Ireland Best Blogs
The best Irelandlogue blog entries, selected by the blogger.
Bizarre Irish Kidnapping case
Has this story registered a blip on the US news radar?
A pair of grandparents in Ireland flew to the states and kidnapped their grandson. I have heard on the radio that the grandfather’s daughter reported that her father promised that if he was able to retrieve his grandson from the states he would kill him rather than have him returned and raised as an American. Whether he said that or not, the grandparents certainly did feel strongly enough about their grandson being raised by him mother in Chicago that they kidnapped him, leading the US courts to issue a warrant for their arrest with $2million bail. Had they been convicted, the grandparents would have faced a manditory 6 years in prison with a maximum sentence of 30 years in prison.
Date: November 17th, 2006 |
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Me on the Gerry Ryan show
So there I was, riding my bike into work this morning when the mobile goes off. I pull it out and look down: a Dublin number. Hm. I answer it,
“Hi, Sean?”
“Yes?”
“Sean, this is Therese from the Gerry Ryan show, I understand you have pumpkin carving parties every year?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, we’d be interested in talking to you on the show, if that’s all right.”
I almost walked into oncoming traffic.
Date: October 27th, 2006 |
2 comments
Snakes return to Ireland?
Jiminy Christmas I feel so high tech.
I have been using a palm pilot since my friend Jason introduced me to them in the 90s. When I was travelling I purchased one of those collapseable keyboards so that, if I wanted, I could use my little organiser as a tiny laptop, getting some writing done wherever and whenever I wanted. Hey, for less than half the cost and half the size of a laptop, I was getting everything I needed done.
Never has it felt cooler: I am currently sitting in our hotel room in Cork typing this on my palm, which has automatically logged into their wireless network so I can post this to my blog.
Talk about techno-bliss.
Date: October 4th, 2006 |
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The Irish Macaroon Bar
This is a celebration of a little known, but potent, piece of Irishness.
The Irish Macaroon bar.
Its manufacture is steeped in mystery. It says there right on the label: “secret recipe”. That’s right, SECRET. Well, your faithful author can reveal that, whatever else is used, our extensive tests have revealed the definate presence of CHOCOLATE!
Blogger takes a quick look around to see if anyone heard him.
The bars are packaged in a deceptively plain wrapper, but DON’T BE FOOLED. The contents are more magnificent …
Date: September 24th, 2006 |
1 comment
The Athlone IRA Statue
Well, my posting on Northern Ireland has spawned a lot of conversations out here. I mentioned that Athlone has an IRA statue and it was pointed out to me that not all of the readers of this blog may understand that the IRA statue was erected for is NOT the modern IRA terrorists we hear so much about, but the soldiers who died to make possible the current sovereign Republic of Ireland. Comparing the two would be like comparing a more aggressive version of the Montana Freemen to George Washington.
The statue here in Athlone is dedicated to the Athlone brigade of the original Irish army who fought for independence from England, just like the US once did.
So, I took my trusty aul digital camera down to the middle of town and snapped some photos so ye can see it for yourselves.
First off, the statue has a couple of inscriptions, the first one is:
The second one
Date: September 17th, 2006 |
1 comment
Dublin Airport conversation
So there I was sitting on a bench in Dublin airport minding my own business when this guy came up to me.
“How’s it goin?” he asked.
“Good,” I replied.
“So, these new airport regulations are woeful,” he said with a big smile.
“Yeah? Why the big smile then?” Disturbed, I suddenly noticed he was wearing make-up.
“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty happy guy.” He looked around before turning back to me, “You Irish?”
“I am on paper,” I replied. “My dad was born here and I’ve been living here for going on 5 years, but I’m originally from San Francisco. What about yourself - you Irish?”
“No, but I get that a lot - I guess it’s the red hair,” he chuckled and gestured at the huge afro-like mop of red hair on his head. “I’ve got a real Scottish-sounding name, but I’m from the states as well.”
He sat down next to me I began to feel uncomfortable, like I’d just eaten some bad food.
Date: November 6th, 2006 |
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McNeill’s Pub, Athlone
This is another one of the those old, authentic bars that seem to be on the verge of dying out here in Ireland. This pub has been owned and run by the same family for at least the last 100 years. McNeill’s used to be the first pub that farmers and traders would come across on the way into town. Nowadays, it’s one of the quietest pubs in town. The larger bars across the street beckon the modern clientelle, despite McNeill’s excellent location at the corner of Connaught Street.
I can personally vouch for the quality of their pints. Just look at the beauty there to the left.
Date: October 15th, 2006 |
3 comments
Fecking hamsters
So, when we first arrived in Ireland we got everyone’s best George Bush/texan impersonation. Usually something along the lines of a VERY bad “Oh miiiie gaaahhhhd, yir frum UH-mare’kuh?”
We laughed. It wasn’t meant in a derragatory way and it was genuinely funny. Besides, Irish actors have been doing dead-on American accents for years (we won’t even get into the litany of bad Irish accents by US actors), it’s a relief to see not all Irish people can do it.
As we settled into life here, we were faced with a different kind of stereotype: that of the Californian. Most Irish people have visited New York, Boston or Florida. After all, the US is a big place. Flying six hours to get to New York is enough. Another four hours in a plane to get to the west coast? No thanks! Therefore, while the Irish have a reasonably accurate idea of what the east coast is like, their ideas of the west coast come mostly from Baywatch.
Date: September 26th, 2006 |
2 comments
Nightclubs and the etiquette of Irish drinking
Irish pubs close at 11.30pm. They close at 12.30am on Fridays, Saturdays or nights before a bank holiday.
From Thursday through the weekend, strolling around your average Irish town after 2am means you will be greeted by THRONGS of young people in the street, searching for a taxi or a quick food fix from the local chipper (this is a phenomenon I had never noticed before moving here - alchohol in Ireland is, apparently, laced with a substance that makes you really hungry for disgusting food at early hours in the morning . . . mmmm, garlic curry cheese and bacon chips, mmmmm . . . ). So, where are they all coming from?
The night club.
Ah, yes, but how do they get there? On a Thursday? Well, to understand this, you need a bit of background on “going for a drink” here in Ireland.
There’s a thing about going for a pint in Ireland. When you go “for one,” it never means one. Hospitality won’t allow it.
Date: September 23rd, 2006 |
1 comment
Flannery’s
So this evening I headed out to Flannery’s for the Saturday session. The roads were wet with rain and the streets were full of celebratory Junior Certs in search of The Pub That Does Not Check For ID. I met a friend for a couple before heading across town with the bodhrán in search of music. I was greeted at the doorway with the news that Flannery’s was hosting an end of summer party.
“In September?” I asked. The answer was the same.
Flannery’s is one of those pubs that most people miss. In the old style, the family that owns the pub live right behind it (from the right angle, you can see the kitchen of their home through the door behind the bar). Because Flannery’s strives neither to appeal to the crowds of young drinkers nor to the pensioners who make drinking a part of their daily routine, it has managed to preserve the quiet, cozy ambiance of a pub in a much smaller town from days past.
Open only one or two days of the week, it’s rare to find the door open.
Inside, the place is wedged. I dodge a couple waltzing to the music and locate a seat at the bar next to a friend. The bartender catches my eye and nods toward the Guinness tap - my pint is on the way.
Flannery’s shelves are literally overflowing with knick-knacks from acround the world. Faded drink advertisements from bygone days are scattered throughout. The lighting is a dim gold, casting a forgiving light on the worn surfaces. The huge set of horns from Africa mounted in the shadows to a ceramic mug from Yosemite amongst the clutter behind the bar, testify that Flannery’s has seen a lot of visitors over its lifetime. It’s an older generation (mostly) here in Flannery’s. While in the jax I overheard two men saying,
“There’s no more places like this, sure there’s not.”
“Ah, what will we do when this is gone?”
Date: September 16th, 2006 |
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