A Night at The Crane Bar

Last night I was at a pub called The Crane with some friends and their guests from other universities around Europe. The Crane is the most Irish pub I have been to in Galway and there is live traditional music played every night. The performers are not paid or asked to come, they just show up to have a few free pints of the black stuff, display their talents, and enjoy the company of the other patrons. No trip is Galway is complete without a visit to this amazing pub and it never fails to disappoint.
I have been there on nights where the whole music section is packed with amateur performers playing a wide variety of instruments, gleefully bringing the house down. Last night was more subdued however and there were only a handful of performers. There was a fiddler, two behran drummers, a man who switched of between the guitar and the Irish version of a banjo, and a final guitar player. They were all talented musicians and were fun to listen to. Our guests enjoyed it immensely but to be truthful, I have been there during more vibrant nights.


One noticeable absence was that of a traditional Sean Nos singer, or old style singer. When there is a Sean Nos singer the whole bar will become silent every so often to listen to him give a chilling performance. Sean Nos is traditionally sung by men and emphasizes story telling so there is no melody present- it is not music you snap your fingers to. Unlike singing we are used to, Sean Nos is sung from the throat and jowls instead of from the diaphragm which gives it a nasally quality to the sound and there is often dramatic shifts in volume. Listening to it is eerie but rewarding and I really wanted my new friends to experience it.
After a few pints no Sean Nos singer had yet come forward to perform. As I looked around though, I saw a group of older, white bearded Irishmen enjoying some good crack in the corner. One of them looked familiar but I could not figure out how I would know the man. Then it dawned on me that I think I saw him sing Sean Nos while in the small town of Doolin in County Clare. I was not positive but the more I stared the more confident I became. I wanted to hear the songs so I took a chance and when he was free for a moment, I approached him and asked him if he in fact was the singer I had seen. His face lit up in a smile and he replied that he was. I think he was pretty shocked and flattered that some punk American kid would recognize him. I think it is a testament to the music that after almost two months and plenty of travel I was able to recognize this guy though. We talked about his performance back in Doolin and I told him how much I enjoyed it and asked if he would perform tonight. He told me he would love to but it was up to the musicians and I should ask them if he could. I felt weird interrupting the musicians during a song break asking them if my “friend” could sing a song but of course they agreed and from his bar stool the man sang a song. It was dead silent and everyone’s attention was on him. When he finished he got a huge round of applause signalling that everyone enjoyed it. I gave him a pleasant nod of thanks and a raise of my beer and continued on with my night. Deep down though, I did feel a little proud that I was able to contribute to the music of the night, even if only in a very small way.

My Apetite in Belgium

Brussel's main square.

Many things impressed me about Belgium this past weekend. The people were nice, the architecture was imposing and beautiful, and the speed of life was even slower than many of the places around Europe I have so far visited. All of this was second to the food though. Belgium was a culinary delight. I ate and drank like a king and I enjoyed every bite.
I got into Brussels Friday afternoon and met up with my friend from high school. The weather was beautiful and it seemed like the whole town was in the sunlight strolling the cobbled streets, drinking in the many outdoor cafes, or lying in the many city parks (over 15% of the city is dedicated to parkland, the most of any major city in Europe.) Everyone was enjoying life and nobody was in a rush. Usually I like to be full of enthusiasm and get after a city with all the energy I have, but the citizen’s style was infectious and I decided to step back and let the city come to me. We split the day between taking in the baroque architecture and parks and admiring the notoriously strong beer in the cafes. It is a funny feeling to feel a buzz after just two beers. That night we continued sampling beers and both got as many different kinds under our belt without ever trying the same beer twice. Trying every beer in town would have been impossible however because it is said that there are over 400 different Belgium beers in Brussels and we were drinking at a bar called Delirium with 2000 beers available. We ate French fries served in paper cones for dinner, although we topped ours in catsup whereas locals use mayonnaise. French fries were invented in Belgium and are called “French fries” because the potatoes are cut in the “French style,” not because they are French.

My friend Saars and I in Brussels.

The next morning we took a train from French-speaking Brussels an hour north to the quaint Flemish-speaking town of Bruges. Bruges was gorgeous and everything you think of when imagining a small Dutch town. It was another beautiful day and we watched boats and kayakers motor down the canals, saw old windmills on the outskirts of town and tried to stay out of the way of the many horse drawn carriages clopping down the cobbled streets. We sat at outdoor cafes and ate fresh Belgium waffles with ice cream and powdered sugar on top. It really was one of the best things I have tasted. I spread the ice cream into each square of the waffle so that with each bite of the warm fluffy waffle you also tasted the sweet, quickly melting but still cold ice cream. It was way better than the frozen Eggo waffles I am used to at home.

A shot of Bruges.

On Sunday we spent the morning in Bruges and took an early afternoon train back to Brussels so my friend could catch a train back to Italy. I spent the rest of the day walking around and enjoying life. I was scheduled to leave early on Monday morning so I opted to stay up all night instead of getting a bed. Around midnight I walked through a street called Rue des Bouchers, which is a tightly lined street with consecutive, brightly lit seafood restaurants which stretch for a few blocks. During the day each restaurant’s product is displayed on ice in the street and waiters try shuffling you into little tables on the side of the road. Everything is colorful and smells delicious and I envied the people eating each time I passed.

Rue des Bouchers during the day.

By midnight only a few restaurants were still open and I decided to spend money I didn’t have to get an awesome meal. I sat down and ordered what Brussels is known for; a pot of moules, frites, and a strong Belgium beer. That is, a big pot of mussels, a plate of French fries, and obviously, a beer. All around me were large parties drinking, eating mussels, and laughing, and for the first time in a while I missed my family. The food was amazing. When it came I took a moment to sit back and admire the brightly lit meal in front of me and knew I was in for a treat. The mussels were soaked in a wine sauce and as I sucked the juices out of the shell I could still taste the salt from the sea. The meal was large enough for two but I ate the whole thing myself and savored every bite. When I finished paying the bill I walked around the corner to the bar with 2000 beers and had two cold ones to wash the meal down. Around two in the morning I slowly walked through the deserted streets to the station perfectly content with life. Good food is something to cherish.

My awesome late night meal.

Amsterdam

One of the many canals.

Amsterdam has a stereotype in America of being a city of drugs, prostitution and loose morals. It is the fabled land some kids only dream about and I got to visit. Little kids have Disney World and adults have Vegas. College kids have Amsterdam. If anyone reading this thinks I am above the temptation of indulging in these activities which are illegal at home and considered as sinful by some, they are wrong. I celebrated my time in Amsterdam to the fullest and remember some of it.
Amsterdam is a unique city. It isn’t particularly beautiful and the streets are dirty. There isn’t a long list of attractions to see and most of them are overrated anyways. The weather isn’t great and it rains all the time. What’s cool about Amsterdam is its people and their attitude towards things. It has always been a city of trade and the monarchy has never been allowed to stand in the way of making money. Right or wrong, the Dutch love their money and are willing to put up with a lot to get it. They go by what was explained to me as plausible deniability. Plausible deniability is how people can get away with anything as long as it doesn’t involve hurting anyone, they are discreet about it, and most importantly, that they are spending money. Pretty much anything goes if these guidelines are adhered to.

Some of the guys I was traveling with to the left.

I went with a friend from high school and ten of his favorite fraternity buddies from back home. They are all nice enough guys individually but in a group they are a little too much to handle and stood out like the group of stupid stoned Americans they were. They didn’t quite understand the three rules of plausible deniability either. They weren’t ever discreet, didn’t spend much money when loitering in the cafes and although they didn’t physically hurt anyone, nobody around them enjoyed their presence. This being said, I spent a lot of the time on my own wandering around the canal belt and visiting sights. It is sometimes called the Venice of the north and for good reason. Houseboats line the banks and there are many quaint outdoor restaurants and cafes. This paired with the unique, tall, narrow houses provides for great strolls but getting turned around is easy. As mentioned previously, I visited the Anne Frank House and also the Heineken Experience. It turns out the Heineken Experience is equally boring and pointless as the Guinness tour and yet I’m sure I will be persuaded to go on another painful brewery tour before I leave this continent.

They pull 20,000 bikes out of the canal a year.

I had to get one in here of myself.

I am also happy I visited Amsterdam now for another reason. The Netherlands aren’t happy with the city’s reputation and feel it is an embarrassment to their name so they are taking steps to close the red light district. They have been closing coffee shops, have made psychedelic mushrooms illegal, and they have closed a third of the prostitute windows all in the last year. By July 1st half of the remaining prostitutes will have been shut down and more changes are expected. The city as I got to know it will not be there in a couple years so if you have any long felt desire to go there and experience the madness for yourself you’d better hurry. I wouldn’t want to live there but visiting it was awesome. Right or wrong, people enjoy more freedoms to do as they like more than any other place I have visited. They are extremely friendly people, even towards inexperienced American tourists, and nobody judges others based on the choices they have made. I’m sure there are many people in Oak Park that would applaud their free spirit lifestyle and their acceptance of other people, cultures, and art. The place is insane. I’m glad I can go back to school and tell my friends I made it to the fabled land.

The ugliest grand palace I have ever seen.

An update from Amsterdam

So I have been in Amsterdam for two days now and have finally had time to get myself out of the cafes and spend some time alone exploring this unique city. Amsterdam's central city is focused around a ring of canals and getting around takes time to get used to. It is easy to get turned around and not have a clue as to where you went wrong. City trams and bicycles are also trying to kill you on the streets so paying attention is important which isn't always easy. Everyone rides a bike and they are everywhere.
Today I visited to the Anne Frank Home where she hid from the Nazis and wrote in her now famous journal. Even in the rain the line to get in was long and it took a half hour to get in. The inside of her hideout doesn't take long to walk through but it was a sobering experience. She was a very insightful girl from what I could tell.
I also walked around the famous red light district. It is something else. Prostitutes of every kind stand in little rooms and flirt with passing people to get them to come in. It is weird seeing bars, peep shows, and coffee shops all there next to each other on this beautiful canal with swans and houseboats. The Dutch really celebrate their free sprit. I got to go get back on the streets.

The Aran Islands

Action shot on my bike.

On Saturday I travelled to the Aran Islands with a group of kids from Marquette to see what the place is like. They are a set of three islands off the coast in Galway Bay. The Aran Islands have an interesting history. I will give a two second recap about why they are worth visiting.
Until the 1930’s, the islands were completely untouched by the rest of the world and life existed like it had for hundreds of years before without any technological advances. People lived short lives fishing and farming wherever they could to survive. Then around the 1920’s, Ireland revolted against the English and got their own country. They still hated the English though and wanted to separate themselves as much as possible. This was hard to do however because there are no obvious differences between the two people. They are both pasty white people who predominantly speak English. So, in order to distinguish themselves as Irish, they did everything they could to encourage people to value the opposite things the English valued. Everything from language, literature, clothing, music and sport were evaluated and changed to counteract English influences. This is called culture nationalism and is just about the only new thing I have learned about in school.

The fort of Dun Aengus dates back to the bronze age. (about 3500 years ago)

I just thought this was a cool shot.

Well, the English valued industrialization, technology, and progress so the Irish decided to value hard work, rural living, and backwards progress. All the popular stereotypes that exist today about Ireland came from this era. Right or wrong, the creators of Irish cultural nationalism found the perfect mold for this new image on the west coast of Ireland and in particular the Aran Islands. They completely left out how horrible the islanders had it and romanticized their lives saying their way of life embodied the true nature of Ireland. Artists, tourists, and politicians visited the islands to understand how they lived. Ironically, this pilgrimage to the islands made the locals give up farming and speaking Irish until all that was left was tourism and that is where I come in.
We took a ferry across that took 40 minutes and rented bikes when we got there. Riding was slow with so many people and it rained most of the morning. Still, it was fun to dick around and watch the country role by. I decided I would never want to live there after the first few minutes. The land is incredibly barren and harsh. It is hard to imagine anything prospering there. We rode to an abandoned light house where the views were supposed to be spectacular but all we got was fog. Climbing through the ruins was entertaining though especially when we found the animals. People let their livestock wander anywhere within a series of stone walls so we found a pony and some steers living in and around the building. They eat anything they can find which isn’t much because everything is rock. There wouldn’t even be grass there if the stone walls didn’t keep the soil from blowing away. All the soil that is there was made by the islanders with sea weed. Obviously, these islands are in no way utopias.

These cows were at the lighthouse and were getting it on. Laughter ensued.

We also saw abandoned churches, ancient cliff-side forts, and ruins of one room homes which could have been occupied by 20 or more people hundreds of years ago. It was all cool to see especially after hearing so much about it from my professors. Any way you cut it, life must have been miserable there before tourists moved in and it is still pretty bland now. I’m glad I saw it first hand though if only to appreciate the hardships people faced and the complete misinterpretation the founders of the modern state of Ireland made regarding the place. Like America and every country, Ireland values an idea of its past that isn’t entirely accurate. In some sense I used to hold this against America, somehow feeling like society was blinded by our own self-admiration and glorification of the past. Through traveling frequently in the past few years I have forgiven America though and realized the rest of the world is just as full of shit. Ireland is no different but I don’t hold it against them. Well, that’s enough of my personal views and teaching lesson. Next stop, Amsterdam…

Me on a stone wall.

London, Home of Austin Powers, baby!

Big things poppin' near Big Ben

London is a great city. I was there for almost five full days and I really think that I got a good feel for the streets and the people. The first couple of days I did touristy things. I walked around the center of town where the major monuments and the things you think of when thinking of London are located. I saw Parliament and the famous Big Ben Tower (Big Ben is actually the bell, not the tower,) Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guards, Tower Bridge, the London Eye (it was grossly overpriced so I didn’t take a ride) and Westminster Abbey. I also took a free walking tour which informed me about all these places and on the city in general. It was all very cool and impressive but to be honest, there is only so much I can say about landmarks and after seeing so many famous places I am becoming a little bit jaded by it all.
The thing I found most interesting about London was that they didn’t care if I was there or not. Unlike other cities I have been to, London does not rely on tourism. It is and probably always will be a thriving premier center of business, culture, and style. Yes, there are sections of town devoted to a single focus point, but for the most part, the residents work, play, live and shit in the same area much like my beloved Chicago does. It has its own cool unique thing going on which doesn’t have to cater to me, the tourist, so as one, I was able to float around observing and taking part in everyday life as Londoners see it, and it turns out, I kind of like the way they live.

My one delicious treat at Portobello Market.

For instance, Saturday morning I woke up after a long night of drinking at some random person’s apartment on the east side of the city and walked 45 minutes west to where my friends were staying. Once we met up we got a “full English breakfast” from the small shop on the corner and I walked with them to the Underground Station so they could head to the airport. I then walked west through Hyde Park and watched joggers jog, kids play, equestrians ride, and wanderers wander all without getting a second look I often do when someone realizes I’m a tourist.
I got to the end of Hyde Park and walked into the neighbourhood of Notting Hill to wander through the weekly street market called Portobello Market. This market was filled with people going up and down the street buying antiques, clothes, fruits, vegetables, meat and anything else you can think of. It was so cool! It is not to be missed. Stands were selling food all over the place and I felt like crying because I wanted to devour it all so bad but had no money to spare. Halfway through I realized I was incredibly jealous of all these people. I was jealous that they had money to spend and I didn’t, I was jealous they were with friends and I wasn’t, and I was jealous they had cool, labeless clothes and I was decked out in North Face (my one tell tale sign of being American.) Most of all, I was jealous that they could come back next Saturday and I couldn’t. It is such a neat outlet for them to explore just for exploring sake itself.

Ya, I took a picture with a red phone booth.

Tower Bridge is actually way out of the way for most tourists.

I explored another cool area Sunday night called Leicester Square. I was looking for a place to see a movie before leaving for the airport and while walking through Chinatown I stumbled upon this square where all the major movies premier in London. The theatre is huge but it is also surrounded by other theatres, clubs, restaurants and bars. Even though it was a Sunday night the place was buzzing and locals were everywhere enjoying themselves. The coolest part about it was that nowhere in this huge attraction area was a single souvenir shop, tourist information center, or guided tour going on. They didn’t even have a Planet Hollywood Restaurant around! This area was completely devoted to catering to the people of London.

I suspect that even though I walked everywhere for five days in all directions of the city I still missed out on a lot of cool things. Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally aware that like any city there are inevitable shady areas I did not see. The many miles I did cover however were awesome and there were so many restaurants, theatres, hotels and events I missed out on. London is a great place to visit but I suspect it would be ten times cooler if my wallet was ten times thicker. I had so much fun as it was, (I took advantage of a ton of free museums) but I can imagine doing some real damage if I had some real money to blow. The city stands on its own and has a ton of fun in the process and doesn’t ask anything from me except to have a great time. That’s what I did and hopefully I will have a chance to do it again.

Trafalgar Square.