Game Day

The gang is headed to a Gaelic football match tonight, and from the sounds of it Gaelic football is the greatest sport ever. It's like soccer except that you can use your hands to catch the ball, but you cannot carry it without dribbling it on your foot. You can either score a goal (3 points), or volley it through the uprights above the goal, a la a field goal (1 point). 

Today's game is Dublin versus Tyrone. I'm torn who to root for, since Tyrone is home of the Lambs but apparently their team is the Yankees of Gaelic football and are the heavy favorites. Lord knows I love a good underdog. So we shall see. 

I saw an updated version of The Playboy of the Western World at the Abbey Theatre on Tuesday. The dialogue was changed to more present-day Dublin (read: lots of "fecks"), and Christy Mahon is now a Nigerian man. You know, minor tweaks. Anyway, it was really fun. 

I also went to the Yeats exhibit this week at the National Library, which was really a highlight. The exhibit had first drafts of poems, plays, report cards (he was top ten in his class in classics, bottom ten in maths; I can relate to the latter part). They also had some great documentary videos set up about the Abbey and Yeats' lovers, among others. Apparently he proposed to actress Maude Gonne five times before giving up and proposing to her daughter, who also rejected him (sound familiar, Mike Plantan?). 

I got a coke in the cafeteria; even coke is better here. That's it on the coke front. 

I got a job working the desk for our program weeknights and the occasional weekend afternoons. I'm actually getting paid right now while writing you guys. It's jerks like me that aren't doing the economy any favors. 

I had previously mentioned that my roommate was shooting a music video. What I failed to mention was that it's adorable. Here's a link to it. 

Also, I think some major kudos is appropriate to my sister, who shook off mononucleosis to perform in the one-act play "Sonnet", and help garner a unanimous top ranking from the judges and move on to the next round of competition. Proud of you, P. You kick butt. Judges saw her choice to fall asleep onstage as "brave and inspiring, if also confusing". I think maybe only one or two legendary performances can even compare, in my opinion. Way to go, P! 

Had to take a two-day hiatus from cornflakes, but now I'm back on the saddle with an excruciating two bowls this morning. If I wasn't so proud, and didn't find this culinary monotony unjustifiably amusing, I would have thrown in the towel long ago. However, if I'm ever feeling faint of heart, I just think of a valuable lesson that my dad taught me during our family road trip to the Grand Canyon (who thought that was a good idea, by the way??): 

Not one known to pull over for much, Ol' Brian had been making some abrupt pit stops this particular day due to some... er... troubles. This lasted the whole day. Soon dinner time rolled around, and Mr. Lamb pulled into the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant. We went berserk: "Are you crazy!? What are you thinking? Do you not remember this morning?". Dad turned around to the back seat with a slightly agitated squint and said words that I will remember for the rest of my life:

"Well, you can't just give up."

And with that, he got out of the car, proceeded into the restaurant, and ordered an enchilada. Only one or two speeches can even compare, in my opinion. Okay, three. I hope you all take that very valuable lesson with you today. 

Keep the emails coming. You all rock.

D

PS -- To encourage comments (because why not? we're all in this together), I'm going to start ending my posts with a question that we can all respond to. I've always been a fan of Top 5's, so we'll do one of those as well:

Question (going along with the parable about my Pops) : 

• What is the best advice that you were ever given, and in what context?

Top Five of the Week:

• Movies with your favorite actor in them

Here's Mine:

1. Dick Tracy
2. Dog Day Afternoon
3. The Godfather Part II
4. The Godfather
5. Serpico

• Honorable Mention: Gigli
  

Now your turn! 

Howth and Oliver St John Gogarty's

Went hiking yesterday, and listened to some great Irish music the night before. Here are a few updated photos -- I have to pick and choose because I can only upload 100mb a month. But at least it's a taste. 

Five Random Things, As They Come To Me:

1. I was likened to Michael Flatley by a bona fide Irishman. I'm not going to tell you that it was at my expense. The very fact that it happened, in any context, proves my suspicions to be correct. At Oliver St. John Gogarty's pub, I got a little too into the music, and a couple of us began step-dancing, tipsy American style. At the end of the song, the guitarist said "I think it's great that people are dancing... when a woman dances, even if she's flailing her legs, she just looks so graceful... but when a fella dances, god save us all." Taking this as an incredible complement (I mean heck, he was calling for divine intervention because of how sacramental my moves must have been to behold), I continued showing off my moves, until our troupe began to be referred to as "Riverdance". I'm thinking of opening my own dance school here: what can I say? You've either got it or you don't. 
2. I'm having really great, weird dreams. My favorite one of the week was that I showered in gravy before going to a coffee shop to get dumped by my dream woman, and then went back and took a bath in gravy. Tear-filled gravy. I swear I'm not doing drugs. Needless to say, I am a little paranoid when I turn on the faucet in the morning.  
3. I want a pet sea lion. See above. On a related topic, apparently there's a "horse trade" fair of some sort the first Sunday of every month, and they sell horses for 50 euro. I may have to make a compromise; I think we have enough room in our apartment. 
4. Howth is pronounced "Hoath". Even the "h" gets too much credit in that phonetic spelling. Maybe "Hote"? I dunno. Either way, it's beautiful. 
5. Coffee is great here. But it's like twice the cost of tea, so I've turned a new leaf. But really, it's a treat. 

I'm helping my roommate Jake with his music video today; apparently he can only use inanimate objects, so it should be an interesting, if lengthy, process making these stick puppets he's made come to life. It'll be awhile, but if he posts it I'll be sure to get the link. 

Hope everyone's keeping warm. Weather's been pretty consistent here between 40s-50s, a little cool, sometimes rainy... okay so it's not quite consistent. But it keeps things interesting. 

Thank you for the emails; I've read and loving reading them all. Any other recommendations for dining or day-trips I would love to hear. 

D

Week 1: Pictures and Things

Here's a link to the Flickr page that I'm trying to set up, so I can share a few more photos with everybody. There doesn't seem to be any great way to do this, but I'll keep working on it. 

My classes are great craic and the other people in my program are very fun, energetic folks. It's a nice diverse group to be exploring, studying, and pub-hopping with. 

Five Random Samplings From The Week, As They Come To Me:

1. I am eating way too many corn flakes. Dublin is many things, but cheap is not one of them. In an attempt to be able to try several new places without going broke in the first week, I decided to eliminate paying for breakfast by buying the largest box of generic-brand cornflakes I have ever seen, on sale for less than two euro. I have them with yogurt to make them taste differently from day to day. I'll keep you posted as to when I finally get sick of them.
2. I cannot wait to have children and use them as collateral. A man -- let's face it, a crazy man -- had parked a child's stroller (with one of his children in it)  in front of a double-decker bus, in the middle of fairly heavy traffic, in order to get the bus driver to listen to him. He would bang on the window opposite the driver and, in between cuss-filled rantings, shout out his catch-phrase, "OPEN THE DOOOOOOR! OPEN THE DOOOOOOR!" in his thick Irish brogue. Now, I'm no specialist in human relations, but I feel that this was a battle that not only could never be won, but could be lost terribly in several ways. Personally, I just loved watching it, though; the horrific exploitation of his child (only one of them, he was holding the other one) was completely transcended by how entertaining I found him. I mean, that's the peak of dramatic tension. I think it would make a great play. We left before I got to see who won the battle of wills; they might still be there now, for all I know. But now every time we come close to a double-decker, we shout at them in his honor.
3. My friend Olga was willing to pay for syphilis. Okay, so I'm really making that sound worse than it was -- but oh, how I love giving Olga a hard time. We went to a place that was recommended to us called Dice Bar on the north side of the Liffey. It was great: a total hole-in-the-wall playing 1960s folk rock and red lights giving a hellish quality to the jet-black walls and ceiling. Two locals were sitting at the bar, and the reoccurring bit was that one of them had to go out to catch a train, and every time he'd work himself up to leave, a train would whizz by, so he would sit down and have another pint. Anyway -- one of the taps was written on a napkin and read "syphilis". Olga thought that must make for an interesting beer, and had an excruciatingly awkward time attempting to order syphilis from this bartender. Because she knew nothing about the beer, she just kept repeating the word "syphilis" and holding out her money to him. Apparently, that napkin was only on one side of the tap, so this guy had no idea what she was talking about. Finally he caught on and told her that the tap was empty, with a look that read why the hell would anyone want to drink syphilis? 
4. It's a small world after all. I found out that I had seen my playwriting teacher's translation of "Tartuffe" when I had auditioned for Marquette's theater program. That same teacher, Michael West, had gotten one of his first playwriting jobs at the Gaiety Theater School while it was still run by Joe Dowling, now head of the Guthrie in Minnesota, who I had met just the week before through my lovely aunt Kathleen. Kevin Bacon's involved somehow too, I just haven't figured it out yet. 
5. Our washer is also a dryer. I'll let you guys digest that at your own rate. I'm still a little weirded out by it. These things take time. 

Let me know how you all are doing! My NYU email still works, or dylanindublin@gmail.com. It all goes to the same place, so either one. 

Until next time (I'm going to think of a better sign-off; maybe "OPEN THE DOOOOOR"? I'll work on it). XO.

A New Beginning

First and foremost, I wanted to let everyone know that I have landed safely and soundly in Dublin, and thus far the experience has been fantastic. I've been fighting off the jet-lag to embrace my neighborhood as much as possible these last few days, and even in the most cosmopolitan, urban, and populated part of the country the traditional Irish spirit that I had learned so much about is present in every native that I come across. 

This day, particularly, is one of great significance. For one, it is my father's birthday, and I have been thinking about how incredibly grateful I am to have him and my mother as my parents. I recognize that I am living a bit (okay, more than a bit) of a charmed life, and I know how much that they sacrifice so that I can most fully achieve my dreams. Even beyond that, though, my dad is the man that I model myself to be more like daily, because of his ability to be both diplomatic and assertive, dignified and goofy, tough and tender, engaging and engaged. Even today, he's probably out shoveling our sidewalk, whether or not the snow calls for it. If he ever decides to come in and reads this, Dad, know how thankful I am for you. Happy Birthday.

Of course, this day is also the beginning of a new presidency, and a new mentality in the United States that has been heard around the world -- including O'Donoghue's Pub, where I took in the inauguration this afternoon. A mixture of natives and visitors fell silent to take in Obama's speech. I didn't know how captured I had become in it until the screen blipped out, for no more than half of a second, and I felt my body clench in panic of losing a single word. It was another wonderful speech by a man that the world will stop to listen to. 

In the background, I struggled to listen to Elizabeth Alexander's poem -- and it was exactly what I needed to hear. I don't know if any of you heard it, but I wish it were our national anthem. 

Here is the transcript of the poem. I will view this experience here with new eyes having heard it. You should read it at least once aloud.

Missing all of you very much. I will post a more Dublin-oriented write-up very soon. 

XO,

Dylan