What Is An Expat?

I keep hearing, or more specifically noticing lots of emergency vehicles hauling ass around all hours of day and night. Don’t hear much of that at K2…but I guess the jets and props make it up in volume. I think I noticed it more so because it was so unusual. I suppose the fire trucks here on base must have sirens, but I have never heard them, and when they are testing the alarms for “we are under attack” it sounds completely different.

Saw this interesting commercial. Now, for a fairly horrifying commercial, I am going to go ahead and say that it was amazingly well done. It started off with a smiling teenager and the narrative, “Tonight he’s going to hit his girlfriend so hard she’ll have brain damage.” It shows them piling into a car, driving around not paying a whole lot of attention, then very vividly shows them running into another vehicle, charting in slow motion each of the 4 individuals smashing into various things and flying about the vehicle. Very creative, and gives you a good example of potential consequences of forgetting to do that thing that is so very minor. I’d like to know how they did that one, it looked so unbeleivably real. Doubt you’d see that ad in the states.

Went to Trinity College, which is…a really old college. Established in the late 1500s it hosts the Book of Kells, which is a copy of the gospel manuscripts from the 8th century AD. There are a few other Books as well which are slightly less renowned, and newer. You aren’t allowed to take pictures, but it’s interesting to note that a bible today, just a book with text in it really, seems so plain contrasted with these books. The text is highly decorative and the art is intricate to say the least. All hand written or drawn.

Another bit of Trinity College trivia that you may be familiar with, though unaware of, is the Trinity College Library, that sits on the next floor up from the Book of Kells exhibits and the shop. Huge collection of books here, with rows going down the length of the room, stacked up high. At the inside ends of each stack sit sculpted marble busts of various writers. If you watch Star Wars Episode II, the Jedi library has clearly been modeled on this room. The scale is very different, but it was interesting to see the real world inspiration.

I meandered about Dublin quite a bit more but mostly it’s stuff that is only so interesting. I’m trying to give a sense of things without coming across like a history book. Knowing the history does make a huge difference in understanding many of the things though. Seeing the English occupation and the repeated failures of the Irish attempts to dislodge them makes for a sad story. At any rate, Dublin has large shopping areas and walking streets. I’m not much of a shopper so I can’t say if they had any great deals or stores that are a must-stop. Not as bad as I used to be, I am still of two minds as regards shopping:

Scenario 1 has me assaulting the objective, executing a plan with precision and attention to detail, and extricating without taking losses. It’s more like a raid really…10 minutes would be a long time door to door.

Scenario 2 is a very different beast. This is not usually an action I am involved in by myself. Usually there would be a creature called a woman. These women like to amble throughout every single square inch of an establishment and scrutinize each individual item. But wait! It gets better! Then comes a bizarre sort of compare/contrast stage when this mysterious creature will hold up items together and look forlornly back and forth in search of perfection. Me – I appreciate the best, but I’m settling for less, I’m looking for the next best thing….

Sorry, I was possessed by the spirit of Zevon for a minute there. Hold on, is he even dead yet?

Anyways, so that’s what a woman creature does while shopping. My part of that puzzle is substantially different. Time slows down. Some times it even stops. Then the Shopping Demon appears and tries to steal me. It whispers ever so slowly and softly in my ear, “relax, this is going to take a long time…won’t you just have a nap instead” while gently massaging the top of my neck at the base of the skull. With sinister intent it wraps me in some type of heavy comfy blanket so I can barely move, and that nap starts to sound really good. After all, why would it lie to me? It seems so friendly, just wants me to relax while the shopping goes on, why fight such torture? It only wants to help, all I have to do is close my ever-crossing eyes (fight it damn you!) and drift away on a raft out in the ocean, bobbing peacefully in the waves anzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

AH! Loud noise!

Alternately, I might be reeaallll tempted to throw myself on the floor and have a fit about not liking shopping, too.

So to make a long story shor…to sum up, don’t like shopping.

Speaking of women, I have to say I was disappointed by the women in Ireland (in general.) Obviously, there were some really great looking ones, don’t get me wrong. It’s rather ironic that the coolest one I’d meet would turn out to be American. It’s just the ones I saw in general looked sloppy and unmotivated. Sweat pants are popular in Ireland, and by that I mean it’s more or less the required uniform. Throw in overweight women in half shirts without bras and it’s a bit much. Not really all that friendly, either. After mentioning this to The Mister Tom Flood he concurred. He’d been there before and noticed the same thing. He related asking some guy there about it, who responded with something along the lines of “yeah, they’re like that. We don’t talk to them either.”

Speaking of Irish women, how about one who is well renowned for her beauty and shall we say, bosom? I’m sorry the photo is out of focus, but you should be able to make out what I am referring to.

From what I have read, it seems that an old legend keeps taking new form as people keep well…making things up. The tale of Molly Malone who sold fish, died of typhus, and may have been a prostitute (prior, of course, to the dying part) has been immortalized in songs and pub names. However, so much debate exists over the details of her tragic tale that it’s hard to be sure she really existed, or at least how far from the truth the tales have become.

Next morning it’s off to Newgrange.