June 2007 Archives

Some observations from my last few days well-spent in the murky but verdant country of Ireland:

1) Irish people are short.
2) Irish people are friendlier than English people. The cab driver who took us to our hotel Friday night was pretty much the best cab driver ever, even offered to take 50p off the total price (unheard of). We also visited some distant relatives who showered us with food and conversation and let us milk a cow. But one of these relatives astutely noted, "In places like England and Germany, it's hard to find a friend, but when you find one, you're friends for life. In Ireland, everyone's happy and friendly...but once you leave, it's goodbye."
3) European tourists are just as annoying as American tourists, if not more so.
4) Dublin is full of teenagers. Advertisements everywhere announced "End Ageism" week. Apparently, the elderly feel alienated, and the young accuse the old of being too set in their ways.
5) Dublin is not nearly as fashionable as London. Not even close. But I liked that about Dublin.
6) Americans flock to Ireland because many are connected by ancestry. Last I checked, the largest ethnicity represented in America was Irish, but I could be wrong about that.
7) Americans flock to see the astounding Book of Kells because many, including me, still believe the Gospels are the Word of God.
8) Numbers six and seven were theories more than observations.
9) Guinness tastes better at the Guinness brewery.
10) The peat. Ah, the peat.

Anyone besides my sisters who can name the reference in number 10 gets some kind of prize. I'll think of something. By the way, peat is soil gathered from the bogs. I'm sure it has a magical quality to it.

No, these things are in no way related. At least as far as I'm concerned. But they've been on my mind today as I distract myself from writing a paper on public relations and public policy.

So the new Whole Foods down the street is attracting mobs and mobs of people. It's the talk of the town. I have not yet ventured in. Why would I? I like Whole Foods, but I can't justify spending money there when I don't darken its doors back home for the very same reason. The ridiculous exchange rate forces Heidi and me to take the bus to Clapham, where the very cheap, very efficient Lidl saves me about half the cost and offers me Brie for 59p. God bless wholesale pricing.

Tony Blair gave an astonishing speech yesterday, lashing out against the British media, calling them "feral beasts, just tearing people and reputations to bits." Ironically, he's largely to blame for his own complaints, given his manipulation of the media when he first took office; he admits as much at the beginning of the speech. But this speech seems to be a swan song as he will soon leave office. It won't have any real effect on his reputation, although it will be discussed for some time to come. Perhaps it's a release of anger that's been fermenting since the invasion of Iraq, when the majority of the British press opposed his decision and commenced souring their relationship. Frankly, I'm happy he used the word "feral."

Read The Guardian's synopsis of today's papers' views on the speech.

Lastly, I'm frantically finishing the fifth and sixth Harry Potter books before the seventh comes out on July 21. Everyone I know has been on the Harry Potter bandwagon except for me, until now. I'm not absolutely crazy about them, but it's good to get in the game for the final seconds. I can't wait to see the next movie here in London (July 11th!). And J.K. Rowling is doing a moonlight signing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at the Natural History Museum, which is literally down the street from our flat. I'm not going to enter the contest, but perhaps I'll go stand outside the museum at midnight - and if the moon is full, I might turn into a werewolf like Professor Lupin.

Tonight we went to a festival celebrating the re-opening of the Royal Festival Hall, that great symbol of Britain's attempt at post-WWII recovery. Did you know that food rations were still in place here until 1954? I also discovered that Ealing Studios was used after the war as the British counterpart to Hollywood, to reinstate morale in the British public and to make major (and often satirical) political statements. I'd love to see some of those old movies they produced in the 40's and 50's.

So at the festival we were entertained by a flamenco guitarist, ballroom dancers, two choirs that called to each other between a riverboat and a balcony (the music was a little underwhelming and inaccessible, mostly new-agey/native american/dissonant, although overall the sound was quite powerful and it echoed across London- we were told that the choirs' role was to "praise" the building, sort of an odd pagan ritual), Indonesian gamelans, and finally, Billy Bragg. Yes, the same Billy Bragg who champions progressive politics and who recorded with Wilco. The highlight: he did his own "punk" piece, calling himself "Johnny Clash." Actually, the song was too political for our tastes, but quite funny all the same. On Sunday night we'll go back to the hall to hear Beethoven's 9th sung by a 2000 member choir, with the lyrics rewritten by Mr. Bragg himself. Ironically, Beethoven's original lyrics would have been consistent with the paganish feel of the whole festival, so I'm not sure why they bothered to change them.

P.S. Today we also visited the UK office of the EU parliament and were given a presentation by the director of media and communications, a liaison between the two entities. Let me just say - I want that job!