Switzerland

I apologize that this entry is so late in coming. In truth, it is well over a month since I returned back to France from visiting my cousin in Basel. In my defense, however, this last month has been quite hectic with exams, friends leaving, changes in schedules, etc. Now to play catch up:

At the end of February, those of us studying at the Institut de Français pour les Etudiants Etrangers had a short vacation of five days. I took advantage of the situation to take a train to Switzerland to finally visit my cousin, who I had been intending on meeting since shortly after arriving in France. The entire situation worked out well; despite purchasing my tickets only shortly before leaving, I managed to get good prices and was even able to accompany my friend, Brittany, to Paris, the first half of her trip back to Cincinnati to surprise her parents for her mother's birthday.

The travel went fairly smoothly. Brittany and I left on a night train to Paris. I refused to let her travel by herself as there were many suspicious looking people on our train, and after thirty minutes of wandering from car to car, we were finally able to negotiate to have two seats next to each other. We talked for an hour or more before finally falling into an unrestful sleep. We parted at Gare Montparnasse in Paris, her to go to the airport and me to catch my next train at Gare de l'Est. I then caught the metro and waited for two hours in the cold Paris morning before climbing aboard my second train to Basel.

Once in Basel, I quickly found my cousin Stacey, and together we went back to her flat were she had graciously offered me a (very comfortable) couch to sleep. This was the first time we had ever met and despite a few emails earlier in the year, really did not know much about each other. At her apartment, we caught up quickly, describing our own histories and those of our families. Her boyfriend, Thomas, joined us later that evening after work. The next day, Stacey and I wandered through Basel, seeing some of what there was to see, as she explained to me some of the local buildings.

While I was there, Switzerland was celebrating Fasnacht, so it was decided that the three of us would go together the following day to watch the festivities in a neighboring city of Liestal. But since the biggest activities were not until after dark, we decided to go hiking in the foothills southwest of Basel before going to Liestal. It was a beautiful hike and from the crest of the hill, we could see the city of Basel, Germany to the north and France to the west. We had local hams and cheese at a lodge and then got in the car to drive to Liestal. Along the way, we saw a castle overlooking a small town, so we stopped and Thomas and I climbed it. We arrived in Liestal that evening, had a traditional Fasnacht meal of sausages and beers and then waited on the main street for night to fall and the parade to begin. The parade was a composed of troops of people dressed in traditional masks, marching through the streets playing fifes and drums and carrying torches and pulling wagons of fire through the narrow streets. Thomas advised us to not be in the front row and later that night, the reasoning behind his advice became apparent: some of the bonfires that were pulled through the streets were unbelievably large, with flames that reached three-stories high; anyone in the front three rows were forced to recoil and attempt shield themselves from the heat of the fire. The parade lasted for over and an hour and was quite impressive.

We drove back to Basel that night, but Stacey and I awoke less than four hours later to watch the beginning of the Fasnacht celebrations in Basel. When the clock on the ancient Basel Münster cathedral strikes 3:00 am, all of the lights in the old city of Basel are extinguished and troops of fifers and drummers, also dressed in traditional masks and wooden shoes, march through the city, each playing their own songs. In addition, other similarly dressed troops pulled illuminated floats, decorated with satirical images from the previous year. The marches continue until daylight and processions often become stuck for extended periods of time as thousands of groups attempt to march directionless through the narrow city streets. Stacey and I wandered through the festivities for over an hour before escaping to experience a different aspect of Fasnacht: the cellar. During Fasnacht, hundreds of cellars are opened and local bars install tables, chairs and everything needed to sell beer, hot chocolate, tea, coffee, cakes and traditional soups. Here, Stacey and I had a pleasant breakfast of beef soup, beer and tea. We saw more of Fasnacht later that day after getting some more sleep.

Sunday was very relaxed as all of us were fairly tired from all of the activity of Fasnacht but Monday, Stacey and I went back downtown together and visited, among other places, the Tinguely Museum. Jean Tinguely was a local artist from Basel who worked throughout the mid-20th century. His work is very unique and interesting; I will not attempt to describe any of it here, but the museum has a fine website for those who are interested. We ended the day by buying chocolate and had a meal of fondue that night, prepared by Thomas, and accompanied by a Jurançon wine that I had brought from France.

My final day in Switzerland was Tuesday, and Stacey accompanied me to the train station mid-morning that day. It had been a wonderful trip.

Dublin

The next day, St. Stephen's Day, I caught a mid-day flight from Stansted Airport, north of London to Dublin. Throughout the journey, I flew with an Irish airline called Ryan Air. For those that do not know, Ryan Air is the least expensive airline in Europe, but as the saying goes, "You get what you pay for." Ryan Air is a glorified bus line. Ticket prices are next to nothing, but you are charged for every conceivable thing, from the checking of baggage to overweight carry-ons to checking in at the gate to the toilet on the airplane. Thus I was very relieved when in Stansted my airline-allotted one bag was exactly 200 grams under the weight limit for carry-on luggage.

I arrived in Dublin that evening and easily found my hostel (here I am going to make a second sidenote to say that my ability to find my two hostels and one hotel in the massive urbanity that is London and Dublin is proof enough that God was taking care of me throughout my travels). I checked in at the hostel and went out to find a meal. I was horribly disappointed to discover that Dublin is more expensive than London, a city notorious for being expensive. I settled for a sandwich from one of the local grocery stores and determined to eat a large breakfast the next day at the hostel.

To be honest, my first impressions of Dublin were not positive. Dublin is truly everything you imagine it to be, the good and the bad. My first night I mostly encountered the bad when I wandered in the wrong direction and walked along what appeared to me to be a prison wall and passed small gangs of ruffian children. I did receive some jeers and unwelcoming stares, but like most places, if one squares his shoulders and walks with a purpose, it is unlikely that he will receive anything more aggressive.

The next day, I was so exhausted after ten days in London that I decided to spend the day in my hostel room. Everyone who had been staying in the room from Christmas had left that morning and everyone due to arrive for the New Year's celebrations had not yet arrived, so I was able to rest, do laundry and reorganize my luggage that afternoon.

As I said, Dublin contains all of the good and the bed one expects of the city and despite my early disappointment, I ended up thoroughly enjoying myself there. Dublin does contain plenty of interesting things to see and do. It is home to many museums, several breweries and distilleries, interesting shops, churches and of course, more pubs than probably anywhere else in the world. I saw it all. My first day, I visited the country's oldest and most famous university, Trinity University. I did not see the Book of Kells (a famous and beautifully illuminated Bible from the Dark Ages) simply because I wished to save my money for other things. I did, however, take a tour of the Guinness brewery at St. James' Gate. I intentionally took my time to visit the various sites of Dublin. Still over the course of the next week, I saw much of what Dublin had to offer. I was there for New Years', so I went to prayers at Christ's Church Cathedral on 1 January. It was a small gathering, but very beautiful and impressive to be able to be more than just a tourist in such a beautiful church.

But I came to Dublin for the music. I met my friend Bríd, another fiddle player, the third or fourth day I was in Dublin, and she took me to her favorite music store in Dublin to inquire about where to find the best sessions. The clerc suggested Gogarty's in the Temple Bar district, the massive collection of bars and Irish restaurants on the south bank of the Liffey River that Bríd told me she would never walk through after dark when she was a student in Dublin fifteen years ago. Nevertheless, Temple Bar has been greatly gentrified in the last ten years and I found Gogarty's easily. I was greatly disappointed, however, when I entered the bar on the ground floor and heard "YMCA" on the speakers, but I noticed a sign on my way out that indicated a second floor to the bar. I climbed the stairs with anticipation and was relieved that before I even arrived on the landing, I heard the distinct sounds of a fiddle and Irish pipes. I was at home, and out of the nine nights I was Dublin, I spent four of those nights in Gogarty's until the early hours of the morning. The only unfortunate part of all of this was that my own violin was still in France; it was more than a little painful to be stuck outside of the circle of musicians.

By the end of my trip, I was anxious to return to France, so I was content to check out of my hostel at 11:00 am on 4 January. My plan was to bum around Dublin for the rest of the day and then catch the last bus from Connelly Station in central Dublin to the airport and pass the night reading and potentially sleeping in the Dublin airport until my 6:00 am flight. Unfortunately, Dublin airport closes overnight, a problem I had thought about but hoped would not occur. I had already passed through security, but after midnight, all of the airport employees except the cleaning staff disappeared. The only real problem with all of this was that the airport also turned off the heat during this time. It was roughly thirty degrees outside, and with the large windows and high ceilings, it did not take long for the interior of the airport to fall to that temperature as well. There was one other passenger in the airport, a German man who happened to be on my flight to London. Being alone together, we talked for several hours, mostly about European politics but also about travels and how uncomfortable the chairs in the Dublin airport were, all the while receiving confused looks from the cleaning staff who later told me we were not supposed to be in the airport. I did start to worry when around 2:30 that morning it began to snow. Like Western Washington, when it snows in Ireland and the UK, everything shuts down. I was very worried I would not make my connection in Stansted back to Pau since I had less than two hours between flights. Fortunately, the snow stopped at about 4:00 am and very little of stuck. The delay for deicing lasted only fifteen minutes.

I again arrived safely in London, and shortly before my flight, met up with my friends Oliver and Josi who had spent the night in the Stansted airport after returning from their own vacation in Stockholm. We all were fatigued from the lack of heat and sleep in the airports but were happy to be together.

We were all on the same flight and when we arrived back in Pau, their host mother was already waiting for us. She was happy that we were back safely in France and immediately drove us back to their house for lunch. After lunch, I walked back to my own house. I was quite happy to be home and my host parents were almost as happy to have me back when they returned home from work that evening. It was a comforting feeling to be able to shower and sleep that night in what essentially feels like home to me now.

The Bank of Ireland:

St. Patrick's Cathedral:
The well where St. Patrick is thought to have baptized his first converts in Ireland:

Christ's Church:

Trinity College:
Edmund Burke in front of the school gates:

The Campanile:
Graduate's Memorial Building:

Oscar Wilde at Merrion Square Park:

O'Connell Street:

St. James' Gate:

Molly Malone:

The Four Courts:

The Customs House:

Looking west and east along the Liffey River:

Samuel Beckett Bridge:

Jeanie Johnston, one of the ships to carry hundreds of thousands of emigrants to America:

The Linesman:

The famine memorial:

With my friend Bríd:

Gogarty's: