the end is down

People always ask me why I've come from sunny Australia to cold, grey London. I always tell people I wanted new challenges and to have Europe on my front door step. When I arrived I compiled a list of places which I wanted to see - Stockholm, Dublin, the French Riviera, Cinque Terre, Copenhagen, Croatia, etc etc.

The last couple of trips I've done I've had the pleasure of being able to travel with a companion. So it was great to be able to head out to explore the world again on my own - the lone traveller and his own two feet. Being the control freak I am and having little time to prepare for my trip, I decided to take the easy option and visit an English speaking country on my list. There were plenty of cheap flights to Dublin, and scored a 1 pence flight from Dublin to London! Unfortunately taxes and charges and everything else added to the cost, but still, better than paying 30 pounds for a flight.

As usual I was way too early for my flight from Heathrow, only to find my Aer Lingus flight (yes, I deliberately chose to fly the Irish flag bearer) sitting on the tarmac for an hour while the congestion cleared. I was non-plussed really - I just sat there and contemplated life and listened to the sweet sounds of Irish accents waft around me.

On accents. I just love the Irish accent. Their rolling "r" sound and the melodic sing-song is enough to make you swoon for hours. Though, I can confirm that "northern Ireland is more sing-song than southern Ireland". On the flight, two Irish lads sitting next to me were having a quiet conversation of mostly swear words. Amusingly, the "f this and f that and she's a f-ing b*" discussion sounded so friendly and upbeat with their Irish accents you could be forgiven for thinking that they were talking about the posies of flowers they were going to give to their mums for Christmas.

When discussing this with my flatmate, I have since been advised that my accent has gone slightly English. Aghast at this thought (but secretly pleased at my incredible assimilation), I asked her for proof. Apparently when I had been on the phone to the plumber (my tap broke), all my questions ended with a downwards inflection. I pondered over this on yet another delayed train journey. When Aussies ask a question, the inflection goes up. Asking "would you like a cup of tea?" in English English ends in a downwards inflection. And apparently my inflections are now heading south. Admittedly, I do mix between the two - when introducing myself as an Aussie I do nasal it up a bit. And when talking to the Brits my modulation is increasingly "how now brown cow".

As is the manner in which I speak. "How bloody bizarre" is now replaced by "how very odd". "How are you" has been killed off with "Alright?". And "that'd be great" chewed up and spat out with "I should be most grateful". Yes, I should be so grateful that this brown cow is slowly turning into a ponce.

But back to Dublin. After getting an enormous green stamp in my passport, it was off to wander the streets. Dublin is an incredibly compact city. After walking for about 2 hours, I had done the complete circle and thought to myself "what next?". So I ended up backtracking and going into a few buildings such as the National Library and wandering around the very pretty Trinity College grounds where I felt like an interloper amongst the young crowd. I tried to get into the Irish Parliament, but to my annoyance discovered that you could only visit by appointment. So much for open democracy. I visited the National Photography Gallery where they had an incredibly beautiful exhibition of B&W photographs done by an Irish photographer. Pictures of the most mundane things like the wood planks on a jetty can be absolutely magnificent in black and white.

By happy coincidence, my old mate from Uni Liam, happened to be in town as well that weekend and we arranged to meet up for a bite to eat and a drink. At dinner I had an Irish stew which Liam seemed to enjoy more than I did, and I had my first Irish Guinness! It's probably not something I would ever choose to drink again - a very heavy and creamy lager, but I was glad for the experience. We wandered around the rather touristy Temple Bar area which is a series of cobbled lanes of arty shops and pubs blaring out quaint Irish music. We ended up at a nice bar and had a yarn with the friendly barmen and was introduced to the rather mellow Kilkenny lager which was more to my liking.

Back at the hostel in my 12-bed dorm without the usual necessities such as lockers or having more than 1 shower or toilet for 12 people, I met an American girl who talked and talked and talked at me for over an hour. She was lovely, but I barely had a chance to open my mouth to ask what her name was. Upon meeting nameless American girl from San Francisco the next morning at breakfast I was relieved to find that her chatter was drowned out by a very loud and most unbecoming Aussie surfer girl who was such a "get-up-and-go-and-get-my-vegemite-true-blue-bonza-she'll-be-right-hooley-dooley-maaaaaaate-no-worries-sheila" that I almost renounced my upwards inflection right then and there. It was almost as bad as the Aussie bloke who was parading around his "CATS CATS CATS CATS CATS" scarf around Dublin airport. Dude. There is no need to parade around your allegiance to Geelong.

My final hours in Dublin were spent wandering around O'Connell St, reportedly to be one of the widest streets in the world. There was a street market down one lane where all I could hear was market stall proprietors yelling "forrrr for a tenerrrr". Sorely tempted, I stopped myself from buying 4 tins of chocolates for 10 euros which i would have needed to lug all the way back with me. I wandered by Dublin's largest cathedral, the Christ Church, but decided that I only had the funds to pay for entry into one church. So I decided to go into St Patrick's given its famous Irish namesake. There wasn't anything particularly special, but it was nice and peaceful. Lunch was an expensive affair where I gave up from trying to deal with the cold and found a crepe shop where I settled in with a 5 euro crepe (oh my lorrrd!) and a copy of The Irish Times. Bliss. Nothing better than hot food and a broadsheet newspaper at a communal table - in other words, no lonesome table for 1.

But it was back to London on my 1 pence flight where I had to keep telling myself that for one pence I would be able to put up with the rude Ryanair staff. Of course, the Ryanair gates were in the old basement of the newly refurbished Dublin airport, and of course Ryanair "forgot" to load the catering trolleys on to the flight. Not many happy campers on that flight.

And talk about stamina. Upon landing at Gatwick it was straight on the train to head north to Camden to celebrate David's birthday. Alex was there too which was great, and we had a nice Indian meal with David's friends in Kentish Town. By then I was knackered and had no energy for another Kingfisher beer - so it was back down south to home.

I'm off to see my family over Christmas (not in Australia though, so you'll still have to visit me here), so I've come to the end of the road for my 2007 blog. In December 2006 I would never have thought that I would be sitting in my lovely flat in London writing about my travels to Dublin. With all the usual ups and downs and one step forward two steps back, I'm optimistic for a great start out of the blocks in 2008.

Hoping that everyone has a wonderful and safe festive season. And now, given how little money I have, I am now going to make my lunch for tomorrow. Gone are those hot lunches at the Rialto - in comes the salami, cheese and rocket baguettes. Alright, the baguettes are slightly more expensive, but at 30 pence you can give me a bit of credit. What a bloody difference a year makes for sure.

See you in '08.