A Week Of Immersion In The UK And Ireland: Part I

The Obsession Leads To Major Questions

After losing my camera in Stockholm I had resigned myself to my camera phone.  That resignation lasted only days before I started the search.  Yes, the search.  Oh man, did I search.


The ship would travel from Stockholm to the Baltics, specifically Tallinn, Helsinki, and St. Petersburg.  It would stay for three days in St. Petersburg, and then dock in Copenhagen for the end of the cruise and the start of a run throughout Ireland and the UK.  Throughout the course of a fortnight I searched and scoured the Internet for cameras.


For budding photographers, the camera world can seem immense.  At first I never thought to delve so deep into it, because I thought any and all digital pictures looked great.  "Any camera is a good camera if you know how to use it," a colleague of mine once said.  Well...once I started noticing the details, the critic in my brain went haywire.  


I was now stuck with a camera phone that did little to tweak the image to what I was seeing. It was good in the sense that colors were fairly accurate, and the HDR was fairly successful. It was bad in the sense of the inconsistency of those features.  


I wanted a tool that would interact with the world the way I needed it to.  


I submerged myself in reviews and new photography terms.  I would pop open yet another review on this or that camera night after night.  I would compare them to the two or ten other cameras I had read about the night before, and more questions would arise.  The snowball effect was rampant night after night, the sheer momentum of it carrying me past my sense of time ("oh crap, it's 2;30am already?!").  

My obsession of wanting a camera turned into a need.  But, I didn't know if I had the money. At the time I had a savings plan for a move across the US, to live with my girlfriend-at-the-time in Brooklyn.  My camera-phone was almost good enough to interact with the world.  My finances were almost large enough for a new camera.  Almost was fueling my obsession; almost was tempting me day after day to find a camera store; almost was making me giddy as much as it was wracking my nerves.


My need for a new camera filtered out slowly to my friends and colleagues.  Eventually it caught the ear of the drummer at the time.  As a photographer, he was all about post-production.  I never thought about it.  How naive I was not to have considered it in the first place.  


Now I had the tools to give my "inferior" photos from three years ago superior potential.  I have thousands upon thousands of those photos.  Now I could make them better.  


The result was that I became even more obsessed with the idea of a new camera.  

Hmmm...the blacks are mottled, and overall details are iffy.  Oh, and sharpness
grows terrible the more I zoom in.

In modest Helsinki I nearly bought a used mirrorless camera
and lens for a grand.   

Ah; but usually the camera phone turns out some great moments.

My blog on St. Petersburg is here.

In vast St. Petersburg (actually, the first day was kind of eventful on account of a visit to the dentist for an inflamed nerve; I'm just glad they didn't have to perform a root canal), I almost walked into the outskirts of the city to buy a DSLR (alone, might I add; one shouldn't venture into St. Petersburg very far alone.  My common sense eventually dissuaded me from that trek).

Sometimes the HDR just doesn't want to happen.
The identical shot to this one had a great HDR effect.   

And more details left to be questioned...  I did some
minor editing on the sharpness of this image.

In lovely little Tallinn I found the prices to be too high for my pockets.  




The more I used this camera phone, the more accustomed I grew to it...and the more I yearned for an actual camera.  

















This contract would end in November 2016, and then I was planning to move to Brooklyn. The prospect of living in New York City with my partner and making music with countless amazingly talented people--it was going to be a great change, a fantastic reality-to-be that would take my life to infinite heights within a city that had absolutely captured my heart. The girl and the city...that was all I was thinking about...leading up to the disappearance of my camera two weeks ago.  


Now, my mind was overridden with thoughts of a new camera.  They just, wouldn't, go, away.  Was my obsession part of a deeper desire?  I needed a good reason for why I would obsess over something like a camera.  A camera was the best way I interacted with the world. I wanted a great camera in order to do so.  So therefore...did I want to stop interacting with the world? 


These thoughts intensified on the day in Copenhagen, where we ended the cruise.  I can never get enough of Copenhagen.  I woke early, fighting off my tiredness with the anticipation of fiery wanderlust.  I walked for hours, far and wide, from the outskirts near the main port area:

...and into the city centre proper.

Beautiful Copenhagen City Hall....  Copenhagen never
ceases to amaze me.

Was I truly done with travel? 

My Family In Ireland

The day finally arrived when the ship would dock for two days and one night in Dublin, Ireland.


Irene, Brian, Noreen, Kevin, Joan, Kevin, Aidan, Connor, Molley, Gavin, Janet.  Thinking back on it, I'd greeted them all within a three-minute period.  I'd never met that many people at once in my life. I'd never met that many people from another country in my life.


Irene, Noreen, and Joan are the daughters of my great-grandfather's sister.  I was to meet them on the second day (actually, the first day was kind of eventful on account of--surprise!--a follow-up visit to the dentist to put a permanent filling on my tooth; no more inflammation on my nerve.  From Russia to Ireland I had had this strange dental-procedure journey).


Noreen's son Aidan was there, who is more my mom's age, and there were his kids, Gavin and Janet.  When not working his day job, Aidan is a singer and musician.  While I didn't speak with young Janet too much, Gavin and I hit it off well because we are both saxophone players!  He is a fine player and will be going far, I'm sure.  
Noreen's husband is Kevin, who used to work at the all-too-famous Guinness factory.  I was not offered a Guinness, because they could not procure anymore.  The reason why?  The UEFA Euro 2016 was in its final stages, and subsequently what Kevin had access to was sold-out!  I did, however, drink a "1916 Proclamation Porter."  It was heavy, bitter, and the awesomeness of drinking something named after a major event in the history of my family was epic.
Joan's husband, also named Kevin, is an author.  Joan is an award-winning costume designer in film and television.    
Irene's grandchildren were there, too: Connor and Molley.  Molley is the older cousin to Janet, who was about to enter into secondary school with Molley.  


Brian, the host and Irene's husband, is a retired lawyer.  He didn't speak much.  Despite his reticence, Brian had a fierce vibrance in his blue eyes that was representative of all he has done.  My grandmother tells me that in his heyday Brian had been a dear of a man: vastly intelligent, good-natured, and loving toward all.  Such wisdom, kindness, and generosity are naturally perceived in people like him.  His ocean eyes told it all.


Irene, the hostess, spoke it all.  For herself and Brian.  From the moment she invited me into their home, wisdom, kindness, and generosity combined into an omnipresent warmth as gracious as the rolling emerald hills of the country.  


Within that gracious warmth were questions.  Many questions.  How long have I been working on ships?  Do you like it?  How's the food?  Do you have a roommate?  How big is the ship?  Is there a bar/disco for crew to go to?  What's California like?  Where have you gone in the world?  (It's hard not to sound boastful...).  What's your favorite place?  (Oh my gosh...where to start...).  And, "it sounds so amazing, what you do!"


Would that I could describe the culmination of my experiences in words....


Within that gracious warmth I had no inclination to the passing of time, so it caught me off guard slightly when lunch was finally ready to be served.  There was an absolute feast to be had, all within the most homey but lovely dining room I had seen in...well, it may have been a first for me.  Pasta, casserole, salad, potatoes, garlic bread, and delicious fresh Irish bread too, made by Aidan.  The constant, happy talking continued.  More questions.  Laughter, of course.  I was surrounded by family-strangers, floating on their joyous curiosity within an Irish home halfway around the world.  My historical porter was gone by that time, but I swore I would keep the bottle.  



After the incredible lunch we all filtered this way and that.  Aidan persuaded Gavin to bring out his saxophone and play.  He played "Summertime."  He played that tune with the solid, pure sound I wish I had had when I was his age.  He is really going places.


Connor, Noreen, Irene, Gavin, Molley, Janet, and I went into the backyard.  Much of the talking came from Connor.  He proved to have an exceptional mind and the maturity to go along with it.  I don't recall ever meeting an adolescent like that.  There, on the patio overlooking hedges of roses and a modest green lawn, some great conversations ensued.  Throughout that timeless afternoon the gracious warmth, now a part of me, also became a part of Dublin.  


Connor spoke about the mandatory learning of Gaelic in schools.  He said that although it's perfectly understandable that the country is trying to preserve the language, students tend to lose interest in the subject at the least, and dislike it at the most.  Gavin, Janet, and Molley all agreed to some extent.  At first I was surprised to hear about this attitude.  For me, the idea of learning Gaelic, the ancient language of my ancestors, is as Romantic as it gets.  And then again I never grew up in Ireland being forced to learn it.  Connor basically said that if it were an option, rather than a requirement, then students might take a liking to it.  It would be a fun thing to learn for those who want to learn it.  Requiring it makes it a chore.  I could understand that.


Connor went on to compare the US educational system with that of Ireland's.  Both Connor and Molley went to school in San Francisco before moving to Dublin (Connor's friends affectionately call him "the Yank" because of that), and so he was able to draw fine distinctions between each system. Whereas in the states we are pretty much told which subjects we should take and how much knowledge we need to obtain in those subjects to move ahead, in Ireland the allowance of individually "customizing" a path is more loose.  In other words, at year five and after, students in secondary school have more of a say about taking subjects that suit them personally.  The subjects they choose will help them in obtaining their Leaving Certificate.  A list of those subjects, as well as a summation of the school system in Ireland, can be found here.


We then moved on to other, darker things.  I suppose one of us mentioned the tragic shooting in Orlando, Florida...or perhaps the truck attack in Nice.  I can't remember which. But, I did eventually ask about the Troubles in Northern Ireland.  Within me my curiosity reigned, I guess.  I found no opposition to the subject.  They were fine talking about it.


Connor began with what he had learned.  Of course, there were atrocities on both sides...but in his opinion it was the Protestants who were more despicable.  His statement is reinforced by the history of proprietorial, economic, and civil rights discriminations against Catholics. Noreen talked about this as well; in particular, she reached into the poignant history of property and employment discrimination by the Stormont regime in the 20th century.  Of course, there has also been the wider spread of Catholic discrimination dating back hundreds of years.  I didn't pry into what she or her sisters experienced during The Troubles.  Of course there was the bombing in Dublin in May, 1974...but other than that I was unsure of just how much The Troubles impacted Dublin or my family.


And we talked, and talked some more.  Noreen mentioned meeting one of my immediate aunts when she visited Dublin years ago.  Gavin and I talked about the saxophone, jazz, and the life of a cruise ship musician.  More talking.  Laughter, of course.   I could not go; the afternoon began to wane, but I could not go....  The sun had peeked through the clouds some unknown time ago; I didn't know when.  I was having such the day of discovery and happiness with these wonderful family-strangers.  


It was surprisingly warm underneath that shine; it was matching the gracious warmth.  The clouds rolled swiftly overhead in sparse, full cauliflower patches.  It was Southern California weather....  My Dublin family was grateful for it.  They indeed mentioned that the sun comes out consistently for only two or three weeks during the year.  I suppose I brought the Cali sun with me.  Yet this was altogether different.  It was...more than.  Better than.  A quality of natural loveliness I was only beginning to understand....  


I was sad to leave.  I was introduced to the tip of the iceberg of life in Dublin.  Never before had I immersed myself into a place this much.  It was a blessing to have done so amongst family.  


Gavin and Noreen accompanied me in Aidan's car as he took me back to the ship.  Weren't we all still at the house? I felt right at home.  I must return someday.


Since that morning, time had had such a transparent quality that it transformed and embroidered itself around the substance of the day.  In my elation I forgot the definition of time, because it was more than.  It made me forget what negativity feels like, because I felt more than.  It also made me forget to take a photo with the family--it was so much more than. 

 There Are The Sights, And There Are The Locals

Often, I will get up early in the morning when the ship is in port for two or more days.  I'll pull myself out of bed using determined excitement.  I'll take a warming shower, then saunter to the staff mess and have a large breakfast.  The process is quick, because my excitement grows by the moment.  


The day after meeting my family members I went far into the city.  

I could have taken the walkway all the way down the River Liffey...
but walking into the city was more rewarding on this first trip.
Shortly thereafter...

I found myself entering the grounds of Trinity College across the river.

Experiencing historic Trinity College and the Book of Kells left me in a stupor of fascination--though the Long Room at Trinity College's library, above the Book of Kells' display, fascinated me even more so.  

The sheer volume of books stunned me...and then I began to think about the sheer volume of knowledge contained within each book.  The priceless lure of unknown knowledge is an ultimate treasure of human existence and potential.  I was overwhelmed by this unknown knowledge; these books seemed innumerable as stars in the heavens.  Humans survive based upon knowledge.  For me, the Long Room became one of the finest representations of that notion.

As for the Book Of Kells, its many pages and display cases were not allowed to be photographed.  But this link includes the story of its origins, as well as photographs of some of the renowned examples of the stunningly intricate, wonderfully lavish artistry with which the medieval monks of old passionately crafted each page.  There are hundreds of strikingly crafted pages.  I never thought to know of such awe-inspiring finesse from the ancient world.  The motivation of the heavens was obvious.  It was almost like looking at the perfection of nature, and the perfection of God.

My next stop was going to be one of history, archaeology, and religion: 

Christchurch Cathedral.

From 2013

From 2013

What you can see about the history of
Christchurch Cathedral is in the right portion of the church.
Dublinia, a museum dedicated to Ireland's viking history,
is in the left portion of the church.

When I entered Christchurch Cathedral, a kind of noble pride soared through me from within the almost somber beauty 0f the church, rooted in history.  Notably, the Choir of Christchurch Cathedral, a choir that was established in the 15th century, participated in the first performance of Handel's Messiah in the city in 1742.  Today its reputation remains renowned. 

The tomb of Strongbow, the famed Norman lord and leader. 

Archaeology is a major part of Christchurch's importance, too.  More of the history of the church from its medieval roots can be found here.

There are more artifacts, and a gift shop, down in the crypt
of Christchurch cathedral.  The crypt is
the most intact part of the original church.

Right down the street is the famous St. Patrick's Cathedral, a stunning place with an even more stunning courtyard.  

These photos were from my first visit to the cathedral in 2013.  This second time around, I unfortunately was starting to run out of time; thus, I settled on briefly admiring the courtyard once again.


I carried on, right back up O'Connell St, and past Christchurch once again to head down Castle St.  The area, the South side of the city centre, exudes such a Dublin-ness. 

I could imagine clearly the decades past, with the masses in late-19th-century clothing walking about, horses and carriages in the streets.  I was just as awestruck with this decades-past beauty today as much as I was three years ago.

Dublin City Hall, 2013

I had wanted to save time to visit City Hall.  This place was taken and occupied by the Irish Citizen Army during the 1916 Easter Rising.  Though it is uncertain, my family may have been involved in the rising, too. 

Eamon de Valera, who would become a politician, prime minister, and president of Ireland (respectively), led the Boland's Mills Garrison during the Rising.  My great-grandfather's brother, Dan, was a lieutenant with de Valera's garrison.  My great-grandfather was a messenger of sorts for Dan, and their other brother, Mike.  My great-grandfather apparently left Ireland because of a price on his head.  I've heard the stories told time and again by my grandmother.  My family history mixed with the rest to flood my mind as I fixed my gaze upward.  

There was such a glorious tension in my mind: it was dignity, it was history, it was family, it was the power of the masses, it was the concept of freedom.  I was the vessel of this powerful place.

The statue of Daniel O'Connell, also nicknamed "The Liberator."
He was the one of the first great Irish nationalist leaders.

An LED display of The 1916 Proclamation

Yes; seeing the sights alone grants utter bliss.  For anyone who travels, the immersion into the wonderful difference expands the mind to new horizons of understanding.  Those horizons of understanding are much grander, though.  To explore them fully, it behooves the traveler to interact deeply with the locals.  This is something I have not done even occasionally.  Alas, my ship stays in one place for one to two days--three maximum.  If I could stay...well then, utter bliss paves the way toward utter understanding.  Perhaps not of all things, mind you; but enough to know the whos, the whats, the whens, the wheres, the whys, and the hows of a place.  I would learn so much more than that which sights alone can offer.  Meeting my family in Dublin was a tremendous thing for me personally.  The city became them, they became the city....  I knew I had been immersed not only in the city and the family, but in the horizons of my understanding.  

The Samuel Beckett Bridge is practically a symbol of Dublin today.

I had glanced at Irish lives in an Irish city.  Through that lens I saw Dublin all over again.  


And so...was I truly done with travel?  


There was a shift in my mind.  Subtilely it moved, yet it was also growing, and fast.  I have seen the sights of many places, but now I craved the knowledge.  That night, after work, I set to doing what I always did--researching cameras.  The task was linking itself to a rekindling of purpose in life.   

A few days later the ship would dock in Holyhead, Wales.  
My next post will focus on that day.  
I hiked into the hills after having a conversation in a local pub 
with a retired singer and drag queen.  
Yes, you read that right.  A retired singer and drag queen.

Disclaimer: 

I do not intend to speak on behalf of Azamara Club Cruises.  As an employee of Azamara Club Cruises, I hereby state that all views and expressions of opinion I hold are solely my own, and do not reflect or represent the views, values, beliefs, opinions, or company policies of ether Azamara Club Cruises or Royal Caribbean Cruises Ltd.
Additionally I do not own or claim any legal rights to the links provided in this post.