The market runs every Friday at An Fuaran from 1 to 7. You can find them on Facebook, here. I suggest skipping lunch, because when you step out of the car the assault on your senses will make your knees weaken along with your resolve, and you WILL have a second meal. If you manage to make it past the sausage guy - who generously gave my hungry looking friend Jos a twofer (that's TWO sausages per roll) - you can choose from sushi (melt in your mouth - the crab rolls are sheer perfection), an Indian stall which also sells freshly mixed spice packs (I went back for second helpings of onion and vegetable bhaji) and for dessert Dutch Poffertjes which are teeny tiny pancakes. The jolly lady who runs this stall will helpfully advise you not to split your Poffertjes with a friend. Listen to her, she knows what she's talking about. If you're feeling fancy take a seat, and enjoy a plate of oysters and a glass of wine for mere pocket change.Monday, May 2, 2011
To the Moycullen Market and Beyond!
The Friday market in Moycullen is the happy home of Level 7+ Hippies, local farmers, continental crafties and foodies... and occasionally escaped students from NUI, Galway. I've attempted to blog on this before but my photographer let me down a bomb and has just now forwarded the photos from our last Moycullen Market adventure. Thus I am rolling this into a super post incorporating two market trips, and an adventure extension.
The market runs every Friday at An Fuaran from 1 to 7. You can find them on Facebook, here. I suggest skipping lunch, because when you step out of the car the assault on your senses will make your knees weaken along with your resolve, and you WILL have a second meal. If you manage to make it past the sausage guy - who generously gave my hungry looking friend Jos a twofer (that's TWO sausages per roll) - you can choose from sushi (melt in your mouth - the crab rolls are sheer perfection), an Indian stall which also sells freshly mixed spice packs (I went back for second helpings of onion and vegetable bhaji) and for dessert Dutch Poffertjes which are teeny tiny pancakes. The jolly lady who runs this stall will helpfully advise you not to split your Poffertjes with a friend. Listen to her, she knows what she's talking about. If you're feeling fancy take a seat, and enjoy a plate of oysters and a glass of wine for mere pocket change.
The market runs every Friday at An Fuaran from 1 to 7. You can find them on Facebook, here. I suggest skipping lunch, because when you step out of the car the assault on your senses will make your knees weaken along with your resolve, and you WILL have a second meal. If you manage to make it past the sausage guy - who generously gave my hungry looking friend Jos a twofer (that's TWO sausages per roll) - you can choose from sushi (melt in your mouth - the crab rolls are sheer perfection), an Indian stall which also sells freshly mixed spice packs (I went back for second helpings of onion and vegetable bhaji) and for dessert Dutch Poffertjes which are teeny tiny pancakes. The jolly lady who runs this stall will helpfully advise you not to split your Poffertjes with a friend. Listen to her, she knows what she's talking about. If you're feeling fancy take a seat, and enjoy a plate of oysters and a glass of wine for mere pocket change.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Start a Feud
I have a bit of a feud going with Starbucks.
Our relationship bloomed when I came back to NUIG in September and started studying again. Now I LOVE Starbucks. They are not so plentiful in Ireland, but I buy their beans whenever I find myself in their stores in Belfast or Dublin. I favour their frappucinos over ice-cream when I'm in the US. I have one of their (Product)RED brand travel cups that allows me to feel simultaneously caffeinated, socially and environmentally responsible. I bought it last summer while driving from Philadelphia to North Carolina with the Shafis. Its so water-tight and idiot proof that I don't need to stir in my milk and sugar, I just put the lid on and shake it; martini style.
The first time I visited the NUIG Starbucks and ordered my usual - good old fashioned filter coffee - the girl looked at the bottom of my beloved red travel mug for some sort of indication of what sized vessel I had presented her with. Seeing nothing, she filled it up, charged me €1.40 and conspiratorially told me to ask for a small whenever I come, because its just filter coffee and therefore not much more complicated than water, and the mug is not much bigger than a small anyway and they didn't have to give me a disposable cup every time and we just agreed that this was the best for everyone. I thanked her, and went on my way. That was the last time I saw her. Bless her cotton socks.
Our relationship bloomed when I came back to NUIG in September and started studying again. Now I LOVE Starbucks. They are not so plentiful in Ireland, but I buy their beans whenever I find myself in their stores in Belfast or Dublin. I favour their frappucinos over ice-cream when I'm in the US. I have one of their (Product)RED brand travel cups that allows me to feel simultaneously caffeinated, socially and environmentally responsible. I bought it last summer while driving from Philadelphia to North Carolina with the Shafis. Its so water-tight and idiot proof that I don't need to stir in my milk and sugar, I just put the lid on and shake it; martini style.The first time I visited the NUIG Starbucks and ordered my usual - good old fashioned filter coffee - the girl looked at the bottom of my beloved red travel mug for some sort of indication of what sized vessel I had presented her with. Seeing nothing, she filled it up, charged me €1.40 and conspiratorially told me to ask for a small whenever I come, because its just filter coffee and therefore not much more complicated than water, and the mug is not much bigger than a small anyway and they didn't have to give me a disposable cup every time and we just agreed that this was the best for everyone. I thanked her, and went on my way. That was the last time I saw her. Bless her cotton socks.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Pecha Kucha
Last night we went to Pecha Kucha in Kellys Bar. Pecha Kucha is a fun informal presentation of 20 slides that each last for 20 seconds. It is not to be confused with Machu Picchu which is a fifteenth century Inca site in the Andes.
This was the 2nd Pecha Kucha night in Galway and it was quite a crowded room. If it continues to be this successful they will definitely need a bigger space.
Because you can present on absolutely anything some people did comedic presentations, some presented their art, some presented a political agenda and two people showed photos of their recent travels. Its amazing how much less boring looking at peoples travel photos can be when they only have 20 seconds to talk about each one.
One guy gave advice on how to approach a DJ. Another guy presented the best and worst of housemates. Two ladies presented photography as the capture of a moment, one through fashion the other through landscape and body art. One of my favourites was a presentation on creative space in Galway. The girl presented her ideal layout of Galway city in 2040, which had several free creative spaces. She got a loud cheer from the crowd for converting the Bank of Ireland building into a music school.
The next Galway Pecha Kucha is in May. I am considering presentations on the following:
- 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon, in which I link myself to Kevin Bacon and other celebrities in 6 steps or less.
- The best and worst of haircuts.
- How much does a book cost? (Read: How long is a piece of string?)
- This blog... pending more posts, obviously.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Be a Fan
Remember that movie Almost Famous? The one that made you think you were born 30 years too late to have any real chance at ever being cool? Who was your favourite character? The pimply kid who was given an opportunity to write for Rolling Stone magazine? The roguish rock star? No. You wanted to be Penny Lane didn't you? Of course you did. She was fucking awesome. She was also a hell of an adventurer. Not because she had any real ambition or thirst for experience, but those Band Aids saw most of America simply following a fad around. The reasoning might not be great, but in practice its a damn good way to see some stuff.
Last summer my friend Lili decided to follow Kila to Tory Island. Now at the time I couldn't have given a toss about Kila, I just thought "wa-hey camping trip!" Nobody wants to hear me go on about Tory Island again (best weekend of my life blah blah blah) but if Lili hadn't been a Kila fan, and I a willing accomplice, I'd never have seen this...
Or this.
Or THIS!
Last night I saw Wiggle play in Monroes. They're not the kind of band we would go see very often, usually opting instead for singer-songwriters in skinny jeans in the Roisin Dubh but ever since I first saw Wiggle in the Spiegeltent in Cork in 2005 I've been hooked. They are just so bloody infectious! You can't not wiggle at Wiggle. So what was so special about last night that it qualifies as an adventure? It was just... different. Wiggle's Band Aids are the lost children of West Cork hippies, and they dance barefoot in that distinctive hippy fashion; you know where they adopt a haka-like stance and slowly lift one naked little ankle-bracelet adorned foot, placing it gently back on the ground and then the other while their hands, grasped prayer like do elaborate figures of eight in the air in front of them, their lithe vegan bodies following their hands, like divers practicing on dry land, all in time to the less prevalent beats of the music so that when you look at the while crowd dancing like this it seems as though they are trying to slow the music with the force of their minds. They were awesome, I loved them.
A few friends were talking recently about the people who move to Galway (specifically from Dublin) because they think living in Galway secures their status as free spirits. Owen tried to argue that it wasn't unique to Dublin. "Put it this way" he said, "there are 14 million people in Spain, yet all the hippies are here."
Last summer my friend Lili decided to follow Kila to Tory Island. Now at the time I couldn't have given a toss about Kila, I just thought "wa-hey camping trip!" Nobody wants to hear me go on about Tory Island again (best weekend of my life blah blah blah) but if Lili hadn't been a Kila fan, and I a willing accomplice, I'd never have seen this...
Or this.
Or THIS!
Last night I saw Wiggle play in Monroes. They're not the kind of band we would go see very often, usually opting instead for singer-songwriters in skinny jeans in the Roisin Dubh but ever since I first saw Wiggle in the Spiegeltent in Cork in 2005 I've been hooked. They are just so bloody infectious! You can't not wiggle at Wiggle. So what was so special about last night that it qualifies as an adventure? It was just... different. Wiggle's Band Aids are the lost children of West Cork hippies, and they dance barefoot in that distinctive hippy fashion; you know where they adopt a haka-like stance and slowly lift one naked little ankle-bracelet adorned foot, placing it gently back on the ground and then the other while their hands, grasped prayer like do elaborate figures of eight in the air in front of them, their lithe vegan bodies following their hands, like divers practicing on dry land, all in time to the less prevalent beats of the music so that when you look at the while crowd dancing like this it seems as though they are trying to slow the music with the force of their minds. They were awesome, I loved them.
A few friends were talking recently about the people who move to Galway (specifically from Dublin) because they think living in Galway secures their status as free spirits. Owen tried to argue that it wasn't unique to Dublin. "Put it this way" he said, "there are 14 million people in Spain, yet all the hippies are here."
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Public Lectures: Adventuring while sitting down, learning.
Have you ever attended a lecture?
Not your own lectures for courses you're enrolled in. You're supposed to go to those, dumbass. I mean a public lecture hosted by an institution, academic or otherwise. Like these, or these, or any of these, these, these, and these.
A composer with the most spectacularly bird-like hands named Robert Robertson (you couldn't make that up) presented a two part seminar entitled "Eisenstein and Synaesthesia" and "Eisenstein in the 21st Century" in the Huston Film School today.
Synesthesia as a concept has fascinated me for a long time now. The creative possibilities for interpretation are almost endless! Loosely defined, synesthesia is a confusion of the senses, so one would see music or hear a colour. Words become associated with visual representations of sounds, colours and images to the extent that it is difficult to reassociate the word with the intended meaning. As disabilities go it's bordering on super power. I mean how cool would that be?
Not your own lectures for courses you're enrolled in. You're supposed to go to those, dumbass. I mean a public lecture hosted by an institution, academic or otherwise. Like these, or these, or any of these, these, these, and these.
A composer with the most spectacularly bird-like hands named Robert Robertson (you couldn't make that up) presented a two part seminar entitled "Eisenstein and Synaesthesia" and "Eisenstein in the 21st Century" in the Huston Film School today.
Synesthesia as a concept has fascinated me for a long time now. The creative possibilities for interpretation are almost endless! Loosely defined, synesthesia is a confusion of the senses, so one would see music or hear a colour. Words become associated with visual representations of sounds, colours and images to the extent that it is difficult to reassociate the word with the intended meaning. As disabilities go it's bordering on super power. I mean how cool would that be?
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Detours: Fort Hill Cemetery
I took my friend Arne Peters to Galway Bay Seafood's factory shop down on the docks for something fresh and stinky for dinner. I mean this fish is FRESH! As far as I can tell the boats pull up to the back of the factory, some gets smoked and/or packaged nicely then sent to the shops, some heads out to the restaurants, and some comes straight through the factory still wriggling and is plonked on a bed of ice and sold then and there. We got two beautiful hake fillets and plan to eat them with sun-dried tomatoes and spinach. Oh, and seaweed. Arne insisted on the seaweed. I think he has glamourised seaweed insofar as seaweed can be glamourised. Arne currently thinks seaweed is posh. Even the dulisk, which my father used to eat by the bag when quitting smoking, did not deter Arne the Seaweed Glamour Puss. Dulisk tastes like the sea weed... on your tongue. Salty. Bad.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Story Night
Story Story!
Story.
Once upon a time.
Time Time
Once upon a time I spent the most pleasant evening, in a cosy little theatre...
The first Tuesday of every month is story night in Galway. I've been hearing about this for several months, but only went for the first time last Tuesday. I now regret missing all those months.
The brainchild of Clare Murphy, story night has been on the go since 2006. Apparently it began around Clare's kitchen table, then migrated to the Spirit Centre only to out grow this venue last March. Story Telling night now calls the Blue Teapot Theatre on Munster Avenue home, and I can't imagine it anywhere else. When I arrived just before 8 on Tuesday there was already a comfortable crowd gathered at the front of the theatre on cushions and blankets, and on the chairs set up behind. The current set in the BlueTeapot is a forest scene, with foliage surrounding the beautifully painted back-drop. It looked impressive, and provided a little something for the story tellers to interact with, along with their audience.
Story.
Once upon a time.
Time Time
Once upon a time I spent the most pleasant evening, in a cosy little theatre...
The first Tuesday of every month is story night in Galway. I've been hearing about this for several months, but only went for the first time last Tuesday. I now regret missing all those months.
The brainchild of Clare Murphy, story night has been on the go since 2006. Apparently it began around Clare's kitchen table, then migrated to the Spirit Centre only to out grow this venue last March. Story Telling night now calls the Blue Teapot Theatre on Munster Avenue home, and I can't imagine it anywhere else. When I arrived just before 8 on Tuesday there was already a comfortable crowd gathered at the front of the theatre on cushions and blankets, and on the chairs set up behind. The current set in the BlueTeapot is a forest scene, with foliage surrounding the beautifully painted back-drop. It looked impressive, and provided a little something for the story tellers to interact with, along with their audience.
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