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In the net of the spider Mar 26, 2006

Posted by herraheri in Dublin 06.
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Heyho pals,

Time for part three of Fear and Loathing in Dublin.

Tuesday, March 21st

I forgot what happened in the morning; when I regained consciousness, I noticed we were wearing gumboots, yellow raincoats, miner helmets and Wanderers F.C Rugby Club-Scarfs. Whatever. We were hungry, so we ate. That happened at Café en Seine, an unbelievable place. Dimmed lights, enormous plants, huge mirrors, jazz and French Chansons – it was the true 1920-businessman-experience.

Café en Seine

En plus, you could eat traditional Irish food. It was probably the most bizarre experience we made in D to the n. Ok, it sounds a little bit boring, so I will add some spice:

Next to our table, an old, poorly shaved man with an old-fashioned hat and a worn out suit was sitting around, in front of him a gorgonzola sandwich and a glass of red wine. He was wearing sunglasses; additionally, he made use of a spyglass constantly. He covered the whole room with his spyglass-views. From time to time, he made some notes. I started to feel a little uncomfortable when he stared at us for about 10 minutes. He asked for the waitress and told her that somebody was smoking inside the cafe. Then he fetched a revolver out of his suit, whispered "April is the cruellest month.", put the gun into his mouth and fired.

James Joyce

When we had finished eating, we decided that it was time for a good pint of Guinness, so we headed for the Guinness Storehouse. It was awesome. They tried to make you drink all the time ("Oh, hello, fancy a sample of Guinness?"). Unfortunately, we hadn't much time. In the Gravity Bar, the upmost floor of the brewery, we enjoyed our free pint of Guinness and a great view over Dublin.

Gravity Bar Gravity Bar viewsick

By then, it was already time to go to the airport. In the meantime, here are some more great pics from Ireland's pulsing capital:

the hostelsight-seeing 2sight-seeing

All could have been so mellow. But waiting for the airplane, we met some nice Americans in the twenties. They were so cool. One of them was wearing a shirt showing a tricycle: "My other ride is your mom". Great entertainment. If I decided to go to another country, I would surely choose this very t-shirt to gain new friends. His mate, whose idiocy and limited horizon sprang out of his face, was wearing a beret, which made him look even dumber. As if they didn't bother me enough with their look, they started to talk. It was like…like ya know what I mean, like: you wanna like…do something, pal? – man, fuck it, our, like, our plane is like flying soon. – Man, shut the fuck up! – You kidding me?

Totally awesome! I had so much fun, these guys had such a great personality! Thank you X for pimping my ride! Now get the hell outta here!

Enough of these unholy prejudices and this disgusting social criticism. I challenged them to a duel and managed it my way – with swords not words. Hu-ha.

So. I'd like to write something concluding, but I don't no what. Dublin was fucking amazing.

Sun is shining.


What the hill?! Mar 25, 2006

Posted by herraheri in Dublin 06.
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Good evening, my appreciated friends, and good evening also to you, my lovliest enemy, DR. MORIARTY! Always a pleasure.

My pipe is enlightened and the cognac has just the right temperature, so it's the best possible time to sit down in my brazenly comfortable leather armchair right next to the fireplace where a cozy little fire glimmers and tell you some devilarious and untold stories about HELL… – well, no, that's next week…about DUBLIN.

Monday, March 20th

You can't imagine the unclouded delight I felt when I woke up at around half eight (that's the real Irish slang, check it out: half eight, homie. Means: 8:30). In my heart, the birds sang and I felt that spring stepped closer and closer. It was inspiring.
Without having to think, my thoughts were a wild river, blasting its way through the unviolated Irish landscapes. I had to write a little poem instantly to express my emotions:

My brain is dead,
my stomach's mad,
I feel bad;
bad –

I was inspired, indeed.
(It was raining.)

Fresh like a deer I jumped into my clothes and had breakfast. It ruled.
We were both full of pleasant anticipation to do some challenging hiking in Bray, that's about 30 km south of Dublin. In fact, I had enough when we had walked to the station from which the train went to Bray. First appetite for a pint of Guinness flourished.

I believe we were not the first people who asked the friendly guys at the station where the ominous "cliff walk" started. They changed glances and rolled their eyes, "Oh man, these stupid idiots will never learn it.", then showed us the way.
We spent some time at the rough sea (I found a golf ball – exciting), then started the walk. Since we are two fisted warriors, we weren't satisfied with simply doing the walk, no, we decided to climb Bray Head, a chainsaw of a mountain, the emblem of Ireland: approximately 9000 m over sea level, acid springs and rivers all over the sides, caves with bloodthirsty bears in it and deadly rifts hidden for human eyes. And all that bare-footed! (We had eaten our shoes for second breakfast.)

The path was a thrill: dead bodies, smashed human bones, oxygen bottles, a lot of beer cans and bottles, cigarettes and other essential equipment. A cold, fresh Guinness at Bray Station would have been less challenging. Damnit!

But, you see, the moments of torture climbing this hell of a hill were highly awarded, i can tell thee. An amazing panorama extended to horizon.

Panorama 2 Panorama 1
The ocean was really sea-like, and the landscape was truely Irish. There were some great cliffs to stand on and feel like the king of the world. This lucky circumstance allowed us to execute the ingenious plan of doing a dramatic video shoot upon the mountain. The result was eye-burning. Herra héri was on the set, too. Take a licensed look at pics from the shoot:
Video shoot 1Video Shoot 2
When we felt that we had spent enough time screaming at the peak of this mountain, we headed back to the cliff path. Friendly tortoises and the well-known Guinness toucan accompanied us. We had a great conversation.

The rest of the walk was really soul-uplifting. It seemed like the landscape had just been jumping out of a tourist brochure about the impressive nature of Ireland. The hangover had been forgotten for a while.
Cliff walk
Hangover came back shortly when we reached Greystones, a rather ugly all-American village. We were badly in need for the one-hour-ride back to Dublin. Life continued not until we where back in O'Neill's, the pub of our confidence, where we had a pint of Bulmer's Cider and, oh yeah, believe it or not, something to eat (Irish stew). What followed was a really laid-back evening including (in order of appearance) another pint of Bulmer's, football, a pint of Kilkenny, football (second half), some dumbass Americans, a pint of Guinness, two Irish guitarists (m/w), another pint of Bulmer's, a completing pint of Guinness and sleep.
Guinness TimeChilling
Next time: Looking out for shoes, Guinness-loving lobsters and more American fun.

Good night and may the herra be with you.

Sweet as a nut Mar 23, 2006

Posted by herraheri in Dublin 06.
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Faílte compañeros!

The time has come to do a little report about the short visit to Dublin of mine and my brother (oh yes, herra héri was with us, too). Since these 3 days were so full of experiences, I'm going to split them up into 3 posts (uäih!). Exciting, what? It's also kind of a test for the huge 6-week-Iceland-journey-coverage.

I'm not gonna bother you with interesting stuff but merely with ineffectual details. That's what you want, isn't it ??!! Well, there you go.

Sunday, March 19th

The flight from Stuttgart was great. Great entertainment. A young super-christian couple prayed in the course of take-off. Then, safely flying around (with God's help), they took a short inspiration read out of their premium-edition bible (with leather case), presumably written by Jesus himself. Nice people, I liked them at once. I believe they are young, ambitious Americans who have just finished their 3-year bible-school. Now they are on their Europa-missionary tour, with unbroken enthusiasm. Great.

But there were other highlights on the flight. The monitors were not showing solely boring maps and facts, no, they loosened the atmosphere with some undemonstrative ads: "HÖHNER 6:0 – DAS NEUE ALBUM! HIER IM FLUGZEUG ZU KAUFEN!" It was spiced up with a great picture of this amazing band. As you can imagine, I didn't hesitate to buy 6 records. It was well worth the investment.

In the bus from airport to O'Connell Street, there were some extremely kind Germans. One of them had lived in Dublin for half a year and he left no doubt that he was the king of Dublin. He simply knew everything about Dublin and Ireland. Small example: "Wisst ihr, auf dieser Autobahn hat es eigentlich immer Stau. Deshalb nennen wir Iren sie auch den größten Parkplatz der Welt. Das is doch mal n Ding, wa? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! – Übrigens, falls ihr es noch nicht mitbekommen habt, ich weiß alles über Dublin." I made the purpose to beat the seven shades of shit out of him, but he wasn't in the mood for it. it's a shame, we could have had so much fun.

Know what: foosball tables in Ireland don't use the generally accepted 2-5-3 system, but, attention please, a 3-5-2 system…fuck me I'm Irish.

Our hostel was nice, with a great view over town:
panorama view
I'm going to leave out the boring sight-seeing-hours between hostel check-in and serious drinking, aight?
EATpanorama view 2

So: Right after checking in in the hostel, we met Betti, who is Au-Pair 30 km South of Dublin since 2 weeks. After a short salutation ceremony we started drinking in the next best Pub, O'Neill's. It's quite a huge Pub, but very comfortable. It was 5 pm when we ordered our first pint (0,568l) of Guinness (€4,10). Another pint later we changed the place of drinking, feeling the need to eat something (I didn't eat the whole day, besides one pretzel and a Whopper Cheese).

We failed, so we had to continue drinking. At 9, I was plastered.

plastered view
At around 1 am, after 7 pints of Guinness and one Power's Whiskey, I felt the desire to puke. But nah, I'm too cool for stuff like that. Betti and some of her Au-Pair-friends including a Maltese speech therapist (?) had gone by then, and we hooked up with an Irishman, who dragged us to Viperroom. It's the place to be. We stayed 5 mintues and went home, drunk as hill. What followed was not sleeping but coma.

The first evening was a ball, so stay tuned for new extreme sport "hangover-hill-climbing" and more fine drinking experiences.


Dublin 103.jpg