A year in the life of an Australian writer in Ireland.
This blog is now closed.
If you'd like to read more, please visit my other blog, Ivy is here.
Thank you for reading Dublin Up.

Sunday, February 15, 2004

A wonderful weekend
Lazing about in bed, then wandering around the neighbourhood, doing the week's shopping... this is just about the best thing about Sundays.

I can't say much better than that. I hope one day to live a well-earnt month of Sundays.

Last drinks.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

The end is nigh
It's almost been a year since I arrived in Dublin.

When first I came here, I was confused, overwhelmed and not a little scared at the thought of fending for myself for the first two weeks in a strange country. I found work and, eventually, friends and have gotten to know a little bit about Dublin.

Life here has been as if it were life anywhere else, all the quotidian details of working and living your life outside of work. In Ireland, there have been more opportunities to see more of the world, with an accessibility that makes me envious, when seen in the light of Australia's remoteness to other countries. Travelling has been a good thing, and I'm so thankful for that.

I'll be concluding the Dublin Up blog on the 15th, and reminiscing in a rather saccharine fashion about everything that catches my eye. Readers of this soon-to-be-ex-blog can keep their own eyes on my other writing blog, Ivy is here, which won't be all that sweet, and may even be tart on occasion.

Almost time to bid you adieu, my dears. Almost time for last drinks.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004


What Video Game Character are You? I am Mr Do.
I am Mr Do.
I am sedentary by nature, enjoying passive entertainment, eating when the mood takes me, and playing with my food. I try to avoid conflict, but when I'm angered, I can be a devil - if you force me to fight, I will crush you. With apples.
What Video Game Character are You?

Monday, February 09, 2004

Walkabout
A day of movement, walking from place to place, despite the cold. A picture of a statue, a building, a stone flower, my digital camera giving an approving little beep everytime I press the button. The cold, the sun playing peekaboo behind the clouds.

Every trip to and from Dun Laoghaire on the bus sends me to sleep, falling on Mark's shoulder, waking up in time to see the final destination looming. The Martello Tower in Sandycove, located near the Forty Foot Bathing Place, houses the James Joyce Museum. A good long walk from the bus stop to the Point, dogs and their evidence punctuating the footpath ahead. The wind like a shock of steel coil around my neck, bare skin.

James Joyce has two death masks.

The warmth of a pub after the museum trip, looking forward to fish and chips, chose to have seafood chowder—so creamy, the salmon tasted of sea mist, sea salt. The tingly itches on the skin as heat returns to the blood. Cider sweetening the tongue, loosening the limbs. The padded seat underneath welcoming me into a state of satiation.




I didn't tell Mark this till after the wedding, after we'd switched from Luxor's basic room to the one several floors up, the one with a jacuzzi.

One night, while I was in the loo, I had the strongest feeling of wrongness about it. An immediate image came to me.

The poor guy.

By that I mean the man who'd hung himself in the shower.

It was just a flash, an image.

I probably shouldn't have told Mark during breakfast. I guess I wasn't thinking. After Mark got over the shock, he speculated that it was likely to have happened there as any place. We were, after all, in Vegas: dreams are made and lost here, as random as life.

It didn't help that it had happened on the 13th floor.

'I don't have any confirmation of this. Maybe it's just my overactive imagination, you know? That's just as likely.'
'Mm,' Mark replied noncommittally. He'd stopped eating his food.

The reason I mention this now is that Mark sent me this headline: Vegas' grim side surfaces monthly.

Creepy, huh?
For a visual taste of Tasmania

Friday, February 06, 2004

The world is a coin
I actually wandered out into the world today.

No more cabin fever. I go to create. At the library in Rathmines, in the second floor, there are desks and chairs. I sit, I write.

There are many coins in Dublin. Usually you see them lying around, casual, forgotten. Ever since someone told me that these coins were lucky, I've been picking them up.

I found a €1 once. I bought bread with it. That was lucky.

Someone asked for my cinnamon tea cake recipe today, so here you go, tea cake-maker!
Cinnamon Tea Cake
½ cup butter • ½ cup castor sugar • 1 egg, beaten • ½ cup milk • 1½ cup self-raising flour • 1 tsp butter, melted • 1 tsp cinnamon • 2 tsp castor sugar
1. Grease 18cm round sandwich pan. Preheat oven to 190°C.
2. Cream butter and sugar. Mix in egg.
3. Add milk and flour alternately, one-third at a time, mixing lightly.
4. Place in pan and bake for 30-35mins.
5. Cool slightly on cake cooler.
6. While still hot, spread the butter and sprinkle a mixture of cinnamon and sugar.
Yum! Perfect for chilly nights, wonderful when hot from the oven. Ah, the taste, aroma and warm fuzzies!

Thursday, February 05, 2004

Deadly
That's my boy!Wrinklies tend not to use this word. It means 'that's great' and 'awesome'. There's a slight drag and lilt in the first syllable, but it is enunciated most emphatically.

Deadly.

By the way, groovy pic on the right left, right? [Now you know, I'm directionally dyslexic.] Taken in the MGM casino, a moodier joint than the one in the Luxor, which was just loud and bright. But they both had that stale smell of 'loser' that was hard to miss.

Good thing we left.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Money-back guarantee?

Money-back guarantee? On a vasectomy reversal?

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

The indrawn breath
Another odd thing. Here. In Ireland. They use the indrawn breath. As punctuation.

I exaggerate, of course. It's commonly used to express a combination of mild shock, disbelief, agreement and wonderment at the state of the world today, especially in the face of bad news. It sounds more like the breath before a plosive gasp, or as if one is suppressing a hiccup, yet nevertheless one carries on with the conversation:

'Did you hear yer man's after raising the price of Guinness next year?'
'(indrawn breath) Ah, yeh. It's unbelievable.'

At first I thought that a lot of people just suffered from asthma. Until I knew better.

So endeth the lesson for today.

Monday, February 02, 2004

Hypnotised
Ain't it a purty bunch of daisies?The most fun thing about the wedding was how, once the game got started, once the ball was released, the lever pulled back and the hammer struck home on the silver metal ball, it was nothing but one, big, glorious pinball game.

Limo pulled up, pinged us straight to the Marriage Licence Bureau. Meantime, we had to fill out a form. Ping! Out the door. We waited in line, and the look and feel was of bureaucracy at night, sleepy and relaxed. Ping! To the dude who asked us to sign another form. Ping! Back to the limo! It felt cocooned in there, nocturnal neon lights blinking, bourbon and champagne glasses gently clinking in their cradles. We played with the controls, put on some music, put the screen up, so that the driver talking to his girl on his mobile phone was muted to zero.

Ping! We're at the chapel. I re-arrange my garb, am told that our pictures will get taken first, and am given my bouquet of daisies.

Ping! The photographer poses us in cheesy atttitudes, and we giggle and laugh. Afterward, the wind is so cold around my neck when we go outside, steals around my ankles and wrists and I hold onto Mark to share his warmth.

Ping! This is it! We talk to the minister briefly. He asks us if I want to walk down the aisle and Mark says yes. Because I have, in fact, lost my voice, I rasped out to Mark (back in our hotel room, while we were getting ready) to tell the minister to choose something where I'm talking minimally.

I walk down the aisle. I am looking at the minister and then I look at Mark. I say I do. I whisper my vows, but somehow it is loud enough to be heard. We exchange our rings. Mark and I kiss.

We pick up the marriage certificate. We go back to the limo.

"Did you see that? The minister was hypnotising us. He kept saying 'true love' and 'best friends'," Mark said.
"No, I didn't notice anything." I smile and feel relieved and happy because it was more fun than I believed it could be.

I'm glad we didn't go for a traditional wedding. I would have felt crushed.

We are at the door of our room, and Mark remembers to carry me over the threshold.

He closes the door.


Saturday, January 31, 2004

Written on Saturday, 24th Jan 2004 ♠
Ain't it a purty bunch of daisies?Took bus into airport. All belongings for 4 day jaunt packed into one small suitcase, one backpack and my handbag.

Rang my mum, brother & sister before we left to let them know we're leaving in half an hour for the airport to catch a plane to Vegas and get married! They were very excited and congratulatory for me. My sister nearly moved me to tears, so effusive were her good wishes.

Still not 100%—trying to shake off this odd bug I've got. I think I'm losing my voice. I hope I have enough left for the wedding on Monday (Australia Day) to say 'I do'. It's crazy exciting and fun.

We're getting to be veterans at packing and travelling.

Almost one hour away from O'Hare Airport in Chicago. It's going to be weird, to be surrounded by American accents.

We've got another five hours' travelling ahead of us, from Chicago to LV [Las Vegas]. It's going to be mad.

Being sick while on this flight is not so bad—I was afraid I'd go deaf from the cabin pressure on ascent, which is what had happened to this hairdresser who [had] cut my hair in Aberdeen. But no fear, I can still hear.

The temperature in the plane is so cold. My feet are so chilled. And these blankets are crap—not so nice as Cathay. Plus there's no screen in the seat in front of me. That sucks. Still, what else could I expect from Aerlingus? We'd ordered special meals for the flight and they weren't even sure if we were on board or what. Talk about slack.

Still, the grapes were nice.
The bouquet I left behind

Ain't it a purty bunch of daisies?



Friday, January 30, 2004

Las Vegas, yeah! ♠
As one of you has already guessed (well done, Ian!), I have been in Las Vegas. And boy, was that a trip!

I've probably been a little strained and strange with my recent postings. There's a reason.

Mark and I eloped. To Las Vegas. Got married at the Little White Chapel on Australia Day (yay), got driven in a limo and then got back to our room at the Luxor (that spectacular pyramid-shaped hotel) exhausted out of our minds, finally, finally relieved of one month's worth of stress.

You know, it was more fun than I expected. And we're ahead of the casino by a couple of dollars when we bet on the machines. So it's all good.

On our last two nights there, we had a jacuzzi in the room. Mm, jacuzzi... Those are cool fun.

We brought back with us no small amount of souvenirs. Do you know there's an incredible range of cinnamon-flavoured sweets in the States? There's even cinnamon TicTacs. What's with that? Mark's somewhat obsessed with the cinnamony Altoids. He'll be sad when his stash is gone.

Las Vegas only makes sense at night, when all the lights are on. Then it's pretty.

I tried to keep a four-day mini-journal of the trip but I only got one day down. No matter. I'll post it tomorrow.

Yay!

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Quick update
I'm home but cannot blog, except on our little Jornada, which, though a lovely wee machine, is not enough for my writing needs.

Just to say I've had fun, seen some strange things and will post pictures soon.

Saturday, January 24, 2004



I'm off on an adventure.

Friday, January 23, 2004

Tiger [fragment]
I was stroking a burnt-orange tiger under its chin. We were under a wooden house and angled slashes of light shone dusty in the darkness.

I had seen him approach and though at first I was afraid, when he came close, my hand of its own volition found the v-shaped bone just below the thick pad of his chin and started scratching. The tiger closed his eyes and pushed harder against my fingers.

The black stripes on his back gave off a sullen glow, like old coal, when he shouldered past the light towards me. His chin was white, his ears relaxed and his tail lazily waving behind him. My fingers found him.

He liked my fingers and his eyes were closed. He liked me. And I liked his approbation, emanating strength like a warm muscle wrapped around me. I felt that him liking me was a good thing. I felt good that I wasn't afraid.

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

Tiger
The fiery and complex stripes of a tiger indicate your captivation with an impulsive new person or plan in life. The behavior of the big cat portends what outcome such a bewildering new influence might bring you. Watch carefully and discern the difference between the flames of rebirth and wanton vicious destruction.

Tiger
This large and very beautiful cat can symbolize femininity, power, anger, unforgiving vengeance, great force, and cunning. Tigers cannot be ignored, and usually they get exactly what they go after. Consider all of these characteristics and try to see if they apply to your or anyone else's current mood or character.

I was stroking a burnt-orange tiger under its chin. We were under a wooden house and angled slashes of light shone dusty in the darkness.
How smoking rules Ireland
It is anomalous when people don't smoke in Ireland. The recent proposed ban on smoking in pubs is driving many member of the Irish citizenry in a frenzy.

I saw a boy who looked no older than nine years old light up a cigarette as I was walking down O'Connell Street. Maybe he looked nine years old because smoking had stunted his growth. Anyway, seeing him left me feeling outraged.

I hope this so-called ban is enforced, but I wonder if it will.

Tuesday, January 20, 2004

How women apply their makeup in Ireland
Women in Australia tend to be a bit more restrained with makeup application. Women in Aberdeen, Scotland, tend to apply a more visible makeup, but the women in Ireland take the cake, which they must use on their face instead of eating.

Why the munchkin look, girls? It is very disconcerting. My theory is, they watch the tanned girls on Neighbours and Home and Away, and want to look like them. This is just scary! You can see where their face ends at the edges of their jawline.

I do believe Halloween is over. You can take the masks off now.

Next: How smoking rules Ireland

Monday, January 19, 2004

How to say goodbye on your mobile phone in Ireland
How do you do it? Here in Ireland, it is as many times as possible. On the bus, I have heard it at least twice. 'Bye, bye.' Far more common is thrice: 'bye bye bye'. But the most I've heard to conclude a conversation by mobile phone is 'bye bye bye bye bye'.

I'm sure that must be some sort of record.

Do you think the Irish love or hate to say goodbye? Ah, bless.

Next: How women apply their makeup in Ireland

Friday, January 16, 2004

Sign

Sorry... the sign had to go.

Thursday, January 15, 2004

You guys!
I updated that cool link, which all [two] of you probably clicked on, and then thought, So what's the dealio, yo? Or maybe not. Anyway, look at it again, because it's still cool, even though it's still a slow load.
My brain is melting
I've probably forgotten something, right? Ah, heck and damnfire! Why are there so many deadlines on top of each other at this time of year?

The one company I approached in person is avoiding returning my calls. Maybe I scared them off. Maybe they think I'm stalking them now. What can you do?

If you'd like to give away a free printer to this here writer, send it over. I'll make good use of it, I promise. It'll die a happy death, having given birth to masterpieces of poetry and prose.

Ahem again.

I'm getting hungry. Where are those apricot jam sandwiches?

Wednesday, January 14, 2004

Go look
Mark sent me a link to this page. Pretty graphics-heavy so it might be a slow load, but it's worth it.
For a footloose girl
I'm certainly making a good pretense at acting busy. I was up till two in the morning, writing on my various projects.

These past few days have been an odd existence, too — living my life online. Well, today, I'm going out and meeting a friend from my old work for coffee. Enough of being cooped in like a chicken. Stretch my feathers! Straighten my neck! Peck, peck, peck!

Ahem.

I received a lovely postal shower on Tuesday: one letter from Hobart and a CD from Hong Kong. After a little investigation, I found that the CD was no other than from Mark! The latest one from Tori, a 'best of' album with accompanying DVD. Yay! Apparently, he'd ordered it off a local website, which is probably affiliated to one that imports from HK. I no complain. Nu-uh.

I think I'm slightly loopy. I might need a little more sleep.

There's a job in the UK that is due this Friday. Luckily, I can email them my application, so no need to worry about stamps there. Here's hoping I get an interview. I would love this job! I get to edit other people's words. What more does one want? (Hm, what about a Piaggio scooter, month-long trips to the Carribbean where one is waited on with pina coladas and freshly sliced mangoes, an outrageous sum in the money, a lovely cottage by the sea, a sleek, nut-brown writing desk with lots of hidden compartments, a swingy-new dress, slinky lingerie, fetching shoes? I could go on all night.)

As it is, I've gone on long enough.

Tuesday, January 13, 2004

My blog entries are suffering lag
I'm just getting help for it now.

In other news, no job offers as of yet. Am madly scribbling, however.

Monday, January 12, 2004

I think I've been typecast

Plath
Eh, you got Plath. Sucks for you.


Who is Your Alter Poet?
brought to you by Quizilla

Saturday, January 10, 2004

Shopping
I steeled myself yesterday and actually dropped in a resumé, in person. I figure it's better for people to meet me (and when I say people, I mean the receptionist), rather than speak to some anonymous voice on the phone, or not reply to an extremely professional, well-written email.

Let's see if this strategy actually works.

Not certain, however, whether all this activity... no, I won't finish that sentence. Too negative. Every effort is good. Motion creates emotion. Say yes. Say yes and opportunities will present itself.

Today, Mark and I will toodle into town and do some shopping. Yay! Go, consumerism! We won't be bad. It'll be more like a giant, perambulating window-shopping deal, rather than a buy-the-store-heck-buy-the-whole-damn-mall extravaganza.

(I scare myself sometimes. What am I saying?)

Friday, January 09, 2004

Ooh, I like it
A paper camera! Oh my cod, isn't it the coolest, acest thing ever?

I want one!

And no, I'm not procrastinating. Well, maybe a little.

I went out with my ex-workmates and they were happy to see me. I've never been with such a great bunch of people before, who are so welcoming and genuinely like talking with me. They've even organised a dinner so that we can do a casual-type book-group thing.

So we're doing Indian at this place called, and I kid you not, it's called Nagina Tandoori. And yes, it's pronounced just as you think. I must admit to doing a double-take when I first saw the sign.

Mm, mango lhassis are yum.

Thursday, January 08, 2004

Scattered
Okay, I'm feeling it, I admit. But see, some good will come of this scattiness, because I'll eventually feel bored enough to ...

Umm, what was I saying? Sorry, I started to go into this trance because I rang up a poetry publisher this morning (it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be) and asked them what did they require for a poetry manuscript submission and the lady basically said they only publish one a year, and that they were full up until 2006. Which is something I really did not want to hear, but knew that it was going to happen, anyway. Ah, well. What was I saying before that?

Yes, so today I got bored motivated enough to actually ring people up and try to tee up some work.

Do you know how phone-phobic I am? Hm, maybe I'm exaggerating the phobia bit. Let's say I'm unwilling.

I'm unwilling. Though now it seems ennui is a great kick up the butt.

Wednesday, January 07, 2004

She gets paid
Oh, yeah, only a month later and she rolls in a (small) pile of dough! Excellent. A cheque! For turning up to a movie set and doing nothing.

If only the rest of life were as cool.

Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Not used to it
People don't know what to do with warm sunny days. I do. Loll. Lounge. Swagger. Stroll and enjoy the sun's rays as they plow furrows into your scalp, clothe your skin.

Monday, January 05, 2004

Sky rockets in flight
I love it when my orange juice is pithy and pulpy. You can really taste it then, and it gives just that extra zing to the morning.

All the coloured paper streamers that once littered the living room now trails and almost smothers our tabletop Christmas tree. Just like in our old place in Hobart, on Bathurst Street, a few hang on the curtain rails in a rather rakish and decadent fashion. We enjoy popping our poppers. Probably gave the guy living below us a scare, but what the hey, it's New Year's.

Our fridge contains remnants of Christmas cake, brandy butter and tiramisu. Almost time to weed them out. Our eyes were bigger than our stomachs.

Saturday, January 03, 2004

That song of tiredness
Had such a broken sleep last night. Getting better though, I think.

We have a friend from Hobart (who now lives in Sydney) here in Dublin staying over. We got this fold-up mattress, and he said he had a comfy sleep on it. So that's good. We were up till past midnight, talking, so we probably kept the guy downstairs from sleeping.

It's rainy-wet out there.

Thursday, January 01, 2004

Don't know why
While not up to the level of warfare that ensued on Halloween, New Year's was still pretty impressive. There were lots of fireworks last night. These crazy Irish! Don't they know it's illegal in many countries for a reason? They sure were pretty lights in the sky, though.

And the house is clean, but I am ill. I've just requested a cup of tea from Mark. Here's hoping he delivers.