If I were young, I'd flee this town

so I've noticed a lot of traffic hitting my blog due to the fact that I named it after a very popular Beirut song(see below). Seemingly a few of you out there appreciate the lyrics of one Zach Condron (Irish surname *by* the way!). so over the next few days I'll try to transcribe my understanding of the lyrics for The Elephant Gun as I hear them...This will take time as he over samples his voice in a few places during the song! Plus he likes to sing like he's taken a shot or two of whiskey...

Seemingly the young lad is quite fond of whiskey..Or so he claimed when I saw him play Glastonbury in 2007.

The Elephant gun

If I was young I'd flee this town,
I'd bag my dreams, underground,
As did I, we drink to die,
We drink to ni-i-i-ight!
Far from home, the elephant gun,
is takes them down, one by one
but lay it down, its not been found, its not around

let the seasons begin,and all was right
let the seasons begin, take the done
let the seasons begin, when the world was right
let the seasons begin,

	Beirut - Elephant Gun
	Found at skreemr.com

So when were you going to tell me? I kind of expect news from time to time. Not from BBC, not from google - but from my friends!!

So Ronnie is dead! Shit, that's massive news. A legend of our time has passed on. Mr. Dublin( not like Damien Dempsey the wannabe prick) is gone. Last night I was in a bar, funnily enough there was 90% Irish there and we had a right old knees up in his honour. The Vietnamese Dj was a little put out, but we're bigger than he so he had to take a back seat.

Anyway, here's to you, Ronnie Drew you goddamn legend! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9T7OaDDR7i8

In my opinion( subjectively speaking!) I think he represented a league of Irish poets that Ireland is losing on scale that equates to an artistic famine. What made Irish musicians and artists fantastic in the past was a true feelings of repression, suppressed emotions and troubled thoughts that could never be expressed in common language.

We no longer have the fuel that feeds true expression. Greed on a massive scale, obsessive notions on the latest threads,cars and mortgage rates. Where are the people who remember walking through a field (barefoot if you want to get romantic) and actively talk about it. Where are those who yield to latent memories of a childhood spent in the woods, the fields, the marts of good old Ireland?

U2 gave their best work in the eighties, when Ireland was crippled with an economic recession and lost it as soon as the bubble began to rise. And so the trend continues..

We have the likes of Paddy Casey, curly haired and fond of the drink - does that cover it? Does that fill the void? Not half enough. We've lost it. Nil muid fos in an caint as gaeilge, nil muid fos in an labhair leis ar teanga nadurtha.

Anyway, this is just a little rant - indulge me! To the end of a legends life! Rock on Ronnie!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3M7e_Z0BXuw

Hi again, its been a while since I've updated the blog regarding anything travel related. I guess I got tired of thinking about the blog as I traveled around, tired of thinking about how to describe the place each time I arrived somewhere new. It is preferable to experience a place and write about it in reflection.

I've also reached a new milestone since my last travel update, turning 30 last Monday, I am now officially 'socially dead'. Any dancing I do on the dancefloors of bars will be met with head shakes and displays of disgust from the svelte young things slinking about in their 20something frames. I'm really happy about it to be honest( the age change, not the scowling) - I needed a good excuse to stop making a tool out of myself in bars. Apart from Sinead and Jacinta I now think all my friends are in their 30s. Jesus....How did that happen? Ohwell, best take it with dignity.

So anyway, since Saigon I have have been traveling up north stopping off at various places along the way. I took an 8 hour bus from Saigon to Dalat on the hope of catching up with another traveller I'd met earlier. They disappeared off the proverbial radar and I took the hint. ;) Never mind, I was glad to leave Saigon behind.

Dalat is located in the Vietnamese highlands and as a result the climate is temperate. Nothing like the melting heat of Saigon or the searing heat of other places I'd visit. Its called the Paris of Vietnam, its nothing like Paris, but I guess its more to do with the fact that the French colonials took to the place as a retreat from the rest of Vietnam. I stayed in Dalat for about 5 days. Zooming around on a scooter, sometimes tailing the 'official' tourist guides I'd meet on the road in the off chance I'd end up at a cool and hidden beauty spot. More than once I ended up at one of their homes. Another time I followed a guy for 25 km on the motorway before losing him in some convoluted intersection. I suspect he spotted me and pulled a Steve McQueen on me. Bastard..

Dalat the town is centered around a lake, (which comes equipped with crass pedal boat swans,) - its quite a popular tourist spot for Vietnamese and for that reason has a nice air to it. There is the usual plethora western tourists, but they're not as visible in the Vietnamese-tourist mass. I stayed in an amazing hotel whilst there, which served up a breakfast so vast that I reckon I gained a kg or two rather than losing it to this damn heat.

I decided early on in my time in Dalat that the next leg of my journey would not take place on a bus. So options such as cycling to Nha Trang presented themselves. Then I came across an alternative, taking the EasyRider Tour. Dalat is the base for a group of enthusiastic motorbike riders who are willing to drive you up north for an agreed price. Along the way they stop off at seemingly random places to explain to you a little about the history of Vietnam or to introduce you to some locals harvesting bamboo. I took 2 tours with Easyrider. The first was a tour around Dalat, where I earned myself the easy rider mark of distinction - super sunburned knees. Dalat may be temperate but boy can that sun burn you! The first trip was a great taste of the trip to come.

We visited flower farms(is that what they are called?), silk factories and a stopped at a load of amazing beauty spots. The silk factory was especially interesting. Watching the girls drop the cocoons into warn water to find the thread and then hooking it up so that it could be extracted from the cocoon. Seeing the machines they use to create the fabric, giant machines with elaborate punch hole cards that cycle through the device. Preventing or allowing certain needles to pass through and thus create the patterns in the silk. The larvae themselves are pretty tasty too. Kinda sweet, but crunchie at the same time.

We visited a Elephant waterfall, named so because of the rock formations at the bottom rather than for the presence of actual elephants(that would be later!). I tried my damnedest to kill myself by climbing around the waterfall trying to get a compelling photo. I ended up with some standard shots. Thats the problem with waterfall, the damn things don't like to be captured.

Then finally we ended up at the Crazy House in Dalat. Designed by a Vietnamese woman who spent most of her life in Russia, the house certainly lives up its name. Without denigrating it too much it is a combination of Gaudi like organic shapes and strange animal themes. The house is also available in a hotel capacity although I can't imagine anyone really wanting to stay there. While the building is a sight to behold, the macabre style in some of the rooms is not something I personally would like to wake to. See for yourself!...


P.S Happy birthday Cillian

Labels: travel

So I heard on a phone call home recently that our neighbours dog had died. Small news you might think, but everyone of us that leaves home on a trip ponders before each call what the bad news could be on this occasion.**

For me on one of my more recent calls it was the fact that Molly had passed away. Molly was no ordinary dog, although she was the 'property' of our neighbour she was a pet for everyone who live on our street. From a young age Molly endeared herself, along with her owners, to the inhabitants of Sharon Avenue. Allow me to explain...

Molly, was a cross breed - daughter of a sheepdog and a laborador she was a right-off on the Krufts circuit, but she was meant for greater things. She looked more labrador than anything, with a coat so sleek and so black she looked ten times the pedigree her lineage allowed. I've no idea if the family knew what they were letting themselves in for when the arrived with this bundle of joy undertoe.

Molly would without shame make her way from house to house reeling off her latest tricks. But all that came after she unleashed her intro trick. Dropping a tennis ball at your heels and prompting you to kick it off for her. She would chase that ball with such velour that I to this day wish I held any passion of similar strength. Things progressed and the games grew. Introduction of a tennis racket (later a cumain) and a 200 yard strike were no deterrent. She'd chase that ball till the end of time.

After a day of ball chasing she would do her collection round. Popping by with her latest tricks to wow us and earn a treat. Opening our backdoor was not an obstacle, sitting our kitchen chairs whilst doing the beg wasn't even a challenge. She worked us like a circus audience, not looking for an untoward gain, just innocent demand and supply. We lapped it up..as did all the residents.

I guess where I'm going with this is that Molly, in my mind was a special dog. While her passing has no affect on my current context it is news that deserves reflection. She grew old with pride. Took deafness on the chin and remained a distinct part of our family until the day she last ' called round'.

I'll miss her inquisitive sniff as I exit the car next time I get home.

This story isn't meant to insult or detract from the gravest of news one could receive whilst away from home. Quite honestly, if this is as bad as it gets I can live with the longing for loved ones. But sometimes its good to reflect on the state of affairs, today I'm reflecting on you Molly.

WooF!




**Note: this is possibly an Irish thing! So indulge me!

Years ago I read a great short story about a couple who fell in love as a result of their love of numbers. It was fiction of course, but the depth of research which the author used gave a sincerity to the tale which stood with me for years. To this day as a matter of fact.

The story revolved around around a guy who found special significance in dates. Or at least the format of dates and the uniqueness they carry. Today is one of those dates. I doubt many of you will see this post before this 'significant' date/time arrives. But today at eight minutes past eight we will experience a date that occurs once in a lifetime.

08.08.08 08:08:08

In the story they referred to it as a repeater, there are a few in every century, but few of us will get to experience more than 10. So that makes today pretty special. For me I have chosen to take dates like this as an impetus to do something different.

On my 10,000Th day on earth I took the day off and had a special birthday( in the process I got sunburned at Dun Laoghaire docks). Not a wide step into the wild, but a celebration nonetheless. I'm not sure how I'm going to live differently today - smile at a stranger, take a cooking class? The prospects are wide open!

Today is a once in a lifetime day( as are most days) but use the significance of the numbers we apply as reinforcement that you should try something new today. I will report back with what I got up to.

What did you do with yours? :)


Note: Inspiration for this story came from a short story in a book called Beast, published by Granta (63). I cannot recommend the book enough!

As some of you may know I've been hinting at relocating to China in September as opposed to the planned NZ trip. A big sidestep from what I had originally planned for my world travels but a response to a deep amour for a land so rich in history and culture.

Sometimes our simplest decisions carry with them a payload of complex factors that turn them into what feels like a conspiracy or a mistake. I chose teaching as my prefered role. Having entertained the idea of aiming for a job with Microsoft again I decided that this would merely be a repetition of the life I'd been living previously. Nothing ventured nothing gained and in this case teaching was the (ad)venture that would afford me a whole new world of experiences that seemed attractive and complimentary to my personality.

So I set about applying for jobs while I was there.**(See note.) Getting an interview was easy enough, getting an interview with a school/company who could help get you your visa was a whole other matter. The government were restricting the flow of visas to foreigners( visiting and those already in the country). The oft cited excuse was 'security in and around the olympics'.

I woke this morning thinking about the situation and decided to do a little sniffing around. I didn't trust the promise of a government so adept at lying to its own people. I came across the following article and whilst I cannot verify the assumptions I can sense there is a truth behind it.

So for now my chances of a future in China look bleak. I will persevere as this is an opportunity I feel would serve me well. But once again it leaves me with a question mark on my lips when the question - "So what next?" is directed at me.

I'll keep you posted..but please read on as the subject is quite interesting.

"Something extraordinary is happening in China...
and we are not talking about the Olympics. Rather, Chinese officials have been clamping down on visa applications and implementing bureaucratic impediments to new and renewed visa applications under the guise of pre-Olympic security.

In some ways, Beijing’s plan for a safe and secure Olympics appears based on the premise that if no one shows up, there can be no trouble. But placing restrictions on the movement of managers and employees of foreign businesses operating in China, even if for a limited time as Chinese officials have been at pains to reassure, makes little sense from the standpoint of gaining political and economic benefits from hosting the Olympics. Something just isn’t right" Continued here...

Credit for this article goes to : http://www.stratfor.com

(NOTE: I can hear some of you ask what the hell qualifies me to teach english? Apparently being native, with related experience and qualifications entitles you to a role teaching the English language to the youths of China. I'm currently hammering through my TEFL Qualification whilst trying to correct all those poor speaking habits I've developed over the years. )