Carton Square

Water, water, all around

2012-02-08T05:12:00.000Z

Our first week back in Canada was a week of rain. A very typical Vancouver-style rain, in that it was persistent and heavy. Similar to the sort of rain that flooded Dundrum and the Dart in Dublin last fall. In a Vancouver winter that sort of rain occurs more often then not.

Jet lagged, having just arrived from relatively sunny Ireland, the bleak greyness of the sky combined with the bleak grey of the pavement below to cast all the buildings in a grey hue. I went from beautiful, rolling, green countryside to a grey horizon of modern glass high rises and rundown single story commercial strips. Our trip over to Victoria proved to be equally dismal. We were subject to wet feet and an encompassing feeling of having moved into a bland and bleak existence.

However, I have since had reason to change my outlook on my fate. Victoria is about as rainy as Dublin in the winter, and often suffers from droughts in the summer. In other words, it is a much, much sunnier place than Vancouver. Last week I was too frantic in my unpacking and grocery shopping (final bill for last week alone totalled over $1000!) to enjoy the sunshine. However this week is a different story, and I have come to realize that James Bay is a wonderful place to live!

Last Friday we headed to the east of us to explore the HUGE city park of Beacon Hill (just two blocks away). On Saturday we walked north into downtown Victoria to do some shopping (we're five blocks away from the Parliament Buildings). And today we walked to the water that borders the west and south sides of James Bay. It is a small community, bounded by geography, and its expansive waterfront was something we needed to explore.

So I packed a picnic lunch and picked Nikolai up from preschool with the firm intention of finding a beach to rest upon. Nikolai was more than game to follow in my plan, so we headed for the ocean, a mere four blocks from the James Bay Community Centre and Primary School (and to think we'd never even seen it!). At that point along our journey, we were high up on a break water. The view was terrific, and I am determined to return on a clearer day for a better view of mountains (from a quick look at maps.google it appears that they are located in the USA).

However, the break water eventually opened up at Ogden Point to give us a rocky, log-strewn beach to have our picnic on.

From there we continued our walk down past the small port and cruise ship terminal to fisherman's wharf. Fisherman's wharf is clearly a tourist trap, but on a Tuesday in February we had it all to ourselves. It is a "floating village" that mainly comprises floating restaurants, whale watching tour providers, sea kayak rentals and hippy/artsy housing. We bought chips from one of the two restaurants still open in the off-season and watched the local seal population beg for food. Since I was the only tourist around, I decided to take more than my standard fare of photos.

The first photo is one that Nikolai took, and the others are of floating houses that peaked my interest.

And suddenly I'm shy

2012-02-03T04:28:00.001Z

Moving is always difficult. Our last move into the apartment with a castle view... without the furniture... and only a few carloads of stuff... was easy. However, this move definitely is the most difficult we've ever gone through. The logistics are all too complex.

To start off with, a good portion of our day-to-day items are on a boat... hopefully floating their way up along the Pacific Coast after crossing at the Panama Canal. There's the piles of clothes and things we cared enough about to carry with us in suitcases. Then there's the Storage Locker. The Storage Locker deserves the italicized proper noun status because it truly is that ominous. Everything we stored had a value that somehow made it worth it's place in the locker. We didn't pack for practicality, we packed for our emotional connection to The Stuff. And we densely filled that 7 cu.ft. space with so much Stuff that there wasn't an inch of wasted space.

So here I am on the receiving end of all this stuff that I loved. And that's the punch line of it... I loved that stuff two years ago... but now... I'm wondering why we bothered keeping the set of martini glasses when we gave away the wine glasses? What the hell were we thinking? So instead of owning practical things like a bed frame or pots and pans, I am confronted with an antique ice block refrigerator and Brad's collection of old t-shirts.

My whine doesn't end there... oh no! I need a time machine to go back to my pre-Ireland self, and tell myself off for not thoroughly labelling boxes. Like right now, I could really do with the computer speakers (music would make the chore of unpacking much more bearable). I know we must have kept them, because I found the bass... but I've looked through nearly all the boxes in a desperate search for some music... and I've found a ton of stuff we don't need... fish bowl, lava lamp, Turkish coffee cups, Japanese tea cups... but no cooking pots and no freakin' speakers.

However, I don't want to leave everyone wondering about our welfare... trapped in a life without home cooked food (which would probably be my ultimate punshiment). A friend of mine dropped off a complete set of well-used, but still quite nice pots, that should tide us over until we get our lives sorted out.

And just in case you were wondering... which you probably weren't, but hey, this is my rant... I've been to four different grocery stores and bought more than $500 worth of groceries, and I still barely have enough food to make a meal. Mental note: buy salt tomorrow!

Photos: Above is the view from the ferry. The funny thing about moving somewhere rainer than Ireland is that both Brad and I had wet feet nearly all of last week. Below is only about half of my stored collection of antique jars... seriously WTF.

All the small things

2012-01-28T02:25:00.001Z

Before I left Maynooth, I had imagined myself blogging about all the things that living in Ireland had taught me. I imagined writing about Nikolai's accent (he has one, though I doubt it will last more than a month or two). I imagined writing about laundry (and the many skills required to actually get your clothes to air-dry in such a humid environment). I imagined writing about my culinary lessons in cooking "good value" vegetables (potatoes, cabbage and various other roots veg).

However, those were just the lessons I thought I'd learned from living in Ireland. Instead it seems the actual lessons learned are much more profound and social than simply learning how to live without indoor heating. Anyways, after having spent a few days in Vancouver and Victoria, here is a more accurate list of what I learned while in Ireland.

1. My first surprise came while we were getting a bunch of chores done (updating our bank account info, buying cellphones, etc.). I was perplexed to find that the service people were impatient with me. Of course they were friendly and polite, but they were also distinctly impatient with my dithering over decisions. I'm not sure why anyone would be expected to take less than 2 minutes to decide which cellphone plan to choose? Regardless, the service personnel certainly wanted me to "get on with it".

In Ireland, I was always the fast, efficient and organized person. When we first moved there I was the person who was impatiently waiting in line to be served. So I am surprised to discover that I apparently did learn how to slow down and take my time with things (though I bet my Irish friends are laughing right now, as I never did learn how to be late for an appointment!).

2. After a few days of attending playgroups and taking public transit I realized that Canadians are very friendly, whereas the Irish are good friends. What I mean by this is hard to define... but I will try to explain myself through a series of examples.

i) We have yet to take a bus ride in British Columbia where someone doesn't try to make small talk with us. Everyone seems to want to talk about random mundane things, like the guy making my Americano telling me about his juice bar habit (spinach, carrot, spirolina and apple juice on that particular day). This perturbs Nikolai as he's not used to being constantly talked to by strangers. In Ireland, I'd seldom get approached by complete strangers... (though I've heard that this happens a lot to tourists, but it's likely because you're identifiable as a tourist.)

ii) Never in all my time in Ireland has anyone asked me about my plans for more children. Anything even treading close to a subject of a personal nature would not be a topic of conversation, unless it was chosen to be shared with a close friend. However, at our first playgroup, I was asked about my future children plans, no less than 3 times, by complete strangers. To be honest, I was a bit taken aback by the immediate intimacy of these simple introductory conversations. I learned from one mom that she'd moved from her home in Peru to escape "the family business" and I met a mom who told me all about her divorce. Basically, anyone who talked with me was more than willing to go into the deeper realms of their personal stories almost immediately.

Though these features seem "friendly" they are about as "friendly" as facebook. You may "like" the fact that I'm wearing pink socks, but it doesn't actually mean that we've had a conversation in the past 10 years. Whereas, when we made a personal connection in Ireland it tended to lead to a reciprocal exchange of kindnesses; dinners, sharing toys, cookbooks, exchanging clothes and endless cups of tea.

3. I also have been surprised by the overwhelming affluence and poverty that both present themselves openly in the Vancouver and Victoria streets. Perhaps the poverty isn't any different from that found in Ireland, but it is a striking thing to see a clearly struggling homeless person sitting outside of a grocery store like Whole Foods (Whole Foods would be like Fallon and Byrne, with a much larger store... and notable mostly because Vancouver would have at least a dozen equally posh grocery stores).

There is just so much to buy here! I am bowed under by choice and the plethora of options. Coupled with this increased amount of choice is an increased amount of advertising. Everything is for sale and your happiness is the currency of trade (though I do not profess to know whether owning a baguette flown in from Paris will ACTUALLY make you happy, or rather leave you feeling just that little bit sad).

I can tell that Nikolai is overwhelmed, and Brad and I are certainly not immune to the consumerism fever. I think my antidote will be to spend a few weeks hiding in the relatively small community of James Bay. And god forbid that I dare to venture in the Uptown district that is being heralded on the sides of all the Victoria buses. It somehow stinks just a little bit too much of the "Celtic Tiger" era.

Next week we stop being tourists and finally move into our new home. Phew! Nikolai had upwards of 5 temper tantrums today... so I think he's tired of our transient lifestyle (or perhaps it's another repeat of the roseola incident?). Anyways, it brings into question the future of my blog... though now that I have some Irish followers, I'll have to do some blogging about Victoria, if only to encourage future visitors! The photos are from a December trip to the National Botanic Gardens in Dublin.

I stood by your Atlantic Sea

2012-01-20T13:43:00.000Z

I should be sleeping off the jet lag. I should be sorting through the luggage. I should be doing laundry. But these last few days have filled me to the brim with everything and nothing at all. I need to download, offload and shift my emotions into a place of rest. So here is the tale of my last few days in Ireland.

It is a frantic thing to collapse our whole world into a few small suitcases. In the end we recycled, donated and threw out more than we took back to Canada. That final packing is always tough. Sorting through the remaining closets full of coupons, paperclips and half finished projects. Throwing away the clothes full of holes, the much loved jacket with the broken zipper and the shoes that had never really fit properly. I listened to Joni Mitchell's Blue. It is an album that is so full of loss and longing for the past and the future, that it seemed a fitting outlet for my feelings. That was Friday. Exhausting. Headache inducing.

We wanted to have a going away party to say all our goodbyes at once. In the end it wasn't really a time for our goodbyes, since it was dominated by a completely unruly ruckus of children tearing about, giddy with too much chocolate. The craic (talk), aided by good food and plenty of beer, ebbed along late into the night. That was Saturday.

On Sunday we availed of our plan to see a wee bit more of Ireland before leaving. Claire had flown over for the weekend, and we'd rented a car to help us with the final move. First we drove down to the Rock of Cashel. It is perhaps most famous in recent times for its looming stateliness over the small town below. Regardless, it seems to be the ONE tourist sight in Ireland that nearly all the Irish have actually gone to.

It was unfortunately under a good deal of scaffolding the day we went. It was also a day for a bitter wind. Needless to say, we weren't that impressed with the famous rock. However, despite being a cold Sunday in January, the tour buses were still arriving, definitely signalling the importance of this Irish historical monument.

Nearby is the much lesser known Cahir Castle. It was not a place that our friends had gone to, it lacked the tour buses, and was a rather cheaply priced (€3). However, we loved it. It is a well maintained tower castle with the outside walls still standing. You're even allow to walk the walls despite the lack of railings! Perhaps that's a bit dangerous, but we kept a firm hand on our wee man. We loved the model scale of the castle. We loved the women in medieval times exhibit. Though it wasn't ever as large as Trim, it is in far better condition and is certainly worth a visit.

The next day, Monday, was my first day of tears. It was picking Nikolai up from his last day at preschool that did it to me. Nikolai was so happy-go-lucky. His teachers had been getting him excited for his trip and promised to keep in touch via pen pal correspondence. He had been a particular pet of one of the teachers and I could tell she was trying not to show her tears as they reported on Nikolai's performance. (For those who are interested, apparently he's willing to work on the hard stuff and he's got a good play ethos.) Thank goodness we had the buggy (stroller) so I could push Nikolai along in front of me. My tears were dry by the time we got home, so I managed to avoid getting him upset about the loss.

We stayed at our friend (and landlord)'s house that night to hang out with her brood. More tears followed at our departure the next day. So we were a bit of a somber crew as we set off to on our last adventure. There are hundreds of passage tombs all over Ireland, but there are only a few that are linked to specific solar events. The most famous are Knowth and Newgrange, which are oriented to the solstices. On the other side of the Boyne Valley, in a small corner of Meath is the Three Witches. Even my friends who had grown up in Meath did not know of Loughcrew.

In the summer there are tours out to the tombs from a coffee shop up the road (Loughcrew Gardens). In the winter, hikers collect the key to the tomb and wander up the wild moors to the sacred location on their own. As we drove to the coffee shop I was full of sadness, and mournfully sang "A Case of You", as Blue had been stuck in my head for a few days... it was a surprise to discover, upon entering the cafe, that they had Blue playing in the background. Perhaps it was just a coincidence? Regardless, it was hard for me to see past the symbolism as I silently sang along. After finishing the a goat cheese and coleslaw sandwich that they served for lunch (the menu is based on what they have in the fridge), we left for our journey to the tomb.

We hiked up to the most famous of the three witches. It is hard to describe the moment. The view was so breath-taking that it managed to distract even Nikolai was we made our way up the slope of the hill. At the top there was one large mound, circled by 8 smaller passage graves that had all since fallen in. A ridge ran across the length of the hill, seemingly pointing to the other sisters in one direction and Newgrange in the other.

The cave itself was much more intricately carved than Newgrange, with swirls as well as a flower like "sun" pattern. It is oriented to light up on the mornings of the equinoxes (September 21 and March 21), with the sun's path across the chamber marked by the carved "sun" pattern. First it shines through to a small side chamber, before hitting the wall of the main chamber causing the sun to reflect off the rock surface to light up a second smaller side chamber.

The existence of such a creation seems amazing and Divine when the mounds are considered against a backdrop of history. Built over 5000 years ago, the precise nature of the solar worshipping calculations suggests a fairly advanced civilization.

There were more goodbyes at a dinner party that evening. Aisling had spent two days preparing our favorite dishes, despite the labour intensive nature of the recipes, we dined on spanikopita and moussaka.

That was our official goodbye, but my heart was still caught up on a hill in the midlands of Meath. Ireland is a cold, dark place in winter. Ireland is a cold, rainy place in summer. It is a boggy place. It is a place that wears the scars and poverty from a colonial past. Yet it is a place that pulls on the heart strings of everyone who's ever lived there, and many who come to visit. Up on that hill I found the beating heart of a nation. It enveloped me whole, and spoke to me. Now I know that I will go back to Ireland, because I could not possibly stay away.

And if you could speak, what a fascinating tale you would tell

2012-01-13T11:07:00.001Z

By all rights this blog should be about departing. Life is busy with packing and arranging for our flight. And tonight Brad is at O'Neills sharing a farewell pint with the Maynooth Chain Gang (go to their blog if you want to see a pic of the mamils. From a brief glance it's fairly clear that Brad will never blend into the Irish crowd.). But no! Tonight I will not fall into a pint Guinness and drown in my sadness. I am far too organized for that! I have left myself a way out... an escape hatch back into our sunny Spanish vacation. So toss your weighty pint aside, and enjoy a glass of sangria while I tell you the tale of Granada.

Granada is the home of the Alhambra. THE Alhambra. I didn't even know what it was... but I'd heard of it, floating around in the vernacular of life. The Alhambra. Clearly it was something I just had to go check out for myself.

So... it's a Moorish Palace of spectacular size and scope. It's stands firm because it was never sieged... As it turns out January 2nd, the day of our decided trip to Granada, is the day when the Moors peacefully decided to leave the Alhambra after realizing that no one was coming to rescue them.

However, that's not the story I want to tell you about today. There's loads on the web about the Alhambra because it's a UNESCO world heritage site and a major tourist trap. That would about sum up our experience of the Alhambra... it was nice... well groomed... and entirely sticky with tourists. There is so many tourists that a ticket only lets you in for 1/2 a day, and if you actually want to see the palace then you'd better be ready to queue up.

Afterwards we headed into the city itself just in time to get caught up in the Jan 2nd Granada liberation celebrations. Lost amongst the crush of bodies, it was hard to tell what was going on. There was a military band, speakers on the balcony of City Hall, and heaps of woman wearing fur coats (seriously, I'd never seen so many fur coats before!)

But lets move along to the crux of the Granada story... away from the packed cafes and bars... away from the carnival stalls selling handmade goods... and into the rundown old caravan that came free to use with the rental of the villa. The caravan that decided to lose half of its gears just as we were pulling out of town.

After discovering the car could no longer shift into second, Brad decided to pull into the parking lot of a museum. And the museum guard gave us a 10 minute warning to pull back out of the parking lot as the museum was closing (damn siesta!). As we didn't actually have a proper map of the city we decided to pull off the highway bound road onto a side road... then on to another side road... and then we circled around a few blocks... until we eventually beached the car in front of a hospital.

Siesta and the tow truck driver who did not speak a word of English came to our aid. Cellphone conversations were flying... between our host and the tow truck driver... the insurance company and the tow truck driver... and us, lost in the debate as to where the car was going to go. Benalmadena, the location of the villa and our host, was more than a 2 hour drive away.

How could they arrange the transport of us (4 adults and el nino) and the car down to the coast?
It was siesta and it was a holiday. Any other day... Si... but it was the Fiesta de la Toma!! and it was 3pm!!! Luckily, the lovely English speaking person on the other end of the cellphone was decisive. The caravan would spend the night in a car hotel before the debate on it's fate would continue. As for us, we would be given a rental car from Avis.

Sigh, apparently even Avis takes a siesta...

So the most memorable moment of my time in Granada would have to be the hours we spent in the lobby and cafeteria of the Clinica Inmaculada Concepcion. It was fascinating for two reasons:

1. It was like visiting a hotel. The lobby had new, comfortable couches for guests to sit on. The cafeteria served a great veggie club sandwich with artichoke hearts, asparagus, tomato, lettuce, cheese and most notably a toothpick to hold the 3 layers together. At only €3.50 it was a sandwich worth returning for.

2. In the 1.5 hours we spent waiting for the Avis siesta to end, I never saw a single patient walk through that waiting room. But I guess there's not that much demand for an immaculate conception these days.

Below is a picture of the car in a typical Spanish carpark. Brad gets kudos for some amazing parking skills!

And these two pictures are from the cactus garden in Arroyo de la Miel. I've just included them for fun... as I'm unlikely to do another blog on Spain!

Sing Me Spanish Techno

2012-01-05T14:34:00.001Z

Any tour of the Costa del Sol is mainly about the beaches. We traveled to beaches all up and down the coast from Malaga and Benalmadena to Fuengirola. They provided the usual beach experiences. Picture white soft sand dotted with polished shells, a steady row of over priced tapas joints and kiosks flaunting inflatable beach toys, cheap sunglasses and other kitsch.

Our host was entirely of this vein of Spain. An expat Brit who owned a pub nestled in the heartland of pasty-white British sun catchers. His brown and ragged skin bore all the tell tale signs from years of over indulgent tanning. With the easy smile of a practiced host, he provided a knowledgeable expertise to the ways of the Spanish that often fell into a rote memorization of facts that didn't always seem to reflect the reality of our experiences. Perhaps we are less inclined to tut at the wanton ways of a population that still believes in a three hour siesta than his usual pack of tourists. It's true, that the sweeping application of the siesta closure confused us at first; but we quickly learned to live in the ebb and flow of an afternoon at home.

Since it was December, the weather was not often leading us to a life of margaritas on the beach, and so we managed to explore a number of the surrounding towns.

MALAGA: Large and urban, Malaga is a place for the Spanish to live and work (unlike the other tourist centred coastal cities). We hiked up to the castle and enjoyed the view. Though I probably wouldn't have enjoyed the heat generating hike if it had been summer, as it was, we benefited from the cool day. At the top, Gibralfaro was a cheap enough tour at only €2, however, it wasn't the most impressive castle I've been too. (Though perhaps I'm jaded after having lived next to a ruin for so long).

We also went to the Picasso museum, which was quite pricey, and certainly didn't contain his most impressive works. However, the bottom floor did have an interesting layering of ruins from Pheonician through to the Renaissance.

Malaga is most notable for having nice tapas joints, good shopping piazzas and a great food market, which appeared to be free of tourist pricing!

MIJAS: We went to Mijas A LOT. Basically it's a cute, whitewashed pueblo (village), full of artisan shops (though admittedly interspersed with tourist cr*p). Viva the off-season touring! Having seen the huge car park dedicated to tour buses, I can only imagine what it would be like in the summer!

GIBRALTAR: After waiting in the huge line of cars to have our passports checked, we weren't left with much time to tour this imperialistic enclave. I imagine that it is the ONLY border in the EU that is still passport controlled. However, ownership of that contentious rock is still a hot topic of debate... and the likely reason for that will soon be revealed...

The touristy thing to do would be to take the gondola up to see the old Fort. Unfortunately we didn't have time for that. Instead the tourist bureau recommended that we walk up the High Street. And what an ugh ugly High Street! It feels like you've stepped into a trashy mall full of stores selling alcohol and jewelry. My mom had a headache, so our first stop was for a huge bottle of Aspirin... which came to just £1.50? Then we noticed all the shops were advertising Duty Free... a few queries later and we discovered why the place was like an airport shopping mall, and why Spain might be more than a little PO'ed at the stronghold of Gibraltar. Well, how would you feel about having an open border with a place where EVERYTHING is tax free?

RONDA: This is a lovely little hill top town with a truly gorgeous old town. Unfortunately, we forgot our camera... as it's a place that is best described with a photo. However, we did have our cellphone camera. The most notable thing is the massive gorge that divides the town in two, and is best viewed from the two few beautiful bridges that cross it.

We also went to Granada, but this post is long enough... so that adventure will have to remain for another day.

At the cross roads of the sea

2011-12-31T14:42:00.000Z

--Tangers, Tangiers... off the beaten path. French mumbled in disjointed bodily cues. Tourists lilting in their obvious incongruity. We swam like novices caught in the wave of people, sand and olive oil. Staring away and within at the same time.--

Finding travel advice about Tangers online was surprisingly difficult. You would imagine given the millions of tourists caught up in the Costa del Sol beach culture that there would be a few who would choose to venture on to something a bit more rich in culture... but from the sea of information on the web, I could not find out what I really needed to know. This blog stands to correct that lack of information.

GETTING TO TANGERS

i) Algeciras
There are a number of port options, and a number of companies to choose from. We opted to go from Algeciras because it was one port that guaranteed departures everyday. Our way out was windy; very, very windy, so none of the fast ferries were running. I suspect that such winds are a common occurrence, as the coastal highway is dotted with windsocks, and there is a MASSIVE wind farm along the coast between Algeciras and Tarifa.

Anyways... you could look for ferry companies and schedules on line... or you could go to one of the many road side booths advertising tickets to Tangers.... but that would be an absolute folly. Even on a good day the ferries don't keep a schedule. On a windy day... well... all in good time.

At the ferry terminal there will be people hassling you to buy tickets from them. Ignore them and march right to the end of the terminal where the foot passengers ticket sales are. There you will find a current schedule (with more than half the sailings cancelled on our windy day departure) for all of the companies. There are at least half a dozen companies to choose from. Take the sailing that is the most convenient for you and buy your tickets directly from that company.

On a windy day, the authorities (not sure who... but we only gathered this information by overhearing other people's conversation) only allow so many boats to be crossing to Tangers at a time. This meant that our boat had to wait 1.5 hours to depart. We were a bit put out by that... however, we later met someone else who had to wait 5 hours to depart... so perhaps we were pretty lucky after all!

All the boats from Algeciras dock at Tangers Med. Which means that the boat trip takes 1.5 hours... and you dock a 45 min drive from Tangers. The ferry companies offer a free bus trip on a fancy coach bus to Tangers... but getting on the bus is a massive free-for-all push, as there definitely was fewer seats then passangers.

So my summary of that experience was: cost €20 each, total travel time >2 hours, some wind, reliable departures.

ii) Tarifa
The ferry from Tarifa runs right to Tangers city port... literally just a 15 min walk from the Medina. It's a fast little catamaran boat that only takes 30 min to cross. We decided to do this on our return trip. It was a much nicer voyage... and would come highly recommended. The ferry company even offers a free bus ride to Algeciras on the other side! The only draw back was that it cost €36 each and it won't run on a windy day. Even on our calm day of travel BOTH Brad and I were a bit nauseated by the tossing of the small ship. Clearly the mouth of the Mediterranean is a turbulent place!

EATING IN TANGERS
There are restaurants... but these only open for dinner starting at 8pm. Tangers is 1 hour behind Spain which means that it was more like a 9pm start. Proper restaurants will serve alcohol, and the food prices aren't too bad when compared to Europe (€7 a plate).

However, there are LOADS of tea shops serving food, plus many more fast food options. These won't sell alcohol (to be honest, I didn't actually see any confirmatory evidence of drinking ANYWHERE in Tangers... though there did appear to be beach side bars, these weren't ever open... perhaps it was just too wintery?). Informal eating is much cheaper (€3 a plate) and was very tasty. We ate veggie tangine, veggie couscous, Moroccan salad, and Arabic salad. All yummy and no tummy issues at all.

(On that note, I never did find out if the drinking water was good... so we stuck with bottled water, even though the locals seemed to be availing of the free tap water.)

Street food seemed popular, but we only ate a few things from the street as they seemed to involve a lot of seafood or sugar. Dairy seemed to be all goat... but there wasn't really much dairy around.

The only real advice we would offer is:
i) Avoid the street cafes around the Grand Socco as they are 100% tourist hustlers.
ii) Tipping 10% is the norm.
iii) The mint tea you see everyone drinking is way too sweet.

STAYING IN TANGERS
We stayed in a Riad. There are hotels and they run at normal Euro pricing. There are pensions everywhere, which I suspect are cheap but not terribly well maintained. A Riad is a traditional hotel. By nature they are in older buildings and damp. The reason for the damp is that they are comprised of rooms situated off of an inner courtyard. The door of your room opens into the courtyard.

Our experience felt very traditional. The only heating for the building was the fire built in the courtyard every night. Security on our doors and windows were minimal at best, but that added to the authenticity as they were definitely historical. The outside door into the Riad was beefy, and the Riad (typically) only had 4-5 rooms, leading to a more private atmosphere.

VISITING TANGERS
Truthfully there isn't much to see in Tangers. A few museums and parks make up the lot. You could spend a lot of time lost in the ancient Medina, haggling with the vendors over their wares. There's a few other markets, including a food market that surely wouldn't have passed any Western food safety regulations. The local men seem to spend all their time drinking tea and coffee in one of the many salons. I felt a bit uncomfortable joining in that part of the culture... given that I'm generally not brave enough to walk into a room full of men (who seem to like to stare). The Petit Socco has a few salons that are more tourist friendly and not too badly priced (€0.90 for a coffee).

General advice:
i) Barter. But don't expect that much from it.... it's not like Mexico or Turkey. Basically check around for prices before deciding on the value of the item. Some people will try and rip you off, but most won't.

ii) Ignore the hustlers, unless you actually do need help. The hustlers basically imagine themselves to be "guides", working for tips. A tip of a Euro would be appropriate for having someone help you find your hotel. And given the general lack of appropriate maps, and the thousands of short streets, you may need to seek such help a few times. If you look lost they will descend upon you, like flies on honey. However, simply ignore them completely or provide a strong "NO" if they start to follow you. Our first night there I was quite bothered by them; however, by the second day it was easy to avoid feeling harassed.

iii) Dress conservatively. Most of the women cover their hair and wear more traditional clothes. Many of the men wear long robes (I particularly liked the pointed hoods of the mountain Berbers). All the men stared at me, even though I was wearing jeans and a sweater. On the same token, most men would barely address me in restaurant and shops. It made things more difficult as my French is much better than Brad's.

iv) Don't assume everyone speaks French. It's polite to ask. Many people spoke as much English as they did French. However, I would say that mostly everyone understood some French... though I will admit that their accent and my accent did make some things difficult to negotiate.

v) Don't use Euro's... it's always cheaper to pay with Dirhams. We used less than €150 (1650 Dirhams) for our trip... (excluding lodgings) and we did a fair amount of shopping with that! The local handmade goods seem to be leather, metal working, pottery and clothes. In fact our Riad seemed to be located in the clothing district, with everyone winding thread and sewing away late into the evening.

vi) There is no siesta, but some shops do close for the call to prayer.

vii) Canadians and Americans (and I assume Europeans) don't need visas. There is paperwork to fill out at the border, but no fees to be paid. Also you don't need vaccinations or anything like that... so it's relatively easy to pop over for a short trip!

Phew! That about sums it up! We had a fab time... and only had to cuddle with Nikolai for 4 hours to make up for his feelings of abandonment. (He had a great time with Grammy, Grampy and Auntie Claire... but felt a wee bit needy when we arrived back!)

Feliz Navidad!

2011-12-26T07:46:00.000Z

Truthfully Christmas was a bit lackluster. Nikolai and Grammy have both been suffering from a flu/cold for a few days, and Nikolai woke up fevered and listless. He didn't care about presents or Santa or the crumbs of cookies or anything that involved him moving from his prone position on the couch.

As the only child in the house we depended on his enthusiasm to bring about the Christmas cheer! So I resulted to drugs to bring down his fever... just one dose to get him through the gift opening. It worked! We had about 4 hours of energy before he crashed again.

Anyways, today Brad and I are off on an adventure. The kind of adventure where it's safest to leave our laptop and toddler behind. We don't feel too guilty about leaving a sick toddler because Nikolai woke up full of excitement for the Christmas toys he'd received yesterday. Hopefully that was the end of his flu!

2011-12-21T16:13:00.000Z

--Forward: I (Emillie) was a bit busy at making Christmas decorations out of paper, so I put Brad to the task of writing the first blog entry from our vacation destination. And the punchline... is Spain! Malaga's Costa del Sol muchos gracias. So this blog is truly a joint effort. --

We now feel completely justified in having fled the Irish winter to enjoy Christmas in Southern Spain. Upon arriving, our local guide mentioned to us that Benalmadena is a bit of a mecca for Irish vacationers, and sure enough as soon as we entered the city limits we spied five Irish pubs. (There are also two Dunnes stores on the coast!)

As for our vacation, we're almost following a standard script here, eating the citrus fresh from the front yard and swimming in the backyard pool. Nikolai was quite excited by the prospect of picking some fruit and dipping his toes into the warm water, but by far his favorite activity involves knocking balls around the billiard table.

Anyways, we're making the most of our time in the sun, and plan on visiting some local highlights. We've already spent an afternoon in Ronda and Malaga, and greatly enjoyed hiking around the old towns of both ciudads.

The picture above features "the Queen" picking an orange from the grove attached to our villa. Below is Nikolai and Grammy on the "honey beach".

Playing pool by the pool. The weather is balmy in the sun!

Posing on the stairs of the Malaga castle. The weather can also be quite chilly in the wind!

Noillaig shonas duit

2011-12-14T07:55:00.000Z

Back in September we bought and paid for a destination Christmas vacation with my parents and my sister. At the time we had no idea that we would be moving back to Canada only a short two weeks after returning from our trip. Regardless, the University is closed for two weeks over the holidays, so we might as well escape from this chilly place.

Since we leave on Saturday, my next blog will be coming from that warmer place. Today, I'm going to touch on Christmas in Ireland. Though the country is officially secular, 87% of the population would self-identify as Catholic. Some of these people fully embrace their Catholicisms. They attend mass every day, eat fish on Fridays, and avoid yoga as it could involve practicing another religion. The second tier is comprised of people who attend mass on Sundays. By far the majority of people probably only attend mass for funerals, weddings and baptisms.

The Catholic Church also owns at least half of everything. Obviously they own the churches... but they also own 3 of the 4 elementary schools in Maynooth, they own the Children's Hospital that Nikolai went to in Dublin, they own the grounds of NUIM and rents them to the University (debates between the University and the Priests over new buildings and campus life provides for much of the gossip around town). So Christmas in Ireland is much more CHRISTmass than it is in Canada.

Evidence of the nativity abound. The preschools teach songs about baby Jesus. The shops sell costumes for the nativity plays that will be performed by every class in Maynooth (I was tempted to buy Nikolai a Star costume... but might leave it till the sales).

We went to Dublin to see the lights and windows a few weekends ago. Dublin lights up in a way that is beyond anything I've seen in Canada. We walked up Henry Street as the sun was setting, so our better photos are all from the Grafton area. Above is a picture of the advent calendar that took me forEVER to sew. Below is Grafton.

A novel

2011-12-06T13:20:00.001Z

Anyone with some math skills or basic time management techniques would quickly come to realise that I have an awful lot of free time. Nikolai goes to preschool 3 hours a day, 5 days a week. That's 15 hours a week of free time! Yet I am far too busy to blog...

So what is it that I've been doing? And that has been my secret thus far...
...at least until today! After completing my second draft this morning I'm ready to share...
...I have been writing a novel.

I've always loved writing. Even as a 6 year old dyslexic kid, I was writing stories full of creatively spelled words. I loved writing my Master's thesis. I loved doing technical writing. So when I was granted a huge chunk of free time, I decided to give it a go. And here I am with approximately 60,000 words, divided up into 15 chapters. It's the usual stuff about relationships and finding yourself, etc. Much to Brad's chagrin it's not sci-fi or fantasy.

I know that I have a few more revisions to work on, but I suspect that they will go much more quickly than the initial ones. Which is a good thing, because BC doesn't offer a free preschool scheme, so I will be back to full time parenting status for another year and a half! However, it is more likely that we'll move on to the working/daycare scenario. Either way my novel will be shelved. This leads to the crux of my blog today... what do I do next?

This is not a plea for readers. I have no intention of distributing electronic copies for critique. The Internet is very clear on that... copyright and security is important. What's more, the few people I have told about my novel writing, generally respond with "am I in it? Did you write about me?" The answer to that question is simply, "no", I wrote about me! I am every character in the book, because how else could I possibly write about someone's experience? Regardless, I've decided I don't need all my friends and family "reading" into the hidden meanings of my novel unless I'm going to at least be paid a royalty!

Back to my current pondering... does anyone have any advice? From my Internet searching, it's clear that I need to get a literary agent... but how does one go about getting an agent? I assure you, I haven't written a glorified blog entry. It's a full story, start to finish. It has dialogue and descriptions and everything you need in a proper story. I was thinking of posting an excerpt... but I'm still fuzzy on the copyright issue.

Below is the writer, walking around the chilly streets of Dublin... for a few more weeks anyways!

I've got moving on my mind!

2011-11-28T13:07:00.001Z

My ex-pat mommy community is dwindling... with two mommies having left for the USA in November, one mommy moving back to Canada in December, and one mommy moving to Australia in January. So from amongst my crew of ex-pat friends that leaves just one person behind. Me.

At least that was the case until last Thursday... when... Brad finally got a job!!! For ease of dissemination here are the details.

Where: At a small aeronautics company in Victoria, BC.

When: Brad's contract is up on Jan 11th, and our tickets are booked for Jan 18th.

What: AHHHH! Three days and three nights of panic attacks have settled down into a quiet and blissful acceptance.

Why: I love Ireland, but I also love Victoria. My heart has more than enough chambers to hold all of this love.

How: I may be leaving Ireland, but I know it's not forever. The land of wind, sheep and embracing people will not escape us so easily.

Now we get down to the hard stuff. Moving. Never easy, but definitely made difficult by the great stretches of land and water that we must travel. At the moment my life is full of shipping, selling, donating and flying our possessions out of this apartment. Add to all that the fun of an 18 day xmas vacation (no spoilers) landing right in the middle of all this planning, and all I can say is PHEW!

Anyways, because I refuse to get all teary and sentimental so early in my moving process (spent 3 days wound up tighter than a top last week, and I don't wish to go back there quite yet) this blog is going to be an informative piece on moving "stuff" overseas.

Moving overseas is an expensive endeavor... if you've only a few things to take, flying with them as checked baggage is probably the cheapest (€50 -€100 each). Shipping is expensive and slow. However, you aren't given a weight restriction, so that's an added bonus (especially if you have a husband who simply can't help himself when he walks past a bookstore).

Airfreight tends to run at €130 a box. This is usually door-to-door, but it does have a weight restriction.

Deep sea freight runs at about €125 for just a few boxes, or €700 for 50 cu.ft. Though it does get cheaper the more you ship. This is for a door-to-door price. If you deliver to the shipping company yourself and collect it at the port it would be much cheaper.

Bells and Whistles: There are all sorts of things that companies can offer to make their prices seem more reasonable... like free fumigation, free boxes, bubble wrap and tape, free disposal of packing materials upon arrival, etc. But basically they really don't make much of a difference... unless you're going to Australia. Steffi is going Australia (good bye my sewing companion) and has a huge number of issues to deal with around inspections. For example, no wooden toys for her daughter.

Insurance: Insurance is tricky, because if you pack yourself then they only insure total loss, not damages. So if you want, say, your bike to be insured against damages then you have to hire professional packers. Insurance prices are based on your own evaluation of your items and is listed for each individual item (bike €700, book €10, etc). The price ranges from 2.5% to 3.5% of your goods evaluation. (Brad will have fun fitting Maximum Likelihood Curves to the value of stuff).

Plane: It is insurance that makes bringing your stuff with you on the plane much more affordable, because the airline automatically has insurance against loss or damage. And really, over seas there isn't a limit as to how much baggage you want to bring. We are each allowed 10 checked items... however, getting those items to and from the airport is a pain in the @ss, and will likely add to the cost. In our case, we have a starting point of 2 bikes, 1 bike trailer... then all of our boxes.

At the moment we're stuck between two shipping options and just bringing it all with us on the plane. One company quoted us a price €100 cheaper than our second favorite company; however, their insurance costs are higher by 1%. Just waiting to hear back about the cost of professional packers before doing the math to figure out what we're going to do.

The photos are emblematic of the blog. Everywhere (in this case, Ireland) has it's blights (in the potato above) and it's benefit. This summer Brad, myself and Nikolai all took horseback riding lessons. We loved it, and decided if we stayed in Ireland it would become a new hobby of ours. In the land of horses, a riding lesson is about the same price as a swimming lesson. Nikolai was in a class of very competent toddlers, and he wisely chose to ride the smallest horse. He never did learn to remember to hold on to his reins!

A blog of blogs

2011-11-24T13:49:00.001Z

This week I have a story to tell, which I am not going to tell. Some things are too personal for a blog. But I am so full of the story I cannot share, that my brain draws a blank for this week's blog. Oh the unfairness of it all! Cursed by the unsharable nature of a public blog. It concerns Nikolai, an unfortunate mishap and a trip to Crumlin hospital. (Where they asked us our religion upon admittance!! Brad and I felt a bit odd as we answered "none". We are very spiritual, ethical people. Does "none" describe our attachment to the universe and the grand design?).

Anyways, I can assure you as to the ending... all is well... and Nikolai is back to good form (meaning: good spirits and health).

But the Internet is a "forever" repository of information...
And Nikolai Zarikoff is such an easily google-able name (quite like his parents, Brad Zarikoff and Emillie Parrish)...
So the story of his mishap, at age 3, shouldn't be allowed to exist in such a public and electronic form...
Ah, the benefit of being John Smith, or really even Claire Parrish (sorry Claire!). It allows for an Internet anonymity that poor Nikolai shall never have. His life will be documented as he progresses through a series of on-line personalities, and it will be ever searchable. Most likely this will not mean very much... as his current career goals extend to being an airport security person or a train driver. It is most likely that his life will not enter to the zone of public scrutiny... but you never know. And I certainly don't want to start him off with an embarrassing story.

So instead today I will share a few interesting blogs that I love to look at occasionally. Perhaps if I'd gotten a bit more sleep last night... perhaps if the wind weren't battering against my window... perhaps if I weren't so full of motherly feelings I would have written a proper blog. Instead, I hope you enjoy the eclectic collection below:

FOOD: I like this blog because it tries to recreate authentic medieval recipes... and if you're a fantasy fan, then you might like the fact that the recipes all come from the Game of Thrones.

CRAFTS: About everything and anything crafty. Primarily a collection of inspiring ideas.

ENVIRONMENT: This is a pretty extreme eco-blog. It's all about how to live plastic free. It has loads of good ideas... but tends to make me feel a bit guilty. However, I still check it out to renew my sense of eco-warriorness.

HOME: This is my secret obsession. Really the only website, besides the BBC and weather, that I would check weekly. It's basically "Good Housekeeping" with an artsy-hippie kind of twist.

ECONOMICS: Brad follows Engineering/PhD blogs. But last week he found this... and it's worth a gander if you really want to know who has all the money.

INFORMATION: This website is all about creating visual graphics to depict science. My particular favorite is the graphic depicting the scientific evidence for health supplements. It's good to know if it's worth shelling out for the latest fad.

The picture is of Steffi and I at a craft sale. We've been very busy crafting this fall. We still have some of the items left, and created an etsy shop to try and tap into the online market. It was only after I started playing around on esty that I realized there are many, many, many, many people just like me. Hurrah for the Stay-at-Home moms!

My conspiracy theory

2011-11-16T14:16:00.001Z

Today the students are marching in Dublin. Protesting cuts to government grants and increases in fees. Yesterday the news was all about the military bases that will be closed. And the day before that we were hearing all about the universal housing charges.

Yes, it's budget time again. Hurrah for austerity measures as this small country tries to cut another €6 billion from it's budget.

I listen to the beating of the students' drums as they make their steady march past my current perch, from the campus to the train. Their forces are to join the other schools in the age-old student cry for free education. Meanwhile, back in the reality of EU/IMF bailout, and a government trying to please everyone and no one at the same time, the Taoiseach (Prime Minister) has been meeting with the German Chancellor. Press articles about it are rather lack luster... it's not like anything real could come of such a meeting. However, it is worth noting that the press release mentioned "treaty changes".

And that is the crux of my not-so-very-out-there conspiracy theory. Sorry, no aliens taking over the White House, or anything even as exciting as the mind controlling properties of Kellogg's Corn Flakes. My theory is, that this whole time... this endless spring-summer-fall meetings solving the Euro crisis (without actually solving anything) was really all about treaty changes. Adding money to the bailout fund was just a time buying manoeuvre. They need everyone on board before they can jump on the train that will eventually lead to the strengthening of the ECB. And how do you get everyone on board?

Well, I think our friend George W. Bush perfected this particular political maneuver. I refer to it as "frightening everyone into blind submission". Want to invade some random oil rich countries? Keep everyone permanently on red alert.

Want to get rid of a rather sleazy head of state? Have the markets rally at a rumour of his demise. (Please note, that the markets don't need to follow through on that promised rallying after he's actually been dispatched.)

So if you want to have a centralized taxation system? Well then spend a few years being terrified about the markets completely blowing up! Then, slowly, ever so slightly, hint at the ideal solution. As today's press conference has shown... it seems that a more unified European economy is the actual solution to the debt crisis. As for the continuous promises of bailouts and reforms? Well, they're just around to distract, until everyone is ready to accept the difficult reality.

What does the future hold? A fractious Europe teetering on the brink of crisis? Or a unified front of economic power? This is how the future is being presented... and it is up to the European citizens to decide what that future actually looks like.

-of note: I don't really have an opinion on the issue. If Greece and Italy default, my meager savings will hardly be affected. It is the retirement funds of the baby boomers that are truly at stake here. So perhaps rather than a presentation of Europe in Crisis versus a United Continent, one could view it as a debate between European Sovereignty versus the Boomers' savings funds. Regardless, I don't imagine that this debate is over yet. Once the European crisis is solved, I suppose we'll get to do it all over again with the USA!

The photos are of a random roadside monastery and a sleeping cat.

Living Like an American in Paris

2011-11-09T07:43:00.000Z

We've had a few people ask us about our ex-pat lives; wondering how is it different from just moving around Canada. This likely comes from a place of European dreaming, as there is a part in most of us that secretly ponders spending a year en Provence, or dancing in the lights of London. While I'm pretty sure that living in a suburb of Dublin isn't high on most people's lists, we are able to share our thoughts and experiences on being "abroad".

As well, the lens of our life has narrowed as of late, to focus on our ex-pat lives. Brad has been actively looking for a permanent position, and opportunities in Ireland are as appealing and tenable as those in Vancouver. So the questions and pondering of our living in Ireland have reached a heightened tenor. What would it mean for Nikolai to grow up in Ireland... to become Irish? Is that the end of Hockey and an embracing of Hurley? It is all too ephemeral... and certainly too stressful. So instead I shall focus on what it means to be an ex-pat.

I cannot imagine how it must feel to live in a culture where the dominant language is not the first language that springs to your lips. Even in the freedom of the English language we find ourselves often stranded, not understanding the socially appropriate way to act. It's obvious how to mind your P's and Q's, but what about the deeper layer of social interactions? Something that everyone else in the culture instinctively understands because they were raised with it. It is not something that anyone can explain to you because they are not actively aware of the social taboos. Likewise no one would outright accuse you of doing the wrong thing because it's just not that obvious.

While I'm sure that I often blunder through this culture, like a social oaf, there is one cultural norm that Brad and I only just recently became aware of. And it involves the social exchange involving food. After a year and a half of consistently refusing the lollipops that Nikolai was offered by various shop keepers... Brad and I realised that the polite thing to do was to accept the candy, and dispose of it later. This policy of offering and accepting, as a simple social interaction, extends to tea. Tea, (typically black tea) must be offered to every guest that comes to your home. Likewise, the polite thing to do when offered tea, is to accept it. If you don't want it, then just use the cup as a hand warmer, and leave the tea behind.

I'm certain that there is a similar social organization around drinking beer in a pub. As of yet Brad hasn't figured out how avoid drinking more than he wants. The social standard is for everyone to continuously buy rounds of pints for the group. However, the last time he went out, most of his group wasn't into having more than a few pints so they all stopped early. The only trick was that they kept buying pints for Brad! He couldn't figure out why they would be buying him pints even when he said he didn't want them, and it was particularly odd since they weren't even drinking themselves! I have theories, that perhaps an Irish reader could help confirm or deny... if you don't want any more pints should you simply leave some beer in the bottom of your pint glass?

And then there's the fact that we constantly sound like a tourist every time we open our mouths. Perhaps some people are able to change their native accents, but Nikolai's preschool teacher has lived in Ireland for more than twenty years, and she still sounds like she just stepped out of a record store in Ann Arbour. OK, admittedly there are certain occasions when a well placed accent doesn't hurt... like when you're walking around the exclusive section of the golf course. However, more often then not strangers will simply treat you like you're just a dumb tourist.

Perhaps the hardest part about being an ex-pat is constantly deciding what is your national identity. If you were to meet us in London, how should we identify ourselves? As Canadians? But we don't keep up on the national politics or news. And our knowledge of the cultural scene is now outdated. Yeah we rocked to Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade... but who the hell is The Rural Alberta Advantage? And we understand the European Debt Crisis in a way that no Canadian could ever understand it. We get X-factor, and River Cottage. Our news is full of Papandreou and Berlusconi. A Canadian may have heard mention of the names, but a European has been listening to constant analysis on their politics for months now. (And a slight political comment... does anyone else find it utterly insane, that the markets seem to be driving "democratic" governments? Most political action in Europe is aimed at "stabilizing the markets" rather than actually serving the people who elected them.)

However, we are definitely NOT Irish. We could live here for twenty years and still be known as "The Canadians". So that is the crux of life as an ex-pat. You are a person who is neither here, nor there. Always lost for lack of belonging, and hoping to bridge the best of both worlds (maple syrup and potato farls).

To counter balance this tirade on our lack of belonging, I've included some pictures of our recent visit to our friend's (and current landlord's) house. Last week was a school holiday, and Nikolai and I spent two nights with Elaine and her brood. It was fun to hold and burp someone else's newborn. (No sleepless nights for us!) The picture above is of Elaine's father hauling a crew of three year olds around the house. The picture below features Nikolai taking a bath with Elaine's two eldest boys (almost 3, and 18 months).

Surfacing

2011-10-31T14:19:00.000Z

This morning I awoke to a glorious stream of sunlight. The air was so clear that it sparkled and I swear the song birds were chorusing for me. The reason for my spectacular morning was that after 5 days of being struck down by the flu, I had woken up fever and pain free! With tender feet I struck out to survey the damage that my decommissioning had wrought.

First... there's my last blog entry, a bit bland, I admit. It was written from the desperation and need to have an entry for last week.

Then there's the house...
A sea of toys scattered on the floor
piles of dirty clothes in every corner
uncorked bottle of wine sitting on the counter (leftover from Brad's thoughtfully prepared soup)
a container of glue spilling out onto the play table
and evidence of spilt tea mixing into the general chaos
the floor, if I could have seen it through the mess, would probably speak of cleaner days.

Nikolai greets me wearing a shirt decorated with the telltale turmeric stains from the Indian dinner Brad had prepared two nights previous, plus some other additions from meals in between. He was excited to see that I was perky after my long time out. His mummy-worry-nightmare from the night before fleeing at the evidence of my arising.

To be fair, Brad had his hands more than full. On top of working, he cooked dinners, prepared breakfasts, lunches, did the shopping, dressed Nikolai in the morning, and got him ready for bed at night. Cleaning up just hadn't really been on his radar, and laundry certainly wouldn't have been anywhere close to the course of navigation. In addition to all that, Brad also did the school run (Irish vernacular for taking kids to and from school. I haven't seen evidence of school buses yet, which means that rush hour is just that much more congested).

I spent the afternoons laying on the couch making sure Nikolai didn't hurt himself, but otherwise inattentive at best, from the fog of my illness. The submarine mother watching her son cut up his toy butterfly into a billion tiny pieces. "Mama, look, it died!" And the glue globing out onto the table was definitely my fault too, as I supervised arts and crafts with my cups of herbal tea spilling on the floor (twice) on the table (once).

As for Nikolai's nightmare? well, it involved someone climbing in through the window and stealing my cellphone. He was only reassured by Brad checking that it was safely stowed away. I'm not really sure how Nikolai came to worry so much about the cellphone. It was his primary concern too, when we were moving, that the cellphone would be left behind at our old house. It's not like I'm a crackberry addict or anything, though I do generally reach my limit of 200 texts a month, I seldom use the phone for anything else!

However, when questioned a little further, it becomes clear that Nikolai equates our cellphone with our friendships, because "if we don't have the cellphone, then our friends won't know where we are." seen through that set of lenses, perhaps the cellphone is more valuable than anything else we own, because it symbolizes our connection to our friends. And on that note, I think I'll go write down some phone numbers... you know... just in case...

The photos are of a sweater that I knit, a hat that I crocheted, and a kid that won't simply smile for the camera.

The beaten path

2011-10-26T21:09:00.000+01:00

Well, I guess it's a sure sign that we've lived here for quite some time now... the fact that in showing Baba and Deda around we were able to give them the depth and breadth of Ireland... the best that can be offered in a short tour... while hardly covering any new ground ourselves!

So the review of their visit will focus on the places that were new to me... as I've already blogged about Newgrange, Trim, Castletown, NUIM and Galway.

We did cover some new ground worthy of a note... primarily en route to somewhere else. The first stop off came as a recommendation from a friend... who was called in desperation after we left Galway for Maynooth at 5pm on Thursday. Was there anywhere good to eat about halfway along that route? (Something affordable was the unspoken request). And that was how we found ourselves at Tyrrellspass Castle. The food was typical of the Irish family restaurant scene, at typical prices, so it suited us just fine. As it turned out, we all ordered the same dish... and in quintessential Irish fashion our veggie lasagna came with a side of garlic bread, roasted potatoes, coleslaw, potato salad and chips (fries). Leading me to wonder what kind of Irish dinner would it be if it didn't come with at least 3 different potato dishes? And the veggie lasagna was authentic Irish style lasagna... using a bechemel as it's base.

So, if you want to eat in a 14th century Tower Castle at affordable prices, or if you really like potatoes then I would recommend Tyrrellspass Castle as a good place to stop along the M6!

The next day we drove through Wicklow. Now this is something I've done before... but thus far it's involved laying in the backseat of the car moaning about carsickness (Wicklow is full of one lane roads twisting around the mountain side). This time we drove REALLY S L O W L Y and I enjoy the journey. We hopped out in the middle of Wicklow National Park to explore the bog mountains, up close and personal. I've included a few photos primarily because it's a pretty amazing sight. Bog is so acidic that very few things are able to grow on it, and it makes for a unique ecosystem. So while the pictures may appear to be showing very dry grass lands, walking on the bog was more akin to walking on a water filled sponge. Slippery and wet. (It was also a wet and windy day, hence the mountains are somewhat obscured by the clouds).

Now... as anyone who has been reading my blog for a while knows... I ADORE AVOCA. And this journey through the winding roads of Wicklow ended up at the birthplace of my favorite shop. The shop is named after the original woolen mills located in the rural town of Avoca. It still has a working mill, weaving away the colourful blankets and scarves that they are famous for. It also has a cafe serving it's signature nutritious and delicious food. (And a bit of excitement on the AVOCA front... our local farmer's market friends has been commissioned to grow organic, heirloom vegetables for AVOCA! A major boon to them for sure, since they currently only earn what they sell at the markets.)

Passport Control

2011-10-19T14:40:00.001+01:00

Baba and Deda are visiting this week. But I'll save my blog about their visit until next week, so I can fill it up with travel tales. So far we've mainly hung around Maynooth as Brad wont be taking time off until the end of this week.

But I have a goal to blog at least once a week, so a blog for this week is well overdue. This one's a quickie to be sure... and focused on my passport application woes.

Now I'd just like to ask... who ever said getting a Canadian passport was easy? If that's the impression you were left with by the media then I hate to burst your bubble. In order to renew my passport I have to jump through more hoops that a circus pony!

To start off with, Canadian passports only last 5 years... mine doesn't expire until May... but that doesn't cover the 6 months required to cover my exciting Christmas plans (no spoilers here, but it doesn't involve us flying back to Canada). So as a citizen abroad I need an Irish Guarantor. A person of importance like a lawyer or doctor who's known me for more than 2 years... the first issue is the More Than 2 Years issue... we've only been in Ireland a total of 22 months now. A bit shy from the 2 year mark.

But any pony worth it's stuff can jump through enough hoops to get over that hurdle. No problem, I can come up with 4 references located in Canada. And I can give my employment history for the past 5 years (spans two jobs and my current homemaker status).

So the second issue is known as the Addresses for the Past 5 Years issue... In the past 5 years I have lived in 5 different homes spanning 3 different cities and 2 continents. I've a good memory, but sue me if I can't remember the postal code for our old house on Salsbury Avenue (plus, layer on the guilt about our inability to provide Nikolai with a stable home... 4 homes in his wee short life is perhaps a bit disruptive?).

The third issue is the Proof of Identity issue. Birth certificate... got it... BC CareCard... done... Driver's License... umm... Driver's License??? umm... nope... Who'd a thought it was possible to reach the ripe old(ish) age of 32 without ever learning to drive a car?! Luckily I have the only other possible substitute... and it doesn't expire until July 2012! Hurrah for my BC ID... now I'm on my way to proving my Canadianess. One horrid photo session and €135 later and I'll be the proud owner of another 5 years of travelling!

The picture is of Nikolai sitting between Baba and Deda at Connelly Station on the way to Howth.

At a gallop

2011-10-10T17:13:00.003+01:00

My life was plodding along in its usual dappled manner of busy-ness, and with all expectations that this would continue for the foreseeable future... when all of a sudden things sped up into light speed mode. What happened was Brad's sudden departure to Ottawa, and Brad's parents' last minute plans.

Okay, to explain, Brad was asked at the last minute to present at a conference in Ottawa. And when I say last minute, I mean last minute. Tickets were booked the Friday before his Tuesday morning departure. What this meant for Brad was the inconvenience of a last minute trip, and a chance to have dinner with some friends we haven't seen in a while.

What this meant for me was that my usually busy life became much busier. As it turns out that last week there was a few of us without a partner in crime, so we decided to have a dinner party exchange. I cooked one giant lasagna and was fed a Moroccan stew and a Thai soup. Anyone with a three year old can imagine the chaos that such a dinner exchange might cause. Any mix with more than 2 kids tends to be hectic and we were travelling at a rate of 4 kids per dinner.

Anyways, my evenings were shot with doing chores, wrestling my three year old to bed and dutifully working with Steffi on one of my more pressing projects. In addition, Nikolai took to waking up at 3 am, deciding it must be morning, turning on all his lights and starting to play. This seemed to last for about 2 hours, at which point he'd realize the sun really wasn't going to come up (apparently my authority on this topic wasn't sufficient) and he'd go to sleep. The end result was that by the time Brad got back on Saturday morning I was as exhausted as he was. He may have had the overnight flight, but I was racking up 4 nights of sleep deprivation.

The last minuteness of his trip had meant that it was slotted into an already busy week. Saturday afternoon we had tickets to the GAA anniversary games at Croke Park. Not the high caliber of playing of the County teams, but some pretty decent beer leagues from the transport authorities. We were too slow to make it for the Camogie game, but we got to watch a Hurling match and a Irish Football match. This requires a small aside on Irish sports. I've previously blogged about the GAA, however, this was my first attendance to an actual game.

Hurling seems to be a very skillful sport. It's a bit like field hockey, but you're allowed to catch the ball (sliotar), and carry it, as long as you occasionally hit it with the stick (hurley). I definitely found it to be one of the more interesting sports that I've seen (I'm about as interested in sports as I am interested is something completely outside my sphere, like, say, the sexual reproductive pattern of mice).

Hurling was interesting because the ball travels far and fast through the air. Then people catch it (about the size and hardness of a baseball) with their bare hands. Then they run with it, all the while balancing it on the end of their hurley.

I found the football match to be less interesting. Probably more like a rugby/basketball cross than something akin to soccer. The general point is to score by getting the ball over the goal. You're allowed to use your hands but you can't just carry the ball more than a few steps without bouncing it or kicking it.

(I realize I'm totally bastardizing these sports... but you can look up the real rules up for yourself. This is just my view as an anthropological observer who isn't terribly interested in sports.)

Sunday we threw a Thanksgiving Party for nine non-Canadian friends... made the Christmas dinner from our Vegetarian Entertaining for Friends cookbook... rich and yummy.

But the gallop doesn't stop there, this week we've got a cake eating party for Brad's birthday, a bus trip to the countryside to visit our friend (and landlord)'s new baby, then the whole affair gallops into the weekend when Brad's parents arrive for a 10 day visit (they booked last minute too... on the same Friday that Brad's tickets to Ottawa were booked). As my projects are all coming into fruition all I can say is PHEW. Here's hoping for a slightly less hectic November!

Nikolai at the train station with Croke Park in the distance.

The National anthem before the football game. I noticed no one in the stands was singing (it's known to be a difficult song). Also the game was played with the Northern Ireland Translink Team... and interestingly enough, only the Irish national anthem, in gaelic, was performed. Though I guess if you play a GAA sport, then you are showing some allegiance to Ireland.

The Vancouver GAA teams

Thanksgiving Dinner

Refrigerator musings

2011-10-02T19:31:00.002+01:00

Earlier this year I came across an art project. It was basically a series of photographs of the inside of peoples fridge and freezers along with a short blurb about the owners of said appliances. If you're interested in exploring those photos for yourself, you can find them here.

It leads to all sorts of hypotheses and thoughts around how the contents of a persons refrigerator can really describe a persons lifestyle, values, personality, etc. What I perhaps found most intriguing was how the two separate refrigerators from a recently divorced couple had nearly identical contents.

Anyways, my blog generally doesn't discuss someone else's artwork. However, at the time we were tickled with the idea of a refrigerator photo and took the following picture of our refrigerator contents:

Not terribly remarkable, and a bit empty (for us) as it was on the far side of our usual farmers' market shop. What those in North America might notice is... what a funny little fridge. And it was a funny little fridge. The freezer portion was of equal size and sat below the fridge portion. It meant that we had WAY more freezer space then we were used to, and considerably less refrigerator space.

The fridges that I had grown up with are called American Refrigerators around here, and can even be used as a descriptor (i.e. it was as large as an American Refrigerator). Now the reason for such small refrigerators is not due to space constraints, rather to the amazing cost of electricity. I blogged about my shock at our first utility bills way back when I first arrived. I've since then learned to live like the local's on a lower energy diet.

As it turns out, keeping stuff cold is THE MOST electrically expensive thing you can do. (Hence why there are power shortages during a heat wave, but you don't find similar brown outs due to -40C weather). In Ireland this translates to a much smaller frozen food isle (only one in our GIANT Tesco's) and fewer chilled foods. For example eggs would be found along side of bags of flour rather than in the dairy case. So homes here often have smaller fridges, and in fact, when we were initially looking for somewhere to live (from our vantage point in Canada) we automatically eliminated everywhere with an under-the-counter fridge.

Irony, irony as our new apartment has one of those tiny fridges. Erase any images you have of a bar fridge, this thing was built for maximum capacity. And surprisingly enough, I find that I have more than enough space for everything I want!

So here are a few of my space saving tricks:
-Many things don't actually need to be refrigerated. We just do it out of habit, and because we have giant monster truck sized refrigerators, for example: eggs, soya sauce, mustard, peanut butter.

-Many veg are happiest stored at warmer temperatures. The trick is to reduce the humidity and keep it somewhat cool. We've co-opted our small balcony for this purpose. Outdoor ventilation is always better because humidity won't get trapped. I learned this from my book on Victorian Farming.

-Leftovers don't need to be refrigerated. Now... this may be an Ireland thing? Not too sure. But I know some of my friends are always leaving their Sunday roast out till they get around to finishing it the next day, and as of yet none of them have died. However, I was told by a Biology PhD that the Irish climate and e.coli don't get along, so maybe it's not much of an issue. Perhaps this is why canning over here is much more relaxed? Regardless, my North American attitude towards germs has yet to allow me to explore this option of food storage. And I'm secretly glad I'm vegetarian, so I haven't yet been invited for leftover meat.

So in summary... I am very glad to have this opportunity to feed my family out of a tiny fridge. Now I know that I can do it! In the future, as energy becomes more expensive, I will be glad to have these skills. However, I do admit that the one reason we may have so much space in our small cubic fridge is because we're pretty much living out of the allotment and the NUIM orchard. Here's today's harvest, and I didn't pick any kale or salad greens as they are the least likely to go all "Day of the Triffids" on us (as you may note, one of the courgettes/zucchini was getting dangerously close to that threshold).

That which doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger

2011-09-27T20:45:00.009+01:00

No votes for or against the name of my blog. So I think we'll simply abridge it to Carton Square. Less specific. And better than Earl's Court (our new location). A bit pompous, Earl's Court. But this blog isn't about our new house. It's about the flu we had this weekend.

It was a draggy sort of flu. An achy all over, throbbing head ache and fall into bed with exhaustion sort of flu. Luckily help was close at hand. Sure, sure, Vitamin D and zinc are the cure alls. But that was so yesterday's news. And echinacea has very little evidence proving its worth besides that of an urban legend likely placed in our minds by over-marketing.

I'm talking about the best cure out there for viruses. Recently proven to have a strong anti-viral effect with the H1N1 virus. Generally found to reduce the length of a viral flu by more than half. So, what is it? Well there's more to the bio of this particular cure... It is also deadly poisonous if not properly prepared. So before I continue, let me share my disclaimer... if you decide to partake in harvesting, preparing and eating this plant MAKE SURE you bloody well follow my instructions because I am not responsible if you poison yourself.

So what is this mysterious cure?

Elderberries. The flowers are edible, and the RIPE berries are edible. The twigs, leave, stems and unripe berries are POISONOUS.
Okay, enough with the exclamations. I could have included a photo of the tree, as Maynooth is covered in elderberry trees. But I'm not about to tell anyone to go out picking random black berries from not properly identified trees. However, if you are a Maynooth local you can find the trees lining the canal, by the train station, along Harbour road, down Straffan road (you get the picture).

After harvesting, the berries need to be washed and taken off the stem. I read something on the web about freezing the berries and having them simply fall off the stalks. This did not work for me. Instead I just sort of rubbed the plant and the berries quite easily fell off.

I then processed my berries into three different virus blasting uses.

1. FREEZE
Frozen berries can be added to pies, crumble, yogurt, applesauce you name it. They aren't sweet, but they aren't that tart either.

2. CORDIAL
I made two bottle of elderberry cordial. This is a concentrated syrup that is meant to be diluted before drinking. I would dilute it 1 part cordial to 8 parts water. You can cut down on the sugar, but that may reduce the shelf life as sugar is a preservative.
Recipe:
Cover your elderberries with water then simmer for 30 minutes. Then strain out the berries and mash them to make sure you get all the elderberry "juice." For every pint (2 cups) of elderberry liquid add 8 oz sugar, 12 whole cloves, 1 inch of grated fresh ginger and 1 Cinnamon stick. Simmer for another 20 minutes. Pour into sterilized bottles (I just pre-rinsed my bottles with boiling water) and use within the next 6 months.
3. COLD BLASTING JELLY
I got this recipe from the BBC program "Grow Your Own Drugs". As an aside, I absolutely loved the program. The guy is a biologist who decides to cook up scientifically proven remedies. My only complaint would be that many of the remedies take a bit of work to prepare.
However, I would have to say that the elderberries worked! Brad, Nikolai and I were all cured after dosing heavily on the our elderberry stash. And my favorite foraging friend (there's an alliteration for you) also cured her family from similar ailments this weekend using our elderberry cordial. We were so happy with the successes that we went out and picked another lot of berries today!

Do the Locomotion

2011-09-19T14:30:00.007+01:00

Well, it's time to reveal my big surprise!! (And only a surprise for those of you who don't talk to me regularly). This past weekend... we MOVED!

But this is not a move back to Canada, it's something more sideways then that.

Maynooth is a town that has a Main street which is literally 2 blocks long. So when we moved from one end of town, to the other... it only took us a total of 1.5 hours (5 car loads of stuff... amazing when you consider that 20 months ago we arrived with only 5 suitcases of stuff!)

-"Why move?" Well that's the big question, one that I asked myself a lot during the process. But let's start with a background on the apartment that we're now renting before delving into the nitty gritty. The apartment belongs to a friend of mine, who was living here up until last week with her husband and their two sons (eldest is Nikolai's friend). But her third child is due in 10 days time, so they'd definitely outgrown this two bedroom apartment.

-"But Emillie, aren't you set to be returning to Canada in December?" Well, that could be true. But Brad's contract here was extended until next August, so until he gets a job we will probably stay put, because an income in Ireland is better than no income in Canada.

-"But why move from a 3 bedroom house, with two courtyards and a big garden to a small two bedroom apartment?"

Well, this is the easy part. Our new apartment is located on top of the only mall in Maynooth. And though it sounds pretty industrial for my sojourn in Ireland, it actually feels more Mediterranean when you're actually up here. The roof of a mall is a warm place to be. And this is a lovely landscaped roof (as seen below). In fact it's so warm that we have 4 windows open at the moment, and I'm quite comfortable sitting still at my computer. However, when we went back to our old place to clean (on this same 15 C day) we left on our outdoor sweaters despite the exertion of cleaning. The temperature difference is that great. So it's no wonder that I was keen to move before embarking on my 3rd Irish winter. And since we're renting from a friend, no lease is required.The other major benefit to our new location is the view. We went from a view of an 18th century cemetery wall...to a view of a 13th century castle (from our kitchen and livingroom windows, the bedrooms overlook the commons). A little aside on the Castle... it is an OPW site, and belonged to the Geraldine clan. We're renting from a Fitzgerald... so definitely a descendant of the original castle owners. What's more, I showed paintings at the Geraldine festival held at the castle in July, and ended up with my photo in the Maynooth newsletter. So far, this has only resulted in one elderly man recognizing me on the street and inviting me in to apraise his photography.And if you were planning on visiting us, never fear, we still have two double beds, two bathrooms and two balconies, so there's plenty of space! However, this move does leave us with a technical question... do I now need to change the name of my blog to 6 Earl's Court?!?

It's a Rather Blustery Day

2011-09-13T20:53:00.004+01:00

Three days of windswept hair blowing in my face, three nights of howling wind cursing against my window pane has left me in a poetic mood.

As the hurricanes batter the coastal Americas
they are beaten back by the solidity of land into the ocean currents
only to be swept up along the Gulf Stream
to paw at my door.

Merely a kitten of their former lioness. The 130 km/hour winds sweep across the landscape, causing clouds and weather to rush past as though I were looking through a time lapse camera. Trees and electrical lines mostly hold fast, against this yearly and expected onslaught.

It is my bean trellis, only just born in June, that topples against the might of the endless, endless wind. The beans themselves are older and wiser. They hold fast, unperturbed as I and a fellow gardener struggle to lash them tight again.

As we work on his trellis, he is reminded of his childhood
a childhood dream disturbed
a night time waking to catch fast the boat
before it blows out to sea

Pulling fast the knots in a garden frame requires the same exertion of force to a retired professor as the moorings of a brawling boat to a child.

Endless, endless... the wind rushes through... to blow... my thoughts... to sea...

Catching up on some sights

2011-09-05T20:58:00.014+01:00

Claire came to visit us this weekend. And it was perfect, primarily because we just saw her two weeks ago in London. The perfection came from our ability to chat and digest. We'd moved on from the "it poured while we were in Amsterdam", and the "Nikolai's SOOO cute" to the more personal side of things. But I don't blog about truly personal things... that would be creepy.

However, I do blog about sight seeing. Though I have been rather delinquent of late on this particular task. I have Dublin sights that we went to on the August 1st long weekend that I still haven't blogged about... because... it's just that wee bit boring to blog about the usual tourist traps. However, I strive to be a conscientious person... and though I have a more exciting story waiting in the wings, it will have to wait a few more weeks while I discuss a few more Dublin sights.

LIFFEY RIVER BOAT TOUR
And this tour is probably the cause of my ennui. Because the tour itself was rather boring. As anyone who's been in Dublin knows... the Liffey is not the highest of rivers... (and is rather more of a slight murky trickle whenever the tides' out). So the canal boat was not able to make it any further upriver than the Ha' Penny bridge. Which means that the rest of the tour featured only about 10 sights... including the bankrupt docklands and associated abandoned construction sites. Notice the lack of cranes at the AIB building site pictured below. Thrilling.

What was exciting was the fact that the boat did not have a toilet... and we'd just come from lunch where Nikolai had drunk a large glass of water... To preserve his personal Internet based privacy, I am not going to tell you what we did about this situation... but it was definitely harrowing.CHRISTCHURCH CATHEDRAL

As you can imagine, Christchurch is a large cathedral, much like most cathedrals... large, glamorous, yet slightly Gothic in nature. We also got to tour the crypt... which sounds a lot more exciting than it was. They had a few interesting artifacts in glass cases, a cafe and gift shop. The only cryptness about it was the smell (ugh) and a petrified cat and mouse who'd been caught behind the organ a long time ago (can you imagine the repair man who had to make that discovery!)

We also got to see Strongbow's coffin... so that was pretty cool.DALKEY CASTLE
This was the only sight that we actually did with Claire (I really have been neglective!) But the tour was by far the best of the bunch, and is definitely recommended if you're into history, and you don't have small children with you... unfortunately we did have a small child with us. However, he seems to have come out unscathed.

Dalkey Castle isn't really a castle as much as a fortified import-export warehouse. The only people who would have lived there are the archers who protected the castle from raiders. As such, the castle is a small and modest place. But they've turned it into an interpretive centre on the area, and for €6 you get an interactive tour of the castle provided by a series of historical characters. The tour is currently about the Tudor period, and focuses on the lesser known and slightly gruesome side of things.

The tour guides remain in character the entire time and assume a lot of general knowledge of the period. Needless to say, they tried to draft Nikolai into their services as an apprentice archer several times.

FARMLEIGH AND ASHTOWN CASTLE
When selecting pictures for this blog, I realized that I never blogged about our bicycle tour of Pheonix park! First we went to Farmleigh for a tour of the stately guest house. Originally a Guinness family rural cottage, it now is a hotel for visiting dignitaries. Basically everyone has stayed there... including most recently Obama and Queen Elizabeth (though not at the same time). The tour was nice, but I'd recommend the Aras over Farmleigh.

We then went on to Ashtown Castle, primarily because we knew they served up a rather nice lunch. On this trip, the Victorian walled garden was open for visitors. Officially still under renovation, we were very much in awe of the neat rows of vegetables... but as Brad pointed out, it takes a team of gardeners to maintain a walled garden. The best part is that all the produce grown is used in the cafe! Yummy.

all in all it's just another brick in the wall

2011-09-01T14:06:00.002+01:00

Nikolai started his first day at preschool today. He loved it. I loved it. We all loved it. And I knew he would. Nikolai LOVES playing with other children. His social side NEVER wears out. And I am perfectly happy staying home and entertaining myself. Goodness, I am simply the Queen of projects.

So no tearful goodbyes (or even bothering to say good bye as Nikolai ran into the class room and made a beeline for the toy train set that he had seen when he first did his tour in March).

But I do have a bit of a quiver of doubt in my core. In Ireland, preschool is free for one year. And this is a Montessori-based educational preschool. Part of me wonders at putting my innocent one into something so mould making.

Nikolai happily rides a pink bike. He loves his toy kitchen, his baby dolls. He spent most of this week wearing one of Layla's pink hair clips around. He eats EVERYTHING I feed him, and was excited that his first day lunch was humus with carrot and pepper sticks and tapioca cheese buns. He doesn't know what a gun is, is barely interested in cars (we groomed him into a train and bike fascination). He could tell you the name of a few Superheros from his friends at the playground, but he wouldn't actually be able to tell you what a Superhero is.

Ah, la innocent. He's never heard of McDonald's, Disney, or video games. He shares everything to a fault. And at this moment he is mine.

But at preschool the kid next to him might bug him because the colour pink is among his favorite colours, or say that red peppers (Nikolai's favorite) are disgusting. He will probably learn about fighting, and the fact that cars are cool (though he tends to get sick every time he rides in one, so that might be a hard push).

By the end of this year, Nikolai will know the alphabet, the days of the week, how to write his name... but he will also have learned about gender stereotyping, peer pressure and the difference between being included in a group and being excluded by a group. And all I can do is hope that I've taught him enough to know that he is lovable for his skills, his opinions, and his flaws, no matter what anyone else has to say about it.

The picture above is Nikolai setting out for school. Below is after school (3 hour days only) eating beans from our allotment.

TAPIOCA CHEESE BUNS (Pan de Yucca)

Mix together 1/2 cup of tapioca flour (tapioca starch), 1/2 tsp baking powder, 1 cup of grated cheese. Then mix in 1 egg to form a dough. Split into 4 balls and bake at 180 C (350F) for 15-20 min until nicely toasted. Eat warm... or at least within the day as it goes stale rather quickly.

Leafy greens from the beyond

2011-08-30T19:33:00.007+01:00

My friend Ashling returned from Galway with a bag of dulse (dillisk) for me. Now, I am actually quite familiar with seaweed, as it's a fairly familiar product on BC's west coast. Nori, kombu, seaweed salad, macro kelp...

but... my seaweed was always... well... packaged, to say the least. You know, dried out, flattened, cleaned and prepared for my limited seaweed cooking. But this bag of seaweed was a bit more "freshly harvested" than I'm used to... and I wasn't really sure what I needed to do to make it look a little more like something packaged (beyond the obvious removal of barnacles).

So I called up Ashling and asked her "what do you do with dulse?" And her reply was confident and perhaps a bit offhanded, like I'd simply asked her what I was supposed to do with a turnip. Apparently I add it to winter soups and stews. And some people enjoy deep frying it.

Back to assess the bag, now a more permanent fixture in my larder. Deep purple, leafy with some hard stringy bits, and a distinct sheen of salt and sand.

So I asked Rosie at the farmer's market... "Winter soups and stews."

....Ok, but do I have to clean it? "Well, if Ashling got it from Galway Bay then you should probably clean it".

But the answers to my questioning came from another of Rosie's regulars. An older woman who had perhaps seen a bit of famine in her time, as she was busy telling Rosie about how eating the skin of an orange peel was very nutritious, and a good source of pectin for gelling. Her general recommendation was to puree the whole orange up in a blender, and the resulting goo would be quite a thick drink (a bit bitter, but at least you'd get all the nutrition out of the fruit).

And here is her advice on how to prepare seaweed:

First, thoroughly wash the seaweed, otherwise it would be excessively salty (though, apparently, eating dried, unwashed, salty dulse is a tasty snack too).

Then you can use it right away, sauteed up like any other leafy green. Otherwise you need to dry it out so that it can be added to soups/stews for the next 6 months. Below is my picture of before drying out.And after drying out.
I also used some of the freshly washed stuff in a side dish with kale. It was so tasty that Nikolai easily cleaned it off his plate, Brad's requesting an encore, and I failed to remember to take the picture until I'd already eaten most of it.

DULSE AND KALE SAUTE
Saute, in oil, about 6 cups of chopped up kale until it is wilted. Then add two cloves of diced garlic, 1/2 a cup of fresh dulse (or soaked dried dulse) and saute till kale starts to become crispy and garlic is cooked. Then add tamari (or soya sauce) to taste (about 1 tbsp). Top with toasted sesame seeds or sunflower seeds.

FYI: the salt should be provided by the tamari sauce, not the seaweed. Also, you could easily add any vegetables that suit you to this basic mix, but I'd say at least one green is required to keep the dulse from looking too alien.

Oranges and Lemons Say the Bells of St. Clement's

2011-08-25T12:49:00.008+01:00

For this trip to London we decided to focus on child friendly activities. While this may appear to have been guided by our doting parent side, it's primarily because we figured they'd be less popular than the typical run of London museums. Claire had long since given up going to museums because of the hour long waits just to get in and hang out with all the other tourists. Despite our official status as "Tourists" we are also decidedly anti-tourist (the paradox is obvious... but I don't care... because other tourists simply get in the way of sight seeing!).

So we limited ourselves to four "sights" with Nikolai in mind (in order of Nikolai's preference):

1. Princess Diana's Memorial Playground in Hyde Park: On a sunny Friday afternoon, we only had to wait 20 minutes to get in. It is a free, public playground. But due to popularity, they've had to exert some crowd control. Regardless, the playground is definitely worth the wait! Nikolai spent nearly his whole time playing on the giant tall ship (as seen below -Nikolai's wearing his green Ireland jersey). He also dabbled a bit in the sandy-water pool. We didn't really explore too deeply into the playground, as we couldn't spend the 4 hours it would have taken for Nikolai to have played with all of the interesting equipment. We poked our nose around the "lost-boys" tree fort playground on stilts, and the teepees (wigwams); but I'm sure that we missed seeing many other interesting activities.2. V&A Museum of Childhood: This is basically a museum for toys. And most of the toys are behind glass. However, they do have things for children to play with in most quadrants of the museum. While Nikolai enjoyed the sandpit, play kitchen and dress up clothes; us adults enjoyed looking at the Victorian era toys, and remembering the toys of our childhood (I swear, Fisher price toys used to be much better quality! They had all my favorites!)3. Harrods: For anyone who doesn't know it... Harrods is the poshest department store around. We took Nikolai up to their toy section and let him loose in the play area. Of note, they carry a good selection of high end toys. Also worthy of noting... prices were about 1/3 more than Smyths... so we did not buy anything at Harrods. Regardless, they certainly didn't seem to be hurting for lack of business! They also have a Children's Cafe, where you can get a three course kids meal for £18.

4. Victoria and Albert Museum: We went there on our last trip too, but this museum was en route to Harrods, and with a sleeping Nikolai, we decided to explore another area of this vast museum. Nikolai woke up as we were leaving and insisted on seeing the section on musical instruments. Unfortunately they don't have a section on instruments, but he was satisfied with a visit to the piano in the Theatre section.

Lastly, below is a picture of Claire's hood. She lives in one of these tall and narrow row houses with 5 other roommates. It's a bit squashed, so we "house-sat" for a friend of hers who live just a short distance away. And while we provided very good care of her pet cat, I think that the favor really benefited us the most, as we had her lovely apartment all to ourselves for the weekend!

Among these hallowed walls

2011-08-22T21:09:00.007+01:00

Given Brad's academic bent... and our feeling that we should see a wee bit more of the UK... we decided a trip to Oxford (en route to Auntie Claire's, of course) was in order.

I loved Oxford... but I would have probably loved it more if there had been more students and fewer tourists. Also, it poured cats and dogs all of our main day in Oxford, which really made us run to the museums. And run we did. The morning was spent in the Ashmolean Museum, where we saw an overwhelming amount of stuff. Mainly because Nikolai decided to tear through all the exhibits at a breakneck speed. ("Look at the big statue!", Look at the money!", Look at the blue rocks!", "Let's go upstairs to the very top!".) I think he was perhaps expressing his distaste for having spent the whole of the previous day in transit.
From there we went to the Museum of Oxford, which I would not recommend for adults... as it's pretty small, rundown and very unimpressive compared to everything else in Oxford. However, if you have kids, then I highly recommend it! They designed all the exhibits in the museum to be kid interactive (probably because they don't actually have any actual artifacts to display). We spent a good long time in the Alice in Wonderland room, where Nikolai served many cups of tea.

Next we went through my favorite museum of the lot. And with Nikolai asleep on Brad's back we were able to take our time; so perhaps that was why it was my favorite! Voila, some photos from the History of Science Museum. The first pic is of some astrolabes. I'm not sure what they do... but the museum is full of them, from all parts of the globe, and all different styles.And below is the "radio" that Marconi used for his demonstration in the British Post Office.In the late afternoon, and all of the next morning (before heading to London) the weather was significantly improved. So we managed to actually tour around Oxford. Nearly all of central Oxford is comprised of beautiful old buildings, like the one below.Here's a picture of Christ Church College, which was the start of the University, as a monastery in 1529.And naturally, we had a walk down the famous canal, and a picnic next to the Thames.Next up... London!

Going to London the old-fashioned way

2011-08-22T14:11:00.009+01:00

For our latest trip to visit Claire in London, we decided to go the slow way. There is something called the SailRail pass, which allows you to take the ferry from Dublin to Holyhead, and then to anywhere in the UK (via train) for about €40 (depending on end destination, and which ferry you choose to take). We took the slow ferry and went to Oxford. After spending a few nights in Oxford, we then took a cheap pre-booked train to London. The whole thing... all inclusive, cost us about €90 for our family.

It was quite the adventure for poor Nikolai, and would have been faster if we'd just gone directly to London (there's a direct train from Holyhead to London which only takes 4 hours). Anyways, here's a quick photoblog to document our journey.

First we had to take the bus from Maynooth to Dublin... leaving Maynooth at 6:05am.Then we caught the free StenaLine bus from central Dublin (Westmoreland Row) to Dublin Port. (Nikolai likes to ride on the top of the bus.)The ferry ride took 3 hours and was quite nice. Very similar in size to a BC ferry, but clearly it was repurposed from an overnight ferry as it had many sleeping rooms. They had a cafe, restaurant, "exclusive lounge", bar (not open in the morning), movie theater (tickets were €8), shop, and a children's area. Our only complaint would be that the children's area was just a TV room, with no toys. They did have someone dress up as Curious George and hand out balloons... But I would have preferred the small playground, like those found on BC ferries, to the continuous loop of Curious George videos.To get on and off the ferry, foot passengers had to ride on a bus.After a quick lunch break in Holyhead, we started our train journey. From Holyhead to Chester via Arriva Trains Wales.From Chester to Crewe with the posh Virgin Trains. From Crewe to Birmingham with London Midland. Then from Birmingham to Oxford with Cross Country. (That train was particularly packed, hence the extended arm photo.)We then took the bus from Central Oxford to our B&B located 2 miles out of town... we did this after dinner, and Nikolai was quite done for the day. All in all it took just about 12 hours to get from home to our destination. It would have been much quicker if Oxford wasn't so far off the mainline to London. Regardless, it was a grand way to travel, and I think we'd do it again, since it was much "easier" than flying. (Though it took more time, it was much less hassle).After spending two nights in Oxford, we then took a train into London Paddington.From then on our travel involved two things... walking about the city with Nikolai on our back. And taking the infamous London Tube. (Yes, that's Auntie Claire sitting next to Nikolai. Recognize that worried look from Nikolai's baby face days? He found the noise, heat and bustle of the tube to be a wee bit stressful).
More stories to come!

Eden

2011-08-14T13:26:00.005+01:00

Edenderry is a small town just down the road. It is much like many other rural towns that dot the countryside of Ireland. (In fact there are a total of four Edenderrys in Ireland, but the one I am referring to is in Offaly). It is also the hometown of a charismatic member of Brad's cycling crew, Kieran. And he is certainly full of well-spun tales. (Though his particular speciality is around local history... mainly linking death to landmarks that they cycle past -hence our knowledge of Guinness' grave).

The latest adventure that Kieran spun us off on, lead us to Edenderry. Specifically to see a play written by an Edenderry native, about Edenderry... aptly name Eden. Eden, the play, has been running for 10 years, travelling around the world. It also was turned into a movie. However, this time, the play was set to be shown for the first time ever, actually in Edenderry. More specifically in Larkin's pub in Edenderry (as Kieran suggested, there wouldn't be any other suitable venue in town for such an event.)

The only trick was... the locals didn't really embrace seeing a play that basically showed a not-too-flattering side of Edenderry. As such the play was cut short by a week. Regardless, we managed to go and see it before it closed, and the house seemed fully packed for a Thursday night. So perhaps the locals were collectively procrastinating. Who knows?

In general, the play is about a long married couple, and their not very functional relationship. Basically, the husband is a druken lout; and the play is both funny and sad.

But it does deserve blog recognition, not because it's going to be touring Vancouver anytime soon, but because the language was so thick and colourful that I really had a hard time understanding half of what was said. Luckily we coaxed Ashling and Pat into attending with us, and thus had interpreters.

Here are a few of the expressions that are unlikely to enter my vocab anytime soon... but you are more than welcome to try them out for yourself if you're looking to add a little rural midlands colour to your dialogue:
- Brown bread: dead, "Did you know if he was brown bread?"
-Pure Mule: is a negative (or positive) description of events (depends on intonation), "He was pure mule".
-Fierce: very, "I was fierce hungry".

Regardless, I had to concentrate a wee bit hard on the dialogue to be able to figure out all the slang. Youtube has an ad for the play being shown in Waterford here. But I warn you it's not very PC, or kid-friendly. And thus I learned something else about Ireland...

As the content of the play was all about sex, and a wee bit rude, Ashling was pretty certain that her parents would have been utterly appalled as they are "Pioneers". Now in my mind, pioneers are the Europeans who came to settle in Canada during the early colonization. I had many school trips to Black Creek Pioneer Village, so I'm pretty confident in my understanding of what a Pioneer is... and Ashling's parents don't exactly fit the description. But to clear up the confusion I have another vocab lesson:
-Pioneer: a person who belongs to a Total Abstinance Association

It's basically an Irish Catholic thing... but the interesting part is that they ALWAYS wear a special pin to indicate how long they've been abstinant for, and also so that people know not to ask them if they would like a drink.

But the best part about the play came about a week after seeing it... when the director sent me a text thanking me for coming to the show! (I'd booked tickets by calling the director on my cellphone). Such a text was a bit surprising... but definitely gave me a warm fuzzy for supporting such a small town show.

The picture below is of the golf course on Carton. Gorgeous, and exclusive (officially only golfer's are allowed). The picture above is with Nikolai's friend Layla on a berry hunt.

Enough is plenty

2011-08-08T12:46:00.006+01:00

Enough is plenty. This is the title of a book, written by a Sociology prof at NUIM (who is also an occasional member of Transition Town Maynooth).

It is also the topic of today's blog as I have recently plunged down the path of dark thoughts and dark spaces.

Clearly, the King Louis the XVI moment is upon us. And I am silly for not having recognized this earlier. The world economy is in decline. The end of plenty is upon us. And few of us are willing to accept our, now smaller, piece of the pie. As an older person, retired, or close to retirement, it is the diminished returns of your savings that is affected. For younger people, and certainly for the hefty majority of the planet whom are amongst the lower socioeconomic strata, the diminished global economy affects the ability to gain employment and earn enough to ever actually achieve a life of stable financial means.

Thus leading to the riots in London, the Greek protests, the Middle East uprisings, along with the rise of right-wing conservatism (like the Tea Party). These groups may seem to have completely different political motivations, yet the root of their convictions stems from the same heart... trying to gain (maintain) a certain share of the pie in world of diminishing returns.

So now lets descend down a path of blame... certainly the financial market and regulators; the lenders and the buyers; and all the people whom can be painted with the brush of the greedy. Governments, too, are responsible. For they collectively turned a blind eye to all those advisers ringing warning bells of increased government debt and an overheated market place. Research into the topic clearly indicates that the Irish Government was certainly well warned in advance. Surely the Greek government knew of their debt issues. And I really doubt Bush Jr. and his advisers could proclaim innocence. Et cetera, et cetera.

Was it greed, or an unwillingness to take responsibility for bursting the bubble that allowed this situation to steadily inflate? Likely a bit of both. But I can hardly claim superiority, from my arm chair vantage point, for I too am more than willing to take something for nothing. For all that we may complain of China's rising super power, and lack of integrity (in terms of copyright, and labour laws, etc.) we are more than willing to benefit from the goods produced by those "loose morals". As a parent, I am all too aware of the cost of toys produced in a "developing economy" versus those produced locally. It is simply the "survival of the fittest" side of our animal nature that leads to this want for more than our share. So while it's easy for me to condemn David Drumm, it's also easy for me to behave in a similar manner by simply distancing myself from any actual responsibility.

Does such a dark place of human nature have a bright light? Yet there is a heart of hope in this bleak blog. To be human is to struggle towards kindness, community and thoughtful understanding.

Enough is Plenty. The book itself is rather dry, but the concept is simple and wholehearted. Perhaps if we all started actually considering, WHAT IS ENOUGH? and HOW SHALL WE LIVE? then we can move on from a place of anger to a place of ensuring that there is enough for everyone and everything. Let us truly join the global village, for "united we stand, divided we fall".

The picture is of Brad and Nikolai waiting for the commuter train to arrive in Maynooth.

"The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"

2011-08-05T14:14:00.005+01:00

All I can say is... that my arm chair predictions for Europe were accurate... except that the sky fell in about two weeks earlier than expected. And if the meltdown of the global economy scares you... well, how about some nice scenic pictures to take your mind off things? (As per, Uncle Roger's request, here are some pictures of " panoramic Irish countryside, particularly ocean shots....and little stone houses..."). The following are all from our trip to Cork and Kerry this spring.

A wee bit of the Irish Luck

2011-08-02T14:56:00.009+01:00

OK...

I'll finally deal with the elephant in the room...

The question that EVERYONE is constantly asking...

Our family want to know "when will you be coming back to Vancouver?"

Our friends over here want to know "will you be staying much longer?"

And the answer is "shove off!" Not very polite... but seriously... if I knew the answer we'd either be packing boxes to move back to Vancouver, or shipping the contents of our storage locker over to Ireland.

The answer will be solved when Brad gets offered the nebulous "position". Personally I'd like a pie chart of probabilities or a rough schematic of time lines... but life doesn't work that way!

Anyways, the topic is now a taboo one around the house, as it's just too stressful to consider. So when I found a four leaf clover in a local park, I felt obliged to pick it and take it home to Brad... then I found another one... so perhaps luck is coming our way.

Which caused me to delve into a more ephemeral question of: What is luck? And how would you know whether you had good luck?

Is winning the lottery "lucky"? Maybe, because you'd be rich. Maybe not, because everyone would be at you for money all the time and your personal life would go to pot.

Is getting a job in Vancouver lucky? Is getting a job in Ireland lucky? What about moving to a third location (most likely scenario in my histogram)?

And what I decided is that, in the world today, you are lucky if you have enough food, clean water, and not in a war zone. What more do we actually need? So I am lucky! I can walk Nikolai down to the playground, knowing that dinner is just a short grocery shop away and we can flush clean water down the toilet.

Cultivating Bacteria

2011-07-25T14:24:00.012+01:00

Today's episode is essentially a food blog. Since we're on our pro-bacteria diet, I've worked on home-growing some bacteria; and wanted to document my efforts for future reference.

YOGURT est. prep time: 1.5 hours; 1 Lt of milk gives you 1 Lt of yogurt

Yogurt was probably the hardest fought battle of my efforts. I don't actually have any special yogurt tools, and the only thermometer that I could find in Maynooth was a cheap meat thermometer at Tesco's. Thus I really had to "guesstimate" the temperature (didn't even register below 130 F). This worked out for me the first time... but failed on my two subsequent attempts. I then purchased a generalized cooking thermometer which provided for the perfect yogurt making temperature.

1. Warm 6 Tbsp of yogurt up to room temperature.
2. Heat 1 liter of milk up to 180F. Stirring occasionally to prevent scalding (takes about 15 min).
3. Cool the milk down to 106F - 110F (~45 min).
4. Stir yogurt into milk till completely mixed.
5. Pour yogurt into glass jars, and maintain at approximately 105F for 3-4 hours.
6. Yogurt is set when it reaches thick custard (or vanilla pudding) like consistency.
7. If you don't have yogurt within 8 hours, then you either had a poor culture to start with (Glenisk worked well), or you added the culture when the milk was too hot, or the milk cooled down too quickly.

Clearly we don't have an easy way to keep the yogurt warm, so I simply wrapped my jar up in an old cashmere sweater, and left in it the not-so-hot press (hot water tank closet).

You can see how thick it gets when fully set in the picture below.So would I do this again? Well... given that yogurt is pretty cheap in Ireland, and it took a lot of time and energy, we wouldn't probably do this again. Brad really didn't like the fact that the yogurt was so runny. It didn't set as thick as commercial brands because we didn't use guar gum, pectin, gelatin, milk powder, etc. to thicken our yogurt. It was nice for granola, but not really like a solid yogurt.

YOGURT CHEESE est prep time: 2 min; 2 cups of yogurt gives you 1 cup of cheese

1. Pour yogurt into a strainer that has been lined with cheesecloth (I haven't found cheesecloth in Ireland, but my parents sent me some. You could use a really clean tea towel if you had to).
2. Leave in the fridge for more than 6 hours, or overnight.
3. Salt and season to taste!
So would I do this again? Yes! It makes a nice cream cheese, and you can season it however you would like. I would recommend sun dried tomato, basil and olive oil as our favorite!

COTTAGE CHEESE est. cook time: 1 hour; 4 Lt milk results in 1 Lt of cottage cheese

To start off with... there are tons of recipes for cottage cheese on the web that simply have you clabber your cheese with vinegar or citric acid. Have you ever looked at the ingredients on a tub of cottage cheese? Lactic Acid (bacteria). That's what clabbers cottage cheese. If you use vinegar or lemon juice, then you are actually making paneer and/or ricotta. These are not bacteria friendly, and they are rather flavorless cheeses anyways.

1. Pour a gallon (4 liters) of non-fat (skim) milk into a large pot with a 1/2 cup of good quality buttermilk (Avonmore didn't work, but Cuinneog did). FYI, using a higher fat milk is a waste, as the fat will just be drained off with the whey.
2. Leave on counter for 12 to 14 hour, until clabbered (curdled into a big mass).
3. Cut into curds by slicing on the diagonal in the pot. I cut into 1.5" cubes, but these were too large and fell apart when I stirred in the water.
4. Heat 8 cups of water to 100 F, then add to curds.
5. Keep at 100F by putting it on the stove in a basin of water. Gently stir every 5 minutes.
6. You're finished when the curds have separated from the whey (curds will be firm and sink to the bottom of the pot, which takes about 30 min to 1 hour).
7. Pour into a strainer lined with cheese cloth. Rinse with cold water (unless you want a more sour cheese) and allow to drain until most of the whey is gone, but not until the cheese is dry.
8. You now have 3 options for finishing. A) leave as a dry curd cottage cheese, and you're done. B) Turn it into snack-style cottage cheese by adding heavy cream and salt (to taste). C) Add salt (1-2 tsp) and continue to press moisture out of the cheese until it is a firm slicing cheese.
So would I do this again? Definitely. Organic cottage cheese is not even available in Canada, and in Ireland cottage cheese crazy expensive! This made a ton of it, it was so easy and so good. No wonder it was the staple cheese for every cottage dwelling peasant!

What does one do with a liter of cottage cheese? Well it melted nicely on our pizza, made a lovely lasagna, and a tasty lunchtime snack; but in the end I used most of it up making a traditional Eastern European comfort food.

PIEROGIES (VARENIKI) est. prep time: 45 min

Dough:
2 1/2 cups whole wheat or spelt flour (normally white flour is used... but we're on an anti-white flour diet)
1/2 tsp sea salt
1 egg
2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup water (or enough to make a dough)

1. Mix all the dough ingredients together. Kneed for 5-10 minutes until you get a nice smooth dough. Cover with a damp towel, and let rest while you prepare your fillings.

Fillings:
Basically what ever you have on hand can fill a dumpling (and a thousand Doukhobor babushka's roll in their graves). Traditional flavors include: mashed potato and onion (today I used leftover baked potato mashed up with sauteed onion)
-cottage cheese (seasoned with salt)

Other fillings I've also tried:
-Mashed root veg (sweet potato, turnip, sweede (rutabaga), etc. Seasoned of course).
-Sauteed mushroom and onion
-Mashed fruit with sugar

For someone with more leanings towards the traditional, perhaps this website might help.
2. Roll out your dough, cut out circles, fill dumplings, making sure that the filling is well sealed up.
3. Drop dumplings into a pot of boiling water (careful not to crowd them), and let them boil until they float.
4. Scoop them out with a slotted spoon (or kitchen tongs, since I haven't got a slotted spoon) and drain in a strainer.
5. Drizzle with oil (or the less healthy but more traditional option, butter) to prevent sticking. They can be frozen, or stored at this point until it's time to eat them.
6. Heat up in the oven, or fry on the stove. Serve with more butter and sour cream!

While we wait for the world to turn

2011-07-21T13:53:00.003+01:00

Unfortunately I feel like I have to address the continuous economic doom and gloom that greets me every morning when the radio turns on. (Given that this blog is about Ireland, and the Irish economy is certainly a factor in the doom and gloom). Europe is on the brink of collapse and the USA needs to raise the debt limit, and I am left wondering when...

When will this end? Because right now, it seems like this crisis will never end. Clearly the EU has three choices:

1. Continue on the current path of not really doing anything (bailout, rules and conditions, etc.). This is probably the most likely outcome of today's summit, as it's the easiest outcome. Though arguably, not a very effective solution as it hasn't really been working.

2. Kick Greece (and potentially Ireland, Portugal, and the rest of them) out of the monetary union. Basically save the EU currency at the expense of a few countries. (Hey, Greece clearly lied about their financial situation to get into the EU, so they could definitely be kicked out.) The only trick is that Germany and France are most exposed to Greece's debt. So a failed Greece would probably cause the EU to suffer anyways.

3. Create stronger ties linking the EU financially and politically. Basically turn the EU into something more like the USA. This would strengthen the currency, and leave the failing countries less exposed to their own debt issues as they are absorbed by the whole EU. A fairly Utopian idea... but... it would be hard to get buy in from everyone. Each EU country is quite proud of their individuality and sovereignty, which would probably be infringed upon by a more centralized currency. (The Greeks would be mad at Brussels for making them pay taxes. The Germans would be annoyed at having their taxes go to pay for health care in Ireland and Spain. The French would just be mad at everyone for not being French. And the Brits probably wouldn't want to play.)

So I predict Option #1 will be the outcome from the meetings this week... and the meetings next month... and the fall round of meetings... etc. etc. until people just get so angry with the whole system that we have a bit of a Louis XVI moment. I frankly don't want a Louis XVI moment... but unless someone's willing to brave the challenges of actually RESTRUCTURING the current economic system, I don't really see any way out of it.

And in my crystal ball for the US debt issues... well... EVERYONE else on the planet pays sales tax and has higher income tax rates (please note the link is from 2005, so it's definitely not accurate in regards to Ireland!)... so I predict that tax rates will probably start to look more like those in the rest of the western economies.

Aren't blogs great? I can shoot my mouth off about a ton of really complicated issues that I don't have a good grasp of (my MSc in Neuroscience does not make me an economist) and feel like I've actually said something meaningful! I look forward (?) to hearing the outcome of today's meetings during my 10 minutes of business news tomorrow morning.

And on that "happy" note, I'll leave you with a glass of garden fresh iced tea!

Here, There and Everywhere

2011-07-18T13:38:00.014+01:00

Life has not all been centred around our diet the past few weeks... we have maintained our campaign of touristing all around Ireland!

WATERFORD
This was a work based trip for Brad, with Nikolai and I just tagging along. Waterford seems just like any other typical Irish city, but truthfully it's hard for us to judge... because it poured the ENTIRE time we were there!

Everything we were told to do in Waterford basically involved leaving the city to go to the beach, an island, or something. I think Waterford is well renowned for it's bucolic scenery outside the city. But under an absolute onslaught of rain, I didn't really feel up for a trek to the beach. (It was also our 3rd and 4th days on the diet, so my energy was low, and my cravings were great.) Instead we did the ONLY indoor tourist sites available to us at the time (the main Waterford Museum of Treasures was in the process of being relocated and was closed), Reginald's Tower and Waterford Crystal. Reginald's tower has a tremendous history, currently houses Viking artifacts from around Waterford, and probably has a good view from the top (though it was too rainy for us to see). As with all OPW sites, it was very well done and low cost (€1, but free for us with our OPW cards).

Now a few of our Irish friends, told us that "they thought Waterford Crystal had gone out of business"? Which it had. But it has since reopened with new owners, and is running a very lucrative tour operation. It reminded me a lot of the Guinness Brewery tour... in that it was fairly highly priced (€12 each) and there was a lot of flash presentations. However, unlike Guinness, you actually get to tour a factory. It was pretty neat to see how crystal is blown and moulded, finished, etched and pieced together.

Personally I think crystal is not really to my taste (where's the colour?). But perhaps that's just because I could barely afford to buy a single wine glass, let alone the globe featured in the picture below (notice the price point on that one is a mere €2,300).
DALKEY
A day trip to Dalkey was our next adventure. The weather was much nicer, but the trip was also plagued by thwarted expectations. Dalkey, itself, is a cute little area, full of boutique shopping. We ran into a small artisan market which actually sold some food we could eat on our restricted diet (probiotic yogurt cheese!). We cruised the harbour and shared our lunch with some sailors' dogs.

But the real goal of our trip was to do the Dalkey Castle Tour. This tour features a series of vignettes in each of the rooms highlighting a particular era in the Castle's history (currently the Tutors). At only €6 each, it seems like a great day out! And it probably is a great day out... But on that faithful Saturday, all the tours were filled up by English Language Students.

(The bane of Dublin in the summer is the hoards of tourist which clog up most of the sidewalks and apparently the tourist locations. How I miss my free and easy Dublin of the winter months. Of note, Claire is complaining of the same thing in London. She had to give up on a museum trip last Saturday after seeing the insanely long line up.)
STRAFFAN BUTTERFLY FARM
A quick cycle away from our house is the Straffan Butterfly Farm. So naturally, when the weather proved too fierce for an outing into Dublin we decided to gear up for this indoor activity! Yes we got poured on... but we also got to hang out in a tropical flower paradise surrounded by butterflies and moths. They also have a small "educational" room, full of butterfly pictures and various tropical bugs in tanks. Despite his fear of spiders around the house, Nikolai had no problem starring down a giant tarantula.

Check out the size of the moth below. Apparently it is a Atlas silk moth, and has no mouth parts, so it does not feed. Needless to say it only lives for a few days. In the picture above, I'm wearing a bright, Irish style dress that I am borrowing from my friend, Elaine. She is once again too pregnant to wear all her lovely clothes. Clearly the butterflies were attracted to the bright colours!

Diet-ary update

2011-07-11T13:45:00.006+01:00

As we are soon finishing our fourth week on the diet, we've upped the ante to 8 weeks in total. Basically we've discovered that it's really easy to eat on this detox. However, we are still suffering from die-off whenever we increase our anti fungal regime; which clearly indicates that we're not done with the little fiends.

Now, I never touched on the subject of anti fungals in my last blog on the topic of yeast overgrowth; however, starvation is not the only way to kill off the armies of yeast, you can also directly attack them with anti fungals. Now you can go to your local pharmacy and buy off the shelf anti fungal creams, and you can go to your doctor to get a prescription for an anti fungal pill. But if you're not suffering from a massive yeast outbreak, then likely neither of those options will be open to you.

However, there are many plants that have naturally evolved anti fungal properties. Cedar is a good example... that stuff will never rot, as NOTHING can live on it! But I'm definitely not recommending that you eat cedar! That would likely kill you along with all your bacteria and yeast!

Lists of natural anti fungals abound on the Internet. However, in general there are two types of anti fungals....

1. Things that are anti fungal because they are fermented by bacteria (let the bacteria battle it out for space in your gut):
-yogurt (fairly obvious)
-buttermilk (only if cultured with lactic acid)
-cottage cheese (NOT paneer or any other kind of cheese... they are fungally based and bolster the yeast armies)
-sauerkraut and kimchi (if salt fermented... not vinegar)
-cultured cider vinegar (if it still has the mother)

2. Then there are the things that are anti fungal because they evolved to be that way. Again the list abounds, but we are partaking in the following:
-swede (rutabaga)
-oil of oregano
-garlic and onion
-coconut oil
-cinnamon

And of the things that come in tablets... we have taken a wee bit of grapefruit seed extra, simply because we own it. However, it's also antibacterial, so not particularly ideal. Really the only thing that comes in a tablet form that is primarily anti fungal is Caprylic acid. So that is our herbal drug of choice.

We hope to eventually get up to 1200mg of caprylic acid a day. Since caprylic acid is just found in coconut oil and breast milk (which is why breast milk doesn't really go off that quickly) any suffering is likely due to die off rather than a side effect of the oil. The only trick when taking caprylic acid is to choose one that has caprylic acid in the form of calcium and magnesium, so that it isn't digested before it making it to the area of interest... your gut.

So, what have we been eating? Well, EVERYTHING savory that you normally love.

As for sweet... well that's been a bit tricky, since stevia isn't legal in the EU (maybe soon?). Now you may imagine that all those alternative sugars like fructose, or agave would be candida friendly? Well, though your body can't digest them (making them a low sugar option for your diet) the yeast in your gut would still be able to thrive on them. There is a product, ominously called xylitol that is available in the EU, and is a candida unfriendly sugar... but I've yet to invest in it. It's just too unnatural for me, as it's a fairly complex process to extract this sugar from birch, or plum skins etc. However, I might treat us to some now that I've exhausted my search for the more natural stevia sugar.

SODA BREAD

Anyways, I'll finish the blog off with my diet friendly, and very tasty recipe for Soda Bread. It's so easy that Nikolai assumes the role of Head Chef whenever we make this bread.

450 g Flour (I use a mix of fine ground wholegrain spelt, fine ground wholegrain rye, and a small amount of coarse wheat. You could use plain white, or a gluten free alternative... whatever you want.) (Approx. 3 cups flour)
1 tsp Salt
1 tsp Bread Soda (Baking Soda)

Mix together. Then mix in 400 g of buttermilk (Approx. 1 +2/3 cups). It will be very sticky. Just glob it onto a greased baking pan and cook it in the oven at 200C (400F) for 20-30 min (it just needs to pass the prick test).

I take this bread and make it mine in so many ways:
-We love adding seeds to the wholemeal version, (A half cup of pumpkin, poppy and sunflower inside, then top with a sprinkling of sesame).
-One tsp of lemon zest, 2 tsp of freshly ground black pepper, 1 tbsp of chives and 3/4 cup of cheese (reserve some cheese for topping)
-One sauteed onion, with 2 tbsp of rosemary and 3/4 cup of cheese (some for topping!)

The combinations are endless!

The picture is of Nikolai and I at our allotment! As you can imagine, we've been giving lettuce away to absolutely everyone!

Back to the Future

2011-07-06T14:26:00.005+01:00

One of the first things we did when we arrived in Ireland was to join the Dublin Food Coop. It was a simple way for us to find our way back to the familiar, in a place that was so full of things that were new to us. Perhaps it is a lesser known fact of Brad's volunteer history, but he spent several years on the board of directors at the East End Food Coop in Vancouver. While it would not be possible for us to participate fully in the Dublin Coop, we would be able to find familiarity amongst the aisles.

It was at the Fáilte (welcome meeting) at the coop that I was introduced to Transition Towns Maynooth. It was a newly started group with a food and environment focus that might suit us. And now, over a year later we are full fledged founding members of the TTM! Having spent the last two weekend involved in various TTM events, I think it's about time to touch on the tricky subject of Peak Oil in my blog.

So, Peak Oil is when the world production of oil has reached the point of maximum output. This concept should be familiar to anyone who lived in the USA in the 1970's as the USA reach their own country's Peak Oil Production point during that time. The small crisis that ensued, before the USA managed to secure sources of oil production abroad, would be relatively minor in comparison to world Peak Oil.

What about nuclear, solar, bio fuels, wind and, the ever popular in Ireland, turf as sources of energy? Well, when the proverbial dinosaur shit hits the fan in regards to oil, all the bog cuts in Ireland will hardly replace our dependence. As everyone knows we use oil for transport and travel, water bottles and clothing, toys and tools. But oil is also the key ingredient in fertilizers and pesticides. Anyways, it's a pretty scary looking scenario that has perhaps already started to befall upon us. (Just think about how much the price of gas has gone up in the past 10 years... I'd say it's well eclipsing inflation).

As our byline states "Transition Towns is a global movement that looks to find community oriented solutions for peak oil". In general, this means looking at establishing local food systems. Our current initiatives include planting fruit and nut trees around Maynooth, creating more accessible allotment (community garden) space (cheaper and smaller, -four of us are currently sharing one of Roger's giant allotments), and fostering support for local farmers. Yours truly created a local food guide (where to buy stuff) and a seasonal eating chart (for Irish produce).

Anyways, enough of my hippy propaganda. The photos are from a trip we took to Castlefarm in Athy. The farm produces milk for Glenisk and Tipperary Icecream. They also have a farm shop where they sell their own (all organic) eggs, meat and produce. The farm tour is at 3pm on the last Saturday of every month. Be sure to wear your boots, as I think nearly all the kids stepped in some "freshly produced manure".

To be three

2011-07-02T13:12:00.007+01:00

I don't do Nikolai posts a lot... however, here's a brief update on his latest personality shift.
Why?
Well, I had been warned by my friends with older children about the upcoming personality shift that occurs around the third birthday.
Why?
Because after age three children start to develop a new level of interpersonal skills that involves strong expressions of friendship (and not-my-friendship), extra whining and insecurity (ours focuses around the monster in his bedroom curtains... though being a bit metaphysical myself... I don't question this too much as we do live next to cemetery), along with questing for independence and self assertion.
Why?

Perhaps a story will demonstrate what I am talking about. Prior to his third birthday, Nikolai would put his foot down about something, and we'd have to assess his mood and our mood to decide whether it was worth the fight. However, yesterday we had a conversation that went a bit more like this.

Me: "if you do that again, I'm going to have to take it away from you".
Nikolai: "Why?"
"Because it will break"
"Why?"
"Because it's not yours to break".
"Why?"
"Because it's not a toy"
"Why?"
"Listen if you do that again I'm going to get really angry with you"

--a pause--
"How angry?"
"Really angry."

As it turns out my threat of "really angry" wasn't a sufficient deterrent. Clearly I'm going to have to rethink my parenting techniques...
Why?

Anyways, I've included some photos from Nikolai's birthday. We had a diet friendly cake of buckwheat pancakes and yogurt for the family party. Then I made a strawberry ice cream cake (a la Martha Stewart) decorated with borage flowers for his party with friends. The cake worked like a charm, but was impossible to cut.

I want to ride my bicycle!

2011-06-28T13:52:00.010+01:00

To start off with... Ireland, despite having fabulous cycling weather (temperate and without sustained rain), rather flat terrain (just skip Sally Gap and you'll be grand), and many country roads, suffers from a pervasive car-centred culture. (Carhead as those of us in the protest cycling community would call it. -We used to spend a LOT of our free time in the car-free cycling culture of Vancouver.) Despite Bike-to-Work campaigns, etc. in general, the Irish view bikes as a weekend hobby rather than a viable means of transportation.

The car-centred culture is expressed in several ways:

-Cars don't know how to deal with bikes... they either honk rudely (rare, as being rude is not really an Irish trait) or they treat you like you were a pedestrian or a horseback rider (follow behind for ages until they have tons of space to pass)

-Drivers never expect bikes to behave like traffic, so you can't just assume that the rules of the road will apply, you need to wait and see what the drivers indicate before you can assume it's your turn to go (even if it is your turn). (We've even been told to ride on the sidewalk, simply because the driver was too afraid to pass us).

-Cars (legally or not) will park anywhere that is not PHYSICALLY blocked off by a pylon or something. This is usually the first thing that our visitors notice as they leave Carton Square for a walk up Main Street. All the cars are parked on the sidewalk along Dillon's Row. This is perhaps most frustrating at the gates to the North Campus at NUIM, as there is absolutely NO sidewalk as cars park all along the walkways, leaving the many pedestrian students to enter campus on via the car access gate.

-Cross walks are only suggestions, and often cars will not stop despite a flashing red light. ("No, honey, the green walking man doesn't ALWAYS mean you can cross"). Intersections let all the cars go one way, then the cars in the other direction get to go, then the cars can turn left, then the cars can turn right... and then... after several minutes of waiting... you can cross the road. I believe that J-walking is the national hobby, as it's really the only safe way to cross! And this is likely because the cars are very polite, and simply looking interested in crossing the road (even half a block away from a cross walk) will often result in cars stopping to let you go.

So with that context in mind, Ireland's National Bike Week campaign is more about getting people to bike, rather than promoting cycling as a viable alternative to cars in Ireland. And the Maynooth campaign is no different. It happens to be organized by Brad's Sunday crew (arguably mostly carheads themselves, as they use cars for daily life and cycling as a way to escape the family on Sunday mornings...), and as such, Brad and I were de-facto organizers ourselves.

Bike week kicked off with a ride to the hydro-electic dam in Leixlip. Now anyone from Ireland is probably left wondering "what dam in Leixlip?" and anyone outside of Ireland is probably wondering "but I didn't think it was that hilly?" And the punchline is... that the dam only produces 4 MW of electricity (for those of you not so up on these things, Brad grew up the Columbia River which has 14 dams ranging 185 MW to 6,809MW).

Clearly, the primary function of the dam is not to actually produce electricity, rather it serves to keep a fairly constant level of water on the Liffey in Dublin. It was originally built in 1945, and we were given a thorough a tour of the facilities (inside and out), so all in all a grand day out. Brad was most impressed with the nifty "fish elevator" which fills every two hours to move fish from the bottom of the dam to the lake at the top!

The next Bike Week Maynooth event was Brad's talk on Cycling Touring in Nova Scotia. He simply ignored the Nova Scotia part (not having actually been there himself) and focused on the cycle touring part. His talk must have been quite inspirational, as we already know he's convinced one family to make their summer vacation a cycle tour of County Clare.

The final Bike Week Event was the Family Cycle Ride to Kilcock. It just so happened to fall on Nikolai's 3rd Birthday, so he was quite excited by all the well wishers and prezzies. The turn out was pretty good for Maynooth, in total 55 people came, with children from all the schools in Maynooth. The weather was beautiful, and Kilcock was celebrating their annual canal festival, so our arrival was greeted with a traditional music circle (one of the cyclists ditched the group to join in), cardboard boat racing and kayak-water polo (though in Ireland kayak's are called canoes and vice-versa).

--Actually Blogger is not uploading photos at the moment, so these will have to wait until sometime in the future--

The picture above is of Nikolai and I (in the cool bike-week organizer shirt... why do these things only come in extra large?) cycling with Aisling and Layla. The two tots on the back had so much fun chatting all the way to Leixlip and back. Below is a picture taken from the top of the Leixlip dam.

The battle for total control

2011-06-22T13:38:00.019+01:00

This blog is a bit of a deluge... into our latest project... and our digestive system. A wee bit up close and personal, a wee bit biomedical, and a wee bit complementary/alternative.

THE BATTLE BETWEEN YEAST AND BACTERIA

To start off with... our digestive system is a teaming city of bacteria, which is a good thing because the main industry in the bacterial town is helping us digest our food. The bacterial also functions as our first line of defense against the ever prevalent and ever invading yeast (Candida).

However, it is often the case that the bacteria in our guts is unable to compete with the onslaught of yeast. At that point, the "big guns" come in and our immune system must take over the role of fighting off the yeast. Unfortunately, this can be quite exhausting for our immunal armies, and our immune systems' defenses weaken in other areas leaving us susceptible to other infections, colds, and allergies. A chronic low level yeast infection also leaves the bacteria in our gut struggling for survival and digestion is also hampered.

Brad and I have both had a few battles with yeasts this spring. We always win, but that doesn't mean the war is over.

Perhaps you are a bit surprised that we would have such issues with yeast? We are healthy, exercise-friendly, organic-vegetarian type people! However, in modern society yeast is given a helping hand in the battle with bacteria... antibiotics and antibacterial products are clearly pro-yeast. In my case, my battle with yeast likely arose after my appendicitis (a week on 5 different IV antibiotics would certainly do the trick).

The other MAJOR factor favoring yeast supremacy is that modern diets favor foods that feed yeast rather than foods that feed bacteria. As any good bread baker knows, yeast like to eat sugar, white flour, fruits, potatoes, etc. Well, bacteria like to eat fibre, usually found in whole grains and vegetables (seen that prebiotic advertising on your hippy brown bread?)

So, despite our rather healthy diet, we still succumb to a good size portion of white grains, sugars and fruits, when compared to our brown grains and vegetables. (Seriously, 100 years ago people hardly had access to the sugars and fruits that we do today. They would have eaten mostly whole grains, and grown a lot of their own veg).

Anyways, since this is such a very long post, I've decided to add a few intermissions. Here is Nikolai playing football (soccer) in the back garden (yard).
So, how do you know if your yeast is winning the war for control of your gut? Well, if you participate in Western medicine, and Western culture, then it is quite likely that the yeasts are winning. There are a number of online quizzes that you can take, but basically any niggling health issues (or simply having two X-chromosomes) is enough to suggest that you have a yeast overgrowth. There's also a fabled SPIT TEST as one means of testing how yeast-y you are; however, there's no real evidence that morning mucus is related to yeast.

There are all sorts of tests for Candida that you could get through your doctor. But if you don't have obvious signs of a yeast outbreak, then they will probably be reluctant to help you out as these tests are not completely reliable either. Regardless, after a spring full of small niggling health problems (coughs, colds, congestion, skin issues, etc.) we decided that a full on Detox Diet was in order.

DETOX DIET

Avoiding Chemicals
In general, the goal of any Detox Diet is to avoid things that are hard for your body (and liver) to break down. Basically avoid caffeine, alcohol, and most of those items on a food label that you can barely read (dexto-hydra-what?)

Balancing Blood Sugar Levels
People generally decide to Detox (or diet) because they feel they are putting on weight, suffering from continuously poor health or (probably the most pressing) they are feeling sluggish and tired through out the day. These are all related to having spikes in blood sugar levels. Drink a glass of juice (check it out, juice generally contains as many glucose calories as Coke per ml), eat some white pasta, or have a cookie and your blood sugar levels will peak about 20 minutes later. This causes your body to rush in with some insulin to bring those levels back down... resulting in dramatically lower blood sugar levels. Insulin causes sugars to be stored as fat, and leaves you feeling sluggish.

Next intermission, Nikolai and Brad playing football at Castletown House in Celbridge.
There are many, many, many variations on a anti-candida diet. They vary based on how strict they are... but the way I see it, if you want to be on the diet for a few months, then choose a more lenient diet (include milk, fruit, etc). If you want to be on the diet for only two weeks, then eat nothing but meat and green vegetables. Here's what we've taken out of our diet... and we have a goal of being pretty well behaved (may cheat once for Nikolai's birthday cake) for one month, then follow up with a more lenient diet for a second month.

All sugars, honey, maple syrup.
All preservatives and additives
All alcoholic beverages
Caffeine (even decaf teas and coffee)

Refined Grains
Malted products (grain turned into sugar)
Milk (other than butter, yogurt and cottage cheese)

Peanuts and Pistachios (mold containing nuts)
Yeast
Fermented Foods
Anything with Vinegar
Mushrooms

Fruit
Corn
Root Vegetables
Winter Squash

So, do you want to know how our battle (diet) is going?

The first three days we craved, CRAVED sugar. We don't even really eat that much sugar generally, but the cravings and headaches were very persistent.

Day 4 was our honeymoon day. The diet the cravings were gone, and we were actually starting to enjoy the diet! Both of us noticed distinctly better energy levels, and our mood seem to stabilize (I usually have dramatic mid-afternoon slumps).

However, by day 6, we both started to show signs of the fabled "yeast die off" or Herxheimer Reactions (for those more biochemically based).

A Herxheimer Reaction is what happens when a large number of toxins is released into the body by dying bacteria or yeast. This is classically found with antibiotic treatments, but is also seen when a Candida diet starts to work. The effects can be diminished by reducing the rate at which the cells die, allowing the body time to remove the excess toxins.

My symptoms are mild, I have bit of acne and some issues with hypotension (low blood pressure). However, Brad is suffering from some pretty major gut issues, along with headache, chills, the works. Since he had to give a talk this morning, I sent him off to work with a teaspoon of honey. Totally not diet friendly, but it stopped the dramatic yeast die off, and allowed his body to catch up. Not surprisingly, he felt much better within the hour (I let him suffer for 2 days before offering up the obvious form of relief!)

Last intermission... a purposeful bike accident.
Phew, this is quite the post... but if you made it to the end, then I need to acknowledge the quasi-medicinal side of our battle with yeast.

The medical community recognizes massive yeast out breaks, in the form of oral thrush, skin infections, and yeast infection. They also recognize that people with immune-deficiencies can suffer from whole body yeast infections. What isn't recognized, is the fact that general people could be fighting low-level yeast infections all the time. This is because there is no legitimate way to diagnose low level infections, and because the symptoms are non-existent (a weak immune system, allergies, and digestive issues can have so many different causes).

However, if you are feeling a bit blah around the edges, why not try a detox? I would have expected my battle with yeast to be harder fought then Brad's, because I had way more health issues and yeast issues this spring. However, given the strength of Brad's Herxheimer Reaction, he clearly had quite a yeast overgrowth without many symptoms.

So, why not donate a few weeks this summer to a household dietary cleanses? It certainly can't harm you, and the results may even surprise you!

An ode to the Maynooth Newsletter

2011-06-16T14:54:00.009+01:00

The Maynooth Newsletter comes out, but once a month. It is free to all and circulated door-to-door around Maynooth. But you can also pick it up at the local grocery stores (though I was recently corrected on my use of that word, apparently I should be referring to Tescos and ilk as Supermarkets) and in the bookshop. And as far as I know it's publication is the only thing that the Maynooth Community Council is actually responsible for.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

I love that it is 32 pages long. And most of those pages have some connection (social or otherwise) to our daily life.

I love that it contains an hour's worth of reading in the advice column format (gardening, finance, employment, home theft prevention and passport renewal this month).

I love that it publishes the minutes of community council meeting (Tidy Towns are stepping up their activities, and light reflective strips are needed at the corners of Main Street!)

I love the crossword contest and the kids colouring contest.

I love the full colour photographs of the families with children making the Holy Communion.

I love that someone from NUIM provided a translation of early Irish Text.

But most of all I LOVE the ad for Brad's talk on cycle touring in Nova Scotia for bike week! (He's never even been to Nova Scotia, but as the Bike Week organizer said, sure... but... it's just down the road from Quebec, right?)

And while most of the recipes this month are centred around meat... here's a Gooseberry Cobbler that has a rather Irish flare:

Cook in a saucepan, covered, until berries begin to pop:
3 cups of gooseberries, washed topped and tailed
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp grated ginger
3 tbsp elderflower cordial
4 tbsp water

Mix the topping:
1 cup plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup of butter (rub into dry ingredients)
1/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup butter milk (add enough to make a sticky dough)

Put gooseberry mixture into the bottom of a baking dish, then top with dough. Bake for 25 minutes at 375F (170C).

The photo is of Nikolai and a friend at the Dublin Zoo. Colin's family recently moved here from Oregon. They have a REALLY nice camera (so, so jealous), and a blog for those back home that is more photographic in nature. Don't worry that cat was too busy eating to notice our children standing so close.

Enjoying the everyday

2011-06-13T15:18:00.003+01:00

After the continuous excitement of the past few months, I hardly know what to blog about now that we're back to the everyday! But having had two relaxing weekends in a row (Brad was taking a weekend course this spring, so we haven't had a quiet weekend since early March) I can finally breathe a sigh of contentment and enjoy our daily life.

With the coming solstice, the sun hardly sets (today it rises at 4:58am and sets at 9:55pm), and energy abounds. Like most Irish children, Nikolai has pushed his bedtime back to 10pm, despite our best efforts at an earlier bedtime. Last week, we finally gave into Nikolai's sun-induced mania, and thus enjoyed our evenings out and about. As such, Nikolai had 3 nights of being out late while we enjoyed some adult social time. We also had a lovely after dinner family cycle ride through some parkland to a neighbouring village, which proved to be a relatively simple feat (Nikolai did not even come close to dozing off in the bike seat, even though we didn't get back home until almost 9pm).

Beyond socializing, regular life offers more time for cooking, baking, and being crafty! So on that note, I'm going to finish with a recipe for vegetarian Korma that Brad and I created together. Seriously delicious... so I highly recommend you make the effort to try it out. And a picture of my friend Steffi's sewing creation! She's clearly a fab sewer, but I feel like I deserve some credit, as she'd never sewed so much as an apron before I started inviting myself over to her house to sew! (My sewign accomplishments are mostly relegated to editing clothes and making myself a few new skirts, as featured below... from our trip to Budapest.)

Veggie Korma

Ingredients:

1 ½ c thinly sliced onions
1 tbsp finely chopped garlic
1 ½ tbsp finely chopped ginger
50 g almonds (could replace with sunflower seeds)

½ c oil
2 tsp cumin seed
1 ½ ground mace (the outside of a nutmeg, can replace with nutmeg)
6 green cardamon pods
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
¾ tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp garam masala
½ tsp chili powder
1 tsp paprika

450 g of button mushrooms
250 g dried beans (pintos, black or kidney, soak and cook as normal before use)
1 c plain yogurt (or vegan yogurt)
1 c cream (could sub in yogurt for a less satisfying, but healthier alternative)
1 tbsp salt

Method:
Grind into a paste the almonds, garlic ginger, and onions.
Heat the oil, fry the cardamon pods and cumin seed.
Add the paste and fry for a few minutes.
Add cumin, mace, cinnamon, garam masala, chili pepper, and paprika and stir rapidly for a few seconds to mix the spices and paste.
Add the mushrooms and saute evenly turning and tossing them for 5 minutes
Add ½ c yogurt, ½ c cream, beans and salt and bring to boil.
Reduce the heat and simmer covered for 20 minutes.

When the korma is fully cooked, it should look dry and have just enough gravy to coat the mushrooms.
Stir the remaining yogurt and cream in and turn off the heat. Freezes well.

When Summer is one day in June

2011-06-05T13:42:00.008+01:00

After having spent 8 days touring around Ireland's "South Coast", the sun and heat finally arrived. We spent all of Thursday and Friday playing in the paddling pool in our back garden, and with the arrival of Saturday we felt that it was finally time to make good on a promise to Nikolai.

That promise was made in a little general store cum pub (the only joint in town) on the Ring of Kerry. While we were busy picking up some sundries for dinner, Nikolai was busy picking out his favorite bucket and spade combo for the beach. Now, as you may recall, the weather was less than beach-y and the idea trying to squeeze in another toy into the trailer was not very appealing. So promises of a future beach trip was made... and locations of all beaches dully noted on the map.

Unfortunately, (and perhaps fortunately for those of us actually cycling) the weather never crept up above 18C on that trip. But with two days of hot sun under our belts this week, we decided it was time to check out Dublin's beach scene!

And being rather coastal Dublin has a number of beaches: so here is a brief review of the "beaches" we've explored thus far (from North to South):

Malahide: has a huge sandy dune, which although it has beautiful sand, it's not so good for swimming (strong currents and poor water quality).

Howth: has a few "beaches" but the best one is the "hole in the wall" located behind the train station. A beautiful view of the Howth Eye and nice/rock combo makes this a favorite with Nikolai. (His primary beach hobby is throwing rocks into water). This beach is not one of the maintained beaches, so don't be surprised to find some litter.

North Bull Island: We've only cycled past Dollymount Strand, but apparently it is good for Kite Surfing, so I imagine it's got good sand, but not great for swimming.

Sandymount Strand: was amazing to look at, but again not so good for swimming. It is a huge sandy plateau, that even at high tide, would not have much depth, but at low tide you could walk for ages on the wet sand. We only saw this on a from the DART (train) as our destination was a bit further south.

Seapoint: was advertised as good for swimming in our map book and online. That is probably true. However, it is all rocks, so not very good for Nikolai! After realizing this we hopped back on the DART to continue to the next set of beaches.

Sandycove and the Forty Foot pool: After discovering that neither Seapoint nor Sandymount would provide us with the bathing experience we were looking for we suffered a bit of a crisis (when we asked Seapoint locals about a beach for swimming we were pointed to Killiney , which was quite a bit further away). But this adventure did not end at Killiney...

As those of you who know Dylan may recall, Dylan is an adventurous sort. His main hobbies have traditionally been snowboarding (all over the world) and climbing (all over the world). As he is mellowing with age, he's decided to add a much safer extreme hobby to his arsenal... nude swimming. Thus when Dylan spent his one (and only) day in Dublin he took the DART out to the Forty Foot Pool, traditionally a nude bathing place. In modern times, such as these, togs (bathing suits) are required (unless you swim before 9am). But Dylan still got to experience a bit of the adventurous thrill, by swimming with some stinging jellyfish.

Anyhow, we did not go to the Forty Foot Pool, but rather the lifeguarded Sandycove right next door. The beach was small, and packed with locals. The sand quality was fairly coarse. But the beach vibe was pumping... with snorkeling, scuba diving, high jumping, sandcastles and ice cream. Nikolai was pretty keen, right up until he actually stuck his foot in the water. I guess you have to be a local (or loco) to enjoy the North Atlantic water!

Malahide is above and Sandycove is below.

Just don't ask me about the weather

2011-05-30T14:46:00.018+01:00

In my last blog I failed to mention what spurned this insane double-dip holiday idea. Well... our friend Dylan (also from our Undergraduate days... alas, another bleedin' Engineer) arrived the day after our return from Budapest, bike in tow.
So you may be wondering... how was the cycle tour? And our general response would be ...good...
Perhaps it is best summarized by a detail itinerary?

Day 1: We trained to Cork, then cycled out to Blarney right away. Blarney was nice, but ultimately overrated. You pay €10 to climb a really dangerous looking staircase (yes, I wimped out) to kiss a stone at the top of the castle. You do not get a tour, or any historical information about the castle. Though I admit, that perhaps I would have felt more positive about Blarney if it hadn't been pouring rain. At least Leinster won the Heiniken Cup! Up Leinster!
Day 2: We cycled to a small town in the middle of nowhere. Nikolai was unimpressed with the lack of playground. We were unimpressed with the lack of vegetarian food (only 1 pub in town!)
Day 3: I nearly died. Figuratively. Literally, we took a sheep trail over a few mountain ranges with a "gale-force" headwind the whole way. It took us 5 hours to go 30km. We were cycling 10 km/hr down hill!! It was about lunch time when I decided that we would have to cancel the trip because I was not going to be able to make it all the way. Dylan and Brad (please note, they both are on more speed-worthy bikes, so it's not just my lack of fitness) set out on a campaign to convince me that all was not lost. But it wasn't their newly found skills of elocution (from that rather unsanitary Blarney kiss) that convinced me; it was when we joined onto the paved National Route that I once again found the courage to continue. (Smooth road, lower gradients, and signs of civilization).
Day 4: We made our way down the Beara peninsula to a beautiful seaside town of Allihies. The sun shone, the sand was soft, and while the only pub in town did not cater to Veggies, at least the grocery store was open. (Although I admit the can of hummus purchased there was probably the worst Mediterranean food experience of my life, but at least I could eat it!)
Day 5: After 2 days of gale force head winds, we were finally going back up the peninsula! In my whole cycling career I have never honestly been pushed up hill by the wind before. I've had speedy tail-winds, but this was a full force pedal-less push. The other excitement came when we encountered the An Post Rás (Ireland's most important cycle race). We kept expecting it... and seeing all the support vehicles, etc. I think we pulled over at least 10 times before the race finally caught up to us. (Mental note: the Gardi/police clear the road for a race, not just energy drink trucks) After hours of anticipation the riders raced past us and were gone in less than 3 minutes.
Day 6 to Day 8: We cycled around the Ring of Kerry. Lots of lovely views, lots of beautiful beaches, and a period of reverting back to a more primeval self. Again, don't ask about the weather. My days were spent with burning muscles (lord knows why my triceps were screaming), scavenging for food, ensuring that my offspring was happy and desperately trying to stay warm. Perhaps that sounds a bit dramatic, but it was more like a trade off between burning muscles (going up hill) and frozen extremities (cycling down hill).
Perhaps I could boil the trip down to some good and bad aspects:

Good: Nikolai was a perfect cycling companion. He didn't complain once about getting on to the bike. He slept well through the night. He charmed everyone he met with his politeness. Phew.
Bad: "unseasonably bad weather"
Good: There was very little traffic on the major roads around both peninsulas. Perhaps in the main tourist season this would be busier? But after our dirt road experience we stuck to the main routes and encountered very few cars.
Bad: "unusually windy conditions"
Good: Both peninsula's were beautiful. The both had lovely white sand beaches. I would highly recommend the trip to anyone!
In the end, the best part of the whole trip was the chance to "get away from it all" and "recenter" ourselves. There is something magical in the silence of exertion and the disconnection from society and ultimately ourselves. It is a chance for introspection, something we so dramatically need in today's society of constant media saturation.

News in brief

2011-05-19T14:43:00.007+01:00

We got back from Budapest late last night, and our next guest arrives tonight... (yes, a pile of chores is burgeoning)... and we're leaving for a cycle trip on Saturday (yes, even more chores). So this summary of Budapest will be brief in nature. But as this is officially our 3rd trip to Budapest, we took it at a pretty relaxed pace (blog 2004, blog 2006).

To quickly summarize my city observations, we did notice that Budapest is gentrifying... the Szechenyi spa had completely renovated their indoor facilities and now they have over 10 indoor pools to explore, and the streets are being spruced up with complete renovations. We also noticed that there are a LOT of playgrounds (wouldn't have paid any attention to that before now).

The kids seemed to be more rough and tumble. As a result they were much thinner (doe-like), and more banged up than Irish or Canadian children (perhaps more reminiscent of my childhood?). They also were a lot quieter. Less crying, shouting, singing, etc. not just at the hospital, but at the playgrounds as well.

As mentioned previously, after our hospital visit, we went on a cruise up the Danube! A great way to get a feel of the city. We probably could have learned more history... but it was hard to understand the guided tour (thick accent coupled with wind).

For Nikolai's benefit we tried ALL of the local transport options (Funicular, Tram, Metro).

Naturally, we checked out the famous coffee houses.

More photos may follow after we get copies of those taken by Claire and Jessica.

As for the queen's visit... while it's been quite difficult for the locals, as they completely closed down all areas that she's going to (or driving through). This morning, Brad's co-workers couldn't get into work because of road closures in Kildare, since she went to the Irish National Stud in Kildare. It is clear that her visit is not really geared towards fixing past regrets with Ireland, as failed to sip at the pint of Guinness poured for her at the Brewery. Instead she and the Duke of Edinburgh just blandly smiled at it and walked away. Perhaps this article speculating that the trip is more about gaining American approval isn't that far off?

The Queen has arrived

2011-05-17T15:06:00.006+01:00

We're having a fab time in Budapest... but I felt the need to post an article about a bomb found in Maynooth. According to the gossip, it was found on a 67a bus (yes Claire and my parents have all ridden on that bus), at the bus loop by the playground in Maynooth. Thankfully, the Gardai safely detonated the device... but I could do without such incidences.

While the Queen is not coming to Maynooth, she will be heading to some sites in Kildare. However, I imagine the bomb was Dublin bound (as it was a Dublin bound bus), so I'm certain that we'll be safe in Maynooth. With all this stress and negative press... oh why did the Queen bother to come to Ireland?

But she has arrived, and the show must go on. I don't think that simply showing up wearing an emerald green outfit will win over the hearts of the Irish population. I hope that she has an awfully good speech writer, because the Irish are famous for their expertise with rhetoric.

The photos are of Nikolai and I in the Labyrinth beneath Budapest's old town, and a family photo in front of the Fisherman's Bastion.

Misadventures in Budapest

2011-05-16T14:22:00.010+01:00

How many times does one toddler need to wee (pee) during a 2 hour flight? I guess the answer depends on whether the toddler in question is A) really bored; B) served an adult-sized beverage. If the answers to the above questions are both yes, then you will be taking that toddler to the tiny airplane toilet at least 4 times during the flight.

But to be fair, this particular blog is about what happened upon check-in to to our rental apartment. It fills me with such guilt of my own horrible distraction, rushing, but most certain responsibility for what occurred after we stepped out of the airport taxi that I felt the need to start with a light story just to clear the air for my confession. Of course, I could just have avoided the issue altogether... and not provided my shameful confession, but someone might have wondered why we didn't post any pictures of Nikolai while in Budapest.

So on this faithful day, during nap... Brad's at a conference, Claire and Jessica (my sister and her friend are joining us on this trip... hence the apartment rental. However, the apartment has worked out so well, that I'm thinking of traveling apartment-style more frequently... but again I procrastinate from the task at hand); Claire and Jessica are at the famous Budapest baths, and I am blogging.

Upon arrival to our apartment building, we carried our luggage into the building and to the elevator. Now, Nikolai is terribly afraid of elevators, and probably hasn't stepped foot in one in nearly 2 years. A funny peccadillo; however, he will ride in an elevator if he is carried, or riding in his buggy (stroller). So as we stood getting ready to go into the elevator, I unfolded the buggy so that Nikolai could ride up. And he jumped into the buggy just as I was locking it open. And (here comes the awful part) his finger got caught between the bar and the plastic latch. As you can imagine, awful howling ensued. But what you might not imagine is that getting the buggy to unlock and collapse (so as to free his finger) was very difficult, likely because of the tension his finger was creating. And while it took us only probably a few seconds to finally force the buggy to collapse, it felt like forever.

His finger came out very flat, but without any external bleeding (I guess he inherits my extra thick skin). Now Nikolai is particularly non-dramatic about injuries, but he was howling like a banshee. He howled as the hostess fetched ice, called 112 to find out what to do (FYI 112 is a Europe-wide 999, or 911, so if you're Irish, I recommend switching alliances), called us a cab. And he screamed the whole way to the hospital, he started to calm down in the waiting room, but that was likely due to exhaustion since he still was moaning painfully. He really didn't want to see the doctor, and he wouldn't spread his fingers out for the x-ray (forcing us to go back for seconds), but he did seem to calm down about 30 minutes after the accident occurred.

As some of you may know, I used to work at BC Children's hospital, so I have a pretty good idea of how things worked at THAT hospital. This hospital was definitely less polished then that, and was potentially built during the soviet era (it was that sort of institutional-functional style building). But the staff were amazing. We paid in cash for everything, and I would have to say it was a lot cheaper than if we'd had this accident in Ireland! (Perhaps we were sent to a low cost hospital, since our hostess was very concerned when we told her that we didn't have insurance?) Anyways, it was €30 for the consultation, and €30 for the x-rays!

We were triaged quickly (probably because of the minimal amount of waiting space and Nikolai's wailing -- I noticed that NONE of the Hungarian children were crying in the waiting room, despite obvious injuries) and sent to wait in what must have been the "broken bone clinic". The waiting space comprised a random assortment of benches and chairs. Despite being a children's hospital, there was no colour, and no distractions (TV, magazines, toys, anything). All the other children were there with a crew of siblings, and most of those kids were quiet and patient.

It was a very quiet waiting area... except for Nikolai of course.

Anyways, there was only one consult room with a team of 4 - 6 in it (one doctor thankfully spoke English), and they were treating about 2 patients at a time in the room (my RPG background in hospital design was reeling at the thought! Canadian doctors protest if they have to share offices, or dictation cubicles!). There were no bathrooms in the building (on future flights, I don't think we'll let Nikolai drink a whole airline beverage by himself!) and the x-ray room was just down the hall.

The most interesting thing was that we were required to take our x-rays (yes, actual, physical x-rays photographs) from the technician back to the doctor. Which means you have all the patients and their parents in the waiting room holding the x-ray photos up to the light, trying to guess if there's a fracture or not. When we returned to the doctor with our x-ray, he was about to invite us back into the room, when he changed his mind... basically because there was some kid who was in pretty bad shape on the table. We think he was in a dirt bike accident because he was covered in bandages.

We would have been in and out of the hospital in just over an hour, if it weren't for the need to get a second set of x-rays. In the end Nikolai was very lucky, and did not have a fracture. But given that he did have quite a bit of bruising, and a very unhappy nail, he has been wrapped up in a rather beefy bandage.

Anyways, on the whole, given my expertise as a healthcare planner, I would rate our hospital experience very highly. Sure, it was a no-frills kind of place. But it was affordable, fast, efficient, and I felt that we received a high quality of health care. Sometimes it feels as though doctors are more interested in maintaining their personal status as an expert than providing quality healthcare.

In discussing the detriments of the Canadian Healthcare system, I think everyone needs to re-evaluate what it is that we need from our healthcare system. All we need is for healthcare to be timely, and effective. Healthcare doesn't need to be:
- bogged down with bureaucracy
- at the cutting edge of technology (though I'm sure that there are many corporations that would disagree)
- provided by healthcare practitioners that care more about their own status and wealth than their patients well being.

Above is with Claire and Jessica on the Chain Bridge, and below is a close up of Nikolai's bandage (a few hours after it was done... getting a bit dirtier now. We're on a cruise up the Danube).

Discothèque

2011-05-13T18:43:00.004+01:00

We're about to embark on a series of holidays, so it may be a while till I get the time to properly blog. Until then I'd like to touch on two cultural phenomenon that are ramping up to a head (and express some annoyance at the Blogger issues this week).

The Queen's visit to Ireland

The first royal visit to the island since 1911... coming on the anniversary of the Dublin and Monahan bombings... will be paying a visit to Croke Park (of the Bloody Sunday)... And even though I am at heart a Monarchist (like all good Canadians), I am rather disenchanted by the Queen's visit.

1. To start off with, I have yet to hear ANYONE express a positive sentiment about the royal family. Even the wedding was greeted by a rather blasé attitude.
2. Ireland is already in trouble for calling the Queen "Your Royal Highness" in radio adverts. Apparently the Queen is only refereed to as "Your Majesty", "Your Royal Highness" is only used in reference to the rest of the family.
3. Last years bomb scares were practically non-existent. This year has seen the number steadily rise, including quite a few in Dublin this week (1, 2, 3, 4).

Clearly, most people don't really care if the Queen comes (Obama is an entirely different story), and some people REALLY don't want the Queen to come. So why does she have to come? She's here for 3 days, and will be on a "Royal tour" and will be seeing a crazy amount of sites in Ireland. The place is going to be a zoo of security and potential terrorism threats. Quelle drag.

Eurovision
How to explain Eurovision to an outsider... like you, last year I would have been chagrined by the over-the-top gaudiness to the whole thing. I would have made fun of the incredibly lame "pop-trash" songs and the cheesy comments from the presenters. I was a definite dis-believer in the cultural phenomenon. This year, due to peer pressure at Brad's office (yes, even the mathematicians seem to follow it) we have tuned in. And boy do I LOVE IT. Give me more cheesy Euro-flash with spangles and text-type voting because it is not just entertainment, it is the popcorn and beer too!!

I'm sure you can watch all of this Euro-loviness on Youtube. The finals are on Saturday, and we have only watched one set of the semi-finals so far. But I liked Denmark, and Ukraine (not for the Music but the art). Brad liked Moldova and Estonia. And I'll include Russia for the relations... and Belarus for the controversy (seriously, who would vote for a song called I love Belarus... from the only dictatorship left in Europe). Note: I am not willing to discuss Jedward... other than to say, they seem to be quite popular in Ireland... a fact that probably officially means that I am no longer "cool".

Allée Allée Allée

2011-05-07T20:44:00.008+01:00

And while our spring has been packed with visitors and visiting, we have been equally avid in our cycling training. Every free weekend day results in a trip to somewhere... I've been cycling in the evenings with my pair of A(i)s(h)lings... and Brad's been out training for the Wicklow 2(1)00 with his friends. On this weekend of anticipation (as we will be away traveling for the next three weekends --I am anticipating my "ode to a toddler who will not sleep in a hotel" blog) I have three tails of cycling:

Arthur Guinness's Grave
While we've done a number of interesting local treks (Naas's Grand Canal, the Wonderful Barn, Captains' Hill) perhaps the most notable destination -from a touristic point of view was A rthur Guinness' Grave. It is perhaps most notable for it's lack of notoriety. Located up Lyons Hill, in an abandoned church yard, in the middle of a sheep field. The Grave itself is found within the walls of the "church" on the right hand side of what was once probably the nave of a rather small church. It is generally unremarkable... other than the occasional bottle of Guinness left at it's side. A beautiful view, rolling hills, friendly neighbouring horses and hand piled stone walls make this trek worth trekking. Of note, you can climb the tower in the church... but Nikolai and I were both to sensible for that!

Feminists Ride Bikes
The Maynooth Cycling Campaign, of which Brad is a de-facto member due to proximity with the main organizer, basically is focused on trying to get more people cycling. They have a particularly difficult time getting women to cycle, and have asked me to come out and "represent" on the teen rides. So perhaps I'm a de-facto member too?

Anyways, most of the Lycra clad butts cycling around Kildare on the weekend are males. But I think I've figured out one of the reasons why groups of women aren't signing up for cycling... Last week, when Aisling, Ashling and I were on our evening ride, a car load of young men pulled up and called out to us. Being rather deaf... I'm not sure what was said... but from my friends embarrassed faces I gather they were propositioning us.

It seems to be a very acceptable phenomenon... The bicycle incident was fairly mild compared to the harassment we received at the pub during the toddler group's "Mom's Night Out". So I've decided to cling to my feminist roots, by claiming my right to cycle (Lycra clad or otherwise).

The Torrential Downpour
The highlight of our cycle training, thus far, happened on Saturday night when we got to cycle home in a torrential downpour. This is a rare enough thing in Ireland... however, we knew the rain was coming as we could see the storm sweeping in from the Wicklow mountains. Our first thought was to race home, but we soon realized that "out pacing" the rain was not going to be possible. When it was time to batten down the hatches... we relocated Nikolai to a safer (and dryer) location in the trailer and threw on our raincoats.

It was a moment of complete awe, as we watched the sheets of rain come towards us from across a farmer's fields. And then it was upon us... even though we got thoroughly soaked (as Nikolai put it, "you look like you took a bath in the rain!!") we were in utter bliss the whole way home. This was the rain of so many memories... as we both were stalwart cycle commuters. With an average of 150mm of rain a month in Vancouver's winter, cycling home in the rain was a full sized helping of nostalgia for us (clearly I'm not a copy writer for Tourism Vancouver)!

I can think of only one thing that perhaps truly defines what it means to be Canadian... something that can encompass us all... no matter our heritage, or where we live in the giant country (big enough to eat the whole continent of Europe several times over)... to be Canadian is to not be afraid of inclement weather. In fact I'd go one more than that, to be Canadian is to embrace inclement weather! Neigh on everyone of us has gone out in -20C weather... and many have pulled on our long underwear for -40C (with a Nikolai in my belly) simply to watch the sundogs or aurora borealis.

And Vancouver boasts a 4% cycle commuter rate, despite the constant assurance of rain. Brad and I own: shoe covers, wet pants, cycle coats (fully ventable and waterproof), gloves, ear covers, neck warmers and a belly warmer (me) all so that we could get our daily dose of exercise in the form of a bike. So a ten minute deluge in the beautiful rolling fields of Kildare can be nothing more then a moment of bliss. And since it's Mother's Day in Canada, I will indulge my mothering side a bit... and say "I am so glad that we could share this moment with Nikolai; because what could be more important to becoming a well rounded person than to see your parents laughing joyfully while cycling in the rain?".

Above is the piled stone fencing and rolling hills. Below is the tumbled down church and stone grave markers, and a close up of the illegible grave stone.

Ode to sunny (and windy) days

2011-05-03T14:00:00.006+01:00

For Jeff and Lindsay's visit we tried our best to give them a wee taste of Ireland... we sent them to Dublin, Trim, Newgrange, and...

we took them to the pub for a traditional Sunday Carvery Dinner. Now this is a tradition that we've never partook in ourselves, though all of the pubs in town would offer a carvery. A carvery by definition is a plate of meat decorated with some boiled cabbage, carrots and potatoes, not very veggie. Regardless, the carvery has strong Irish roots, so we chose to take them to Brady's. Though I heard that the meat was fabulous ...they did offer a veggie soup with bread, so we survived!

We also took them (by request) on a day trip to the ocean. Since the weather was far too windy for much beach activity, we decided to visit Malahide. Malahide's most famous for it's castle, so a tour was naturally required. The castle itself was quite nice... but the site is privately run... so unlike all of the Heritage Ireland sites... the tour was in audio format only. Which means it was quite short (35 minutes) and only just glazed the surface of historical interest... focusing more on "important pieces" in the decor. I also found the cafe to be a complete drag... much more reminiscent of a tourist trap in Canada... in Ireland the tourist sites usually have fantastic cafes, worthy of a visit simply for the food. Not so true in Malahide.

The castle grounds are really lovely, with nice landscaping and a pretty terrific playground (second only to that in Lisburn). Malahide has a nice view of the Irish Sea, bobbing fishing boats, and lovely fine sand dunes. A warmer day would have made for some good sand castle building. However, it's an estuary, meaning that there is a standing wake at the mouth of the town, so swimming would definitely not be a safe enterprise.

Jeff and Lindsay are fairly avid bloggers, so you can see their opinion of Ireland on their blog! We loved having them stay. Nikolai and Zach had a mutual adoration, which made it easy for the two of them to entertain each other. Zach is already a very active (and literally bouncy) baby, so I imagine in two years time the two of them will be well entertained by tearing around the back garden after a football (soccer-style of course).

Above is Jeff, Lindsay and Zach on the train. Below is Malahide Castle (can you tell who comes from Kelowna?) and the sand dunes (we seldom get family photos).

Some gratuitous self promotion

2011-04-28T13:20:00.005+01:00

A quick blog only, as our friend's Lindsay (Brad's friend from Castlegar... and my randomly assigned roommate in the University of Victoria (UVic)), Jeff (a class mate of Brad's from UVic) and their 6 month old son Zach have arrived! If you're good at extrapolation, I'm guessing you can see the 90210-style connections between our relationships... Lindsay introduced me to Brad on my first night in Victoria, and Lindsay would have met Jeff at Brad's first house party. Anyways, a general gang of Castlegarians and Engineers featured prominently in my first few years of University... Zach and Nikolai are just a few of the consequences.

But this blog is all about ME, so let's get back to the topic at hand... namely, how do I avoid dying of brain-numbing boredom while staying at home with Nikolai all day. Well, I blog... I socialize... I garden... cook... clean... and... I paint! In fact I belong to the Castle Keep Art Group! And while we're all total amateurs this weekend, we're having our first art exhibition of the year (and art sale, to give you an inkling, my pieces are all running between €75-€160).

Tomorrow night is our opening party; wine, speeches, and local celebs will all be there. I am very much embarrassed, but excited too. Not sure how my art will be taken... at the moment I'm only painting with milk paint. Milk paint is an old fashioned paint created from milk protein, lime and natural earth or mineral pigments. It is naturally non-toxic, low VOC and environmentally friendly (which is why I'm keen to use it). The colours are archival quality and won't change or fade over time (which is nice because archival acrylics or oil are very expensive).

The only trick is my palette is limited to natural colours, and so I don't have a full range of colours. Also, the paint has interesting properties in regards to it's luminance and opacity, so it's often tricky to get a precise shade of colour. Anyways, I took photos of all the pieces I'm going to enter... and my website is not very current (and mostly features milk paint practice efforts) so I'll post a few pics here... just 'cause today it's all about me! (Jeff, Lindsay and Zach will feature in my next blog, but today I've sent them off to Newgrange to explore the prehistoric barrows which will probably feature in their blog sometime soon.)

They're ordered by date of creation... below is St. Patricks... from the cemetery at NUIM.

Saskatchewan 1

Sirince (inspired by Turkey)

My boat is so small (an experiment using fabrics to increase my range of colours and provide some texture).

How long must we sing this song?

2011-04-26T14:18:00.005+01:00

In the Republic of Ireland people no longer have the heart for vengeance towards the British. In general, the Queen's visit is more of a passing curiosity than a political travesty (even the more recent travesties of political and economic woes haven't raised much of a mew of protest, so caring about the Royals is not high on most peoples' agenda). Saying that, there has been a bit of resurgence in the fight for Northern Ireland as it seems that there is "New" IRA splinter group. So far this group has focused it's attentions on Catholic Police Officers in Northern Ireland (the police in Ireland are called Gardi) as they are "helping the enemy".

Political will towards this group is fairly slim, because no one really wants a resurgence of sectarian violence (as there are only losers in such affairs). However, the economic woes have left young people with few job prospects, and lots of anger. It is in the hopelessness of a future-less youth that extremism will propagate. In Northern Ireland this takes the form of the new IRA; in the Republic, gang culture is taking over. But in general, given the current state of affairs (the recently elected government has gone back on many election promises, to form a government that looks pretty much like the previous one) I think that everyone feels... apathetic. The following quote aptly summarizes things: "it doesn't matter who you elect, the government always get in".

So, what does it matter whether your taxes go to bailout a corrupt system in Britain, or a corrupt system in Ireland? It is best for everyone to get along with their neighbours, because it is only in our small communities that we will thrive. And this is never more apparent than if you cycle around the peaceline communities of Falls Road and Shankill Road. Both are thriving neighbourhoods, and the "famous" peaceline murals have mostly been converted to pledges of peace... and... well... graffiti. (Also worth noting... as a testament to the strength of the peace process... the downtown core of Belfast was well equipped with trash bins... unlike London.)

So this begs the question of what sort of beast is Belfast? Irish or British?

We found most of the cultural and social leanings to be Irish. The tourist shops were flogging the same Guinness and shamrock speckled kitsch that you would find in Dublin. The library had all of the Irish authors and Irish folk tales that would be found in our Maynooth branch.

Our experience was a bit of "a through the looking glass" version of Ireland, everything was mostly the same... Dunnes, Ireland jerseys, GAA sports... all the components that make Ireland IRELAND were present in Belfast. But the looking glass tilt on everything came from the sub-culture. In Ireland the sub-culture is definitely American in nature. People watch American TV shows, listen to American music and have American cultural leanings. In Belfast all of those cultural leanings tended to be British. Saying that... there were no union jacks around, and hardly a gleaning of the royal family was to be found (considering the excitement of the wedding this coming weekend, we would have imagined there'd be a wee bit more of a nod towards the royals).

In the end, I think Northern Ireland has become its own distinct place. They have their own money (printed by local banks, but not accepted as currency anywhere else in the UK), they definitely have their own accent (if you have trouble understanding someone's accent, they're probably Scottish; if you CAN'T understand the accent, then they're Northern Irish!), and their own version of Soda Bread. Over 90 years of cultural separation from Ireland and continuous political turmoil has lead to an evolution leading to a unique sense of what it means to be from Northern Ireland.

And now for some photos. The Highway of Holiness church with the garage doors was just too funny. Do you think it was an auto body shop or an actual church?

Cycling the peaceline:

A mural near Ormeau Park and our B&B:

And as evidence of the poor economy, every neighbourhood seemed to be fraught with vacancies:

Funny money, printed by the various banks in Northern Ireland:

A Journey to the North

2011-04-24T06:51:00.010+01:00

I generally approach every travel experience in two ways: a breakdown of what we did, and a look at the differences and similarities in culture. Frankly, I'm a bit uncertain about doing the latter with Belfast, as it is naturally full of controversy... and how could I, after only 3 days know that much about Belfast.

So to start: the sights and sounds. The train ride was lovely... only €20 return (book one month in advance for these fares). Our bikes were locked into a special "guards car". And no, we didn't need our passports, and there weren't any security checks at the train station. Basically it was exactly like taking the train to Maynooth (even uses the same platform!). It's definitely easier to take the train to Northern Ireland (NI) than it would be to go between the USA and Canada. We only knew that we'd crossed the border because our cellphone sent us a text telling us of the change in service providers.

When you arrive in any new city it seems so busy, large and unfathomable. And arriving on bike with your toddler in tow makes it even more stressful to meager into new traffic patterns (mother bear instincts are on high alert). But NI has made a conscientious effort to encourage cycling. Bike lanes are everywhere. At the tourism information bureau (or Welcome Centre, as it's called) we were given a cycle map for Belfast, and maps for routes that are plotted all over Ulster (including down into the Republic. It was so well done, I'm not sure why Eire isn't copying this tourism cache. Ireland, honestly, has the BEST cycling of anywhere we've been, and considering our cycling touring record, that's saying A LOT).

So we spent one day on the Lagan and Lough cycle way. The hostess at Cherryville B&B recommended heading to Lisburn, but we thought the coast might be a nicer view. So we started out by heading along the coast to the North of Belfast... and after getting a bit lost amongst all the heavy the industry... we decided that perhaps Locals Know Best... so we turned around and headed upriver to Lisburn. That proved to be a much better idea. The route was completely car-free, and followed along rolling farmyards and a bird sanctuary. Lisburn itself doesn't have much to boast beyond a quaint shopping street. However, it did have the one thing we were looking for. A playground. Not just any playground. A complete "oh wow" style playground. And I would imagine it's the largest on this Island. It's as though the city council simply opened the playground catalogue and decided to take one of everything.

We also spent time in Belfast proper... doing a few of the touristy things. The shopping was good, but I'm not sure that the famously "lower prices" are exactly true. The Value Added Tax may be a bit lower... but with the loss in currency exchange, I don't think shopping in Belfast is all that is advertised. Besides which... the shopping district of Belfast seemed to be pretty much identical to that of Dublin... clearly a feat of our global market. (Though perhaps an appetite for change is in the air?)

Here's a laundry list of sites, which we visited:

-City Hall (a ridiculously ostentatious purpose built building). They had a small exhibit on the Titanic, and on the Blitz. Both interesting... but somehow lacking in substance.

-The Linen Hall Library (your basic library, Nikolai appreciated the children's section). They had a small exhibit on WWII and some political posters. Again, very small in scope.

-The Viewing Dome. This is located at the top of a shopping mall; thus it is free. It offers a nice view of the city, but it is only about 4 storey high.

-We ditched the pressure of a Black taxi tour (I couldn't see Nikolai sitting on my lap in a cab for an hour) and cycled the "peace line" ourselves. Perfectly safe to do so, though we did remove the Kildare flag from our trailer for the Unionist neighbourhoods.

-The Botanic Garden. A beautiful park, but no where near the scope of the Botanic Gardens in Dublin. However, it does have a very "hip vibe" (aren't I old?) as it's adjacent to Queen's University and was basically filled with sun-catching students.

Now for the photos... (never fear, I will probably give an opinionated piece on the city and politics in the next few days). Above is a picture of the beautiful bike path. Below I have a picture of City Hall, and a Dog Toilet. Since the City Hall is the most impressive building in Belfast, and I think everywhere should consider installing Dog Toilets!

A trip to middle earth

2011-04-18T14:20:00.005+01:00

Well, I decided to ACTUALLY test my abilities (and Nikolai's staying power) for our upcoming cycle tour in a more concrete way. So on Sunday we plotted a slightly more ambitious route to the Hill of Tara (64 km return).

Cycling in Ireland is a constant joy. Smaller roads abound, with beautiful rural scenery to enjoy at every turn, and best of all... the weather usually cooperates by being moderate in all regards. Cycling with a toddler involves endless questioning, particularly regarding "where is da hillatarra?" (and I'm not sure if that's toddler-ease, or a Hibernian accent).

For this particular trip we let Nikolai choose between riding in the trailer (behind Brad) or in the bike seat (behind me). We did this to see which he'd prefer for the eventual cycle tour. The overwhelming preference was for the seat on the back of my bike (and I don't think my shoulders will forgive me for the ride for a few days to come!) I figured that would be his preference as he can have a better view, and full conversational participation from the bike seat. Regardless, we'll still have to bring the trailer... because it's impossible to balance a sleeping toddler in a bike seat. But at least we know what it will take to keep him happy!

The Hill of Tara is not much more than a field filled with sheep (the visitor's centre, apparently, wont be opening until sometime closer to summer). But amongst the sheep dung, lambs and ewes lies a number of interesting mounds and troughs. An occasional marker has been stuck in the ground, to let you know that this mound was the royal throne or the mound of hostages.

However, the power and spirit of the location settles deeper than simple facts of historical locations. To start off with, from the hill you have a clear vantage stretching out to the horizon in all directions (to think I hauled a 35 lbs mass, bobbing on the back of my bike much like an off-kiltered gyroscope, up that hill!) It's reverence is evident from the historical importance of the location. Starting off as a prehistoric passage tomb, it then was the location for the Throne of Ireland, with over 142 kings reigning there in the pre-Christian eras. The location was said to be the sacred dwelling place for the gods, and a provided an entrance to the otherworld.

It is clear that Christan's also felt the power of the site, as St. Patrick went to the Hill of Tara to confront the pagans at their most sacred site. As well more recent Christan relics dot the site, and the visitors' Centre is actually located in a deconsecrated church.

Despite the gorgeous weather, it was the cafe and gift shop that were brimming with tourists and we invariably had the mounds mostly to ourselves.

The picture above is of the coronation stone (and yes, it was purposefully phallic in nature. The throne was not gained through inheritance, but rather through power). The picture below involved Brad "discovering" the wide screen option on our camera.

A mental break in the asylum

2011-04-15T14:30:00.000+01:00

Given the state of economic affairs in Ireland (ever dwindling, as we are back in a recessionary economy) hotels all over the country are offering deals. Since we are on the train line to Sligo, we thought a quick one night trip with Grammy and Panda was in order. The hotel deal included massages for all the guests... and had enough kid-centred to keep Nikolai happy too!

Most of my friends in Ireland travel to kid-centred vacation spots, especially on the continent. Perhaps these exist in Canada too (?) but certainly not to the same degree, as it seems that everyone who is going on holiday this summer will be heading to a family-"camp"-ground. (Camp only in name... since camping in Ireland is rarely the adventure that MEC provides for. They'll all be staying in cottages rather than a lightweight nylon tents.)

The Clarion hotel had a great leisure facilities, including a pool, mini-golf and a play room. They also have scheduled kid's activities (though only in high season). Having been to Sligo before, we were happy to hang out at the hotel. This time 'round we did eat at the infamous Hargadons Pub. Both would come highly recommended. The pub offered good traditional fare, the hotel offered some much needed R&R, and still had enough going on to keep Nikolai entertained!

There was only one slight pallor to the whole affair... and this pallor was brought about by Brad's natural curiosity and my vigorous imagination. The Clarion Hotel is located in a beautiful historic building. According to the marker stone, the building was built in 1847. But no other historical information is offered... not on their website... not in the lobby... not in the rooms. Clearly the background of the building was something they didn't want us to find out about. And despite the reluctance of the concierge when asked (I've never witnessed such avoidance before), Brad was finally able to get his hands on "The History of the Clarion Hotel Sligo".

And...

it was...

a Lunatic Asylum. Hum, Victorian era Lunatic Asylum does not generally make for easy ghosts. It also doesn't help that I've read The Secret Scripture, a supposedly true story with a poor view of the aforementioned asylum.

The next day my mother went into Keohanes bookshop to purchase the book, only to find out that it is the second book in a series. The first book The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty was not advertised as such because it didn't win the accolades that The Secret Scripture did. And publishers were worried that being the second book in a series would affect the sales of the award winning novel. I didn't find that my read of The Secret Scripture was lacking for not having read the first book. However, my mother now owns both books (I'm sure the bookshop purveyor's intention), so she should be able to give me a review in a few weeks time.

The picture above is from along the river in Sligo.

Below is a picture of some of the boarded up housing in Sligo. We saw a lot of this on our walk to the Clarion Hotel. One of the unfortunate causes of the current financial crisis was the lending of inappropriate mortgages.

From Hargadons Pub.

A typical view from the train. Rolling fields, livestock, and the quintessential piled stone fencing.

At one of the stations along the way (perhaps Mullingar?). The inscriptions reads "Keep the Pavement Dry". Any guesses what it's for? We can only speculate...

A quick Italian tour

2011-04-13T20:40:00.003+01:00

Last week I spent 3 nights in Udine, Italy for a conference on power line technology. It's the 15th iteration of this conference, and it shows in the tight communities within it. I had a great time, and connected with loads of academic and industry folk. The city itself was a treat to walk around too. Having come from Ireland, the contrasts were striking: the cafe culture resulting from the warm Mediterranean climate is so attractive to me, growing up in rural Canada. It's nearly the antithesis of the Irish pub culture, where people are holed up in cozy, warm and wooden rooms rather than the open stone piazzas of Italy. Of course they share the same social nature. Here's a photo sampling of my trip.

The main square in Udine.

The view North from the grounds of Udine Castle, of the Dolomites.

Town hall view from the Piazza della Libertà.

I took a few hours to walk around Venice before jumping on the plane too...

And a view of the Italian plains and Alps from on high.

A tour in rebellion

2011-04-12T14:34:00.010+01:00

This time 'round my parents came for a week, and have only just left this morning. With Claire in London, they've an agenda that involves seeing her as well. It is well worth reflecting that we are now very much locals (as compared to their trip last year) and as a result, it was a very different trip from their last one. We took them to all our favorite sights; we knew all the restaurants; and so the experience was much more about us showing them around, rather than playing the tourist ourselves.

To start with... a bit of a flashback... as Brad still promises an Italy-based blog (perhaps just a photo blog if he can eke out a minute to do it). Regardless he had a fab time, loved Udine, would recommend it for an "authentic" Italian experience, and (perhaps most importantly) he has a new interest in powerline research (and not just because they know how to wine and dine their presenters -- but a glass paired with each course in an 8 course meal certainly didn't hurt)!

While Brad was basking in the warmth of the Italian sunshine, Nikolai and I were entertaining Grammy and Panda. We took them to a few repeated locations, however we also went to a few novel, blog-worthy sights.

Glasnevin Cemetery (aka Prospect Cemetery): this is the largest cemetery in Dublin, and is easily seen from the train as you approach Drumcondra station. My mother has always been a bit of a cemetery person (this had disastrous consequences for Claire and I in the 1980's as we both are still completely terrified of ghosts) so she and I left Panda and Nikolai at home for a trip to the cemetery. It was a very interesting cemetery, in regards to those involved in the uprising. As either everyone is buried there, or they have a monument mark their death. Despite having over 1 million graves, the cemetery is not that old... as prior to 1824 Catholics were not allowed to bury their dead in a cemetery. ...Honestly... it's no wonder the cemetery is full of rebellion leaders.

The National Botanic Gardens: touted to contain over 20 000 different plant species, including 4,000 rare specimens. It does sound a bit like an old lady (the blue haired kind, not the hip Grammy kind!!) looking at boring flowers, including XX number of roses, some gardenias and orchids. In fact it was hardly a destination for us, other than it happened to fall directly on our path to the Glasnevin cemetery. As a result we only got to do a quick poke around, but I certainly want to go back! Originally created in 1795, the greenhouses and landscaped lawns make you feel very Victorian. Kid gloves, fancy hats and parasols would not be out of place. Plant species are well marked, and organized into themes, including: world foods, (who's seen Cassava before?) cacti, mosses, etc.

Kilmanim Gaol: Brad and I did this on our own, while my parents visited the National Museum of Ireland with Nikolai. It was all that you can imagine... and very Charles Dickson esque. Incarceration peaked during the famine, as even begging was made illegal. People were being executed for steeling bread, and children as young as 8 being locked up with the adults. Coupled with overcrowded conditions, no window panes for "ventilation" and prisoners being kept on a starvation diet (easier to control), disease and death was rampant. The tour also focused on the leaders of the 5 uprisings as many (all?) were incarcerated at gaol. Of note, many of the rebellion leaders were actually Protestants (i.e. Pearse)... as Catholics were not allowed to be educated. The tour was a bit packed (50 pple) so my only recommendation would be to go on a weekday as I'm sure you would learn more from a tour with a smaller crowd.

NUIM Russell Library: this houses the pre 1850's collection... and it's pretty neat. However, only an NUIM student or employee can get in (though they can bring guests); and you have to pre-book an appointment in order to get in. The library has a pretty hefty collection, with a number of items on display. If you're keen to peruse some historical books, check out their blog for a virtual tour. To continue on our theme of rebellion, we also learned that St. Patrick's college only came into existence because the British feared that Catholic priests going abroad to be educated may be planted with the seeds of rebellion. Given the state of the Penal Laws against the catholics at the time, Catholic priests were pretty much espionage artists anyways. Well, the British decided that allowing Catholic priests to be educated in Ireland would at least enable them to have "inspections" of the college.

Brad had the camera in Italy, so I'll have to wait till my mom sends me some photos... but the above photo is a hint of what we did next.

Getting ready to cycle tour

2011-04-03T14:26:00.004+01:00

In my last blog post I may have touched on the subject of the upcoming stress tests... and their importance... so I guess I should follow up on them. But the result was dismal. And for some reason the government has failed to do anything remotely useful about the issue. So the Irish population now owns 4 useless banks and non-existent tax monies will magically pay the bond holders thanks to at least two lifetimes of debt to the IMF. Needless to say, I don't much feel like blogging about this.

On a happier note, we have started the preparations for our next mini-cycle tour! This started with buying me a bike (I returned the borrowed one) one sale from the 2010 stock. It's a pretty skookum (a BC term meaning fast water... but used to indicated coolness) ride. I've talked a few friends into going on evening rides with me, and have a stated goal of a 40km ride at least once a week.

Yes, 40 km.

Now to some of you, that might seem like a lot. However, to those who know us better, it's a bit of a WTF (meaning huh?) as we usually run at 60-80 km in a day. But when you add a busy toddler into the mix, touring becomes more of a 40-50km day... because while we're quite busy cycling... Nikolai is quite... well... bored. He's usually good for an hour of sleep, but that's only 20 km worth of cycling. The remaining time is spent goofing around in his trailer, or enjoying the view from the bike seat (not much view available from a trailer).

Furthermore, after a nice two hour cycle, though we may be ready for a break, Nikolai is ready to burn some pent-up energy (add another two hours of exercise).

Anyways, today is Mothering Sunday!!! My day for a lie-in, breakfast in bed, a day free from chores! But alas, not for me... Brad is having a jet-set moment and is off for a conference in Udine, Italy (warm, sunny days, pizza, pasta, espresso, whine --Freudian slip--). With my parents arriving tomorrow... today is two loads of laundry, cleaning the bathroom, giant grocery shop, etc, etc.

But we foresaw this miss adventure of a Mothering Sunday (Mother's Day comes early 'round here). So yesterday was my day off and we took a family cycle to Howth (leaving from Drummcondra Station). And I cannot recommend this route enough.

1. It's dead flat.
2. Most of it is on bicycle lanes separated from traffic, with the remainder in a bike lane.
3. It follows the coast of Dublin harbour nearly the whole way.

A Free Dublin Tour

2011-03-30T12:55:00.003+01:00

For her latest trip, Claire brought a friend along with her... and left for Galway almost immediately upon her arrival. (She and her friend were volunteering as support workers with the Galway Cycle, as they are both friends with this year's organizing team. Brad was interested in cycling... but he was taking a weekend course at the Ryan Academy.)

Never fear, she was back in time for her birthday! But that left her friend only one day with which to see Dublin... what to do? what... to... do...? (Enter stage left... the Free Dublin Tour!) And it comes highly recommended. It's a three hour tour... for which the tour guide is only paid in tips. And our tour guide (aside: apparently an NUIM alumni) worked hard to earn his tips. I think the mother company makes their money by subtly recommending hostels, pubs and eating establishments. It's not a thick sell in the least, but you do take a coffee break at a pub (thousands of coffee shops in Dublin... so I imagine the pub pays for the privilege), then finish at a different pub (with a 10% off discount for those on the tour!)

I learned... so much and everything was covered... from the pop-y (Courtney Love attend Trinity!) to the historical (the statue of Justice at Dublin castle was a statement from the British... Justice is not blind, she has her back to the people, and is holding up a sword. Naturally the British wouldn't have wanted the Irish to think that Justice was defending them!). I could go on... regardless it is now on my HIGHLY RECOMMENDED list for anyone traveling to any major European city.

Now to deal with some other pertinent items:

1. The results of the Irish banking stress tests are to be revealed tomorrow. They have the potential to change everything around here. Unfortunately the news today is predicting poor results. So the questions is... how many billions of euros are Irish going to give up to the banks and investors before they start to balk. Hopefully Enda Kenny knows the answer to THAT question... regardless tomorrow will be an interesting and potentially bleak day.

2. I had quite a bit of advice around Claire's cheesecake, and ended up using this recipe; which basically involved making a sweet souffle where cheese was the main component. It was really, really tasty. But it wasn't cheesecake. I guess I'll have to give it another shot next year!

Irish Census

2011-03-22T13:41:00.002Z

This week we're in for a boring post... but I assure you, very few boring posts will follow in the next few months. We are neigh on fully booked till mid-June now, so I will certainly have lots to say (the hard part will be finding the time to say it)! It all starts this weekend with the return of Claire and my attempt at making a goat cheesecake, as her birthday request.

Anyways, the Irish census is: statistic-y, comprehensive, historical in scope... and actually rather interesting if you have a brain that operates anything like mine. What's more... we'll be having one on April 10th (that's right, Mom & Dad you will be noted forever in Irish history as having been a tourist on that date). I've decided that the best way to approach a topic that is so statistical in scope is to provide straight forward FACTS:

1. This will be the 24th census, since 1841 (trust the Brits to start something so organized... but I guess you need some way to keep tabs on potentially rogue populations).

2. EVERYONE must participate... or "be subject to a fine of up to €25,000). -Not sure if that includes tourists... but our enumerator let us know that our parents would be counted... and because we'll be spending that night in a hotel in Sligo, we will fill out the census in Sligo.

3. It is literally a snapshot of where everyone in the country is on that date. So you only exist in one location on that night (we'll be in Sligo, so we fill out a form in Sligo, not in Maynooth). However, if we were out of the country we would have to fill out a different form... so we would still be counted... just not in Ireland at that time.

4. It is a VERY long form census. Now there's been a bit of news in Canada lately about the long-form census, but I can't imagine it was this long. There are three pages of questions about our HOUSE (from the year built... to type of heating... to the cost... to Internet access). Then there are three pages of information for EACH PERSON in the house (including Nikolai). Questions range from the usual: income, occupation, religion; to a bit more personal: health, commuting (to work), residences (we've lived in Canada). I'm interested to see how we're counted in Sligo... but I guess it's one way of making sure everyone is counted!

5. If you like to play around in historical stats, or if you want to look up your Irish heritage, you can find the 1901 and 1911 census's here.

6. If you work for the government of Canada and are interested in seeing what the Irish census form looks like (though I'm not advocating plagiarism) you can find it here.

7. Lastly, if you want to get lost in the nitty-gritty boring numbers... or want to look at pretty charts (in the pdf reports)... then you can look at the more recent results here. I had a bit of fun poking around myself. I found out that the number of people biking to work has decreased steadily since 1986, with a small increase in 2006; in 2006, there were between 1000 and 10000 Canadians in Ireland. And I am very keen to see the results of this year's census (I wonder if their hiring data analysts?).

The picture is of the Sinn Fein Party offices... already gearing up for the first royal visit since 1911. And we'll be getting Obama too... May certainly will be busy!

St. Patrick's Day Parade

2011-03-18T14:44:00.004Z

Here's a photo blog of the first hour of the parade. We arrived an hour early, and befriended someone else there with a two-year-old... thus we wound up with front row seats! A big advantage for viewing, but Nikolai couldn't handle the noise of the bands and float speakers.

The theme of the parade was a short story commissioned by Roddy Doyle. You can download it here: Brilliant. So each "float" depicted a chapter of the story. In summary: "a black dog of doom and gloom is chased away by some children." Clearly a hopeful message for Ireland! But the Gothic and graphic nature of the floats proved to be a bit much for Nikolai who spent most of the parade hiding... thus we left early (but that was our plan anyways, as we wanted to beat the crowds to lunch!)

A view of the crowds looking down O'Connell (at the Spire).

Nikolai and I awaiting the parade (I think the last 15 minutes were the longest of his life).

Saint Patrick in green shades.

Chapter 1 (not so frightening)

Much to Brad's delight, chopper bicycles were used to pull nearly all the floats (except the talking Napoleon boot was pulled by a tractor... not sure of the significance... must read the story meself).

Chapter 2 was all in neon.

The black dog of doom and gloom was being whipped by some very grotesque burlesque dancers.

Not so good for Nikolai's fear of trophy heads.

This would have been fine, if it weren't for the wolves frightening all the pj clad folk, who were screaming and running away.

The Beauty and The Beast

2011-03-16T06:29:00.006Z

As our weather dawns bright and warm; spring flowers are blooming, rows of radishes are sprouting in the allotment (this year we're sharing a garden plot with four others gardeners -the plots are pretty big), and farmer Roger's lambs are out in the field with the ewes. And since it is the Eve of St. Patrick's Day, the town is preparing for tomorrow with full regalia. Nikolai's watched St. Mary's Band practice for the parade by marching up Main Street, the Presentation Girls school students dancing to traditional music on the lawn in front of the school, and even the NUIM creche (daycare) was out marching around banging on drums. Tomorrow we will be heading to the parade in Dublin, so I hope that a photo blog will follow shortly.

All this springtime joy and Irish Pride (much more pronounced then last year... likely due to the new beginnings with a new government, which, as a pleasant surprise, has already proved its mettle in talks with the EU) has led me in a quest to finally test the culinary uses of Stinging Nettle. (It didn't hurt that Rosie at the farmers' market had sold out of spinach by the time I got there on Saturday.) Regardless, it took me 3 attempts to make something edible out of the nettle, and so I provide you with the following advice...

How to prepare Stinging Nettle for consumption:

1. Only pick young nettle. (I tried a meal in August and we were all basically "stung" while eating). If you continuously pick from the same patch you will probably be able to extend the life of the young nettle well into the summer.

2. Wear rubber gloves, boots and long sleeves for harvesting (no sense being stung while harvesting!)

3. Avoid picking from roadsides, as dirt and exhaust will make the nettle less than appetizing. We picked our nettle from Carton Ave and around the Maynooth Allotments.

4. Wash and pick the leaves off the stems... while still wearing those rubber gloves (the stems are too fibrous to be fun to eat, even pureed).

5. Prepare in any way that you would use spinach... as long as it's cooked you wont be stung.

And while stinging nettle soup is the most popular dish, I also can recommend putting leaves on pizza, using them in an omelet or souffle, or creating a nettle and cheese dip!

Here's a recipe that's a variation on the basic nettle soup (potatoes, stock and cream)... which is more of an Indian subj.

In 1 tbsp of oil, fry a chopped brown onion until lightly browned. Add 2 cloves of garlic, 1 tsp of cumin, 1 tsp garam masala, 1 1/2 tsp mustard seed and 1/2 tsp turmeric and fry until fragrant. Add 1/2 cup of red lentils, 2 cups of stock and 3 cups of prepared nettle leaves. Simmer until the lentils are cooked, then salt to taste (I used 1/2 tsp of salt).

So why bother going through all the trouble of using stinging nettle when spinach is sooo much easier?

-it's free.
-it's healthier than spinach.
-it has that cache of "je ne sais quoi" when being served to guests.

The scales featured in the photo are a wedding gift from Brad's sister in Australia (THANKS SO MUCH DINA!!).

Now, for something a bit more somber... every morning I wake up to find out what has happened in Japan . The scope of devastation is unreal. The result is such that even the news broadcasters are unable to convey the nature of fear, loss and destruction with anything beyond simple statistics. I wish to send out my love and sympathy to all my friends and family in Japan.

A heathen on Ash Wednesday

2011-03-09T14:21:00.006Z

Yes, I'm a heathen, and a fairly ignorant one at that (thanks Mom and Dad). And while Brad is a well-educated Doukhobor, we are both fairly clueless when it comes to Catholic traditions.

Yesterday was Pancake Day. And I duly served a meal of buckwheat crepes with spinach and cheese sauce. Our student ate store bought pancakes with sugar and lemon (having seen the huge displays of lemon, sugar and pancakes in all our local grocery stores I was pretty certain that he'd prefer the more traditional approach to Pancake Day.) Tried some out myself and the lemon juice addition wasn't half bad!

Today is Ash Wednesday. I don't know what planet I was living on last year... but it took until this year for me to figure out what the "ash" part of Wednesday meant. I first noticed the black smudge on one of Nikolai's friends and assumed it was a typical patch of toddler dirt. Then I noticed her mom and her baby sister had the same smudges. It was like a light bulb lit up in my brain and all of a sudden I was seeing black smudges on everyone! At the moment I'm feeling very medieval and plague-ish about the whole thing. Perhaps everyone will figure out my ignorance..? ...and I don't know where to look.... It's impossible to avoid the smudges now that I've seen them... but is it rude to look? Needless to say there have been a few awkward moments of trying not to stare...

So I've decided to stay inside and use the Internet to figure out the meaning of this very public display of Catholicism.

And I've decided to start sharing some Irish recipes in this run up to St. Patrick's Day. Unfortunately, our local weather forecaster, The Donegal Postman (so infamous that I hear about him from absolutely everyone, including the weatherman on my morning radio), is predicting snow for St. Patrick's Day... and given his Infamy, I guess it must me true.

Anyways, this past weekend I finally braved my better judgement and broached the subject of my Carrageenan (Irish) Moss. I first purchased this last year in the excitement for something new. However, the seaweedness of the moss caused me to loose my resolve, and I remained pretty uncertain about the whole thing... (all my tastings during the cooking process were pretty fishy-tasting) until Nikolai tasted the pudding. Seconds were provided, and with no thirds left to dishout, I realized that I may expand my repertoire beyond the very typical milk-based puddings made of the Irish Moss.

Using Irish Moss:

1. Make sure the seaweed is well washed of sand, dirt, etc. Then allow it to dry naturally in a paper bag.

2. Before use soak for ten minutes in tepid water to get rid of any remaining salt, grime etc.

3. Simmer in liquid of your choice.

4. Strain and chill. (My pudding solidified without even being put in the fridge).

NOTE: one ounce of dried Irish moss will gel one cup of liquid.

SIMPLE PUDDING RECIPE
(and this recipe is completely my own... I couldn't really find any pudding recipes that sounded promising. Irish moss was discovered as a food source during the famine, and thus puddings were traditionally made with very little sugar. And all the recipes I found only used fruit to sweeten, though a few recipes used Irish moss to set a "cheese" flavored with herbs. Anyways, the only stories of Irish moss pudding I've heard generally included the words "disgusting" and "inedible" in the descriptions. But I assure you that this recipe is fully vetted by my 2 year old.)

1. Soak a handful of dried Irish moss for 10 minutes in tepid water.

2. Drain and add to 2 cups of milk. Bring to a boil then simmer for 20 minutes (careful not to scald the milk).

3. Strain through a fine sieve, careful to squeeze out all the Irish Moss "jelly" into the pudding.

4. Add 2-3 tbsp of sugar and stir to ensure the sugar dissolves into the milk.

5. Flavor with 1 tsp of vanilla. This pudding tastes like a simple vanilla custard. I would recommend serving it with fruit or a cake.

Lastly, I'd like to finish with a few reasons to consider using Irish Moss.

-a vegetarian/vegan alternative to gelatin, which is cheaper than Agar, and sets without sugar (unlike many pectins).
-Can be used to replace egg whites in vegan foods (soak for 36 hours in the fridge, until it's clear and puffy, then blend into a paste)
-Pretty nutritious (like all sea vegetables)
-and it's part of your Irish heritage! (Aren't we all a wee bit Irish sometimes?)

The revenge of the fairy folk

2011-03-01T13:37:00.009Z

This past weekend we went to the National Leprechaun Museum! Which was definitely more enjoyable for us than for Nikolai. I would describe it as more of an art exhibit that focuses on relaying Irish folkloric history. Nikolai found much of it to be frightening. He did really like the stories of folklore... it was just kid's exhibit of exploring the giant's home that he found way too frightening. It also didn't help that moving from room to room required walking through long dark corridors with echoing "leprechaun" music playing throughout.

Again, we got our tickets through a group-on, and I would say the price is only right; if you really like the folklore. And I did really like the folklore. Apparently Walt Disney created all the imagery that you know about leprechauns and faeries; and he got a lot of it wrong. The tales abound, and you can find a few of them by exploring the museum's website.

However, today I am going to applied what I learned at the Leprechaun Museum to explain Ireland's current financial crisis... Let's start with a few interesting fairy facts:

1. It's a misnomer to imagine that fairies are small pink creatures with wings... in fact Irish fairies look just like us, are the same size as us, and basically do human things... the only difference is that they are magical.

2. Fairies are bitter towards humans because when they landed in Ireland (along with all the other magical creatures -Tuatha Dé Danann-) the Gaelic people defeated them in war... and all the magical creatures were sent live underground. Their only access to the human realm is at night, in the hills, in the fairy forests, and in the wells (hence wishing wells).

3. Fairies are known for stealing all the brightest and best away and replacing them with changelings (perhaps this happened to most everyone in the Department of Finance?).

4. Fairies are also known to pay for things with fairy money which would basically turn into something useless, like dead leaves, once the transaction was complete... and perhaps you are starting to see my point?

Fairies are: identical to humans, bitter at being forced to live underground, and good at making money disappear. Sounds fairly similar to some of the heads of AIB, Anglo and Irish nationwide... I suspect that the Tuatha Dé Danann are taking their own out on the Irish population. There's only one way to prove this... fairies HATE anything dirty... so we need to reenact the tradition of spitting in our hands before shaking on deal. It's unfortunate that the 20th century fascination with cleanliness has resulted in such an economic disaster. I'd be willing to bet that David Drumm would balk at being asked to shake a dirty hand... yup... 100% fairy.

Boring election results

2011-02-28T13:51:00.009Z

If only the election results were a tad bit more exciting... sigh... regardless I'm still required to finish the story of the Irish Elections 2011.

Fine Gael won a minority government and they are in talks with Labour. As predicted, blah, blah, blah. So looking into my crystal ball I see more social service cuts in the future, higher taxes and a host of boring TV clips from the uncharismatic primary school teacher who is now responsible for the mess that is the Irish economy. Ech. How can Enda Kenny deal with the unaffordable interest rates, the white collar criminals whose deceit has impoverished the nation, and a high rate of unemployment? Perhaps a bit of a background in economics or law would have helped...

The whole mess is a giant, unsustainable, cataclysm of mess, that will not end well unless SOMEONE, with a dogged determination to take the most logical solution to the Irish Problem, steps in to provide effective leadership. Sigh, sigh, sigh.

The photo is poetically titled: Brad and Nikolai searching the horizon.

The Elections

2011-02-25T18:11:00.003Z

Today is GE 2011! And a media blackout on the elections doesn't require the parties to take down their election campaign signs. However, coverage of the election results will have to wait until tomorrow (and likely will continue until Monday) as all the ballots are hand counted. With the STV system, this hand counting becomes more complex. The first choice votes are counted first, then the second choice, etc. Obviously some shortcuts can be taken if a candidate is either overwhelmingly popular, or completely underwhelmingly neglected.

The other fun announcement on this morning's news was that the bank accounts from Anglo-Irish Bank and Irish Nationwide were transferred to AIB and Permanent TSB. For the average person this means that your bank account at a failing bank was moved (completely unchanged) to another bank (sightly less failing... though in AIB's circumstance that is not entirely assured). Perhaps this news coming out on election day was set to help the faltering Finna Fail party? Hard to imagine anything helping them out...

And here's a link to help figure out who YOU should vote for! ;-)

Claire's adventues and coincidences

2011-02-22T13:06:00.006Z

Claire's visit over this weekend, gave us the chance to catch up... and party!

To start of with, Claire has moved into a rundown old Victorian house in Clapham. Where she lives with 5 other roommates (three Aussie men --by complete coincidence, they are all named Matt--, an Irish woman, and an English woman). She is rapidly expanding her circle of London based acquaintances, and is once again enjoying a full and busy social life.

So she was very happy to have a quite night in on Friday, allowing Brad and I to go out to Mantra with our friends. (Don't worry, she went out to Mantra on Saturday with her friends).

The weekend bloomed beautifully with the first sunny heat of spring. We spent Saturday hiking around Phoenix Park, and greatly enjoyed the tour of the Presidential Palace and the Park Visitor's centre. We'll have to go back after Easter for a proper tour of Farmleigh, Ashtown Castle and the Victorian Walled garden.

Sunday we set off for a exploratory cycle ride (with Claire "testing" a bike that Brad was rehabilitating for a friend). Our original goal was Arthur Guinness's grave... which was located at the top of one of the foothills to the Wicklow Mountains... after which we were going to ride into the Avoca in Naas for lunch. I nearly died of starvation on the way up the hill, so we never made it to the grave site. We did however bump into the Lyons Estate on the way down the hill. A lovely lunch, with a short poke about the estate and we now have a new favorite spot! (The scones are literally the size of Nikolai's head).

Now to end with a story of Amazing Coincidences.

Before leaving for London, Claire received e-tickets for 3 to the Cirque du Soleil in London. She tried to figure out who gave them to her... and who she was supposed to take... but after an unsuccessful search she called the ticket agent. She was told that a woman with a British accent booked the tickets. And that was the only information provided. Now Claire did not know any British women at the time, and couldn't figure it out at all.

Nevertheless, the day came for Claire to go to Cirque, she printed out the tickets, choose 2 of her London friends to accompany her, and set off to meet her mysterious benefactor... ? ...only to be rejected at the gate. Apparently a Clare Parrish booked the tickets, and this Clare has nearly the same e-mail address as my sister Claire (literally just minus the "i"). So Cirque's French-biased typo resulted in Claire receiving tickets that were not for her. When the real Clare called to find out where her tickets went; Cirque failed to let my sister Claire know that her tickets were no longer valid. And bad on Cirque... as they have yet to even apologies for the mix up! At least Claire now knows where her missing e-mails may be going! I think she should call up the Clare Parrish from Bristol and invite her for tea!

Above is Claire and Nikolai with the Papal cross (1.25 million people came to see the Pope in 1979). In the photo below we're trekking across a field to the President's Palace.