Weekend 5 - Jazz is the friends you make along the way
This weekend was a bank holiday in Ireland, which meant we had Monday off from class and kitchen time. I asked people what holiday we were celebrating and I was met with confusion. Apparently Ireland has a bunch of bank holidays throughout the year with no purpose other than to give people long weekends! Not even celebrating a dead president or anything! Take this idea to congress I beg of you.
It was also the Jazz Festival in Cork this weekend, which brought up the age old question: what is jazz even? In Cork it seems to be an excuse for hundred thousand people to dress up nice and day-drink. No complaints here!
No one had their acts together enough to buy tickets to any of the more official concerts or venues but we were assured that every pub and bar in the city would have some kind of live music offering. Around midday I took the train from Midelton with classmates into Cork. We got great coffees at Priority Coffee then walked around to take in the sights.
By then it had been at least more than one hour since the last time I ate so naturally I was starving. We got amazing japanese at Miyazaki (sorry no pictures of the two types of gyozas I got) and hung out at O’Sho across the street where a bunch more classmates met up with us. There was a traditional Irish band playing there and more importantly a golden retriever wearing a pink sweater. Jazz!
We then walked to the Imperial Hotel where the same demon that possesses me at weddings took over my body and soul. Which is to say there was an extremely entertaining wedding band playing all of the classic hits and I fear I showed a side of myself on the dance floor that my classmates will never unsee. Including but not limited to getting on the ground to do a split during Angels by Robbie Williams and punching a beer out of my classmate’s hands while doing full out choreography to “You’re the One that I Want” from Grease. Jazz?
From there we wandered in and out of a few pubs while we waited for our jeans to dry considering we all sweated through them with the intensity of our dancing. The last bar of the night was at Crane Lane where a DJ played a mediocre set but we had fun regardless. Last but truly not least we made the hallowed and storied trek of all jazz pilgrims - late night McDonald’s. After a few weeks of exclusively organic, free range, non-processed food it hit so hard (positive). Also did you know Ireland McDonald’s still has chicken selects and snack wraps??? Now THAT’S Jazz!!!!
Sunday I could have won a competition called ‘take the least steps of anyone on planet earth.’ I wasn’t even hungover, just tired and lazy. I didn’t even speak a word out loud until past 5pm when I met up with Nicola and Mirjia to get pizza at a small local spot called Big Blue. Turned out I lost my voice! Who knew. Pizza was exactly what the doctor ordered, followed by watching Notting Hill. Have y’all watched that movie lately? It’s vaguely unhinged. Julia Robert’s character is like objectively a bad person but we are supposed to feel bad for her because she is famous? Revisit it and let me know if this is an unkind reading of a classic 90’s film.
Monday morning I woke up what I thought was bright and early because I hadn’t realized Ireland daylight savings had happened Saturday night. Oops! Benjamin Franklin invented American Daylight Savings to be in November how was I supposed to know! Long-ish run on a new route was hilly but survivable. Then hopped in a car of classmates going to Ardmore, a cute seaside village about 30 minutes from Ballymaloe. First we stopped at Bernie’s in Midleton for coffees and sandwiches where I was asked if I wanted a side of ranch. My American heart soared! Ranch!! Ranch is so jazz when you haven’t had it in six weeks.
In Ardmore we did a gorgeous cliff walk, popped into some great pottery stores, and got a pint at a cafe that turned out to be run by a former Ballymaloe student. They are around every corner you turn in the country, I swear. You’ll notice I got a Murphy’s even though I’ve canonically established myself as a Beamish girl. Well guess what they didn’t have Beamish but I lived to tell the tale.
On the way home, Sunday scaries (or as they call it here in Ireland, ‘The Fear’) hit big time as we have our midterm exams on Friday and I need to do some serious studying. But why study when you can write a blog for approximately six people? That’s jazz, baby.