May 17 2009
Cork
I have my own room here in Cork (Shelia’s Hostel) The other girls are sharing in a larger room. Before the night ends though there will be three of us tucked into my bunk beds. This town feels different. Skinnier streets with taller buildings than Dublin, stealing our horizon and our reference points so before the night ends we will have had three separate groups get lost and all take cabs back to the hostel. Allyson and I had a great lunch at a cafe outside with an awning therefore; when it rained we kept right on and had a 2 and 1/2 hour lunch. The check is never brought here, you must ask for it, nothing is ever rushed and this may effect my internal clock when I return to the states, forewarn given. Our lunch consisted of a shared italian pizza and a bottle of water. Water is something I drink often here: at every meal, morning and night. It tastes wonderful and coming from Tennessee where the tap water is drinkable, Irish tap water taste like bottled water. So a glass bottle comes at every meal. Soda? Who is soda? Our dessert becomes a latte and so much humor we are laughing with side splitting pain. Allyson and I understand each other. We can be quiet and reflecting in each other’s presence or we can be giving each other one- ups being more entertained than any electronic device could attempt. We understand the blunt yet subversive humor that banters off our heads without effort. We have achieved this so well that we have an entire book of one liners. All we have to do is re-read them and we are taken again to a memory of relinquished laughter. We have a deputation of us now that seem to enjoy this odd humor birthed out of long hours without REM sleep.
Later that night we disperse into small groups for dinner, again remember a herd of Americans converging on a small resturant on the side streets of Cork is just “Obnoxious”. We find the service here is even more pleasant when eating a meal but otherwise there is a feeling of uppidyness in the speech, dress and looks from the Corkians(my own word). Later we all meet at a pub called Clancys where a U2 coverband is getting warmed up, a one hour OCD tinkering by the guitarist. I was more than ready when they started, feeling I had been teased to the point of pain. In the days of Ipods I have not heard U2’s songs at this decibel in my life. This is the decibel where audible conversation, even when lips are touching ears, is impossible. For three hours our knees bounced, heads nodded while our minds disappeared into self reflection that comes only in extreme silence or extreme noise. Alone in the crowd, I disappeared into a time when U2 sang these old songs. Remembering them on the radio, driving back in the states on the long highways from Tennessee to Florida. Allyson and Emmy and I agreed we would leave once we heard “With or Without you”. It happened about midnight and so went home full of thoughts, sounds and visions that would dance in our head all night.