5.9.10
Dublin.
11:38 PM | 
Posted by
Maj
Alright, let's do this.
J'ai mon voyage!
After walking down to the Brussels-Midi station with my gigantor suitcase at approximately 3:30 in the morning, I got on a bus which brought me to the "Brussels South" Charleroi Airport (which is about an hour South of Brussels.) I'd never been to an airport which dealt pretty much exclusively with discount flights, nor had I flown RyanAir before. Oh, and hey:
I did something which is (according to Jonas) rather unusual: I paid an extra € 35 to bring a piece of checked luggage with me on a RyanAir flight, since I knew I'd be bringing a load of my own books (along with some from the library) with me to Dublin. Well, it turns out this extra piece of luggage was supposed to be quite light -- 15kg, to be exact (which you make surprisingly quickly when you're lugging around a million philosophy texts, a ton of jewelry (just plain stupid, really...) and the biggest laptop known to man.) When I got to the check-in counter and had my luggage weighed, the woman helping me out was shocked I'd brought -- wait for it -- 24 kilos worth of crap with me, just in my checked luggage. Thankfully, I was able to move some of the heavier stuff from the luggage into my carry-on backpack, but I still ended up being 4 kilos over. That wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that you get charged an extra € 20 per kilo over. So much for my cheap flight!
Camden
Food is also stupidly expensive in Dublin. Consider: David came into town one night. We went to Temple Bar (the entertainment, errr... square?) He bought a shitty hotdog (and I mean shitty. We're talking a-Red-Hot-in-a-bun, $1-IKEA-hotdog shitty) for € 5. I couldn't believe it. I actually had to walk away from the vendor's stand as David was waiting for his food because I couldn't stop laughing. Who the hell pays €5 for a hotdog? No wonder Ireland's a mystery to economists.
Finally, I was super pumped to see there's Tim Hortons coffee in Ireland but THEY DO NOT HAVE FRENCH VANILLA WTF. Nor do they carry Timbits. They do, however, have weird crap which isn't served in Canada. (I can't recall what sort of crap it was, probably because the whole Irish Tim Hortons experience was traumatizing.)
Friends
I'd chosen to go to Ireland largely because I thought I'd be reuniting with Buggle and Pierce (they'd agreed to come visit, after all), so I became more and more bummed out that they were not likely going to make it to Dublin. Thankfully, it wasn't all bad. For those of you who remember that insane story about Kofman and I in Montreal (if you haven't heard the story, remind me to tell you!!)... well, now, it looks like things are totally normal between us. We got along super well despite the fact that we were sharing a room only slightly larger than my container, which came as a huge surprise. And as always, it was nice to really shoot the philosophical shit with him. I even got to contribute to the paper he was presenting (a bit of ethical-political philosophy concerning the West's moral obligations (or the lack thereof) to religious Filipino single mothers), which was uplifting. :) I'm also glad I got to spend some time with David, who turned out to be a decent, likeable guy. It's nice to learn something new. ;)
J'ai mon voyage!
After walking down to the Brussels-Midi station with my gigantor suitcase at approximately 3:30 in the morning, I got on a bus which brought me to the "Brussels South" Charleroi Airport (which is about an hour South of Brussels.) I'd never been to an airport which dealt pretty much exclusively with discount flights, nor had I flown RyanAir before. Oh, and hey:
Do NOT fly RyanAir with sizeable luggage.
REALLY.
I did something which is (according to Jonas) rather unusual: I paid an extra € 35 to bring a piece of checked luggage with me on a RyanAir flight, since I knew I'd be bringing a load of my own books (along with some from the library) with me to Dublin. Well, it turns out this extra piece of luggage was supposed to be quite light -- 15kg, to be exact (which you make surprisingly quickly when you're lugging around a million philosophy texts, a ton of jewelry (just plain stupid, really...) and the biggest laptop known to man.) When I got to the check-in counter and had my luggage weighed, the woman helping me out was shocked I'd brought -- wait for it -- 24 kilos worth of crap with me, just in my checked luggage. Thankfully, I was able to move some of the heavier stuff from the luggage into my carry-on backpack, but I still ended up being 4 kilos over. That wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that you get charged an extra € 20 per kilo over. So much for my cheap flight!
I felt better once I'd arrived in Dublin, though. Since I'd spent the night before sweltering in Jonas' apartment, alternating between avoiding heatstroke (by opening the windows) and insomnia ('cause when those windows are open, downtown Brussels light and noise pours into the room...), it was relieving to disembark in sunny, 12° weather. That, combined with the fact that there were maple trees and English signs everywhere, made me feel right at home. :D
Camden
I decided to go to Dublin party because Daniel Kofman would be there for a conference, and we'd spoken about meeting up in Europe many times before. I hadn't planned on staying with him originally, but since I was exhausted and out € 80, I decided to take him up on his offer to stay with him at his hotel room on Lower Camden Street, in Southern downtown Dublin. The situation was bittersweet: I didn't pay for accommodations while I hung out there, but no one could know I was there. (Upon my arrival at Daniel's hotel, he told me that the previous night, some staff member had kicked out some couple who were trying to pull exactly what we were trying to pull... yikes.) So I had to sneak out whenever I left, avoiding eye contact with the various people who worked there for days. And be back in the hotel room by around 7pm -- or earlier, if Daniel had to be gone again by then. Not the greatest, but it did force me to get a whole lot of reading done (several papers and the Gorgias!)
Lower Camden's a nice part of the city; it's proximate to St. Stephen's Green park and Grafton Street (which is something like Sparks Street on steroids.) Some photos:
A house on St. Stephen's Green.
A park map.
Old trees.
The St. Stephen's Mall. It's so bright it burns.
A poor night-time shot of a Thin Lizzy statue in the rain, just off Grafton.
Trinity College. Pretty but useless to visiting students: no access whatsoever to the library.
Captive photography: photos out of Daniel's hotel room window. (Notice the rooftop vegetation!)
Expedia
Daniel is a typical scatterbrained philosopher. The type of guy who, you know, books his return ticket with Expedia for a month later than he wanted. (Once we realized this was the case, I started feeling a whole lot less stupid for having skimmed over the fine print concerning my RyanAir luggage limits...) So while we'd planned to go to Galway and spend some time in the Irish countryside, our prospects were waning. Once his conference was over, Daniel began spending day after day on the phone with a bunch of fools from airlines, travel agencies and airports, trying to find a way of getting back to Canada within a reasonable time frame but without paying an $800 penalty. (He eventually managed to reach someone who got him back to Ottawa for something like $100, but only after I'd left Ireland. Originally, he was planning on leaving a few days before I did.) Since (among other things) it seemed like we'd be staying in town and I was getting tired of creeping around the hotel, I booked a room at a hotel down the street for the rest of my time in Ireland.
The Portobello Hotel is perfect: cheap (the hanging 'B' and nearby graffiti say it all), serving free full Irish breakfast, and most importantly, on the Portobello Road.
The Portobello was conveniently located near Mocha Café (see arrow), where I read plenty of essays on Wittgenstein.
Dublin feels a lot like a Canadian city, which isn't necessarily a good thing. Recently, Maria mentioned she (she'd been living in France) and Alex Viau (he'd been living in Germany) were experiencing "reverse culture-shock" upon their returns to Canada (from semesters abroad), and I suspect I was going through something similar in Ireland. There's something commercial and anglo and blah about Dublin, but I can't quite put my finger on it. The squareness and drabness of the buildings (along with there being so many perfectly normal looking brick houses), the straightforward street signs, the fact that nearly everyone dressed like a North American... it not only felt uninteresting, but stifling, especially after seeing Brussels for all of two glorious minutes. I felt like I had to get out.
At this point, it's perhaps worth saying a bit more about David the Angry Badger. David and I didn't really get along in Amsterdam until everyone else moved out of Zuiderzeeweg. (He's an angry badger for a reason, after all.) When I got to Dublin, however, David kindly invited me to go out with his friends to see a comedy show, which ended up being far more enjoyable than I was expecting. And since he knew I was excited to visit the countryside and get out of Dublin, he invited me to go to Rush (his town) for dinner with his parents.
Though I'd never thought to visit Rush before ending up on a bus bound for the town, that night in Rush was hands-down the best time I'd had in Ireland. In my (very limited) experience, the Irish are a ton of fun to be around. Indeed, going to dinner at David's instantly brought me back to 96N: crowding around a table, telling stories and laughing loudly over bottomless tea and biscuits. David's family was lively, friendly, helpful and caring. And also unusually talented: David's brother Stephen illustrated an Irish sign language kids' book, his mom is into fine arts (her paintings are on display all over the house), and his dad's brother is apparently a relatively famous Irish painter.
Though I'd never thought to visit Rush before ending up on a bus bound for the town, that night in Rush was hands-down the best time I'd had in Ireland. In my (very limited) experience, the Irish are a ton of fun to be around. Indeed, going to dinner at David's instantly brought me back to 96N: crowding around a table, telling stories and laughing loudly over bottomless tea and biscuits. David's family was lively, friendly, helpful and caring. And also unusually talented: David's brother Stephen illustrated an Irish sign language kids' book, his mom is into fine arts (her paintings are on display all over the house), and his dad's brother is apparently a relatively famous Irish painter.
Food
Oh, Irish dishes... totally sick, in both senses of the word. Take Irish breakfast, for instance. (I didn't take a photo of the full Irish breakfast I ate nearly every day, but here's its wiki page.) The version I had came with a fried egg, rashers (back bacon), sausages, hash brown, white and black pudding, beans and a fried tomato. (Holy crap, black and white pudding are amaaaaaazing.) Thankfully, there's some delicious healthy food, too: Irish soda bread (which they call "brown bread") has a beautifully crumbly, cake-like texture. Highly recommended. :)
I decided to try out the fish and chips, too, since I figured they'd probably be pretty good. I don't think I'd ever had cod before, and I thought I'd go with the smoked option. I was not disappointed at all -- best fish and chips I'd ever had for sure, despite the lack of tartar sauce. I couldn't even eat half of it, though, since the meal was intensely greasy and salty. Sadly, that isn't fully captured by this photo:
I decided to try out the fish and chips, too, since I figured they'd probably be pretty good. I don't think I'd ever had cod before, and I thought I'd go with the smoked option. I was not disappointed at all -- best fish and chips I'd ever had for sure, despite the lack of tartar sauce. I couldn't even eat half of it, though, since the meal was intensely greasy and salty. Sadly, that isn't fully captured by this photo:
A delicious way to stop your heart: smoked and battered cod with chips, ketchup and garlic sauce. (I'm so confused. I mean, I can see the photo is disgusting, so why is it making me hungry?!)
Food is also stupidly expensive in Dublin. Consider: David came into town one night. We went to Temple Bar (the entertainment, errr... square?) He bought a shitty hotdog (and I mean shitty. We're talking a-Red-Hot-in-a-bun, $1-IKEA-hotdog shitty) for € 5. I couldn't believe it. I actually had to walk away from the vendor's stand as David was waiting for his food because I couldn't stop laughing. Who the hell pays €5 for a hotdog? No wonder Ireland's a mystery to economists.
Finally, I was super pumped to see there's Tim Hortons coffee in Ireland but THEY DO NOT HAVE FRENCH VANILLA WTF. Nor do they carry Timbits. They do, however, have weird crap which isn't served in Canada. (I can't recall what sort of crap it was, probably because the whole Irish Tim Hortons experience was traumatizing.)
Friends
I'd chosen to go to Ireland largely because I thought I'd be reuniting with Buggle and Pierce (they'd agreed to come visit, after all), so I became more and more bummed out that they were not likely going to make it to Dublin. Thankfully, it wasn't all bad. For those of you who remember that insane story about Kofman and I in Montreal (if you haven't heard the story, remind me to tell you!!)... well, now, it looks like things are totally normal between us. We got along super well despite the fact that we were sharing a room only slightly larger than my container, which came as a huge surprise. And as always, it was nice to really shoot the philosophical shit with him. I even got to contribute to the paper he was presenting (a bit of ethical-political philosophy concerning the West's moral obligations (or the lack thereof) to religious Filipino single mothers), which was uplifting. :) I'm also glad I got to spend some time with David, who turned out to be a decent, likeable guy. It's nice to learn something new. ;)
27.8.10
Miriam's visit
I'm going to cheat yet again by posting photos from earlier in the week... but the Dublin and Bergen posts are forthcoming, promise! :)
Miriam left for Ottawa this morning after staying in the Netherlands for just under a week. While I don't have that many photos to post, we managed to see a lot, despite Miriam's jet lag.
Going to Den Haag. Miriaru was one classy traveller by train.
Den Haag had freakishly beautiful weather that day.
Near the Mauritshuis, Den Haag.
We visited Spinoza's house in the Hague. Sadly, it was closed for renovations.
Pretty neat. (Den Haag.)
We went on a canal cruise in Amsterdam. Amsterdam weather sucks right now.
18.8.10
more Brussels photos.
Building across the road from Jonas' place. (I took the photo from my window.) The top-right tenants play great music!
The building next door to the last one. My room had a great view.
La bourse, "the" downtown Brussels meeting point.
Grote Markt is pretty incredible.
This photo links to a giant file -- click it to see the detail in the buildings!
Brussels' Central Station. So playful.
For some reason, a carnival of some sort was setting up near the Bruxelles-Midi train station...
Aristotle gets some love!
Random-shot-on-the-way-home #2.
three short inter-travel-post notes
1) Amsterdam Tall Ship Festival! I'm guessing it's this weekend, since these bad boys were coming into Amsterdam from the IJmeer today.
2) Rashley Biro and I are excited to announce we'll be respectively writing and illustrating a children's book about a little phoenix named Ben. I'll give you more details as they come to be.
3) Uh, so... errrrr... I'm moving the blog to a Tumblr account? With a password, so no one needs to log in or receive invites or whatever. I'll keep you posted. :)
2) Rashley Biro and I are excited to announce we'll be respectively writing and illustrating a children's book about a little phoenix named Ben. I'll give you more details as they come to be.
3) Uh, so... errrrr... I'm moving the blog to a Tumblr account? With a password, so no one needs to log in or receive invites or whatever. I'll keep you posted. :)
9.8.10
Brussels.
Jonas De Vuyst (literally, Jonas the Fist!) is a PhD candidate at the Vrije Universiteit Brussel.
Say what you will about the horrors of Facebook (and I agree, there are many respects in which it's horrible), but we'd lose out on some pretty fantastic opportunities without it. When I announced my decision to pass through Brussels en route to Dublin (via status update), my friend Jonas immediately invited me to come to Brussels early and and offered me to stay at his place for as long as I wish. (Within the same thread, Erik also invited me to stay with him in Norway.)
Now, for a video and some photos:
Brussels in a nutshell: sure, it doesn't make sense. ...So?
Yes, that's right! Brussels has a Chicken Market Street. And a Herb Market Street. ...and a Short Butter Street. All are within walking distance of Jonas' apartment.
And there it is! This is the unassuming door to Jonas' apartment.
All elevators should lead directly to your apartment, no?
A far cry from my Zuiderzeeweg kitchen...
...And this poor soul lives on the oven. He matches the living room.
Lots of Hergé (and general B-D) stuff around the city: I found this at the Bruxelles-Midi station.
See? (Just outside Bruxelles-Midi.)
SEE?! (A couple of blocks up the street.)
31.7.10
Prelude
Liebe bloggees! First off, let me congratulate you on making the list of fifteen fab folk I spammed to death with blog-reading invitations. I suspect you're already giddy with excitement over Heroes' new super-secrecy... I know I am.
So, what's on the schedule for today?
Exodus
I've been livingat a prison complex in shipping-container student housing on Zeeburgereiland since early April (see So begins our Zuiderzee for photos.) Let's meet some of the people of the Zuiderzeeweg containers, shall we? Our cast (in order of appearance):
Erik Parmann
Erik is one of two Norwegian Computer Science students who sojourned in Amsterdam last semester. We got to know each other over the course of many rides to and from Science Park on bikes we bought from Waterlooplein... AT THE SAME TIME. He was and remains both my closest Zuiderzeeweg friend and the object of my foodie outbursts. He won a drinking competition in a suit and tie, and longs for the days when men were expected to hunt beasts and sing songs in caves while women... made... hats.
Anna Golias
Anna is a Spanish Philology student from Poland (how rad is that?!) who lived in Madrid for eight years before moving to Amsterdam for a semester. I met her in a cab leaving Bergwijkdreef for Zuiderzeeweg, after which we promptly took to some drunken philosophizing at our, uh, container-warming party. She introduced me not only to the fantastic, free jazz evenings at the Bimhuis, but also to the hip Northeastern A'dam neighborhoods of Java-eiland and IJburg and the IJsselmeer town of Marken, which I bike to on a regular basis. She is an aesthete and a gifted photographer:
(Her Flickr page is worth visiting.)
I can only hope to be so cool when I hit 30. And so sweet, too -- when Matt and I were dying of food poisoning on his birthday, Anna kindly made me stomach-friendly meals like rice with plain yogurt and cinnamon (which is surprisingly tasty, actually.)
Buggle and Pierce are Irish game development students who came to Amsterdam for a semester at the Hogeschool van Amsterdam. One night, Matt and I were on our way to my place to hang out and we ran into these guys in the Zuiderzeeweg parking lot. Not only were they carrying a giant teddy bear home, but they offered us tall cans out of their pockets for no reason whatsoever (this immediately puts them in my good books.) Toward the end of last semester, it became impossible for me to get home without getting waved down by one of these characters for drinks and conversation at Buggle's (where about half of the kids on our floor would congregate regularly.) In fact, hanging out at his place became such a tradition that, after throwing a big, late-running party at my place, it just didn't feel right retiring before having a drink or two in his container. 96N was a home.
It's worth mentioning that "Buggle" isn't only Michael's nickname, but a verb (to buggle something = to screw it up.) He has no nose and can turn his face into a knife on command. Pierce enjoys the simple things in life, like Pokémon, lentils on carrots, and newts. He wins fights because he grew up in Tallaght, the roughest South Dublin town of them all.
I still have their giant bear; he goes by the name of Rupert Grills and has a facebook page. You should friend him.
These two made regular cameo appearances at 96N. For our purposes, it suffices to know that Emmet is one smug mofo and David is an angry badger.
Before arriving in Amsterdam to do an MA in Philosophy, Tony both weathered Katrina in New Orleans and was interviewed by High Times magazine. He fixed our bikes, fixed us food and lived on the top floor -- reasons for which Pierce called him "God".
***
At this point, you may be wondering:
a) Why is this section entitled "Exodus"?
b) Why the long-winded introductions to these people?
Well, here be the deal: all of these fine folk are gone (and, most likely, gone for good (or, goodish.)) In fact, most of them left by the end of June, with only Tony and David still at Zuiderzeeweg in early July. The good news is that I've consequently inherited a ton of kitchen gadgetry, (undistilled...) absinthe, three yoga mats and a yoga ball, an oven and a toaster, a ton of blankets, duvets and pillows, a TV and a 360 (!!!!), about 20 varieties of tea, sunglasses, backpacks, art, hair clippers, loads of rice, chickpeas and other non-perishables, a sweet pink lamp, four bicycles and even a non-negligible amount of weed. The bad news is that, combined with the fact that the better part of my Master of Logic friends, too, were plucked from the Netherlands by the end of June, the Zuiderzeeweg exodus spelled the end of my social life in Amsterdam. What was I to do? Go annoy former Amsterdammers in the countries whence they came, clearly. So, earlier this month, I booked tickets to Brussels (to visit Jonas), Dublin (to visit the Irish kids and Daniel Kofman, who was giving a paper at a conference), and Bergen (Erik's hometown.) Stay tuned for all the deets on those trips! :)
PS: Do yourselves a favour and go listen to "Shake a Fist" by Hot Chip. (A word of caution, however: "Sounds of the Studio" ain't for the faint, so brace yourself!)
So, what's on the schedule for today?
Exodus
I've been living
Erik Parmann
Mr. Parmann overlooking his hometown.
Erik is one of two Norwegian Computer Science students who sojourned in Amsterdam last semester. We got to know each other over the course of many rides to and from Science Park on bikes we bought from Waterlooplein... AT THE SAME TIME. He was and remains both my closest Zuiderzeeweg friend and the object of my foodie outbursts. He won a drinking competition in a suit and tie, and longs for the days when men were expected to hunt beasts and sing songs in caves while women... made... hats.
Anna Golias
Anna is a self-portrait genius.
Anna is a Spanish Philology student from Poland (how rad is that?!) who lived in Madrid for eight years before moving to Amsterdam for a semester. I met her in a cab leaving Bergwijkdreef for Zuiderzeeweg, after which we promptly took to some drunken philosophizing at our, uh, container-warming party. She introduced me not only to the fantastic, free jazz evenings at the Bimhuis, but also to the hip Northeastern A'dam neighborhoods of Java-eiland and IJburg and the IJsselmeer town of Marken, which I bike to on a regular basis. She is an aesthete and a gifted photographer:
(Her Flickr page is worth visiting.)
I can only hope to be so cool when I hit 30. And so sweet, too -- when Matt and I were dying of food poisoning on his birthday, Anna kindly made me stomach-friendly meals like rice with plain yogurt and cinnamon (which is surprisingly tasty, actually.)
Michael Buggle and Eoin Pierce McKenna (Buggle and Pierce)
There can be no finer drinking companions.
Buggle and Pierce are Irish game development students who came to Amsterdam for a semester at the Hogeschool van Amsterdam. One night, Matt and I were on our way to my place to hang out and we ran into these guys in the Zuiderzeeweg parking lot. Not only were they carrying a giant teddy bear home, but they offered us tall cans out of their pockets for no reason whatsoever (this immediately puts them in my good books.) Toward the end of last semester, it became impossible for me to get home without getting waved down by one of these characters for drinks and conversation at Buggle's (where about half of the kids on our floor would congregate regularly.) In fact, hanging out at his place became such a tradition that, after throwing a big, late-running party at my place, it just didn't feel right retiring before having a drink or two in his container. 96N was a home.
It's worth mentioning that "Buggle" isn't only Michael's nickname, but a verb (to buggle something = to screw it up.) He has no nose and can turn his face into a knife on command. Pierce enjoys the simple things in life, like Pokémon, lentils on carrots, and newts. He wins fights because he grew up in Tallaght, the roughest South Dublin town of them all.
I still have their giant bear; he goes by the name of Rupert Grills and has a facebook page. You should friend him.
Emmet Power and David Wylie (Mr. E. Power and The Angry Badger)
Believe it or not, these kids can't stand one another.
These two made regular cameo appearances at 96N. For our purposes, it suffices to know that Emmet is one smug mofo and David is an angry badger.
Anthony Plonski III ('Tony')
Anna and I talking to Tony through the floor, as usual.
Before arriving in Amsterdam to do an MA in Philosophy, Tony both weathered Katrina in New Orleans and was interviewed by High Times magazine. He fixed our bikes, fixed us food and lived on the top floor -- reasons for which Pierce called him "God".
***
At this point, you may be wondering:
a) Why is this section entitled "Exodus"?
b) Why the long-winded introductions to these people?
Well, here be the deal: all of these fine folk are gone (and, most likely, gone for good (or, goodish.)) In fact, most of them left by the end of June, with only Tony and David still at Zuiderzeeweg in early July. The good news is that I've consequently inherited a ton of kitchen gadgetry, (undistilled...) absinthe, three yoga mats and a yoga ball, an oven and a toaster, a ton of blankets, duvets and pillows, a TV and a 360 (!!!!), about 20 varieties of tea, sunglasses, backpacks, art, hair clippers, loads of rice, chickpeas and other non-perishables, a sweet pink lamp, four bicycles and even a non-negligible amount of weed. The bad news is that, combined with the fact that the better part of my Master of Logic friends, too, were plucked from the Netherlands by the end of June, the Zuiderzeeweg exodus spelled the end of my social life in Amsterdam. What was I to do? Go annoy former Amsterdammers in the countries whence they came, clearly. So, earlier this month, I booked tickets to Brussels (to visit Jonas), Dublin (to visit the Irish kids and Daniel Kofman, who was giving a paper at a conference), and Bergen (Erik's hometown.) Stay tuned for all the deets on those trips! :)
PS: Do yourselves a favour and go listen to "Shake a Fist" by Hot Chip. (A word of caution, however: "Sounds of the Studio" ain't for the faint, so brace yourself!)
10.7.10
Future Heroes
Dearest bloggees,
I've come to realize I don't write many blog posts because I only infrequently have something to share with a public audience (but have a lot to share otherwise!) So: if you'd like to keep following, let me know either by posting a comment on this post or emailing me. I'll add you to a list of readers and make this a private blog.
:)
Maja
I've come to realize I don't write many blog posts because I only infrequently have something to share with a public audience (but have a lot to share otherwise!) So: if you'd like to keep following, let me know either by posting a comment on this post or emailing me. I'll add you to a list of readers and make this a private blog.
:)
Maja
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