A Trip to the Shamrock

Dear Readers,

When we left the sunny weather of Barcelona, we were in for a rude awakening. We landed in driving rain with cold and wind. It was it the fifties. Luckily I had brought my winter coat, hat, and gloves for the occasion. It's always like this in Northern Ireland, even in August. Every one hates the weather!

We walked off the plane in Belfast. There wasn't much in the way of security or emigration. I find that most of the European countries feel security and stopping terrorists in an American problem despite the fact that England has been hit more times than us with terrorist acts. And Northern Ireland, well, their terrorists are home grown. Their worst enemies are themselves. They don't import trouble. They make it.

What do I mean by that? The last time I was in Northern Ireland, I was nearly arrested by the British police for stupidly leaving a book bag in the lobby while a maid was cleaning my room. All the local hotels had been bombed for conducting Catholic weddings. The one we were staying at was the only one left. Why bomb Catholic weddings? Well, it goes back 1000 years when some one in England thought it would be a good idea to get rid of those pesky Irish and pesky Scotch-Irish by resettling Northern Ireland with Scotch-Irish settlers. In order to do that, the English threw the Irish off the land, made it illegal to speak Gaelic, and severely oppressed the Catholics. So the Scotch-Irish got the good stuff and the Irish got the potato famine. It wasn't until after WWI that Ireland was freed from British rule. Northern Ireland never wanted to be free. They wanted to remain part of England. The Irish want it back and they were willing to fight for it. That's when the fighting, bombing, killing began. Catholic versus Protestant. This went on for twenty years. The last time I was there, barricades were up in Londonderry and I couldn't tour the city. I was excited that now times had changed and I could explore the city to my heart's delight.

Gone were the British police and the barbwire stations. If you call the city Londonderry, then you want the area to remain British. If you call the city Derry, you are an advocate of returning the land to Ireland. Alot of people have the sign "You are entering Derry" in the window which shows which side they are on. They did take a vote a while back and the majority voted to stay with England so that was that. Britain would like to give it back to the Irish because the majority of the people are on British welfare and unemployed. But the people won't have it.

Koch (Invista) is one of the biggest employers in the area. We were picked up by a private driver whose job is to pick up people in Belfast and drive them to Londonderry. He talked the whole way! It rained the whole way. We passed sheep, the green country side, and the new wind mills they are trying out. Then we came into Londonderry and our hotel was right on the river and the base of the wall. Londonderry was founded in the 1600's as a plantation. They built a heavy wall which is still standing-against many kings' assaults. After we got settled, we ventured out looking for dinner. Since it was Sunday, most places weren't open. But no one drinks like the Irish, I mean Northern Irish. Pubs galore. But I wanted food too so we settled on this restaurant and went in. Alot of men were in there, sitting in front of their large beers, and staring at the beer like it was their only friend in the world. I watched them the whole time I was there. They only got up to smoke outside the front door. Did I mention that the Northern Irish smoke as much as the Spanish? Like chimneys, even the young people. But the drinking was crazy.

We enjoyed our dinners and by the time we finished, the rain had let up. My shoes were soaked and my umbrella inside out. When the sun peaked out, we went walking on the wall. It encircles the inner city and most of the people live outside, across the river. It used to be that the protestants lived on one side of the river while the Catholics lived on the other side. Never the two shall cross. Not any more. There's a new bridge linking the two sides called the Bridge of Peace. We walked along it.

The next morning Steve left for the plant early and I was left to enjoy my breakfast alone. I couldn't eat very well at this time or the rest of my stay in Northern Ireland because my gastroparesis had flared up. I did the best I could. It was often the worst in the mornings and better at night. After breakfast, I went to a local guild and talked to a genealogist about finding out about my Irish ancestor, John B. Talbott. He gave me some ideas but mostly just wanted to talk to a fellow historian. Then I went to the Tower Museum where the remains of the Spanish Armanda are housed. They were found by a local diving club some years ago, one of them a member of the Dupont team who built the plant. Great exhibit. I met some people from Texas there as I learned all I ever wanted to know about the history of Londonderry-right up to the minute.

Fifteen years ago I had visited Londonderry, ate lunch at this restaurant and bought a vase at the crystal place next door. I went right back there, had a chicken salad with soda bread and then went crystal browsing. The same old man was there. Ha! Then I toured the wall, stopping at a very old church with a cozy cemetery. An old man beckoned me in, had me sign tghe register, and told me all about the little Church of England there. I felt right at home. The members were very aged and they did what they could with the elderly in their area-delivering food and flowers. They were true Christians!. Next I went to the big church on the hill, also Church of England built on the site of a former monastery. No one was there. I waited. Thought maybe they were out to lunch. Other people came and waited, griped because the door was locked. As I was walking away, finally some one yelled out to me that the door was open now. So I got to go in after all. Very nice. The windows were pretty and I find something warm and fuzzy about being in an old and beautiful church. Even feel at home in the cemetery. (Weird, I know). Then I went back to my hotel to write. When Steve returned it was raining hard again so we ate a nice dinner in the hotel.

The next day I only had a hlaf day before we needed to get back to Belfast. So I went directly to the souvenir store where I meet a nice lady who had one son at the Invista plant and one at the Dupont plant. I made her day. Then I went back to my crystal place and bought four wine goblets and a pitcher. Steve had warned me that I couldn't get them home without breaking them. But I didn't live in Singapore without learning how to pack glass items. So I repacked everything and yes, got everything wrapped up to travel (and they did). Then we were driving back to Belfast.

Again we stayed in a very nice hotel next to the river. It was a bright sunny day so we walked all around the river and all through downtown. I saw that they had turned their old churches into malls. We took pictures of the Parliament Building where all this peace business had been hammered out. Good for them. Soon our time in Northern Ireland was gone and we had to leave for a stop in England first, then a flight to Washington DC. It was very easy as I had no one sitting next to me. Now I was determined to stay home for awhile. Famous last words.

Don't Cry For Me. Sinagpore-Part II

Dear Readers,

So there we were being dropped off at a hotel (if you can call it that) called the Travel Lodge. They are everywhere. They are awful. There is only the barest of furniture, maybe two towels, maybe a sheet (that they don't change along with the towels), and a cereal breakfast that they charge a high price for. We never ate breakfast there the whole time. We were forced to skip that. No internet. I called down to report I couldn't get the shower to work and he said, "It may be broke." Like that was OK. But I made him come up and he got it working. Thank God I had that because that was all I got.

Steve had to attend the trade show down the road every day with a couple of thousands others from all over the world. I wanted to get into Barcelona and see the sights so I was walked to the train station ( a good walk from the hotel) and told to get there. I studied the book so I knew where I wanted to go and how to get there. So you got a ten stop ticket (a nice guy helped us) and then I was told I was on my own as Steve had to get back to work. Okay, buck up, I told myself. I can do this. So I got on the train, followed a bunch of people until I got to the subway, and then lo and behold I did pop out where I wanted to go! The Maritime Museum. Only it was closed for renovations. So I opted for Plan B. Across the street was the marina and I entered the aquarium. I saw all kinds of things, penguins, sharks with tumors (experimental animals?) along with lots of other smelly people. Did I mention that women in Spain don't shave and they don't use dedeorant? I was hungry by this time so I decided to hit the McDonalds. Spanish McDonalds was interesting. I had a a burger that was just like a whopper-mayo, lettuce, tomato and it was great. Fries and a coke. So then I made my way back to the hotel where Steve found me.

Then we got back on the train (by the way, they don't believe in escalators). By this time, I could hardly walk. Up and down. Miles and miles. We met a fellow engineer and his Japanese wife for dinner at the marina. We enjoyed shrimp and fish. When we didn't place an order right a way, the waiter got mad and disappeared. We had to ask him to come back. After that, the service was bad rest of the night. He had attitude galour!

One thing I should mention. I was surprised by the amount of Asian, Indian, and Middle Eastern emigrants that I ran into in Spain. They all spoke Spanish-it's obvious they were part of the culture but I was still surprised at the number of waiters, sellers on the beach, shop owners who were from other countries. Spain is a big importer of help.

Anyway, we made our way back to our Travel Lodge and the next day Steve went to work again. I tried to find the Picasso Museum. Picasso had lived for awhile in Barcelona and his friend and art dealer had died there, leaving alot of stuff to the museum (which had been someone's rich house).

Spain has alot of issues with signage. The sign was pointing at a wall across the street. I had the choice to two roads so I took the one less traveled. I ended up at a farmers market. So I retraced my steps and took the other road. This time I ended up at the museum, bought a ticket, and was soon examining sketches, cartoons, the blue period, the rose period, the early period, of Picasso. I tried to get out but was stopped by the guard who yelled at me in Spanish. Eventually I found the exit.

Now it was time for lunch. I went back the way I came and passed a nice resturant where I ordered a small salad. I should say that "small salad" means a salad with tuna fish dumped in the middle of it with corn. The coke was good. The waitress was very snotty when she realized I was a tourist.

Hey, my money was good!

So then I walked to the Cathedral of Barcelona. Here was a church built by the city guilds in 14th century. Gothic! Huge ceiling, dark, stain glass, and saints in every niche. I loved it except for the large part under renovation. I saw Saint Elizabeth! Out back they have geese locked around a pool. They use to warn the priests that enemy were coming. The steeple was falling off so they were taking donations for that. The homeless and cripple lined the steps asking for money. Funny, I saw the same people at another cathedral the next day!

So I was looking for the Temple of Augustus remains and finally asked at the information booth. I was told (in English) that it was part of the Museum of Barcelona down the street. So in I went. I enjoyed this place very much which recounted the history of the area from Neolitic times to the present. It was a bit overwhelming. Barcelona was a Roman town so in the basement, they have the Roman ruins under glass. As you walk over top, you can see wine casks, fish drying, and fabric dying remains as well as mosiacs and villa remains. Then it goes on until you end up in a 14th chapel. The first church in Barcelona was built over a Roman villa. No Temple of Augustus. I was misinformed.

Then I went back to the hotel. We needed an adapter for the computer so that Steve could contact the business back home. So I led him back to the marina area where I knew there was a mall. Here we found Tapas Tapas and ate tapas. I was very sick with my stomach by this time and this helped me out. Good food? Not really. Spanish? You bet. We got the adapter and saw the Columbus statue. See, Columbus left for America from Barcelona!

The next day was Saturday and Steve was off. Here was his chance to sight see and it was pouring down rain! Out came the umbrellas. We headed off in the wet to the train station. Once we got to the subway, however, I got stuck with a dead ticket. No one could understand what I was saying. Finally a worker let me come through to Steve and we bought a new ticket. Then we were off. First we saw the Arch of Truimph. Not as big as the one in Paris but here is was! Then we headed back to the the Cathedral of Maria, one of the oldest churches in Barcelona. It was smaller than the one I had been at before but very old and quaint. Very Gothic. It was still raining. Then we headed back to the Cathedral of Barcelona and Steve got to see that. By now we were aware that it was a holiday-the Lady of Mercy. We never figured it out but it included rock bands in every square and fireworks.

We ate at a sandwich place for lunch and it stopped raining. Yeah. Then Steve led me to an alley where I got to see the ruins of the Temple of Augustus. It was inspiring. Then we got back on the subway to see the famous Sagrada Familia (Sacred Family) designed by a famous architect named Guadi. If you have something gaudy, he designed it! Here was a brillant man who didn't believe it straight lines and was evidently the hero of Tim Burton. He designed apartments, buildings, parks, and finally this church which has never been completely finished. They have been working a hundred years so far. Not a straight line in the place or even pews. Christ looks like he is hand gliding in. Work of a crazy mind-well, some would say so. Gaudi went all monk in his later life, then crazy, then broke and homeless until he was finally run over by a bus. And the whole city of Barcelona calls him their homeboy. They love him!

After that we were utterly exhausted and unable to walk so Steve suggests that we WALK more to the National Art Museum which is kinda outside of town but on the subway. You just have to walk to it-all uphill. There were some escalators which I had never seen before on the outside, exposed to the rain and what not. It was the former government palace way up on a hill. After dragging oruselves all the way up, we were disappointed to find that they had closed early for the holiday. So we walked more to the Olympic Stadium behind the palace. That was impressive. We never did figure out what they used it for nowdays.

So we limped down and went in search of dinner. We spotted the Barcelona Bull ring and went over there to check it out. It had been turned into a mall and was closing. We chose the restaurant Tapas Gaudi and just ate there. I had left my purse on the chair and the waiter warned me against that. Evidently there is great crime there but we neve saw any evidence of it. Just cops everywhere on the street, subway, train, and roads. There were signs warning us against crime but luckily we never witnessed anything.

Now we had to say goodbye to Spain, Adios. The next morning we took a plane to Belfast. This plane had no movies. You paid for food. We had a sulky teenager with us who was just annoying.

We went from nice sunny hot weather to 40 degrees and pouring, driving rain. Welcome to Northern Ireland.

Don't cry for me, Singapore

Dear Readers,

This is my last blog on this site because it makes no sense to ask the question, what sound does a merlion make? I am hell and gone from Singapore and I have no idea when I shall return, if ever. I miss the heat, the sun, maybe even the mosquitoes. I don't miss the little monkeys (tenants) running around upstairs at all hours of the night, the small cramped apartment, and the tons of people on the street literally blocking your way every way you tried to go.

The return home has been fraught with incompentency. It took us almost a month to get the land line hooked up. The unlisted number turned out to be a former number of a deadbeat who all the bill collectors are after. Imagine that. The phone didn't work for the first three weeks so the little man came out and unhooked it from our dead computer line and hooked it up to the real phone. Now we enjoyed all kinds of calls looking for deadbeats.

We got the little box from Verizon for the internet. It's a step up from dial up. So now we need a wireless printer and a phone upstairs. Money seems to fly out the window.

Steve had a business meeting in Spain so we got a flight to New York (direct to Barcelona from there). We spent a couple of days with our youngest daughter Beth and her boyfriend Mike.

We traveled to the 911 Memorial at Ground Zero. We were very lucky to get tickets. We ate lots of yummy dinners too. One the last day, Sarah and her boyfriend Mike surprised us. We spent the day walking on the Manhattan skyline and enjoying the view.

From there we got on the plane for an overnight flight to Barcelona. I never went to sleep of course, I never do. Did enjoy some movies, TV shows, and interesting airline food. Interesting in a bad way. Anyway, we landed in Barcelona and the sun was shining. We got our luggage and finally figured out how to change our money. Then we got a taxi-gave him the address of Sitges, a beach resort outside Barcelona. The taxi driver acted like he had no idea and he didn't speak English. Sure he knew where Sitges was but the hotel was completely another matter. He drove through the mountains and tunnels, strip mining is the norm there. Once he got to Sitges, then the real fun began. He stopped every few feet trying to find someone who had some idea where our hotel was. Eventually we arrived. Our hotel room was in the alley, not facing the ocean. But it was good size and had a TV. No hair dryer so I was frizz ball the whole vacation.

Sitges is the gay capital of Europe. Funny, but it wasn't in the brochure. I found out by observing that females were few and far between. Most females were with other females. Males couples were everywhere, most of them German. I was definitely in the minority. Another thing I learned-in Europe clothes are optional. There were whole beaches with naked men (it wasn't pretty) but on my beach, there was a mixture of men and women. The women sunbathed without tops. Of course my husband thought this was great. Children ran around naked. I spent four days laying on the beach trying to save my dying tan. Topless? Well, when in Rome . . .

Poor Steve had to work. The engineers from Northern Ireland came in-loving the weather. One night they played volleyball after the work day. We ate at the Argentina steak restaurant one night, and the chicken restaurant the last night. I roamed around the streets, admiring all the cats, the narrow alleys, interesting art shops, and as always, people watching. The only museums there were closed for renovation (this was a trend everywhere I went). Sitges is famous for a fort that sits on the hill overlooking the beach. They fought the British there in 1718. I couldn't tell who won.

Now I took Spanish in high school. I even hoped to major in it in college. But I couldn't get fluent. What I found out in Sitges was that when you are emersed in the language, you do pick it up. Soon I was following the soap operas and reading signs. The speaking part was hard though. I always reverted to English and they could always answer me. Reluctantly though. The waiters quickly became snooty when they figured out you weren't Spanish. We pointed and they huffed. It was torture getting the bill. A simple lunch took hours. I got tired of that.

Then came the end of our time in Sitges and we had to pack up and move on. A taxi guy came, again didn't speak English, and didn't have any idea where to go. He kept calling friends and asking where the Travel Lo-Key was (Travel Lodge Hotel). This bare bones place was within walking distance from the ITMA conference center where Steve had a trade show to attend.

We drove around in circles until finally we saw it and got there alive. Then the real adventure began . . .