Disability Lit Review, part one

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Let me offer a bit of an author’s note on this one, or perhaps a caveat, that I only got five hours of sleep last night, and my body hurts today. This is the third night this week I got six hours or less of sleep, due to some fairly intense routine change that is kicking my ass. And the pain I am experiencing today is not my standard everyday pain, but similar pain in a more twitchy and unnerving form.

And this may lead to some of my more strident tones. Or perhaps I always feel my opinions with a certain sharpness, but ordinarily I present them after the application of a filter.

I will try to keep my aggressive aggravation to myself, but no promises.

Earlier this month, I drafted a “bird piece” for the Behind Our Eyes anthology, a collection in the works to highlight the members of the Behind Our Eyes email-based writers group for writers with disabilities. I joined the group a couple years ago after participating on the fringes through Nancy Scott, who, in cheap amusement and most things disability, is my partner in crime. I normally lurk in the group, but recently heard they were actively looking for bird stories. The anthology features a variety of sections and one themed block focuses on animals.

I wrote a creative non-ficiton piece about my Goffin’s cockatoo and I navigating disability together, with a present-day, present tense story of Nala plucking her feathers due to her anxiety and me trying to figure out why. The plucking led to her not being able to fly, which gave her a temporary mobility disability. So I used this present-day situation to frame flashbacks exploring why Nala was anxious, but also looking at my mobility disability and the similarities and conditions that made us good for one another. The anthology committee wanted just a bird story, so they’ll be publishing the present-day section of my interactions with Nala.

This was the first of two pieces I wished to submit to disability-associated anthologies. I have drafted the second, but that one is specifically for disabled voices to share what we wished the outside world understood. I revisited my first draft, and tightened it somewhat, and thought the piece sounded like an introductory chapter to my upcoming medical advocacy memoir. That piece has two themes– the beginning talks about how my family had too many problems for me to realize I was “disabled” which seques into the second half, about me finding out my body and assembling an adequate medical team.

Nan has been encouraging me to write more in the disability space, her paraphrased quote being that I could have a real impact there. And in my experience, there are two main types of voices in the world of disability literature. The most mainstream voice is the voice of the writer-first– commonly a writer who experienced illness or disability not from birth, with either some sort of privilege or talent. The second is the disability activist who is not a writer, but congenitally-disabled and fighting for their right and the resources to exist. (And I guess the third would be the hobby disabled memoirist.)

I find myself crossing all these categories. I have the natural writing talent, my background as a professional journalist, my credentials as an academic and historian, and the experience of a congenital disability. Yet, I have the privilege of being a white woman, and if I can borrow the term, I can “pass” as an able-bodied person if I focus really hard and am having a good day. I have the type of cerebral palsy that you might not notice or that might make you stare at my feet and knees.

This morning on social media, I saw a post from a disabled Iraqi/Afghan War veteran stating that he needed to retire his service dog as she had had a seizure. The man said that his career involved much travel and public speaking as an influencer and motivational speaker. I searched the internet for him and found a very basic web site, some YouTube videos and an Instagram, but no information about him or the experiences that lead him to be a motivational speaker.

Now, in everyday life, people with disabilities do not owe information or an explanation to anyone regarding details about their private lives or medical conditions. But if you build a career on your experience coming back from a disability, I think some of that information is owed to prove the validity of that expertise. (And if you are an influencer, a Google search should turn up some information about you.)

What I am about to say next is going to make me sound like an ass, and I mention to not to invalidate the experience of people with disabilities who fit the categories as I am about to describe– but the lived experience of a Cis white heterosexual male in the United States of America who develops a disability after voluntary service with the military is very different from the experience of a person who has never been able to walk, has a limb difference, total blindness or any of the multitude of disabilities that occur at birth.

(Add in family resources, and there’s another layer of complexity.)

Some people have more choices. Some people have more privilege.

ALL people living with ANY TYPE of chronic illness or disability deserve the same respect, but one must understand that they all come from different places. As all humans do.

This has led me into a brief literature review of the disability space, one I have only explored via finding books written by ordinary people on their experience with disability. My list included the third anthology from Behind Our Eyes and a service dog memoir by one of its members, Peter Altschul. I have a collection of books with connections to cerebral palsy: several modern memoirs by Tylia Flores, a pre mid-20th century memoir by Dubliner Christy Brown, and Karen, a parent’s cerebral palsy memoir that takes place about 10 years after Christy Brown, and then poetry and academic work by Jennifer Bartlett. And a highly academic poetry book by blind poet Susan Glass.

A copy of A Disability History of the United States

I recognized my need to diversify… especially as I start more work on my medical advocacy memoir and consider making more deliberate strides into this space.

Here’s what I ordered:

  • A Disability History of the United States by Kim E. Nielsen. I believe this was Nielsen’s Ph.D. thesis in history. In her introduction, she mentions that she is a white woman of certain privilege, and she ended up in this space by accident, with no connection to disability. Then, shortly after receiving a publishing contract for this book, her teen daughter contracted an illness that made her a wheelchair user and gave her a more personal glimpse of the issues she had talked about.

I finished this book yesterday, and it’s definitely an important work, exploring hundreds of years of attitudes and events about disabled bodies. Nielsen aligns disability rights with other civil rights, for women, for Blacks, for gays. She presents the idea that any body that is not strong, healthy, heterosexual, white and male faces the same discrimination and lack of belonging in the American social structure. And ALL of these bodies are disabled and deemed as unsatisfactory as part of the capitalistic labor machine.

It’s an important work that shows how ideas about disability evolved and how legal status/rights have changed.

Today I started:

  • How to Tell When We Will Die: On Pain, Disability and Doom by Johanna Hedva. This is Johanna’s fourth book, and the bio on the back lists them as a Korean American writer, artist and musician raised in Los Angeles raised by a family of witches.
A pile of three disabilty-themed books. The top one, How to Tell When We Will Die: On Pain, Disability and Doom by Johanna Hedva, is pink with red stars. The next on the pile is a beige memoir, FIfty Years of Walking with Friends, by DeAnna Quietwater Noriega. The one on the bottom is vivid yellow, Loving Our Own Bones, by Julia Watts Belser.

Their introduction mirrors a lot of the same concepts about the issues disabled people create for American capitalism. Their experience though is one of disability after chronic illness. I have only reached page 28, and Johanna mentions a decade of chasing a diagnosis, but states that they inherited chronic illness from their mother and grandmother– which leads me to wonder why a diagnosis was such a mystery?

I suspect the reality is that Johanna had trouble finding a doctor to label the diagnosis officially, which is the “doctors are idiots” and the “American healthcare is broken” problem not that Johanna didn’t know what was wrong.

I hope Johanna eventually shares their disability with the reader, but as of yet it has not happened, and again– I know no one is entitled to know the private details of another person’s medical situation, but it is important when one is standing in a public space claiming authority regarding such issues.

The other two books on my new acquisitions are:

  • Fifty Years of Walking with Friends, another guide dog memoir by BOE member DeAnna Quietwater Noriega. I added this one to the list because of Noriega’s Native American heritage.
  • Loving Our Own Bones: Disability Wisdom and the Spiritual Subversiveness of Knowing Ourselves Whole by Julia Bessler Watts. Julia is a queer rabbi. This book was recommended and you had me at queer rabbi.

Seasonal summary and hoping for new beginnings

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My daughter is in the garage doing yoga right now– an old set of yoga DVDs I found on a discount pile somewhere 20 years ago. I used to used those DVDs once or twice a day, each routine a mere 20 minutes, and its impact huge on my body. I should be out there with her right now, but although it is 8:30 in the morning on a Sunday, I am already knee-deep in work. So maybe after my 9 a.m. meeting I will give it a go on my own.

I’ve had some successes in life lately, but health and fitness is not one of them. I’ve been struggling with my mobility since before my trip to Ireland in March. Some of that is due to lack of movement in my routine. Some is due to lack of chiropractic care and not enough stretching. Some is weight.

But now I’m experiencing more and more symptoms of anemia. What started as mistyping words– not misspelling but using completely different words: “basket” coming out of my fingers instead of “basic” and “winter” instead of “window”– has nos (and I just typed “not” instead of “now”) escalated to incidents of brain fog (driving past the bank instead of to the bank) and drinking too many caffeinated beverages without feeling their impact and literally not being able to keep my eyes open at 2 or 3 p.m. despite having healthy sleep hygiene and getting to bed on time. And all of these symptoms get worse with the heat and the sun. Which is also classic anemia.

I scheduled my annual blood work for tomorrow morning at 6:45 a.m. It’s not due until September so the insurance company will probably love that. I also left a message for my chiropractor, Nicole Jensen at Back in Line, because even though it puts a strain on my finances, I need the care.

My right leg is definitely leaning into its femoral anteversion, and the best way I can describe it is like I have a tree trunk instead of a leg that I’m dragging around. And then once it’s a little straighter and not locked into a weird position, any yoga I do will help keep things limber.

I started taking my vitamins last week: vitamin D/calcium with breakfast, iron with lunch, and vitamin C with dinner if I remember).

I’ve also cleaned up my diet and I think I can say that except for breakfast with Laurel at Panera on Tuesday, all food has been prepared at home. I have tried to make sure I get more fresh fruits and vegetables and include a protein with every meal. With this routine, I have lost five pounds this week. And I know that is all the sodium/water weight leaving my system. But if I with another 7 pounds off this summer, I could be at the weight I was last fall when I saw my primary care physician last fall.

Both Eva and I have struggled with motivation to eat so far this spring/summer season… We’ve both been busy, stressed and exhausted. Eva’s taking an online American Sign Language class through Purdue University and her midterm is tomorrow. It’s really cool to watch her learn. And to help her study.

We’ve both taken to finding items that are easier to eat. Often these are easy-to-grab meat products and snacks for her, and meal-prepped items like overnight oats for me. Last night we both needed something for dinner so I made tuna fish sandwiches which also helped us use some of the aging iceberg lettuce in the fridge. I’ve been adding kale to everything I can, especially pasta and eggs. My other coup was a make-your-own quesadilla bar– I had flour tortillas, corn tortillas and refried beans from the dollar store, all items I keep on hand (in addition to beans I cooked from dry and froze, in seven different varieties); we had lettuce, tomato, and onion left over from burger night; and on a whim, I had just purchased sour cream and a huge block of cheddar. We even had fresh limes to give everything a citrus kick.

Speaking of food, I’ve been tracking my food in the Omada app again. I still believe the Omada program is a waste. If you have issues with food and weight and health and don’t have a previous understanding of nutrition I can’t see it helping. It only helps me because it reminds me what I’ve eaten, how I’m trending and gives me some basic nutritional summaries. But the fact that my insurance company gets charged $30/month just because I stepped on a scale is nuts. My coach is really good, but for the most part she can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.

So much of health is making the hard and responsible choices.

And doing what you need to do.

It’s also the only app/system that gets worse over time. Their AI-driven logging system can’t identify basic foods, and when you try to edit the listings with information from the actual label, it just ignores you. Omada does not believe in tracking calories. It encourages instead you make better, educated decisions based on your hunger and how you feel. I understand that calorie-counting can lead to some psychological issues, but in the end, weight loss is math. They do track fiber, added sugar, protein and saturated fat. But not sodium. If you have a chronic weight or heart problem, you need to understand sodium.

And they encourage you to aim for 50% nutritous. I average 50% on any given day. Today I’m at 57% so far, but I’m due for lunch. That may change. Now, if you know me, you know– I try to make my meal choices as close to vegan and minimally processed as possible. I had gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Eva, and trying to eat 2800 calories in six meals a day with no sugar on a vegetarian diet got me very bored. Thank God I decided to incorporate tuna into my routine. I can still remember some of those routines. My ten-thirty a.m. snack was large curd cottage cheese and usually strawberries or raspberries and my 8 p.m. snack was decaf coffee and unsweetened soy milk. (I had to do something to make the “milk” drinkable.) I still can’t look at a plate of food without seeing its protein and carbohydrate estimates in my head.

screenshot of the Omada app showing the list of protein, fiber, fat and sugar stats

Most people don’t have my experiences. And I know myself. For instance, if I eat a meal out, even if I make the good choices, I will gain 3 pounds the next day.

Most people don’t stay invested in their choices like I do– so if I only eat 50% nutritious, how does a standard American diet rank? I wouldn’t want to know.

So far today, I have had:

  • about 16 ounces iced coffee with a healthy pour of half and half. (That comes in at 50% because the coffee is considered a healthy drink, even if I drink it at every meal. The half and half on the other hand is not nutritious, because of its saturated fat content, but it has calcium, vitamin D and protein and isn’t sweetened or processed like other creamers.)
  • For breakfast, a little more than half an apple with skin on, with cinnamon sugar and mixed nuts. Water, 30 ounces, and one scoop of my Powdervitamin electrolyte powder which has no calories, is the most dense with minerals and salt, and sweetened with stevia. But because of the sugar on my apples and the powder, that again ranks my meal as only 50% nutritious. I could have used a processed caramel fruit dip or an icing and Omada would have ranked my choice as just as it did when I added just a touch of sugar. And the electrolyte powder gets treated like a sugary Gatorade even though I need that supplement to prevent orthostatic hypotension because I don’t eat many sodium-rich foods and I drink so much water. How many other people drink 50+ ounces of fluid before 9 a.m.????

My plan remains simple… More movement, more yoga, eating at home, and not eating due to stress. And in a few months or maybe a year I will write a blog post like this. Again. Which I do so frequently. As I struggle and fail and disappoint myself. But permanent change is a long game and it’s hard when the only person who holds the power and the motivation is yourself.

The Medical Refund I Didn’t Ask For

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

I keep promising myself that I won’t let this blog anguish and fade into nothing, and then I fail. If you miss me, check out Parisian Phoenix Publishing on the web or social media or sign up for my weekly-ish Substack newsletter. (Which you can do here.)

While I keep intending to do more jovial hometown adventures and life updates about the cats, the bird or the dog, it doesn’t happen. (We have TWO dogs this week as we have a jovial mutt with us as a boarding client. He’s a joy to be around, and he’s such a confident and stereotypical dog compared to our depression-prone backyard-bred pit mix.)

Eva’s dog has received a custom muzzle as a safeguard against her fear-based reactivity. And the difference it makes in our ability to trust her with new dogs and people and her comfort while wearing it is amazing. If you have a dog with issues, a custom muzzle is a game-changer.

But today I want to talk about what happened when I returned from Ireland regarding my emergency room visit two months prior. And I might sound like a conspiracy theorist, but it is what it is.

I have a high-deductible, employer-sponspored health plan through my husband, but as we are separated, I do not ask him to use his HSA. The HSA absorbs a lot of those out-of-pocket expenses. And my husband’s employer gives him money for the HSA as an incentive to take the high-deductible plan.

I have done the math. As a family, we have had the high-deductible PPO plan for 20 years. It sounds scary at first, but the monthly premiums are way cheaper than the other plans and the PPO allows us to see any doctor we want when we want, and when you have chronic issues, that’s important. I briefly had an HMO in the late 1990s when I had never had any health insurance before and no real medical treatment post age five, and my primary care doctor sent me to a podiatrist who specialized in ankles for my gait issues because he was pretty much the only provider in network. He told me there was nothing anyone could do without finding a provider in a major city.

And by the way, he was wrong.

If you don’t know, a high-deductible plan means that the insurance company pays nothing of any of your expenses until the deductible is met. In my case, that’s $3,500. BUT, my out-of-pocket maximum is $5,000 a year.

The ER Bills

As you may recall, (if not here it is: the original post and the ortho follow-up) in early January I had a fall and I debated between going to the ER or the urgent care because of my history with afib after bodily trauma… I was not in afib, but I did break my thumb, which has not fully recovered.

That fall led to about $800 in out-of-pocket orthopedic specialist bills and about $3,000 for the emergency room. Now, I use AblePay which allowed me to schedule payments for these services and gain a cash discount. For the ER bill, I opted to pay more than $2,000 in one lump sum of my American Express because it allowed me the largest discount. I then used the AmEx PlanIt feature to schedule that into monthly payments for a fee instead of accruing interest. In the end, I didn’t save money but it allowed me to space the payments.

But then… randomly, a full month after I paid 100% of the ER bill in a lump sum of on my credit card, my insurance company (Capital Blue Cross) decided to renegotiate the bill– which remember, they did not pay. I did.

I did not know this was happening. I was less than $200 away from my out-of-pocket maximum for the year so I scheduled regular chiropractor appointments and a mental health check-in with my therapist. The chiropractor appointments help me not twist my body into weird contortions that further cause complications from my irregular gait, and since my chiropractor Nicole was originally a physical therapist, she helps me stretch and monitors my gait to make sure my feet “do feet things.”

So, while I have debt from the ER visit, I can now have chiropractor appointments every other week for a small coinsurance amount ($40). And that is a huge help to my mobility.

On a Friday afternoon, I get an email from AblePay and a notification from AmEx that I had a $1700 refund on my recent medical bill. Which sounds great, right?

I logged onto Capital Blue to see what was going on, and indeed they had renegotiated my bill, which rolled back my previously met deductible and out-of-pocket maximum. And I had two chiropractor appointments and two therapist appointments that I was now responsible for. That’s about $700.

And I know what you are thinking, that still leaves me $1,000 ahead. But oh no it does not. Because remember, I had only paid one payment of my planned credit card charge. So the whole refund went to the charge, and I still needed to pay the remaining several hundred.

I negotiated a payment plan with my therapist and canceled all my upcoming chiropractor appointments.

I wish I could tell you that was where the story ends.

Present Day Repercussions

When I was in Ireland, I walked a lot more than usual. A lot more. As it was a relatively last-minute trip, I didn’t have a chance to try and get myself in shape. So I attributed the discomfort to my out-of-shape-ed-ness and called it a day.

But I am experiencing problems again. For the last week, I have been experiencing increased muscle pain in both my legs. My left leg usually does not hurt. My right leg always hurts. Like every day, I experience at least a pain level one but typically two or three. It’s like there is a braid of muscle that splits the back of my thigh muscle and presents with a constant pulsing, ache. But increasingly, my calves are experiencing extreme, painful muscle stiffness, in both legs, and my knees hurt.

My flexibility is better than usual, and I have no problems with my back, but if I touch the floor, it kills me to straighten my legs.

And this morning, after a week or so of this, and several days of feeling like my legs aren’t attached to my body when I walk, I started to cry. I caught myself, but I still started to cry. I took an extra dose of my baclofen– at double strength, and that made the calf pain go away. But I’m struggling to use my legs. And I’m getting damn tired of it.

I have tried to find and label what muscle hurts, but I can’t.

I suspect I need physical therapy. I have tried to take short but regular walks, making sure that I hit at least 5,000 steps daily, but I think it’s too little too late, and my muscles have forgotten how motion works. This winter was hard, long and cold; and with my part-time fast food job laying me off, I don’t stand and walk as much as I have during the last year.

But that leg pain I refer to as a braid? That started shortly after Stitch Fix closed. I think because I went from a job where I stood eight hours a day to a sedentary job. That’s almost three years of the same pain. That has now intensified.

So, why don’t I call the neurologist?

Because she costs $220.

And if she wants tests, I can’t afford those.

And If she agrees that I need physical therapy to stretch out and retrain muscles, that’s thousands of dollars. It sounds ridiculous. That a six-week physical therapy session would rack of thousands of dollars, but when I broke my ankle, which was TEN years ago, that cost me $5,500. That deductible and co-insurance adds up.

This is when I miss my Medicaid.

Becuase I work hard, everyday, and I just can’t afford the treatment and maintenance that would improve my quality of life.

And it sucks.

To make a choice everyday to deny yourself care you need.

Because of money.

And I believe– and maybe I’m wrong– that Capital One renegotiated my ER bill because I hit that out-of-pocket maximum and they didn’t want to pay my upcoming bills.

Our health care system, specifically for-profit, employer-sponsored health insurance, sucks.

It’s broken.

A prison and a pub

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Ireland has only had its independence from the British for about a hundred years. And the North of Ireland is still part of the United Kingdom, a fact that leaves the Irish with a special understanding for a land undergoing occupation, a people being oppressed, or a refugee needing a home.

My academic interest is post-colonial Francophone Africa, especially in how the French treated the North African Muslims differently than the other African colonial populations. I never finished my master’s in world history, but now I wonder if I did finish if it might be pertinent to look at the British and the Irish, the Protestants versus the Catholics, as the most powerful cultural conflicts often have roots in religion. Many Irish are pro-Palestine and pro-Ukrainian people. It’s not hard to see why.

For breakfast, we hopped on a double decker public bus, green and yellow TFI (transportation for Ireland), We rode the 13 and the 27. We headed over to Ernesto’s Café, and we arrived just in time as it got very busy by the time we left.

The café decor has a certain revolutionary Spanish theme while creating artisanal breakfasts. I had the berry scone with chantilly cream, berry compote and of course Irish butter.

From one of the posters on the wall:

I’d rather trust a dealer on a badly lit street corner than a criminal in a three piece suit

Upon return to our hotel, M managed to grab tickets for Kilmainham Goal, the old county jail turned famous Dublin prison that housed the leaders of the Easter Uprising. The narrow halls are from its early county jail days where prisoners were housed one per cell. The larger Victorian-era addition looks much more like our modern prisons today. The jail housed men, women and children. And the amount of people passing through its doors went up 10-fold during the Potato Famine, as (1) begging became a crime and (2) people committed crimes to go to jail to have food and shelter.

It’s hard to see against the stone, but in the one photo there’s a small cross. That’s where most of the leaders of the Easter Uprising were shot by British firing squad. One man was shot on the opposite side because he never recovered from wounds sustained in the uprising and he was shot while propped up in a chair.

In the evening, we went to Darkey Kelly’s to listen to Irish music and I had Guinness Stew.

I’m mentioning it here because most of the traditional Irish music talks about fighting the British– which they’ve done for 800 years.

Nothing we did today featured an interactive tourist experience.

Thank God.

Books in Dublin

Angel Ackerman 2 Comments

Upon arrival in Dublin, we took a whirlwind tour of St. Stephen’s Square and Trinity College. Old cathedrals are an amazing place to really see the majesty of architecture, because so many resources and the greatest marvels went into building them. Christ Church apparently houses the Magna Carta. A city, especially one with Viking roots, acquires a lot of significance in 900 years.

Our second day here, we visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The woman who sold us our tickets was on a banner outside. The church is visble from M’s room. And I did hear my fair share of church bells this morning.

After St. Patrick’s, we visited neighboring Marsh’s Library, a preserved 18th-century library where Bram Stoker did his research. The books in Marsh’s library are older than the United States of America.

Granted, that’s not nearly as old as the book we saw later that day. In the afternoon, we saw the Book of Kells. It’s beneath a screwed-down glass plate inside a glass cube. It’s open to a page from the Book of Matthew in the New Testament. The hall outside the dark room where they house the manuscript has some explanatory material. They also had reproductions of some of the pages. They also went through how to make vellum and what materials they used to create pigments and inks. The manuscript is 1200 years old. In Ireland, that’s not that old, but that’s old for a book!

The next stop after the Book of Kells is the Book of Kells Experience– and that takes you into a room where you can interact with busts of famous authors (that freakishky bat their eyes and talk) or use the QR codes to read academic background on various significant figures. Because I mentioned Bram Stoker above, I’ve included him here as well.

We stepped into Trinity College’s Long Room, which won’t have books in it for much longer. They are doing some restoration work. The room features the art installation Gaia, Ireland’s oldest surviving harp, and the Proclamation of the Irish Republic. And it’s a majestic space.

Trinity College was founded in 1592 by Queen Elizabeth I, and M’s family member who attends here told us that the main green field on campus was designed specifically not to be big enough to play traditionally Irish sports.

In every neighborhood in each city we have visited, we have seen multiple bookstores. Near Trinity, we stopped in at Hodges Figgis. They had an entire room of Irish history and Irish fiction. It took all my self control not to buy exorbitant amounts of history books.

Since 1768, Hodges Figgis has been at the forefront of celebrating Ireland’s rich literary heritage. From timeless classics to contemporary masterpieces, our shelves are adorned with a diverse array of Irish books spanning every genre. Whether you’re a seasoned bibliophile or a curious newcomer, our expert booksellers are here to guide you on a journey through Ireland’s vibrant literary landscape.

This was where I also confirmed that my debit card would only work in certain places with certain processors. Elavon, the same processor I use for Parisian Phoenix, services some of the shops here. Those shops can take my card. I had completely forgotten that Capital One switched to the Discover network and now the card I have used all over the world is fairly useless. Sad really. I had that bank account specifically for travel and it has been used in multiple locations in Europe and in Africa.

Cliffs of Moher and Galway with Wild Rover

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

Today started early.

I was up at 5 a.m. to do some writing before leaving for Cliffs of Moher and Galway on Wild Rover Tours. It’s clear across the country, as Dublin is on the east coast and rather central and this day trip would take us straight across the the west coast and the Atlantic Ocean.

We met the bus at 6:55.

We left the hotel at 6:30.

I experienced some unusual motion sickness. So M took that as an occasion to drug me on the way home.

We stopped at a service plaza where I purchased overnight oats that turned out to be the best oatmeal I ever had.

The Cliffs were gorgeous but they had a lot of wind. The wind tossed people around.

Ireland has stone walls that serve as property lines and date back 5,000 years. I knew that, in a way, but I did not suspect how many there are. They are everywhere. The Burren, as Stephen the tour guide said, had some of the most welcoming, beautiful scenery anywhere in the world. As M said, “I don’t usually get off on a field of grass but…”

I don’t have many photos because I needed to save my phone’s battery life as we were away all day. The bus had USB charging ports but I have a USB-C cord. Perhaps if M reads this he will send some of his photos.

But I do have a video of some unusual, but also ordinary, traffic. Keep in mind, they drive on the left in Ireland so that narrow passageway in the video is indeed the other lane. “This is what we call gridlock traffic” Click here.

The craziest part of the day was when we reached Claddagh Jewellers on Shop Street in Galway, I felt something family about the branding of the shop. I studied the window displays and I found the wedding rings Darrell Parry and I ordered from the Irish store, Donegal Square, in downtown Bethlehem. We spent hundreds of dollars on them and waited for months for them to arrive from Ireland.

And we got compliments on them all the time. In the last photo in the series, the gold ring directly in the center of the bottom row is the men’s version.

A visit to Guinness Storeroom in Dublin

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

What we heard: The Guinness Storeroom has the most amazing view of Dublin.

What they don’t tell you: The Guinness Storeroom is a seven-story funnel designed to cram as many people as possible into a glitzy special effects zone that glosses over the basics of beer production.

The self-guided tour functions in a spiral that forces the visitor upward until they finally reach a rooftop bar surrounded 360 degrees by floor-ceiling glass. That’s where the ticket holder gets their pint, while surveying some of the most beautiful views of Dublin. But at the time, you get to share the space with hordes of other people, not enough seating and some of the loudest music you’ve ever heard.

So, it’s like a crowded bar on the weekend in vivid daylight.

And for fans of industrial history like me, it’s a disappointment.

And who decided to pass out lots of alcohol and tell people to climb stairs and escalators…

I probably would have paid extra to skip the fields of barley and cascading water to focus on a quiet room with historical artifacts.

The cask-making room was the best done– with displays of all the tools and photos of the men working. There were videos of how it was done and signs about how back-breaking the work was. But it was tiny, with ginormous piles of casks that competed with the actual history.

And the trains were on the same floor as the cafe. It made the trains feel like an afterthought instead of the exhibit.

But next to the trains there was an interesting piece of artwork. A sculpture listing the surnames of the workers. That was a fascinating recognition that industry is built on the backs of people.

Takeaway and the World Cup Qualifier

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I wish I could tell you I went to bed early last night, but at 7 p.m. I got my second or third wind. M suggested Indian takeaway, because we felt it would be a great experience to get takeaway, because Americans do take-out and our takeaways are lessons not dinner.

And Spice & Rice had fal— an extremely spicy item.

He did not order fal. He ordered spicy chicken vindaloo and I ordered lamb korma, which shocked him because I don’t normally do mild dishes. I got the meal for one deal for 20.95 euros, which included a drink, a starter, a pilau rice, a naan (I got mango peshwaari)and poppadom. So much food. I don’t know how they consider that meal for one. That is easily meal for two.

We wandered down to the restaurant around 7:30 p.m. and it was dead, enough so that M was nervous that maybe the food would be bad. While the food cooked, we meandered to the end of the block to Peader Brown‘s, a traditional Irish pub that has a history of Irish Republicanism. They had several televisions visible from the tented outdoor area as they were at capacity because of the World Cup Qualifying match between the Czech Republic and Ireland.

The moon was bright and the game was amazing, each time we went to return for our takeaway, the Irish team scored. We wondered if maybe we were a good luck charm.

We read the pro-Palestine posters, and M even noticed a Palestinian flag across the street. That’s not surprising as the Irish are acutely aware of the politics of ownership by occupation.

We also started calling the Czech team and each other feckin eejits as I had stopped at a curiosities shop earlier in the day where they had some interesting mugs and dirty feckin eejit soap. (“Weird is wonderful,” the window said.”

This also led to M and I conversing about why Ireland has such a “cussing culture” and my hypothesis went to the idea that the Irish have a long history as a working class culture, people who have survived on an island for a very long time (in Dublin’s case 900 years).

Speaking of oddities, I saw a sign in the window of the barber:

“Spectacles and Wooden Legs always Wanted.”

We brought the takeaway back to our room where we stuffed ourselves with a delicious feast that we could not finish. So we piled it into the fridge, but we have no microwave so we may need to reheat it with some creativity with hot water from the electric kettle.

And then we turned on the game.

Now we were exhausted and stuffing our faces with Indian food, but the Irish team was giving it their everything. And we couldn’t stop watching.

The game remained 2-2 and went into double overtime, and an Irish player and a Czech player collided so hard the Irish player left on a backboard. (I have to Google that and see if he’s okay.) Those boys were tired, sweaty, covered with grass stains and still playing an intense game.

And then it went to penalty kicks. M tapped out. He can’t handle penalty kicks. But I had to know who won. The Czech team missed the third kick. The Irish team missed the fourth. Then the Irish team missed the fifth and the Czechs did not. The Czechs won the game on the fifth penalty kick.

From the news:

New York Times

Irish Mirror

I should have grabbed a Guinness. (I’m glad I didn’t because I needed a good night’s sleep! We even have pint glasses in the room.)

First Day in Dublin, Ireland

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

First off, forgive any typos or strange word choice in this entry as we came to Dublin via a Delta flight from Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C., to Logan Airport in Boston, and then the transatlantic (in coach) to Dublin. The first flight left D.C. at about 6:30 and landed a little after eight, and the second flight left a little after 11 p.m. Eastern Time and landed at 8:45 a.m. Dublin time.

I thought it sounded like plenty of time to sleep– but I didn’t account for the four-hour time difference (which changes back to five hours Sunday) which meant the plane technically left at a little after 11 p.m. and landed at 4:45 a.m. eastern time. And on top of that, they did a dinner meal service right after take-off (which M and I both skipped) and that meant we couldn’t recline our seats until midnight.

Not that reclining our seats added comfort. Those seats felt like sitting on a boulder and today my ass hurts.

And then they did a light breakfast and drink service at the equivalent of 4 a.m. eastern.

If you were good at falling alseep on planes, you are looking at 4 hours of sleep on this flight. I am not good at falling asleep on planes. My watch says I got one hour and 18 minutes of sleep, but M and I think that figure might be closer to two hours.

But enough bitching. I’m thrilled to be here and having a great time, even if my meager nap got interrupted meaning I only gained another ten minutes of sleep.

That is also why I am not dealing with too many photos right now. I will do a photo gallery later.

Also: random side note– the European Union rules on how web sites can collect data are very different from the United States so I am constantly reviewing cookies and practices that I use every day at home as if I am seeing them for the first time. Accept cookies?

We are staying in the Hyatt Centric, The Liberties, Dublin. My room has a pod-fed espresso machine, an electric tea kettle, a selection of teas, unrefrigerated milk in a glass jar, and a bottle opener. I wondered if I needed it for something– the bottle opener– but then I realized:

I’m in Ireland. The assumption is everyone in Ireland needs a bottle opener at some point of the day.

M. mentioned to the immigration officer at the airport that it was colder than he expected. And the officer replied:

“It’s always warm in the pub.”

M thought he said “in the pool.”

I reminded him we were in Ireland. Not pool.

The main event today was touring Trinity College with M’s family member doing her graduate work here.

Door at Trinity College
Parliament Square at Trinity

The tower in the one photo from Trinity houses a bell, and there’s a superstition that if you walk under the bell and it rings, you will fail your exams. And the bell rings at random intervals, according to our student attending, so you never know…

View from my room

M and I have separate rooms and I chose this one downstairs– and it does not have the traditional desired view. M’s room looks to the street and St. Patrick’s Catherdral.

But I like this view, the angles of the hotel, it’s modern lines, and the traditional brick building in the distance.

Doors seem to be a theme for me on this initial day of wandering 10,000 steps around Dublin. So here’s another… for all my classic punk fans…

Preparing for a travel day

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Today is technically day five of my Spring Break tour to Washington, D.C., and Dublin, Ireland. I have been here at my friend M’s house since Sunday, where Eva and I spent the day at the Smithsonian National Zoo.

Despite the fact that this is a vacation and a visit with a friend whom I have not seen recently, we also both have to work. And once we head to Dublin, hopefully the real vacationing will begin.

The dining has been superb, even though I have not left the house since I returned from the zoo. We all love food here. Sunday we had pasta with a vodka-style cream sauce (without the vodka), Monday we had grilled cheese on rye with gruyere and a lovely tomato soup that reminded me of the Pacific Foods cream of tomato I used to enjoy (which was the only tomato soup I’ve ever liked), and last night we had blackened tofu with cheesy grits and a side of carrots. Breakfasts have consisted of various cheeses on toast– from reaper cheese to truffle cheese.

M. and his family moved into this house eight years ago, and Gayle gave him tea towels her sister had crocheted. They are still in daily use.

On Monday, I never got out of my pajamas. On Tuesday, I showered and got dressed. Today I got up, dressed, and combed my hair. And I packed. I have my ancient carry-on bag with the leopard print exterior, and in that is my man-bag crossover purse, and I plan to take my laptop bag/backpack on the plane.

I have dressed extremely comfortably, and have a sweatshirt for warmth with a raincoat and scarf in my backpack. I try to be practical and prepared without hauling too much shit. Once we get to Ireland, I will reorganize everything so I have my purse ready for outings and my backpack stays at the hotel.

More later friends.