Dublin*

Greetings from Dublin!

We made it over here after an almost missed horrible horrible flight on Ryan Air. Ireland is an awesome country - everyone here is so smiley and happy all of the time and I'm pretty sure the fact that there is a pub on every block has something to do with it.

In the day and a half that we've been in Dublin we have done many things! Here is a brief overview:

- Guinness Brewery Tour - saw how they make the stout and learned that the main ingredients are as follows: barley, hops, water, yeast. I took good notes during the tour and am looking forward to attempting to brew my own when I get home. Afterwards, we enjoyed a fresh complementary beer at the 'Gravity Bar' at the top of the complex.

- Jameson Distillery Tour - Kenn was an official taste tester at the end of the tour, which was very interesting, especially because they gave you a few free cocktails at the end.

- Dublin Ghost Tour - Did this last night. They took us around to all sorts of creepy graveyards and we learned about the spooky side of Dublin. I'm not much of a believer in ghosts, but some of the pictures that showed up on peoples cameras were really freaky. Like half of the tour group, our camera didn't work.

- St. Patricks Cathedral - St. Patrick brought Christianity to modern day Ireland. We got to walk through the garden which was the site where St. Patrick would baptize people. The church was very pretty, and obviously very historic.

- Book of Kells - This Bible was scribed circa 800 BC. It was astonishing to see how intricate the inscriptions and drawings were given the age of this book. Also, got to check out the Long Hall in the Trinity College library which was completely breathtaking. I think that it would be breaktaking to those of you out there who aren't book nerds such as myself.

Anyway, we're off to find a pub and down a few more pints. Tomorrow its back to London and then home.

Bath*

Today, we took the train to the city of Bath, which is approximately 12 miles away from Bristol and takes exactly 12 minutes via the train. (They take the timing of trains very seriously here) I purchased our train tickets at 3:27 and somehow, by a stroke of luck, pedestrians who saw us barreling through and knew to jump out of the way, and a wee bit of frantic sprinting, we managed to make the 3:30 pm train to Bath.

After arriving in Bath at 3:42 pm exactly (again, they don't mess with the timing of the trains), we located the hotel and went to the old ruins of the Roman Baths which were built approximately 2000 years ago. The baths were really cool and it struck me how advanced the Romans were. A part of it also made me sad, because its the same old story of an overly decandant society which ultimately fell to its demise. In unrelated news, our dollars are trading about 2 to 1, which causes me a bit of mental anguish everytime I mentally double the price of something in my head.

We had both thrown our bathing suits in our bags, but apparently, you can't actually bathe in the Baths anymore. The only thing that you can do is look at them. There are even signs which caution not to stick your hands in the water, or slip on the rocks into the water, but I couldn't resist dipping my hand into the slimy green mess that was the water to see how hot it was. To be honest, the water was so warm, the stonework so pretty, and the whole area so incredably impressive, and it was so miserable and cold out, I had a very strong desire to throw on my swimsuit and languish in the steaming hot spring water.

I resisted the urge and found refuge in a pub where I had fish and chips for dinner and a nice big beer. I'm hoping the rest of the trip won't be this cold and rainy.

Stonehenge*

Yesterday, I took a tour with Mad Max out to Stonehenge. Now, various people I had met along the trip so far had less than rave reviews about Stonehenge, however I thought it was AWESOME. It was so cool to see! I mean, you can't really argue with the coolness factor of something that was constructed over 5000 years ago, now can you?

Anyway, after that, the tour bus took us through the English countryside, where I saw the actual Salsbury Hill (think Peter Gabriel), and a little village called Lacock, which is part of the English National Trust. The village has four streets and 180 people live there. As part of a living history of England, it's oftentimes used for movies - parts of Harry Potter and Sense and Sensibility were filmed there.

This afternoon we head over to Bath, then back to London, and after that to Dublin for a few days, and then its back home.

Rescued*

The year was 1992. My family was in the midst of our traditional summer vacation to Lakeside on Lake Erie. Lakeside, the exact locale of said vacation, was a quaint, remote town approximately one-half hour from the famous roller-coaster mecca of Cedar Point.

We stayed in a cottage near the Lake and when not playing a mean game of shuffleboard, the majority of our time was spent in, on, and around the water. And by “water,” I mean the water on the left side of the dock. The dock darted out about 100-yards into the Lake, and all of the children swimming about the left side of the dock were being monitored by lifeguards as well as frenzied parents.

And that’s fun for awhile. But every now and again, you need a little adventure. You need excitement. You need, well, freedom.

So, my younger sister, our two friends, and I embarked on what will be referred to as the Great Escape of 1992. We went to the local tour shop and each purchased a black innertube to set sail on (gasp!) the right side of the dock. We headed on over to the Lake and when we approached the dock, we made a sharp right turn toward the rocks. We scurried on down the rocks until we hit water and with our innertubes afloat, away we went. When we approached the end of the dock, we kept on floating. Now we were twice the length of the dock out into Lake Erie and oblivious to the speed boats flying by our preteen bodies. Yet we keep on trucking. Where, we don’t know, but one thing is for certain, nobody knew we were gone.

So we thought.

As we continued to float, a familiar boat rapidly approached us, and offered a ride back to the rocks. But what is independent about that? Besides, at the ripe age of 12, I knew better than to take a ride from strangers. Especially if it was an enormous boat full of men twice my age. Wearing nothing but swim trunks. Well, turns out the boat looked familiar because the side of it broadcasted the U.S. Coast Guard.

Well, we paddled our proud selves back to the rocks, Coast Guard en route. And the closer we came to the rocks, the more we recognized the familiar faces awaiting our arrival on the rocks. Our parents. And cousins. And aunts. And uncles. And sister. And not a one shared the same look of excitement that we exhibited. In fact, their faces revealed more of a look of fear. Of disapproval. Of “I hope you enjoyed this day because it may be your last.” We made our way up the rocks, greeted my parents, and before welcoming us back to land, my father slashed our tires.

And of our numerous family vacations throughout my 20-something years, that memory is one of the most vivid.

Fast forward to September 2007. My sisters, their husbands, and one of my best friends from college (Ece) are vacationing down in Turks and Caicos. And slowly but surely, history repeated itself. Keeping active on the beach, Ece and I had swam, snorkled, and kayaked on Day 1. But we had approached the time to venture out to Sea (the Caribbean Sea, that is) on a catamaran. And similar to my experience in 1992, my family members were keeping a close eye on me.

Only this time, with a camera. See for yourself:

Ece: Let's take an afternoon trip on the catamaran!

Me: Great idea! Have you ever been?

Ece: No, but I took sailing lessons last summer in Chicago.

Me: Besides, it seems like it's common sense. (Just like tubing in Lake Erie, no?)

Younger sis: Uh oh. Do you see what is going on down there?

Older sis: Oh no. Here we go again.

Both: HUSBANDS!

Me: Oh no. Look who they've sent for us.

Ece: Time to take it up a notch.

Both: Muh-wah-ah-ah.

And the sea was angry that day.....

And just like 1992, the rescue boat comes after us. And just like 1992, when it approached us, we calmly told him we had everything under control.

Elvis*

Okay. To say we post infrequently is an understatement. But please try to understand. We continue to set out and try to have the Best Summer Ever in the Nation's capital, but every now and again, we are required to attempt to have one in another location. And for a little while, that has been the case for me.

Where is this mysterious exotic locale I speak of?

Why, it's Memphis, Tennessee. And from the looks of it, I can report that they love three things: (1) barbecue, (2) the heat, and above all, (3) the King.

Memphis barbecue. Depending on where you go, you will find the quintessential Memphis barbecue ranging anywhere from wet ribs, made with a mild, sweet barbecue sauce that's basted on the ribs before and after smoking to dry-rub ribs, made with a spice rub applied during or right after they've been cooked to simply a pulled or chopped pork sandwich topped with sweet, finely chopped coleslaw, served on the most inexpensive hamburger bun to be found. Whatever the case, they LOVE barbecue. Even the airport limits its vendors to serving barbecue (the exception being Starbucks, of course). Did I mention that I do not eat four-legged animals? Yeah. I am one of the few people in my entire company that would not absolutely love to eat Memphis barbecue for breakfast, lunch, an afternoon snack, dinner, and I am selected to spend the next several months taking in all things pulled, basted, and smoked to perfection.

The heat. What can I say? It has been a true joy experiencing the type of weather meteorologists dream of reporting. For the past couple weeks, I have had the thrilling opportunity of stepping outside into yet another record breaking 105-110 degrees. I believe I have actually reached the point where I welcome the cool (?) DC summer.

Elvis, Mr. Presley, The King. What does Memphis like more than barbecue? Elvis. When I was told I would be travelling to Memphis, there was really one thing, or should I say man, I was excited to see. That man is the King. And this is not because I am a crazed fan, but I do realize the influence this man had on music, dancing, society, and above all, sideburns.

In case you hadn't heard, August 16, 2007 marked the 30-year anniversary of the King's death. And where was I on this monumental day? Memphis. Well, me along with countless Elvi. It was nearly impossible to get a hotel room as all rooms were booked for Elvis Week. And the moment I stepped off the plane, the fun began.

I saw "young-pre-uppers-and-downers Elvis" in a leather jacket at the baggage claim. Then, the next day at lunch, I saw "later-years-and-touring-in-Hawaii Elvis" clad in a Hawaiian shirt. Then, the following night after dinner, I was out on Beale Street, and I saw "if-he-is-indeed-alive-he-probably-looks-like-this Elvis." Only this time, not only did I see Elvis, but I was committed to taking a photo to prove to all the doubters that The King LIVES! So, he got down on one knee, I took a seat, and in all his white jumpsuit glory, I had my picture taken with him. Oh, Elvis, you're such a devil in disguise…