Wow. I am actually in Dublin. In Ireland. In Europe. Where I am actually meant to be, I am pretty sure. Anyway, it was not too bad getting here, and there are not too many stories of craziness, but I will exaggerate as I usually do.
On Wednesday, I caught the plane in Calgary (in excellent time, thankyou!) and did the overnight flight to London. I only got about 3 hours of sleep, but my tiredness didn't kick in until a lot later. I made it to the other side of Heathrow, which was a journey in itself. That place is huge! I then flew to Dublin, and the airport was so loud and bustling that I felt a little overwhelmed. I caught a city bus to O'Connell street, not really knowing how long it would take to get there. I asked a crazy lady when I would be at O'Connell, and she let me know where to get off. It was only supposed to be a short walk to the apartment, but apparently you are never supposed to know where you are in this city. I took me about 20 minutes to find that streets are marked in fading letters on broken fences and sides of buildings. Needless ot say, it took me about 30 minutes to find the apartment which was about 3 blocks away. On the map, Granby Place was a street, and in life it is an alley. Sketchy? you bet!
I got settled in and went out for something to eat. When I got back, I turned on the kitchen light, and one of the bulbs exploded all over the kitchen. Awesome. Also, there was no broom. The Handy-man came the next day (today) with a new bulb, but no broom, so I used the mop to "sweep" up the glass. Luckily there is a "hoover", so I will not get too much glass in my feet.
Jess is here now, so I am thrilled to spend time with her and do some sightseeing. I am prety proud of myself for travelling alone and getting here relatively unscathed. The worst thing that has happened to me is that I came within about 6 inches of stepping in human poo about 30 minutes ago.
Sorry I missed poetry day, but I was pretty tired last night and writing pretty much jibberish in my emails last night. (I you were a recipient of one of those, I am sorry...) Anyway, I am going to include a poem I wrote last weekend, even if I am a day late. Hey! I did misplace about 8 hours, you know.
For Him
Your handwriting is curious
but, then so are you-
a curiosity.
One contradiction follows another
when you walk by
Your quiet tones
and laconic manner
are belied
by the words slashed across the page
conveying confidence
and even urgency
Your fingers-
impossibly slim
strong and balanced
must fairly dance across the page
Oh, to be a pencil in your hand...
JKO, May 2008.
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