Caution: Scuttling Androids

...the bane of South Dublin motorists 

Summer in the City

Tourists to Ireland can be assured of at least two things in a given visit -- the Guinness will taste better here than in their home country, and the weather will be changeable.  And by changeable, I mean that they may well live four seasons/weather fronts in a single day.  

I hadn't realized how inured I'd become to this meteorological schizophrenia until my visiting sister-in-law, Danielle, remarked that, for an island so frequently visited by rain, very few people seemed to bother with umbrellas.  And it's true.  I don't own an umbrella.  Because I know the rain is either (a) the light, insistent, infuriating sort -- depression-inducing, but not enough to soak me or (b) will be over in ten minutes to make way for the next front of Mother Nature's choosing.  

However, there is light at the end of the grey, wet tunnel -- a brief period each year when the sun shines consistently with actual warmth and residents flood outdoors in a be-shorted, barbecue-crazed fever.  To the wrath of students nationwide, it generally comes about in late May-early June, coinciding with the key period of study time for the Leaving Cert, the school exam that determines university placement and, more broadly, future life success.  To the joy of potential tourists, it's as tidy a guarantee as any as to when they should book Irish travel. 

The good news?  It's happening RIGHT NOW.  Since Thursday, Dublin's been awash in sunshine, bare legs, sunscreen, ice cream, sandals and all the things we associate with a different type of island life entirely. 

For my part, I've eaten mango for breakfast, painted my toenails, slathered myself in SPF15 and worn just about every sundress I own.  Maybe it seems like I'm taking it all a little too far too fast.  But I'm not missing an opportunity to wear open-toe shoes without fear of blue feet.

So without further ado, time for the beach and a glass of sun tea...

Friday afternoon on Salthill Beach

Sun Screen / Tea

Nails painted? Check. Sundress? Check. Summer: I'm ready for my close up.

Sunset @ Salthill & Monkstown

Sunset, Part Deux

Urban Hikes for Man & Beast

Weekends at our house are about relaxing the humans and exhausting the canines.  We've discovered that a good way to achieve both aims is the Urban Hike, a long walk combining cityscape, greenery and takeaway coffee.  The first in the series kicks off with couture vintage and ends with falafel.  What can I say?  The Bitches have exacting taste in fashion and street food.

Begin at Lulu Vintage on Monkstown Crescent, well worth a visit, or an ogle if 
you've left your wallet at home.  I don't actually make it inside the store on this 
trip -- dogs aren't so welcome around Chanel, even if it is secondhand...

...but window shopping here feeds my fantasy of a life where I have reason to cycle (with a basket) around Paris in a flounced, turquoise skirt.

Selling the dream: one cleverly designed shopfront at a time.

We knock out a quick visit to Avoca Salt across the road for coffee (they also sell pomegranates here -- a produce extravagance at 1.90 EUR per fruit, but they remind me of what summer tastes like) and make our way to Salthill Beach. Relatively deserted for the hour and weather, save a few hardy souls gathered at the martello tower for their daily swim.  Respect, you crazy bastards.  RESPECT.

Foraging intently for razor clams.

My favorite game in Dun Laoghaire harbor is to review all the crap things people name their boats -- Calypso, Cathy-Ann (who?!), Sea Dancer -- and come up with alternatives. This week's entries include Crunkshop, K-Middy (or P-Middy if your boat has a particularly nice stern) and -- obviously -- The Black Pearl.

Per below, The Bitches' favorite game is to walk carelessly along the pier's knife-edge and I spend much of the time screeching their names, heart-in-mouth, while physically leaning my body in whatever direction is AWAY from the water.  Is not particularly effective as a deterrent or compelling force, but they've yet to fall the 30 feet to watery depths below -- touch wood -- so perhaps my physical osmosis is working?

Of particular interest to them on this visit is the plump, contented pigeon roosting, tantalizingly, in a nook some three feet down the pier wall.  Fortunately, even live pigeon can't compete with the lure of leftover bacon I just so happen to have in my pocket -- the dog owner's ace-in-the-hole.  (As DSPCA dog trainer extraordinaire, Alex Petrelli, taught us, "you wouldn't go to work if you weren't being paid.  Think of [insert bacon, cheese, sausage] as your dog's salary for good behavior.")

 

And for the non-bacon eaters among us, a final stop in Dun Laoghaire market for Dublin's best falafel deliciousness.  There are two stalls, always packed and always divine -- my discerning-palate strategy is to go for whichever has the shortest line.

Mmmmmmmm, falafel...

And they napped happily on the sofa for the remainder of the afternoon (ever after.)

Referend-hilari-um 2012

Was asked my opinion on whether below image would be appropriate to advertize debate on the Irish referendum for the EU fiscal stability treaty -- otherwise known as "The Vote to Decide the Future of the European Union."

My first impulse was to laugh/snort out loud.  On second inspection, realize I've no idea if the hilarity represents political bigwig reaction to the "Yes" vote or the "No" vote.

Following hours of deep political and economic analysis, my sense is that we might be a little bit f*#^ed either way...

My Lucky Charm

The leprechauns of Irish folklore are petite, mischief making shoe cobblers in green coats and knickerbockers, who hoard away gold in pots at the bottom of (frequent and stunning) rainbows.  They also have the power to grant three wishes -- or lucky charms -- to humans spritely enough to catch them.  (I've personally never had the pleasure, unless you count M...but I think he's too tall.  And also has yet to grant me three wishes.  Hmmmm, no, definitely not a leprechaun on closer reflection.)  But I digress...

In one of the stranger evenings I've spent in Ireland in my eight years here, M's cousin (let's call him Rick for the sake of this post) agreed to be hypnotized on stage in front of a live audience at a professional hypnotist's show.  Rick did and said lots of amusing things over the course of his hour, but the final act really took the cake.  The hypnotist convinced he and another girl they were proud owners of their VERY OWN LEPRECHAUN, a small being they would see and take full charge of for the next three hours of their lives.  

Rick couldn't have been more delighted to introduce the audience to his [let me be clear here: invisible, completely imaginary] leprechaun, Joe, who (he told us) chased him around the room and, later, followed him to the pub for drinks.  The hypnosis wore off, but the memory!  Ah, the memory stays with all of us, much to Rick's chagrin.

Anyway, given the leprechaun's long and storied tradition here in the Emerald Isle, I've always found it strange that General Mills' Lucky Charms cereal is nowhere to be found on Irish supermarket shelves.  M tells me it was sold here for a few years, to great acclaim, but that it suddenly disappeared from market sometime in the early nineties, leaving a small, but highly committed subset of the Irish population -- including M, his father and sister -- sad and bereft.  

Thus you can understand why my mother's popularity skyrocketed a few weeks ago, when the Irish Postal Service delivered M a "belated birthday" box of Lucky Charms through the mailbox.  His delight was matched only by his fury, when I accidentally let it slip to his sister that there were Charms in the house.  I think this photo says it all:

The Reverse Benton

For those of you familiar with the YouTube "Benton vs. The Deer" video, here's a photo of my bro's basset hound, Tater, executing what we're calling a *Reverse Benton* in Richmond Park over the weekend.  Pretty much everything this dog does in hilarious -- she can't help it, she's a basset in all that breed's long-tailed-droopy-eyed-floppy-eared glory -- but sometimes (I think you'll agree) she really outdoes herself...