Our Friday night was supposed to be really good. We had plans to meet up with a few students in the city centre, for dinner and drinks. We all convened at the mammoth spire jutting up from one of the main streets in town, and Brian and I made arrangements with the group that we'd catch up with them at one of the small Chinese restaurants down the street after we returned a few items to the grocery store, which we weren't going to have time to eat before leaving Dublin (we're cheap, remember?). A nice plan, but after ducking into every freakin' Chinese restaurant looking for our group (unnerving for other diners, we're sure), we couldn't find them.
We ended up walking around looking for a pub to have a pity-pint in, but somehow we ended up at home, in bed, drinking Guinness from tiny breakfast cups and eating Hunky Dorys. So, in addition to being cheap, we're also quite cool. In any case, it wasn't the end of the world, and Brian was up at a reasonable hour the next morning to prepare for the Clinton Institute's symposium (CI pictured below) where all of the summer school folks get a chance to share their papers with the rest.
Now, UCD is a very windy campus. It's not the kind of place you want to go out walking in a flowy skirt if you prefer to keep your lady parts to yourself. It's also not the ideal place to stretch out and read a book by the fountain if you prefer to decide when to turn the pages as opposed to having them turned for you. If you try to do both in a single afternoon, you find yourself in the situation I was in yesterday. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I stuck it out for an hour and a half before finally giving in and coming back to the room.
The evening was great, though. The summer school people kindly welcomed me at their BBQ after the symposium, so I got a chance to clear up any misconceptions about Brian having a hermit wife. They fed us a delicious meal of hot dogs (way more sausage-like than the crap we get in Canada), chicken, the tastiest sweet corn off of the grill, salads, and herbed new potatoes, followed by a plateful of fresh strawberries, real whipped cream and meringue nests. The booze was flowing, as were the conversations, and despite the chill in the air as night settled in, everyone was having a good time. Thanks to the gift of storytelling these Irish students have, we had a few hearty (and hurty) belly-laughs--the most reliable marker of a good night. The party moved inside the Clinton Institute when it got too cold and damp in the garden, and we stayed until close to midnight before joining the slow trickle of people back to the residences.
It's Sunday morning now, and we're preparing for a day-trip to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced "dun leary") and a few of the conjoining towns, instead of the jaunt up to Howth as we'd planned. The locals thought we'd have a better time in the other towns, so we're taking their advice. We'll let you know how it pans out later tonight!
We ended up walking around looking for a pub to have a pity-pint in, but somehow we ended up at home, in bed, drinking Guinness from tiny breakfast cups and eating Hunky Dorys. So, in addition to being cheap, we're also quite cool. In any case, it wasn't the end of the world, and Brian was up at a reasonable hour the next morning to prepare for the Clinton Institute's symposium (CI pictured below) where all of the summer school folks get a chance to share their papers with the rest.
Now, UCD is a very windy campus. It's not the kind of place you want to go out walking in a flowy skirt if you prefer to keep your lady parts to yourself. It's also not the ideal place to stretch out and read a book by the fountain if you prefer to decide when to turn the pages as opposed to having them turned for you. If you try to do both in a single afternoon, you find yourself in the situation I was in yesterday. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I stuck it out for an hour and a half before finally giving in and coming back to the room.
The evening was great, though. The summer school people kindly welcomed me at their BBQ after the symposium, so I got a chance to clear up any misconceptions about Brian having a hermit wife. They fed us a delicious meal of hot dogs (way more sausage-like than the crap we get in Canada), chicken, the tastiest sweet corn off of the grill, salads, and herbed new potatoes, followed by a plateful of fresh strawberries, real whipped cream and meringue nests. The booze was flowing, as were the conversations, and despite the chill in the air as night settled in, everyone was having a good time. Thanks to the gift of storytelling these Irish students have, we had a few hearty (and hurty) belly-laughs--the most reliable marker of a good night. The party moved inside the Clinton Institute when it got too cold and damp in the garden, and we stayed until close to midnight before joining the slow trickle of people back to the residences.It's Sunday morning now, and we're preparing for a day-trip to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced "dun leary") and a few of the conjoining towns, instead of the jaunt up to Howth as we'd planned. The locals thought we'd have a better time in the other towns, so we're taking their advice. We'll let you know how it pans out later tonight!
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