much “Oh dear merciful Poseidon, please stop now.” Curse you, merciful Poseidon. Just… Curse you. The winds were so strong that we would not be able to take the tiny Ferry directly to Doolin, then a bus to our cabin, but we had to backtrack a few hours until we were able to take the ferry and bus BACK to Galway. 

Needless today, my plague infested body was not keen on this plan.

We had an hour wait in between the first bus and the second bus… which meant we had some of the finest sandwiches the bus stop in Galway had to offer. Or some of the others did. I managed to get down some popcorn, because it was the only thing that was just regular salt on it instead of onion or cheese, and “Irish Bus Stop Sandwich” sounds about as appealing as “Irish Bus Stop Sandwich.” 

We got our second bus to Doolin, a nice two hour drive I’m certain was very beautiful, because most of the landscape in Ireland is pretty beautiful. I’m going to assume, anyway. I slept through most of it. 

We did eventually make it to our digs in Doolin, which is actually pretty nice. It’s back to Apartment Style, with most of us in the same apartment, which should make for an interesting week and a half. 

And, of course most of yesterday was spent sleeping, still. Best part was when I overheard two people talking about me being on the couch, and I said, “sorry, I just wanted to shut my eyes for five minutes, guys…” and then one of them showed me his phone and said, “That would be ok, but it’s been two hours.” That kinda day.

As I’m feeling more human instead of an extra on the Walking Dead, I’m looking forward to exploring Doolin more today.

Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: Taxis, Ferries, and Busses, Oh, My.

Firstly, a programming note. As of this moment, I really haven’t posted that much in the past week. There’s a reason for that: we’ve been on the tiny island of Innis Mor and we have very little wifi. However, I still wrote several editions of Bad Shakespeare. I’m uploading them all today, and they’ll run this week. Enjoy!

Leaving Galway was an interesting event. Firstly, because we ended up taking a taxi to the bus, and the bus went right by where the taxi first picked us up. It seemed very redundant. But we said goodbye to that tiny coastal town and hello to our even tinier island town. I mean tiny. I mean there are more cows that people so far. And don’t believe what anyone tells you, these are mean looking cows. I would not want to mess with them.

But I should back up a little bit. We took our coach (or as we saw in America, bus) down the Irish Coast. It was beautiful. I don’t mean run of the mill beauty like a sunset or kittens playing in a basket, but real beauty. Awesome beauty. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before in my life. I couldn’t believe it. The bus zigged and zagged down the road and we were treated to all the colors of green that I never thought I’d actually see. It was amazing. 

Then, we got to our Ferry and unloaded our bags for the second of many times this day. This was probably why they told us to pack light and no one listened because hey, we’d just have to put our bags on a plane twice, right? At this point I’m beginning to think I should shun all my material possessions and live as a hermit with nothing. At least for this trip. then I want a lot of stuff again. 

Anyway, we were greeted by a con artist dog who apparently lives around they ferry and acts cute for food. I could tell he was a con artist because he had shifty eyes. Or at least they appeared to be pretty shifty. I knew he was up to something from the first moment I saw him. After he hit us up for some snacks we all shuffled onto the roller coaster ferry. 

You could say the seas were a bit rough. That’d be like saying the Kardashians sort of enjoy being in the spotlight. I swear, at one moment  we were traveling almost vertically. It was kind of nice, actually, a bit of a change from all those times I’ve been on a boat and felt like I didn’t anger Neptune. Actually it was a little bit nice, the scenery was amazing. 

After we all praised the god of the land, whoever that is because he doesn’t have as good representation as Neptune, we unloaded our bags (again) and then loaded them (again) in the last leg of our journey: The tiny town of Innis Mor. We’re currently (or we stayed by the time I’ve uploaded this) staying in the Kulmurvey House, which is near an old church and as I mentioned once before: some cows. Yep. There was a cat roaming around at one point, but he didn’t want to be my friend.

That’s were our adventures are leaving us for right now. I’m interested to see what this week will bring. 

Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: Happy Fish and Chips Day!

The thing I have loved about these overseas trips (or across the pond as no one says over here but they said a lot in England) is the way we get to interact with the city a little bit more. When you come on vacation there’s an urgency to your trip: hit up this area, check out that area, check out that area. Make sure you do it quickly because we have to rush. But with these trips, we get to enjoy ourselves a little bit more. Take our time, and savor the fact that we are in Ireland, immersing ourselves in the local culture.

For instance, yesterday was Fish and Chips Day, which definitely wasn’t an advertising ploy to get us all out to buy Fish and Chips. Or maybe it was. I’m still not really sure. What I am sure of is that we found this tiny little Fish and Chips place right in Salthill.. (Called, interestingly enough “Salthill Fish and Chips.” Hey, I get it now.) The Ireland Creative Writing Workshop, being the intrepid explorers that we are, decided that National Fish and Chips day was to get Fish and Chips. If you are unaware what Fish and Chips are, then I’m sorry for you, and you’ve had a sad life up until now.

Problem number one: the shop that held said Fish and Chips was a wee bit small.  By “Small” I mean, “they probably didn’t expect 12 Americans to come piling into their shop at 7 O’Clock at Night.” Which is odd, because that’s the earliest we’ve eaten since we got here, and that’s still pretty early.

Oh, that’s the other part I should probably mention. You see, we don’t just have to fly East to get to Ireland, we also have to fly North. So, you know how you see all of those things in America about how Alaska gets dark for about 20 hours a day in the winter but is sunny until 2 a.m. in the Summer? It’s sunny until about 10:30 p.m. here, which is nice but really starting to throw off our sleep patterns and our eating patterns. We typically eat at dusk, which is about 9:30 here. Which is great because it means vampires can’t attack like in that one movie, but is starting to affect us a little bit. I hear the hallucinations go away after a few weeks. The Ghost of James Joyce Told Me so.

The first thing that happened after we wandered into this Fish and Chips shack… well, second after the clerk behind the counter said a silent prayer that I don’t think we were supposed to hear, was the stark realization that we did not have enough chairs inside to accommodate 12 people. Being industrious, we noted that there was a table and several chairs OUTSIDE the tiny little Fish and Chips shack, and it wouldn’t take much effort to make those items be INSIDE the tiny Fish and Chips Shack. Did I mention it was tiny? So, we all squeezed into this place, because it was way too cold outside to enjoy Fish and Chips. 

Then, we ordered. I don’t know that they’ve gotten that many orders that late in the day, and in a row, too. (But shout to the way the handled it, especially as they just took into consideration the various Fish and Chips combinations. For those of you interested, I had the fried Cod.) And it was pretty good Fish and Chips, too, with the fish being fried and the chips being fried… actually, it’s pretty difficult to mess up Fish and Chips, unless you’re an American Pub pretending to be a place that serves fish and chips, and you don’t serve them with the big, delicious fries and frying all of the healthy bits out of it. If you don’t see a bright light and hear a voice beckoning you when you’re done, then you didn’t REALLY eat Fish and Chips. 

And they were GOOD. Filled with oily goodness. 

Eventually, we did leave, after a brief struggle with keeping the door cold (we experienced our one day of summer the previous day) and the looks of people that I’m sure were just running into the Fish and Chips place for just a quick snack and wondered when it had been overrun by Americans. 

       Of Course we never did find out if it was a real holiday or not...

Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: Writing in Galway

So far, we’ve experienced all the many different weather patterns that Ireland has to offer. From gray and rainy to sunny and all the way back to rainy again. It’s like a cycle that keeps repeating. yesterday was nothing short of incredible, particularly with how warm it got… people were actually laying out in the sun! I didn’t think they did that in Ireland so much as it was a joke that we all are supposed to just hang out in bars. 

The writing program is interesting. It’s definitely not what I expected. I mean that in the best possible way, mind, you we’re busy learning different ways to access our writing, and figure out which characters we’re writing for. It’s certainly unlocked something more in me as a writer. I’m starting to figure out more about what I’m trying to say. It’s more like when I was younger, and I used to write all the time. It’s made me a lot braver.

For instance, one of the characters in my book is a man trapped in the body of a cat who works in middle management. Well, the cat works in middle management now that he has the brain of a cat. Before, I don’t know I would have been brave enough to lead off with that character, particularly because he is such a unique character, and one of my wackier inventions. But for some reason, I felt very comfortable talking about him, naming him, and putting him on paper and announcing it to the class. I like that idea. 

We are also accessing our ideas more through different kinds of art, like drawing. When was the last time you just sat down and drew? And you’re not an artist (like my mother.) A lot is taking me back a little bit. I guess the whole thing is like that one quote I like “To be successful you must be as serious as a child at play.” Writing is a lot like play acting, you get to play pretend and create new worlds. Pretend you’re a scientist or a knight fighting evil demons or something like that. 

Other than that right now, Ireland is Ireland. It’s amazingly beautiful. As I’v said before, we’re right by the beach, so I’ve been taking full advantage of heading down there when I can to sit and write. Galway is pretty amazing, full of cute little shops that are just too much fun to walk through. 

It’s been an experience, and it’s only been three days. Looking forward to a lot more.

Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: Reflections of Galway

When I left for this trip, I was very aware that it was going to be different than my time in London. Firstly, my time in London was a very specific time and place… nothing could duplicate it. Secondly, the programs are different. Theatre is reflective, but is very much a focus on a visual narrative, and how we react to it. And it’s very clear I won’t have that guide while in Ireland, I’m going to have to find that for myself.

The place we are located is near Galway Bay, so there’s a tiny beach near our apartment. And yes, we have a whole apartment this time, which is nicer than the shoebox in London. Of course, that’s very much because this is Ireland and that was London, and while nice London is on those list of cities where it would probably be better if you paid in gold bars instead of actual cash. So, we have this nicish apartment where any of the appliances might fail at literally any minute, and none of us are still sure how to use the washing machine. But it’s there if we want it!

Galway is a nice city. It’s small, while at the same time feeling huge. Part of that may be because I haven’t quite gotten my bearings just yet, which means just one wrong turn and I don’t really know where I’m going. But that’s part of any travel experience, even the smallest cities seem huge until you are ready and adjusted. Then even someplace like London feels like home. This place is already settling in to be like home. There’s a bar that I’ve found that I really enjoy. We have a grocery store where we’ve stocked up in those products that we need, and then those that are sorta like what we have in America but aren’t quite. (Frosties, anyone? They’re GRRRRRRRRREEEEEAAATT!)

And the people here are amazing. I’ve been here three days, and all three days I’ve managed to strike up a conversation with random strangers that are quick to tell us where to go, what to do, and what we should be seeing. It’s incredible. It’s an amazing feeling. Especially in a place like this that’s not really near a big airport and only accessibly by two hours by car or bus from the major airports, it would be really easy to have a tougher time meeting people. But even yesterday when I got turned around, someone was quick to ask me if I knew where I was going and point me in the right direction. The bar I went to; the owner made me feel like a regular after only a few minutes. 

I’ve always associated Ireland with a type of magic. Maybe its just the fact that it’s an Island, or the fact that I was’t really sure I’d ever get to come here. At least not on a trip like this, where it’s not “run around and see everything.” That’s what I like about this particular trip that’s focusing on my writing, it’s allowing me to be more reflective, it’s allowing me to be able to sit back for a few minutes and think about things a little bit more. It’s a nice feeling.

Overall, so far, I love it here. There’s a feeling to the air that’s a little bit different. It’s hard to describe. It’s just something that I feel as I walk around, or that I even look outside. 

I’m really interested in seeing what else this trip has to bring. Right now we’re only starting.

Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: Getting There was Half the Fun This time

So, i made it to Galway. Fortunately with 100% less problems than the trip to Ireland in general, but then, I wasn’t flying. I just had to take a bus. Then a taxi. Then I had to walk a little bit. 

I’m sure Shannon is a very nice area, but I really only managed to see “the Airport” and, “the hotel right next to the airport.” After being in the air for close to 24 hours (and not getting a nice, hot shower, food, or sleep) I really just wanted one thing. Well, three things, involving a shower, food, and sleep. Fortunately, the hotel could provide all three, so I went and did that. I did hit a pub because this is Ireland and it’s really easy to hit up a pub, just walk a few feet, and fortunately, the hotel had a pub right in it.

Then, I was off to Galway, where the first leg of my writing journey will take place. I started by catching the bus. I’ve taken bus trips before, so I was fully prepared to hop on board and take one, but I wasn’t prepared for something that affected me in England. The sheer terror the first time you get into a moving vehicle and realize that it is going on the other side of the road. Yes, that takes a little getting used to. 

The bus trip was nice, I got to see little parts of Ireland that I’m sure I wouldn’t see by just sticking to a hotel in Dublin. There are signs everywhere… literally everywhere… still urging people to vote for Marriage Equality in the country. There were a few half hearted signs that urged against it, but the majority (like the vote itself) was very pro-Marriage Equality. I even saw one sign right in front of a church so that was nice. But there were a lot of sheep on the trip there. Enough that I fell asleep briefly while trying to keep track.

As for getting here… did you know that there were TWO places called The Grattan House? I do now. I hung out in front of the wrong one for a little while. Not too long, mind you, because everyone here is super helpful. Like, really helpful. I’m on a first name basis with not only the cab driver, but the bartender of the pub I found. (He was the nicest. He let me sample some beer before I got a full pint.)

The place we’re staying in Galway is nice… it’s almost like an apartment. It’s a huge suite with several rooms off a main room. Of course there’s a  main room. Its a big change from London, which was nice but the room was pretty much a place to be when I wasn’t touring London or getting food. Which was just as important. But this place feels homier. I hope I don't spend too much time being "at home" and I spend time exploring. It's hard to gauge that today, because everyone is exhausted and looking forward to getting to rest.

Good adventuring so far. I’m looking forward to seeing what else this place has to offer. 

By the way, Loyal Bad Shakespearers, the wifi is spotty to non-existent at best. I’ll post as I can. 

Bad Shakespeare Takes Ireland: Delta Delta Delta Can I Helpya Helpya Helpya?

I realize I don’t know much about the insider business of “running a major airline.” I know a lot, mostly from being not really great at one thing but just a little decent at a lot of things, but running an airline is not something I understand. I phrase it this way because I think it’s important before you really criticize anyone; you need to understand that you are going to have certain limitations. In my case, I’m not 100% certain how to run an airline.

Pretty sure I can do better than Delta, though…

My journey started back when I first got to the airport, three hours early because somewhere someone threw out the arbitrary number “3” when deciding what to do with international flights. I’m also aware that it’s Memorial Day Weekend, which means the airport can go from “full” to “oh God why is everyone in America currently trying to fit into this one Cinnabon?” Also I was taking the D.C. Metro, which means it could take anywhere from 20 minutes to two hours to get to my location since the D.C. Metro has the reliability of… well there’s no comparison. The D.C. Metro.

I stepped up to the counter confidently because this is not my first international flight this year, and… they promptly were unable to fight my flight information. As in, the flight vaguely existed, and I was supposed to be on it… somewhere. But they couldn’t confirm little things for me like a “seat” or “which gate the flight was leaving from.” No big deal, DCA isn’t as big an airport as some, it was just going to be a matter of waiting a few minutes. 

Those minutes turned out to be… one. Fortunately, in the time it took me to “check in” and “Drop off my bag” (Because those two things can’t be done together to save time); I at least had a gate. So, I was off on my journey through the airport towards my gate, thankful I could just walk to the location.

Making my way to the gate, I calmly walked over to the helplessness help desk, which was staffed by one person. That number is important later. And…. they couldn’t give me a seat. Nor could they even confirm that I was on the connecting flight TO Ireland. Essentially, they could do nothing until the magic one hour before, because computers work that way. At this point it should be noted that It was about two hours early and I heard the fateful words that would mark my night “Flight to New York Delayed.” Not my flight… yet.

Soon my flight WAS to be delayed because there was some kind of problem. Naturally, because computers don’t work until an hour beforehand, instead of it just being one person, me, checking in with the one person behind the counter, there was now a line including a woman who was hysterical screaming in another language to anyone who would listen.

Fortunately, the people at Delta Airlines opened another desk and proceeded to help everyone through. 

No, I’m kidding. They kept the line nice and long, moving as slowly as possible, with one woman walking up and down the line every so often, noting how stupid everyone was for standing in line because “there are help courtesy phones right over there” but not actually opening another register or doing anything to alleviate the line.

I’m going to skip past being told to go in three different lines - to get my seat, mind you - and move onto getting into the air and landing in JFK, without any sort of confirmation about my connecting flight, just that there will be something on one of the boards. Maybe. 

So, I eventually find what I’m guessing was my flight to Shannon, Ireland. I got up there, this is an hour and a half early, mind you… to find no one from Delta able to help me. Eventually after about fifteen minutes some “helpful” person told me in no uncertain terms that the service desk at the gate was closed, and it wasn’t going to be open until I went away. So I did. When it did open, literally two minutes later, I was told to just be assured that I had a seat, not to worry despite all evidence to the contrary.

Boy, I shouldn’t have worried. Because I had a seat. It was Mary’s seat. (Not her real name.) That’s right, because they needed to keep my seat a secret until the last possible minute, when I was actually boarding the plane, I found that I HAD BEEN DOUBLE BOOKED INTO THE SAME SEAT AS SOMEONE ELSE. And not just me, either. The plane itself hadn’t been overbooked, but because they were so reluctant to actually assign seats “before people boarded” about 40% of the flight was complaining to the flight attendants that there was someone in their seat. 

Seriously. 

(There is a happy ending as at least only one woman refused to take her newly assigned seat, away from her boyfriend like she booked it, and no one was allowed to switch seats to be by their loved ones as assigned.)

I start with this simply because it was kind of a frustrating experience. I’ve had a good first day in Shannon so far, to be honest with you, not really “doing” anything but just sort of walking around and totally not doing the reading I was supposed to have done before I landed. Actually I’ve found that everything else has gone nice and smoothly, so here’s hoping that was just the first hiccup.