dawesberry adventures

The Smell

maurajeanie — Sun, 27 Aug 2006 12:20:00 GMT

The Smell Oh, jeez! There was this smell. It started happening one day in Kerry. Mid day, hot day, we were driving on the ring of Kerry, I think. We reached a really steep bit, and we smelled a smell through the front dash air vents. At the same time, the van was struggling to get up the incline, and Steve noticed that the gauge for the enginewas showing that it was really heating up. So we stopped climbing and parked there for 15 minutes, letting the engine cool. The smell had not persisted. But we were wondering what it had been. It did smell a-kin to a heated/burnt rubber or plastic something like a belt. But not quite. So we drove on. And as the days passed, we smelt that smell intermittently. Here and there. We couldn’t figure the source. When on level ground we had a good look at the engine. A look and smell, that is. We found something that might be the culprit: a very small pooling of radiator fluid on a flat depression under the radiator hoses. Sooooooooo, the radiator is …. Overheating…. Due to aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. .. . . . . hose that isn’t clamped on properly. Yeah, that’s it. So, lets reclamp the hose and clean up all the fluid that pooled up. Then we can tell if it still leaks. Yeah. That’s probably it. But, no. The smell returned. And again. But not for a half a day, or a whole day. But there didn’t seem to be a link to anything the van was doing. Well, you might remember that this great 82 campervan, VW, of course, we bought it. and the plan was to sell it because we NEED the money. So, we’re pretty serious about keeping it in really good condition, just like the owner before us did. He was an retired copper, and kept all 9 of his years of owning it on record. A log book of anything that went wrong, a new sound, etc. So, Steve kept it up as had been done before him. And it had to indlude the sleuthing of this problem. And at this time we were advertising it on ebay, so we had to tell that there was an intermittent problem with a smell, and that we think we’ve figure it out. Now, it didn’t seem to be the hose, no furthur pooling of fluid. So, maybe it was to do with………………….. the …………..uh hose that goes from the radiator to the overflow tank! Yeah, that’s it. there are some special instructions on how to get that air out, but we’ll have to have a place to do it. we’ll do that soon. Yeah, that’s it. Drive drive drive drive, there’s that smell, drive worry, think, drive drive drive drive worry. Wonder drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive smell (explitive) drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive. Well it had been going on since before we arrived at dingle and we hadn’t figured it out. We hoped it wouldn’t happen if someone was test driving it. !!! Ok well, guess what? We had to rent a car while the van was being worked on for a non-smell problem. And when we were driving to Achill, guess what we smelled??? THE SMELL! Whoa! This car has the same problem!!!!????? NO, it didn’t have the same problem. The smell was turf being burnt. It is what they burn, rather than wood, to warm their houses. It was always coming from the outside! DUHHHHHHHHH! It happens to ALL THE VEHICLES IN IRELAND. he he ho ho.

if you've read this far

maurajeanie — Sun, 27 Aug 2006 12:20:00 GMT

If you've read this far, and would like to know anything else about the trip, just leave a comment. basically, we went up to Donegal and stayed with STeve, Laoise and Caoilte, who were all delightful. I gave up playing whistle, we drove back down to the ferry, whizzed through a wee bit of northern ireland, spent the night at Glendaloch, and then another really close to the ferry, went back to englandh somerset, picked up the new owners of the van at who live on Jersey in the English channel. Had a very relaxed and loving day or so at Mark & Tara's again, took a train to Heathrow, narrowly escaped Heathrow hours before the terrorist thingy went into effect. Took separate flights back. Robyn picked me up. Joe picked Steve up. etc. I don't think anyone is reading this so I'll say FART!!! xoxox m

what didn't happen in Galway

maurajeanie — Sun, 27 Aug 2006 12:11:00 GMT

Well, here was the difficult week. You knew all this la dee dah couldn’t go on forever, didn’t you? Well, actually, I’m not going to tell you what happened here, really. Maybe someday, when its not as touchy. Then, you can say, what WAS it that happened in Galway??? And I’ll tell you in person. Here are some of the things that occurred: Van trouble; Bad mean mechanic, with bedraggled pathetic Polish immigrant worker; Good mechanic that was soooooo helpful, gallant, clever. Yeah!!! - he is John Knightly in County Kerry. Don’t miss his dad’s Engine Museum, just look for all the VW’s near Fieries on the way to the Kerry Airport from Dingle; Much festivity in Galway except for Steve and I. Not a great place to drive at this time of the year if you are in any kind of a hurry; Good place to be a tourist at this time of year; Excellent support from all Irish friends! Wow! Beautifully friendly people; BUDGET rental cars are a rip off!!!! We got so screwed at Budget in Galway; Beautiful country! Coonamarra; Another champ, Matt Keane, one of our heros in Galway; Me, wanting NOT to be IN GALWAY. I didn’t even want to say the name of it, I called it “the G place”. Just bad luck for us. Only a few bad apples, there were multitudes of good folk. Thanks, Sharon Shannon, Galway girl; enuf

Big Gig!!

maurajeanie — Fri, 25 Aug 2006 15:20:00 GMT

Well, Jim appeared at the door that we walked into, miraculously,cuz this place was huge with so many environments, how did it happen that he met us upon arrival? Anyway, he was keen to hang out with us a bit, but we were in a hurry to eat before the gig, and thought best to go back out to a fast pizza chain that will remain unnamed, to get that quick bite, so he came with us. He was keen to see the van, with its recently posted “for sale” sign. So we caught up with him in this fashion, quickly scarfing down the pizza and then rushing off to the gig. We managed, somehow, to find stools and plant ourselves front and center, with about 8 feet of dance space between us and the stars! There would be a standard rock band set up, including sax, then trad set up for 4 in front. It was top top music from the start. Sharon is a virtuoso on box accordion and is one of the biggest names in Irish music. Seriously. It was so good, and so dance-able, that I really wanted to bust on to the dancefloor, but those damn cameras. NO ONE was dancing! It was so making toes itch, but no one, including me, wanted to risk being the first dancer, recorded for posterity on dvd! Ha! There were about 7 cameras. Honestly, I felt on the spot as an audience member! I really grew tired of it after a while, I felt phoney, like I couldn’t show tired-ness or disinterest, not that I was disinterested, but the cameras! The cameras! The concert just got better and better. Jim was excellent as usual, and he is looking good, too. Sharon really pissed me off when she put down the accordion and picked up a whistle and played it better than I’ll ever be able to. She always looks so happy, and she’s so down to earth. Really. A delight to be in the presence of. They had a bit of a break and then during the 2nd half, she started coming out with these special guests. It was incredible. She’d start talking about the person who would come out next, naming their instrument or forte, and as soon as she said where they were from, the audience would go wild with cheering, all knowing well who would come out… whether or not they were advertised to be at this gig. I felt like I was at the biggest little event in Ireland. The stars just kept coming out, thrilling the audience, be it an old man fiddler whose every song was easily recognised and sung by EVERYone in the audience, or a young pop star. Wow. It was incredible being in the room. But it still took ages for anyone to break onto the dance floor. Sharon had to chide us for not dancing… “we decided to record the dvd here because when we played here last month, it was pumping with the mad dancing…you all are FIRED! You’re no good!” and still it took til 4 songs to the end, and the biggest pop star with the whole audience jumping and singing along for the dancefloor to be occupied, and then it was flooded. My favorite of the special guests was Declan O’Roarke and here is a link to listen to the song he sang that night, http://www.declanorourke.com/music.php its called 'Galileo (someone like you)' It is such a beautiful song and his voice, mmmm mmm mmm!!! It was a great night, even though the cameras were difficult, and at least they had another night of recording, and I heard that the audience were mad dancers! Jim came right off stage to take us upstairs to the party, or whatever you call it after the gig at the venue. There was lots to drink, and Jim made sure we were drinking, and chatting away before he disappeared to get out of his sweaty clothes and have a shower. What a sweetie. It was a room full of charming folks, superstars right before my eyes. Sharon is so real. She’s genuine, she’s gorgeous, she mesmorizes with her playing, and fills the stage and the backstage with joy. Very loved, she is. We stumbled back to the inn and had each a bed! Ahhh!

limerick dilemna

maurajeanie — Fri, 25 Aug 2006 15:16:00 GMT

I woke up that morning suddenly realizing that toMORROW was Monday, July 24. THE Monday, July 24th. The mondayjuly24th that was the start of the Achill Island Summer School, where I could be placed in a whistle class for the level that I am at! Maybe I’d be surrounded by small children, but I’d be learning something! Or, I could take any number of classes - set dance classes! Shit! We were a good way off and wanted to see some sights, so would have to scoot through them if we were to make it to Achill. And I’d have to convince Steve that he wants to go to the Achill island thing. HA! As if he’d want to go there, he’s too advanced a player. But, he knew that I was feeling down about my musical experience so far. He was getting lots of playing, but we were always steered towards situations where he would find players that matched his availability, and I was left lacking. Not that I don’t appreciate the good music. Its just that I’d hoped for some playing/learning myself. Not only all that, but if we were going to make it to Achill, we couldn’t go to Jim’s gig tonight! I thought of all of this as I broke it to Steve, who hardly knew what I’d been hoping about the Achill experience. AND there was meeting Isuelt there. She’d said that she’d be there that week. I have to admit that this was one of the more dramatic moments of the trip. And well, yes, maybe I did get out of the van and start walking. Drama queen. I had to go on the internet back in Ennis to determine if I could sign up for the classes late, and there just wasn’t much info there, not even a phone number. It seemed like you sign up for the whole thing in the beginning. So, I decided to give in. Part of my didn’t want to let Jim down… we’d missed him in Cork, and then he was sick and never came to Dingle while we were there as was thought. He’d invited us, and it seemed rude to turn it down. Well, it was probably a school for little kids anyway. So we went to Limerick and treated ourselves to a HOTEL ROOM! With SHOWERS! And a BED! We were only walking distance from Dolan’s where the gig would be. Ahhhh!

To Ennis

maurajeanie — Fri, 25 Aug 2006 15:13:00 GMT

Farewelling Seamus wasn’t very easy. I’d had a good time in Dingle, and loved being around the old language, not sure that we’d have such a music filled time as we’d had there. Plus, I reckon we’d had such gorgeous weather (one day being the hottest in 10 years, and beautiful locals), genaology trails (or trials), great family accommodation, small town feel. But we were surely thinking that we must make our way up the coast in order to visit Steve Cooney, who I’m sure, is my Steve’s main draw to Ireland. So, we drove out of Dingle, with Maire & Mauve Begley, catching a lift in our campervan to the Kerry airport. At the airport, because we were so running very late, we were attempting to drop them off quickly, and as we said goodbye to them outside of the van. Steve thought he saw Maire throw a small bit of rubbish into the driver’s area, and when he asked if that’s what she did, she quickly said goodbye, and darted off. It was a wadded up 20euro note! So silly, cuz we just spent a week at their place, and we weren’t going out of our way to drive them to the airport! Well, at least we learned a new trick for leaving money with people. So, we drive to Ennis and arrive in time to see some shops before closing time. Steve has texted Cooney to find out if there are any excellent sessions to be found. Awaiting an answer…. Ennis seems like a sweet sized city. I thought I might like it here. Our plan would be to stay the night nearby, but to sort of backtrack to Limerick for the next night, because Jim Murray had invited us to Sharon Shannon’s concert (being filmed and recorded for DVD). So, we thought we’d get a bite, rather than cooking in the van in the parking lot. However, all the afternoon places were closing. So we consulted our guidebook, and found that there should be a good cheap place to eat at a nearby location, but it wasn’t very fruitful, so we bought some groceries and got a good - though hungry -glimpse of the town. I still liked it. I think we decided just to have Guinness for dinner. Making a meal was too much at the moment. So, we went to the pub that Cooney had texted us to go to. It was sweet inside. But we were too early. Steve sat down at the door where the muso’s reserved place. Here, insert 1 hour of separation which we will dwell no furthur on. I did, in my separate experience, walk the town in search of an internet café and found a good one that we would spend more time at on our new daily task, selling the van. Anyway, when I returned, a full session was happening and it was pumping. The musicians were always kept well full of their drink of choice, no matter how many musicians there were. I can’t say the same thing happens in Australia. This was a delightful session. There was a lady sitting next to Steve, but she understood that she was in my place and she and I had some good chatting for the rest of the night. Her husband was a geneaologist and he gave me all kinds of info about any of the family names that I gave him, where in Ireland they originated, plus useful sites on the internet. That got me excited about doing some further family tree exploring. Steve didn’t really play much, it didn’t seem like it was going over quite well. Well, guitar isn’t really welcomed on the irish scene (unless you are Steve Cooney), and this night was no exception. It was great to just listen. There was an excellent whistler there and I was so glad that steve had brought the minidisc and was recording the tunes. I might be able to learn some of the tunes! Like, slowly, in the future. The Bawdy Ladies Room. Well, this was interesting. Different customs. Okay. I went to pee but when I went to the ladies room, I discovered a very small area with a sink, and two stalls, both occupied. There was already a woman waiting for these two, so I opted to wait outside, as there didn’t seem enough room and, heck, I thought a bit of privacy would be polite. (remember the “etiquette bell” in korean airport? Well, I didn’t stand RIGHT at the entrance, because then I would have been looking at the men going in and out of the men’s room, so I waited nearby. Well, two women walked right past me and into the ladies room. Hmph. Ok, the custom is different, obviously. One woman leaves. So, I stand closer, and dare to risk having to look at the men going in their room. Surely this is close enough, and the room is stuffed with women already. But, no! another woman walks right by me, into the ladies room. Thankfully, she pokes her head out and asks if I am waiting, I say that it doesn’t matter (I’m busting!!!), and then she insists that I go ahead. I go in. Two stalls open! And I get one. At the same time, another of the waiting ladies goes into the other stall, and another lady leaves the room (I can hear all this). As soon as that lady left, the one on the stall that she vacated, says, “oh, my, the SEAT is hot! She must’ve been on it for ages!!! Ha ha ha!” , the others laughing, the lady that insisted that I go ahead announces how busting she is, then I am done, open the door and she thanks me for being so quick and everybody has another giggle. So, I would say that irish ladies room’s are more bawdy than Korean, or even, Australian! We found somewhere towards Limerick to sleep.

Gallery: marlz camera -

maurajeanie — Sun, 20 Aug 2006 16:13:00 GMT

Gallery: irish part 2

maurajeanie — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 15:34:00 GMT

The Ashe Family

maurajeanie — Sun, 13 Aug 2006 12:24:00 GMT

The Ashe Family Ok, so someone in my mom’s branch of the Kennedy Family made a very detailed family tree that shows the Family tree back to the late 1800’s to when many branches of the family had immigrated to the US from Ireland. My mom, Janetta, went to Ireland a few years ago and showed me a photo from Dingle of a pub that belongs to some of those distant rellies. So, I thought I’d check out my roots and I went into that pub and they said, “well, if you are related to Thomas Ashe, the Patriot, then you are related to us”, but they couldn’t tell me much more because actually they weren’t Ashes but recently married into, or employed by the Ashes. She suggested I go to the local library for more info. Which I did the next day. At the library, I asked for help with finding birth records or death records, explaining that I was trying to find my family roots. The librarian sent me to the hospital, so I walked there, near the end of the day, where they said that the records person wasn’ t there, but would be tomorrow. So back there the next day, the very friendly woman said that they didn’t have any records quite that far back(1850), that I’d have better luck talking to the church people. But she did ask what family name I was looking for and when I said Ashe, she said, oh ,that I looked so much like an Ashe (as if!) and then gave me some clues about that family, which part of Dingle they were settled in. She also said that the family would have used the same names over and over, so if there were an uncle Mathew Ashe, then there would be nephews named after him. So, on the tree that Janetta gave me, my guide, I looked at the names of the Ashe men; there was Mathew (my great great grandfather) and his brothers Gregory and Thomas., and their father was Mathew Ashe. So, I was like, ‘YES! these ARE my relatives!” So, at the library, I asked for a book about Thomas Ashe in English. I was reading about this famous patriot of Ireland, fighting the oppressive rule of the English in the early part of last century, my relative! The next spare chunk of time, I MADE Steve drive us out to Kinard (Can Aird) in order to see the memorial at his gravesite and to experience the land that my family came from. This led to all sorts of fantasizing about strolling the fields, digging turf, shepherding, speaking the native tongue, all the things that MIGHT have been had Mathew Ashe not emigrated. (yeah, I know there were lots of other emigrators, but I was enjoying feeling a land connection that was many centuries older than the American connection). Anyway, I went again to the library, and discovered that there was a whole memorial display devoted to Thomas Ashe (this must have been what the pub lady was sending me to). There I discovered an illustrated family tree for the Ashes, which goes back a few generations further than Thomas Ashe the Patriot (TAtP), and there, sadly, I discovered that my Mathew Ashe is not a relative of TAtP! Oh well. It was a fun fantasy for a day. Apparently, dear Uncle Edwin was in Dingle some years ago, and went to the pub, and made right friends with the Ashes there, and told mom that we were indeed related, however, when Janetta pressed him for what the connection was, and if we were really related, or just shared the name, he became vague, a straight answer not forthcoming. Oh well. Still, in my reading about TAtP, there was a good deal of history that tells of the original Ashes, coming from Norman decent many many generations before, settling at kinard. I must also insert here, that one of the things Thomas was fighting against was the cultural obliteration that England was forcing on the Irish. This would include the attempt to eradicate the Irish language. Thomas Ashe is the English version of Thomáis Ághas. So, the real family name would still be used had it not been for the bloody English creating a famine on the Irish, killing so many, thus weakening their resolve to use their own language. Fortunately, they were able to maintain some other aspects of their culture - music & dance for instance! I’m sure, in a more distant way, I AM related to this whole family, Ághas of An Daingean (Dingle). Rather than defeated, I feel more inspired to research it further. I’m almost certain that I will have more luck with internet genealogical research with broadband at home and THEN go to some of the places to feel what it was like to live there. For me, it’s a great way to study history, starting with a question like, why would Mathew Ashe leave Ireland? I’m a bit ignorant of histories, but now I’ve got a better grasp of Irish history!

Dingle Days

maurajeanie — Sun, 13 Aug 2006 12:08:00 GMT

So, if you haven’t noticed, the trip is being written in hindsight, as all journals are. I’m already home, but thought I’d write about some things, in case anyone wants to know, not having a chance to get it from the horse’s mouth. We texted Seamus first, and he was there texting from the west coast, to keep on coming, there’s room for us, etc. That was lovely to know. He put us in touch with Jim, who was in Cork, but we crossed paths and missed him. Still, he reckoned he would be in dingle during the next week too, so we’d see him there. Knowing that we had a place to set up in Dingle was great, but we took the long way; hugging the peninsula south of the Dingle peninsula, County Kerry. It was beautiful, yes. Very green, I could have taken it or left it, more wanting to have music experiences than sight seeing, but we were also just enjoying the luxury of being with each other, so I went along with the long trip. Of course, I can’t stress the delight of the campervan living (for 2). Given the size of most of the scenic roads in England and Ireland, I was glad that we weren’t in a larger vehicle, though at times, I bigger bed would be welcome. But the whole campervan thing of (especially in you-won’t-be-bothered Ireland) pulling up to the spot that suits you NOT JUST bonafide tourist parks, afforded us privacy and astounding dinner, waking, anytime views. Steve and I shared a novel, too, him reading to me while I cooked or cleaned. There isn’t really that much room for two people to work in the space, but to be entertained whilst working, that’s the life! I won’t tell the name of the novel because Steve is embarrassed that he read and enjoyed it, but there is a mention of it in France pages, this would be his 2nd read of it. We didn’t have too many potatoes in Ireland, either, we ate well. So, we made it to Seamus’ one evening, maybe our third night in Ireland. He marvelled at how strange it was: seeing us in Ireland. We (re)met Maire, his wife and eventually the kids, Maeve (16), Eoin (24?), and Neil (22ish). They are an irish speaking family, only speaking english for their english speaking guests. I loved staying there and hearing the old language in full use. Also staying there was Tim Edey (box and guitar player) and his girlfriend. We just parked our van outside and used the shower, toilet inside. But actually, the old house was completely open to us, so we didn’t even have to bother them for the toilet, not that we ever felt a bother. Very gracious hosts. And fun, too. The lads, like their dad are playing box and concertina, so at about midnight (after gigs were done – dingle is hopping with music in every pub during tourist season) nearly every night, there was an additional home session. Johanes, a danish lad and neighbor, was there lots with his banjo, and even I played a few tunes on the whistle, though I really couldn’t keep up/didn’t know well any that they were playin, still it was good craic, excellent humor. We’ve got some of it recorded, both for the music and the irish language in the background. Here, too, we witnessed Seamus the working-the-land man, not just the visitor-to-Australia musician. And folks, I’m telling you, the man does work. He’s out there baling the hay and treating fly-blown sheep (yuk – do ya know what that is?), etc. Cool Caravan report: ok, the one at mark and tara’s was cool, but this one was coool in a style that I’d never imagined…. Like disco 60’s gypsy or something. I’ve tried to photograph it but it was locked, so the photo is a bit extra reflective, reflective being a key word. I know this is all so boring, but maybe someone wants to know all this. Hmm what else? Ask me something!

Gallery: with kids in England/France

maurajeanie — Wed, 9 Aug 2006 20:14:00 GMT

stuff

"you won't be bothered" :^)

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 22:40:00 GMT

Now began the honeymoon/journey for Steve and me. And whatever else: music? Dance? Drinking? Exploring? Fighting? Getting along? Selling our van? Sessions? Connecting with friends? First off, was a feed, and we found a beautiful river spot. I listened to the radio as I prepared my first meal in the van. Prior to this we were either in a home, or too many people in the van to really cook. The radio programme featured a NOLA musician who sang a song about The Black Line (or something like that), the oily mark, seen all around New Orleans which marks all the buildings where or the height of the flooding. His interview was good and the song is really special. Can’t remember his name. I was happy to hear it, and seemed strange to go to the other side of the planet to hear some real account of NOLA. Steve took a photo of a big boat. We had a disagreement. I think that that was one of only a few “fights” we’ve had on the whole trip which is coming to a close as I write this, which, if any of you know us in our daily lives, is fantastic!!! I guess if you take away all the stresses of daily living, we get along really well!! Back on the road, we headed for the south coast road and it was already dark when we were trying to match a mark for a caravan park with where were were. We stopped under a light in a village, looking at the map. Here pops a head of a man in my window, keen to help us. “Can I help you find something?!”, ah, we’re looking for a place to park for the night, seems like there is a caravan park somewhere around here, or maybe something along the coast”? He told us that we’d find a beautiful place just up the road on the coast, 5km in the next town. “you won’t be bothered”, he reassured us. And that’s one of the beautiful things about ireland, you won’t be bothered if you pull up anywhere and camp out. We have the campervan, and we can legally and without fear of the repercussions of trespassing, sit down, make camp, and stay for months if we wish. You won’t be bothered. You can see full gypsy (modern) caravan settlements parked for ages along the side of major roads, their laundry strung between streetlights. Terrific! We’ve had so many beautiful nights and mornings in sweet private locations in ireland, love the campervaning in Ireland!!!

Marley left

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 22:34:00 GMT

We stayed at Helen’s again , this time I was in much better form, no jet lag and really enjoyed her company. Marley’s flight was the next day, so we left pretty early for Heathrow. I drove the van for the first time as Steve helped marley in the airport. And we got together with him while his 2 hours passed. During the wait time, our hangout area, 1km from the terminal was full of watchers. I don’t know what they call themselves, but they make a hobby of watching jets take off and land. When we finally said goodbye to Marlz, I tried to be meaningful about it, but he laughed. He’s a great chap. So, that brings us to hang another few days with the Robson clan and to say goodbye to Megan. She would stay for another week there, and make her way back to oz on her own!!! I spent some time fretting over that, but she was well cued up by the Robson’s and cluey enough on her own, she made it back fine and word is good from houseminder, James, she’s “considerate, polite, accommodating, and no fuss”. She has own her own, secured a job at the coolest café in Mullumbimby: Lulu’s. She probably had to bite the bullet and give up her heavy party schedule on Friday nights, because they’d surely need her on Saturdays. Good onya, Megs! Cal and Karen were there, again, and had a wee bit more time with them, but not much. Karen is English and the two were able to get married in England, Cal being a woman, they can’t get married in Australia. Yay for them. Sweet women! The ferry was a 5 hour drive away, considered by the locals to be a long journey, but living in Australia, seems like nothing. So, off we go. Now this ferry: WOW! It was 9 decks tall with all kinds of entertainment especially to keep the kids occupied. Many restaurants and viewing platforms. We sat in the top indoor comfy area, playing cards, listening to the accents we were about to be surrounded by. There was a lady sleeping, with her sandal off. A little boy snuck over, under the furniture, and placed a stack of coins on her sandal, can anyone tell me what that’s about? I beat steve, soundly and have claimed my prize….!! As we traveled at a good speed, we saw, several times, small pods of dolphins, heading for and alongside the boat, it was brilliant seeing them from the height we were at, AND at the speed that they were swimming, fantastic!

Paris

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 22:32:00 GMT

Paris We drove the van back to Liseux and parked it at the train station for the trip to Paris. We had a few hours before the departure so we explored the nearby cathedral in honour of St. Therese of Lisieux. It was beautiful. We were enjoying ourselves and this time together. Paris was only 2 or 3 hours away. We stumbled around with our French, Steve being very brave, Megan a close second. He did all the ticket purchasing and we figured the snobbiness of the French was all depending on whether you attempted French on first contact. Without fail, the people that we tried English on right off, scoffed at us, while if we attempted French, they were always quite kind. It was kind of exciting mixed with trying, getting to our hostel. Once we got there, we found that they’d given our room up when we didn’t show up. So we found one in a hotel closeby, and switched back to 2 available rooms in the hostel for the second night. And guess what country ended up in the final for the World Cup? That’s right, we were in france to watch the french play in the final. That was the main attraction for that day. It was a sunday, and Megan and I were looking at all the shops that would be open the next day, anticipating a day of shopping! My hopes were high, too, that I would have ample opportunity to have a decent croissant while here! The Cup match with thought we’d like to watch with lots of French people. Steve was hoping for a large outdoor screen, but we didn’t really get dinner in time to make it to that, so we had to choose from the local brassieries (spelling?). As it turned out, we stepped into a packed bar/restaurant/disco and enjoyed an exciting first half hour with excited fans. The french had their most rewarding plays in this period and it was so fun to be in the crowd. The dj was poised to pump out the right song at the right moment, and we found ourselves in a sea of jubulant singing fans. However, the smoke was too much, cigarettes everywhere, and I was the first out, given the condition of my throat (this night set my recovery way back). Megan’s high heels were too much for her to stand around in much longer, so she and i opted to go back to the hotel room and watch the game there. Steve chucked a tantrum/guilt trip, but in the end we all enjoyed watching the game from our room. The game was a big controversy with the star French player doing something outrageous in the end. They lost. We spent the next few days until we got to the land of English, to get the scoop, as we couldn’t understand the french tv or papers. Zizou! Why did you do it?? So, I forced everyone to get up early for sightseeing (I’m the only early bird of the lot of us) and enjoying the city before the heat really picked up. So the 4 of us enjoyed early pastries (ah! The french!) and metro (oh, what a transport system!) our walk to Notre Dame on which we passed a movie being shot, a tv episode being shot, and a fashion photo thingy being shot. Picturesque. Megan tried to maim Marley for life by doing the old see saw dump at Notre Dame, we have it on video. Actually, after her shock (and laughter) I realized that she’d grown up without getting to learn the basics of see saw etiquette. Our American and Aussie kids are deprived of the basics in playground equipment because of greedy lawsuit hungry capitalists. Anyway, he wasn’t too injured, just surprised. Notre Dame, Picasso museum. Well, I wasn’t interested in the Louvre because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to really enjoy very much of it, and I wanted to spend some time with Megan where she’s happiest – shopping! Steve and Marley were very keen to do the Louvre, as they’d both just read The DaVinci Code, which is packed with references about the Louvre. So, we split up. I had a delightful day with Megs, mostly window shopping and enjoying Paris. I loved it there, except for the huge amount of cigarette butts going into the drains, it was good fun. That night, our last in France/Paris, we decided to have wine and cheese and bread at the eiffel tower. We had to buy every part of that, the glasses, the bottle opener, the knife. It was a brilliant decision. roves of people decided to do the same thing, including locals, the grass was soft, the weather perfect for night time hanging out. We’d leave the next day back to Lisieux and onto the ferry to England.

french country family experience

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 22:28:00 GMT

When we arrived, it was only Ling’s immediate family, and her parents, Marie Reine and Gilles. Oh, and two young nephews, Danilo and Marco. I’d pictured what this place would be like, in my head for years, because the Fairfax family had spent so many long summers there, reportedly with many other siblings and hordes of neices & nephews. Apparently we’d made it before the onslaught. The next day, Danilo’s mother, Margo, younger sister, and older brother would arrive. Our instructions to the house were to turn onto a specific driveway (well out in the country), pass the house with a trout sign and some barking dogs. True to the directions, we saw the trout, and directly to its right was a barking dog… well done, Ling! Still uncertain that we were in the right place, we curled up the drive and hoped that it was right place because if it wasn’t, we’d be embarrassed to try to explain ourselves at the front door in english or pathetic french. Anyway, if the gorgeous skirts hanging out the upper window werent a sure sign of Ling, soon Corwin and Rayna popped their heads out of another window, and soon were down to greet us. They’re both gorgeous young adults, always a treasure to be with. Ling and Mark, also came out, and Marie Reine was delighted to struggle through English and invite us to have lunch with them. Thus began our days of meals! Its just one meal after another and luxuriant time spent on each course. It was fantastic. I loved seeing my old friends alive in their other life, fluent French speakers. Seeing Marie Reine in her home, meeting Gilles again. It was all very funny, especially if you spoke French. Thankfully, Mark took me under his wing and not only translated, but having figured out the family nuances himself over the years, let me in on layers of what was going on in the family. It was a challenge for us aussies. The communication barrier was apparent. I saw Marley loose faith on the first day, maybe giving up on having a good time, but by the second day, he found a new resilience for it and seemed to enjoy himself. Megan ended up spending a lot of time with the young girl, as Rayna wasn’t feeling 100%, though they did spend some time together. R&C took us on a walk to see the village. The most memorable thing being when the church lady’s dog attacked our wonderful dog, biting Rayna in the process. Not much to that village. Ling know’s me well, and knew that I’d want to get busy and do something, besides, everyone has a job there cuz of the importance of mealtime, there is always something to do. So, Ling and I worked on curtains! Yes, our favorite job together! We laughed at ourselves muchly remembering other infamous curtain adventures together. We boldly claim our company now is international, and what you get is what you get, no guarantees on anything! We love our curtains, though and we love spending time together that way. I woke up the second day and went into the house (I’d been suffering since before we left somerset with a cough which made for disgusting routines of phlegm expectorating in the mornings, best done in the bathroom, which unfortunately my camper situation doesn’t accommodate). Anyway after emmerging from the toilet, I sat down with the other early birds, Marie Reine, Gilles, Mark & Ling. Mark was my translator, and they all tried to include me, though you couldn’t expect them to accommodate the conversation to me. At one point, Mark offered to Gilles that I was from Louisiana. Gilles spoke no English whatsoever, but from his higly animated hot and bothered reaction and hearing the name Napoleon, I had a good guess he wasn’t too impressed with the decision to let that land go for such a ridiculous low price. They don’t think much of Napoleon. Marie Reine was a treat. I don’t know if she is always so animated, but she was for us. I think that she wanted to communicate but found it easier to pantomime than speak. Megan and Marley watched her dance an expression of joy when the living room was finally finished being painted. Mealtimes were long and never ending fun. I only wish I spoke French because Corwin is obviously very funny and I was missing it all! Gilles heard that I was so excited to be in the land of fine cheeses, so he made sure that the cheese platter was very well stocked. I like the cheese platter idea. Woe is me for the state of cheeses in Australia. I could go on and on, but suffice to say that we all enjoyed this little bit of France very much.

driving into France

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 22:26:00 GMT

So, we left Somerset for France! We drove to Dover to catch a ferry to a nearby French port. It wasn’t very thrilling. The weather was quite grey. We arrived in the evening, and drove less than an hour til we were hungry. It was already after 9, so finding food was going to be a challenge, especially not speaking the language. We’d been listening to a French language course as we were driving, and Megan and Steve were getting the hang of it. Steve was much braver, and found that indeed, this pizza place was open and ordered us some dinner. We were starving and had nothing in our fridge. Although there are 4 berths in the camper, it doesn’t really provide the space for cooking with us all in there. So, glad we were to find some food. We decided to eat in, bringing the 15 minute French boook with. We ate. Twas good. No-one spoke English to us! Finally, on foreign land!! Megan and I were practicing our pronounciation, not really loud or anything… then realized that the girl cracking up at the nearby table was probably laughing at us. Hmph! Well, couldn’t blame her really, we realized that the phrase we were practicing translates, “I can’t speak french”. We said it poorly, over and over, yes, it would have been funny. We drove a bit further, but pulled over at a rest area and made that home for the night. Our first night with all of us filling the 4 berths. Not recommended, but it did in a pinch. A bit clostro up top. In the morning we drove the rest of the way to the chateau of the Gohin family. Ling Shien’s family’s house.

lost boy in glastonbury

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 22:22:00 GMT

Mark & Tara’s place in Bruton is pretty close to Glastonbury, so we made a day trip there to climb the Tor. We drove the van there, with Tahli (+my family of 4), meeting Ella there after school, and Mark who was working nearby. We had some cranky moments in the van, finding parking and deciding what to do in Glast while we met up with Ella and Mark – the usual fare with trying to please so many folks at once. Marley didn’t even want to go but he wasn’t given a choice, Gem protested to stay home and wasn’t challenged by Tara who feels the threat of him going to live with his Dad looming. Before we went up, we had lunch in the town. Its got this abbey where Henry the 8th massacred the members of the monastery, as Mark explained. Mark found a copy of nifty history book, written for teenagers (and me), about the life and kingdom of Henry VIII, “Henry VIII, The Exploding King” – euw, gross!. We ended up reading this (maybe Meg didn’t finish it) together, and I found it most enlightening, not really knowing anything about european history except maybe bits of worldwars. Now I know what all the references to him are about. Mark took us up to the beginning of the path to the Tor, stopping to show is the water sources of the white water (full of calcium?) and the red water (full of iron). Both tasted awful. There was a weird building that this water was flowing through, in channels dug in the floor. Really, I didn’t get it, it was most strange, cold, damp, dark. Why would they do this? It might’nt have been the best mo to stop there, as they were “cleaning” the building, but it seemed the method wasn’t very clean at all. Unimpressed. As soon as we started up the trail, Steve and I bringing up the rear, a young lad joined us. Weird. Steve immediately asked him all questions regarding how he got here, where he lived and where his parents were. He was dressed in school uniform, but just kept hiking along. Told us his address, that he didn’t know where his parents were. He didn’t hang out with us once we were at the tor, but as soon as he saw us leaving, he made sure he was with us. Then the kids started asking him why he was here alone. At the bottom again, he then started asking where this place was, which none of us could answer, but Ella was the cluiest, and started to take the lead in finding out where he should be. The others couldn’t be bothered and we made an arrangement to meet somewhere after Ella, Steve and I figured out what to do. In the end we walked the long and steep way back to where we’d found him. Ella was such good big person for him to be with, she took him by the hand and made conversation with him. She realized that she knew his brother, and after we returned him, we pieced together that his was probably trying to escape his neglectful/abusive father. His mom left when the boys were quite young, the brother that Ella knows is violent. The boy seemed to wish we would take him to the police, which in the end I wish I had done… maybe he was looking for some help! We probably just delivered him to his problems again. Sad.

Staying at Tara and Mark’s…

maurajeanie — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 21:53:00 GMT

We stayed in Somerset with them twice, Meg stayed on a further week before departing back to oz, and we’ll stay there again just before we finally depart europe. It’s a lovely house with endless rooms for all the great lot of folks that might happen to be staying there. There has been a good deal of restoration as well as remodeling to this 350 year old house, which makes it quite comfy for the occupants. Very homey. Steve and I parked out in the driveway, next to a very charming caravan/lounge. The cutest caravan set-up I’ve ever seen. Must take a photo. Two other houses that were all part of the same manor in years gone by had full families in them. Blackberry bushes everywhere teased me with their lack of maturity. It was a busy house wile we were there… the kids were still in school, so they were up early, all going to different schools at different times, needing dinner while the sun seemed to be saying it was late afternoon (but it was well 7pm), and then there others besides us, visiting at the same time. Marley was fully happy there, Jack and Gem were always ready to play whatever, ping pong, computer, etc. Megan had Tahli and they hung out in Tahli’s little room, dressing up as pirates in anticipation of the movie coming out, on the computer (did I mention that with resident and visitor’s laptops, there were 4 to 7 of them there depending on the day?? Benjamin was the youngest, 7, I think. He is a brilliant creative kid who was probably a bit frustrated at times that he didn’t have someone his age to play with, but that wasn’t huge deal. Jack still hung with him…Jack is such a consciencious person, and has full interest in music. Steve had a session or two with him because he’s most interested in guitar, and his talent is clear. Tahli is Tahli (Mark’s daughter who lives mostly in oz with us) playful, cool, delightful and loves my Megan. Although they there was a mattress that megan could have slept on, they choose to snug up on Tahli’s single mattress every night, despite Megans twitching… (lordy I hope that girl doesn’t go back into seizures). Kim was there when we got there, always a delight. Naomi was there when we left, equally delightful. Ella wasn’t much hanging with us. She was often off with friends and was still in school when we got there, but see the Glastonbury article for more on her. Gem wasn’t much into connecting with someone of my age, but Marley loved his company. It was great to see Mark at home and as dad to his 3, and Tara’s 2 (and Robyn’s other 2!?). He’s usually been a visitor when I’ve seen him in oz, but here, he’s at home; working (flexible) days, husband, man of the house, and father to young boys. Very sweet. Tara is the queen of this house, for sure. She runs a glorious, generous home, never too precious, though there was a day which was the wrong day to spill the cream into the cracks on the kitchen floor but she didn’t find out about that until now, if at all. She’s vivacious and nurturing and full of good humour. It was a good time there, and although we doubted that we’d be seeing them before we went back to oz, Tara playfully insisted that it was just a hop and skip away from the A303, and wouldn’t we just stop in for tea when we brought back the coffee plunger that she gave to us!! He he he!

Gallery: irish stuff

maurajeanie — Tue, 25 Jul 2006 00:16:00 GMT

irish stuff

grrrrrrrrrrr! lost writing

maurajeanie — Mon, 24 Jul 2006 23:57:00 GMT

i just spent over an hour writing about the amazing might i had on the guest list at Sharon Shannon's concert last night. and the stupid settings on this site made me lose the inspired writing! don't ya just hate that????

the short story

Sharon Shannon's guitarist, Jim Murray, is our friend from his touring in Australia, as well as Steve's earlier trips to Ireland. The dear invited us to this gig, which was being filmed for a dvd of her most recent tour. 8 piece, with electric ensemble to kick up the energy tastefully through-out. Sharon is a down to earth virtuoso, goddess. She had fantastic special guests, that i didn't know, but the rest of the audience sure did.

please go to declan o'rourke's website and listen to 'Galileo', to see what makes me have goosebumps and tears.

this is a very dry version of such an beautiful fun night. i'm still a bit angry about the loss... more later

golly gosh

maurajeanie — Sun, 23 Jul 2006 01:38:00 GMT

dag nabbit, i just haven't had much time on computers, which is a good thing, but not good because the things just keep happening and there becomes no way i could tell ya about it all.

as i type, megan is hopefully onboard her final flight from korea to brisbane and will then take a train to meet her ride from the last stop. I haven't really been resting well, not really really really 100% sure she made it to all destinations. but she's been good so far at getting her self around. only 16 years old!!

Steve and i are trying to get our van well listed for sale. we're now hoping that we can sell in Ireland, fly back to england near our departures from heathrow. we'll see.

Its been terrific to be in Ireland. Steve is playing lots of music, and we can go anywhere with the van. nobody minds having us in their driveway or paddock cuz we're pretty self sufficient. We've been at seamus and maire begleys all this time, but left yesterday. now in Ennis and tomorrow to Limerick for a big concert. Steve has all the connections: tomorrow we're on the door list for Sharon Shannon while they're filming their DVD. She's got a huge crew/band, it ought to be a hoot. thats the connection with Jim Murray, her guitarist. I haven't been playing as much as i had hoped, because i don't feel at all on the level with the people i am around. they've been playing all their lives, so i'm like a 4 or 5 year old. I may go to a week of summerschool, for the whistle (and maybe some dance!) at achill island (where i'll meet iseult) and there will be students of my level (4 year olds). or maybe i'm in a class by m'sef? this remains to be seen.

we're looking forward to being in Donegal with Steve Cooney. more on that later.

I've been staying in Gaeltecht regions, where Irish is the main language. of course, i'm inspired to learn it, or at least while i'm here, to pronounce it correctly. the begley's are really something like the o'beachlichs, speaking irish amongst themselves and english for our sake. I thought i was from Dingle, by way of the ashes, but the proof remains to be seen. maybe on my next trip to dingle, which i am sure will come.

bye for now, m

353 86 225 8726

maurajeanie — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 19:56:00 GMT

thats my phone number here if anyone wants to ring me. the first bit is the ireland country code. if calling from ireland... 086 225 8726 all is good but not a lot of internet time. :^]

Meeting up with Jen

maurajeanie — Fri, 14 Jul 2006 16:32:00 GMT

back in the early stages of this trip, i thought that I'd actually hang out with Jen and Mark (fairfax friends tho jen is from Wales). But as it neared, we realized that we'd be lucky to ring each other while on the same continent (or island). So, as it turned out, after some calls to each other's mobiles, they could come to Mark & Tara's in Somerset, for a cup of tea, or an overnight, literally. So thats what happened. After midnight, they found their way to our vicinity and Mark (robson) guided them through the last bit, which is so confusing, i still can't find my way, especially in the dark, as there are 25 different approaches, even though I've been there 10 times. So, the poor dears made it and parked near the house, like we were. They had a van that had lots of comfort, but it was so wide, and it was quite stressful driving on the narrow roads of england. They were fried when they got there, but we had a ciggie and a cuppa, and we went to sleep. they were gonna leave at 9 am. I didn't really want to see them go, so I opted to go with them and take a train or bus back! So, we went to STonehenge, but this time I went in, Mark treated me. It was a misty day, great for standing stone touring. Jen lost something here when she was a teenager and it wasn't blocked by fences. We had a look for it. Then we went to a much less famous standing stone place, like a whole village (Avebury). We spend a couple of hours checking it out, really it was lovely, just wandering on the misty fields, approaching a standing stone every 25m or so. It was very relaxed and quite better than waving them off from Somerset. We found a very magical tree, but my photos of it didn't really come out, too fuzzy. I loved it the best of all the places in England. its roots were alive with moss, and being under it was like being in a world unto itself. It was quite an adventure getting me to a train. the day had passed without us realizing and it just wasn't as straightforward as I had hoped or we'd been steered to believe. It was a big stress, really, but in the end, I was on a train and I hope they weren't too late for their dinner engagement!

Gallery: sights and Somerset

maurajeanie — Tue, 4 Jul 2006 19:57:00 GMT

in Somerset

maurajeanie — Tue, 4 Jul 2006 19:10:00 GMT

Forest Row was sweet, tho i was ready to go by the time we left. Then getting onto the motorway with the weekend traffic made me want to go back. Still, i had faith that the rest of England wasn't going to be like the motorway. it was hot (though not hot like Australia hot or Louisiana hot or California hot) so of course driving was not that pleasant. getting used to the sound of the van was a bit difficult, it seems like we shouldn't be working the engine so hard, traveling at such a speed, the revs seemed to high! :^o Steve suggested that i get used to it. We got to see Stonehenge, but its surrounded by a fence and we didn't want to pay to get in, so we didn't. I think I'll appreciate less well known nearby rock formations. Still, Stonehenge rocks have been there for, like, 5000 years!!!! Its great to be amongst old buildings. I was admiring all the stone work on buildings as we got closer and closer to Mark and Tara's. Some of the directions to their house were, "turn left at old pub", "after stone gate", "first drive after bridge". all these places are grand and old and solid in history. The stone gate - we HAD to stop at it. It reminded me of what chess pieces are modeled after. The house here, is called the Manor House (most of the buildings here have names, not numbers for addresses. Its about 350 years old, and has the oldest tree in the village here, one with red leaves, the same age as the house. and the house, ah! I actually dream of houses like this, with room after room after room. The walls are so thick, every room so private. We're loving it. There are kids all over the place, so everyone is happy with plenty of companionship. There is a ping pong tournament going on, which I've placed out of, darnit. Its all very nice. And they are so happy to have us here. oh joy. so nice to be on holiday. and to have such lo-o-o-ong nights! I'm one who uses the rising sun as my wake-up signal, and what an adjustment it is... it is only really dark from 10:30pm to 2:30am. i had to stop myself using that ol sun to wake up by.