A Shiver and a Show

This past week or so, Cheryl and I have been trying to figure out the best way to get through Ireland; which has been a little bit of a struggle. It’s always easier when you’re actually there, so we had decided to just wing it once we arrived. That was until I came across a fabulous alternative solution, which I am ridiculously excited about it: Paddy Wagon Tours. It leaves the morning after we arrive in Dublin and brings us back the evening of the third day. The great thing about this is that it will take us to all the sights on our required list (and some) and brings us back with almost two days left before our flight back to London. So we can stay in Dublin, check out somewhere new or head back to a place we particularly enjoyed, with time to spare even. It’s no less then ideal.

Details from my last touristy day in London:
"I just got told off for taking pictures inside the auditorium; one of many, of course. So the theatre is much smaller then I expected which makes my 17th row, ground floor seats a bit less then fantastic, but it could be much, much worse. I can’t wait for the show to start but I’m glad just to be sitting down because the morning was so rushed. I went straight to St. Paul’s once I arrived in London and despite the unexpected £9.00 entrance fee, I’m so glad I came back to see it. The 500 some odd steps to the top were killer, but the view was fantastic. The weather stayed sunny so all of London was showcased brilliantly; although the gale force winds at the top made picture taking a bit of a sticky wicket (ask Piechnik). I went there with the view in mind, but I wasn’t prepared for the incredible interior of the cathedral. The show’s about to start…"

"Another really cool aspect of St. Paul’s was the crypt below the floor of the cathedral which housed numerous tombs and sarcophagi; my favorite being that of William Blake. Horatio Nelson also rests in that place; I learned of his importance during my tour of Windsor Castle. From St. Paul’s, I rushed over to the museum and since I didn’t know exactly what time it was, I hurried first to a painting by Di Vinci before asking an employee what time it was. "1:30" she replied, which is exactly the time I needed to be on my way to the theatre. "1:30?" I asked her; very surprised that time had rushed by so quickly. "Well, 1:25, my watch is fast." I thanked her, made a beeline for the Vermeer and rushed for the door. However, my disbelief propelled me to inquire the time, to be sure, just before exiting the building: "12:30" the guard answered. I turned on my heel straight away and returned to the gallery, asking just one more employee along the way for the sake of confirmation. I was able to see everything I wanted and more before catching a bus to the theatre: Vermeer, Di Vinci, Monet, Rembrandt, Van Gogh and an amazing painting by Peter Paul Rubens called "An Autumn Landscape With a View of Het Sheen"; crap, I just realized I missed the Michelangelo. Of all the paintings I looked at, I do have to say that I found the Vermeer the most exciting. For some reason, "Girl With a Pearl Earring" is one of my favorite paintings, so seeing one of his paintings, seeing his very own brush strokes, gave me goose bumps. So I can see why they called it "Les Miserable". I’ll start with the negative: a lady a bit behind me felt the need to hum with the music, which became annoyingly audible at times; it’s beyond me why someone didn’t tell her to zip it. Second, why does everyone feel such a need to clap between musical numbers? It pulls you right out of the story. Well, that’s enough bitching. Just before the show, the two vacant seats on either side of me were filled by two rather large young Asian guys (one of which dozed off during the show) who didn’t speak a word to eachother the whole time. This wasn’t so much good as it was funny. The show was amazing: the acting, the singing, the music, the set; a shiver went up my spine as the opening music broke the silence once the lights had gone dim. At times I became aware of my ridiculously involved facial expressions during particularly emotional and dramatic moments. I found my mind drifting a bit during the mellower, unfamiliar songs, but that was probably just because I couldn’t understand what they were saying."

What a fiasco getting home. My train was cancelled and then all others delayed because of a stalled train on the track. I’m so glad I’ve got a grasp on the train system otherwise this could have been a really stressful situation. As it was, I did make it home; it just took over twice as long. It would have been earlier, as the first train that came after the track was cleared was one I could have taken, but it was so full and when people started pushing to fill in the last few spaces, the train employees started yelling to back away as the doors were closing and the train was about to leave: pandemonium. After sightseeing on my own yet again, I’m looking more and more forward to having Cheryl with me in a month; it’s too bloody lonely. I didn’t realized how uncomfortable I was getting with it until on the train home, a young man tapped me on the arm with his book to insist that I take a seat that had just become available. I didn’t realize it until I had been sitting down for a few minutes, but I felt like the bubble around me had been broken because someone had spoken to me and I was much more relaxed. I realized then that a big part of it was the fact that I didn’t feel invisible anymore. After pondering that for a while, I thought, hey, this is probably good for me; getting comfortable being isolated. But then I thought: why is that important? What’s so bad about being a relational person? I’ve decided that learning things about myself doesn’t always signal a necessary change.

I waited to post this because I leave for France tomorrow morning and although I’m bringing my laptop and will be writing regularly, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post any of it; you’ll all have a nice long read ahead of you when I get back…ahahaha. Au revoir mes amis.