80s Song of the Week - Madonna "Lucky Star"

You better work! This was the first huge single I remember of Madonna back when I was in Jr. High. What can I say? The woman is STILL going strong! But NOTHING compares to how big she was in the 80s...

I loved her in the 80s! I love that gay men love her! I love her big, ethnic eyes with 80s eyeliner! I love this video - I remember learning the choreography to it! I love how she incorporated her dance training into it - basic steps, not major, polished dance routines that came later. I Love that she was one of the few who could pull off teased hair tied up in a bow on the top of her head. I love her rolling around on the floor. I love that people now do get how scandalous and sexy and provocative she was for that time!! I mean Madonna was HUGE!! Everyone dressed and did their hair like either her or Duran Duran in the 80s. Say what you want, I respect her for her longevity and uniqueness. I still love her older stuff :)

Pony Ride

Here's video of Ciara riding the pony at the Fair - YES, I am retarded for somehow filming her sideways!!!!

The Del Mar Fair - Shake Down

First of all I am NOT calling it the "San Diego County Fair" because I still don't understand why they decided to change the name after years. All natives still call it the Del Mar Fair. Anyhew..

Patrick and I flew in from Vegas around noon on Sunday and then met up with his daughter, Ciara, at the Fair - she was with her mom who generously gave us free tickets and great seats to the Mariachi Festival there. After fighting traffic and parking for ages we finally got inside, ate something (ummm P introduced me to funnel cake), tracked down Ciara and sat down to listen to the talented performers. I could have stayed longer, obviously - being a musician and singer myself, and P was definitely being very patient - he's Irish and all. Ciara, on the other hand, was being a typical kid and was NOT patient about watching the festival but wanted to go on the rides. :) We watched just over an hour, that was about her limit and then we went to the carnival section of the Fair.

Two words: Shake...Down. That is what P and I say when things are expensive but you have no alternative. For example: Ciara's private Catholic school - Shake Down. Car insurance: Shake Down. Las Vegas: Shake Down. You get the picture..

So, we bought some ride tickets (shake down) and of course the rides took anywhere from 4-6 tickets. Ciara is still young so she wanted us to go on rides with her. "Too bad..honey...too bad!" as my gay friend used to say. I did go on 1 ride with her - "The Storm" - since her dad is um..well, ride-challenged. he he he We screamed our fool heads off and it was fun. She then went alone on a big slide that you sat on a piece of carpet to make you go even faster. P and I laughed watching her face because she did NOT look happy at all!! hehehe


After the ride tickets quickly vanished and a botched attempt (shake down) to win a stuffed animal I tried distracting Ciara by saying, "ooo let's go look at the animals!" Actually there are a many great things to look at at the Fair. We went into large halls to look at the home decor booths, plants, and some photography before getting to the livestock. We loved the pigs - they totally resembled Fred-the-basset-hound's long body, short legs and squishy butt.

Lastly, we came across a circular pony ride to which Ciara immediately begged to go on (more shake down). I have to admit that I couldn't let P turn down her wanting to go on a pony ride (with my own love of horses). Even though she was the biggest kid there and has been to pony camp before she still had fun going in circles. I commented to Patrick that it brought back wonderful memories of my paternal grandfather, "Grandpa Martinez" who took my sister Sara and I every Sunday when he'd visit from Calexixo to the circular pony ride in Bonita (where the Pier 1 Imports now stands, right before the entrance to the 805 North freeway). *sigh* That is probably one of only 3 or 4 much memories of my abuelito and is my earliest memory of falling in love with horses. :) I shall never forget his introducing us to horses - a lifelong love... Back to the fair - it definitely was nice to go back again. I realized that I had only been twice in my life. Once as a kid with our 4-H Club - my sister Sara won a prize for calligraphy that was displayed with a ribbon. And the last time I went was about the age of 20 to also go check out the free concert in the racetrack midfield of Mr. "Rico Suave" himself: Gerardo. Yes - I DID just admit to that! I definitely won't be letting another 15 years go by without going. I'm sure Ciara and P go every year anyway. It's such a nice sense of community there for our rapidly growing city. And it was a true pleasure to see the animals and art that I used to be so involved with in my childhood. There really is something for everyone - as long as you've got deep pockets!!

Too Goody-Goody for Sin City

Alas, Patrick and I went to Las Vegas last Friday night. After proudly,conveniently and meticulously packing heels, a dress, bikini, some makeup and 50 sunblock (sheeit, how do you think my skin looks so good at 35??!)in a purse so that I wouldn't have to carry hardly anything I drove to P's house and waited for him to come from work. Time was ticking away and I was getting anxious about Friday traffic. He still had yet to pack even!! I reflected that why is it my last 2 boyfriends are such procrastinators when it comes to traveling and I end up being all stressed out and barely making flights - that is NOT me, at all!!

Of course, once we DID finally get to the airport and it was our turn to check me in (P had done his online already, but I couldn't for some strange reason) - I realized that in my packing so lightly I neglected to put my wallet and ID back in the purse!!!!!! I almost cried. And I must admit P could have gone off on me but took it very well - my good nature must be rubbing off on him- he he he. I did tell him to go on without me, and I would get a cab to his house where the wallet was and then try to get a later flight that night or next morning. He kept denying but I insisted. So we got back in line and at our turn I told the attendant I forgot my ID and was there any later flights I could go stand by on? Amazingly enough: he informed me that Southwest Airlines, indeed, will let you fly sans ID (!!!!!!!!!???) HOLY COW!! We were shocked beyond belief! I just had to go through secondary security and have my bag searched and me patted down. No sweat! They always do this to me anyway (no matter who I'm flying) as I look "Iranian" or something - sheeit.

So would you believe we made it?? As I sat next to P on the flight and told him I am just happy to be on the plane, he hilariously commented, "I finally got you figured out, E..." he began. "You are so low-maintenance that you are high-maintenance!" It was pretty funny, indeed (if ENTIRELY incorrect!) :)

A short time later found us in the McCarron Airport where we began walking towards baggage claim. Just as I commented to P, "We should look out for (friends) Mik and Stef.." I suddenly hear the thunderous sound of my ex Italian Miky running barefoot holding his fliflops down the corridor towards us with Stef about 10 feet behind yelling directions to him, "Go left...LEFT!!!" I already had known they were leaving Vegas the time we were arriving more or less and it was hilarious to see them like that. As it turned out they missed their flight but were able to catch a later one. Whew!

Enough of the excitement already. We stepped outside to the reality that Vegas was in a heat-wave. At 9pm it was over 100 degrees!! Ay, que calor!!! We had just enough time to get to our hotel, The Tropicana, minutes to change and meet Patrick's old navy buddy and roommate, Gary, and his wife, Shane, for dinner at the hotel New York, New York.

I had already heard some of the stories and adventures of living in North Park 15 years ago with Gary and some other buddies. And I had been warned of his sarcastic, but witty personality. But as I told P later, the minute I saw Gary and he opened his mouth I thought, "Another one of those gay STRAIGHT men!!!" Not sure if you understand that term I've used for years now but it means a man who is Straight but has some Gay mannerisms in speech, or dress, etc etc. My ex Mark was a proud gay straight man. So was Mik. Now, both these ex boyfriends are completely heterosexual, but it's true! And Patrick although not as obvious, DOES have a couple metrosexual tendencies at best.

Back to Gary.. he and Shane are newlyweds and expecting their first child this summer - she was glowing in her pending mother-to-be status - well, that and sweating in the heat :) Gary took us to an Irish place called "Nine Fine Irishman" because he hadn't had a Guinness with P in 15 years. The food was alright, but the drinks strong and it was quite a fun evening hearing stories of how everyone met, and the old days with P in the Navy. Gary is a big man in the hotel bar and restaurant industry in Vegas and he is as we speak on a plane now to live in China for 3 years (Shane will join him after their girl is born) where he is helping open some Vegas sister hotels there. Not bad for an ex ganja-smoking, skirt-chasing, beer-guzzling sailor boy from the South! It was a fun evening and I was very glad we got to see them before they leave on their huge adventure in China and parenthood.. By the time we left them it was getting pretty late. We went into the casino and Patrick sat down at Roulette (the only game I have gambled on - if you read my Lake Tahoe blog - link - from November). He won and lost and came out $40 on top before calling it quits. Hungry again we walked to the nearby Hooters Hotel (I never would have guessed there exists a Hooter Girls Hotel) - for him to get 99 cent shrimp cocktail and i had a fabulous slice of apple pie before calling it a night after 2am - ummmm!

After sleeping in Saturday we hit the downstairs cafe for breakfast (no buffets for us this trip - it's a waste for me, I just can't eat that much). Then we went back upstairs for another food-induced nap - hehehe. Well, in his defense P has been working really hard lately. I was glad he got to catch up on some sleep! And it was just so hot outside that we didn't even want to spend all day at the pool. But eventually we went down to it and grabbed some chairs in the shade - P is Irish after all - I didn't want him burning in the 111 degree heat! I understand there are a couple new trendy pool places (onethat's even topless and comes highly recommended by Italians Mik and Neno) but we had no desire for that scene or the $40 cover charge to get in. Leave that to the young, single folks. That said lots of chatting and relaxing on the chairs ensued and eventually P suggested a cocktail - returning with 2 football-shaped containers full of ice, juice and a tiny hint of rum (I felt nothing and I'm a lightweight). After a couple hours of still talking and sipping the sweet punch we finally went back upstairs to shower and get ready for a night out.
Previously mentioned Stef (sales rep for Leblon cachasa rum in San Diego and Vegas) very generously left us a $50 credit at hotel Mirage to use on their mojitos and Brazilian caprihinas. So after getting changed and walking slowly down the Strip we made our way to Mirage, stopping to look in hotels and casinos on the way. It was slightly but noticeably cooler that evening - I love walking around Vegas at sunset! It's fun to people-watch and as Shane had said, "You know you are in Vegas when you've seen Elvis, a bride and a bachelorette party." Well, we DID!

After some yummy drinks we walked back up the towards our hotel - a long haul! Our feet were starting to hurt and we were thirsty when P bought one of those ridiculously huge margaritas that took both of us 20 minutes to finish together! It also, by the way, had a tiny amount of tequila in it. Jeezus - I am a lightweight and we were paying over $15 for those drinks - and NO buzz?!!!
We went into the Paris hotel and P played more roulette and ended up winning $220 - almost paying for his plane ticket! I simply enjoyed myself watching, (no gambling for me) and people watching and spending time with my man in his retro bowling shirt - so handsome, my Patrick! *sigh*

So here is my take on Vegas: I love the desert heat but it was too hot this time of year to go. Also, I am definitely NOT a partier, drinker or gambler, so I can't really say I love Vegas. In fact, should I never go back, I'd be just fine. Don't get me wrong - it's very unique and interesting to people-watch. But it's NOT my cup of tea at all. I MUCH prefer all my past trips that involve hiking, camping, foreign languages and nature of some sort. I don't know if it's because I worked for years in the bar industry or that I model and am 35 or what - but I could care less about seeing women bursting out of their dresses, trying SO hard for attention and men having to spend all their money on women who might not even give them their number. Blah. If I had more money I would have definitely gone to see the theater shows - Phantom of the Opera, Spamalot, the Cirque du Soleil for axample.. and I would have gambled maybe $100 on roulette. But that's that as far as anything different than what we did.

That said, I'd go anywhere with my man. At least once..he he he

"What's Happening?" in the Martinez TVLand

Growing up we were not allowed to watch much TV. That was fine - we all loved reading and were certainly good at cultivating our imaginations while playing with so many siblings. Also, my parents were strict on what we could watch. As far as cartoons we watched: The Transformers, Bugs Bunny cartoons, G-Force and Thundercats. As far as regular shows we watched "Little House on the Prairie", "The Land of the Lost", "Battlestar Galatica", "The Cosby Show", "The A-Team", "Family Ties" and surprisingly enough: "The Dukes of Hazard". No racy shows likes "The Facts of Life" or "Three's Company" for the sweet Martinez kids - HECK NO!

But, hands down, the funniest show we watched during 1976-1979 was, "What's Happening!!!" From uber-skinny Roger to jolly dance wiz, beret-wearing Re-Run to hilarious deadpan younger tattle-tail sister, Dee - my siblings and I laughed our flat Mexican asses off!

It's good to know the innocent Martinez kids got exposed to such cool 70s funk!

One More Try for Vegas...

So, my man, Patrick and I were chatting away as we do in our healthy relationship (he he he - we TRY and I DO have the Gift to Gab, ya know, so it's not too hard!) and we got to talking about Las Vegas. We came to the conclusion that neither of us, although having been there a couple times, still really know Las Vegas or have enjoyed it the way it may be possible (going with someone you really like spending time with for one, having time to actually walk and around and see things: number 2).

For my part, I've gone 3 times - which is NOTHING for a Southern Californian - I know people who go every weekend (my ex Italian told me he has met so many nice and beautiful people there that he is actually thinking of moving there just for a month later this summer to hang out). But that's a whole other story :)! If you are a loyal blog reader (or at least like it when I post pictures of me and model friends cleaned up a bit) you may have read this blog about the last time I went to Vegas about 2 years ago.

In any case I went once to audition for the National Tour of Les Miserables back in 1998 - and left the same day. Then I went with previously mentioned ex Italian boyfriend when he bought his car there and we only had lunch and drove back the same day. Then there was the blog above - which was all bells and whistles, along with 23 other gals from San Diego for an all-expense paid, VIP trip to The Bellagio Hotel - but you can read that blog for yourself.

I am not a gambler, a partier, and hardly a drinker. But I do like walking around, seeing new things and people-watching and I LOVE the desert heat so I'm excited that P and I are going there for the weekend. Read next week for any interesting stories and Elsa (Goody 2-Shoes) and her take on Sin City...

PS - to my girlfriends who I know will ask: NO, we are NOT running out there to get "hitched" by an Elvis-impersonator!

Someone, Please HELP ME!!

I finally will admit it: I need help. Advice. Prayers.

I have been living now for years with him.

And I almost can't take it anymore.

He has turned into such a vicious monster...

My cat, Jordy, has turned into a mass murderer!!
Now since I have had him as a big kitten of several months he has occasionally brought to our doorstep a bird. But in the last 2 weeks he averages 2 kills a day!!! And now that he has a swinging-cat-door so he can enter and exit my house as he pleases, he BRINGS his kill inside!

It's bad enough to know he's doing it, but to have to see mangled pieces of bird, lizards, small field mice, larger rats and gophers - enough is enough! I have found piles of feathers, decapitated heads of a mouse or bird, a single bird leg and claw, or the tail of a lizard. I've managed to capture and save 2 birds and 2 lizards and set them free outdoors, but it's difficult. Jordy has gotten fatter so I know he is eating most of his kill. But it's nasty and unhygienic!

This weekend was the kicker when he woke me up in the middle of the night, jumping on my bed (he usually sleeps with me a couple hours) and on top of me (I was under the covers) I see a small mouse dangling by his tail from Jordy's mouth!!

"Bad, Jordy!!!" I yelled angrily at him for bringing it on my bed. To which he opened his mouth and dropped the mouse - which turned out to be still alive!!

I let out a blood curdling scream. I am not scared of mice by any means, but I didn't expect it to be ALIVE and it could have jumped at my face or gone under the covers!! Instead it jumped sideways off the bed and scuttled across the hall to the other bedroom. Jordy promptly jumped off the bed after the mousey and I stood up not knowing what to do. The mouse was tiny and quick - there was no way I'd catch him, and he probably ran into my closet - even harder. I figured there was nothing I could do, so I shut my door to keep Jordy out, and the rest of the night listened to him in the other room trying to capture the poor wee thing.

Is it my fault? I am hardly home and feel guilty leaving Jordy alone so often so I had bought him a few months ago an expensive cat door. Or did I bring it on buying him in assorted colors catnip mice to play with???

This is getting ridiculous! I thought I could secure the door so he doesn't leave at night - he tends to kill more often then. But cats are nocturnal and that is when they are awake (he sleeps almost all day). I realize that he is proud of his kill and trying to 'share' it with me (I read that years ago) - but it has become pretty gross!

Any advice from anyone???
Jordy-the-Culprit

You Know You're From Southern California When:

Your monthly house payments exceed your annual income (and you think it's normal)

You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don't notice it.

You don't know anyone's phone number unless you check your cell phone.

You speak Spanish, but you're not Mexican.

You begin to "lie" to your friends about how close you are when you know darn well that it'll take you at least an hour to get there (see below).

Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about "twenty minutes".

You drive to your neighborhood block party.

In the "winter", you can go to the beach and ski at Big Bear on the same day or mow your lawn in your shorts on New Years Day, and maybe sunburn.

You eat a different ethnic food for every meal.

If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you're definitely driving.

Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code.

You know what "In-'N-Out" is and feel bad for all the other states because they don't have any.

Stop signs stand for, "Slow To Observe Police".

You go to a tanning salon before going to the beach.

You eat pineapple on pizza.

Your cell phone has left a permanent impression on the side of your head.

You think that Venice is a beach.

The waitress asks if you'd like "carbs" in your meal.

You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An "818" would never date a "562" and anyone from "323" or "213" is ghetto/second class. Best area code: "949/714." Nobody likes anyone from the "909/951" because it stinks there.

You call 911 and they put you on hold.

You have a gym membership because it's mandatory.

The gym is packed at 3 pm...on a workday.

You think you are better than the people who live "Over the Hill". It doesn't matter which side of the hill you are currently residing, you are just better than them, for whatever reason.

You know that if you drive one mile in any direction you will find a McDonald's, Subway or a Starbucks.

You know what "Sigalert", "PCH", and the "Five" mean.

You know the meaning behind the name of the 405 freeway.... because it
takes 4 hours to get one way, and 5 hours to get back.

It's barely sprinkling rain and there's a report on every news station:"STORM WATCH".

The Terminator is your Governor.

You actually get these jokes!!

Ireland - more Day 7 and Day 8 - Dublin

Finally it was time to move on and we continued south to the capital city of the Republic - Dublin. After having spent my entire trip in nature, coastlines, fields, and seeing so much green green green - I really had to switch gears upon entering the city and hitting the modern and inconvenience of... traffic. Dublin was full of people - tourists, students, immigrants from all over - it was bustling with activity. I liked it, though. Not as much as our days, drives and hikes through Nature, but it was a welcome change.

Since I had planned and organized everything for our trip to Peru last October, and this is P's native country, after all, I had left all planning to him. Of course, he didn't book a hotel. We were not sure where we were going or what we were doing most of the time so we ended up really walking around a lot. We didn't go in anything, but I could see there was definitely some fun window shopping and I enjoyed the people-watching, that can be sure! It was extremely expensive and a lunch of a personal pizza and spaghetti (without even any bread)and 1 coke set us back more than $50 - YIKES! But what can you do?

As I previously mentioned, brilliantly, Patrick hadn't booked a hotel for us - and we realized walking around and inquiring on a Friday late afternoon was becoming ludicrous since everything was booked and the few things vacant were ridiculously expensive. We were starting to really tire and got caught in the rain when finally we saw a tourist center. We dashed in and grabbed the next ticket to be called - the place was closing in 10 minutes and we were fearful they would turn us away. I prayed as I watched the light board ticker count the numbers towards ours as one by one people were called up to get help. At the last minute it called our number - what a relief! A nice Spanish girl helped us inquire into hotels at about the rate of 100 euro. She knew it was last minute and we didn't quote her a great rate so she politely looked at her computer with an air of resigned helplessness. Suddenly she found one but it wasn't in the city center where we wanted to be - we didn't really want to deal with expensive cabs, traffic or walking too far late at night - when it might not be safe. P asked her if she had even heard of the place to which she replied, "No..".

What else could we do? We accepted it and she called the hotel to confirm for us and then ran the credit card for the deposit. After showing us on a city map of where it was, we set off. By this time we had been walking for a couple hours, were tired, looked pretty bad, wet, stringy hair, I was lugging my Peru hiking backpack with both our clothes and necessities as P had his special, but heavy, camera bag with his professional lenses. Let's just say we weren't looking that posh or polished. Or like we had any money whatsoever.

We finally found the hotel, the Premiere Suites, and went inside to find that it was extremely posh with metrosexual furniture and red mood lighting that I love - I mean, it looked like a "W" hotel! I couldn't believe it! We weren't expecting that at all and I must admit I felt extremely unattractive and unkempt next to the coiffed blonde, middle-aged woman with nice perfume who checked in before us with her Louis Vuitton luggage. We looked like backpackers in wet jeans and sneakers! A very nice African man checked us in as I looked around admiring the place. I saw him type in the computer and a shadow cross his face. "Oh,no!" my heart sunk as I saw it. I thought there was some mistake and we weren't staying there after all!! I mentioned before anything, "We just had the girl at the tourist center call you about a half hour ago and we ran the credit card for a deposit so there shouldn't be a problem." He then commented, "You wanted a double bed and I mistakenly put you down for 2 twin beds..." Now, evidently at this point P was so distracted by the metro sexual furniture or so tired that he didn't really understand what was going on. The receptionist continued, "Would you want the 2 twin beds?" - Again, I must point out that P, for whatever reason, didn't seem to understand what was going on and he just shook his head stating, "No, we want a single queen." Now, I at the same precise moment was opening my mouth (because I was so tired and didn't want to cause trouble NOR try to look for another place to stay) to say, "That is fine, we will take the twin beds.." but as I mentioned above P beat me to it and the man then continued on to say, "Well, I have no single queen bed rooms vacant, so I will just have to upgrade you for free" (P later said he still didn't get what was happening, but I was holding my breath when I heard the word 'upgrade') "to the......Penthouse Suite."

??!*&%$!!! Jumping Jehoshaphat! My heart leaped as I kicked P ecstatically under the desk out of sight. We got the Penthouse Suite at the top of the hotel for the rate of 100 euros!! It easily would have been 3 times as much!! I couldn't believe our luck! He asked if we needed help with our luggage - HA ! We had backpacks!! In the elevator we pressed the special button reserved for penthouse guests. Hilarious! P said as we rose, "I didn't get what was happening..." "I know!!" I replied gleefully. We walked into our suites and I was so excited by the metrosexual, minimalist interior design and decor that I started snapping pictures. Now, I must admit, that a penthouse in the USA would have even more bang but this was absolutely amazing to us when it was so unexpected and so lucky that we fell into it! It even had a kitchen, 2 flatscreen TVs, a rooftop patio and a wonderful hot bath that I promptly indulged in. After relaxing a bit, eating the cookies left for us and watching some TV we left the hotel to go on the Literary Pub Crawl. Well, doesn't that make us sound both refined and touristy all at once? hehehe. It is a pub crawl visiting the bars that were frequented by the famous Irish writers: Yeats, Shaw, Beckett, Joyce and Swift (that is all I can remember anyway). We arrived at the bar The Duke for the the beginning of the crawl. Crammed into a smaller backroom, we paid our entry and everyone got their drinks and watched as 2 professional actors (a man and a woman) welcomed us with some witty lines, an overview of the evening to come, a famous Irish drinking song (we all heartily joined in the chorus with my classically-trained voice leading the way) and then enjoyed a few minutes of playwright Samuel Beckett's fabulously absurd, "Waiting for Godot".

We were informed that we would be attending 4 different pubs (where each time we'd grab a drink for about a half hour before moving on). But we also learned that some of the skits and performances and history would also be given outside in stops between the pubs (for example: Trinity College). Okay, my native San Diegan warm blood aside: it was a FREEZING night - with major icy winds and some rain - as a matter of fact - the hotel people as well as the actors commented it was unusually cold and windy for Dublin. Well, let me tell you: it was BLOODY cold!!! We only had jeans and a lighter jacket, others had coats, hats, scarves, gloves and umbrellas. I actually HAD to drink to get buzzed so I wouldn't feel my pain!! By the time we hit about 1.5 hours it was pretty miserable - but the 2 actors were wonderfully talented and I truly enjoyed their performances and told P how I felt their pain - struggling for work and having to take a job like this - performing for drunk tourists (albeit an older, more intelligent crowd), straining their voices in the cold night air and noisy bars - I really felt for my fellow thespians and the sacrifices we must do for our art. (Was that dramatic enough for you???)

We met up at the last bar of the crawl with some lovely bright young American (from Washington DC) women in their late 20s whom we invited to join us at our next bar since P knew which bars to go to. After talking a lot to them about being liberal (ha ha P), the worry of teens today in America, acting, their jobs as journalists and our travels, one of them finally felt comfortable enough to point out, "I noticed you 2 right away at The Duke." "Really?" I felt flattered, "Was it because I was laughing and applauding so loudly for the actors?" "No..." she answered, "It was because you were the only one not drinking a pint!" I looked down at my pitiful vodka and orange juice - "I don't drink beer," I replied suddenly un poco self-conscious. As a matter of fact, it took me 6 drinks (a record for me) the whole evening to get a buzz - 6 drinks for a lightweight like me is insane! I should have been pulled off the floor and dumped into an ambulance for that many drinks!!! But in Ireland those stingy bastards measure out the smallest shot of hard liquor in their drinks for the few of us who don't drink beer that I felt nothing for so long. AND those weak, wimpy drinks, by the way, STILL ran us about $10 each!! Holy Frijoles!!

I must admit that by the end of the night I felt a little loopy and we said our goodbyes as the pubs close at 11:30 or so - a HUGE surprise to me! I never would have expected that. P was in a rush to get back to the hotel - not only for the freezing wind but as he warned, "In a few minutes hundreds of people will be spilling out of the pubs, drunk, and with nothing better to do than to pick a fight." "Let them try.." I giggled dizzily making fists and 'putting up my dukes'. Thus back to our penthouse with a quick stop for some late night snacks and some TV before hitting the hay exhausted.

The next day we stopped at a bagle bar another overpriced breakfast served by some nice Polish girls. Them we bought tickets for the uber-touristy double decker bus. With 21 stops (we only did about half) our driver was very funny and it is a great way to hear the history of the city and certain buildings and areas. One can get off at any stop for another bus will come along every few minutes. Time was running out on us (and thank GOD P had previously been to the Guinness Brewery so we didn't have to go - besides the line was huge). We got off and walked through Temple Bar - pity we didn't get to go to the bars in that area the previous night. We saw a couple bachelor parties going from pub to pub with the lucky man wearing a dress and freezing his arse off. (By the way - these were starting as early as 11am or so and would go on drinking the rest of the day). Since we were not going to be drinking anymore or shopping and we were leaving back the USA early the next morning we went back to the car and drove back north to County Down for our last dinner and tea before heading out the next morning to the airport.

And with this last Quote I finish narrating my first of many trips to Ireland :)

From Brandon (The Protestant), a drinking buddy of Patrick's dad:
"Have you had a Guinness yet, Elsa?" he inquired my 2nd day over lunch.
"I actually don't plan on having any. I don't like beer," I replied as
politely as possible.
"Guinness..." he breathed in, replying slowly so that I coudl really be affected, "is not a beer..."

Click on slideshow below:

Ireland - Day 8 - Dublin

Ireland - Day 7 - Newgrange, Knowth

Alas, on Day 6, we meant to drive up north to the Giant's Causeway - but were rather tired of being stuck in a car. So we opted to stay at home in Warrenpoint with Patrick's mother (I am sure she appreciated seeing more of us anyway). It was a relaxing, nice day.

Friday, Day 7, we set out on the road, newly refreshed, to visit the World Heritage Sites of Newgrange and Knowth in County Meath. We spent a couple hours first looking at the well-done museum, and then finally boarding shuttle buses that took us to the 2 different sites. These are stone-age passage tombs that are about 500 years older than the Pyramids (!). They are both big circular mounds of earth and stone. We first went to the smaller Knowth. The mound of earth was encircled by faint carved stones of varying designs. Amazingly, those stones contain one-fourth of all known megalithic art in Europe! With 2 passages facing the east and west for lunar reasons, many of the artwork on the 127 stones could represent lunar counts and calculations. Surrounding Knowth were 18 smaller satellite mounds. Unlike Newgrange which is larger, and we were allowed to go inside - I preferred Knowth for it's quantity of art.

After an informative guided tour and free time to walk around (even on top of the mound!) and explore we all headed back on a shuttle bus to take us to nearby Newgrange. One of the world's most famous ancient monuments (built around 3150 BC)it also has the engraved stones (97 compared to 127 at Knowth). Legend says that the foundations of Christianity were laid here.

Its major attraction is that on the Winter Solstice, the light of the rising sun enters the roofbox and penetrates the passage, shining onto the floor of the inner chamber. The sunbeam illuminates the chamber for just 17 minutes. They actually have a drawing in the Visitor Centre for this - and we promptly dropped our names in. They only allow 100 people a year over the course of 5 days to enter the very narrow passage and see it. Did I mention 'narrow'?? Our guide led us in groups of 16 inside - and warned us that those who are claustrophobic should stay at the back in case they need to head back out right away. I shot P an apprehensive look - I hate it but I do get claustrophobic at times. But being the BigShot I am, I led the group in right behind P and the guide - shoot, it got pitch dark instantly and the ceiling lowered as we squeezed through the narrowest part of the passage, I felt a surge of panic when I couldn't even see P right in front of me. But I continued on and it opened up to a SMALL, circular chamber where the guide explained how the Solstice worked by pressing a button that shown a light made to copy the real thing. It was very impressive - I am told - because I was behind a bunch of tall Germans and couldn't see the floor! It is amazing that with simple stone technology, these wonderful people captured a very significant astronomical and calendrical moment in a most spectacular way!

Click on Slideshow below

Ireland - Day 7 - Newgrange, Knowth

Not OUR Fred!!!

I flipped out today when I saw this article on MSN.com regarding a basset hound who turned up hundreds of miles away from his home. For those of you who don't daily read my blogs, Patrick, my boyfriend, has a basset hound (see link) and we have always commented that even though he loves us if he ever got out free, he'd follow that big hound nose after some scent and leave us behind foever. Read the article below (and check out the name!!!!)



FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. – A basset hound that somehow found its way about 430 miles east of its home in Riverside, Calif. is about to be reunited with its family.

The basset hound, named Fred, was found by an employee Wednesday evening in the parking lot of the Second Chance Center for Animals in Flagstaff, Ariz.

The next morning, staff members found a microchip in Fred that allowed them to figure out that the dog was registered at Riverside County Animal Control in Southern California. The shelter contacted Fred's speechless owner on Friday.

The owner said Fred disappeared after she moved to Riverside in December. She didn't know how he could have ended up in Flagstaff.

Paul Fink, a veterinarian at the Flagstaff shelter and a licensed pilot, has offered to fly Fred home to his family.

Ireland - Day 5 - County Clare and a lot of rain

After our very athletic day on the Island we took the last ferry and then drove to Galway. A university city, we saw plenty of youth at the pubs in the fun main street of town as we searched for parking and then a B&B. Exhausted we finally found one on the end of Nun’s Island off the center of town. The rate was great, the married couple who owned it: extremely hospitable and the room was ridiculously comfortable and nice. We were so tired and grateful. After hot showers and tea we were so tired that P fell asleep at 8pm as I flipped through the TV. I could see he was better off getting some sleep so I didn’t wake him as planned to hit the town and soon crashed myself.

The next morning we hit the road again towards North County Clare. On the way we stopped to meet up with his cousin “Paddy” – a real old-school Irish gentleman bachelor. Paddy is in his 60s, races horses and grey hounds, speaks Irish and English and is of a most amiable nature – I can see why Patrick keeps in touch with him. It was a pleasant meeting.

After that we drove along the coast through the Burren (“great rock”). The Burren are huge slabs of deeply fissured limestone. There is a noticeable absence of trees and greenery here. But even with the uncooperative weather we could see its rough beauty. Unfortunately we didn’t see the blooming flora and fauna from the Mediterranean, Arctic and Alpine regions that grow there on the rocks (evidently brought by migrating birds) that attracts visitors. The weather was just being difficult. After pulling over and climbing the rocks and watching the pounding sea we continued onwards, stopping to eat at the touristy but quaint Kilrush before checking out the surf town of Lahinch - Patrick enjoys surfing when he has the chance. I had no idea that the Irish surf by the way! He he he.

Finally we arrive at our destination along with many tourist buses to the Cliffs of Moher. We were very disappointed that not only had it rained all morning during our drive but now there was a thick fog that completely enveloped the spectacular cliffs. We couldn’t see more than 5 feet ahead of us!! Instead of seeing the majestic 650 feet cliffs rising above the Atlantic, we and many other tourists had to be happy perusing the gift shop and information center. Such a shame. Eventually there was nothing else to do but start our long drive home up to the north and County Down. It was good to be back in Warrenpoint with some fresh soda bread and tea. :)

Ireland Day 4 - Aran Islands (Inis Mor)

After our lovely drive through the Midlands and the West, we finally arrived to the city of Rossaveal where a ferry makes several daily runs back and forth to the 3 Aran Islands that straddle the mouth of Galway Bay in the Atlantic Ocean. This was an incredible treat for both of us (Patrick had never been there yet either).

To give a little history and insight about this must-see attraction, the Aran Islands are pretty much made of limestone rock and form a natural break in the water. The largest of the 3, Inishmore, is the most tourist-oriented and was our destination. It is 9 miles long and 2 miles wide with a population of 800. These islands have, mind-boggling, been inhabited long before recorded history and still contain pre-Christian remains. Another very noteworthy fact is that the islanders speak Irish daily here - this is known as the Gaeltacht (although pretty much all inhabitants were bilingual English speakers as well). It is one of the last places in Ireland where the ancient Celtic language is preserved. As a matter of fact, the Government evidently subsidizes people to live there and to retain and teach the Irish language and traditions.

After a 40 minute ferry ride we docked at the Island's pier. The bad news was that it began to downpour on us. Our previous luck with the weather had run out. It was miserable, cold and wet. Of course, Patrick had scoffed at me packing a small umbrella stating that no one uses them in Ireland. Well, when we found out that we had a 20 minute walk to our B&B would you believe that P actually accepted that dumb umbrella of mine after all??? If that wasn't funny enough, it turned out the umbrella was on it's last leg and broke, blown inside out as P cowered under the pelting rain. ha ha ha!! I took out my camera to record but didn't get too far as my battery died :( See below

As we kept walking (and uphill) to our Bed & Breakfast hostel suddenly a car that drove past us, stopped. We ran forward and jumped in. A kind but sweaty bohemian-type woman about my age coming back from yoga took pity on us in all that rain and drove us the rest of the way to our hostel. So kind. I had never hitched a ride with a stranger before :) Our B&B, the Mainistir House, was economy budget, but colorful with pink, lavender and teal painted walls. Dripping wet, we checked in at the front desk with the owner and supposedly creative and imaginative chef, Joel - a gay Frenchman of African descent.

Well, if one knows me or reads my blogs they know I get along with and enjoy gay men's company. And they 99% of the time adore me. But not bitchy queens. Joel was just that. Bitter and bitchy, he didn't greet us, but took our money and told us where our room upstairs was with a most disinterested air and turned up his nose, not wanting to be of any help, when we asked questions such as what pub plays traditional Irish music at night. We finally retired to our room where we were elated just to get out of our wet clothes. Upon that I commented to P, "Did you notice how bitchy the owner was??" He agreed that had I been perhaps more cleaned up, I would have gotten my usual reaction from a gay man. Our mood was not enhanced by the continuous pouring rain. Patrick, especially was quite broken up about it stating that is was the worst day of our trip to rain so - because the Islands are meant to be walked and cycled outdoors - they aren't as up-to-date on modern conveniences so there was nothing to do BUT be outdoors. I pleaded with him to keep a positive outlook that hopefully it wouldn't rain the next day, but our night was definitely ruined. We didn't dare step outside in that black rain. There was nothing else to do but go to bed - at 8pm. The next morning, still jet lagged, we awoke very early - before anyone else in the hostel and on the entire Island for that matter. But the good news: it stopped raining! Knowing it could start again at any moment, P rushed me grabbing his camera. Now that we could actually see things and we loved it! The Island was full of small fields separating each other by stone fences called "Famine Walls". These essentially were limestone rocks piled on top of each other during the years of the Great Potato Famine as labour so to earn money for food by the government. The Island was completely delineated by these rock walls. I gazed at them thinking of the hard, physical labour from starving, weak hands and bodies that made these walls many years ago. It was very humbling.

Within these rock-walled properties would usually be some old, abandoned, rotting shelter alongside a newer, more modern one (undoubtedly helped paid for by the Government subsidizing). I mean, the Island is wild, windy and beautiful in it's bleakness, but who would voluntarily live there? - we pondered. Evidently it has long attracted artists, writers, filmmakers, philologists and antiquarians. And that was evident in the artist colonies and shops that we walked past that early morning just past dawn. Interesting to note: we saw no sheep on the island - just cows and horses in the pastures. I point this out because a huge tradition from the island is the Aran Sweater - a traditional sweater knitted from sheared sheep wool and then dyed. First used long ago by the island fisherman, the sweater is made up of different stitches which each family had to represent their own individual sweater.

After a medium walk and P taking tons of early morning pictures, our rumbling stomachs made us return to the hostel. Upon entering we were hot and thirsty and there was a large sign clearly stating, "Free cold drinks" with some arrows pointing to the dining area. We definitely were up for that and I saw Joel at the front desk scribbling on some paper. I approached but patiently waited for him to finish writing. That said, he made me wait a LONG time - to the point that it was awkward. He obviously didn't want to deal with us and seemed clearly irritate by our presence. In fact he never looked up, said good morning or anything outside of raising one eye to look NOT at me but at the small sign next to me that said, "Reception hours 9am - 9pm." It was about 8:30am and he was making it quite clear that he did NOT have to help me with anything at the current time. He even left his post without saying a word and I followed him, slightly annoyed myself at this point, "Your sign says, 'cold drinks'.." I started only to be rudely cut off with a queeny roll of the eyes and muttered, "No!" We couldn't believe his rudeness and vowed to never recommend anyone to his B&B ever. Gay snap to that!!

After a bland but free breakfast with a bunch of noisy French families who kept stealing our toasts in the toaster - we left again this time to rent bikes at the pier. This is the major tourist thing to do. I love riding bikes and rarely do so - although some of the hills proved to be a little tough for my old man. We set off on the small road that goes around the entire island and stopped off at places, buildings or ruins of interest. The island was definitely beautiful - very different than all the other more modern places on the mainland. But I wouldn't stay for more than a day and a half there. One doesn't need to. Within a few hours we had biked to everything worth seeing and had leisurely taken our pictures. It was fun and definitely worth the hard work when we had the ascents to peddle or walk our bikes up. Inis Mor has 4 perfectly preserved Celtic stone forts. My favorite was the spectacular triple-walled fort of Dun Aengus. It is supposedly one of Europe's finest prehistoric monuments dating somweher between 4000 and 1000 BC. (CHEEENGADOOOOOHH that is a long time ago!!!) Sitting on the edge of a 200 foot terrifying cliff that drops into a turbulent but gorgeous sea crashing against the rocks far below - the fort was breath-taking! I am not good around heights and it amazed me that they don't put up some sort of barrier to stop people from slipping to their deaths! Even Patrick was somewhat nervous sitting on the edge of the cliff. I mustered up the courage to get on my knees and peek over the ledge to snap a picture of the crashing Atlantic far below. YIKES!

Alas, our long day came to a close with a stop at the pub for P's pint and the last ferry back to the mainland. Click on slideshow below!

Ireland - Day 3 - Aran Island

A Couple of Irish Asses

If you read the Ireland Day 3 blog, you read about the donkeys who, after being pet and photographed, followed us into our car! I pushed them out, took my seat and they still stuck their heads in my window to seek out goodies! They charmed the pants off me! :)