80s Song of the Week - U2 "Bloody Sunday"

I've been lagging on updating my 80s Song of the Week blogs. For those who know me or have been reading my blogs, they know I love my 80s New Wave music. Well, I'm back!

When I was a teen and this song came out I always really liked it. It was back when mega-group U2 was young and raw, their music not slick and overproduced like nowadays (don't get me wrong, I still like and appreciate them). But I could feel that it was bigger than just a pop tune by its lyrics and militia-like drum rhythms and guitar riffs. But I must admit that I did not really understand what "Bloody Sunday" was. (How could anyone unless they had a specific connection to the horror of it??)

I believe we skimmed over it in a paragraph in World History in high school, but it was not until my 20s that I looked more into it. And when I started dating Patrick he showed me the movie portraying the senseless tragedy in Derry of 14 civilian deaths during a peaceful, unarmed civil rights march on January 30, 1972 - 4 months before I was born.

I think the Irish band U2, along with this particular song and video featuring parts of the movie are absolutely appropriate in my having returned from a wonderful and fascinating trip to both Occupied Ireland and the Republic. Things have come far it seems with the demilitarization of the border and absence of the British Army, but, as P's father mentioned, someone stole a car and set it on fire behind the Catholic church in their town the night before our arrival. Coincidence? An accident?

Ireland - Day 3 - The Far West, Connemara

"Go West, young man!" goes the saying...

The next morning we awoke early and left to head towards the opposite coast in the west of Ireland and then head south in a scenic coastal drive. Once again, we were lucky in regards to weather. It was a crisp, brisk, but sunny day! Perfect for a lovely drive through, arguably, some of the prettiest part of Ireland.

It was a splendid time (excepting the extremely expensive gas). With map in hand I helped guide P through the main highways and country roads that twist and turn - making a few miles seem greater because of the time it takes to drive it.

Patrick and I both agreed that even though it is beautiful in the northeastern sea coast where he is from, that we both preferred the more rustic, wild and unkempt beauty of the Far West. There still were fields, but it was all much different. They were larger but more sparse - mostly as part of a ranch - and filled with sheep or cows. There were also hillsides here that were different, trees were scarce and vegetation was different than the north - with massive plants of rhubarb growing as tall as me right along the roads.

As we headed towards Connemara things got even more barren. Evidently, many natives here left to London and Boston, USA as it is very poor and hard to eke out a living. Land here is made up of many lakes of all sizes, marshland and mountains in the distance. There are no green, lush fields with grazing livestock here - but, rather, fields of peat - which is the earth cut into rectangles and used to burn when cold. Please forgive that we jumped out and gathered 2 blocks of it for P's parents as they love to burn it as firewood in the winter as it emits a pleasant, earthy smell.

** NOTE - I highly recommend the excellent and tragic period Irish film, "The Field" - which took place in this country and was filmed here.**

We soon found ourselves on an incredible, scenic drive along the coast that led to a main village (I believe it was Roundstone) in the middle of all that barren nothingness. This was such a pleasant surprise as we first saw an outstanding beach with white sands and turquoise waters lapping at its shore. I was shocked to see it - it looked like it was the Caribbean! We quickly stopped the car to gaze at the view of the beach, and then my attention was turned to a field with 2 Connemara ponies - I was a major equestrian as a child and teen, and knew all about all the different breeds of horses but had never seen a Connemara pony in real life. As if things couldn't get even more pleasant for me, suddenly 2 donkeys came down the road towards us! They obviously knew tourists - and were not shy!! I was able to pet them to my hearts delight. After snapping a few photos we headed back to the car and would you believe they came with us and stuck their cute heads into the car???!! As in the door of the car! I thought they were actually going to climb into my passenger seat! We laughed so hard and I, ingeniously, remembered my digital camera can record a little bit - so I filmed them and as soon as I can figure out how to upload them onto UTube, you can bet they will be published on this blog! We were unable to contain our laughter and smiles after this so we decided to stop for lunch at a very quaint pub. Of course, P got to have his Guinness. This pub had loads of character and we imagined was full of locals mixing with any tourists in the evenings. But right now, it was empty save one loan native dressed smartly in a pant suit and jacket, with his wavy, dirty-blond hair combed back. He stood at the bar, speaking with the bartender while traditional Irish music played semi-loudly in the background. At one point I excused myself to the ladies' room and evidently the man turned to Patrick and asked him pointedly in a thick, country accent, "Dew yew like this music?"

To which Patrick replied, "Yes, I do..."

Which made the man grin - exposing a mouthful of rotting, brown or missing teeth - "I feckin' LOVE it!!!" he retorted back enthusiastically.

Such an amusing and candid exchange could only happen in such an out-of-the-way local pub. By the time I had returned, P was still chuckling and recounted me the story. The man turned towards me - not quite making eye contact - I noticed most men didn't do this in smaller towns, but he started dancing an Irish jig. Just perfect!!
Click on slideshow below!

Ireland Day 3

Ireland - Day 2 - Rostrevor

We awoke our second day very, very early due to jet lag. In fact, I have NEVER seen Patrick - notorious for NOT being a morning person - get up so early and encourage ME to hurry up!

First we had breakfast. I need to talk about Irish Cuisine. Well, this was not going to be like my trips to Italy where I eat my way through the Mediterranean. Que Va! First of all: the Irish aren't known for their cuisine. Second of all: I do not eat meat which cancels out the stuff that supposedly IS good. Patrick daily made himself a "fry" - I've never heard it put in that term but so it was. His parents knowingly stocked up on Irish bacon (thicker than the USA), ham, sausage and fresh eggs and baked bread for his stay. He fried himself a huge plate of...meat - I could barely stand to just look at it much less sit next to him eating it. He'd down it with a big cup of tea. Such a heavy, artery-clogging meal...yikes! That said the Irish eat it everyday and aren't overweight like Americans. I just know that our food here is stocked up on sodium and preservatives while in Europe everything is so fresh. Nonetheless, can I just say by day 3 I was sick of tea? I also understand better why the Irish and Brits have horrible, brown teeth - drinking tea and Guinness daily will do quite a bit of staining. In fact, one morning Patrick's mother commented upon my laughing out loud that my "teeth were like white pearls.."!!! She really said that!!! I replied that I do take good care of them. I don't understand something so easy to do is so neglected over there. (Right, P?)

Back to the food: I survived on tea, fresh bread, cheese melt sandwiches,flax seed, yogurt and cereal with fresh berries in the morning (they bought me Special K since they heard I have to watch my girlish figure) heheheh. So thoughtful.

That early morning was full of sunshine - although the air was bitingly fresh and nippy. But it was a beautiful morning and we knew better than to waste it since it could rain at any moment. Thus, on the road at 7:15 Patrick drove me to some of his old haunts from when he was a teen. We first drove to the nearby coastal town of Rostrevor and stopped at a small lake called "Waterworks". It was so early that there was an eerie, thick fog that moved quickly across the water. It was very beautiful but my camera definitely couldn't capture its haunting beauty. Then we drove further and took a long, peaceful walk in a large park with trails - appropriately named, "Fairy Glen". This was definitely one of the most picturesque and beautiful places I've ever traversed. I was absolutely charmed and perfectly happy exploring some of the trails and taking pictures of the gorgeous, huge trees (I LOVE trees) and the bubbling spring that ran parallel with the main trail. It was so early a Sunday morning that we pretty much had it to ourselves save a couple folks with their dogs :). One thing worth noting about the Irish is how they greet everyone (American is sadly too self-absorbed for this) and if there is nice weather they will comment, "Good morning to you, and what a nice one it is!" Isn't that just charming?


There are many forests as well in Ireland when there aren't the grassy fields I previously posted about. P drove me to a very beautiful forest spot called Yellowstone Park that had a fresh river gurgling through it and several picnic benches. He used to hang out there with the boys or bring girls there when "courting".:) It was also a spot where some of his stories of being surrounded and interrogated at gunpoint by Brit soldiers had occurred just because they were a group of lads hanging out there. I guess anything looked suspicious in those days and needed to be investigated. "It's just the way it was..." he mused. But, to me, it all sounded horrific as I pictured how it used to be only years before in that exact same peaceful spot of nature which now charmed me as a tourist. Just mind-boggling. And sad... If that weren't a lot of walking and exploring already (and before most had even risen yet to go to Sunday Mass), we then did a steep, half-mile hike up the slopes of Slievemartin to Cloghmore Stone. At the top of the grassy and tree-filled hills sits a very large misplaced boulder that was supposedly hurled by the Irish Giant Fion MacCool at the rival Scotts. I love good folklore! This gave a wonderful view of the waters of Carlingford Lough and the towns of Warrenpoint and Rostrevor that sit upon its shores far below. After a nice lunch with Patricks parents and their friends Ingmar and her husband Brendan ("A Protestant", his Dad felt I needed to be informed) at the "Whistlestop" in downtown Warrenpoint we later that afternoon then took another very steep hike up the Cooly Mountains that also overlooked Carlingford Lough - but opposite from the Mourne Mountains and rock where we were earlier that morning. The Cooley Mountains were more foreboding than the tourist and hiker-friendly Cloghmore Stone, that's for sure. For one, there wasn't even a trail to follow. We just walked straight up as best we could. Also, it was cold and extremely windy and full of rock and heather (making me think of my beloved classic novel, "Wuthering Heights" written by the Northern Irish novelist Emily Bronte).

It was quite a day with much hiking and exploring, thus when we had had enough sight-seeing we retired early that evening as we had a very long drive the next day to the western coast of Ireland.
Click on photo album below and watch slideshow!

Ireland Day 2

Northern Ireland - Day 1 - Warrenpoint, Carlingford

Okay, okay so that I may look back fondly years from now in this journal-blog of mine, I now prepare to detail my little adventure with the Leprechauns!

After flying into the Irish capital of Dublin, P and I rented a car and drove the 1.5 hours to County Down inNorthern (Occupied) Ireland where he is from. This is when I first was struck at the sheer numbers of fields dividing the country land and how green it all was. Soon we headed towards what used to be a barricade check-point with troops of armed British soldiers: the border between the North and the South. It was absolutely mind-boggling to me that Patrick not only grew up in the violent years of "The Troubles" of Northern Ireland but that his border hometown was right in the middle of it!

Warrenpoint, is a quaint, relaxing eastern seaside town of about 20k. It has evidently become very popular to settle and retire in and housing prices have soared along with the numerous new housing constructions. It has 2 piers and there is a lot of fishing done there. There is also a charming square with beautifully landscaped park and playground for children along with a bandstand that holds concerts in the summer. I was also surprised to learn there are quite a few golf courses throughout the land. I admire those that don't let the rain and cold stop them. Unsurprisingly, Patrick has a huge love of the sea as he grew up right on the water in a former 3-story hotel that he and his mother occupied while his father was often out to sea. Although somewhat strange that he should share such expanse alone with his mother, the undeniable fact is that he had an amazing view from his bedroom window high on the top overlooking the sea and his daily playground was the water. "I know every rock on that shore," he commented as he tossed a smooth rock, skipping it across the water with the ease of someone who grew up perfecting the pastime. It struck me that, of course, Patrick could only have become a world-traveling seafarer himself growing up in such a place and following the footsteps of his father and other men in his family.

After perusing the small town and shoreline, we drove to the very nice neighborhood that his parents now have settled in for 15 years. Completely different than the seaside hotel, this was Irish suburbia at its best. All pointed-roof houses were identically made from red bricks and impeccably landscaped - although I never did get an answer as to who does the landscaping when there aren't any Mexicans around to do it. Patricks 'mudder' (mother) was just as I expected: petite, generous, very hospitable and very Catholic. His American dad was the antithesis of his son: needing to be the center of attention and full of stories and opinions that had to be heard - he loves an audience and appreciated the engaging, polite one that I was.

After a most enjoyable hearty meal of vegetable stew and a loaf of fantastic freshly-baked wheat bread, we hit the hay for a bit before going to Saturday night mass with his folks. This was very interesting to me as I have enjoyed attending Catholic mass now in Mexico, Peru, Italy and Ireland as well as the USA. They do much less singing in Ireland - which made the mass only about 40 minutes long - no complaints to my jet-lagged self. The priest was young and I was pleasantly surprised to see he had a good sense of humour which he applied in his homily. Also, interesting to note was that they now use alter girls as well in Ireland (one would just assume they are too conservative and traditional to do so there, I mean, for Pete's sake - they barely made divorce legal in 1997!) I definitely got some stares there as there aren't many brown people or foreigners in the north - much less Latinos. I also didn't want to start any rough business for P by giving the wrong signals to the boys there in those smaller towns, so I was pretty frumpy and muted - NOT me at all - during my stay in the north.

That night we drove to a nearby medieval town of Carlingford to walk around and visit one of his old pubs. Patrick informed me there are younger, hip and modern nightclubs and bars now in Ireland but neither of us desired that as they are frequented by inebriated youth that have nothing better to do than start a fight. The pub we entered was small, old-fashioned and traditional with a low ceiling and mostly men. I laughed as I pointed out that I was the only one NOT drinking Guinness or a pint of some sort. Making me stand out all the more, he he he. Some things just can't be avoided after all, I guess. :) Click on slideshow below!

Warrenpoint, Ireland

Elsa's Top 5 Ireland List

Alas, my beau Patrick and I returned safely from our sojourn to his native Ireland! It was lovely to be able to see where he grew up and meet his parents there. But before I detail our trip I have to state my Top 5 Things I Will Forever Think of When I Think of Ireland:

1). It's really GREEN. I know that everyone knows that Ireland is green. But I've traveled to 3 different continents now, and I've never seen any land so lush and green. Of course, we also went during the spring so it was extra lovely this time of year, but I must admit it's even greener than I anticipated.

2). FIELDS. Ireland is FULL of fields. Everyone owns a field. Families pass fields down generation to generation. I think that if you do not have a field in Ireland, you must be poor. But thatcan't be true, because even the poor have their fields. It's a way to make a living there,keep livestock or have as property to build your house upon. Fields are worth their weight in gold there.
3). COWS. Ha ha I threw you all off with that one, didn't I? One would think I'd say 'sheep', but after driving across the country I can honestly say I saw more cows grazing in the fields than sheep.

4). ROSY CHEEKS. Everyone is Ireland has the cutest pink-flushed cheeks! Young and old, male or female. I guess it must be due to that biting wind there, but my Paddy doesn't have it :(

5). PADDY's ACCENT - Ha ha - I LOVED this one! Patrick uses an American accent in the States since he doesn't like the attention he gets having an accent. (Well, he does admit to using it in his young 20s to get some girls here). That said, being the Europhile-accent-loving gal that I am: I have pleaded to hear his Irish brogue for over a year now but there was no hiding it in his homeland where it came out unchecked. *sigh* I listened and imitated it to my hearts delight!! :)

For those of you disappointed (and shocked) that I didn't mention the national beverage of choice, "Guinness" beer: well, I personally hate beer and this trip was more about seeing the culture and nature than going to Pubs. That said, I shall give it a honorable mention so as not to offend anyone. And even though I can't stomach the stuff I did pick up a swell logo t-shirt in duty-free!

It's good to BEE back home

The bad news today was upon returning to my house a bee from the hive that made it's nest on the inner corner of my 2nd story roof stung the dickens out of me - "OWWWW!" Not a nice welcome home, if you ask me! Shoot, I haven't been stung by a bee but once when I was a little girl, and had no recollection as to how much it really hurt as I felt the poison quickly spread throughout my forearm. It's a good half hour later and only now bearable. Patrick has been telling me for a year now that I need to stop risking chances with that hive and only now am I going to be serious about calling the keepers to come and take it away since they are obviously in attack mode or have been infested by the killer bees from South America!! The good news: E is back from Ireland, and full of stories and pictures coming soon :)

Erin Go Bragh!!

Today I awoke from Patrick's call, "Top of the mornin' tew yew!" and off to Ireland we go!

Happy Mother's Day from Elsa!!!

I am not a mother and it's not quite Mother's Day but I would like on behalf of AOL.com like to celebrate Mother's Day and remind all of you take your moms out to a nice champagne mimosa brunch! hahahaha!!

Click on www.aol.com to see me on the aol.com homepage for today! *You may need to click the arrows to get to my segment! :)

80s Song of the Week - David Bowie "China Girl"

My loyal readers know that David Bowie is one of my top favorite artists ever, especially his 80s period (which is when I was first introduced to his music). Boy how this song and video, "China Girl" shows his sexy side as he sings in a low, throaty, sensual bass voice. Hot dog! And, Hey - I'm a believer that interracial relationships are the way of the future so I appreciate he and his China doll rolling around on the beach - heh heh heh. Whew! Pretty risque and ahead of it's time.

**I just have to comment that he seems a little racially superior when he taunts her like the kids do by pulling his eyes tightly outward with his fingers a la Chinese eyes. Not PC, Bowie, not PC at all...

Fabulous, Dahling!

I noted a couple posts ago how tired I've been lately. I've been fortunate to work some weekends modeling in runway shows and it's keeping me busy along with the regular school job.

A couple weeks ago I had the pleasure of wearing some fabulous clothes in a Charity luncheon/fashion show for the Ronald McDonald Kids' House Foundation. The show was produced and put on by femme fatal, Leonard Simpson - who looks younger and thinner I see her every time - the beotch! In all seriousness, Simpson puts on the best runway shows I've ever done in all my years of modeling - with props, dogs, amazing clothes, flowers, lights, accessories crafted by himself... his shows are stressful, quick and light years more polished than most. I remember how stressed and intimidated I used to be by him and the experienced girls from Los Angeles in my first show with him years ago in Pasadena, Los Angeles. It sure feels good that he now requests me all the time and told the 3 new teens to watch me and have me help them out.

The show was deemed a huge success and then it was on to the next...
click on slide show below!

show4.21.07

Felicidades que soy Vieja!

Today I woke up no longer in the coveted advertising demographic age group of 18-34 (GASP!) That's okay, I'm taking my graying hair and big, pretty (although blind) eyes and moving on to the milestone of thirty-five. Three-five. Three decades and one half-decade. 3-5.

Lord, I'm just tickled pink at how young I still am in so many ways. My mamma left me a message today saying that I am a 'beauitful child.' (????!!!!) Well, that says it all! I know I am the youngest and all in my family of 8 but I've done pretty damn good for myself spiritually, mentally and physically. Just haven't got the money thing down yet but perhaps it's because I've never cared. he he he

God-willing I've another 35 to go! :)

Nuestro Anniversario

Well, I am from Northern Ireland but live here now..." were your first words were to me. And thus it all began.

Well, a year later I accompany you to Northern Ireland.

Life is good.

God is Great.

I love you, P