Thursday, 16 August 2007

Why Does It Always Rain On My Parade?

14 and 15 August - Was sure i'd set my alarm for an early wakeup call but obviously it didn't work. Thought those hostel bastards had done it again - couldn't find my contacts upon waking but realised I had very short time to get some of the free 'continental' breakfast so legged it downstairs - everything seemed to be in order there was ample bread, rorsbry and strawsbry but ... No butter. They get you every time. It turns out that there was some type of congealed oil spread which was better than nothing and for the first time I actually got a decent sized serving. But, I feel i'm in some kind of Orwellian nightmare - four slices of toast doesn't fill my belly and eight slices makes me feel bloated and reactive to the gluten. What am I going to do? Had planned to bike out to the Aran Islands ferry in the morning but sleep in, semi-torrential forecast and actual local downpour meant that it was probably not to be. As rain never stopped I thought twould be prudent to leave Chevette at the hostel (where, while she still wouldn't be dry at least the act of walking meant that my jeans could potentially survive the day) - Galway is not a sight seeing town per se but still seems to be inundated with tourists - not sure exactly why they're all here, perhaps its the night life? As I trudged through the districts the one thing that really seems to stand out is the plethora of buskers - every corner and sidestreet seems to have one and they were going until well past one in the morning last night - even two of the people sharing the dorm with me seemed to be financing or at least subsidising their travellingwith that particlar venture. Also noticed far too many people with the lowest of travelling jobs - the signboard holder. One of the most demeaning positions there is - having a signboard draped over your shoulders that may as well say 'Eat At Joes' for all anyone would really care. I, for one, would actively seek to avoid any place of business that would seek to humiliate any employee by making them wear a sign. But maybe that's just me.
Found myself at a standup comedy night in the evening - all things considering it was pretty good (nobody sneaking peaks at palm cards which is a good sign that they're trying to push themselves out of the amateur leagues) - a lot of local humour (for example, I was not aware that Cork men and Kerry men are worse enemies than Palestinians or Israelis) which I realised probably would have been funny if i'd substituted Palestinians and Israelis for the Cork and Kerry men - my main complaint would have been for the crowd - any comedian (or any performer for that matter) has got to know how to deal with a tough crowd but the crowd also has a responsibility to be somewhat respectful - if you're going to heckle and interrupt at least have something to say. There's nothing worse than a wag in the audience who is less funny than he thinks the comedian is (did I say that right?).
Well, the next day involved another bus sojourn across the country back into the capital - upon arrival I managed to find the port (i hope it was the right one) and started the process of getting myself out of there - caught up with more couriers afterwards (you're still here? Apparently me and stef are the last of the travellers) before baselining for a while and making a final rendesvous with an old friend. Got a bit of culture at an exhibition at the Gallery of Photography courtesy of Jeannie's connections which was followed by a drink or two and some Jazz that was so free that it was inaudible (i think they got a better offer so weren't playing at our poob). I'm going to miss this place.

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