Rattling Blog

The group enjoying the view of the coast from above a fishing dock

Last weekend a group of us American tourists took a short DART ride to Dalkey (daw-key... while asking for directions a kind Dalkey resident told me how to say it so that I don't sound like a tourist... too late!), proud home of Bono and other upperclass citizens... such as the Embassy of Morocco (apparently they're too good to have theirs in Dublin like the rest of us...), many owners of bentleys and other people who live in houses that look like castles. In fact, we walked right by the Dalkey Castle without even knowing (that's how small it is), but many of the houses along the coast we stopped to stare at and take pictures (unless they were home- in that case, we'd walk by, act cool, maybe take an incognito picture or two).

Moroccan Embassy

We took a little stroll along the coast, accidentally passed Bono's house (Liz and Kate went back to check it out, but the rest of us went straight to the pub... turns out he wasn't home and his house was covered in plastic being renovated), talked to a woman with the cutest child and a pregnant dog, got a little lost, but finally made it back to the pub where we started: Patrick Ivory's. This is where we spent 75% of our trip to Dalkey... first stop and last stop. For lunch we had the best service we've had since arriving in Ireland (usually they don't do refills and practically ignore you until you raise your hand or yell across the room), so we decided to go back to watch the Ireland vs. France rugby match which was at Stade de France. This moment marked the first rugby match I have ever seen and the time when I fell in love with a French rugby player named Dimitri Szarzewski (also known as the only reason I watched the entire game... except sometimes I couldn't even look at the screen because he's that goodlooking).

After the match there was an Irish trad band playing called Skin the Goat... this is when we meet Damien (the only reason I remember his name is because he gave us his email address so that we could update him on our trip later on)... the hardcore rugby fan hothead pothead. Damien, around age 30, who was making out with his girlfriend when he wasn't talking to our table asked me to request a song called "the Rattling Bog" (with full lyrics) to Skin the Goat... why? because he said that they wouldn't accept his request if he went up there... probably true. So of course I did it, not even knowing that I was asking the band to play an old Irish sing-a-long with 11 verses. They looked at me with fear and said "we'll give it a go." I sat back down and listened to Damien's favorite song and watched as he sadly knew most of it. Every 15 or 20 seconds he would tap me on the shoulder and sing a bit louder, reminding me that he knew the words. It went a little something like this:

Chorus:

Hey ho, the rattling bog,

The bog down in the valley-o,

Hey ho, the rattling bog,

The bog down in the valley-o.

1. Now in this bog there was a tree.

A rare tree. A rattling tree.

Tree in the bog

And the bog down in the valley-o.

Chorus:

(then 9 more verses)

11. Now in this eye there was a gleam.

A rare gleam. A rattling gleam.

Gleam in an eye.

Eye on a flea.

Flea on a feather.

Feather on a bird.

Bird on an egg.

Egg in a nest.

Nest on a twig.

Twig on a branch.

Branch on a limb.

Limb on a tree.

Tree in the bog

And the bog down in the valley-o.

Chorus:

Now I have made just a quick rendition in honor of the love that was formed that day in that bar through that television screen:

Chorus:

Hey ho, the rattling bog,

The bog down in the valley-o,

Hey ho, the rattling bog,

The bog down in the valley-o.

1. Now in this bog there was a stade,

A rare stade. A rattling stade

Stade in the bog

And the bog down in the valley-o.

(chorus)

...(no need to carry this on for 6 verses)…

8. Now in this piercing blue eye there was a gleam.

A rare gleam. A rattling gleam.

Gleam in a piercing blue eye

Piercing blue eye on a perfect face

Perfect face on a model’s body

Model’s body of a athletic god

Athletic god of a winning team

Winning team on a rugby field

Rugby field in a stade

Stade in the bog

And the bog down in the valley-o.

Hey ho, the rattling bog,

The bog down in the valley-o,

Hey ho, the rattling bog,

The bog down in the valley-o.

And I just found out that I'm not lying about the modeling part...

enjoy! :)

Who Am I?

In grade school I remember doing “Who am I?” projects where I would research a historical figure related to our studies and develop important aspects of their lives into clues and others in my class would try to guess who I was talking about. I would like to reintroduce this model for someone in my program in Dublin… good luck!

1. Beginning on the first day in Ireland, I have been known to organize morning meeting times in the lobby of our apartments with at least 15 extra travel minutes in case of wrong turns/inclement weather/picture taking/persons of the group getting hit by speeding car. I have a no man left behind policy.

2. I was beaming with tourist joy when I opened my Rick Steves Ireland book (bible #2) on my birthday.

3. I own an umbrella that is basically indestructible through wind, rain, snow and lightning (also a good weapon for pickpocketers) that I hold high when others umbrellas our absolutely destroyed by sprinkling rain.

4. I find it riskay to wear my calf high boots OUTSIDE of my jeans.

5. I feel uncomfortable in trendy stores and find myself magnetized to items that closest resemble the image of jcrew.

6. I bought a 2 liter of Bulmer’s irish cider in Northern Ireland and was still drinking the same bottle 2 weeks later in Dublin.

7. While in Malehide I found myself irritable waiting in line for over 5 minutes for the zipline at the castle’s playground while 2 children were having the time of their lives. Eventually (after some kicking and screaming) I was convinced to walk away.

8. I keep a miniature lock on the smallest pocket of my backpack, where I keep my blackberry, money, Rick Steves handbook, bandaids and other valuables/emergency items.

9. I was the first person of our group to buy a reusable lunch box (which happened to be bright pink) complete with oversized plastic silverware and enough compartments for 1 pb&j (cut into triangles, just like the good ol days), 1 serving of cut up fruit, and 2 cookies for dessert (keep in mind this is all gluten free).

10. I carry mace on my keychain, and I’m not afraid to use it.

W

H

O

A

M

I

?

ITSSSS MEGGG!!!

"You guys- check out that slide!!!"

Meg waiting in line for the zipline... with her backpack on.

Ohh the little things in life...

Life in Dublin wouldn't be the same without you darling. Love you Meg.

Mr. Tubbs, Grubs and Pubs

The staples to every weekend.

Babs wheelin it

"Oh my gosh where are you guys going?!?" As we wheel ourselves out of Blackhall's high security facility (almost prison-esque) on a Saturday morning, it would be a easy mistake to assume that we were going out of town for the weekend: maybe London, maybe Rome, maybe even Paris... but most likely just 6 blocks down the river to Mr. Tubbs Launderette for about an hour. After giving the laundry facility here at our classy apartments a more than fair try, we decided that spending 15 euro for 2 loads of laundry at Mr. Tubbs was entirely worth it because it only took an hour and our clothes were dryer than the Sahara. This "facility" in the dark lonely basement of our apartment building (next to a underground parking garage...) is comprised of 2 washers the size of my face and 1 dryer (which I am convinced is also a washer). Last time we did laundry there right before our trip to Northern Ireland, my clothes sat out after coming out of the dryer that entire weekend in my room and were not completely dry when I got back... WHAT. SOooo yea, I have to put my clothes into an oversized metallic silver 4 wheel drive suitcase that I fondly call the Tin Man and wheel them 10 minutes down the bumpy, cobblestone road to a miracle man named Mr. Tubbs. And yea, I have to pay 7 baguettes worth at Londis for these clean, dry clothes but hey, who's going to be friends with a smelly wrinkly looking girl? So we sit (eating cookies)... watching our euros wash away...

All that laundry sure did work up a nice appetite for us... so why not trash the kitchen once again with a great fajita feast complete with fried cinnamon tortillas filled with fruit for dessert?? When in Rome...? And when a girl's got clean clothes she's gotta go out to the pub! Sadly enough my favorite part of going out is seeing how many different coasters I can collect... so you could guess how excited I was today at lunch in Malehide when I found not just ONE new coaster but FOUR that go together!! GOLD MINE.

Ok so now that I've really looked at it I realize that I accidentally took 3 of the same one, therefor there are 2 missing pieces to the puzzle.... BUT it's still cool (right?). Whatever... I'm just happy to have one free hobby.

So once we worry about the Tubbs, Grubs and Pubs, we decide what other elements we're going to throw in there to mix it up a bit... maybe a castle or two, a sports game (the italy versus ireland rugby game was today... the amount of crazy green leprechauns flooding this city was remarkable... ireland won no big deallll), a museum or something random that we get in Genevieve's weekly to-do emails. This weekend's "mixer" was a little trip to Malehide, a small coastal town about 30 minutes north of here. We saw the castle (with a few lame peacocks walking around hiding their feathers), had lunch at a nice little pub where I scored the coasters, and strolled around the town for a little, touched the irish sea and DARTed back to Dubs

The Malehide Castle... under construction but still pretty

The Malehide Castle Playground (I spent more time here than the actual castle)

The castle peacocks (which I watched for a solid 5 minutes while making animal noises at in hopes of a little feather show... nothin.)

The gorgeous view of the coast after sunset... time to call it a day

k bye! :)