I know, I don’t have readers anymore, because I abandoned my friend the blog for about six months. So there , it’s how it goes: I’ve been staying in France for a few months, and I got through some tests and did all sorts of stuff (I’ll spare you the details) and anyway, I’m now starting to study again (distance learning of course: I couldn’t be tied down somewhere because I have to go to uni and all) and, hopefully next year, I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to teach French all over the place. Needless to say, I’m pretty interrested in Ireland and Australia.
The fiddle practice is going as good as it can without Mammy or Sinéad to help me (read: Quite badly) and it’s gone out of key and now sound very funny. The advantage of this situation is, I can now blame it on the fiddle if my playing sounds like shite.
I’ve turned 25 sometime in the mist of this end of year. The years that come and go and I barely notice.
I look back at it all, how it all changes, and I think: oh, my, how fast.
I like learning new things.Once I’ve learned something new,it gives me the impression that my day was not wasted,that I am indeed going forward,although I’m not quite sure towards where I’m headed yet.
I like to estimate how hard I’ve worked the past week by looking at the amount of rosin dust accumulated at the end of my fingerboard;I like the pine scent of the sticky block of rosin when I slide it along my bow.
I like the ensemble of squeaky fiddles not played quite right yet,the tunes played completely wrong and the subsequent collapses into fits of laughter.I like being not quite good in a space where it doesn’t really matter.
I like the rare times when I get it right;they are precious accomplishments,if small,and I save them like gems,the warm feeling for rainy days.
You’d understand,I didn’t want to give up on the end of the fiddle term,despite having to come from Kilkenny,which is two hours away by bus,for the lessons.
So last week I was quite confident I was going to be able to come in the morning,do a bit of shopping,go to my lesson, and then stay over at some friend’s place for the night.
After various shenanigans,the “staying at friend’s place” part of the plan didn’t work out (Too long to explain) let’s just say that we kept trying to contact each other but failed to succeed,me having no mobile phone didn’t help the situation.(have to buy a new one very soon)
After walking around in circles wheeling my one wheeled suitcase and carrying my fiddle case on my back,I decided to go to a hostel.A jolly hostel manager greeted me and asked me what brought me to Dublin.The whole story was too long to explain and I couldn’t think of any way to explain it that didn’t make me sound like a tool, so I simply pointed at the fiddle case and said it was music related.
“Ooooh,you’re a musician! Why not do a gig at the hostel one week end?!”
Sure,I can if you really like the Kerry Polka,because it’s pretty much all I can play,I thought,but I said I couldn’t do gigs yet because I had to “Perfect my musical abilities”.
“Ah,you’re too modest” he said merrily before he handed me the room keys.
Two of five students had actually given up on fiddle,so was quite glad I had decided to come. Only three of us left.Was a nicer,but more intensive class,that was.Got a chance to chat with other two girls.Still didn’t chat a lot with Sinead, Sinead very small,very smily and very gentle but still frightens the life out of us pupils for some reason, maybe it’s the speed at which she can play reels.
After managing a reasonable set of Polkas, we said goodbye and I headed back to hostel.Spent a few hours on the internet and almost falling asleep with head on computer keoboard,went to bed.
Woke up with tiny little red dots on my arm. Dots dissapeared quickly.Forgot all about it and went on with my day.
The next morning,tiny dots had reapeared in whole new ginourmous reedition.whole arm was red,inflated and itchy;had huge boil on left cheek.Am still on anti allergy tablets and cream,but thankfully it has all gone down.
What you wouldn’t do for fiddle class!Now if that’s not dedication!
I had a msn message from the friend with whom I was supposed to stay overnight.I logged in today and saw it.He’d sent it when I wasn’t online.
Anytime I dream or think about Australia, it tends to be a week en in Victoria.This time was no exception.
It was all very clear;I was sitting in the Royal,listening to buzzing conversations and watching Dennis Walter’s local news about Sunraysia football league and the water situation.Then I was in the ute and I could feel the blazing hot wind and the sleepiness of a long drive through the arid bushland.I could hear the exploding noise of shotguns at claybird shooting,and the crackly sound of cool cans of Couguar zero, VB and UDL being opened by merry guests on the barbie boat .I could feel the cool,mouth fiering but mind soothing vodka and lime cocktails drank in the backyard while cooking barbecue.I could smell the damp,fishy smell of the special pond full of yabbies in Dangalli.I could hear old fashioned country songs playing in the background and uncle Phil cracking jokes, and the guests increasingly sleepy laughs, as the sun retired in an explosion of colors,and the night unfolded its dark veil embroidered with millions of stars.
I woke up in grassy fields,I saw out of a window more shade of green that I thought existed before I came to Ireland.I listened to a hornpipe,notes swiftly bouncing in the air,I picked up my fiddle and played notes and laced them together into a jig.
Now,sometimes,I’d really like to be able to live in two places at the same time.
For a few reasons, I had to leave my job in Dublin two weeks early,ahd to leave the baby Beatles…and so that means I’m back to where it all started, staying in aul’ Firoda with Little Fairy,Little Elf, mammy, daddy and the new supernanny who is nice and comes fom Italy.Iz great.Was missing them.
But, have decided am still going to go back to Dublin for fiddle lessons because
a) Don’t want to dissapear on Sinead
b) Am impatient to learn Slip Jigs and Reels
c) Fiddle lesson is the only place where I can play awful and do shite for two hours, and still get out feeling like I’m the musician of the century.All thanks to Sinead’s clever way to cricticise our performances “Yeah, the beginning was a bit funny and the end not so good,and the middle not exactly right yet, but overall, you’re all awesome, I’ve never heard a class play so well,that was wonderful,well done!”
Other news of the week
Had news from two of my three BFFs.Me and BFFs met in Australia,and now I live in Ireland, Marguerite in Korea,and Jennifer in Slovaquia.Still,even though we’re far apart,it just feels good to know they exist somewhere in the world.So am seeing BFF Marguerite this summer as we should both be in France at the same time for more than a week, ad this is an event about as rare as solar eclipses.If Jennifer can be there it would be just great! (but realistic probability of us three being on the same continent at the same time:about the same as winning tattslotto, one in several millions).
Had also occasion to talk to uncle Phil, our Aussie uncle,on the phone.Was three in the morning on a saturday night, and so was half asleep (coming back from clubbing) but still was very good to talk to him.Missing Australia loads.Loving Ireland,though.Dunno.
We’re going to west Cork with fellow nanny Do and her host family.They have a new three month old little Thumbelina baby I can’t wait to meet!!And I’m hoping to get some Irish dancing tips from six years old and four years old girls before I start in September. (Girls had already given me a crash lesson last year and I was quite hopeless at it but never mind.I’m made for Irish dancing, I mean,look at me, I have those ringlets naturally, I don’t even need to wear a wig like all these girls )
…was the fiddle ensemble at our first group lesson today.Haha!
the teacher
Is very pleasant.
Read teacher’s biography on myspace a few days before I started.Has been playing fiddle since before she could walk,has a PHDZXY in musicology,has played for the Queen of England the Marajah of Somethingland and still has patience for us bunch of eejit who can’t play A and G in a row because it’s too hard with the fingers.Very nice.Not at all as scary as her biography.Am liking her.
The pupils
All seem quite nice and were all just as terrified as I was.Am not the only one who’s fingers are shaking on the fingerboard!Only one guy there.All seemed quite good at fiddle, though, and they had no sellotape cheats on their fingerboard like I did:) at least not until the end of the lesson.
the lesson
At the beginning,teacher had to tune all the fiddles so not much was going on.Was trying to chat us up but everyone was too terrified to respond in other ways than mutters and clattering teeth and borborygms.Communication didn’t get much better between teacher and pupils despite teacher’s claims that she did not intend to bite any of us.Am really going to make a conversation effort next time.
Have learned how not to play my D’s flat, and that’s all because of the position of my thumb am pretty happy with that,and am doing lots of practice!Really looking forward to lessons now,and learning my first reel!
Overall,a lot of screechy sounds and discreet winces from Sinead “Hem,yeah,almost there!Well done!”
haha awesome fun!
Here’s the Spectacular Spectacular song from the Musical Moulin Rouge.Janey,haven’t seen that film in ages,makes me feel so nostalgic.Anyway.
Friends! Just a quick post to let you hear my fiddling progress.Now this is a video of me playing the Kerry Polka, it is still a very simple tune but I’m quite pleased I’m able to play it!I’m going up the next level of difficulty now, trying to learn a jig!
Last november, I was in Connemara and the scenery was all drowned in rain,wind battered and raw; it was hard to imagine summer could reach out to that part of Ireland,and well,it actually did. This time, it was almost sunny all day,the waterfalls had dried up due to lack of rain,and summer had extended a glittering green veil over the hills and mountains.It was completely different from the scorched land I had seen months before.
Good things about the day.
*Almost no rain.And a whole day with no rain in Connemara happens like, never.”Rare as rocking horse shite” as you man would say.But well.Still is one of the nicest place I’ve seen.
*Tour guide didn’t make us listen to all the tourist songs like the wild rover and whisky in the jar all day in the bus, telling us that this is the true trad Irish music.Instead, he put on a cool proper trad CD and Do and I tried to guess if they were jigs or reels, marches or polkas or hornpipes.The music fitted incredibly well with the scenery.I even recognised a couple of tunes.
*Kylemore Abbey was less creepy when I was visiting with Do and not on my own.
What wasn’t so cool:
*Visit of Kylemore Abbey Garden.Started raining like mad(only rainy bit of the day), and couldn’t get a good picture:Hords of French people insisted on walking past me with their umbrellas while I was trying to take a pic.
*”Authentic” craft shop where we stopped for 25 minutes.Full of
tye dye extralarge shirts (Handmade in Donegal,the label said.Seriously.)
Kway jackets, the kind I hadn’t seen since 1987 (Now whe knew where tourists we had seen the night before got there evening clothes from )
Keyrings made in Taiwan
romance novels that had nothing to do with anything.
All in all it was a great day, excellent craic I would so love to spend holidays in Connemara!
For the song in my post title, the version I prefer is the Altan version because I think there’s no voice nicer than Mairead’s but here are two very good versions too, my fave being the first one by Micheal O Dhomnhaill but the other one is pretty cool as well.
All right. So we were all sorted,and we were ready to go out.
We both had experienced nightlife in different Irish cities and knew for a fact that Irish girls dressed up very well to go out (like Aussie girls,despite the arctic climate in Ireland).
Not wanting to look underdressed,had brought our best dresses, Do had spend hours picking the right shoes,I had hesitated hours to decide if those shoes, this bag and these earrings matched together and,having decided suddenly, at nine o’clock at night when shops were closed, that bare legs weren’t de saison , ended up buying a bandy aul pair of leggings off Do(8,95 e.).
All pampered and happy with ourselves, we left.I was wearing a blue satin dress and Do a nice empire line dress.On the way, we mat two women who threw us an incredulous look and almost stopped to stare ay us like we were creatures from outer space.
“Did you see how they looked at us ?” Do asked.
More people we crossed path with gave us that bewildered look and we soon noticed that almost nobody was dressed up like we were.We started to feel awkward and overdressed,big time.
“It’ll be OK, I said.Once we’re in the pubs everyone will be dressed like us”
We walked down to the main street where all the pubs were, and before we reached it, a woman wearing a sequined cowgirl hat,a t shirt that would fit a five years ld kid, supertight jeans and spike heels stopped us and handed us a flyer.
“We’re having a coyote girls night,ladies!No entrance fees, just for you!”
We politely refused.Did we just get invited to a Coyote Girls night ? That wasn’t because of the way we were dressed, was it ???
The funniest part was when we actually reached the pubs.They were full of tourists who were just coming back from their excursions and sported plastic waterproof jackets battered jeans, knitted jumpers from the seventies and runners.Pardon me?
“Where are all the dressed up people ?” Do asked.
We went to several pubs and we couldn’t find any of them.
We ended up finding a few nicely dressed girls later in the night but they were a minority.I now think being overdressed is waaaayyy more embarassing than being underdressed.
Anyway.I decided the best response to that was to get soopa doopa pissed and I was quite right;after a few drinks it wasn’t so important anymore and I did enjoy the trad band in this Irish pub even if it was soooo a tourist trap.
this is the song I named the post after (here sung by Rod Stewart but the original was Dean Martin if I’m not mistaken)
Enjoy , and stay tuned for part three,and our visit of Connemara!
16H00:Going shopping for Do’s shoes (Had no shoes to go out the same night, so finding shoes crucially important.)
16H15:Do finds shoes in Penneys, size 7,her usual size. “Those are ginormous, too big for me” Do says.I rummage through racks of shoes and find size six.Do tries them on.
16h45:After walking through Dunnes Store back and fourth 29475683 times (Do has a hidden talent:Catwalk model.) Do realises those are squishing her left little toe and that is inadmissible.We are both very cross at Dunnes Store (Why would they produce such sneaky shoe size, I mean, you have to keep them on half an hour to know they are too small ? Seriously.) And give out loudly.Lady who was trying on shoes on little girl turns to us and seeing two mad women babbling in unintelligible weirdo language (French) quickly packs up child and runs away.
17h23: After rejecting several pairs of shoes at Dunnes (“I said black shoes.Do these look black to you?” “It’s black” “No no it’s kinda grey” “No it’s black” “Yeah from where you’re standing it’s black but see, on that angle it’s grey” “Well try these on then” “But they have bows on them” “Well?…” “Well won’t people think I’m an eejit if I wear shoes with bows? ” “…”) we head for Penneys.
17h25: After browsing Penney’s stylish selection of ballet flats (Pink see-trough plastic, orange with turquoise polka dots,etc,etc) head out of the shop and go back to Dunnes.
17h58:Do tried on about every pair of shoe on the rack but none is ok.Back to Penney’s in case we have missed something.Didn’t miss anything.Security guard didn’t miss us either and starts staring at us,with all the going in and out must be thinking we’re planning robbery.Heading to Barratts.
18h22:The funny thing about barratts is that you don’t have all sizes on display,like in Penneys or Dunnes, you have to ask employee everytime you need a new size.Barratts Girl goes back and forth several time.Am seriously hoping Do will buy something or girl might throw shoes at us.Do hesitating,dangerously close to saying thank you very much for turning all your shoe stock upside down but am not buying anything.Fear on my side.Finally Do says magic words I’ve been waiting for for hours. “I’ll buy those.”
Already exhausted…..And what will the night be like ?
END of part one
(This is the song in the title of this post.)
If you want to read part two, about our “Bridget Jones” night in Galway, stick around!
Seems like I have a million things to organize, and the most urgent is my trip back to France for August.It’s annoying the mickey out of me, particularly the flight booking part.I was on the website yesterday. Dublin-Nantes, 0 euros, it said.Delighted, I clicked to book the flight.The next page said.
Flights………………………………0 euros
Taxes……………………………….55.95 euros
Very well, I thought.I knew it couldn’t be completely free.A bit bugged but still.clcked on to next page.
Are you carrying sport equipment or musical instrument ? tick box.I ticked (carrying the fiddle)
Flights………………………………0 euros
Taxes……………………………….55.95 euros
1 instrument Violin…………….60 euros
Now really peeved but no choice.clicked to next page.
Flights………………………………0 euros
Taxes……………………………….55.95 euros
1 instrument Violin…………….60 euros
Compulsory insurance…………10 euros
What ? (felt like smashing something).Click on to next page.
Select payment method (Visa/mastercard).
Flights………………………………0 euros
Taxes……………………………….55.95 euros
1 instrument Violin…………….60 euros
Compulsory insurance…………10 euros
handling credit card fees………5 euros
total………………………………….fucking zillions,you didn’t really believe it was free you eejit did you ? And thanks for booking with us!
But anyway.that’s one job done at least.Now have to manage the re-inscription to school (ten month left to study and it’s the end of it!Yay!given that I manage not to spend the year studying and not getting pissed with the expat Aussies club) and probably the inscriptions to fiddle lessons, the harp rental and the set dancing costumes, and the driving lessons.
I have a sudden rush of energy wanting to do all kind of random things, and I’m not sure where it comes from.I’m all over the place joining groups and clubs and taking lessons.
I think my lack of real roots as affected me.Being born between two countries, neither of wich feels really like “my country” ,beween to races, neither of which feels like me,has just always affected my sense of self, of where do I belong where am I meant to live with, who am I, really.
I think realising I’m reaching my mid twenties and do not have the answers to those questions is starting to bug me; and it is sending me into a frenzy of exploring new places reinventing myself as a dancer or a musician, a photograph,or a comedian..I want to try morphing into various things,until one i find the shape that suits me.
As usual,I named my post after a song(from Hairspray),and here’s the youtube video. (the song will remind Noelle of some memories…I can very clearly see the flat in Magenta, and the view from the window, of that chain of mountains that has blossomed in the sea,whenever I hear this song)
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moya84