Fish and Stuff in Monterey

Part One: Art and Stuff in San Francisco

After a few days in San Jose, The Husband finished up his work, and we began vacationing in earnest. The first item on our agenda was the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Before we even made it into the aquarium, we spotted a few of these cute little guys lounging in the bay.



There was plenty more cuteness to be had inside.







Are frogs cute? I at least thought these were.



There was also incredible gorgeousness to be enjoyed.













My favorite, however, was the "Outer Bay" tank, which was filled with all manner of giant fish and terrifying sharks lurking in the murky darkness. The murky darkness was very atmospheric but was a bitch to photograph. I promise this is a very impressive hammerhead shark.



They also had a great white shark, but they've since released it back into the ocean since it wasn't eating. I'm pretty sure this is it, but who can tell? Unfortunately this rather representative of my shark photography.



On the way back to San Francisco, the fog rolled in.



We didn't let that stop us from enjoying the boardwalk in Santa Cruz.

Art and Stuff in San Francisco

Last Friday was the annual Festivus celebration complete with miniature Festivus pole party favors. Although I was feeling sickly and left before the feats of strength, I did stay long enough to have a grievance aired against me. Sealegs has an issue with the fact that I take a billion photos and promise to email them to people and post them on the internet when I actually just walk around with a billion pictures in my camera that no one ever sees.

Wishing to address this grievance I emailed Sealegs the Halloween and Christmas tree chopping pictures I owed her and am now finally posting the photos from San Fransisco. Well, considering I took over 415 pictures during a four day trip I may just be getting a start posting the best 100 or so. What I lack in talent, I make up for in sheer quantity.

At the end of August The Husband had a business trip to San Jose, and since I was unemployed and had nowhere else to be, I tagged along, and we made a long weekend of it. The first couple of days The Husband had to work, so I drove into San Fransisco to wander around on my own.

The first place I checked out was the San Fransisco Museum of Craft + Design. It was very cool, but quite tiny, so I was glad I didn't go out of my way to visit it. I probably saw the whole thing in great detail in about 20 minutes.











Then I headed over to Chinatown, which was just a few blocks away. It wasn't the picture-taking treasure trove I thought it would be. I don't know if it was the self-guided tour I was taking (which mostly seemed to point out places to buy stuff) or what, but I was just not digging the vibe of Chinatown at all. The staggering concentration of tacky souvenir shops alone was rather off putting. After wandering around for an hour or two, I was hot and sunburned, and I just wanted a plain iced tea without gooey bubbles or sugary, creamy crap in it and a place to sit down. Unfortunately, I was denied.







I was, however, determined to get my Asian culture on, so I inched my way through San Francisco traffic to the Asian Art Museum. I arrived about three hours before closing, and I still wished I had more time to spend there. Generally everything is better with The Husband around, but I was glad I came here by myself so I could take as much time as I wanted to peer intently at each object. I seriously could have spent an hour in each of the 30 rooms.





Made of a real human skull:

















At this point, Blogger is giving me all sorts of attitude about uploading pictures, so I'll pick up later with our excursion to the Monterrey Bay Aquarium, the Santa Cruz boardwalk, and other delightful Bay-area attractions.

Going Down To Liverpool

We last left half of our protagonists in a Dublin tour bus taking blurry photographs. The other half were lost in the mean Irish streets.

We all reunited in the airport to catch our Ryan Air flight to Liverpool. Ryan Air sells super cheapo no-frills flights which limit passengers to 1.5 ounces of carry on luggage provided it will fit inside a Tic Tac container. In order to comply, we bought a duffel bag and rented a locker in the Dublin airport to jettison as much extra weight as possible. That morning the excellently helpful bed and breakfast owner even loaned us her bathroom scale so we could confirm that we were within the weight limits. Of course this completely ensured that no one at the airport bothered to glance at our luggage, let alone weigh it. Bah. Whatever.

In Liverpool, we caught a cab to our rented flat. Our driver was a bit strange, and the conversation veered into threats of bodily harm, which kind of made sense as a joke at the time but still.

Somewhere around this time I quit writing notes in my journal, so the chronology breaks down a bit in my mind. Feel free to correct me. I'm sure much of the confusion stems from the alcohol-induced brain damage incurred during a night on the town with the way-cooler-than-me Gail.

We started at the Jacaranda where the Beatles got their start. It was amateur night, or something like that, and I was really enjoying the music and the atmosphere. But, it got hot and crowded, so we moved on, and the night quickly devolved into drunken absurdity. There was kung-fu fighting involved. It kind of looked like this at points.





The whole next day was lost to an epic hangover. The Husband, Gail, Sealegs, and Ponylagoon (or your preferred webonym), however, went on a field trip and had losts of fun without Traivor and me. Traivor at least got out of bed and left the flat at some point. I was prone until sundown.

Some time after my not dying, we visited Chinatown and took an amphibious city tour on the Yellow Duckmarine. We saw a bunch of stuff like this and then went home. And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the end of this story that started a mere seven and a half months ago.

Ireland: Day Oh So Long Ago

So I get this serious urge to revive the old blog, and then I find myself completely blocked. What's up with that? Anyway, I thought I'd pull a post out of the way back basket and wrap up the Ireland epic. Maybe I can finish it up during the same calendar year we actually took the trip.

Day Whatever-It-Is-Now began with a visit to Newgrange, one of the prehistoric passage tombs in County Meath.







Photos inside the tomb were forbidden, but I nabbed some off the Super Web.





On the winter solstice, the sun streams into a small opening just above the door and floods the heart of the tomb with light for the only time all year.



Next we drove into Dublin and, due to a total failure of modern communication technology, lost half our traveling party. We didn't have much time before we were due to catch a plane for Liverpool, so we decided to maximize our sightseeing minutes and seconds by taking a bus tour of the city and worry about catching up with everyone else at the airport. Unfortunately, the only visual representation of this portion of our journey is a bunch of blurry photos of dimly remembered churches and civic structures half obscured by trees and light posts. So, never mind about that.

Next! On to Liverpool.

Ireland: Day 5

This morning we checked out the Carrickfergus Castle, an intimidating, massive, and not particularly charming castle. Although not picturesque, the castle was full of mannequins enacting scenes from daily life in the middle ages, including the king taking a royal dump.

















From there we drove into Belfast and found a Black Taxi Tour - basically a private tour for a small group with a knowledgeable driver who explained the history of the conflict in Northern Ireland, gave us some perspective on what life is like today in Belfast, and answered any questions we had. I was really impressed with how unbiased he was. We tried to speculate as to whether he was Catholic or Protestant, but we couldn't tell.

First he took us to a Protestant neighborhood to see some of the murals on the homes and buildings. Some of them depict historical scenes, while others are memorials to those who died in the conflict. One of the murals was in remembrance of a member of one Protestant militia group who was murdered by a different Protestant group. Sometimes it seems like the human capacity for discord and violence is endless. I also noticed racist graffiti and stickers in one of the neighborhoods we walked in. Seriously, why can't we all just get along?

























Then we traveled into a Catholic neighborhood where the driver showed us some of the memorial gardens that the communities have established.







There's a huge wall between the Protestant and Catholic areas of the city. You can see here where the government has installed grates on the back of the houses near the wall because people on the other side will lob bricks and bottles, which were breaking windows and landing in homes.



Despite the relative peace for the last 14 years, the wall is being built taller and stronger all the time. Our guide seemed to think the wall contributed greatly to that peace, rather than any deep sense of love and understanding among the populace. According the driver, even streets that aren't behind walls are largely segregated, and Catholics and Protestants lead mostly separate lives within Belfast.





This graffiti stands for "kill all taigs," a slur against the Catholics. There's definitely still at least some anger between the two sides. It makes me hopeful though, that a new generation is coming of age without having experienced the bombings and killings.



These are murals by the Catholics in honor of other oppressed (or "oppressed" depending on your political leanings) peoples around the world with whom the Catholics identify and feel affinity, such as the Cubans, Basques, Palestinians, and Iraqis.









The Catholics also created murals commemorating their dead in the conflict, such as these in honor of Bobby Sands and other hunger strikers who died protesting the treatment of Catholic political prisoners.





As our guide kept reminding us, people on both sides fought, killed, and died for their lives and freedom and homes because they believed what they were doing was right. I left Northern Ireland with the sense that many were also striving for peace, and I hope they prevail.