Jun 2007

If Ireland was my European Appetizer, the main course has arrived. One day has passed since I arrived in Croatia, landing in the port city of Pula where I'm spending two nights in a tiny hostel near the city center. This town is ostensibly the capital of Istria - an arrowhead shaped peninsula situated directly across the Adriatic Sea from Venice. This region is well known for its rocky beaches, frequented by German and Italian tourists, and its inland vineyards, truffles, and seemingly abandoned hill towns. I find Pula to lack the charm which Istria is well recognized for - its hard to hide the giant cranes in the harbor - but it remains a vibrant place to spend a few days and worth seeing for a day trip, if not a short stay. I have not been to some of the bigger Italian port cities such as Trieste or Genoa but I'd imagine them being quite similar, with Pula possessing a slightly more rustic and/or resort feel (its suburbs).

Some History:

Pula began as a Roman settlement, with a few notorious remnants from their rule. Though not quite as big as the one in Rome, the amplitheater rivals the colleseum in how well its been preserved. Most of the seating has been removed, but at the time, it could fit 22000 people, though for a town of only 5000, the math doesnt seem to add up. Today its used for performances of all sorts - currently tickets are on sale for Croatian version of Grease and a ballet. Pula has since been under the control of Venice, the Habsburgs, and most recently Yugoslavia before gaining its independence in the late eighties. During the Habsburg period Pula was the main naval command station, and James Joyce once was employed here as an english teacher - amusing, nice company - for their officers.

Small town Airport:

Arriving via plane alone emphasizes the difference between Croatia and its more modernized western counterparts. Though my antiquated guide book warned me it would be the case, I took for granted there would be public transportation from the airport that could shuttle me the 7 km to town, but clearly not. The only way in is via taxi, and luckily I was able to find someone willing to shuttle me in to the bus station for a mere 5 euros, significantly cheaper than the going rate of 100 kuna - about 20 usd, 15 euro. The airport in itself was quite empty, and there was little evidence of any new flights coming or going anywhere, anytime, in the near or distant future. I'd bet there were no more than 40 employees of all things airport oriented making the place run smoothly.

Next Steps:

I'm leaving for Rovinj in the morning, a smaller, more picturesque coastal town where I intend to stay three to four nights. The timing is based on the circumstances of my accomodation, the first place where I am going to have to arrange a sobe or homestay/private accomodation. It should be interesting, and hopefully not too expensive given the time of year. I look forward to writing about the experience of securing one - often by negotiation right outside the bus station. Also, coming soon will be a far more evocative explanation of my special interest in the balkans, and in effect, why I am devoting two months of my life to traveling to cities + places so far off manz peoples radar.

Day's Events:

Yesterday the majority of my day was spent on a day tour to the Burren and Cliffs of Moher. Though I tend to avoid such tours, this one was well worth it given the wealth of Western Ireland's natural attractions on the agenda. The Burren is a strange, Limestone infested rocky mountainous region which is on the whole, relatively thinly inhabited. It was interesting to view the rocky landscape, once settled by the druids several thousand years ago, and what remains today of their time here. During one stop there was enough time for me to hike partially up this rocky mountain, with fantastic views below, with the lush green fields cleared in recent decades for farming. Some may say its just a bunch of rocks, but it was cool.

The real show lied ahead, the thing which made this entire day trip worth my time and my clams. Though saturated with tourists, the cliffs did not disappoint. Their is scale is astounding, crash of the Atlantic waves breathtaking, and the temptation to play chicken with the 200 meter high edge frightening. The tour afforded us just short of an hour to walk portions of the cliff's edge designated for tourists, though most - and I mean everyone - choose to ignore the signs and jump the fence to explore the private property of those fortunate to own land overlooking such a majestic site. This trip truly made the entire afternoon, and visit to Galway, quite memorable. It should not be missed.

Unexpected Reunion:

You hear the stories of people stumbling upon friends or acquaintances from the distant past on such trips and you wonder if and when it will ever happen to you. Well, it turns out pretty early in the trip and pretty distant in my past. Five years ago I was working for Emory University during the summer after my sophomore year and we were given free housing - the 20 or so of us employed - for the duration of our employment in one of the freshman halls on campus. A few doors down was this kid Bart, a good guy but not someone who I ever clicked with at the time. Last night, he walked in the front door of the hostel I am staying at and our eyes met, somewhat of a double take, before placing each other. It was real cool to meet up in this fashion, to go out and have a drink with someone you haven't even thought about in five years. Enjoyed it quite a bit, as well as a lot of the other people that were at this hostel. If ever in Galway, Claddagh is the place to be - I was never bored and met some great people with a bunch of great stories to share.

Next Stop:

I'm leaving for Dublin in an hour or so via bus, staying one night before I'm to fly to Istria, a Croatian Peninsula near Italy, in the morning. Internet has been so omnipresent in Ireland that it has made writing consistently in this blog surprisingly easy. I doubt Croatia will afford me the same luxury, less the ubiquitousness of cafes, but more so the price - one euro or free in the majority of Irish locations frequented. Anyway, til next time. Seeya.

This entry will be short as I have spent most of my time since the last entry traveling across the isle on a bus. My first impressions of Galway are very positive. Though small, it is quite a pleasant, manageable town to spend a few hours wandering around, and really, there isn't much else to it. It is a real Irish town, with 65,000 people, with the majority of its energy based in the center core which caters well to the tourists. Having not considered visiting it when I began to plan this trip, I appreciate the suggestion - there are several of you and you know who you are. Tomorrow, I'm heading out of town to the Cliffs of Moher and Burren on a group bus tour. I look forward to passing along my thoughts, as well as some pictures once I've sorted that out - still not sure how to do it, lack the appropriate chords.

Next, some quick responses to the comments I received. To be honest, skipped the stone kissing as the line for doing so was a little longer than thought worthwhile. Also, need to express appreciation for the Dingle suggestion - I wish I had left enough time to make a visit out there, from everything I've read its great to check out, real peaceful, pretty and such. This trip was never intended to be a deep dive into Ireland, though having seen it, realize that it would be a fun thing to do down the road. Having moved on from Cork, I really do appreciate it being a more real city for those visiting. Life goes on, and tourists need to get out of the way bc the locals feel no real need to make it easy for you. I like that a lot about such cities, where the tourist remains out of place, with no predestined plan. I prefer to sit back and observe the locals.

Finally, I'm hoping to instill greater discipline into the topics which I am writing about in my blog. Focusing on clear, reader friendly issues like my eating adventures, top sites or attractions, weird interactions with other travelers and/or locals and such. Please email me if you want to put forth one over another, or suggest a new theme of interest which will give me greater sense of how the public - is there anybody out there? - would like me to organize, it in a way that I am not simply rambling along about each day. That, I think, will grow tiresome in due time, as I alone have already grown somewhat sick of recounting it all. So, if you are out there, please, if you for whatever reason have sustained interest in reading my blog, send me suggestions. I will be sure to do a better job organizing my thoughts in a thoughtful manner.

My spirits have improved since my last post and I apologize for my use of the word 'defeated' at that time, probably too dramatic. Deflated seems to be a more suitable term. Changing cities has really helped me rebound and I am confident that when Dublin and I meet again in a few days, I'll be plenty prepared for whatever it throws my direction. A quick recap is in order: as I mentioned, I have moved on from Dublin, traveling early yesterday via bus to Cork, Ireland's reluctant "second city." The four hour ride was for the most part quite peaceful, exhibiting some of the natural landscapes' beauty for which this country is famed. I'd imagine the experience would have been only that much better if there were not two polish men in the back screaming into their phones every few minutes of the trip, but wont go any further there as I promised a more positive message this time.

Cork is a vibrant city with a busy city centre set on an island created by a river which splits to the east of the city, and meets up again further to the west after what seems like little over a mile or two. Having arrived on a Saturday, it seemed that most of the city was out and about, walking along the busy shopping streets. Beyond the main avenues, many of the streets are dominated by pedestrians. Pubs abound, and two local beers battle for dominance - Murphy's and Beamish Stouts - and oddly enough compete with America's own Bud Light for supremacy in the region. Weird no? Even stranger, as I arrived at my hostel, a little more pressed for space then the one in Dublin, I was handed a 'buy one get one free' voucher for Coors light at the bar inside the hostel. I reluctantly accepted later on in the afternoon. This hostel was located to the north of the city, on a street also shared by the local polish population - same as Dublin. I remember hearing about polish plumbers storming the UK when the borders were opened but had never seen the result, functioning polish communities but a few years later, with polish supermarkets, and even a pizza place which I ate at for dinner last night, though it wasnt very good.

So, as I mentioned, my time spent in Cork has been therapeutic. This morning the sky opened to reveal its familiar, though recently absent, blue tone, and the sun continued to shine most of the day, though it did give way to some rain late afternoon. I ventured to blarney castle only a few km from the city center by bus, spending a few hours on the grounds of this famous castle, with its famous stone which, when kissed upside down, allegedly grants one the gift of eloquent speech. The weather could not have been better - no jacket, no sweatshirt, so if I was to have clear skies for but one morning, this would be the time to have it. I also made friends with an older girl from Niagara, Canada - maybe young 30s - also traveling alone, spending the next few hours with her, returning to the city, and visiting the Cork City Gaol. Yes, a Gaol, or Jail, that very same thing which had eluded me during my time in Dublin. Hence, serenity now. It was truly cathartic experience, and helped to cleanse the memories of my previous failure. The jail was ok to visit, nothing extraordinary, but interesting to see what life would is like living in such a setting. I was disappointed that most of those who had been incarcerated had committed only petty crimes, whereas the gaol in Dublin had revolutionary relevance. That said, this visit was not about what was inside anymore, finding it was enough.

Day 2 in Dublin and I feel absolutely defeated. The skies, which imparted upon me such optimism earlier in the day, opened up midday, and with it, left me soaked for a second straight day. Didn't help that I spent most of my afternoon lost, failed by my trusty, soiled, tourist map, trying to find the old city jail. After an hour of trudging through the rain - soaked feet are no fun - tired, cranky, wet, and having spent considerable time under an awning on a side street in a distant part of the city center, I gave up. Even more discouraging, further inspection of the map a mile or two after turning away showed that I had just missed it, a few blocks beyond my route. Dejected, I couldn't muster the will to go back, choosing instead to head back across the city - a 45 minute wak - to my hostel to dry off. I made the mistake the day before of comparing Dublin to Seattle in my mind, a city whose famous for its perpetual mist but rarely a down pour. Today, I must recant. In Dublin, it rains both consistently and hard. Perhaps you may be able to sneak from one place to the next and never be forced to bear the brunt of the storm, but in time, it will get you. Needless to say, this hasn't been the most auspicious start to my visit in Europe. Perhaps this is nothing more than a test, a little hurdle sent my way to see if I'm up to the challenge.

At the very least though, it has been interesting to see how locals respond to the rain here. In Seattle, nobody even notices the rain. Nobody carries along an umbrella, they just move on as if nothing has happened. Here, you can pick the tourists out with ease, the one wearing the waterproof jackets - often with hood - like me, and the local, the one carrying the umbrella. Then, there is a third of the population who are so woefully unprepared, somewhat resigned to the inevitability of the rain, accepting their soaked existence, doing their best to rush along during intermittent breaks.

Anyway, though the rain may have put a damper on my afternoon, my morning remained unscathed, spent exploring Dublin's historic Trinity College's campus and in particular, the Old Library. The main exhibit at the library, that which attracts the crowds, is the Book of Kells, an 8th century manuscript of the Gospels written on calfskin. The line to get into the building was more than 30 minutes long, though was worth the trouble as after viewing the book, you can go up into the old reading room, filled to the brim with texts from centuries past. Beyond being a fascinating old place to see, there is currently an exhibit on WWI propaganda (oddly a subject I once studied in depth). As the war had begun during British rule, the arguments for Irish soldiers to join the cause couldn't appeal to same emotions, the same love of their country and desire to protect it. It was more distant, more under the guise of what threat might be posed by a weakened British state, and more so, directly to the needs of the continent. As usual, many of the advertisements had depicted women questioning their manliness, gun in hand looking toward the continent wondering whether they were going to have to go for them because the men were too cowardly. Seeing this at least provided a little more insight to the success of the Irish revolt. Naturally, after years of failed efforts freedom was finally attained during a time when England's energy was directed elsewhere, focused more on continental issues than its little brother to the West.

Tomorrow I bus to Cork, and from everything I've read, am pretty excited to check out this city, even if it continues to rain. Ireland is small enough it seems that no trip can be too troublesome, with great cheap bus links making a cross country trip quite painfree. Back in a few days...