Vacances: fevrier

Ah. Vacation at last. Although I've only been student teaching for...3 weeks? I am welcoming this vacation. My poor feet are also loving this time spent in sneakers. And I'm sure my car doesn't mind not starting at 6:45 every weekday.
So far I've managed to sleep in a little, play a lot of computer games, pig out a little bit, read a lot, work a little, and go to my little cousin's birthday party. And I had a nice little Valentine's Day with my boyfriend, who made us baked ziti and bought me a book I've wanted for a while but is no longer in print (and tons of chocolate). For the both of us I bought a little rose plant, which I have not yet killed and I'm hoping to keep alive for a while. I'm definitely not known for my green thumb, and have killed quite a few plants in the past. But I've wanted one of these for a while. I've remembered to water it regularly and I move it around my place to give it as much light as possible.
I've also listened to Edith Piaf a lot (there's a reason she was wicked famous in both France and the US). If you don't know who she is, watch the movie "Le Vie en Rose". It's in French, but you can subtitle it. The funniest part in it, when she gets to the states and she's talking with a Frenchman and an American. They all speak French, but the american accent of that guy is hilarious.

Unfortunately, my hives have not gone on vacation. As I'm writing this I have one slowly growing over my left eyebrow. It hasn't traveled down under my eye yet, which is the worst because my eye swells and closes up a bit and I look like Quasimodo. So my plans for later tonight are a couple of benadryls and a glass of champagne so both myself and my hives are knocked, at least for the night.

Back to the student teaching. I am actually starting to like the high school. I'm getting to know the kids better and for the most part they're being good little children for me. I only have three weeks left there and I am really excited to go back to the middle school, and I know the transition to me teaching at the middle school will go smoother than it did at the high school. Although, my second week I became a full-teacher. That Monday my cooperating teacher called in sick, she had pulled out her back. So I made it through one day. Then Tuesday she called to say she wouldn't be in until the next Tuesday. I was thrown off guard a little and had to totally wing it for two of the classes. I think they noticed that but they went along with whatever I did. That next Tuesday was tough though. I needed my teacher back to tell me the specifics of the things I was trying to teach (most importantly details on projects three of the classes were working on). But giving up three of the classes was not easy. Then on Wednesday during French 1, which I was supposed to have already taken over and I had until then, she just took over and taught the class. Needless to say I was pissed. On Friday she started to do it again and was about to go over an activity that I had assigned when I actually stood up and said, It's ok. I've got this one. And I've warned her that when we get back the two French 2 classes need to be mine, and the week after that the French 4 (and final) class will be mine as well. Hopefully it'll go better.
I had my university supervisor do a formal observation while she was out. Monday or Tuesday when we get back my coop teacher needs to do her first. Then the week after will be my other supervisor observation. And within my last two weeks my final coop teacher observation and her final evaluation. Fun. So at some point this week I need to figure out which classes I want observed and which standards I want them to look for (each observation has to cover three of the six). Oh and I have to actually write the lesson plans for the these classes. Haha. I'll think about that later.

Now it's time for some more leftovers and an episode of House (which I am quickly falling in love with, thank you Netflix).

Bon soir monde,
a plus tard.

Candy and an Essay

Although I have thought many a time of creating a new post over the last year, I haven't. Until now. Why now? I'm on winter vacation. And I have to write a big-ass essay. Le français est-il seulement la langue des français? Is French the language of only the French? 1200 - 2400 words. I have 425. Why do I have to write about French? Because, silly me, after 16 years of school I'm not quite ready to be done, so I'm going on for a Master's. That looks a little intimidating written out. But my preferred college requires a damn essay with the application and 2-hour online placement test. I really don't see the need for a sizable essay as well as a placement test, but they decide who goes, so I do what I'm told.
Unfortunately I'm a horrible procrastinator and decided to write a blog when I should in fact be trying to punch out another 10 or so words tonight. I'll blame work. I've somewhat recently come to almost hate my job, and I get excited just knowing that someday this year I'll hopefully be quitting. I come home nearly every day tired and road-raging and angry. I hate customers, I hate driving there and back, the job has nothing to do with what I'm trying to do with my life, and some of the higher ups piss me off a lot. But anyways...
I'm getting excited, nervous and dreadful as the days pass. I'm student teaching this semester, and my practicum time spent in the high school where I'll be was not the best of times for me. My cooperating teacher is a native speaker, which kind of scares the hell out of me and makes me all nervous. Plus most of the kids are my height or taller, and they're high schoolers. I hated highschoolers when I was in high school, but at least I was there with everything. Now I feel like I'm far enough away to not get the trends and shit, but too close to observe them objectively. Maybe it's just the town I'm in, but what the hell are they thinking with their clothes and hair. I can't begin to explain. But again, I've never really been up on fashion and have always preferred what I think looks nice on me and what I'm comfortable in. There are a few styles out there that I could totally rock...but it's not me, so I don't even try. Another thing, the world language teachers live on a teacher's salary (not that great but amazing compared to a part-time job), and so they all shop at some semi-expensive store. So I just went out and blew over $100 because I've never seen them wear the same thing more than twice, and I could get 3 -4 weeks out of my wardrobe. And while at JCPenney's, I was jumping up and down on the inside to find some nice sweaters for $10 and khaki's for $20. Who the hell can afford $60 shirts? Not me.
So in other words, I feel a little intimidated at this high school, so I'm coming to dread going back a little bit and having to take over. Or trying to, seeing as last semester I never really got the opportunity to. Luckily I'm starting during mid-terms so I'll be there when they start new material, which I'm looking at as a good thing. And at some point I can tell my cooperating teacher to take a hike for a period or three.
Totally random subject change...The church near my house is playing 'O Holy Night' on it's bells. I'm assuming they're electronic. It's nice that they play music though, I like hearing Christmas-time songs once a night after Christmas. As long as it's winter I'm up for decorations and trees and wreaths. It makes freezing your ass off a little less...bitter and highly fucking annoying. I hate winter, by they way.
It's now after 9 and I really should attempt something for my essay. I'm really not sure if I'll make the 1200 words, so I may have to go back and split up sentences and add some nice fluff, which is much easier to do in one's native language, but I'm not bad at it in French. I guess that's why I'm going for a Master's though.

Fourth (and final) Leg: Italia (I)

Walking into the terminal we were smiling, and if we had learned how to say it before-hand, we would’ve looked at each other and laughed, ‘io non parlo italiano.’ Evidently it’s ridiculously easy to get into Italy from EU members: they merely have to flash their passport, and not even the picture page, to the customs officer and they get waved through. Although the non-EU line was much shorter it took a little longer because they actually look at our passports and stamp them. When we got our bags I noticed that mine was open at the top, it was probably because it was too full. I later found out that the only things missing were the towel I stole from Paris, and a long-sleeved shirt I had bought in Orléans… not a big loss though.

We were supposed to be meeting Dee’s friend Alex (Alessandro) at the airport. As we were leaving the arrival area and baggage claim to the sea of faces that always awaits, I was looked every where for a girl who’s face I didn’t know when suddenly I heard, ‘Dany!’ I turned and saw Dee hugging a gorgeous Italian girl… so I supposed that was Alex. I supposed right. She drove us to her place, which was a (I think) rather chic apartment with her mom and older sister. When she first picked us up she didn’t remember a lot of English, but by the time we left she was translating for her friends. Her mom doesn’t speak any English, but damn can she make pizza. She made us two pizzas that night. The first was all right: thick-crust with no cheese or regular pizza sauce. I don’t really remember the topping, but it was a little burned. The second however… Again, thick crust, no cheese or sauce, but smothered in peppers that tasted like they had been slow-roasted for hours in deliciousness.

After dinner we got to call our families to let them know we had made it ok. Then Alex made some calls and asked if we wanted to go meet some of her friends. We had about an hour and a half until they picked us up, so we put in a little internet time, then set to work learning some basic Italian: io ho fame/sierto, io sonno stanca, io studio francese e educazzione, and io non parlo italiano. Translations: I am hungry/ thirsty, I am tired, I study French and education, and I don’t speak Italian. We brought along our little paper of phrases and our French-Italien dictionary when we went out.

I guess the Italien idea of hanging out is crazily-driving to a parking lot and meeting your friends there. We met quite a few people that first night, but I really only remember three of them: Frenchie (Francesco), Giorgio, and Genie (Genero). However many of them there was, we laughed a lot at not being able to understand each other. Most of them had at least rudimentary English skills, but Frenchie and Genie could speak pretty well so they and Alex helped translate. The funniest part had to be when one of them tried to say an English phrase or expression. For example, we said our feet were frozen, like ice cream. Frenchie took that and said ‘your feet are like ice cream?’ Then Genie went way off and came in with, ‘ cheese ice cream?’ Frenchie took this back into ‘you have cheese ice cream feet?’ We also learned a few slang and dialect terms that I won’t repeat here.

After quite some time in this parking lot, everyone agreed that we were cheese ice-cream feet so we left. But we weren’t going right home. They wanted to give us a little taste of Napoli first, so we were driven around for a while (I swear it takes 20 minutes to get any where no matter how fast they drive). We stopped at a little patisserie/ ice cream shop. They bought us croissants, but they weren’t just plain ones. They were warmed up and inside they spread both regular nutella and white nutella. Strange. Finally they brought us home sometime in the morning and we slept our first night in Italia.

Dublin (IV)

Unfortunately we couldn’t laze around and be hung-over in our beds all day because it was our last day in that hostel. We were supposed to be leaving Dublin that day, but for some reason I had accidentally booked our flight a day later. So after a hot shower, we headed over to the hostel we had booked at 12€ each for our extra night. We took another little nap there, not really caring how actually… sketchy it was. After the nap we had to get out, plus, we were hungry. A little stroll through what appeared to be a business section because everything was closed, and we found ourselves staring at the menus outside of the ‘Mona Lisa’s’. Now those Irish people know how to lake garlic ciabatta bread. I could’ve eaten three of them and had that as my meal. But I also had lasagne, and even better it was a student special. Right next to the restaurant was a little cinema… pourquoi pas? Inside there was as sign that read, “In the interest of hygiene please refrain from placing tickets in your mouth”. I took of a picture of it, and it’s being loaded onto photobucket as I type this up. We ended up seeing Eastern Promise, which was really good, with Viggo Mortensen and Naomi Watts. At one point Dee gasped really loudly, and the entire audience (maybe 20 people), myself include, were laughing at her.

Still not wanted to go back to the hostel, we found a pub close to it instead. While there I wrote a little something to remind myself of it when I finally got to writing about:

So, I am writing this in a little pub in Dublin near our hostel. I’m sitting at a bar and to my right in the next room is a duo, playing fiddle and guitar. They’re playing some really Irish sounding stuff, and this atmosphere and feeling; this is why I wanted to come to Dublin.

It was a nice experience. Then we walked to the hostel. There was a sketchy-looking guy on the corner of the street, and after we walked by, he walked after us until he was literally right behind Dee’s left shoulder. We stopped walking. He stops, then sees us giving him looks and says, “oh sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you” and after a few moments staggers off in the same direction. We kept a safe distance behind him, but then he went into our hostel. Shit. After a few moments he doesn’t come out, so we just go in, and the guy at the desk said, yes, he is staying there. Then we spent about half an hour in the company of a schizophrenic and thee semi-sketchy guys, but the details are too long for me to want to write them out.

A little while after getting to bed, the girl in the one under one came in. Then she changed. To put I nicely, Dee put lotion on her hands and slept with them over her face, while I slept with a bit of lavender I had plucked earlier on my pillow. If you’ve ever seen the move “The labyrinth”, it smelled like she had been dipped in the Bog of Eternal Stench. No joke. Aside from that the night was well slept. However at the crack of 8am the next morning: hammering, stone cutting and soldering… right outside our window. By 8h20 we had had enough, and we were walking out the door at 8h30. We stopped at a little place for breakfast, and then just hopped on a bus to the airport. Everything went smoothly there, and I took some cool pictures once we got over England.

Once in England we decided to get some pizza before our next flight. And my god they had: barbeque chicken pizza. They were 8£ each, something I would shoot my own foot over in the states, but really, what choice did we have? Then we thought we were about to miss our flight. When they brought out the pizza, we asked for the check. When they brought the check we gave them the money and asked for boxes. We boxed the ½ pizzas that were left and booked it through Gatwick. Supposedly it takes fifteen minutes to get from where we were to our boarding gate, but we made it in five. We still had to wait about 20 minutes though because boarding was late. We took that time to finish our pizzas and fan ourselves with the boxes. Guess who looked like the biggest assholes there? We did! As we were boarding the guy that checked Dee in asked if she had finished the whole pizza. Hell yeah!

With a final sigh and so long we buckled our belts for take-off.

Dublin (III)

Monday morning we decided enough was enough with the souvenirs shoved in our locker. We went to the post office, bought two boxes and brought them back to the hostel to be stuffed. I managed to pack up everything I wanted to and my box was popping at the seams. But back at the post, we taped up every edge and wrote the address three times, and wrote 'fragile' and/or 'handle with care' on every side. The damages to ship overseas? My box weighed 3.1 kg (6.8 lbs) and cost 57€ ($85). Dee's however, weighed about 8kg (17.6 lbs) and cost about two weeks worth of food at 123€ ($184). Absolutely ridiculous. And we were incredulous, then pissed. But really we had no choice because we couldn't fit any of the stuff we bought in Ireland in our bags.

Following this financial catastrophe we had a poor-man's lunch at Burger King, but it was good (note: BK no longer exists in France). Then to make ourselves feel better, we went to a semi-expensive clothes store and tried some stuff one then left without buy anything.

The first actual thing we did that day was head to the southwest of Dublin until we saw the grandiosity of St. Patrick's Cathedral. It's famous because it's the biggest one in Dublin, or Ireland? I don't remember. But Jonathon Swift was also the dean for some time, and while I don't know most of his work, I really like his essay on Irish babies and Gulliver's Travels. Of course it was pretty inside, and smelled amazing because they were burning large quantities of incense. There were also some of the oldest flags I've ever seen hanging up there. They had some stones which covered the well that St. Patrick used to baptise his converts, and Jonathon Swift's... well a place for him if not his actual remains, but I think they were under there. They had a nice little gift shop too, and we each bought ourselves a really nice copy of Gulliver’s Travels. We also found out what St. Patrick is the saint of… Ireland. Even though neither of us pray, we took a nice little repose in the chairs and admired the alter before heading off to our next stop.

Dublin Castle. We did things a little backwards and started with the gift shop. I found a shot-glass with the coat of arms for Barrett, but not Kilpatrick… oh well. We completely missed the entrance in our search, but found the gardens instead. We later found out that they were the site of the original ‘black water’, which in Gaelic is Dubh-linh… look familiar?

We did find the entrance, but not before Dee decided to be weird and take pictures of me while she was laying on the ground. One of which looks very Mary Tyler Moore-ish if you ask me. Dublin Castle was also only by guided tour, but it wasn’t that boring and we learned quite a bit… like how the English monarchy hasn’t visited Ireland since the 1800’s, and something about a sir Earl de Grey doing something there… but now he’s just famous for his tea. They also have some of the original castle from Viking times. One of the four towers still stands, but the tour guide brings you underneath one of the wings to see part of another tower and where it meets the wall that surrounded the city. I love old shit like that.

We left around 4pm, and decided to head to the hostel for some dinner. While cooking and eating we started talking to two guys, one from Texas and the other Australia. We all decided to see that night’s movie (the hostel had movie night every night at 8pm), and then we invited them to a game of Kings. For this occasion I thought we should Irish, so we bought some ginger ale and 70cl of Jameson. (Later note: it was 25.99€ in Ireland and only 17€ in France.) Dee and I finished the bottle, and I will admit what happened next is not one of my proudest moments. But after the game ended, I left to go to the bathroom…and woke up an unknown amount of time later still in the bathroom. I figured it was early in the morning and that Dee was already in bed, with our room key since I didn’t have it. So I made my way to the front desk to ask for another, which cost me 1€. But when I got in the room, Dee wasn’t there. Sometime later on in the morning she came in, but without our original room key. It seemed we were missing a few other things as well: our locker key, my glasses, and our sweatshirts. As it turns out, she never had the room key, so when I disappeared she couldn’t get in our room either. But there was an empty bed in the room that the two guys were in, so she slept there. Unfortunately when she left in the morning she didn’t take note of the room number.

For the next half and hour to 45 minutes we searched for the right room. This involved knocking on four doors, getting the key to two others, and eventually finding the right one. Our sweatshirts were there, but not the glasses or the locker key. I finally went to the front desk to admit we lost it and to inquire about my glasses. Supposedly no one had turned in either one, but the locker key they gave le was the same one I had had before. I asked three times about my glasses with no luck. After a nap and some brunch, I decided to ask again. When they said no again, I asked if they could send them to me if they were found. So I’m writing down my address, and the girl asks me to describe them… oOh! … goes in the back… “are these them?” No shit Sherlock… why didn’t you look back there any of the other times I asked? But at least I got them back.

Dublin (II)

Sunday morning w got up early (for us), had breakfast and planned our day. Then we headed out into the gray day. After a bit of a walk (but without getting lost) we arrived at our first destination: the Old Jameson Distillery. In case you're wondering, it's the original place they made Jameson whiskey, actually until somewhat recently. They take you through on a guided tour that tells all about the history and how it's made. Then at the end you get a glass of Jameson either straight or with something (I chose ginger ale = not bad). But not everyone got a glass because they chose six people to do a whiskey tasting, and Dee volunteered. So these six people sat down at a table with a placemat that had spots for six shot glasses. On the bottom three were Irish whiskeys: Paddy's, Jameson and Power's Gold. They had to try all three and then put their favorite one in the center top spot. The other two spots were for the best-selling whiskeys in the world from Scotland and the States. I don't remember the Scottish one, but can you guess the American? Jack Daniel's. Then they had to try those two and compare it with their favorite Irish one. After they chose our tour guide told us he would be right back, and he wanted all of their shots gone by the time he did. He came back with certificates for all of the tasters saying that they are official whiskey tasters, and a small glass of straight Jameson. Needless to say Dee was a little more than tipsy by the time she finished. We were going to buy some souvenir, but it was only 11h45, and you can't buy alcohol before 1230 on Sunday in Dublin. So we wasted some time and tried to sober up a little in the café.

Our next stop of the day was the Guinness Storehouse. It took forever to get there, and we ended up walking around an entire block, which we believe contains the actual factory. While going back up one street, our eyes caught a sign for the storehouse, and five more minutes of following huge signs (which should've been at the tram stop), we made it into the storehouse. It was a self-guided tour, and there were seven floors. Not that bad for a museum about beer. At one point they give you a little cup to taste it, and on the 7th floor you get a free pint. The 7th floor is the 'gravity bar'. It's just a circular room with a bar in the middle. All of the walls are windows, which means you get a 360° view of Dublin. While the city itself holds no beauty from above, it's nice to see Dublin is hugged by green hills on side. And I'll admit in the confines of this blog of a crime I committed: theft. On the bottom floor there's a big tub with barely grains, the same kind that's used to make the actual Guinness! Well, I grabbed a handful and put it in my bag... later I sent it to the states. Hopefully customs doesn't think I'm trying to grow a terrorist plant or something. (Later note: they didn't, my package made it home) Dee and I could only finish half of our pints... too much bitter frothiness for me... aside from the fact that I really don't like beer.

All that morning alcohol made us quite hungry so we walked towards the zoo and found a little place to eat. This is where we committed our second crime of the day. First there's something you all should understand: European service is not like American where the people rely on tips. All of the little things we do in restaurants to get the servers attention, or let them know you're done, don't work. At this place we tried several: staring the waitresses down, pushing our plates away from us, and then stacking them and putting them on the edge of the table... and we got no service. Dee hadn't even eaten hers because it was gross...so we decided to go back downstairs to see if we should pay there. There was no one there, so Dee walked right out and I was forced to follow. So that saved us 11€. But karma did bi us in the ass and by the time we got to the zoo (around 4pm) it was just closing. Instead of attempting to do anything else we took a double-decker bus back to the city center and made the not really short haul back to our hostel to nap.

That night we went in search of a true Irish pub experience. This of course included wandering around a lot and wondering where exactly we were and in which direction we were headed. Guess what we found... Captain America's restaurant, as well as three BK's and McD's within ten minutes of each other, and a TGI Fridays. Feels like home. After changing directions in the same square about four times we finally agreed on a street to take, just to whip out our map and admit we were tourists. After quelques minutes, someone came over to ask if we were lost. Nope, just looking for a good pub. He recommended heading over to Temple Bar, which is actually a quartier, but there is an actual bar with that name inside. To this suggestion Dee replied, ' oh no., that's where you send all the tourists.' So he told us about the bar that his brother owns, and at which there would be live music that night. Well then, off we go! But wait! On our way, (in fact about three buildings down) we had to stop, for we had come across a pub named "The Hairy Lemon". Cozy little place with some great American tunes on the radio. We only stayed for a one expensive pint of Stella before starting our search again. Amazingly we found the place without getting lost. Well, the one time we took out the map we looked across the street and there it was. There was a bouncer, so we got carded, but he was funny. After discovering our true nationality he raised his hand and said to me, 'high five!' As I went in for it he pulled his back and said, ' oh, what am I American?' Dee fell for the same thing on the way out.

Inside, the music hadn't start yet, so with a Jameson and ginger and a beer at our table, we commenced a game of connect four. But first we had to play 'rock, paper, scissors' to see who would go first. We were going for best two out of three, but the bitch of it was, we pulled the same thing five times in a row. However I kicked her ass about 3/4 of the time. We stayed for two drinks each and the first musician. As we were leaving the bouncer informed us that the next guy was really good and we should stay for at least one song. With a rum and coke to share, we listened to four or five because he was actually pretty good.

And so ends the Sabbath in Dublin.

Vacance: Third Leg: Dublin (I)

When we first got off the plane it was nice and completely cloudy, but warmer than Germany. Everything was going great, until we got off the bus and onto the actual streets of Dublin. It took us around an hour (carrying our now heavy bags full of souvenirs) to find our hostel. First stop: internet café followed by food at Madigan's (which you can find by walking about ten minutes in any direction). Since most places in Dublin close around 5pm, we decided the perfect thing to do would be to go shopping! But it was mostly for other people. After dropping some €'s at Carroll's and then bringing it all back to the hostel, we went in search of the one thing that was still open: Dracula's House/ haunted house. Just getting there was an adventure in itself. It took about 20minutes walking through drizzle to find Connelly Station. Then we got on the wrong DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit), which would be better named Sloth. Eventually we did get there though. The first part you just walk through this semi-dark hallway with a lot of info one Bram Stoker and where Dracula came from, as well as posters from a lot of the movies based on the book. Then you go into the 'haunted house' part of it, which was amusing, but not really scary.

When we came out, the guy that works there started talking to us, which was just as fun because he's a comedian. After a little while he asked us if we wanted to have some fun... Yes? He took us back into the haunted house to this little tiny room in the middle. Inside he showed us how you could scare people in four different place just from there. So we did a rehearsal then came out to await our victims. About ten minutes later two guys that worked somewhere else in the building went in for the first time. We gave them about five minutes, and then ran in to take our places. But while running down the first hallway part, Dee did a wondrous face plant. Her initial speed allowed her to slide a few feet face down, with her arms at her sides. With the sliding and the way she was flapping her arms, my mind was inspired to superimpose the image of a seal over her and I almost peed myself laughing so hard. Thankfully she wasn't actually hurt, and we did scare the crap out of those two guys. After that we were talking to the guy a little more, and he told us a few good places to go in Dublin.

While we ere waiting for the DART (we had about fifteen minutes), these two kids (I'm guessing about 12) starting hanging around the stop. About five minutes after we first saw them, we heard yelling coming from the street below and next to the platform. We ran over to the fence and saw two cops booking it. A few moments later one came running back chasing one of the kids and yelling, "You bugger! Stop! Get back here!" Then the kid starts practically bawling and blubbering, "I didn't mean to! I won't do it again! I'm sorry; I don't know why I did it! I'm sorry, please don't tell my parents!" This was after the cop had caught up to him and shook the shit out of him. A few moments after that the second cop comes back with the other kid, pushing him along while gripping the back of his shirt. We saw them with some kind of can, so we think they were graffiti-ing. The whole scene was pretty hilarious and we were happy to have the free entertainment while we waited.

Once back in the city center we realized we were hungry, so we stopped at an Indian restaurant and ate...a lot. We ate so much in fact that we ditched our plans to go to a club and just walked around for a while before heading back to the hostel. When we got up to our room the guy in the bed under mine was already there...asleep. As we were getting into bed he said to us, "You two are crazy!" Dee asked why, and he repeated, "You two are just crazy!" I motioned to Dee to ignore him because he just sleep-talking. Then, after we had laid down he said, (and not too quietly) "As it was" and we both started laughing and woke up one of his friends. Strangeness.

By the end of our first day in Dublin we were happy, and looking forward to the next day's fun activities. How Dublin deceived us...