(narrow) roads of the world

During the year in New Zealand many differences between there and here faded from my notice as "there" became "home," at least temporarily. But I never stopped marveling at the difference in the open roads. Even the major roads in New Zealand can turn into narrow, winding mountain roads. And the road is liable to turn into a single lane anytime there's a bridge of any kind, even if the bridge in question is just a few feet long and crossing a stream. At least the NZ road authority is nice enough to put up signs warning you of every one-lane bridge, and telling you exactly who has the right of way when you and another car arrive at opposite ends at the same time.



And there is, as you can see, at least one bridge in the country that with a single lane caters to two-way automobile traffic as well as the occasional train. (Trains always have the right of way).

Then we left New Zealand, and found the roads progressively get narrower. From New Zealand's one-lane bridges, we went to Scotland's one-and-half lane roads.

One-lane road with passing places
Originally uploaded by kopretinka.

The Scots do provide plenty of passing places, or spots just long enough for a car and just wide enough for two cars. In some lengths of road, there are so many passing places one side of the road appears to trace a sine wave.

Nevertheless, Ireland tops them all. The Irish just pave a lane one car wide, put stone walls on each side with no shoulder or margin of any kind, and then just throw them open to traffic in both directions. There were places I was afraid I was going to scrape both sides of my car on the rows of stacked stone, and that was before I met someone coming the other direction. I got lucky in Ireland; unlike some New Zealand trips, on the Emerald Isle I never had to back down a road after meeting another vehicle in order to reach an area wide enough for the both of us.



The entire time I was driving the Conor Pass part of my brain was filled with curiosity about what, exactly, would happen if we met another car. Another part was dreading an encounter. Most of my brain, however, was occupied with trying to keep the car on the narrow road as we wound up the hills in a dense fog.
Ireland's highest mountain pass might not stack up with the high-altitude drives of the Rockies. But the Irish certainly put a decent degree of difficulty on the whole thing.

radio

For the last month, I've been driving a car with Sirius satellite radio. It has one channel of particular interest to me: the international radio channel. Particularly the Irish and Australian broadcasts, since we listened to those channels while in rental cars in their lands of origin.

Since we've gotten back to the States, the travels have receded into the background of my mind (especially now, while working 12 hour days - everything has receded into the back of my mind as a sleep-deprived haze has blocked out most of my thoughts). Listening to foriegn radio, however, brought on a kick of nostalgia.

Also, a bit of a realization: listening to two commentators debate on Irish radio, I actually heard one concede a point to the other. When's the last time that happened on any program in the States?

bands around the world

Oct. 4, 2006

A poster caught our eye in the Beijing subway: Rock and Beer Feast 2006. Almost all the poster was in Chinese characters, rendering the information useless to us, but we managed to figure out there was a week-long, all-day music (and beer) festival somewhere in town while we were there. (and calling it a feast, instead of the more conventional fest, just made it more appealing).


In the English-language mags we found a bit more information, although still tantalizingly little: yes, it was a week-long series of concerts starting at about 2 p.m. each day. More importantly, the venue (listed as "International Sculpture Garden") was accessible by subway, the only way we could navigate Beijing. And the entry fee was less than $10.
Wednesday, we lounged around the apartment all morning. Since most of the day was shot already, we figured we'd head out to the feast to make it sound like we hadn't squandered all our time. In our mind, we figured we'd lie on the grass, listen to a couple of bands (since we had no idea what to expect, we went in figuring the quality would be poor. No chance of disappointment) and then maybe leave and figure out something else.


We showed up about three o'clock. The venue was easy enough to find, since it was literally just outside the subway stop. The "sculpture garden" ended up being an airport-sized piece of fenced-in concrete; not the perfect place to hang out in the 80-degree sunshine. A group of maybe 100 kids sat in front of the stage at one end of the cement, watching a punk band fronted by a high-school aged girl. A few more sat by the two beverage tents in the middle of the area, about 300-400 yards from the stage. The far edge was ringed with tents selling food and merchandise. The crowd seemed to be primarily 16-22 year olds, with enough exceptions to make it interesting. All in all, pretty typical. Except we were the only white faces there (a few more, looking like international college students, showed up later in the evening). And the beer sellers, who were using some sort of purchase-tickets-then-exchange-tickets-for-beer system, didn't speak English. And I didn't understand a word the bands were saying (actually, I suppose that is pretty typical).

A few bands into the day (each band got about a half-hour set) we were treated to our first taste of the bizarre: a goth-metal band, lead singer dressed in what I'm guessing was a traditional western Chinese costume (to my eye, it looked a bit like Native American garb) and everyone else in full white face paint. A few power rock chords, then out comes the traditional Chinese violin. Nice touch.

The bands weren't bad, generally. We figured out how to buy beer (3 yuan, or about 35 cents, for a big bottle of beer; 5 yuan for a smaller bottle of water). A girl at the refreshment tent took the opportunity to practice her English, helped us navigate our way through the selection and translated the names of some bands. She also keep asking us if we liked the music, near incredulous as well as excited at our answer of yes.

Just after dark came our favorite act of the night. It didn't hurt when they broke into a pop-punk cover of "You Are My Sunshine," one of three English-language songs the whole day. (I honestly can't remember what the first one was, but the other one was "Cat Scratch Fever" sang by a hard-rocking Chinese who, I'm convinced, didn't know English or have any idea what he was saying).

Many, many beers and about eight hours later, we even managed to negotiate the subway properly and make it home.


Nov. 8

Since even before we left New Zealand, it seemed like we were continuously visiting cities where a band one of us wanted to see had just been or was just about to arrive; either way, not while we were actually there. In London, we checked the gig guides and the sites of several bands we knew were touring. Again, all of them were going to miss us by at least a few weeks.

Kirsten checked on one more band, and found it, too, would miss us, playing in London while we would be in Newcastle. Then we looked at their schedule, decided to see where Gateshead was, and found out it actually was in Newcastle, at the same time we were going to be in Newcastle. So, finally, a happy coincidence and a show we wanted to see.

The show was in the Sage Gateshead, a brand-new venue on the south side of the Tyne River. From the outside, the steel-and-glass structure looks a bit like a giant, shiny slug. From the inside, it offers a brilliant view of downtown Newcastle as well as three concert halls.

The show itself, the only one on our trip we bought tickets for ahead of time, was a bit of a disappointment. I've heard Yo La Tengo's album tracks before, and I generally like them. Live, I felt they should have taken the distortion pedals away from the lead singer. There was more noise than music, and from a band whose lyrics are probably the strength, when you can't hear the lyrics it's a problem.


Nov. 11

It looked like we'd have our usual problem as we headed to Ireland. There was a band our friend Ryan had introduced us to. We discovered they'd be playing in Dublin the first weekend we'd be in Ireland. However, plans changed and it turned out we were in County Cavan the night of the show, rather than Dublin.

Our Irish friends told us they'd be taking us to Galway the next night, to see the reuniting show of one their brother's bands - they were opening for a touring band at a Galway pub. (Unfortunately for me, the name of their band has left my mind. Sorry, Alan.) We arrived in Galway a little late, and the band we came to see was off the stage. We decided to head in anyway, since two of us were on the guest list and the remaining cover wasn't that bad split between all of us.

We walked in the pub and saw chaos on stage. There were nearly 30 people up there, most of whom had no instruments (save kazoos) but were singing, blowing bubbles, throwing confetti and dancing like mad. I figured they'd grabbed a bunch of fans out of the audience. The crowd was into it, the music was catchy. It also sounded a little familiar.

Now, Ryan had only given us I'm From Barcelona's music. We had no idea what the band make-up was. So after a couple songs, when a very familiar song starts playing, Kirsten leaned over to me: "They're covering I'm From Barcelona!" Then we started to wonder. I leaned over to one of the Irish boys: "Who is this band?" "Barcelona something!"

We'd stumbled across the show of the band we'd meant to see, without any idea we were going to. It also ended up being one of the best shows we'd ever seen.

the end of the emerald

In a few hours I will be leaving Ireland. We left the Republic yesterday on a bus to Belfast. Tonight to London, then just one more stop before our final U.S. return: Monday we head to Iceland where we'll be in the dark most of the time.

Ireland has certainly lived up to its reputation for friendliness. We had a couple of contacts here when we arrived. From there our Irish network ballooned; everywhere we met people we were offered places to crash or at least had people to go and get a pint with. The Guinness really does taste better over here, music is easy to find, there are stone ruins everywhere you look. I'll have to get back here someday.

ireland is meant to be experienced indoors...

A long weekend in Galway probably led directly to the cold that hit me today. It doesn't help that Ireland, as expected, has been rainy every day and intermittently cold.
Our Irish friends took us to Galway to meet their friends, who happened to be reuniting a band for a Saturday gig. We got to the venue after their friends had finished, but in time to see the headline act, a band I'd been introduced to just weeks before. We had no idea that's who was playing, but it was an awesome show.
Then a post-show house party running until well into the next day (which I imagine weakened my immune system, allowing the current bug more or less to have its way with me). Loads of fun, and the weekend proved one of my hopes: as soon as you meet one of the Irish, you're their friend (at least if you're introduced by a mutual friend). The friends we came to Galway with left the city Sunday, but we crashed there for an extra day with the new Irish friends (and probably headed back this weekend).
Monday we hired a car (or rented, if you're in America). We've been cruising south along the West coast, taking out-of-the-way routes along windswept peninsulas. Castles, stone forts, grand views (when the clouds clear) - all of them all over the place. Monday night we ended up stopping in Ennis and discovered it was the final day of an Irish Music Fest, so we drank Guiness and listened to a traditional session.

Tonight, we're in Cork. Just arrived after dark, so will hopefully have a chance to rest and recuperate. Not sure where to next - we have the car until Monday.

and Ireland strikes back

After our experience getting through British immigration, we had another fun exchange in Ireland.

As far as I can tell, US visitors are generally given three-month tourist visas. Kirsten preceded me in line, and the official grilled her. Stamps from a year-long study abroad trip in 1997 somehow led him to believe she was a threat to stay and work in Ireland. How long are you staying? About two weeks. So she gets exactly two weeks (after he mistakenly writes two days to begin with). I go through: Are you with her? Yeah. Two weeks.
It wouldn't be a big deal, except we actually wanted 15 days. So we have to make travel plans to avoid becoming illegal overstayers in Ireland.

I'm so far behind on posting things my stories are going to be well out of date by the time they get up here - it'll probably be when I get back to the States and just want a place to put the stories.

We are now in Ireland - spent a day in Dublin and are heading west to meet our friends in Cavan (more New Zealand flatmates). This will conclude our New Zealand reunion - in the last few weeks we've seen Stephen and Reike in Germany, we just left Lang and Steph in Newcastle, and now we're off to see Paul and Kieran.

The tour has been good - it's been great to see everyone, although we haven't always had enough time to see them. We ran into a serious time crunch at the end of Germany. In Freiburg we spent a couple days with some family friends of my uncle, who showed us wonderful hospitality, took us on a day trip into France and walks in the Black Forest. We also found time to see Reike, our former flatmate, although since she was working and we only had a few days, our time was short.

We left Scotland this weekend for Newcastle and stayed with another set of flatmates, Steph and Lang. They managed to get a couple days off work and took us on tours of the countryside (and then on drinking tours of all Northern England's beers). Also had a day to wander around the city, including the old castle.

Not sure what we'll be doing the next few weeks. Two weeks in Ireland, then a weekend in London, a few days in Iceland and back to the States...

those wacky british...

Exchange with the immigration desk after arriving in Glasgow, Scotland from Germany:

Official: How long will you be staying?
Me: About 10 days.
Official: And what is your next destination?
Me: Ireland.
Official: Yeah. How long will you be staying in the UK, including the Republic of Ireland?


And I thought they'd settled the independence question years ago...

the couch-surfing tour continues

To Giessen, Germany, a small university town just north of Frankfurt. We're staying with a couple we met while sailing in Australia. We met lots of people over the course of the past year from several different countries who offered us a place to stay, but no country's people have come through on those promises quite like the Germans. We have a couple of old flatmates here we planned on visiting, and then we're breaking up the trip here and in Munich, with some travelers met on the hill trek in Thailand.
We're also getting help in Scotland, and should have a lot in Ireland. Unfortunately for Ryan, the rest of our London connections never did materialize.