Gotta start making changes

Finally the weekend again. It didn’t feel like a bank holiday week at all (only four workdays), in fact it felt just as long or longer than a normal working week. Well, only 15 business days to go at my current job!

I left off last time talking about going out on Sunday night with my flatmates Sabrina and Shelley. We went out to this pub/club called d|two, which I’d never heard of before. It’s really quite cool as there is a pubby kind of place on the ground floor, and a big beer garden (with heaters thankfully) and downstairs in the basement there’s a club with a dancefloor (albeit a small one). Most everyone was dressed up for Halloween which was great to see. There were some awesome costumes including Robin (of Batman and Robin fame) Tigger (of Winnie the Pooh fame), a carton of milk, the guys from Top Gun, a fluffy bunny (I’m sure they must have been a Buffy fan) and Sabrina’s favourite, a pint of Guinness. I didn’t take many pictures as I put my camera in the cloakroom after a bit so I could dance, but there will be some below, soon. Unfortunately I left the URL of the page they're on at home, so I can't link to them at the moment. Check back later in the week and I'll add them to the end of this post. You can all thank your respective lords that I have finally figured out the art of thumbnailing, so hopefully the page will load somewhat quicker than previous.

Anyway the place was loads of fun, playing all my favourite kinds of club music. When I’m out dancing I need radio pop at the beginning (Britney, Christina, Destiny’s Child and the like), then later in the evening when it’s winding down it’s time for some classics (Footloose, Walking on Sunshine, Hey Mickey etc). I would never sit down and listen to this stuff at home, or see it at a concert, but that’s what I like to dance to when I go out, and they provided that in buckets. We all danced all night till the club closed, at 3am. Then we walked all the way home from the southside to the northside, with Shelly’s shoes torturing her to death every step of the way (the reason I only ever wear flats).

Actually, that night was the first night it really hit home to me the difference between the north and south sides of Dublin. In my head I’ve always known that the south is more upmarket than the north, and that’s certainly reflected in the architecture, but I’ve never seen such a marked difference in the people as that night. As we walked home along Harcourt and Grafton Streets (southside) there were loads of people walking home, minding their own business, and the few that did talk to us were friendly and polite (if a little drunk). The second we crossed O’Connell bridge, it was like we stepped into another world. The whole atmosphere of the environment changed, suddenly there were crowds of menacing looking guys standing around, there were “fooking”s and “bollocks”s flying everywhere, and everything and everybody just seemed more grimy and dishevelled. I found it totally weird and quite disconcerting, as I’m kind of pinkish politically (not quite red) and such bold class divisions make me uncomfortable. Not even in England, the most classist society ever, did they strike me so, although to be fair I only spent five days there!

I did meet a handsome management consultant by the name of Tom at the club (who reminded me somewhat of Dylan Moran from Black Books), but he never called me. Stuff him, I’m not waiting by the phone! It does puzzle me why men make all the effort to chat you up, charm you, ask for your number and then totally disregard it. I imagine it’s because he went out Monday night and met another girl!

In completely unrelated news, I’ve started running. Well, that’s not quite true. It’s more like a slow jog – I don’t want to kill myself in the first week. I feel so lazy sitting in a chair all day, and my cardiovascular fitness has probably deteriorated quite seriously as I haven’t set foot in a gym since I left Melbourne. I can’t afford a gym membership here, but the streets are free, if somewhat polluted. That’s the one thing I don’t like about running - when I take a deep breath to provide oxygen to my wailing muscles, all I get is carbon monoxide and secondhand smoke from all the people standing outside pubs and at bus stops smoking. Yummy. But it’d take me a half hour to walk to St. Stephen’s Green to run for 15 minutes, which doesn’t make much sense. Oh well, in a few months I’ll hopefully be able to run to St. Stephen’s Green and back.

Friday night I went to see an Aussie band, “Architecture in Helsinki”. I was going to go with my mate Ceri (whom I met at Jon Spencer) but she had to work at the last minute and so I ended up going by myself. I was a bit worried when they came out onto the stage as they looked suspiciously like the band that played before “Icecream Hands” that night I went to see “The Whitlams” in Melbourne (do you remember them Meags?) who totally sucked. I’m still not entirely convinced it wasn’t the same band but if it was it doesn’t matter because they rocked. It took them a little bit to get going but when they did they showed us a great time. It was a bit of an eclectic ensemble – an eight piece featuring 2 keyboards, guitar, bass, drums, trumpet, 2 trombones and random percussion like triangle, cowbell, tambourine and that thing with the metal beads on it that you shake and it makes a “dsh dsh” sound. So I guess it was kind of like a mini “Polyphonic Spree”, sans colourful monk outfits.

Saturday was kind of quiet and boring, thankfully. I’m taking my weekends easy at the moment, conserving my energy for the last few weeks at work. I watched a bit of television last night – the more I watch the more I’m convinced that when I get my own place I’m banning television. It seems harsh, but really there’s nothing worth watching aside from the news and documentaries, which contain information readily available from print media. Even the news here is irritating and biased, as we get the Sky News feed from the UK. It’s not as bad as CNN, but since they try so hard to ape the US news in every single way, sometimes it seems the only difference is the British accents. I miss SBS World News! You can easily substitute documentaries with books, news with newspapers, and boom! No reason for a television. I admit, sometimes television can produce some real gems – “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (and spinoffs), “Good News Week” (in the good old days when it was on the ABC), “Monty Python” and does anyone remember “Mcallum” the fantastic drama about a forensic pathologist starring the oddly sexy John Hannah? But these gems are few and far between, and sandwiched in the middle are programs devoid of reason or emotion – vacant time-wasters such as “Pimp my Ride” and “The Simple Life”. What can these programs teach us about ourselves? They do have one use, and that is the opportunity they provide to completely switch off our brains while watching them. This “brain rest” can be invaluable, particularly after a difficult day, but I don’t think it’s healthy to have your brain switched off for much of the time.

Today I discovered a new park, the Iveagh Gardens behind Harcourt Street. They’re tiny, and well hidden, maybe Dublin’s best-kept secret. There’s a waterfall, perfectly manicured lawns, some statues, and thankfully very few people. It’s the perfect place for some solitude as it’s pretty, peaceful, and only a 35 minute walk from my flat. While I was there, I took some time for quiet reflection, and made a big discovery about myself. For so long I thought that I was a person that didn’t like change, or didn’t cope well with it for some reason. I thought I was happiest when I had a routine, knew what to expect every day, did the things I knew I liked, saw my friends, and lived life in a little bubble. And I was relatively happy, or rather comfortable. But coming here, and travelling so much, and planning yet more travels, I’ve found that was a fallacy. I’m happiest when I’m planning my next adventure, or better yet, having it. I feel more “true to myself” (sorry for the 70’s hippy flower-power speak, but that’s just the way it is) when I’m moving somewhere, figuratively as well as literally. Change still scares the pants off me, but now I know it will invigorate and educate me, and I feel like I know myself well enough to cope with just about anything life throws at me. Thus I can throw myself fearlessly into new and exciting escapades with the knowledge that I can circumvent just about any obstacle and learn something about myself and life in the process. What more can you ask from life?

That said, I’m reinstating my original plan for South America. Sod the expense, I’m going to Peru. I’ll spend about four weeks in Buenos Aires reacquainting myself with my family, I’ll get to spend my first Christmas with them since we moved to Australia (something I’m looking forward to more than you can imagine) and New Year too, then on the 9th of January I’m off to Lima where I’ve got about 10 days to explore Lima, Cusco, Machu Picchu and the Inca trail. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since high school, and I’m tremendously excited. The hike takes four days and costs about three hundred euro, which I should be able to afford. January is the worst time to go, since the weather is hot and wet, but I don’t care. In my experience of hiking, suffering increases the satisfaction level achieved at the end. I feel like it’d be criminal to waste this opportunity and this aeroplane ticket, which is already paid for. After Peru it’s on to Los Angeles, Denver, New York, and back home to Dublin. By that time it’ll be around the 16th of February or so, and I will have spent over two months holidaying. It strikes me as completely extravagant to take such a long holiday, but this is why I’m here – travelling is my raison d'être at this point in my life. Next on the hitlist after I get back to Dublin and have fattened up my emaciated bank balance is either Italy or Rejkyavik, Iceland, I haven’t decided which yet. Then on to Barcelona for a year of work and perfecting my Spanish, hopefully with lots more adventures in between (gotta squeeze Cuba and Morocco in there somewhere, as well as a million other places). Such is the life of a citizen of the world!