I rounded out my weekend by visiting the city of Galway, one of Ireland's largest cities (population: 75,000). The city itself has a large youth population due to a few universities, and the historic center dates from Medieval times. Today, the town center is a quaint winding few roads that combine tourism with day-to-day chores for locals, not unlike Kilkenny.
On Friday, I had given a ride to a few undergrads who when up to Sligo in northern Ireland to participate in a very Ragnarian relay, and we'd arranged to meet back up to carpool back to Limerick Sunday night. In the meantime, I had an hour or so to burn, and I remembered that I still had my fish and chips goal to fulfill. So on the prowl I went.
Just a block or two from the river waterfront was a very popular restaurant with a line out the door. Although a long line is more an indicator of popularity than actual quality of food, my guidebook recommended the place, so I decided to check it out. I was surprised at the selection under the "fish" section. I already thought that smoked salmon mind be a stretch, but manta ray? Maybe some day, but today I was going to go for traditional: cod.
After I paid for the grub, I walked outside to the middle of the popular street and--being a product of the 21st century--wanted to take an artsy picture of my food. I held up the boat fish and chips in the air and took some shots. I was trying to get the focus on the meal with the medieval street fair semi-blurred in the background, and had to iteratively keep adjusting the settings and focus. After six or seven shots, I happened to look around me and found that--as I was standing on display in the middle of a crowded area--several tables of people were watching me with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. I sheepishly waved and tried not to walk away too quickly to maintain my remaining dignity.
***Side note: not nearly as embarrassing as when I got caught practicing my "excited face" for a photo in the window of a car that I thought was empty. It wasn't.
I chose my picnic area to be the waterfront, near the arch (constructed 1584) where the Spaniards would dock to unload shipments (usually wine).
As I sat down, I noticed a friendly little swan pass by. Well this certainly set the mood! "Are you gonna eat all of that, mister?" He seemed to ask? (Swans are very expressive and it's very easy to discern their moods.) "Well, I guess I can spare a fry..."
I tossed a fry nubbin to him, which hehandily beakily caught. But I hadn't anticipated what signal a mid-air fry is to the rest of the bird community. Suddenly, it was like The Birds 2: Will Kill for Fries. I would've taken some photos of the action, but I was busy protecting my eyeballs. Honestly, I imagined the scene to resemble The Little Mermaid, when (SPOILER ALERT) the animals crash the sham wedding.
I'd learned my lesson. Not "don't give food to animals," but "give food to animals discretely."
After the commotion died down and the opportunistic birds sought spoils elsewhere, a few remained to play a war of attrition. However, the white birds were into gaining more turf and squawked at each other until they were more interested in inter-avian fighting than waiting for food.
A brown bird, though, kept her distance until the white birds had distracted each other away. Then she would take a step forward, and kinda bat her eyelashes. She knew to "catch flies with honey, not with vinegar." As she got closer, I noticed that she would kinda change positions in an "Ain't I cute?" sort of way, but also a "Look at my sharp beak and talons. Think of how easily they could pierce soft tissue!" It was unsettling but effective.
When we'd gained each other's trust, I held out a fry between my fingers, and she ate from from my hand! (I can't imagine my response if she'd walked on my bag. Maybe like Buster's!) We bonded/enabled for a few more minutes, but then it was time for me to meet up with my carpool friends. For the heck of it, I decided to briefly examine their pecking order (literally!) by throwing a fry amongst a few birds. It was mildly amusing.
Before I left, I heard the mixed sounds laughter and shrieks. Apparently, two young women had started throwing bread crumbs to the birds, but the birds' appetite was greater than the speed at which the women could feed. It looked quite a bit like I imagine a out-of-whack flame thrower would, with the flame moving ever closer to the fuel source. I was glad that I was far away from that fiasco.
I did have quite a bit of food left over, but I dismissed the fleeting thought of throwing it into the air near some other tourists, thus inflicting a feeding frenzy on them. No, that'd be too mean. But if it were April 1st...
On Friday, I had given a ride to a few undergrads who when up to Sligo in northern Ireland to participate in a very Ragnarian relay, and we'd arranged to meet back up to carpool back to Limerick Sunday night. In the meantime, I had an hour or so to burn, and I remembered that I still had my fish and chips goal to fulfill. So on the prowl I went.
Just a block or two from the river waterfront was a very popular restaurant with a line out the door. Although a long line is more an indicator of popularity than actual quality of food, my guidebook recommended the place, so I decided to check it out. I was surprised at the selection under the "fish" section. I already thought that smoked salmon mind be a stretch, but manta ray? Maybe some day, but today I was going to go for traditional: cod.
After I paid for the grub, I walked outside to the middle of the popular street and--being a product of the 21st century--wanted to take an artsy picture of my food. I held up the boat fish and chips in the air and took some shots. I was trying to get the focus on the meal with the medieval street fair semi-blurred in the background, and had to iteratively keep adjusting the settings and focus. After six or seven shots, I happened to look around me and found that--as I was standing on display in the middle of a crowded area--several tables of people were watching me with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. I sheepishly waved and tried not to walk away too quickly to maintain my remaining dignity.
 |
| meh. |
I chose my picnic area to be the waterfront, near the arch (constructed 1584) where the Spaniards would dock to unload shipments (usually wine).
As I sat down, I noticed a friendly little swan pass by. Well this certainly set the mood! "Are you gonna eat all of that, mister?" He seemed to ask? (Swans are very expressive and it's very easy to discern their moods.) "Well, I guess I can spare a fry..."
I tossed a fry nubbin to him, which he
I'd learned my lesson. Not "don't give food to animals," but "give food to animals discretely."
After the commotion died down and the opportunistic birds sought spoils elsewhere, a few remained to play a war of attrition. However, the white birds were into gaining more turf and squawked at each other until they were more interested in inter-avian fighting than waiting for food.
When we'd gained each other's trust, I held out a fry between my fingers, and she ate from from my hand! (I can't imagine my response if she'd walked on my bag. Maybe like Buster's!) We bonded/enabled for a few more minutes, but then it was time for me to meet up with my carpool friends. For the heck of it, I decided to briefly examine their pecking order (literally!) by throwing a fry amongst a few birds. It was mildly amusing.
Before I left, I heard the mixed sounds laughter and shrieks. Apparently, two young women had started throwing bread crumbs to the birds, but the birds' appetite was greater than the speed at which the women could feed. It looked quite a bit like I imagine a out-of-whack flame thrower would, with the flame moving ever closer to the fuel source. I was glad that I was far away from that fiasco.
I did have quite a bit of food left over, but I dismissed the fleeting thought of throwing it into the air near some other tourists, thus inflicting a feeding frenzy on them. No, that'd be too mean. But if it were April 1st...
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