Well, clearly I'm one poor correspondent. Sorry for the gap in entries. To paraphrase a popular t-shirt, "Sorry I didn't write. I didn't want to." That sounds harsh. I did want to. I just didn't want to write paragraphs on my phone. So now I'm at my computer.
Drogheda and the fleadh were an interesting mix of highs and mehs. There were definitely some super-talented kids on the streets, busking for change (which our tutor said was considered one step up from begging in Ireland), but most of them should have been at home practicing, not on the street...practicing. The streets were overflowing with lots of people, and it was generally a happy atmosphere filled with music and drinking.
The scoil eigse was essentially like the last several things I've done--MAD week in the DC area, the Swannanoah Gathering in North Carolina--where people try to learn in a group setting. I'm realizing now that that's not generally what's going to propel me forward in my learning and experience, though switching to the all-adult repertoire-building class was a definite upgrade for me. I met some lovely people who shared a love of the music and making it. On Thursday afternoon all of the students gathered in the auditorium of the school and played a bunch of tunes. It was like 500 teens and children in the audience, along with a bunch of advanced teens and adult tutors on the stage, all playing the same thing. It sounded somewhere between cacophony and junior high school band concert. I did not play, and I ducked out after the third set of tunes.
Friday night my friend Lauraileen and I went to a couple of concerts. The first was a group of different groups, ending with Frankie Gavin, but we had to leave for the second concert before Frankie made it on stage. The second featured the group Altan and the second half was a great ceili band. I misread the train schedule and thought we had to leave the concert early, but we ended up sitting for about an hour at the train station before catching the last train back to Dublin.
The highlight of the week for many is the competitions that occur over the last weekend of the fleadh. I got to see my new friend CeCe compete in the women's singing. Several individuals and groups from the DC area competed in instruments and singing, and my friend Kevin Elam won the men's singing competition, only the second American to do so. I sat in on that competition as well, and got to watch him win, and then accompany him and his girlfriend Rachel to pick up the trophy and get his picture taken for posterity. The trophy/plaque is an amazing totem to trad Irish singers, and includes Irish singing icon Frank Harte's name, which has been rubbed so many times as to be the only shiny name on the plaque.
That evening we bopped around Drogheda, ending up at a singing circle where 4 all-Ireland singing champions ended up, and each was asked to sing 2 songs. I was asked to sing one as well, and after we were kicked out of the venue around 11:30, Kevin and Rachel and I drove back to Dublin, making a pit stop to get some gas, grab a bite at McDonald's, and finally delivering me back to Trinity around 2 in the morning.
Over the last week I haven't done a whole lot, which is really OK. I had to do some work for clients, which I was able to do easily from here. Found some great places to eat, including a wonderful sort of crunchy-granola place that served delicious entrees along with two side salads that exuded healthiness. Definitely going back there before I leave.
On Friday I walked over the Jameson Distillery and bought a ticket to the "Bow Street Experience." If I were to give you one piece of advice, it would be "don't waste your money." The staff are lovely, and the place is lovely, and you learn about as much about Jameson whiskey and whiskey-making in general as you could find in a simple Google search. Being there does offer you the opportunity to do a taste-test of Jameson in comparison to 2 other popular brands, and you can buy about as much swag at the end of the "tour" (such as it is) as one would find at the end of a typical Disney ride. You do get a full drink at the end as well. If you're a whiskey drinker (I am not), perhaps their other experiences (they offer a lot) might entice you to give it a whirl, but there's no factory tour, and the closest you get to the experience of one is a perfume bottle filled with eau de whiskey that you can spray onto a card like you would at a department store counter.
Yesterday I hopped on a train and headed for Bray, which is about an hour south of Dublin. Got off the train, found lunch at a lovely little Italian spot, and then began the Cliff Walk to Greystones. A friend told me it's "about an hour or two." Two. It took two. But truly I'm not complaining. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was out but there was a cool breeze the entire length of the walk, and people on the trail were friendly and mostly courteous. The scenery was stunning.
At one point, where I felt I'd walked enough, I saw a guy walking in the other direction, holding an ice cream cone. I thought to myself, "That's a sign of civilization. Can't be long now!" A few hundred feet on, I saw an ice cream truck/van/mirage parked in the middle of nowhere. To quote our illustrious president, this was very unfair. But I trekked on for another hour and made it to Greystones in time to grab some water and get a train back to the city.
Once back on campus, I was almost to my dorm, listening to some trad tunes on my headphones, when an old man crossing my path yelled out to me, "You have Celtic blood!" Intrigued, I took off my headphones, and we had a mostly-one-sided conversation in which he tried to convince me that my DNA test was wrong, and in fact I have Celtic blood in me. He could tell by my skin and facial features. Hmm. OK. Fascinating conversation nonetheless.
Today is laundry day, my last one before I leave in a week. A good time to catch up on my last week or so.
Drogheda and the fleadh were an interesting mix of highs and mehs. There were definitely some super-talented kids on the streets, busking for change (which our tutor said was considered one step up from begging in Ireland), but most of them should have been at home practicing, not on the street...practicing. The streets were overflowing with lots of people, and it was generally a happy atmosphere filled with music and drinking.
The scoil eigse was essentially like the last several things I've done--MAD week in the DC area, the Swannanoah Gathering in North Carolina--where people try to learn in a group setting. I'm realizing now that that's not generally what's going to propel me forward in my learning and experience, though switching to the all-adult repertoire-building class was a definite upgrade for me. I met some lovely people who shared a love of the music and making it. On Thursday afternoon all of the students gathered in the auditorium of the school and played a bunch of tunes. It was like 500 teens and children in the audience, along with a bunch of advanced teens and adult tutors on the stage, all playing the same thing. It sounded somewhere between cacophony and junior high school band concert. I did not play, and I ducked out after the third set of tunes.
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| Adults class |
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| Everybody play! |
Friday night my friend Lauraileen and I went to a couple of concerts. The first was a group of different groups, ending with Frankie Gavin, but we had to leave for the second concert before Frankie made it on stage. The second featured the group Altan and the second half was a great ceili band. I misread the train schedule and thought we had to leave the concert early, but we ended up sitting for about an hour at the train station before catching the last train back to Dublin.
The highlight of the week for many is the competitions that occur over the last weekend of the fleadh. I got to see my new friend CeCe compete in the women's singing. Several individuals and groups from the DC area competed in instruments and singing, and my friend Kevin Elam won the men's singing competition, only the second American to do so. I sat in on that competition as well, and got to watch him win, and then accompany him and his girlfriend Rachel to pick up the trophy and get his picture taken for posterity. The trophy/plaque is an amazing totem to trad Irish singers, and includes Irish singing icon Frank Harte's name, which has been rubbed so many times as to be the only shiny name on the plaque.
 |
| Rachel and Kevin after Kevin's win |
That evening we bopped around Drogheda, ending up at a singing circle where 4 all-Ireland singing champions ended up, and each was asked to sing 2 songs. I was asked to sing one as well, and after we were kicked out of the venue around 11:30, Kevin and Rachel and I drove back to Dublin, making a pit stop to get some gas, grab a bite at McDonald's, and finally delivering me back to Trinity around 2 in the morning.
Over the last week I haven't done a whole lot, which is really OK. I had to do some work for clients, which I was able to do easily from here. Found some great places to eat, including a wonderful sort of crunchy-granola place that served delicious entrees along with two side salads that exuded healthiness. Definitely going back there before I leave.
On Friday I walked over the Jameson Distillery and bought a ticket to the "Bow Street Experience." If I were to give you one piece of advice, it would be "don't waste your money." The staff are lovely, and the place is lovely, and you learn about as much about Jameson whiskey and whiskey-making in general as you could find in a simple Google search. Being there does offer you the opportunity to do a taste-test of Jameson in comparison to 2 other popular brands, and you can buy about as much swag at the end of the "tour" (such as it is) as one would find at the end of a typical Disney ride. You do get a full drink at the end as well. If you're a whiskey drinker (I am not), perhaps their other experiences (they offer a lot) might entice you to give it a whirl, but there's no factory tour, and the closest you get to the experience of one is a perfume bottle filled with eau de whiskey that you can spray onto a card like you would at a department store counter.
Yesterday I hopped on a train and headed for Bray, which is about an hour south of Dublin. Got off the train, found lunch at a lovely little Italian spot, and then began the Cliff Walk to Greystones. A friend told me it's "about an hour or two." Two. It took two. But truly I'm not complaining. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was out but there was a cool breeze the entire length of the walk, and people on the trail were friendly and mostly courteous. The scenery was stunning.
At one point, where I felt I'd walked enough, I saw a guy walking in the other direction, holding an ice cream cone. I thought to myself, "That's a sign of civilization. Can't be long now!" A few hundred feet on, I saw an ice cream truck/van/mirage parked in the middle of nowhere. To quote our illustrious president, this was very unfair. But I trekked on for another hour and made it to Greystones in time to grab some water and get a train back to the city.
 |
| OMG, I walked that entire mountain! |
Once back on campus, I was almost to my dorm, listening to some trad tunes on my headphones, when an old man crossing my path yelled out to me, "You have Celtic blood!" Intrigued, I took off my headphones, and we had a mostly-one-sided conversation in which he tried to convince me that my DNA test was wrong, and in fact I have Celtic blood in me. He could tell by my skin and facial features. Hmm. OK. Fascinating conversation nonetheless.
Today is laundry day, my last one before I leave in a week. A good time to catch up on my last week or so.
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