Dublin: La Pizza Speciale

What day is this? 4th already. Still in Dublin, I am currently feeling like some computer addict (which obviously I am not) spending my time in a cyber cafe.

 

It seems like a week has passed, being thrown from one impression into the next. Although addictive, it takes a lot of of me. The prospect of keeping this up for any amount of itme isn’t helping much, either.

There, I’m done complaining.

 

New years was… childbirth. Screaming, kicking, drinking (holy shit) and singing at Temple Bar, which is qctuqlly the name of a street.. I downed more alcohol than I have in the past 24 years, easily covered by 2 Baby Guinness and a good amount of Baileys. Up until the very last moment we had no place to stay whatsoever, and just as we thought we had things settled, the guy in question disappears without a trace. It took the stretched patience and warmth of someone we just met to find us a place to crash. His house was full already but he took us in nonetheless. With 2 charming German girls and his roommate and himself, that gave a total number of 8 sleeping in his moderately large place. His welcome was more than we could ever ask for and I can thankfully say, it was the perfect start of a hopefully equally perfect trip.

We ended up spending a few days with the girls, colleague couch-surfers, seeing Dublin and whatnot. The Guinness brezery, interesting but not all that much for a beer hater like me, Trinity College which was closed, and um yeah that’s it.

 

You wouldn’t believe the place we are staying at now. It’s an hour drive from Dublin on an overpriced (more on that later) bus, up on Tara Hill. Tara was, if I’m not mistaken, a kingdom within Ireland, now dissolved in the republic. It’s got a hill, obviously, which is now an archeological site and the center of the locals’ pride. And now the Irish government has decided to run a motorway straight through it, digging up the graves of their ancestors and destroying ancient ritual ground.

As a protest to that, camps were built on the site, growing up to over 100 people. Eventually they got evicted however, and what is now left is a structure on a nearby farm. A tent of sorts, large enough for 2 big rooms, made waterproof with sails and insulated with blankets. A home made stove serves as heating, and with the available blankets and mattresses, about 6 people can sleep comfortably if it weren’t for the damn cold creeping in. It’s drafty, it’s humid, it’s dirty, and it’s where we’ve been staying for the past 3 nights. And I’ll tell you what, I love it. I’m looking forward to going there again tonight.

The protestors aren’t quite what you would expect. Anarchy is for the politically active, these men are mainly on about their culture and their love for it. During the many talks we’ve shared, I found their pride to be contageous. Their love for their country, as opposed to their hate for their government, is what really drives them, and makes each individual a warm personality. They are adults, and even while our philosophies match almost seamlessly, I was simply amazed by the things I learned. Instead of telling me what I knew already, they explained how they put it into practice: Making a living while preserving your individual freedom, active/passive protest, and even a spirit for fighting the good cause that I have yet to find in Belgian anarchists. At christmas they went to place candles among their ancestors’ dug-up bones, they organize meetings, and so on. It’s… warming. It kindles.
They have scaffolding material and upon hearing I can work with it, they asked if I would be interested to build a tower to hang up their banners. I would do it in a heartbeat. Hell if they were about to disable construction machinery tomorrow, I wouldn’t even have to think about it.

 

Dublin is fucking expensive. It’s just unimaginable how much they dare ask for things. €10 for qn ordinqry bus ticket, at leat €15 for a hot meal.

People in general are… nice. Dublin is a kind of small town and it is obvious. In the surrounding towns the friendliness only increases, and the "antisocial" attitude in the city is frowned upon. I would hate for them to end up in Brussels some time.

qwerty keyboards. Fuck I hate them. If you notice typos, here is why: Q and A are switched. W and Z. ; and M. Symbols are all over and none make sense. 3 syllqble words are automatically misspelled and sentence structure is tossled together. It’s not me, honestly.

Pictures so far can be found here. Comments are welcome.

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