Irish You Were Here

I went to Ireland last week to visit my BFFFF who is spending a year abroad in Cork. As I recently remarked to a friend, the following scientific equation can dictate/summarize the happiness of typical Irishmen (or women, since Molly is a feminist) who I met:
God+Booze+Scoring Randoms+Copious Amounts of Delicious Food=Happy Irish Folks.

“Scoring” or “shifting” a random, is Frenching a random person in a club. Frenching in pubs is awkward since they’re too intimate and one needs to be “off his/her face” to divert said awkwardness. If you’re “schtaving,” then you’re hellof drunk in Cork, if you and your friends are drunk but with someone else who is sober, then chances are you all look like a “pack o’ retards” to the sober friend.
My personal equation was: Banoffi (like God, but edible)+Beamish+Bouncers+Molly=Happy Irish Kari.

Approximately 1 hour after I arrived in Cork, Molly had already downed a bottle or so of wine at Rachel’s birthday party. This is my favorite picture of her ever.

I too enjoy myself some wine from time to time.

The UCC campus is straight out of Harry Potter. There is an old church with stained glass windows which is some sort of academic building.

Dead sharks at the farmers market.

Welcome to Kilarney!

We went on a walk through a national park.

Fairies totally live in that tree.

I see this and immediately think “golf course,” but that’s because I’m from San Diego where grass doesn’t exist.


King Ross of Kilarney lives here.

Mr. Blue Sky.

I’m looking at purchasing that island for my weekend retreat.

Trees are nice.

Old Irish people must have been fairly short because there was no way in hell either of us could have fit through the door that was around the corner.

I had just turned the canon into a phallic extension of my manhood via acrobatic poses, and Molly was not impressed.

Grass is nice.

More trees. They’re still nice.

Ireland is extremely colorful. Molly thinks it’s to break up the “monotony of so much green” (is there such a thing?!?!), but it’s totally welcoming in any case.

Molly and Liz and Halley are extremely colorful.

“I have a dick on my face, don’t I?”

Guinness on tap in Kilarney is mighty excellent.

I’m glowing.

I found that drink on the right and decided it would be okay to take since I hadn’t seen anyone date-rape-prep it.

Molly’s roommate Hayley. Totally my favorite Irish person.

Can you guess which one I hit on? Word.

Not a pack o’ retards.

This mostly embodies our friendship for some reason.

“Thank you, Kilarney!” Art by Kari. Ketchup and curry fries by Den and Joe’s.

A different national park on day 2.

There was some straw and a boathouse.

Liz wondered about climbing this roof, but a sedate Molly thought better of avoiding ex-pat accidental death.

This church has a tree in it.

This is Rachel’s backyard full of sheep.

We found some cool murals back in Cork.

OMGZ that is Banoffi pie in the foreground. It’s bananas, toffee, whipped cream, chocolate and a salty-sweet crumble crust. The layers are arranged at the whim of the cafe, but I have to say I prefer this toffee-on-top version. Besides Molly and various cultural experiences, Banoffi was my favorite thing about Ireland.

Whoa shit we found Dementors at UCC. Harry Potter. Kari Potter.

This is Beamish. It’s a nitrogenated double stout that is hellof creamy and delicious. I like it almost as much as Banoffi, and it’s brewed in Cork so you can feel good about buying locally.

This is why I could never live in Ireland for more than a week at a time. Curry fries on the left, deep-fried garlic mushrooms with garlic-ranch sauce on the right.



Inspain, like Insane.

Bri and I went to San Sebastian this weekend to celebrate our having been in France for a month. I have never seen such a beautiful city in my whole life, and everything was so alive that I refused to take pictures at certain points for fear that digital imagery could not capture what it was like to be there.
Anyway, everything you hear about the Spanish is true. I got 10 hours of sleep for the 48 hours I was there, and according to my official log of Saturday’s consumerism, half a bottle of whiskey, 4 glasses of wine and 2 beers were consumed on my behalf. San Sebastian is a Pays-Basque city, so besides being somewhat volatile, this means that the food is delicious and Calimotxos (wine and coca-cola) are ubiquitous. It’s definitely a city of indulgence of all kinds.
Disclaimer: Bri and I decided to go to Spain after both reading The Sun Also Rises in Bordeaux. Hemingway was right about everything, but Pernod is too expensive these days.

Train rides are too pretty for Ativan.

Playa de la Concha. This was the first thing I saw as we walked into the neigborhood where our pens

Pretty pictures of pretty much nothing. Onward!

Bordeaux is hellof Medieval, but my intensive Art History training tells me this is more like Italian Baroque.

I’ve been really into windows lately. Anya, say something poignant about that.


This is Rue de Goya. It’s across from Rue de Henri Matisse which is in turn parallel to the Delaunay bus stop. How artistic is France?!

Bordeaux’s farmers market is tight. Dried kiwis are delicious.

I can’t find water anywhere in this country, but I know where to buy local wine by the liter at a wine bar.

Eating cheese has been cool.

Eating rabbit has been non-existent.

This is what was left of my Canel


The other day I started hating everyone and everything possible, so I decided to make a flipbook of myself smoking a cigarette and then slitting my throat. Emily said, “God you’re so French now.” How very.
I’m feeling almost totally recovered from my bout of ennui (Morgan’s patron saint), and have been having a great time with photography class and French people (mostly with their food and drinks, but also with them). From snow to bikes: onward!

It has been fuckin froid here. This is Bri on our way to photography class at 8h30 in the damn morning.