I found a cool coffee shop with good coffee. That's a feat because Dubliners love their mediocre coffee. Some bald Kiwi moved here and mixed up his own blend of beans and opened a few stores. When I say bald, I'm not being purposefully mean or anything. The place is called the Bald Barista. I went the other day and wrote the France Day 1 post over a latte the size of my head. While I was sipping it, a few Eastern European tourists bought espresso and asked for water with it. In the hardcore, we-don't-serve-iced-espresso coffee world, it is considered an insult to sip water after espresso. It shows the barista that his shot of espresso was bitter and can't be savoured. The Bald Barista himself came out and told them that they were undermining the coffee he roasted and brought them americanos because it was evidently something they could handle.
Last Friday I laboriously rolled out of bed at 6:30 to walk to the Immigration Center and register as a foreign student. I may have outlined the completely logical system that Ireland uses with foreign students before, so bear with me. Upon entering the country, if the customs officer feels like it, for instance if his coffee from Cafe Sol was bad or his wife made him sleep on the couch, (s)he can charge you 150 Euro to be here. It's like paying for a visa, except it's at the mercy of whomever you meet when you touch down on the Emerald Isle. It reminds me of businesses paying protection money to the mob, not that I'm implying anything. It would probably just be easier to charge everybody 80% of the 150 Euro instead of shaking down a student when you feel like it. Besides seeming more fair, we are putting money into the Irish economy at a time of soaring unemployment and shrinking consumption. Why would you want to give us a bad taste in the mouth? But I had to go pay it, so I did. I stood in line for about half an hour to get a ticket, and be told to come back in 3 hours. I went to the TCD library and researched for a paper for the Semester Start-Up program. I cam back and played Sudoku for a few hours more while waiting to show my passport, registration forms with TCD, and that I have enough money to leave. Then I got the equivalent of my green card, only 5 and a half hours after I first got in line. That makes me really wonder how horrible it must be to get a visa or apply for citizenship in the US. I imagine that it's easier to get a visa in Ireland as an American than for a foreigner coming to the US. I couldn't even imagine how frustrating it would be to try to get into the States as an academic, let alone a refugee with little or no labor skills.
Before the very moment that I write this, it had not rained more than a few spits of mist since the week of September 7th. It didn't even rain in Galway or the Aran Islands. That's not the Ireland I imagined, and I think it's probably a surprise for other Americans as well.
Last week marked the 250th anniversary of the Guinness brewery's founding (that's older than the United States). For weeks the city was getting ready for a unified toast to Arthur Guinness. At 5:59 PM, or 17:59 (get it? - since the year it was founded was 1759), there was revelry. At the pub that I was at, Doyle's, the Guinness company was putting on a Guitar Hero tournament with prizes for the winners. A couple of friends from Wash U and I tried our darnedest and we WON!!! I got an awkwardly-fitting long-sleeve t-shirt that had the 250th anniversary logo on it and an iPod docking station with the same logo. Score.
There is more to come soon on my amazing trip to Paris!
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