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29
Dec
2009
Dublin to Derry
Ah, finally a few minutes with an actual computer instead of just scratching off a few notes on my iPhone! That and a power point (outlet) by my bed so that I can charge tonight is pure heaven!
Wow, my standards for a fun time are declining!
This is my third day in Ireland (more or less – the past two have been in Northern Ireland). I flew out of Columbus, Georgia, for the first time in years. It was slightly more expensive than Atlanta but more than balanced by not having to leave my car there for a month. I left with tons of time and actually made an earlier flight out of Columbus to Atlanta. Didn’t get me to Ireland any faster, but I like having longer layovers so I don’ t have to ponder whether or not I or my bag will miss the flight.
I kept falling asleep in the airport while trying to read a Steinbeck book my uncle recommended some months ago. No offense to the book, I was just up late. It’s actually been an engaging read, just need some alone time to return to it. I figured I would be knocked out for the flight. Oh no, all the way until the plane lifted off, I was dozing off, but the moment we were in the air, wide awake!
I managed maybe three hours sleep on the way over, about average for me. Ah well. I arrived into Dublin a half hour ahead of time and immigration was a breeze. Having reclaimed my bag, I began hunting for the pick up spot for the hostel I was staying in (run by the same company who is doing the tour). I thought I had found it, but I either missed the bus or I was at the wrong spot. I finally gave up and found a regular city bus. Farewell $12 but as tired as I was, priceless.
Found the hostel well enough. On the fence whether or not I’ll return to it when getting back to Dublin. My room was fine, but it’s divided into a couple of buildings and some of them in the next building reported cold showers – my mortal enemy. Anyway, all was well with my room. I am getting ahead of myself though, when I got in, it was too early to check in, but I could store my bags and made a run for what I could see. It was a clear but beautiful day. I wandered down O’Connell street a ways and checked out some of the shopping malls along the way. Oh, and of course, I had breakfast at the most predictable place on earth. It has golden arches and it was right in front of me. I apologize!
I then wandered down and found the River Liffey and then Trinity College. I literally happened upon a walking tour that was about to start. I’m not sure of the exact connection with Trinity, but I know the tour guide was a Trinity grad. It was a historical tour and covered a good chunk of the south side of Dublin and the gamut of Irish History.
By the end of the tour, I had some small grasp of the geography of the city center. I wandered back to the hostel and checked in and put my bags away properly. I went back out and saw a little more of the city. There’s a Forbidden Planet (comic shop chain – I’ve been to one in London and Edinburgh). Tons of awesome toys and such and I got nothing! I was looking for a couple of CDs I’d planned on buying here. I found them finally at an HMV on Grafton Street and they cost so much in Euros that it’s cheaper for me to buy them import through Amazon, go figure!
By this point, I was drawing my last bit of energy. I was just exhausted from the lack of sleep on the plane and the time change. And did you notice what was missing from this picture, lunch and dinner. That golden arches meal was the only one of the day. I think I was running on adrenaline. But Dublin was a very cool city and I look forward to seeing more of it when I’m back.
The next morning began the tour. This is by far and away the largest tour I’ve ever been on. I think the largest Haggis tour I was on may have had 18 people. This sucker has 58! Wow, I would have probably taken it anyway, but had I known the size, I would have had a second thought or two, no doubt. There’s no way for a group this size to really get to know each other. There are a few more Americans, but I’ve yet to figure out which ones they were! I just know I wasn’t the only one to raise my hand when we were going through ye olde where is everyone from drill at the beginning. Probably 80 or 90 percent of the group are Aussie, followed by Kiwi and an assortment of others.
We made a couple of stops on the way out, including a large park where Pope John Paul II preached soon after he became Pope. There’s a massive cross there. It was quite picturesque on the frosty hill in subdued light. I hope for good results from those photos.
We moved on from there to the Guinness museum deal. I think the most fascinating part of it to me was the advertising floor. Watching the ads across the decades and checking out the different memorabilia was incredible. I felt brainwashed when I left the room. ”Guinness is good for you!”
After that, we left Dublin in the rear view mirror and headed for Drogheda. It was a cool little village. Our main stop there was a cathedral that holds the head of Saint Oliver Plunkett. For someone who was martyred in 1681 by being hung, drawn and quartered, and then decapitated, he was in reasonable condition… brrr… Afterwards lunch… in a little cafe I found. I wanted a wrap… it was chicken, mayo, and corn?!?! Interesting! It wasn’t half bad. I think I was just happy to finish with my little strawberry desert.
We finished up the evening in Belfast. We took the famous black Taxi tours… It was really depressing. They have “peace” walls that separate the Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods. From everything we heard from different people, it’s not just religion, it’s also politics – loyalists to the UK versus people who want to be part of free Ireland. It’s so complicated. I’m sure books have been written on the subject many times over, but it was so depressing. There are more peace walls since the troubles more or less ended several years ago. They are just becoming more and more divided by the sounds of it. I didn’t get a happy vibe from Belfast even walking down the streets there. It was a dour place.
This morning we drove up to Derry, another town in Northern Ireland. The countryside until we hit the coast was covered in snow and ice! It was very beautiful… more on my later feelings shortly… We took a stop to see the view of Scotland! The next stop was supposed to be this little rope bridge deal that goes to an island. Used to be for fisherman but has become a tourist stop. I was already iffy on walking out on the thing, the snow and ice sold me on not. Little did I know, the road down to it and the bridge are closed! Perfect!
So, next stop the Giant’s Causeway! Beautiful spot. A geological formation that has a pretty wild story about an Irish giant building a bridge to Scotland because he wanted to fight a battle with a giant there. The Scots giant turned out to be massive, but the Irish giant’s wife dressed her hubby as a baby and told the Scots Giant this was their kid. He was freaked and tore the bridge up escaping! At any rate, a beautiful sight! Windy as all get out and was happy to get a sandwich after before reboarding the bus.
Next stop, Derry! Derry is somewhat like Belfast, very divided, lots of fighting. Here the river mostly divides the Protestant loyalists from the Catholic Republicans. There’s a little hold out of Protestants on this side of the river where we’re staying. We walked by their part of town on the walking tour this afternoon, it’s quite a fortified little compound. So sad…
The walking tour… the ice.. oh my… There’s ice everywhere, the tops of the medieval walls, whole sidewalks… I have never slipped and slid so much in my life. At first it was fun, by the end, I think I may have had enough ice for the moment. I’d love to see some actual snow falling before this trip is over, but I’d rather not deal with the rest of it. My wishes are not looking good!
Tomorrow we head for Galway. I know we see some of the coast on the way. Galway is a place I’m interested in seeing more of, so we’ll see tomorrow whether I want to use my extra time here to go back. I like Derry (despite the troubles, it feels.. I don’t know, human), but I don’t see myself back in Northern Ireland soon.
4
Jun
2006
The Long Ride Home
So, it’s Sunday, and I finally have the energy to relate the journey back to metro ATL.
I was good for my word and got an early start. Unfortunately, I had piddled about the night going through the photos from the day and such, so I got only about 6 hours of sleep. In the morning, that didn’t seem so bad. Later, I would regret that.
Still, I was on the move before 8am (okay, you have your early, I have mine). Having no real idea where my stop at Flowerdew Hundred was, I had once more put my travel in the hands of AAA’s triptik. The route it planned look sane enough. And for a rather cool effect, it included a ferry across the James River. Yayy!!
I had not been on a Ferry at all in decades and never a proper ferry in the sense of the one across the James River. I had seen it going across during my visit at Jamestowne. So, that was kind of cool. My experience with Ferry’s before had been back home, where for years Macon County had the last operating Ferry in Georgia. I don’t recall when a bridge finally replaced it, but it was a staple for some people at least into the 80’s if not the 1990’s . I had only ridden it for fun, as it was not on any normal path of travel for us. It held, I think, a maximum of two cars, but the ride was all of a couple of minutes anyway. I never drove onto that one myself, either.
So, about 20 minutes into my trip, I was waiting on a pier on the James River and watching a Ferry approach. I found it amusing that the same vague feeling of dread that comes across me before a plane flight hit here as well. I guess it’s the loss of control as I don’t have that feeling when I set forth to drive somewhere. A few minutes passed as the cars coming from the other side exited, and then they let us on. Lost in reverie for a moment, I missed the start of the trip but suddenly felt movement and my foot automatically went for the brakes. I found the sense of movement very disconcerting. I realized sheepishly after a second that the Ferry, not my car as such, was in motion. I wanted to get out but wasn’t sure if that was kosher. I saw a family in an RV unloading behind me and I decided there was safety in numbers. I never saw any locals get out, for whatever reason. As I enjoyed a good view of Jamestown from the River, I reflected that I’ve never been fond of small boats. I hate the feeling of them on the water, but give me a good solid boat and I enjoy it. The Ferry Pocahontas definitely fit the bill. Anything that holds a few dozen cars and is only half full has some heft behind it. The only boat with a similar feel to it was the hydrofoil that Brandy and I rode to Capri last January. The ocean breeze coming up the James River from the Atlantic was perfect. The trip was only about 20 minutes long but was just the perfect way to begin a journey. As the opposite dock came into view, I got back in the car and again felt that sensation to put my foot on the brake. Odd that I didn’t have that feeling on the decks, but the moment my body was back in my parked but moving car, I again wanted to stop it!
Now, came the fun… AAA’s map told me that I’d be on VA-31 for 8+ miles before my next turn… but did the mileage include the Ferry trip or not?? The line item on the map began with getting on the Ferry and gave the mileage. I didn’t realize until on the other side VA-31 continues and I was to be on it for?? How long? Did the Ferry include the 8 miles or not? And the next irritating thing that I’m mention to AAA when I get the time, whenever roads have names, they provide those INSTEAD of giving you the highway number… Well, when you’re on the road, you can about count on the highway numbers being up there, but you’re lucky if you can spot a street name before you pass it. The next turn was so marked by the road name rather than the highway number… booo… I don’t know how I managed to find it. Obviously I was not tuckered out just yet.
By 9:30am, I was sitting outside the Flowerdew Hundred museum waiting for it to open… half an hour from then… Let me say, this place is REALLY in the middle of nowhere. The road to it after the last turn led straight there. Nowhere else, at all… just this little museum with some farm buildings and a huge house nearby. hmmm… 10am finally rolled around and I’d yet to see a car pull up. If got out and followed the path to the museum (formerly it turns out an old house and before that a school house). When I got to the door, there was a sign stating the open hours and to pick up the phone in the box by the door… ooookay…. A guy answered and I told him I was a the museum… At this point, I was really beginning to question why I’d come out here. At any rate, he said someone would be out.
I’m horrible with names, but the lady who came out was probably Ms. Shriver, the curator. She thought at first I was a party that had an appointment that day, which of course I was not. So, she had to ask how on earth I came to be there. So, I said that I had family that had lived in the area quite some time ago, the Woodsons. She said, “Doctor John Woodson?” Yes! Reaching behind the counter, she produced a packet full of info. with name Woodson on the front and asked me to sign the registry and to check yes for being one of the original Flowerdew families. She listed a handful of the major names that people tend to show up claiming descendcy from, Woodson being one of them. So, they keep information for those people on hand.
I am admittedly not fully versed on this part of the family. The Fitzpatricks, Woodsons, and Napiers were comparably well researched parts of the family, so I’ve spent most of my time on other parts of the family tree over the years. I know only the highlights, that Dr. Woodson, a surgeon to a company of soldiers, arrived with his wife, Sarah, on the ship George in 1619. They came with Sir George Yeardley, the new royal governor of Virginia, and his wife, Temperance Flowerdew. John and Sarah after arriving, had at least two sons, John and Robert, before Dr. Woodson died in the Indian massacre of 1644. My family is descended from the son, John. I knew they came to live somewhere called Flowerdew Hundred, but what was that? I knew nothing about it.
The museum is the result of 30 years of archaeological work at the old plantation. The name never made any sense, but I had never examined it. The Flowerdew part is in honor of Yeardley’s wife. But Hundred? Hundred was an old English term that roughly amounted to enough land to support a company of 100 fighting men. And the division of new lands into these Hundreds along the James River was the first expansion of the English settlement. The people who came over did not settle inside Jamestowne but along the River in more forts as the colony expanded. It originally supported a colony of people dependent on one another, but in the 19th century, it came to be a family owned plantation and today is part of a 1,400 acre modern farm. Fortunately, the area has been studied since the early 1970’s by archaeologists from the College of William & Mary, University of California at Berkeley, and the state of Virginia. My guide is still in the process of cataloguing all the material finds that were made.
I intended for a brief stop, but after touring the small museum and nearby grounds (there’s actually a driving tour I decided I didn’t have time for), I got to talking with the curator. She told me a lot about the history of Flowerdew when my family was there as well, it turns out that she and her husband have been to London as many times as I have, so we began to compare notes. In the end, I was there over two hours (closer to three if you include my half hour wait for the place to open). It was a great stop, and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything, but it pushed an already long drive back by hours…
Back on the road, I hurried towards I-95. Country roads quickly gave way to a small town on the edge of the interstate. I had one last meal in Virginia, at a Wendy’s. I passed three McD’s trying to find something fast but different… They don’t appear to have learned the joy of Chick-fil-A up there yet. I saw one in Williamsburg under construction… sigh… Took my meal to go and headed down the interstate… I shortly was lost in the mind-numbing sound of the interstate passing under my wheels. I was determined to at least get out of Virginia before stopping again.
And I made it to North Carolina… The lack of sleep started to hit me, so I began a vicious cycle of drinking coke and stopping at half the rest stops on I-85… Soon, I graduated to water realizing it was more the fluid than the caffeine that did the trick. Still, didn’t stop me from popping a few vivarin. And the road kept passing. I finally stopped at the first Chick-Fil-A I’d seen in hours for dinner about 6pm. I lost time but I decided I needed out of the car for awhile, so ate there instead of on the road. I started questioning the sanity of getting back in the car with the intent of driving on, but I also just desperately wanted after all this time on the road to get back to my house.
Not long after I was back on the road, my Mom returned a phone call from earlier in the day. We talked for about an hour before I had my next rest stop. That really helped. By the time I had finished recounting the morning to her from the Ferry ride to the museum and information I’d gleaned on our ancestors, I felt awake and aware again. Which was good, because now it was pouring rain… great… now it’s dark and I’m tired, and it’s raining. Mom’s comment that it was raining there as well (quite some distance south of Atlanta) didn’t bring me much hope that I’d ride out of the rain anytime soon.
After our conversation and that last rest stop, I only made one more stop for gas before leaving South Carolina. And I arrived home a little before 11pm… I barely unloaded anything from the car. Took some aspirin, called my Mom simply to say I was home, and collapsed.
I slept late Saturday and never left the house. Today, I’m doing laundry and generally just trying to catch up. I’ve only been out today to grab lunch. Later I need to go get some groceries as there’s frightfully little in ye olde cupboard. The funny part is as tired as I am, I’ve already been reading the airfare tips I’ve gotten via e-mail the last few days but didn’t have time to review. No plans yet, but you never know how long that will last.
29
May
2006
Asheville to Williamsburg
Oh dear, that’s a long drive. Don’t let anyone kid you, it’s a really long drive.
The beginning was interesting. I-40 coming out of Asheville is a lot more winding and downhill than I’m used to. You know the road is mountainous when there are signs instructing trucks that they can use the shoulder to cool their brakes. They also had a 35mph limit on them. And the absolute best was the ramps for out of control trucks…. uhm… I saw enough of those to make me think that they must be for a reason… They amounted to a lot of small dirt hills leading to a large one… One would assume the small bumps were to slow the truck and the last big one was the final stop… brrr….
And here’s a random observation, you know you’re not in Georgia anymore when all the rest stops have ONLY Pepsi products. I stopped at two stops in North Carolina and one in Virginia…. nothing but Pepsi… bleh… Oh well, when you’re desperate, you’re getting what they sell… well, at two of three stops anyway…
I’m going to have to examine the maps a bit before I leave, especially once I settle on where I’m stopping over on my way back. I followed the AAA map that I got before leaving and once I got off I-95, I figured I must be close… oh, try at least 30 miles away… I mean, the scenery was beautiful, a very rural way in, but after 7 hours on the road, staring at the map constantly and watching for the next turn was absolutely no fun. Maybe if you had a co-pilot, but solo, I think there has to be a perhaps longer but more interstate oriented route out of here…. I hope…
Speaking of solo, I had expected to pick up a friend from deviant art on the way up, but he had to back out because things came up to keep him in Charlotte. I had planned this trip solo anyway, but it would have been nice to have had some company on that long tedious drive, let me tell you. Maybe another time.
Once here, I checked into the hotel and then headed over to the Welcome center to get my tickets. I’m paid up for my whole stay in Williamsburg for entry to the colonial village and to Jamestowne and Yorktown. That also includes the shuttle buses to those attractions. After that drive, I think I’m going to let someone else do the driving for the next few days. I’m more or less in walking distance of the village. I walk at a good pace and it’s about 10 minutes away.
I also booked a couple of tours and some evening activities in the village. It’s kind of nuts how busy they are. I had thought to be a little less schedule oriented here, but the lady at the counter advised against that. In fact, as I went through the schedule of things I wanted to do, for three of the four, I snagged the last spots on those tours… yoiks! So, looks like all day tomorrow is Colonial Williamsburg, I have a tour at 10am and another in the afternoon and one more that night. Wednesday is probably all day at Jamestowne. And then Thursday is probably part day here and part day in Yorktown.
Williamsburg was already pretty much shut down when I got the tickets done and drove back over here. But I tested out the walk and got some evening shots of the village. Beautiful warm light. When I have the energy to actually go through these shots….
So, back here, grabbed some dinner, and now it’s time for TV and bed…
Aren’t I exciting as all get out?
27
May
2006
Alpharetta to Asheville
Not a ton to report from the first leg of the journey.
Got an early start this morning (for me), leaving Alpharetta around 8am.
The stretch to Greenville got pretty monotonous. Shift right to pass, shift back left, shift right again… joy…. There’s not much of visual interest once you pass the lakes as the Georgia border.
But in Greenville, the path AAA had plotted out leads to a bit more scenic roads, mostly not interstates. Mountains started blossoming around me, but soon it was pretty much the same sort of road. And making good time, I decided I should take a side trip. I saw a sign that said “Bat Cave” – cool, I’ve never visited caves before, I thought. I figured that it was some sort of national park. About halfway there, the thought crossed my mind, what if it’s a place named Bat Cave?
Well, guess what… it is… But it was on a scenic byway, so it was worth it. However, I’m glad to see Georgia isn’t the only place where scenic byway means, “winding road of death with no place to pull over and linger on a view.” I saw the most beautiful mountain valley totally filled with yellow flowers of some description. It positively glowed, but there was nowhere to pull over and document the moment on “film.” Alas… I’ve come to realize that by and large, I’m a flat lander. I definitely don’t enjoy driving on roads that whip back and forth the way they do up here, or even just a tad north of Atlanta for that matter.
At any rate, before I sound like it’s a bad trip, it’s not. Asheville is beautiful. The downtown is practically overflowing with awesome old architecture, obviously influenced by the Vanderbilts. I’ve yet to see the estate itself, that’s on tomorrow’s agenda.
I got to the hotel around 2pm and got settled in. It’s probably about 15 minutes from downtown, near Biltmore Mall (if that’s the only mall here, it’s not saying much, I’m assuming there’s more elsewhere). Afterwards, I drove down the Blue Ridge Parkway for awhile. Not quite as curving as the stretch to Bat Cave at least! Scenic overlooks frequently and mountain tunnels which lead to an interesting discovery.
The tunnels have signs asking you to turn on your headlights… so, I attempt to… hmmm… nothing… weird… but the lights do flip on automatically as always (which is the only way I normally turn them on). The problem is, it takes half a tunnel for them to flip on…. After two tunnels like this, I pop open the fuse box at the first scenic overlook, and I find the one that’s supposed to be for the headlights… empty… I don’t mean blown, I mean, empty… So, I popped a spare into it… problem solved, but what, I’ve had this car since 2001 and never been able to operate the headlights manually if I wanted to? Strange! It’s not like I ever tried…
So, after meandering down the parkway for awhile, stopping periodically, I headed back into Asheville and went back to downtown, this time having time to park and wander since everything else was squared away. Tons of photos, but too exhausted to do much with them tonight. I had thought I might go see a movie at the theater around the corner, but I know I’d just go to sleep.
Oh, downtown I had a fun vagrant experience. I seem to be required to have one of those per trip. I was taking a picture when he walked up… curse me, I made eye contact… I keep saying I’ll work on that… So, he saw his chance and was trying to sell me something electronic… I wasn’t paying attention, except for his story automatically had holes in it. First he had found it, then he had bought it but needed to sell it for food… yeah… “I’m sorry, no thanks…” Again with the preamble, this time with the addition of a hungry wife… “I’m sorry…” And his reply, “I KNOW YOU ARE!” And off he stomped… I did not just get called sorry by a panhandler did I?? Okkkkkkkkayyyy….
But don’t let this color your perception of Asheville. Lovely place. The architecture I’ve covered. There were also street performers all over the place. Live music echoed through the streets. There are art galleries and stores all over. I may try to take some of that in tomorrow.
So, off to bed now… try to get a good nights sleep but I want to get to Biltmore estate early so that I can take in as much as possible.
10
Jan
2006
From Chasing Sunrise to Chasing Sunset
It occurred to me on the flight back today that the trips to Europe tend to be made overnight, i.e. in search of the sunrise, but the flights back are all chasing the sunset, such that it feels like I went through the longest day. I saw the sunrise at around 7:30am in Rome (six hours ahead of Eastern) and watched it descend over Atlanta as I left Hartsfield between 5pm and 6pm…. Weird!
You may have guessed, I’m back in the states. I could go into heaps of boring details, but by and large I’ll spare you. I went to bed early last night, such that I had literally prepared to put my head down when a new room-mate showed up. The most timid creature I think I’ve ever laid eyes on. I told him my name and barely got a peep of his, “Thomas,” and decided that I’d continue with the sleep process. Within seconds of head hitting pillow I was out. Got up shy of 6am this morning and was on a train about 7am to the airport. Brandy had reported that she barely made her gate by 15 minutes leaving when she did on Sunday. I don’t know if an hour made all that difference or if Sunday was a madhouse of people leaving or what, but I flew through all the gates she mentioned and sat waiting to board for over two hours.
The 11 hour flight was heinously long. Within four hours I’d exhausted what charge remained on my archos (hard drive and mp3 player) so resorted to the in flight music and finished the last of my books. All the while trying to keep some part of my seat from the rather rotund gentleman next to me who seemed oblivious to the amount of personal space he was using.
One of the in-flight channels was the entire Nevermind Album from Nirvana. We touched down to Smells like Teen Spirit, their break-through song. A bit creepy!
And in that angst ridden notion, a small essay I wrote the old-fashioned way at 39,000 feet.
Destinations And Places
An Essay on Life at 39,000 Feet
Outside the plane, there stretches a vast sea of clouds so white that they appear newly laundered. Tiny specks of ocean blue penetrate the carpet below but are almost too small to notice. The plane inhabits a place were the clouds grow thin as if only tenuously connected to their brethren below.
As I look up, the wisps dissolve into the deepest blue, and for just a moment, it all feels unreal. It seems as if the gentlest nudge could send the plane into the heavens. Is our connection as brief as the clouds? Are the jet engines holding us up or down? Here it seems to have no meaning.
With no land in sight, there is at once a feeling of smallness against the backdrop of infinity and a feeling of being connected suddenly to everything and everyone. I know land lies beyond my sight, but I imagine years before when men would steer their tiny boats across the blue sea that hides beneath those clouds. And they did not know what if anything lay beyond.
Would I have their courage? Will I ever sail toward the places not found on maps? Or will I, as so many of us, persist on Mr. Frost’s proverbial more traveled road? I search the heavens for answers but come away with none. And perhaps that is better. Maybe life is meant to be lived minute by minute never knowing what lies ahead or how we will react. I guess I’ll live with the mystery and the hope that’s attached to each new day.
And now time for a long soak and a good nights sleep!
