more from dublin

we had some interesting times in dublin. we were there for four days, traveling to trinity college and the chester beatty museum as front trips. this means that we go, set up a meeting, and talk about one day being able to photograph there. it was a great time, because we would have meetings the first half of the day, and then the second half we were free to see the city. and since we weren't photographing yet, i didn't bring the video camera. i did, however, bring the still camera. the following are shot either on the way to dublin, or in dublin itself. (click to embiggen)

so, with dublin, my mother came up for two weeks. jeff miller had already left, and brett williams came and went to greece. but since my mother was there, it was still four, but this time it was almost as if it was the family and jeff hargis. . . well, ok, it was the wallace family and jeff hargis. which wasn't that bad, but sometimes tensions ran high with the familiarity and the feeling of being left out. once such occasion is as follows.

we were all set for leaving the morning of wednesday from dublin. it was the night before, and we were all tired, so we all headed to bed. my dad said he wanted me to get the cab for the morning 45 minutes ahead of our ferry ride out. i thought this was a bit much, but i was fine with it.

the next morning we woke up, i took a shower and grabbed all my stuff to meet my parents and jeff downstairs. they were having breakfast and said the taxi was on the way. this was about 40 minutes before the ferry was to have left. twenty minutes later, we were still waiting for the cab, standing outside the hotel, with our luggage. the taxi driver finally made it. he kept messing up the hotel room numbers, which were 25 and 29, and the time he was supposed to get us, which was 8:05. so, we were picked up at 8:25, twenty minutes before the ferry was to leave. but, there was traffic. he assured us that the ferries allow passengers to run on shortly before departure. so he raced to the ferry, getting there at 8:40. as i stepped out of the car, i saw the "jonathan swift," the ship that had taken us to dublin, leaving the dock. it was a very hollywood moment and the only time i wished i had my video camera.

so, after about thirty minutes of trying to get a ferry or airplane, we were on our way to the airport, taking ryan air back to cambridge. it's like a bus with wings, having very little to offer in terms of amenities, but cheap. and for short flights in europe, i recommend it. but, like any airline, if you try and buy at the counter, it's very expensive. but we had work that needed to be done that day.

an update . . . sort of

i have been absent of late, mostly because of various adventures and the sort that are trivial in matter. however, we have just come back from a four day trip to dublin, where i will try to recount the days with fewer photos, and more words. the photos will come, but for now, the first story, will be photo-less.

this story comes from the first night.

my dad told me to come with him as we crossed the street in downtown dublin. we had been sitting outside our meager hotel talking after dinner. a woman walked on the other side of the street wearing all white. two hundred paces behind, a man yelled after her. with distance between them, she flicked him off. he jogged after her, and that's when my dad decided to "intervene."

we crossed the street and walked towards them. we always could tell that he was an older gentleman, 50-60, but as we approached her, it seemed time came with us. the make up worked from far away, but as we got closer, what once were weird, night-time city shadows, became the deep crevices that come with a hard life and old age. the hair had been dyed and the clothes purchased to curtail this elderly appearance.

as they fought in what might be concluded as a rocky-marital struggle, prior to being judged as a pugnacious elder chasing a younger woman, i slowed down, but did not stop. my father wanted to stick around, so we followed for about half a block. they turned around, saw but paid no heed to us, and continued their escalating argument. she, still ahead of him, held out money, apparently in an effort to prove that she had some. their russian was thick, but the action was clear, as he ripped the money from her hands. i won't speculate as to what the money was for, but apparently that wasn't the source of the problem. she had already tried to signal a taxi once, being angrily coaxed back to the sidewalk. as she signaled for a taxi for the second time, he grabbed her body back to the pavement, so my dad ran up and yelled, "hey!"

they immediately turned around and she was the first to approach my father. expecting a thank you, i was surprised to hear her say "it's ok" in her russian-laced english. he echoed her, both exchanging looks of anger for polite smiles.

we walked off towards the hotel, satisfied as we had intervened. they walked off cordially in another direction, speaking in softer tones, side by side. "you hate to see that," my father said, as if i needed an explanation for his chivalric act. here was a man who constantly complains about his back, had knee operations that kept him out of vietnam, and has a phd in ancient greek. yet, without hesitation of whether the man has a weapon, he will bolt past his own pain to help a woman he had never met.

to london town

the other day, we left for london. it's about an hour's train ride from cambridge with some great views. when we got there, we first went into the british library. there, i asked if i could film. they said no at first, but i could call "press" and ask them. they had a short conversation with my father and agreed to let us film in the precious documents room, containing codex sinaiticus and the magna carta. it was really cool to get the permission, but it was very dark, so we'll see how it looks.

later, after about fifteen bus rides and getting lost (which made for great footage), we went into the trafalger square. this is a beautiful area that has several statues and monuments right outside the national gallery. i filmed in there for a few moments, capturing a couple statues here and there. then, a man tapped me on the shoulder. he asked me what i was doing. i replied simply that i was filming. he simply told me this was not allowed. apparently i need special permission from the city hall in order to film inside the square. i asked where that was. he misheard me, and though i asked where i could film. he said i needed to get five meters behind the entrance stairs. this seemed odd with zoom lenses, but i obliged, putting away my camera. during this "confrontation with the law," two other officers approached, making sure i was no longer filming.

after this, we stopped by the churchill bunker next to st. james park. i didn't even try to film in there, as it was not advantageous to the film, nor was it a productive idea. but it was fun to visit. it is tucked away underneath a government building with fake sandbags outside. a great place to see.

then we walked along st. james park, noticing how most of the people were not british. there were a few, and they were playing football (the british kind). we then passed by buckingham palace, where i saw the changing of the guards from across the street. i got a couple pictures, but no video, as i assumed this was off limits, too. i will later get some outside of the roundabout.

then, on the in/famous harrod's. it is interesting that they will sell anything (including estates in dubai). it is also interesting that when they have a speciality they are selling, say cuban cigars, or italian coffee, they hire natives from these countries. but other than that, it just seems like a big store. a big store and a place to spend money where i have none. but it was interesting.

we are now back in cambridge. we got one of our first official negative reports (we've had a few previous emails, but they seem to change their minds when seeing us in person, rather than a random person from america), so this week could be a little less productive. there are some meetings set for monday, and, with jeff miller having left us on saturday, we are getting a replacement with a brett . . . crap, i just forgot his last name . . . anyway, he's a brett.

the first fruits

so, here we are. we have finished shooting at christ's college. they never allowed me to film, passing the buck from one person to the next, saying it would cost money, that it would need special permission that couldn't be granted until october, that perhaps someone could arrange something. but nothing could get done. tomorrow is the last meeting.

now it's on to leicester (pronounced "lester"). i shot my first interview with my father in the car on the way to the records library. it was an hour and a half drive and a 55 minute interview. i think i'm starting to get a handle on what this documentary is going to look like, and how i will shoot it.

as for leicester, it's like a small, forgotten-about, mid-west town that has alot of elderly people. cambridge is completely different. it has an unabashed history. the buildings are forced upon you, with hundreds of years suddenly there in front of you. with the blue card that tyndale house on selwin gardens gives us we are allowed to go inside these colleges (there are 22) whenever they are open. they usually charge to step foot on their property, but we are allowed to use these campuses as passageways on our daily treks. the antiquated beauty is amazing to see, every day.

there is a quietness to the normal cambridge life. walking the cobblestone streets at eight in the morning, the beautiful bells tolling hour, there is a sense of importance that is about to begin the day.

there seems to be several different areas to cambridge. the area near tyndale house is deafeningly quiet. only a few pubs, a few colleges and several trees. trees create barriers along the streets, forming borders on the sidewalks and streets with their leaves.

as you approach the colleges, the cam river, which splits in several spots, is teaming with punts. these are driven by hired help or a friend, forcing large poles into the bottom of river, which has long been layered with rocks to help with this touristic past-time.

when you get into the city, the pubs' numbers increase exponentially, the stores look a little familiar, but with a nice british taste. homeless men sell "the big issue" at nearly every major street corner, and people from all around the world relive the history.

it's a cool place. and i still have a lot of filming to do . . .