So no sooner were Po and I back from Miami than the renewal for her artist's visa, at long last, came on through. Me: "Wow, that's fantastic baby!! What are we going to do? How are we going to celebrate?" Po: "Well, you know how long it's been since I've been back to see my family..." (Po's parents, you see, keep two residences in Russia: an apartment in Moscow as well as a cottage on the Black Sea. Thing is, though, Polina herself hasn't been able to visit either for several years now, due to potential visa complications... But indeed, now that her 3-year renewal had come up--this along with my own assurances that I would, should any complications arise and should the Russian embassy decide to keep her in Moscow indefinitely, head over there myself, marry her (gypsy wedding and all!) and then bring her back with me to the States--it would seem that the Po was finally emboldened enough to risk venturing back out of the US to see her parents for several weeks.) A few days later: and she was booked on a flight to Moscow. As for myself: yes, I briefly thought of coming along (I've yet to see Russia, actually), but as it really has been so terribly long since she's spent any time with her family, in the end, I felt I didn't need to be the fifth wheel (well, technically, the fourth wheel, but surely one gets the idea) on that one... (Po's parents speak little English, I speak no Russian, and while Po herself speaks both perfectly, surely the constant ongoing translation, over the dinner table, would have grown maddening for all involved soon enough!)
Of course, then, what's a lad to do when his Russian Pop Star Girlfriend heads back to the Motherland to see her family, leaving him to his own devices for what's sure to be at least several weeks?
Ireland, lads. Ireland. (Believe me, this was not a difficult choice to make...)
Just so happens, one of my best mates Barry (aka Clan McBrien), an actor friend who I met years ago while training at the New York Film Academy, was back in Dublin at the moment, and was more than ready to entertain for a few days should I decide to come over and get a few pints in me. And so, as Po left for Moscow on a Saturday, I left Dublin two days later on a Monday (no better distraction than all the pints you can manage, eh?).
As it happens, this wasn't my first time in the Dub--I'd spent two weeks there about ten years ago (crashed my superbike in a port town in the UK, and as the mechanic told me--after marveling I was still alive--that it would be at least two weeks before he could fix the thing, my mate Stewart and I whimsically decided to hop on the ferry to Dublin, in our best effort to kill at least that much time in the pubs...); but surely, I thought, I'll get a bit more sight-seeing in this time around... You know, see the Blarney Stone, follow the very same path that Leopold Bloom walked in "Ulysses", all that sort of thing, right?
Nah.
Got over there, got on the jar (as they say), and went right on through 'til a few hours before my flight back. (Ok, granted, we did get out to the country for one afternoon there, but still...) Hit a few pubs in Rathfarnham (the Castle, the Yellow, the Orchard) as well as Dublin itself (too many to list, here), met quite a few of Barry's jazz musician friends (all of them a blast), got twisted--and that, as they say, was that.
Good fun lads, good fun indeed.
As always, photos of the trip here (or under "My Photos", at right): Wandering the Countryside in Ireland
(Above, from left to right: Barry, Rolan, and Marc "Hollow Legs" Adams--pints in Dublin proper. Below, the beautiful Glen Loch, Ireland.)