"Abby. Abby. Can I call you Abbs?" 10/18-10/25

The next day marked the first day of the world famous Cork Jazz Festival. That day my friend Kristen came over and we poured over the pamphlet and schedule decided which acts we would make our priority. Tonight's act was Pete Molinari and Band at the Crane Lane. We decided on Molinari solely because I love the atmosphere at Crane Lane, but little did we know that we would soon be on a first name basis with the entire band. 

  

I knew it was going to be a good night when on our way to Crane Lane we walked by a stand giving away free coffee and tea, which made the cold walk a little bit more bearable. Unfortunately we are very naive and tried to bring our tea into the pub. What a dumb thing to do. Since when have you ever been able to bring any liquid into any venue. From Subway to airplanes, movie theaters to pubs, it just isn't allowed. The bouncer was nice enough and chatted with us about the United States as we sipped on our tea.  

Pete Molinari on stage

Once inside the pub we wandered through the rooms until we located the stage where we posted up at 9:25 for a show that was listed as starting at 9:30. Newbie mistake number 2. When has a concert ever started at the time listed? Never. We small talked and people watched while we waited for the show taking particular interest in a small man wearing Beetlejuice looking pants, Austin Powers shoes with a heel, a striped blazer with a polka-dot tie, and a velvet fedora. "Who let him leave the house like that?" We joked. Meanwhile a man in an equally silly outfit (although more rockabilly and thus in style) took the stage and tuned every single guitar only the leave the stage when he was done. "He couldn't be a roadie, could he?" "I thought roadies wore black." "Maybe he just really likes to tune guitars." 

Our mean spirited conversation was cut short when the small man in stripes took the stage and said over the microphone, "If my band is somewhere around here, could they please come on stage." The two men we had just been mocking were the lead singer and lead guitarist of the band we had come to see. Just another example of how people in bands can be utterly ridiculous in the real world, but once they go on stage transform into the coolest people alive. 

Biggest fans

The concert started and Kristen and I ended up in the front row. The music reminded me of a mix of Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and Elvis Presley, and I was loving it! Kristen and I danced the evening away making eye-contact with the band and making what would eventually be inside jokes. After the show we hung around so we could get a picture with the band because we were obviously the greatest members of the crowd and their new big fans! The crowd rushed in on them as they came off stage to congratulate and flash their cameras so we waited patiently.  

Once the crowds had cleared, Pete came up to us, followed by the band. We introduced ourselves, took a picture, and congratulated them on a wonderful show. After a while of talking a DJ came on and we all started dancing only to be harassed by some drunk fan so we went outside  to the smoking area (which technically is still inside the pub, but is more like a patio) with our band-bought Guinnesses. Here Pete turned to me and said, "Abby. Abby. Can I call you Abs?" Who was I to say no? When a rock star gives you a nick-name you accept it with grace. 

We stayed on the patio laughing, talking with fans, and speaking Spanish with the Italian group until 2:30 when the pub closed. From here we travelled to the main street and danced to a musician playing Louis Armstrong. Eventually we parted ways with the band promising to get together on Sunday when they stopped back into Cork before heading back to England or at least in touch via email. 

  

The next morning was spent in the city center getting coffee with the band manager (who the heck am I, I know! Since when do I get coffee with band managers!?), shopping for another pair of comfortable and cheap shoes, and then heading to a concert in the park. The band this time was a bunch of middle aged men who had given their band name a bad pun. The audience at this show consisted of little kids and their parents, so it was much more low key. That didn't stop us from getting attention from the band who, in between songs, looked at us and said, "Ladies, you can't enjoy the show and not buy a CD." Which was followed by, "Yeah, there's no such thing as a free lunch!" No matter where we go, the band just loves us. 

Enjoying the concert in the park

From the show we headed into the city center to the Franciscan Well, a pub well-known for their local brews and their Oktoberfest! We arrived around 6:30 hoping to enjoy some free barbecue and a pint of foreign ale only to be so overwhelmed by the masses of 30 somethings that had too much to drink! We were hardly even able to complete a lap around the place before getting so overwhelmed we had to leave. So where did we go? A restaurant called "Captain America's!" It's sort of like Red Robin, only much tastier. I had an order of chicken fajitas and they were delicious! You can take the girl out of California, but you can't take the California out of the girl. 

Full of tasty food we headed over to watch a duo that performed jazz electronica at a club called Bodega. The club is incredibly cool inside and is sort of a mix between a warehouse, a fancy bar in NYC, and Urban Outfitters. It's hip, to say the least and was the perfect venue to see Goldfish, a DJ duo that mix DJing with live improvisation, one member plays the stand up bass while the other plays the flute and saxophone. You wouldn't expect that these two from a tiny town in South Africa would make such great jazz! My friend Jessie and I grooved our way to the front and had we wanted, we could have reached out a done a little DJing ourselves. After one particularly great song we let out a "woo hoo" causing one of he members of Goldfish to look at us a give us a big smile. I don't know what it was about this weekend, but I've never gotten so many smiles from members of bands! 

Enjoying Gulden Draak at the Franciscan Well

The next day was fairly tame and pretty much jazz-free, except for the unexpected call from Pete Molinari. After a quick chat with Pete and the lads explaining that Kristen and I were too tired for dinner I  went into town with a friend of mine and tried our odds at the Franciscan Well once more. Being a Sunday evening the Well was much less intimidating although still pretty crowded because the next day was a bank holiday! Since I am not so much a beer connoisseur I took recommendations from my friends and the bartenders and ordered a pint of Gulden Draak, which according to the menu "balances a natural malt toffee-like sweetness with some hoppy accents. The aroma is round, sweet and reveals the 10.5 alcohol by volume." Basically, all I understand from that is that one pint=4 standard drinks and that it is a drink that is meant to be slowly!

Not having school on Monday was really a treat! I just lay in bed all day watching TV, planning my Halloween costume, and preparing for the week to come!

"It's called brown sauce because it is brown." 10/18-10/21

First I want to apologize for the lack of pictures in this post. I won't be offended if no one reads it! Even I didn't want to reread it. 

But, let me say, what a crazy end to an incredibly tame week! I spent most of it lounging around the house complaining about my sore throat and making myself soup. In my defense, it was a pretty bad sore throat! On Tuesday I had my second lesson with Connie, which went pretty well considering the amount of time I spent practicing fiddle, don't worry, Mom, my practicing has increased! That evening a bunch of girls and I went out because Ruby's sister was visiting all the way from Iowa! We went to the Old Oak, which is a pretty low key tame pub catering towards clientele aged 35 and above. The band playing that evening performed all of my favorite bad music. In the middle of one number I noticed a poster for a band called "Dead Cat Bounce" that was playing the next night. What a horrible band name, I thought to myself realizing that I had told a friend of mine that I would go see his cousin's band with him the next night at the Old Oak. Instantly the name grew on me and naturally I took the poster off the wall as a souvenir! 

Dead Cat Bounce is a comedy rock band that plays a fun mix of weird music they wrote about rugby being an invention for the closet homosexuals or how mustaches die when you shave and a sort of mash up a la Girl Talk (only with a life band). The concert proved to be quite fun and well worth the freezing walk down into town.  We stuck around to congratulate the band and that's when the first of two band members who would buy me a drink this week bought me a drink. Go me! After sipping on my Carlsberg we all headed over to the Brogue for some "Twist and Shout" and then to Tasty Kebab for the usual midnight snack, this time it was a chicken sandwich though I really prefer the doner kebab! 

Thursday proved to be the exciting day of celebration to start to my weekend! First, my 10:00 nutrition course had been cancelled, second it was my last immunology lecture! That means no more thinking I have every single possible disease on the face of the planet (commonly referred to as Medschoolitis) and no more stodgy old men talking down to me while simultaneously failing to properly execute a PowerPoint presentation. 

To begin the celebrations I turned on the heat in my room for the first time and took a nap in my sauna waking up just in time for Swedish dinner! Ruby and I had met two Swedish girls on our trip to the Ring of Kerry and we had made plans to have each other over to eat our native dishes!  Because they are Swedish they got on the ball and made it happen. At 8:00 (a very Swedish time to eat!) my neighbors Ian and Mikael (also Swedish) walked down through town to their apartment on the way I stopped at "Fine Wines" to buy a 6 euro bottle of Californian wine to give the hostesses! 

The Swedes' apartment is right in the middle of the city center and is cute as can be. When we got there ABBA was blasting and two giant pans of meatballs were frying-it was definitely going to be a good night. We all chatted about music, American culture vs. Swedish culture, and school while putting the finishing touches on dinner. Before the appetizers the Swedes convinced Ian and me to try some Swedish candy. It's so funny to walk around Stockholm because literally everywhere you go there's candy. Adults buy the daily paper at a stand in the subway along with a couple pieces of gummy candies. The candies they encouraged us to try were absolutely the worst candy I had ever eaten! The first was a chalky version of a Tootsie Roll and the second was a piece of black licorice covered in salt. It was hard to control my reaction, but the Swedes just laughed it off. "Different than American candy, hm?" They said as they popped another couple salt balls into their mouths. After the candy experiences, I was nervous for the actual meal, it all looked so good, but so did the candy!

To start we ate hard-boiled eggs with caviar from a tube (a common Swedish thing. It's funny such composed people LOVE caviar from what looks like a tube of L'Occitane lotion). Once I got past the caviar in a tube concept I really enjoyed the tasty combination of salt and warm egg. Now this was more what I had in mind! Once the eggs were polished off my friend Hanna raised her glass and said "Bifallsrop," Swedish for cheers! I picked up my wine glass and she looked at me and laughed. "No, no, no! You must cheers with the vodka!" I had been so engrossed in my hors d'oeuvres eating that I had failed to notice my own tumbler full of the nasty smelling clear liquid called vodka. 'Oy vey,' I thought to myself, 'I have to participate in all the cultural traditions!  No excuses, Jones.' 

Mikael pointed out that there's always one person who decides to cheers every five minutes. During this meal it was Hanna, she worked like clockwork. 

lingonberry sauce. Basically, Swedish meatballs are like their version of Thanksgiving complete with gravy (brown sauce made from the grease of the meatballs) and cranberry sauce (lingonberry sauce in this case).

 

The meal was absolutely delicious and in the presence of my hip European friends I actually took the time to enjoy it, instead of doing my usual Scooby Doo shove and swallow. When I was in Sweden I had noticed how Swedish people never really put down their fork and knife and that they use both utensils to delicately eat every bite, scraping the food onto the fork with their knife. Meanwhile the two Americans at the table are using their fork to cut and shovel and their fingers to ensure the bite makes it safely on the prongs. We're really gross eaters. 

After a hearty serving of seconds it was time for dessert. Unlike the salty candies that had preceded the meal, dessert was a familiar favorite--brownies. According to Hanna, it's more like cake than brownies, but regardless it was tasty! On top we put berries, vanilla ice cream, and whipped cream. After we ere too full to enjoy any more we sat around and talked about the Swedish royal family and some common Swedish phrases before doing the dishes. Luckily they have a dish washer, so getting very plate cleaned didn't take too long and before we knew it we were off to the Brogue to meet up with some friends, dance around, and get lots of beer spilled on me due to the abundance of drunk American and Irish boys. Seriously, why try to dance with a full beer? It's never a good idea, ever.