Better than the real thing

Sometimes the lead up to an event is better than the actual occasion, the excitement, preparation, the day dreams, the factor of the unknown.

But this year I am not going to let this happen – I want my holiday to be so much better than anything I could imagine, so I have stopped – stopped googling, reading reviews, staring at beautiful digitally enhanced photos, slumping over the itinerary for hours ...

A hectic work life situation has played a huge part in this, but just as I started to panic last week that I have not done enough for my impending trip, I stopped and thought “No.”

This year it will be different, this year I will go on a relaxing holiday, I will go with the flow, chill, unwind and untimely enjoy myself.

Of course I am keeping an eye on the world news for my holiday destinations, especially Israel which is hotting up just in time for my arrival. But that is it.

I do not know what one Israeli Shekel can get me, I have no idea what the Dead Sea looks like, the hotels in Istanbul could have blown up by now and haven't a notion what kind of people will be on the cruise ship.

Israel currency

This year I want to be surprised, I don't want to compare photos of the Athens Acropolis to pictures online and I will be open to all suggestions for things to see and do.

Usually I know my destination inside out, I have a definitive list of things that I must see and do, I know exactly how much the taxi will cost from the airport to the hotel, and in all the planning I usually forget to relax (unless I have a specific time allowed for such!).

Obviously I have an idea of some of the things to see and do, we even have some tours booked for Israel, but for the majority of the days there is no schedule, no plan of action, no timescale ...

(As I write this I am starting to imagine mayhem ...)

Day dreams of sunbathing on a cruise liner are helping me get through the dreary busy work hours, but these are general images, nothing specific because when I get there I want to be wowed.

The week before is exciting, but it will not be the best part of my epic holiday.

Have you been let down after an unbelievable lead up?

Knowing me and knowing Ski

When you travel you learn about places, people and things from all over the world, but you also learn about yourself. Months on the road, by yourself, with people in good places and bad you come to terms with who you really are.

You learn things about yourself that you never knew. Some good, some bad.

I have always known that I am organised, efficient, and at my worst: scheduled, but what I didn't know was my issue with control – more exactly my fear of not being in control.

Learning to let go on The Remarkables, New Zealand (c)fifiheavey

Of course on the road, you plan things and more often than not they do not go according to plan and despite some dismay at this (maybe a few hissy fits) I grew accustomed to things steering off course. I quickly adapted, and put a plan B, C or even Z into place. But even when things don't go as planned, you can stay in control, you can re-direct the troops and carry on, re-focused.

Concentrating (c) fifiheavey

“Let go”

“Relax”

“Stop Thinking”

“Go with the flow”

On top of a snow covered mountain in New Zealand, hurtling towards the bottom at what must be record speeds with no plan, no idea, no alternative to my disposal, my nightmare was realised.

My ski instructor told me I had “control issues.”

You see skiing is fun, or at least it is supposed to be, you the skis, a snowcapped mountain and the fresh air. In this game however you have to submit your control, you have to go with the mountain, the skis, ignore your instinct thoughts ... relax ... glide ... smile ... stop.

I wanted to have fun, I wanted to have so much fun with everyone else and enjoy skiing. I wanted to excel through my beginners group to intermediate with my boyfriend, I wanted to show that I was better than some seven year old brat - so I concentrated really hard to get all the moves, to learn how to sweep from side to side and stop before I feel off the edge.

Ski lifts on The Remarkables (c) fifiheavey

The ski instructor told me I was trying too much, I needed to let go.

This concept was alien to me.

In the videos I look rigid, stiff, my turns are forced, my feet locked into a “wedge” shape. I wore the bruises from the ski lifts for weeks, the trauma of having to hurtle my body forward seconds before I fell to my death across a cliff took longer to disappear. But the effects of not being able to “let go” have never left me.

Over and over, I recall children diving to get out of my way, ski couples huddling in fear, and teenagers gasping in shock as I fly my way down an intermediate slope and throw myself to the ground, as my boyfriend laughs himself into a hoop.

Snowboarding as the morning sun breaks out.
(c) fifiheavey

Sometimes having fun can be hard work – I knew I should have picked snow boarding!

"Bully Day" - The Irish Weather

Rain, hail, sleet, wind, snow, frost, sunshine, heatwave, humidity – all get the same treatment by my father, he calls it a “bully day.”

His tone changes from happiness on a nice day to slightly angry on a bad one, but the words stay the same, the weather is described as “bully.” Take it or leave it – read into it what you will that is the way it is.

Sunlight behind rain clouds over Garadice Lake, Co Leitrim

The Irish weather is a worldwide phenomena. Not because it is particularly bad, or extremely changeable, or frustratingly unpredictable or down right mean (because it is all this) but because it is so much more.

The weather is a conversation starter with strangers, a meaningful exchange with friends, an everyday (if not every hour) occurrence and it is always acceptable to talk about it – anywhere, any time. Us Irish are emotionally attached to the weather, we are fascinated by it. And it is something that transcends gender, age and class.

“Did you hear the forecast?” is a question heard about one hundred times a day, people walk into a room and announce “it's windy out there,” “God that is awful rain,” or once every five years “it is beautiful out there!”

Those who visit the country are always amused by how much we talk about the weather, the girl at the supermarket check out will comment as she scans your items, the bus man will usually make a declaration on your entry or exit and the bar person is well conversed in all things weather related.

And yet despite the fact the weather forecast is consulted two – three times a day, and we have discussed at length today, tomorrow and the weekend's weather we always look unprepared.

Tourists clad in rain jackets to their ankles, wearing woolly jumpers and heavy boots stare in disbelief as Irish people run through puddles and torrential rain in a teeshirt, jeans and flip flops to get to the shop in the middle of November!

Again this year the Irish people endured a pathetic Summer, and if we are to believe the forecasters (by the way we usually don't – hence the need for such discussion) then we are in for another crazy winter.

Another addition to the Irish weather phenomena is that we are never organised for 'extreme' weather. Over two weeks of sunshine will result in concerns over water shortages, two weeks of non stop rain will flood the country and the whole island comes to a stand still with frost and snow! Imagine what would happen if we got some real 'extreme' weather?!

Fresh snow in Tullyveela, Corlough, Co Cavan

Putting aside my severe Vitamin D deficiency, my loathing for days of rain and the amount of cursing I do over frost, I actually quite like the Irish Weather.

Actually maybe 'like' is a bit strong!

I am pale with freckles – so a lot of sun is not my friend, I love the wind and I also love the snow (aside from driving in it). A long Summer evening is perfect in Ireland.

We sometimes forget that the large amount of rain in Ireland contributes to the vivid green colour of our country side, and the sweetness of the grass leads to world renowned meat produce.

Rainbows dominate our skies, starry nights are dream like and morning mists are haunting.

Our handsome dog Wally enjoying a colourful Autumn in Ballinamore, Co Leitrim

If it were not for our attitude weather – what would we have to complain about?!

Jellyfish salad - my revenge

It came into conversation a few weeks back, I hate Jellyfish, they have ruined my life and I need to extract revenge on them – they must die.

My sentiments are not unwarranted, I have good reason to feel this way about those 'things', I have actually been suppressing my feelings for years now.

Revenge is a harmful action against a person or group (or jellyfish) in response to a grievance, be it real or perceived.

The story:

At the very innocent age of seven, when all things were magical and beautiful and what my parents said was gospel, I went on a family holiday to Bundoran, Co Donegal.

It was all going swimmingly until I went swimming at Rossnowlagh Beach. It was a glorious day, in the days when the Sun visited Ireland during the Summer, I had a spade and a shovel and life was grand.

Into the water I splashed. “Look at me” I cheered to my adoring parents.

Step, jump, up and down I bobbed on the small waves.

Then “squish” down went my tiny little foot onto an evil, dangerous and spiteful jellyfish. I didn't mean to touch it, I just wanted to play, I didn't even see it. But the jellyfish didn't care.

The sting ran up my foot, the pain was something I had never experienced before.

The stinging cells are triggered by an object touching a microscopic hair. This hair triggers the cell to squeeze violently, ejecting a hollow thread that penetrates the victim's skin and injects poison.

My father came rushing over, tears streamed down my face. I felt sick, I got sick and still the pain echoed through me.

“Why me” I would have pondered if I wasn't too busy screaming in pain.

It eased after a few hours, but the scar stayed with me forever. That evening I discovered a hearty appetite (yep I blame the jellyfish) because before then food was a disruption to my busy playful life.

And as a result of this fine appetite I have grown accustomed to, comes my idea for sweet revenge. 

Because “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

How to cook jellyfish:

For cooking jellyfish you have to first soak the jellyfish overnight in the refrigerator. The best way to cut the jellyfish is to roll up the flesh and slice it, so that you get thin julienne strips. These strips are then to be blanched. The blanching can be repeated one more time (it is sooo evil), after which you drain off all the water.

Now you can marinate these pieces with the seasoning of your choice, like vinegar, salt, spices and so on, and then add them to salads, or vegetables or other sea-food dishes. After mixing the seasoning the marinating process should be done in the refrigerator. Usually the juices which collect after marinating, are to be discarded as they might have harmful bacteria.
Recipes include: Jellyfish sushi, burgers, stew, salad, satay and stir fry.

Satay Jellyfish - www.rasamalazia.com

Meet more like minded people on: Revenge on those dumbass Jellyfish that sting for no reason Facebook page!

Photo Vs Video

I have a conundrum. My big trip (it involves a boat ...) is over a month away and although I have a zillion things to think about for it, one item appears to be fogging my brain: should I take photos or a video of my amazing holiday.

Photography or videography?

This is a new issue, brand new in fact from the weekend, I am a photo person, I love photos, I make photo books, I print out photos and frame them, I regularly look back on photos – they make me happy!

But at the weekend I watched a friend's DVD of her trip to the West coast of America some years ago. It was fascinating, we watched on as she and her boyfriend escorted us around Las Vegas, gambled, took shots at Osama Bin Laden (his photo) and we jumped when a lightening bolt appeared on screen as they flew over the Grand Canyon! We awwed as they drove their swanky convertible up the coast, as they examined the interior of Alcatraz at San Fransisco and we laughed about how young the looked.

Despite my array of photos from a similar trip in 2008, they seemed quite inadequate, we certainly didn't show off Vegas like they did, The Grand Canyon looked pathetic, we had just glimpses of the vacation – while they had the full story.

Does video capture more?

Does video kick photo's ass?

In this instance it certainly did. But yet I struggle.

I look back on my photos from that trip regularly (they are in a photo book ...) would I do so with a video? – certainly not.

Photos can be more artistic, more flexible in terms of use but they do not show the full impact. Video can capture sound, more expressions, vastness, depth and you are probably more likely to capture the perfect picture, moment from a constant video than a lucky photo shot.

A Tasmania Devil aggressively feeding on a tail - this would have been more entertaining as a video.
(c) fifiheavey

Yet you will not stop the DVD player to tell a story, you will with a photo, it deserves more dialog – an explanation, some context – what happened next.

Maybe it is time to move with technology – take my photos from the footage filmed – become a youtube sensation ...

Even when taking photos I usually take a few minutess out in places of true inspiration to stare without a camera lens, to trace the image or the scene into my memory, to savor the feeling. Would I be too busy filming to do this, would it take away from the moment?

Could a video have captured this silent, serene scene any better - I think not. Lake St Clair, Tasmania (c) fifiheavey

Still artistic image or fast paced footage? That is the question.

What is the answer?

Maybe a little bit of both?

How do I breathe???

How do I breathe? - This was my one and only concern when I decided (I didn't decide actually I was cajoled, pushed and bullied) to go for a tandem sky dive.

Before I jumped with my sky dive instructor
(c) fifiheavey

We were in New Zealand, I already had the bruises from Skiing, money was short and we needed to make some decisions: bungee jump, black water rafting or sky diving.

Bungee jumping was immediately ruled out – it only lasts a few seconds, you have to jump yourself (in sky diving the instructor does that for you) and you dangle upside down and may hit the water – no flipping way!

Black water rafting – this seemed like fun, it was unusual and involved abseiling, climbing, cave tubbing and a lot of, eh black water. But by this stag of our trip we had snorkeled, scuba dived and surfed so we had ticked the water sports box enough.

Sky diving it was then. New Zealand is the best place for your first sky dive (yes that is a biased opinion) and Lake Taupo is breathtaking (with or without a parachute).

So we booked our appointment with Skydive Taupo, I informed family and friends of my impending death and we anxiously waited for the big white stretch limo to collect us.

The stretch limo
(c) fifiheavey

I didn't sleep the night before, I was excited (really I was shitting it) the next morning I didn't eat, the limo arrived and inside we met some Irish lads (of course) also paying for the service to jump out of a perfectly good plane.

Sky high
(c) fifiheavey

They chatted with my boyfriend about what music they would choose for their DVD of the experience. I didn't partake in this trivial chat because all I was worried about was “How exactly do I breathe?”

I understood that thousands sky dive probably each week (I made up that stat!) and very rarely does anything go wrong, but I just couldn't comprehend how I was supposed to breathe in the face of free falling at over 50mph for one minute.

Sixty seconds of 50mph wind in my face – where, how when was I supposed to breathe?

It seemed so unnatural, so wrong.

These questions all seem irrational, even annoying now, post sky dive but before hand, no amount of talking or explaining would calm me. My instructor did a great job of distracting me and he reassured me I would be able to breathe, he promised his life on it – if I arrived alive I would keep him to that!

So up we went in the pink plane, and actually inside I regained my nerve – on the other side of the small aircraft however I saw my boyfriend's face and realised panic had just crept in.

The pink Skydive Taupo plane

Despite my pleading to be the first out, I had to watch the other two fall from the plane before I got my turn.

The experience was out of this world, the free fall exhilarating, the pull of the parachute released, the feeling of flying, the view of the two New Zealand islands, the lake, the birds and clouds.

Even the landing was so much fun.

Sky diving is a high like no other, those who are thinking about take recreational drugs should be first introduced to this, a high adrenalin activity that cannot be beaten.

Preparing to land ...
(c) fifiheavey

How did I breathe? Well actually quite easily and once out there it was the least of my concerns, I just wanted it to last longer, to see more, to feel more.

Sky diving is a whole lot better than drugs – but be warned it can also be highly addictive!

A different view and something new

The West Coast of Ireland never looked so beautiful as it did on BBC2 last week.

Mony Halls 'Great Irish Escape' to Connemara has done more for that area in Galway than thousands of euro of advertising and marketing by Tourism Ireland.

The programme listing had slightly caught my interest on paper, and so I tuned in, an eye on the TV another on the laptop. But I soon closed the computer.

Connemara Coastline

If I had watched the programme with the sound off I would have been 100% sure that the location was somewhere tropical, remote and a million miles away.

Instead I looked on, eyes glazed and listened with disbelief that this beautiful turquoise blue ocean crashing against an ancient rocky coastline, shadowed by the most luscious green landscape was in fact just 2 hours away from my cosy sitting room.

There had to have been some photo shopping going on and I have no idea when Mr Hall got this stunning weather for filming but according to him he was in Connemara, forgotten Connemara – the location of school child family holidays, a remote corner of Galway – the same location for Brendan Gleeson's dark and hilarious film 'The Guard.'

The great Irish Escape is no tacky show, there is big money invested in this project and it shows – sitting on my couch previously contemplating a holiday in Greece (hence the eye on the laptop), I really did take a u turn and ask out loud – why not Connemara?

Monty Hall and Rueben

Monty and his dog Rueben are helping the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group to examine how many whales, dolphins, porpoises, basking sharks and even blue sharks visit the Connemara coastline. (If these water mammals seen this series it would surely attract more of them!)

Mussel cooking competition, scuba diving with congers, dolphin watching, otter spotting ...

I have no doubt that Connemara has been inundated with accommodation requests from the UK following this show and the area will enjoy much more positive searches with another six episodes to be indulged in on BBC2.

So this is obviously the way to go, forget the huge marketing campaigns on the back of buses, the posters, the radio and TV ads – lets promote it “by accident.” Get some movies filming here – look what Lord of the rings did for New Zealand.

My advise to those marketing the country is don't just tell them about Ireland – show them. Or better still let broadcasters show themselves, they may just see something that we are overlooking – lets maybe take a step back from the world known landmarks in Ireland and promote the lesser spotted ones, find something quirky, a different view – something new.

Sharks off Connemara?
(c) fifiheavey

Sharks in Ireland – who ever knew? 

I didn't, but I do want to know more.

Monty Hall's 'Great Irish Escape' BBC2 8pm every Thursday until September 22.