Best Week Ever

The last time someone said I had the best week ever it included saving a life (kinda, but not really) and getting a hole-in-one.  This just may trump that.  Plus, this is me saying I probably had the best week ever, which carries more weight probably.  I don't even know where to begin.  And I just had a homemade Irish coffee to celebrate slash loosen up the fingers.  So pardon if I get sort of all over the place on you.

I guess I'll just go chronologically.  Probably makes the most sense.  I can't remember if I told y'all about when I entered a commercial competition a while back or not.  Anyway, me and two other people created this commercial and entered in the contest in hopes of winning and getting lots of cash for our artistic genius.  We were finalists.  We didn't win.  Months went by.  Then, out of nowhere, they want to buy our commercial.  It was very exciting.  Disclaimer: we didn't make a lot of cash, but we made some. So that's nice.  I think it will only be on the internet, but I'm not sure.  Regardless, here it is for your viewing pleasure.

Since moving to LA last year (kinda crazy to think I've been here over a year now, really dosen't seem like it) I have been looking for an agent (both commercial and theatrical) and have made little headway.   Well, through some networking I managed to get a meeting with an agent I hadn't met before.  A friend of mine works as an intern at this particular agency and that is the reason she agreed to see me.  After about a 30 minute meeting she offered to take me on.  So, obviously I am excited about that.  We still haven't actually signed anything, but have a handshake deal and plan to meet soon to sign the papers and what have you.

Lastly, and what I am most excited about is what happened today.

I've always wanted to be one of those people with a really cool job.

Let me back up a little bit.  There is a website which I have been a fan of for some time, and I have applied for a position here on a previous occasion.  I didn't get it the first go 'round, which I expected, but it also kept me from applying to a similar job not too long after the first had been filled.  Anyway, a different site that it is affiliated with recently posted an opening for a paid internship.  I applied.  The submission was to include, résumé, cover letter, 10 pictures that you thought fit the branding of the site, and a 1-minute video as to why you were the perfect candidate for the job.  About a week went by without hearing anything, so I assumed that it was a similar fate to the first time I applied.

On my way to work (as a caddy at a country club) I got a call from a number I didn't know.  I was driving, and since I didn't know the number, made no effort to put my earphones in to answer.  Once I saw they left a message and I was at a red light, I put in my handsfree device and pressed play on the voicemail.  It was "John, from Tapiture".  Well.  Isn't that exciting?  He wants to talk more about my submission over the phone.  I call back.  We talk for a few minutes and he wants me to come in to meet in person and continue the dialogue.  I am supposed to work this tournament, so I ask to schedule the meeting for tomorrow.  Perfect.  As I sign in at the caddyshack, the caddy master says they don't need me today.  Well, that would have been nice to know before not being available for an awesome interview.  I call the gentleman back and inform him that I am now available to meet anytime today if that is preferable.  It is.  The meeting is set for 1:30(which is 3 hours from where we are in the story).  I call T&L just to talk to someone while I start to panic.  They give very good advice about what to do.  Maybe go real early, park, walk around, have some lunch, and grab a beer.  Then make sure to chew some gum after the lunch and beer, before interviewing.  I agree it's a good plan.  

I am invited into the inner sanctum of this place I have so long been a fan of.  To even be taken behind the curtain and see how it is run is something fans of this site would pay large sums of money to do.  I meet and greet some people, get the tour, etc before heading into the conference room to be asked questions I haven't had really any time to prepare for.  This part goes well enough, though I do get real nervous mid-interview as I feel I've been rambling for too long and just stop mid-sentence acknowledging I am rambling, and that the interviewer should revert back to the last time I stopped talking as my answer, because at that point, I had answered the question, and there was no need to continue to "expand/say the same things over and over again".  He then introduces me to another member of the team for some more questions and whatnot, then he returns for one last session.  We talk about potential compensation, when would I be able to start yadda yadda, then finally asks again if I have any more questions.  I ask, timidly, if there would potentially be any flexibility regarding acting, or if I would just have to make the decision to stop pursuing that.  The answer was perfect.  I can't really remember verbatim what it was, but, it was exactly what I wanted to hear.  Essentially, "yes, there would be some flexibility, it's all about managing life, and just making sure the work gets done.  As long as the communication was there, and the work doesn't suffer, then go for it.  And if it gets to a point where it's taking up more time than we would like, we can have the talk--- you know, where we discuss maybe bumping down to part time."  So I guess that's actually pretty close to verbatim.

He leaves the room.  

Comes back.

"I have to be honest...."

Ok cool, they liked be but it isn't the right fit.  At least I got to interview and see the offices (which I neglected to mention are on the beach).

"....we don't normally do this, but we really like you and thought you had some good answers.  If your interested, we'd love to extend an offer."

Oh, well then.  Offer accepted.

This all happened in a 6-hour span.  From when I received the voice mail, to walking out of the office with an offer sheet, I would have probably still been lining up putts for a 30 handicapper who thought it was my fault he couldn't get out of the bunker(err sand trap, except it's a bunker, because there is no trap, it's there for you to see, no tricks, nor traps, just don't hit it there).  

As I was driving home and debriefing the family, I could hardly contain my excitement.  This is the type of job, that even if I'm not able to act while doing it, I truly believe I will enjoy it enough to be OK with that.  And what else could I possible ask for?  A creative job, on the beach, with beer on tap not twenty feet from my desk.  Pretty perfect.

So tomorrow, I launch into a new adventure, not entirely sure what it holds or where it will take me.  But I have a feeling it will be a helluva ride.

Looking Ahead to Veterans Day

I'm not sure one of our personal heroes, and one of your national heroes, would post this himself and so I am doing it for him.  I know at least my small family is really working on our charitable giving, on discovering where we feel called to give and investing in the causes that pull at our hearts.  This is one of them.  Please read this letter from my brother -

Family, Friends, Squadron-mates, People who erroneously gave me their contact information-

First, forgive the email intrusion. Second forgive me for using the intrusion to ask for money. Yes this is real, not a contest or phishing or anything nefarious – for that I’m sorry.

For those of you still with me, a group of folks at Harvard Kennedy School (me included) are borrowing from the “Mo’vember” movement and growing mustaches from October 15^th until our Veteran’s Day observance at school on November 13^th.  Why mustaches? We are sacrificing our dignity and good looks in order to raise awareness for homelessness, specifically in the veteran community.

Veterans make up a disproportionately large part of the homeless population. So much so that the Department of Veterans Affairs has made a goal of completely eradicating homelessness among veterans in five years: http://www.va.gov/homeless/

In the mean time, there are folks on the street that can use our help. To that end, our group’s mustaches are meant to raise awareness among our peers for two charitable causes that aid the homeless population in our community. The links below will lead you to our chosen shelters, where you will have an opportunity to donate to support me and the specific shelter of your choice, should you feel inclined.

To donate to the New England Center for Homeless Veterans, click here:

http://www.crowdrise.com/hkstache-veteransshelter/fundraiser/m021518

To donate to the Harvard Square Homeless Shelter, click here: 

http://www.crowdrise.com/hkstache-harvardshelter/fundraiser/m021518 

If you have already donated, thank you. If you wish not to donate, please forgive the intrusion. I will probably send out one more call for support in our last week, and then I’ll report on how close we came to achieving our goal of $10,000 for each shelter. 

Thanks for reading this far, and thanks always for your past and future support.

Yours truly,

Bale Dalton 

Ireland: Part Three

It's finally time for Part Three of the Irish Adventure! Big ups to CMD for cronicaling his golf and drinking alone shenanigans  In fact, I am pretty sure that I have used the phrase "cologne of booze and bad decisions" in the last few days.

On Day 5, LTD and I followed through on Matthews suggestion to take the Gap of Dunloe and Lakes of Killarney Adventure. A vintage van that reminded me of Mr. Toads Wild Ride picked us up at the hotel and proceeded to drive around town picking up things for the van and a "jacket". We arrive at O'Conners pub to discover that this is where most people begin the tour. The van quickly fills up with tourists who appear to be mostly American and we head out toward Kate's Kottage. Just before the van drops us off, we get a warning message from the driver: Do NOT take horseback or a jaunty through the Gap. It is a fairly easy walk. These services are just trying to scam you. Perhaps in a display of travel ignorance, I begin to get very anxious. All the plans I have made and things I read said DO take a horse cart, horse, or bike through the Gap. That the 7 miles are much to strenuous to walk and make it back to the boat in time for a ride back. I should have known better. LTD and I are kind of known for our epic walks. Sometimes from friends in Colorado would refuse to walk Pax with me because they knew it meant 5+ miles down random paths. I digress. Since LTD and I have already committed our wholes selves into this adventure, we get some water and head for the horses.

"So which one of you is the more experienced rider?" says the burly Irish man with a mischievous grin. "Um. I guess I am." I say. Mom agrees. I get put on a horse (unidentified by name) that seems to be pretty easy to guide. I'm told he/she is the horse that leads the others. Ok! I say. No problem; assuming that means the horse knows the way. I haven't ridden in a while, but its a tourist destination. I should be fine. The horse's owner hands me a stick and says "don't drop this. You're going to need it." Awesome. I think. LTDs horse continues to drop its head and eat along the way. She (Rosie) is the lead horse except that she doesn't like to move. You can imagine how this goes. My horse gallops in front only to slam on the brakes with the appearance of being lost. LTD's horse leads onward until a fresh patch of grass, or another horse, or a stream, or an errant gust of wind distracts her. This is not good. Most of you are thinking "yeah, yeah, yeah. get on with the story. Ain't no big thing." and that is true. Until about halfway, when our "guide" turns to us and says "I have to turn back now, you're on your own. The horse knows the way, but just in case, I will say a prayer for you". Awesome. Not 2 minutes later, my unnamed horse gets spooked and decides to rear back and head in the wrong direction, taking out any pedestrians that are in its way. Yay. I yell at LTD who's only response is to stop her horse. Rosie is cool with that, since it means she can eat again. Thankfully my horse's owner was not far down the path so all was right on the trail in a matter of minutes. Blisters. Sore bums. Ripped jeans. All in a days ride through the Gap of Dunloe. We arrived and order ourselves a well deserved Irish Coffee.


But Wait! There is more! After collapsing on the luscious greens of the Ireland shore, we are told that our "red boat" is almost always late and that we should return to the house for another pint. Another pint sounds amazing, but we were also told that after 2pm, no more boats would be departing and that we would have to traverse the Gap again. WHY is this information not consistent? Happy with effects of the Irish coffee, LTD and I bask in the sun to wait for the boat. When it does arrive (2 hours later) we discover that is it a skiff. A 12 person wooden skiff with three rules: 1. Keep your hands/fingers inside the boat. The trip has seen quite a few lost fingers and it isn't a pretty sight. 2. If someone in your party should fall overboard, DO NOT try to retrieve them. The boat driver will trouble shoot on the fly with the retrieval process. Too many people have been lost in this manner. Oh. Dear. LTD continues to look at me like she is never going to let me plan a single International (or domestic) Adventure again. The boat ride was harrowing but incredibly beautiful. Weather was starting to come in through the mountains resulting in whitecaps on the lake. To such experienced boaters like ourselves, this seems like not a big deal. I turn around to check on LTD and discover that the driver was refueling the vessel while we were still moving. A passenger was dilligently holding the engine/rudder while the boat operator poured fuel from an extra tank into the main fuel tank. He discovers our horror and laughs a bit. He thinks now is a good time to tell us that the reason he'll have to "think on the fly" if someone goes overboard is because he doesn't know how to swim. At all. We hit a rock on our way through a stone bridge. LTD and I hang on for dear life. Other passengers bundle up in their rain gear to avoid the wetness of the waves. All Americans on the boat wonder why we didn't have to sign a liability waiver. One older women gets off the boat at Ross Castle and begs for an "I survived the Lakes of Killarney Adventure". We all echo the sentiment. The Lakes of Killarney really are a must see. The pictures don't do it justice, but obviously I included them anyway.

LTD and I arrived back at the Killarney Park Hotel shortly before RBD2 and CMD. Naturally we ordered a few pints, Irish Coffees, and some snacks. All in a days work. Part Four (and hopefully the conclusion) to come shortly!

O Danny Boy

Fáilte.

As this trip inched closer, I became exponentially more excited about it.  Day of, I was straight up giddy.  Immediately upon landing, I knew it was going to be an awesome trip when a nice Irish lass told a certain member of the group she could tell he had his head up his own ass.  Great start.

Within 18 hours of arriving in Dublin, I announced I could move to Ireland and be just fine.  It is possible I was delirious from not having slept in over a day.  Regardless, I think I meant it.  After dropping off our bags at the hotel, we took off to play Royal Dublin.  I had played links style courses before in Scotland, but this would be my first try in Ireland.  It was....educational.  For a number of the early holes it was raining, then for the remainder of the round, windy.  We were fed Jameson throughout.  Whether or not its effects were detrimental or advantageous is up for debate.  I think probably detrimental.  Shot a tidy little 86.  I did manage to birdie the last, so at least it ended on a positive note.  The combination of sleep deprivation and Jamie, I had at least started to crawl into the bag, and the day wasn't even close to being over.  Back to the hotel to shower and change before dinner.  We walked into the restaurant to find four glasses of fine Irish whiskey resting calmly at each seat.  Oh boy.  I already knew I liked Jameson, but never had experienced anything other than the basic variety.  Tonight, I would be introduced to 12-year, Gold, and 18-year.  They were all delicious.  Even a member of our group, who will remain nameless, proclaimed their enjoyment despite being a loyal Makers Mark drinker.  This, coupled with casual dinner beers and a glass(es) of wine, well, the evening was kicked into a new gear.  Just as a reminder, no sleep as occurred yet.  I could have easily, and probably should have, called it a night.  Instead, we hit the town with our incredible hosts.  First stop, The Residence.  Whiskey.  More whiskey.  Lady GaGa stories.  Old Fashioned.  2 AM.

Quick little sidebar:  we had a lovely waitress who was actually from California but moved to Dublin years ago, etc etc.  It was determined by my table-mates that there might be some interest on her part.  I only sort of disagree.  Plus with a table full of people, it makes it quite difficult to maintain any sort of rapport.  To be clear, this did not stop me from trying.  I do that.

Our waitress, after our meal, told the group(emphasizing the word group here) about a spot the waitstaff frequents after work. I file that information away.

We leave The Residence in search of this bar we had been told about.  Our numbers are down by about 80%.  We can't find what we were looking for, but we did manage to find another place of interest.  Only one drink here.  We are fading.  It's late.  We haven't slept.  We need sleep.  We must go back to the hotel.  We have a nightcap.  And fish and chips.  Perfect ending to an incredible day.

I wake up (am woken up) the next (same) morning, to a voice pointing out that my nightcap was on the bedside table.  I find this humorous.  I'm not sure the voice did.

Answering the bell wasn't the easiest, but we had to make moves and get to the stadium for the Navy/Notre Dame game.  I have no idea what to expect, but based on our experience to this point, I should've figured it would be special.  Box seats. 3 course lunch.  Free booze. Oh, and I shouldn't forget the flask of Jameson presented to each person upon getting off the bus.  Ooph.  It begins again.  At noon.  You're right, I should just not.  But, I'm in Ireland.  So I do.

The game itself was, well, it certainly could've been better.  But, the experience was incredible.  And isn't that what it's all about?  I decided yes.  I did enjoy having to explain rules and so forth to the Irish contingent of the group.  After the game we walked to a nearby pub, because why would you stop drinking between events?  I did switch to Smithwicks for a few pints, so as to not get too full before I had to eat again.  Dinner is just a few blocks away.  Whiskey.  Irish beef burger.  Guinness.

Sláinte.

The adults/responsible people go to bed.  I go out.  Temple Bar.  It's crowded.  A little popped and tired, we go back to our hotel.  Our hotel bar.  "The Octagon."  Our bartender, Keean, "Keegan?" "Kee-an" "Keean, got it" tells us he can get us into the basement nightclub for free.  Sure.

Keean leaves his post to take us down.  It is a different world.  Laser lights.  Fog machines.  18-year olds.  This is officially weird.  Sure, I'll have a drink.  Someone asks if a girl is wearing a shirt, or if it's just a bra.  That goes about as well as you'd think.  Two of our three, so the two that are not me, are wearing hats.  Backwards.  We are Americans.  A hat is then slapped off a head.  We look for the dude that did the slapping.  We (thankfully, in hindsight) don't find him.  We should call it a night.  We start the walk back.

[female voice]
"Hey, are you an American?"
"Yes.  Is it that obvious?"
"Yes."
         -more conversation-
"Well, me and my friends are going in here for a drink."
"Oh.  Should we come in?"
"Sure"

Fade out.

8:30 comes early (again).  I no doubt am wearing a cologne of booze and bad decisions.  I act as chipper as I can.  We have a three hour drive to golf.  I take advantage of a little honey hole in the back of the bus to take a nap.  I am good at this.

Refreshed, we arrive at Lahinch.  Interestingly enough, Lahinch is the surf capital of Ireland.  I wasn't aware the Irish surfed.  The water had to of been 50 degrees.  The course is incredibly hard.  Or maybe I just played poorly.  Probably both.  However, the course is so awesome that I never could quite get full on mad about anything.  And my goal of breaking 90 each day was still intact.  So that was nice.  The group goes out to dinner in the town of Lahinch.  It was actually quite good.  I had been expecting the food to be questionable while in Ireland, but to this point, everything has been delicious.  We all went for a few pints at a local pub.  It was quite entertaining.  I usually try and blend in to my surroundings.  This group had no qualms being tourists.  Pictures were taken.  Some more embarrassing upon review than others.  I behave.  I am also the last to finish my drink.  This has been a theme for most of my life.  I eat slow.  I drink slow(sometimes).  A tame evening.  We walk to the hotel.  9 hours of sleep is medicinal.

We are now headed to Ballybunion for golf, then to Killarney to stay.  The drive was a long one, and it included a ferry ride.  It has become abundantly clear why Ireland is called the Emerald Isle.  The rolling fields are beautiful, houses dotting the farmlands.  The ferry ride was great in and of itself.  Hopefully an attached picture will do some justice, but the marriage of the blue sky, gray water, and green fields was mesmerizing.  Look at these Irish clouds.

Just off the first fairway of Ballybunion there is a graveyard.  I didn't realize at the time this would be an indication of how I would play this day.  Ugh.  I mean, once you start to get uncomfortable with your game, you may as well just enjoy the scenery because playing well is out of the question.  The upside is, there is plenty of scenery to enjoy.  Many of the holes were guarded by beachside cliffs, the Atlantic just on the other side.  After golf, we continued on to Killarney. Our lodging for the next couple days would be the Killarney Park Hotel.  Incredible.  Huge rooms.  A back garden area.  Walking distance to pubs.  This dinner was particularly entertaining.  I'm not entirely sure why.  Maybe we were all settled into being in this awesome country.  Every person there welcomes you wherever you go.  Wine is poured, stories are told.  Some not great for the mixed company. Still hilarious.  Maybe even more so considering.  I ordered the pork belly, and everyone looked at me like I was insane.  Coming from a kid who would only eat PB&J growing up, my parents must be just baffled at my current eating habits, always looking to try something new.  I wouldn't eat a hamburger till high school, and even then it had to be homemade, on a grill, at a BBQ in someone's backyard I knew.  Finished things off with an Irish coffee.  I ordered, others followed.  They were pleased.

Next up, Waterville.  It sort of looks like it might finally rain on us today.  Our bus driver/friend Matthew assures us it's not going to.  It's raining on the way there.  We are not convinced.  It is still spitting a little upon arrival, but sure enough, as we get set to tee it, the rain stops, and we have ourselves yet another beautiful day.  Today, I feel good about my game and play well for the first few holes, then lose it for the middle part, and close the round with a decent number.  A playing partner remarks, "great round, what were you a couple over?" I respond, "nine, but thank you." 81.  At this point, I am repeating myself, I'm sure.  But I continued to find myself just staring out at the surroundings.  I keep trying to pick out parts that look like places in the States and just piece it together, but really nothing captures the uniqueness of it all.  I think Waterville was my favorite.  I also played the best here, so I'm sure that was a factor, but I took close to as many pictures as I did strokes, so that is saying something too.  We orded sandwiches for the ride to dinner, which sounds weird, but we were hungry.  The female cook came out and called one of the group a wimp, which was hilarious.  She didn't want us to take the food to go.  "To go" isn't really done much here.  We are sorry, we must go.

We head to this cool, family owned, hotel/restaurant not too far from where we are staying.  Our reservation isn't for a few minutes, so we step into the bar for a quick drink.  This place was cool.  It has bag tags representing courses from all over the world.  A search begins for our home courses.  We find one.  It's pretty cool.  There is also a wall of logo golf balls.  I find one with the Gator logo.  I'm pretty pleased about that.  Another boozy dinner follows.  I find I am on a weird goat cheese kick, yet I keep ordering it and loving it.  Some people are less than thrilled with their selection here, the first time I think this has happened.  There was another large group in the room with us.  A competition as to who could be the loudest ensued.  We lasted longer, so clearly, we won.

I've seen an overhead picture of what we were about to face at Old Head, which is situated on a peninsula.   I'm hoping the wind will lay down.  For the most part it does.  I felt rushed by the starter, so I don't really enjoy the first few holes.  A trait I share with my father.  There are deadly (no joke) cliffs all around.  Like, just accept that ball is lost if it's close to the edge so you don't take a misstep and plummet to a rocky, then watery, demise.  This of course made for some pretty awesome vistas.  I play okay, until a collapse at the end which is extremely maddening.  I take some cool pictures, so that's good I guess.  A few of us get a pint after the round and enjoy the views and the weather.  Others are waiting for us on the bus.  We are not aware.  Whoops.  Drinks and snacks on the bus.

Dinner tonight is boys only.  I'm not sure I've mentioned that I get sort of panic-y at large dinners because I don't think people deal with folks in the service industry as well as I do.  (I don't think many people handle many things as well as I do.)  People don't listen, or pay attention, or don't realize what they ordered.  I know I had a Jameson coming.  I politely remind our waitress, when she asks if I'm doing ok, hoping she picks up on the "I'm sorry you have to deal with us tonight, we are tourists, and we've been drinking" smile.  I've been told a number of times to make sure I check out the singing pubs of Killarney before we leave.  This is our last night in Killarney.  My last shot to see what it's about.  I'm told to go to The Grand.  No one else is game.  I head out, determined, on my own.  I'll just have a pint, see what it's about, sing a few tunes and be on my way.  Hahaha. This place is awesome.  I'm having such a good time.  I make friends.  Irish friends.  American friends.  Oh you're from San Diego? Here for a wedding? Congrats! Yeah, I'll have another.  The band plays Wagon Wheel.  I scream/sing it with my American friends.  I take a picture. "Are you an American?" What is this, am I wearing a sign? Sure, shot of Jameson it is.  Oh you're from the North?  What's the deal with Northern Ireland?  What's that relationship with the English? Contentious?

Ohh boy.  It's 3:30.  This is not what I intended.

I am woken up.  I don't realize this.  I am woken up again.  Everyone is on the bus.  My dad is packing for me.  For some reason I don't like this.  "Everyone is waiting for you."  I feel bad.  About people waiting for me.  And physically.  I must rally.  I can't ruin this for anyone.  I get on the bus.  Judging looks.  I play it off.  Whatever guys, I'm chipper, I'm ready to go.  I am not ready to go.  Light jokes.  Yeah, I had an awesome time, get off me.

Tralee.  I go to the range.  Hit the ball in the middle.  Wash my face.  Buy three waters and chug them all.  And some gum.  The caddy is a beast of a man.  Asks where I went out last night.  The wind is howling.  I could shoot 100 easy.  I make contact with the first shot.  Success.  I am slowly coming around.  This course is awesome.  Without a doubt, this is the worst I've played.  There are a number of contributing factors.  But, I am thoroughly enjoying the day.  I am hemorrhaging golf balls.  I finish with the last one I have.  Perfect.  What a golf trip.  I can't believe we've played the courses we have.  Incredible.

I'm sure I'd be reminded of it if I left this part out:  bus ride home for me was less than good.  I sit down and the setting sun is beating on me through the window.  The bus is bouncing all over the road.  I don't get car sick.  I need shade, and a smoother ride.  I take a bottle of water, snacks, and an empty bag (just in case) to the front of the bus.  Thankfully, I sleep.

For our final meal, we go to the Original Durty Nellys.  It's famous and all, but I think this was our least favorite experience.  We were way in the back, service was a little lacking, the food didn't measure up to the other places, and a member (a grown man) of the group felt like fighting a dude upon us leaving. The jerk wouldn't move an inch as we all tried to squeeze through the door jam he was occupying.

We arrive at the Shannon airport, ready to head home.  Both my parents forget they have full flasks.  This is hilarious.  My mom, always a cautious rule-follower, is no doubt mortified.  I get my bag searched in customs.  That's it.  We are airborne.  We cross the Atlantic home.  We will remember this trip.  We will search for an experience to match it.



Slán go fóill.

                                             

Trading Sunsets for Sunrises

For the loyal readers of Coastal BS that might not yet know, I have moved from beautiful San Diego, CA to historic Cambridge, MA to attend graduate school at Harvard Kennedy School of Government. The family spent a great week in San Diego for our collective "sendoff" to that great city, which LDL has faithfully reported on. It was great to be together and see P and L enjoy some new territory.

Those who know me well know I do not enjoy packing or being in between places. I've traveled a lot so you'd thing I get over that, but alas, I have not. A 3500 mile trip in a car across the country arriving just a few days before orientation did not make me happy. But CMD graciously "volunteered" to ride shotgun with me across the American West (and mid-west, and great lakes, and northeast) which he comically and form-fittingly blogged about earlier. We made the best of it as you have read.

I've been here for about a month, experienced orientation and two full weeks of classes. I will send up another report about school shortly, but for now suffice to say everything is going very well, I am learning my new city, and I have met some people very enjoyable to be around.

Oh, and I'm still not unpacked.

Ireland: Part Two

On to part two of our Irish Adventure! I am not exaggerating ;with the use of the word "adventure". Every day was some new kind of excitement, be it a vista, excursion, an awesome meal, or just a run-in with an exceptionally helpful Irish man. 

Days two and three were most days of travel, but when you're in Ireland even that can be spectacular. A major player in this story that is NOT included in the blog author list is our Irish driver Matthew. He proved to be an excellent source of information (though he admitted later that his tips helped his family business). So Day Two we traveled from Dublin to Lahinch via motorcoach. CMD might be a little annoyed at my posting of this particular picture, but given the reference to rock stars in the previous post, it deserves a mention. Not many people can take a nap in the back of a moving vehicle as well as he can. CMD is our resident rock star. This stretch of travel was relatively boring. Incredible vistas from the vehicle, but jet lag was starting to wear on us and the guys were running late for a tee time. 

Once we arrive in Lahinch and dropped off our bags, Matthew took us (LTD and me) to a great seaside inn called Vaughn Anchor Inn. We had incredibly fresh seafood chowder, a crab martini, and a giant BLT. Way too much food. Still, we needed to be full in case our adventure led us well into the evening. Next stop: The Cliffs of Moher!

I know I am going to keep saying this throughout the Ireland series that pictures will not do this country justice. This is especially true of the Cliffs of Moher. Located in the Burren region of County Clare, the cliffs tower 214km over the Atlantic Ocean and span 8 kilometers - anchored by O'Brian's tower. During our visit, we made our way through the entire experience, beginning with a lesson in the geology of rock formations and how changing weather patters (climate change) is affecting the region. Pretty interesting stuff. While in the visitor centre (built into the hilly landscape) LTD and I watched a video from the viewpoint of the cliff nesting birds -- apparently one of the largest colonies of its type in Ireland. Matthew also made sure we knew that people sometimes took their life at the cliffs. LTD and I laughed (in a non-humorous way) at the complete lack of safety precautions. I think since she is a mom she was a bit more worried about a disastrous misstep than I. 

I probably should have been more careful. At one point, we walked on a path that was no more than 3 feet wide, balancing a barbed wire fence (and cows) on one side and the cliffs on the other. Plus the scores of other people walking in the other direction. My mom is the best mom. We finished the day off with an excellent meal at the Atlantic Bar and (naturally) a post-dinner pint at The Nineteenth. CMD and I are starting to understand the whole 8, 9, or 10 pint a night thing.

Day Three was a longer travel day that involved the motor-coach being right-on-time for a ferry across the River Shannon (aptly named the Shannon Breeze). We bought some pretty sweet coasters with the Dalton coat-of-arms but hustled back onto the motor-coach pretty quickly. Stories of a member of our party being left at the dock did not sit well with us. After dropping the golfers off to play Ballybunion, LTD and I continued into Killarney where we were treated to one of the best views I have ever seen in my life. From the hilltop we could see middle, upper, and lower lakes, and into the Killarney National Park. 

From here we checked into the Killarney Park Hotel; this might be the greatest hotel I have ever stayed in my entire life. Most definitely in recent memory - very deserving of its "leading hotels of the world" listing. And we needed it desperately. The beds were so comfortable and inviting. The housekeeping staff actually put a fresh bottle of water next to the bed every night. I lost my sunglasses and the front desk staff not only found them, but arranged to put them in my room! Killarney was beginning to look a lot like heaven. Thank goodness, because it was also home to our most adventurous adventures. Until next time. . .  

Ireland: Part One

Garth Brooks once told me that "Mother Earth is breathing with every wave that finds the shore" and after having spent 8 days touring the emerald isle, I believe him. Pictures cannot do this country justice. It is one of the most beautiful and hospitable places I have ever visited. While the main purpose of our visit was to watch the United States Naval Academy Midshipmen battle the Notre Dame Fighting Irish (GO Wargoats), our clan managed to take advantage of most of what Ireland had to offer. Our route took us from Dublin over to the Southwest portion of the island. Missing Galway, Cork, Kilkenny etc just gives us reason to go back. I think it is fair to say that we missed family members BML, LDL, P, l, and RBDIII too much to do it without them.

Day One - Arrival and Sightseeing
We arrived in Dublin at 8:30am local time after having slept (sort of) on the flight over. The flight was non descript - too little leg-room, over salted airplane dinner, hard to regulate temperatures - just about normal. But when you're traveling to Ireland for the first time ever there is very little to complain about. We took taxis over to The Clarence House in the Temple Bar area of Dublin. Two interesting facts that came from the driver were (1) the hotel is owned by U2 members Bono and The Edge, and (2) he (driver) can only drink 8, 9, or 10 pints of Guinness a night before it gets too filling and he has to switch to something else. In short, we were surrounded by rock stars. CMD and RBDII left immediately to go hit the links. LTD and I jumped on the City Sightseeing Tour Bus and made our way across Dublin.

First Stop: Christ Church Cathedral

LTD and I definitely used the "hop-on, hop-off" function of the bus ride - sometimes embarrassingly so since the Cathedral was just a few blocks from where we picked up the bus. We were a bit disappointed in the lack of narration but it could have been that we just didn't hear. Every seat was taken. Later we learned that over 30,000 Americans had arrived in Dublin over the last few days to watch the football game. Anyway, I've included pictures of the Cathedral because I am always amazed at the complexities of building these structures without any of the modern tools engineers use today. I know. Nerd Alert. Just go read Pillars of the Earth and you'll be impressed too.


Stop Two: Guinness Storehouse

Poetry in a pint of Guinness

Since we felt ridiculous for jumping on the tour bus to go about 3 blocks, we decided to walk to the Guinness Storehouse (get some exercise in search of beer). It was a little further than anticipated and the crosswalks/sidewalks were interesting to navigate. Still, LTD and I learned our way fast enough and made it to Guinness just before the big crowd. It was still incredibly crowded but at least we didn't have to wait in line around the building.

LTD uses all 5 senses to taste

This was a super interesting adventure -- the storehouse is shaped like a giant pint of Guinness! With 5 floors offering a very different look at the Guinness brand (advertising history, how to brew, how to pour, how to taste, a cafeteria, and a rooftop bar) we could have spent all day here.

Stop Three: Just Keep Riding
Okay, we never exited the bus after getting on at Guinness in a rain shower. We were exhausted and lines were circling buildings (remember the 30,000 Americans? There were also 1 million internationals hanging around Dublin for the Tall Ships and Irish Football Championship events). So we missed seeing the inside of Trinity College and the Book of Kells. We figure it gives us a reason to at least fly into Dublin for a night on a return trip. Still, even on the bus, we heard great commentary on Phoenix Park, Grafton Street, St. Stephens Green, and the Kilmainham Gaol (jail).

LTD with her two Charles'

That night we met back up with the men of our group for dinner at Unicorn. Unbelievable. we arrived to see Liam & Simon, incredibly interesting and smart representatives for Jameson, waiting, having already ensured that each place setting had 4 glasses of the Irish Whiskey. A tasting! We were so impressed with the whole thing. Although we were completely exhausted, some of us (the "kids") took our hosts up on their offer to show us Dublin nightlife. This included an upscale bar called the Residence and a trendy nightclub called 37. 37 was strange. We were there for a nanosecond. Breakfast of Fish and Chips at the hotel bar at 3:30am. CMD and I are off to a raging start.

Day Two: Navy vs. Notre Dame Football Game

March On

Just an FYI to readers in case you are like me and thought the old "hair of the dog" trick was ridiculous and that they best way to get over a wild night out was to practically drown yourself in water. It works. At least, a Guinness works. This stout might be magic. Our dear friends had mentioned to us that their contacts at Jameson had a hand in getting tickets. We assumed we'd be just like every other event attendee. Nope. John handed us each a flask that was already full of Whiskey and a package that included our game ticket and access to the VIP Quarterback Suite. Whaaaaat? It was incredible - seats on the 50 yard line. Access to lunch, snacks, drinks - pretty much whatever we wanted. Navy always represents themselves incredibly well and the games march on did not disappoint. Notre Dame fans were respectful for about 5 seconds. That's 5 seconds longer than I expected. The score was disappointing, but the experience was a once in a lifetime. We especially enjoyed teaching our new Irish friends the rules of the game. I think they were a little bored -- too many pauses in action. In Irish football, people never stop moving. There is always action, even away from the ball.

This wraps up days one and two. Next post will move on to travel day to Lahinch & the Cliffs of Moher! Stay Tuned. . .