A Summer in Ireland

Ahhh… That summer was the deep breath of my life at the time. I had just gotten away from Germany and all the oppression associated with my years there – I needed something really amazing to put me in a new frame of mind. And it did. I looked online to find a room to rent, and connected with Alison in Balbriggan, who promised me a sea view from my room and a beach just a few steps away across the field.

When I arrived in that fresh lushness, it was a balm to my ragged spirit, and I continued to write my current novel, Legendary Space Pilgrims, with new inspiration. Some readers say they can tell when my mindset changed along with my location.

But writing wasn’t all I did. At a tiny local church I met a new friend and we proceeded to go on lots of outings together – mostly day trips in the area around Dublin, but also a couple of weekends away in the West and North. Andrea has since become a good friend and we’ve visited back and forth a few times too.

Looking at the pictures I took back then, I’m amazed at the huge variety of places I got to see, the stunning vistas, the rocky shores (I was showing the album to someone recently and she asked me, why so many pictures of rocks? I suppose that’s what the coast is mainly made of…), the castles and ruins, the green land in its mantle of fecund humidity.

I love Ireland, and I can’t wait to get back there someday.

Amazing Places: Ireland Instagram

I recently came across a lovely Instagram feed from Abarta Audioguides in Ireland. They've got an awesome collection of shots of those old ruins and landscapes that give Ireland its ancient mystique. Check it out at http://instagram.com/abartaaudioguides.

Reboot Actor Morphs

Over at DeviantArt, user ThatNordicGuy has begun a fascinating project whereby he uses photo editing software to combine half of one face with half of another. Most of them are Star Trek actors: half Original Series, and half JJ Reboot. I could scarcely believe it until I squinted and covered one side of each face at a time, and then one person or the other became clear. Goes to show just how well the new movie was cast, that these faces mostly fit very well as a mirror image of the original actor. Be sure to check out the full size images here.

That time I got stuck in Timbuktu

Okay, this is where things get crazy. Or maybe things were already crazy a long time before that, who knows?

I flew from Germany to meet several Kiwi friends in Ghana. We proceeded to trek through Burkina Faso and then Mali, which last is where these pictures are from. In Mali we visited several World Vision project villages and were duly presented with a chicken by the elders of each. The above picture is from a school visit; we had brought puppets to show the children, and these caused huge excitement everywhere we went.

Then came an opportunity to visit Timbuktu in the northern reaches of Mali. So we did. Except we got stuck there, because the return flight we'd been sold didn't exist. Our friends drove up from the capital to help get us back to our next flight on time.

The lower picture is a street in Timbuktu. At the edge of the Sahara, this ancient city is constantly under threat of being inundated by sand. The buildings are mostly mud brick, with patterns scratched on them to stop the surface from cracking. We slept in the open on one of the roofs.

Rural Bavaria

   

For a country with only a little more land area than my own and twenty times the population, it has always surprised me that there is so much open country in Germany—where the silence is so heavy you can feel it, and the pace of life is slow and settled. This can be explained in part by the presence of apartment blocks even in rural villages, and of course the high density of the cities.

Country folks speak different dialects to city folks; they often travel far for school and work, and the young people move out when it comes time to take up tertiary study. A transport network of occasional buses links up the tiny townships with their little supermarkets, fire departments, and primary schools.

The larger villages also offer amenities along their tiny main streets: perhaps a baker, a butcher, a hairdresser, a driving school, and most likely a restaurant or two of the type where retired farmers are likely to spend the day nursing a pint of local beer and talking politics. The food available in such establishments is simple, filling and good value—even if it can be on the heavy side with its dumplings and gravies.

Cycling from village to village is a singular experience in Bavaria, as the edge of the settlement is clearly defined: one minute you’re passing tall housing blocks, and the next you’re in amidst the farmer’s fields with nary a soul in sight.

In the summer, the dry heat wafts up from the reflecting earth, and fields of corn and hay ripple in the breeze while dark conifer forests loom beyond the warm haze. Village dwellers can be found fishing in tiny lakes and walking their dogs on farm tracks between the fields, dotted here and there with a pilgrim’s cross or tiny chapel shrine to a saint. The hills of Bavaria are gentle, providing an easy walk for hot days.

In winter, blankets of snow intensify the silence until it becomes almost a personality in its own right. Fresh-tilled soil soon freezes solid. Out the window, the forest trees and the icy fields turn the world into a black and white movie, and you could easily believe you’ve travelled back a hundred years in time.

On Parking

rainy day, rainbow haze
parked at the jetty.
green waves breaking
on shelly beach and concrete walls.
clarity of the hills beyond the channel
shifts to falling water
Others park here, sitting, watching.
cars as offices, their windows fogged
Proud seagulls preen atop lampposts
outrigger canoes slice water
while slanting rain
wraps islands in mystery
Day’s end glows
and behind, in the west
blue skies beckon
then the moment is gone
dimness falls
I will need headlights to get home again
but first I will sit here a while longer
absorbing the ocean
its last reflections of sungleam
in the clearing sky
as rainstorms move out across the gulf
clouds dragging thick straight tendrils
that rush to the waves
and the seabirds wheeling above
who catch the light that remains

Rangitoto Island: Sleeping Volcano

By far the largest—and youngest— in the Auckland volcanic region, Rangitoto sits at the gateway to the city and is visible from any position high enough. It’s a classic shield-shaped volcano where the lava pouring out built up into an island, high and steep in the centre, low and flat at the edges, and circular in shape.

It is said to have erupted around 600 years ago, which is not long in volcanic terms. Motutapu is its immediate island neighbour, separated only by a few metres of causeway, but is not volcanic—it was there a long time before.

Rangitoto is a cliché of sorts in Auckland, an oft-photographed icon, yet so few tourists or locals visit its shores. That is a day trip very much worth doing: a short ferry ride from the city deposits you at a solitary wharf, and a couple of hours walking (or a ride on the tractor wagon if you want to cheat) will get you to the top, where you will be rewarded with a fantastic 360° view of the Hauraki Gulf, its islands, and the city of Auckland, which, though huge, is distinctly reduced by viewing it from the summit of a mountain.

Due to its young nature, there is no real soil on the island—merely decomposed debris lodged in the cracks between the lava. Hence the forest too is young, and sparse in places. There are even fields of bare volcanic rock that make you think you’re on another planet. Also, there are caves in the lava on the flanks of the hill as it becomes steeper towards the top: created by air bubbles in liquid rock which then solidified, leaving these irregular open spaces.

Ships pass by in the Rangitoto Channel to Auckland’s container wharves, and on summer evenings the cruise ships leave town by the same route, all lit up like Christmas trees, and dwarfed by the 260-metre volcano.

Always there, always brooding, often with a cloud darkening its top in otherwise clear skies—it is difficult to describe what Rangitoto means to a local who’s grown up in its shadow. A marvel of nature, definitely. A sleeping threat, perhaps. A symbol of home, for sure.

In case you missed it last year, here's my video of a visit there...

Random Wednesday Poetry

coming of the night

the evening shade slips across the gentle hills

the higglety-pigglety houses, the treetops

the skyscrapers

the volcanos

each place the sun rests its final kiss

is set aglow in golden tones

before the darkness creeps in

and the sea takes on its night hue

russet shining grasslands

on the islands

deepening texture of the forest

now touched by the fingers of the dusk

eastern clouds reflect the sunset glory

wisps of pink in an apricot sky

wink! the sun reflects from an apartment block window

before the shadow consumes the thirtieth floor

lights blink on across the city

the sky is still red and grey

matching the oak tree’s leaves and bark

as day surrenders to blissful rest

and inside, the lamps go on

work goes on as soft rain appears

the cat’s whiskers twitch in her tight curled sleep

and home is a wonderful place to be.