literary travels: Concord, Mass.

Posted on October 11, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Friends, I have a trip coming up. I’ll be joining my parents in Concord, Massachusetts for 4-5 days where they have a home for part of the fall; we’ll sightsee in Concord and Boston and visit the best pubs around. And then I’ll head a little further north to Vermont to see an old friend with a new baby, and her whole family, on their farm. I’m so very excited! I miss my parents (who base out of Houston, where I live, but travel so much), and I miss my girlfriend and her baby, and the weather in these northern locales will be so very dreamy compared to the heat that we are still experiencing down here. And I look forward to tromping around the Vermont woods – and seeing all that Boston, Concord, and the surroundings have to offer. This is where you come in.

One of the great attractions of Concord is literary in nature: the Transcendentalist movement is generally understood to have begun with Ralph Waldo Emerson in Concord, and other major figures include Henry David Thoreau and Bronson Alcott, also Concord residents. (The latter had a daughter you may have heard of as well: Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women.) Local sights that interest me:

  • the cabin at Walden Pond where Thoreau wrote Walden (which I hope to read for the first time before I get there. I have a charming pocket-size red cloth-bound copy);
  • the Concord Museum, home to numerous artifacts relating to the American Revolution, Puritans and Native Americans, and Emerson and Thoreau;
  • the Old Manse, home to Emerson and later, Nathaniel Hawthorne (that of Hawthorne’s Mosses from an Old Manse);
  • the Wayside, home to Louisa May Alcott, then Hawthorne, and then Margaret Sidney;
  • the Emerson House, now a museum and National Historic Monument (where he lived after vacating the Old Manse); and
  • the Orchard House, where Bronson Alcott and his family lived, including daughter Louisa May who wrote and set Little Women there.

We’ll also be walking the Boston Freedom Trail and Minute Man National Historical Park, for their American Revolutionary War relevance (and overlapping some of the above – the Wayside is in the Minute Man Park, for instance). Apparently the Underground Railroad stopped off in Concord as well: the Transcendentalists were movers in abolitionism (or more commonly “anti-slavery”, in the contemporary term) and feminism/women’s rights, and the Alcotts helped slaves along their way to freedom.

So tell me, friends – TBM, I have you specifically in mind! – how’s my itinerary looking so far? What am I missing; is anything here redundant or less interesting? And one final important point: what’s the best, most authentic Irish pub in Boston?? My Pops hasn’t found it yet. Remember, we’ve been to Ireland; no green beer please. 🙂

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bonus midday post: on dogs. (and, I have a new author friend.)

Posted on June 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I have been a little bit conflicted & confused as to how to tell this story. My new author friend values his privacy highly, and I respect that. I think I’m going to leave him anonymous for the purpose of telling this story. Close readers (rabid followers of this blog & my life, as if there were such people, ha) will be able to figure out his identity, to which I say, okay.

Husband and I got to take a trip this year to see & do lots of amazing, beautiful things, including meet a man who had previously been an email-friend, an author whose book I have admired (still admire) greatly. We’ll call him, um, Larry. Our correspondence had been friendly & stimulating, but there remained the chance that we would fail to hit it off, that there would be awkwardness. However, we did in fact hit it off – all three of us, Husband, Larry and I – and had a great few days of conversation, food, drink, views, and enjoying the world. Larry invited us to meet his wife and their friends; I got to play with his dog. He cooked us dinner – twice! – and welcomed us into his home. It was really something. I’m honored to be treated with such friendly familiarity. And while part of that feeling, of being honored, comes from my admiration of the book this guy wrote, it’s more about simply humanity: that I connected with another human being over the tastes and passions and interests we share. And he gave me a book to read off his bookshelf at home, which is kind of cool. 🙂

When Thomas posted his latest Bits and Bobs post, I guess I was in a lazy blog-reading mood, because I confess I reacted more or less thusly: “books, books, hm… books… gratuitous photos, what? gardens, hm… LUCY!!” More dog is always (always!) appreciated. And that reminded me of an anecdote told by, um, Larry: when his editor was looking over the book, he sent Larry a postcard that said, “less wife – more dog.” Larry’s wife was of course (good-naturedly) a little miffed with the editor! I thought the level of wife in the book was fine – I like the wife – but I think I got what the editor was serving up there: more dog is always appreciated. So, “Larry,” carry on, I love the dog! Thomas, I can handle all the Lucy you care to publish! Here’s to dogs.

my two little dogs after a four-day weekend at the beach: dog tired.

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Ireland: final days in Dublin

Posted on April 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

(Days 1-3 here; day 4 here; days 5-7 here; days 7-8 here)

We drove into Dublin on day eight, Friday night, which was also Good Friday. PSA: They don’t sell alcohol in Dublin on Christmas Day or Good Friday. This was a significant piece of information to have missed, since pubs were pretty much the reason we were interested in the city of Dublin. I was frustrated. Let’s move on to day nine, shall we?

Day nine: Saturday morning. Breakfast at the Queen of Tarts (yum!) before heading out to the Guinness Storehouse. This is the longtime site of Guinness brewing in Dublin, and the adjoining property still brews beer; the Storehouse itself, where the public can buy tours, is no longer a working brewery, but a museum of brewing and (more so) of Guinness the brand. This was not entirely what I had in mind going in; perhaps in a different state of mind I would have been more interested in the museum setting, but at this point we were not sure we were actually going to get the full day in Dublin (for reasons relating to our flight arrangements) and having missed out on any chance to drink on “Dry Friday” the night before, I was frustrated. We drank our pint of Guinness, toured around some, and headed out to probably my favorite pub of the trip: the historic Brazen Head, oldest pub in Dublin, attached to the old city wall; Barrett tells me this is one of the pubs (just outside the wall) that used to lodge those travelers who hadn’t made it in before the gates closed (or those foreigners not allowed in). A lovely place. We saw a few pubs and took a nap before the evening’s big event:

the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl. Barrett had been on it before but liked it enough to repeat with us, especially considering my literary inclinations. It turned out to be perhaps a little drier and more literary than Husband was promised but he maintained his good spirits. This crawl is led by actors who perform selections from the great works (ahem Ulysses) and sing songs as well as imparting local lore and showing us around local landmarks (Trinity College) as well as pubs. I haven’t actually read much of the big Irish names, so it was less a familiar review of literary knowledge for me than it might have been, but still it was a good time. And as a bonus, towards the end we made friends with a German couple and an English one, and stayed out too late for our early morning flight the next day… whew! Home on Easter Sunday to prep for the week to come.

I made a map to indicate our travels


Weather-wise, we were so very lucky! We saw more sun than anything else; minimal precipitation, and what we did see was fleeting and light, more a novelty than an annoyance.

Highlights:
Oh boy! Inis Mhor in general… Westport as a town… Dunluce Castle… Belfast taxi tour of the murals… Saturday night in Dublin. Good times with good old friends and loved ones. Coming home to our little dogs.

Here’s hoping you make it to Ireland soon, too!

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Ireland: days 7-8

Posted on April 23, 2012 by pagesofjulia

(Days 1-3 here; day 4 here; days 5-7 here)

Ahem, continuing day seven: after finishing up at the Giant’s Causeway, it was getting lateish and we headed into Belfast for the evening, centering around the historic Crown Bar (or Crown Liquor Saloon), a CAMRA pub and masterpiece of ornate, garish Victorian decor – it’s almost a bit much, but it’s authentic. They still light the place with gas, even. We got our own little “snug” (like a booth with a door that closes so you can plot against the Brits) after a very good dinner upstairs at their dining room. We closed down the Crown and then the later-closing bar next door and then the latest-closing bar at our hotel, making for a successful evening.

in our snug at the Crown


Day eight, is it now? Which makes it a Friday again. We wake in Belfast and begin by chasing the Titanic, whose 100th anniversary calls for a full-on festival in this city that built and launched the doomed ship. Titanic festivities turn out to be expensive and sold out, but we view the area before chasing down one of the “black taxi tours” of the political murals that we’ve been told about. These murals were most prevalent in the 1980’s during the “troubles” (which I still find to be an odd and understated euphemism), and our cabbie John estimates only 20% remain today, but that was still lots of them. Barrett first vetted cabbies until he found one sufficiently middle-aged, native, and informed, and we spent a few hours driving around with him, viewing murals, hearing his (plentiful and fascinating and heartwrenching) stories, and generally interviewing him on the political turmoil of Northern Ireland from the 80’s through the present. Thanks, John, for one of the real treats of our whole week; you really brought Belfast to life. Most visceral, perhaps, was the still-standing wall at the “Peace Line” (or lane, I never was sure) where they used to lock down at night to keep the Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods safely segregated.

at the Peace Line (l-r): John, Barrett, me


We had a roadside picnic lunch on our drive down into Dublin.

meat. cheese. mustard. bread. strawberries. beer!


The next stop was in the town of Drogheda, where Husband’s maternal roots are based – going back a number of generations, yes, but the family name is recognizably… Droghedian? We wanted to get a picture of him at a city limit sign, at least, and ended up enjoying a walk through the main drag of this quaint, historic, larger-than-expected town dominated (it seemed) by shops selling either meats or sweets. Present company approved. 🙂

And Dublin gets its own post. Stay tuned!

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Ireland: days 5-7

Posted on April 21, 2012 by pagesofjulia

(Days 1-3 here; day 4 here)

Day five: back to the airport, the mainland, and our rented car.

Final glimpse


We were headed north, with Northern Ireland our ultimate goal but some time to play around with in the short term. This was our loveliest drive: we saw strange veils of mist, light rain, heavy rain, sleet, bright sunshine, and a rainbow, all for periods of five minutes at a time and quickly shifting; and the scenery was to die for.


I was terrified on those narrow twisty roads (and driving on the “wrong” side!) but it was beautiful, too. Coniferous forests opening up into wide seascapes and such vibrant colors: deep, bright blue lakes, brown mountains, and such shades of green. Oh, and the little lambs! Sheep everywhere, but I was most enamored of those little babies staggering on spindly little legs.

We found ourselves in the town of Westport, looking for lunch and possibly more at Matt Molloy’s Bar – that’s Matt Molloy of the Chieftains. Lunch, pints, a walk around this dreamy little town, and we needed to stay the night; we got another B&B, visited several pubs, had our first “hot whiskey” (that turns out to be a hot toddy) and a nap and headed back to Molloy’s for the promised evening’s entertainment: traditional Irish music. This started with our being serenaded by a classic Irish bard, who knew a song for every subject imaginable and filled the bar with his rich voice. It was a great night.

Day six: got up for a little shopping in Westport, which had several outdoors shops where we picked up some hiking gear for our trip to New Mexico later this summer, and hit the road, northbound. This was our longest day’s drive, ending in Coleraine in North Ireland, where Barrett had a pub picked out for us. I shall briefly say that the pub was a disappointment and move on to –

Day seven: Left Coleraine on a beautiful, mild morning for some sights: first stop goes to Husband’s credit when he spotted a sign at the last minute for Dunluce Castle, which turned out to be one of my favorite stops of the whole trip. Most of what stands today dates from the 16th and 17th centuries, but there is a room cut into the rock that they say is some 700 years earlier than that – ! – so it was really interesting to see all the layers, if you will, of civilization at this spot. It occupies a point jutting out over the ocean, and indeed part of the castle fell into the ocean in 1639, which marked the beginning of the end of its inhabitance. This site had by far the best pamphlets, guidance, visitor’s center, infrastructure in general to help me imagine what life was like here and comprehend the significance of this site in local and national history. It was a gem!

Dunluce Castle


1600's lodging for second-rate guests in the outer courtyard; you can imagine individual rooms, each with its own fireplace and window.


I like it here.


Next we drove into the town of Bushmills – that’s right, you guessed it, we toured the Old Bushmills Distillery and learned about their whiskey! I’ve been on maybe a couple dozen brewery tours, but this was my first distillery. Our young tour guide was very new and didn’t give us the best tour, but at least we got inside. I’m not so much a whiskey person, and confirmed that fact again, but they make some pretty good lasagna in their lunchroom.

whiskey


Next stop: the Giant’s Causeway, a series of geological formations along the very northern tip of Ireland that, in local myth, make up part of the causeway bridging from Ireland to Scotland so that two giants could do battle. I am running out of pictures but there are plenty on the internet for you! Great views, interesting rocks, a nice long walk making for a nice long day. I almost got to squeeze a lamb but then I didn’t. This is getting to be a nice long post, too, so I’ll finish up the evening in our next installment…

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Ireland: day 4

Posted on April 18, 2012 by pagesofjulia

(Days 1-3 here) This was a full and busy day with several pictures, so it gets it own post.

Day four: Happy to wake up on Inis Mhor with a big day planned. Hitched a ride into town to rent bicycles and buy picnic lunch ingredients, and headed out of town towards the opposite end of the island for D̼n D̼chathair, or the Black Fort, another ancient ruin. Where Dun Aengus has an improved path up to it and signage, and a road nearby, the Black Fort is quite remote; we had to leave our bikes quite far away and hike and clamber over rock walls and rough surfaces to get to it, but it was breathtaking. And I spotted a pair of what turned out to basking sharks Рvery exciting!

views along the dramatic coastline cliffs


Husband and I, aww



Castle defense at the Black Fort: these rocks provided defense from cavalry or, heck, from any kind of fast approach; they've been stood on end and make picking one's way across very difficult.


could somebody please tell me what makes these rocks take such clean straight lines?


"beehive huts" or rooms at the Black Fort inside the 20-foot-thick walls


Husband and I, riding


Our ride then took us back towards our hotel to visit the Worm Hole, a strange naturally occurring rectangular pool viewable from above where we hiked on the cliffs. Barrett got a flat tire, and it was a comedy of errors, but we got back to turn the bikes in, buy sweaters from the Aran Sweater Market, and settle in for – that’s right – dinner and pints at the American Bar (which is not associated with any Americans). Then a local volunteered to drive us home and gave us a hefty box of crabmeat caught that day, which improved his cab fare considerably. Treasa set us up with a makeshift crab hammer, we bought a box of beer, and the night was filled with revelry.

Handsome Husband: lovely end to a long day.

To be continued.

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Ireland: days 1-3

Posted on April 14, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I want to share some of my trip with you here, including pictures, and figure it will take a few installments to do so. If you’re bored and looking for books, bear with me; we’ll be back to books tomorrow. For more Ireland stories, stay tuned over the next week or so.

Day one: Flew into Cork on Friday afternoon because of difficulties getting into Dublin as intended. Luckily, though, our date with Barrett (in Dublin) wasn’t until Saturday noonish; so we flew to Cork on a whim and thought we’d make the best of it! We got a charming little B&B, Killarney House, right near the University College of Cork and visited the recommended (by my neighbor on the airplane, a native of Cork) pub called Mutton Lane Inn.

the UCC's very pretty campus


There we had our first pints of Beamish (started on Guinness at the airport in London) and began a relaxing and fairly uneventful evening. We had dinner at Market Lane (only fair, despite being the “top pick” in my guidebook, which gets it own review) and more pints and settled in with the intention of taking a train into Dublin the next morning to meet Barrett.

Mutton Lane Inn


Day two: Drastically overslept our intended train. Luckily they run all day, and also luckily, it turned out that Barrett (when we finally got a hold of him) had also overslept; but we missed the Saturday morning “English Market” we had intended to visit to get straight on a train. Left Cork feeling like we could happily have spent more time there.

Taking notes on the train for you!


Train into Dublin and found Barrett waiting at the station – whew! Major point scored there. Picked up the rental car (they gave away the one B wanted because we were so late, sigh) and left the city immediately, planning to see it at the end of the week before flying home. Drove into the town of Athlone for the night to drink at Sean’s Bar, purportedly the oldest in Ireland, with a fire in the fireplace – lovely, if cramped, which is a theme of Europe in general in my experience. (When you’re pleased, you call it “cozy.”) Lebanese dinner and more pints and an early bedtime for me, at another very nice B&B called the Bastion; the boys went out late and I shall say no more about that.

Day three: Sunday, yes? It’s already getting hazy. Left Athlone for Clonmacnoise, a monastic site marking the roots of Irish Catholicism. Had a nice walk around in truly perfect weather and intermittent sunshine at this very special place.

Husband (in blue) and Barrett outside Clonmacnoise (those are the ruins of a later church in the background)


inside the monastery grounds themselves


Then on to Connemara airport to board an eight-seat airplane. That flight was really something! We could have taken a ferry, of course, but this was an experience – great views, a wonderful way to approach the unique little world of Inis Mhor, the largest of the Aran Islands.

from the air


This may have been our favorite part of the whole trip. According to Barrett – who has been to Ireland, and Inis Mhor, before, but I have no idea how far to trust him – hi Barrett! – these islands had no soil on them when they were first settled, but only rock. Early islanders created soil by mixing seaweed with crushed seashells, eventually supplemented (I imagine) by plant and animal wastes. This soil, which now supports vegetation across the very green islands, is in danger of blowing away in the wind if not for the stone walls that form a tight network. Settlers had to move rocks to clear space for their fields; conveniently, these rocks now form the walls that keep the soil there.

We checked into our B&B for the night – another dream, called Kilmurvey House, with the lovely Treasa hosting – and headed out for an evening hike to Dun Aengus. This Iron-Age fortress is perched dramatically on a cliff very near our B&B, but at the other end of the island from the little town of Kilronan. The cliffs are dramatic, and I am not so good with heights!

Barrett looking down; me keeping a safe distance

Then into town to Ti Joe Wattys for dinner and pints, courtesy of our B&B host’s shuttle service.

Stay tuned for the rest of the Ireland trip, to come.

Edit: See day 4, days 5-7, and days 7-8 now up.

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back from Ireland

Posted on April 10, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Hello friends & readers! Thanks for sticking with me and thanks for the comments and “likes” while I was away. I’m back now but it will take me a little while to get back on track. The library at work is a mess and needs some TLC; my car has been in the shop and thank goodness should be able to provide me with transportation again soon; and I am trying to get back on the bike! I did read several books while I was gone – fewer than anticipated, which tells you how active and FUN our trip was. Reviews of The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey, Jeeves in the Morning by P.G. Wodehouse, and Darkness All Around by Doug Magee will be up in the next few days. Not a dud amongst them, I’m happy to say.

And what of our travels, you ask? That may be the slowest answer of them all to hit this blog. I took very few pictures but Husband was on fire, taking over 500 pictures – which means there are plenty to show you but it will take time to get through them all. Be patient with me, I beg you.

In a nutshell, I will tell you that Husband and I successfully met up with buddy Barrett (no small feat) in Dublin after spending a night in Cork; we visited Athlone and the supposed oldest bar in Ireland, Sean’s; spent two nights on Inis Mor which was probably our favorite part; made an impromptu overnight stop in Westport for some traditional music; visited Coleraine and Belfast in North Ireland, and then hit Dublin for a final whirlwind weekend. Highlights included visiting castle & monastery ruins (Dunluce was my favorite), the pubs of course, hiking and cycling on Inis Mor, a political-murals tour of Belfast, and the sincere friendliness and welcome of the locals. It was a blast. I fully intend to give you a fuller version later complete with pictures, but this will have to do for now.

I couldn’t decide if I should close by giving you an Irish rainbow or a beer shot, so here’s both:

rainbow on the drive from Galway to Westport (click to enlarge, you will see it, I promise)


beer on the patio of our Inis Mor B&B

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on mountain lions

Posted on April 2, 2012 by pagesofjulia

This is my memory of what happened.

In August of 1990 I was just past my 8th birthday, backpacking with my parents in the White River National Forest in Colorado. We made camp for the evening; it was still daylight. We were in a low, fairly clear area, with the land rising up around us; the grass was tall and golden-brown. I had wandered off by myself, I don’t remember why, and was wandering back toward camp when I looked up into the eyes of a creature I didn’t recognize. It was the size of our family dog, Eile, a Weimaraner. But its face was that of a cat. It was golden-brown, like the grass. It had paused mid-stride to gaze back at me. We were maybe 10-15 feet apart, and we both stopped and looked at each other for a few seconds. I wanted to make the moment last. I was always excited to see wildlife when we camped and backpacked; I remember being enchanted by marmots. Then the big cat walked off and I went back to camp. I told my father I had seen a new animal, and he asked me to describe it, and I told him the same description I’ve given here: the size of our dog, with the face of a cat, golden-brown. He was very excited and told me that I’d seen a mountain lion. I knew what a lion was and told him that wasn’t right, but later he found a picture of this different kind of lion, with no mane, and I recognized it. Yes, I’d seen a mountain lion. I remember my father being thrilled, but there was some note of alarm, too; I’d made it out of the experience fine, so there was no sense in being frightened (I think he told me that now that it knew we were there, it would stay away from us), but you might not send your eight-year-old off on such an encounter knowingly. I felt no fear, of course, not knowing anything but that this creature resembled my pets back home. Nothing scary about that. I’ve wondered if it simply wasn’t hungry, or if it recognized my innocence, my fearless curiosity, my lack of intention to do it any harm.

The above is my memory more than 20 years later, of course, and it may be faulty. It’s even possible that I remember the story as family lore rather than remembering the incident itself; but I don’t think that’s the case. I can picture the cat, and the dry grassy field.

Do my parents remember this experience the same way? It’s been a long time, and I was small. In fact, I had to look up the when-and-where using Pops’s travel log (thanks so much, Pops, for keeping one!). I was surprised at the date; I thought I was smaller than 8 when this happened. To which Pops says, “eight is still pretty small!”

They’ve shared their memories for us here.

Mom:

My memory is such that I doubt if I was there. I either remember the telling of the tale, or I remember telling the tale. The one thing that seems authentic is a flash of astonishment on your face. Maybe I saw you seeing something – and later heard what Hank actually saw, the mountain lion.

Dad:

I have a “clear” memory of it, which probably has a 50% chance of being accurate.

I don’t remember Karen being there so it will be interesting to see what she says. You and I were on a hike – who knows how far from our backpack-camp given your age. We were walking up over a slight rise when you made some exclamation – I don’t remember what. By the time I looked where you were looking, all I saw was a flash of tawny brown disappearing over the hill and/or into the brush. We were in relatively open, scrubby terrain – not in the woods. This was definitely mountain lion habitat – not bobcat or such.

I asked you to describe what you had seen, and it’s based on your description plus my furtive glimpse that I concluded it was a mountain lion. I remember not having any doubt, and emphasizing to you what a special observation it was. I have and would describe this to others as your sighting, not mine; without your description, I would not have been so sure. I might have reasoned that I probably just saw a deer (no tail flash tho’) or a coyote (no bushy tail tho’).

and then:

You thought you were ALONE?!!! Wow; that’s hutzpah – and how very irresponsible of your parents if true!

All of this came back to me recently in reading a few collections of Edward Abbey’s essays. In an essay entitled “Freedom and Wilderness, Wilderness and Freedom” (oft-quoted and reprinted; my version comes from The Journey Home), he describes his one encounter with a mountain lion. When he became aware of its presence, he was exhilarated, having wanted to meet a lion all his life (something I’d read in earlier essays). He felt fear, but also:

I felt what I always feel when I meet a large animal face to face in the wild: I felt a kind of affection and the crazy desire to communicate, to make some kind of emotional, even physical contact with the animal.

He tried to shake its hand. And if that sounds crazy, I ask you to go find a copy of this essay and read it all the way through. It’s only 11 pages long. And by the time he wants to shake this lion’s hand, I propose that you might be with him, searching for communion. I certainly was.

Abbey only had the one encounter, and in earlier essays I’ve read, he laments that fact; he waited for and sought that one encounter all his life. It makes me feel that much luckier that I got to see one, too.

Aside from the beauty and grace and rarity of the mountain lion, there’s a question growing out of this blog post about the nature of memory. That, too, reminds me of some recent reading: you may have noticed me raving lately about A Difficult Woman, the Lillian Hellman biography by Alice Kessler-Williams which – among many other things – examines the themes of memory and truth in Hellman’s life. I believe that our memories are fluid and unreliable. It may be that there is no absolutely true memory; it is my experience that people consistently share different memories of the same event. That being said, I think my father probably has it right; we were probably together. It seems more likely (because why would you let your 8-year-old wander around alone in mountain lion country), and I’m inclined to trust his memory which was then mature over mine which was then young… also, inflating my own role to a solo encounter feels like something a child’s memory might do. But it’s interesting to see these different memories, don’t you think?

Be advised: I’m out of town, so you’re viewing pre-scheduled posts until April 9. I love your comments and will respond when I return! But I’ll be out of touch for a bit. Thanks for stopping by!

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I am leaving you. Just temporarily, though.

Posted on March 29, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Just a note to say I’ll be gone for a bit! Husband and I leave tonight for Ireland! How exciting is that? Neither of us has ever been before; I’ve seen a little bit of England. We’ll be meeting one of my best friends, Barrett, in Dublin, and he’s done this several times, so hopefully we’re in good hands. Our plan is to head west from Dublin across the country to the west coast and then north, to see Belfast (for the 100th anniversary of the Titanic leaving from there! there is a festival). Top aspirations include finding great pubs & great beer; seeing some history (old pubs, old buildings, Newgrange); beautiful natural scenery; and soaking up some culture (traditional live music, please). Really I don’t know what all we’re doing; Barrett has done pretty much all the planning that’s been done and we’ll be doing a fair amount of playing it by ear (Husband’s preferred style). I’m ready for adventure!

So what am I reading? I have had a certain amount of angst about this. At this point I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking Doug Peacock’s Walk It Off, a memoir of his relationship with Edward Abbey, and Doug Magee’s Darkness All Around, a thriller kindly sent me by the author. Will definitely take Abbey’s The Monkey Wrench Gang, which (gasp) I have not read yet. And naturally those Ireland travel guides that I haven’t cracked yet :-/ but will at least skim if not study on the plane. That would be 50 Best Pubs Crawls in England, Scotland, Wales & Ireland, lent by my parents, and Lonely Planet’s Ireland 2012, lent by my library. I’m not sure if that’s going to do it, though, and I don’t want to take Houston Public Library’s copy of Aldo Leopold’s Sand Country Almanac because I don’t want anything to happen to it, plus it’s coffee-table size, awkward for travel. Hrm. I may have to grab things off my plentiful TBR shelves on the way out the door. The iPod can come with its audiobooks too of course. But I’d prefer to keep my ears open on this trip with friends. Oh, and Husband is bringing Fire Season.

And what does this mean for the world of pagesofjulia? Never fear: I have posts scheduled to come up almost daily, like normal, while I’m gone. (I’m taking the two Sundays off to get through the break.) But just be aware that I won’t be responding to your comments for a bit; I will be catching up April 9 and 10 when I’m home. Please come visit me here and comment! But be patient with me in getting back to you. I’ll be offline.

Finally, burglars, beware! We do have a housesitter. 🙂

Have a great week-plus and now we return to our regularly scheduled programming.

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