Pancakes and Holy Ashes

It was nice to see Joe Biden sportin' an ashen forehead cross on TV yesterday. Love him though we do, it's hard not to see pandering written in the form of dirty thumbprints. Politics!

In related matters, Theo found out that it was Pancake Day across Ireland on Tuesday. Apparently, it’s a tradition to make pancakes or crepes the day before Ash Wednesday as a means to rid refrigerators of any remaining sausages and rashers before Lent begins. It is essentially a temptation attenuation event, and Theo has decided to bring the tradition home with him for next year.

Rag Week

It’s Rag Week in Galway. What began in the 1800’s as a way for university students to raise money for charities (i.e. solicit rags/clothing for the poor) has become more of an excuse to drink and carouse than anything else. Because the Irish need an excuse to drink and carouse. Some funds certainly are raised by student societies throughout Ireland and the UK, but the cost of clean-up to the municipalities – especially in college towns like Galway – outstrips any benefit. The number of broken bottles, discarded beer cans, and random ‘lost lunches’ all over town and including our neighborhood is staggering. Sue even saw some ‘fare jumpers’ bail out of their taxi and flee the cabbie over two stone walls, and all before scoil!

Paul had been warned about Rag Week, and had a significant amount of experience with ethanol-induced behavioral stupidity in college. However, he was a bit surprised when only four students showed up for the midday lecture on Tuesday, and only one of them Irish. So far this semester the average daily attendance rate for his classes is a paltry 58%!! While he’s making no judgments yet, the ‘pass – fail’ curriculum doesn’t seem to inspire much of a work ethic in most students. It’s tough to motivate people to attend lecture and lab, much less study, when the passing percentage for each class is a mere forty percent. Besides, it’s obviously more fun to be loaded and puking on Abbeygate Street at dawn than worrying about silly things like electron transport and chemiosmosis.

London Calling

Teaghlach Melchior got back to Galway last night after a wonderful week at the Walker estate in England. We had an amazing time with Lamia, David and their kids. Alex and Sam immediately hit it off and spent quality bonding time by blowing apart aliens with the various weapons available on X-Box. Meanwhile, Theo and Chloe spent time building with Legos.

On Thursday, we rode the train and underground from High Wycombe to central London, where we spent a great morning at the Tower. The boys enjoyed the castle and its stories. For lunch, we crossed the Thames to the Borough Market – a veritable town of open-air food and vegetable stalls, along with hot food vendors and fish mongers. Theo suggested purchasing the smoked hog’s head for our hosts, but Sue did not think there was enough stowage room in the back pack.

Sam indulged in a Cornish pasty made of venison and pigeon, while Paul enjoyed one filled with rabbit and lamb. They both noticed that Sam’s was a bit more deer in price, but Paul’s weighed just a hare more (and was therefore nothing to squabble about). Theo passed on the opportunity to have a wild boar meat pie, and he and his mom instead chose more conventional sausages. After Sue secured a kilogram of Turkish delight, we headed for Leadenhall Market - Diagon Alley of Harry Potter fame.

Friday morning, Lamia and Alex accompanied us to the British Museum to slake Theo’s hunger for Egyptian sarcophagi and Sumerian man-beast carvings. When we approached the Rosetta stone and were about to explain to him what it was, he burst into an excited dissertation about how ‘this is that rock that the archaeologists used to figure out hieroglyphics!!!!’. Later, we enjoyed the street performers and lunch at Covent Garden, Trafalgar Square, and a stroll around Westminster Abbey.

Saturday was spent at Windsor Castle. Liz was in the house while we were there, but didn’t bother to drop down to see us. We had a wonderful time despite the snub, but her guards were a bit rude at closing time, and Paul asked to have a word with the Queen about it. Because his request was summarily rejected, he is writing to Gordon Brown to ask that she and the whole clan be sacked and replaced by the next available Plantagenet or Stuart heir. Lousy Royals.

We spent Sunday at the British Natural History Museum, which was celebrating Charles Darwin’s 200th birthday. Paul was hoping that his hero’s corpse would be lying in state, but had to settle for reading some of his notebooks and seeing specimens from the Beagle voyages.

Every evening that we spent with the Walkers was better than the previous. The kids got along famously, including and especially Theo and Chloe, both of whom were moved to tears when it was time for us to leave. Sam and Alex removed their respective iPod earphones long enough to bid each other adieu, and off we went. It’s always bittersweet to see old friends, reconnect, and inevitably bid farewell until the next time.

To celebrate our trip to London, this week's song of the blog is A Town Called Malice from one of our favorite British bands from the 1980's, The Jam. Turn it up.

A Day at Sea

Friday was a great day to be a biologist. Well before dawn, Paul boarded Foras na Mara’s (the Irish Marine Institute) research ship R.V. Celtic Voyager and headed into the north Atlantic. Not alone, of course. Ten third-year marine biology students from both GMIT and the National University of Ireland - Galway, two other professors, and an oceanographer from Foras were also on board, as well as the seven man crew. The vessel is equipped with a fascinating trove of high tech equipment to perform everything from cetacean acoustic surveys to sea-floor mapping - multiple sonar arrays, sediment coring devices, and a computer-controlled deep water column sampler just for starters. There is also a full-scale laboratory on the lower deck that is used for bench chemistry and marine fauna analysis.

During the trip the students were put through a rigorous series of stations where they learned everything from physical and chemical testing protocols to sonar techniques and navigation. This was topped off by a hands-on lesson in trawling and catch assessment. What an amazing classroom even for people who grew up along the ocean shore!

The weather was fantastic, which afforded a great view of the Aran Islands from a western vantage - one that only sea-farers are lucky enough to witness. Grey seals, porpoises, and many sea bird species (Gannet seen at left - click on any picture to see a larger view) were common visitors, particularly in the bay. Paul gave an impromptu and suitably romantic lecture about Gavia immer (Loons!), 130 of which were counted in four hours during the afternoon. It was amazing to see so many representatives of Minnesota’s state bird in the North Atlantic. They are the same species, with the only noticeable difference being a slightly smaller body and a distinct brogue in their famous call.

The highlight of the voyage was the trawling demonstration put on by the crew in the late afternoon. The net and sea doors are released and dragged for a time before being retrieved. This rig is not nearly as large as those on commercial trawlers, but is still impressive. Although the Irish fishery is in dire condition, a brief ten minute trawl (commercial boats do five hour runs) brought a 200 lb catch. Thousands of sardines, hake, whiting, and plaice (flounder family) spilled into the deck. A few odd ball rays, dragonets and blennys, as well as starfish, crabs, sea urchins, sponges and sea squirts were also part of the haul. All were sorted, identified, and frozen, except for a sampling of each species that were kept in a bucket for a nine-year old Minnesota boy at home in Galway.

On the journey back into Galway Bay, Paul was able to spend a few hours on the bridge with Captain Ciaran Flanagan, a veteran pilot who has sailed around the planet many times. Ciaran is a 5’4”, wiry old salt from Co. Louth who smokes a pipe and talks so fast that even Paul was no match for him. The two shared many stories about harrowing nights in heavy weather (Paul’s being spent inland and under a roof).

The trip had an interesting finale when, as the Voyager approached Galway late that night, the Irish Navy destroyer Emer escorted her into port before being moored nearby. A fine ending to an amazing maritime experience. After we were moored in Galway harbor, Ciaran invited the rest of the Melchior clan aboard and gave them a Captain’s tour of his ship. Theo’s favorite part, of course, was the bucket of surprises presented to him at the end.

Below is a video clip of the trawl net coming in. We'll leave you today with a fitting Waterboys favorite from the late 1980's.

Multi-Disciplinary Research

After the diatribe on Irish public restrooms, Paul received some interesting commentary from his esteemed colleague, Professor Paul Jentz, of the History Department at NHCC. In the subsequent discussions, the two have developed an interesting hypothesis to explain the grotesque state of these facilities, and present it here for your review.

Pseudo-Fennian Lavatorial Passive-Aggression in 21st Century Ireland
©Melchior and Jentz, 2009

Abstract: Although Ireland has been a self-governing, independent republic since the early 1920's, seven centuries of oppression by the Norman and Anglo-Saxon Empire remains deeply embedded in the Irish psyche. We propose that the generally dismal state in which public men’s bathroom facilities are kept in this otherwise beautiful nation is the result of a residual yet strongly held subconscious desire for continued retribution against former enemies. The fact that women’s rest rooms are better kept further suggests that this low-grade, passive-aggressive campaign is directed primarily at males. While several female monarchs, notably Elizabeth I, oversaw several significant periods of Irish oppression, male kings, military leaders (See Fig. 1 Oliver Cromwell), and landlords were the prevailing targets of Irish hatred. The current state of Irish men’s water closets therefore suggests the message: “Since we can’t get rid of you altogether, we’re going to make at least part of your stay miserable. But not so much for the ladies.”

This hypothesis will undoubtedly require further scholarly analysis to solve potential discrepancies. For example, why are the men’s rooms at colleges and schools that serve an almost exclusively Irish student body also banjanxed? We will keep you apprised of further research.

Song of the Day: Not coincidentally, this song by The Pogues called 'Young Ned of the Hill' betrays the festering hatred for Cromwell nearly 400 years after his death.

Grocery Adventures

Paul’s Top Ten List of Interesting Irish Grocery Store Items

10. Rustic Baps
9. Back Rashers*
8. Dulce
7. Ox Tongue Roll
6. Digestives
5. Bangers*
4. Smoked Plaice
3. Colcannon
2. Tinned Mackerel***
1. Minced Kidneys

*Not a skin disease
**Not nearly as lewd as it sounds
***Even more disgusting than fresh mackerel, which is a food of last resort

Blog Song of the Day: The Unforgettable Fire, a classic from 1983 byU2 - Paul's favorite band of all time, and Ireland's most profitable export after Guinness.

T.H. Melchior - International Sensation

Theo had a face to face with his Wilshire Park 3rd grade class in Minnesota on Tuesday night. Before we left, we set up a webcam, microphone, and Skype connection via the internet with Mr. Nowlin’s room. Theo can see his entire class on our computer, while the kid’s at Wilshire see his Orwellian mug on their giant projection screen. A great and squirrely time was had by all, which Theo shared his experiences, and the kids asked him questions like “Do they have pizza in Ireland?”

Meanwhile, the family reported as required to the Garda Siochana’s immigration office for their long-term visas. We had a great time chatting with Agent Oisin while he cheerfully took our $400 fee for entering the Republic, even though we did so four weeks ago today. Ah, well. Perhaps the government will use our donation to fix a few potholes on Dublin Road.

Speaking of the Garda, Theo had another run in with them on Wednesday afternoon after he his pals Ruth Ann and Ronan were apprehended for truancy in an Eyre Square pub. He was able to make bail with the money he’s been awarded for reading three ‘Jack Russell – Detective’ books.

The Blog Song of the Day is another traditional tune. This is The Blooming Maid of Galway Town sung by Grace Toland, recorded on Inishowen, County Donegal in 2008.

Porcelain Nightmares

Paul and the boys have begun compiling a list of the best and worst public men’s rooms in Ireland. So far only the Galway Museum’s adequately maintained facilities have met the minimum qualifications to be on the 'best' list. However, there are numerous nominees vying for spots on the the latter list. Apparently none of the great wealth generated by 'the boom' was allocated for restroom maintenance. At GMIT, for example, there is a beautiful lab with a new $200,000 HPLC unit and other high-tech pharmaceutical analysis equipment. But walk twelve feet down the hall and you’ll find a men’s room that has been devoid of toilet paper for nine straight days and smells like the wretched outhouse at Ol' Virgil Gehering’s lake cabin near Akeley, Minnesota! Trust me. Perhaps the maintenance staff cannot see this particular latrine – like an Irish version of Harry Potter’s Platform 9 ¾. The rest of the campus' personal facilities are not much better, and Paul has started to pack an emergency Charmin roll in his briefcase.

So far though, all pale comparison to the current front runner. The frigid, cobweb-ridden, stench-fest at Powell’s Music Shop in Galway. Perhaps one can glean some form of cultural appreciation by sitting on its decrepit 19th century porcelain throne. Not Theo. "Noooooo way am I goin' on that dad! No way!" Fair enough, kid. Mind you, none of these has so far eclipsed the horror of the Connoco Station men’s room in Kadoka, South Dakota that we experienced 2003. Epic. Alas, we’ve only been here four weeks. Dublin and Cork should provide stiff competition.

Theo and his class at Wilshire Park in Minnesota had their first 'face to face' on-line chat via Skype. It was fun for all involved, and he shared numerous stories with his classmates, including how the great Mud Kraken sucked his right foot down into the mud at Rin Mohr beach last week. The monster released the boy, but his shoe remained and has not been seen since. The kid got a great laugh about it.

Today's Irish blog tune is one of our favorites from the Irish contemporary folk group Clannad, who hail from Co. Donnegal. This song, Skellig, is about the small island off the Kerry coast that was home to monks in the sixth century!

Kilmacduagh and The Healin' Trough

The clan spend the last Saturday afternoon of January in the ancient town of Athenry. We continued our new hobby of visiting the outside of ruined castles, towers, and monasteries, since they are locked up until the tourist season. The beautiful Dominican Priory built in 1241 is still used for Catholic burials, in addition to some apparently kick-ass beer parties by the local hooliganry. Sam and Theo enjoyed their lunch at a country pub on the way home. Afterward, Theo was denied his request to drive the car home.

Sunday morning’s sun gave us the go, and we made for County Clare with our car full of camera equipment, guide books, and all manner of Indiana Jones survival equipment. On our way through the Burren – a great expanse of exposed sedimentary rock – we accidentally found the finest monastic ruin experience yet! The well groomed complex of Kilmacduagh, nestled out in farm country, is a national monument. The old farmer on whose property it resides doubles as the Republic’s caretaker for the site. He summoned us to his house, handed us a ring of keys and said, ‘Enjoy yourselves and treat her well. You have honest faces’. Though he may be a poor judge of character, Niall is the fourth consecutive generation of his family to hold these sacred keys.

We were awed by the place. Five churches, a small monastic house, and the tallest round tower still standing in Ireland. Beautifully carved inscriptions on wall-mounted tombs note death dates back to the early 1600’s, while even older stones have relinquished their inscriptions to the wind and rain. It’s a moving experience to think of all the hands that, over many centuries, dipped into the holy water vessels still found in the nave. The churches at Kilmacduagh operated for nearly a millennium before they were sacked for the last time by the Cromwellian ironsides. Today, nearly four hundred years later, they are no less majestic, and still surrounded by sheep! No, we’re not smoking Irish weed, folks. Just drinking history.

From there, it was a pleasant drive to the coast. The Cliffs of Mohr are an amazing site and worth the drive, even if you are foolish enough to go through Liscannor. The little town is only three miles from the cliffs, but no signs warn you of the peril ahead. Derreen. The road –which is of typical Irish width and with vertical stone walls for shoulders – runs through this hamlet. Immediately next to the road is St. Brigid’s Holy Well – and requisite emporium - where elderly Catholics from all over Ireland converge via car and fall into an immediate trance whereupon they lose all driving sense and park in the middle of the tiny road.

The abandoned walkers and canes in the grotto are testament to the tremendous healing powers attributed to a dip in ‘Ol St. Brigid’s crystal waters. And yet, we wonder how many innocents have been forced over the edge of sanity, not to mention the deep gorge on the other side of the road, while trying to make their way through the papist throngs. How many cases of cryptosporidiosis have ensued after a brief bath in her well-used waters? Who can say? We can only assume that the sum of roadside carnage and gastrointestinal distress pale in comparison to the greater good. Perhaps those trials, and the eleven dollar parking fee once you arrive at Mohr, are simply God’s way of making the Cliffs seem just a little more spectacular. We can only hope.

Our Irish Blog Song O' The Day is "The Morning Thrush" by the late uilleann piper Seamus Ennis.