BILAMBIL CALLING : THOUGHTS FROM DAVE ' THE BLOKE' OVENDEN

ANOTHER IRISH EXPERIENCE

Another Irish experience…2006…

[July August]

A little lagged an catchin’ up at the Amsterdam airport, as I write this down; now it’s a 7am sunny summers morn, light blue sky, wispy clouds floating by…Anyhow I’m sittin’ here watchin’ the passing parade as I roll up and sip on a nice brewed cup a coffee…

After a long drawn out 12 hour flight through the night with those big KLM Jumbo jet engines droning on through the dark sky, good food to eat, an lots to drink, an a sweet attractive looking Asian chick sitting tight at the side of me, but that’s not all…

It all started the other day when Asha drove me to the Robina station, to train it to Brisbane for my O.S. flight.

Then after the long slow steppn’ line to check through;

And then a bit of a wait, till I’m buckled up an in the air.

As we bank and head north I’m a thinkin… you bewdy here I goes again, while that big jet plane is climbing an slicing through the clouds…so I’m high in the sky an the land of OZ is way down there below…

Kuala Lumpa next stop…Sometime during the afternoon flight, I’m on me feet for a bit of stand up time, up the back, at the tail end of this long flying thing… So as I’m standing there sipping at me Gin and Tonic… Somehow I gets involved in a conversation with this schoolteacher from Cairns…

Well, she likes to drink, an so do I…Well we waffled on, had a few laughs, swapped e mails, got a phone number… Then it’s belt up for a touch down at the hot an steamy Kuala Lumpa, airport…

I hope Shelly made her connecting flight to Borneo… Anyhow I slowly gets through customs…And there I be standing around with me bags, it’s a 30 odd degrees night time sticky sweaty tropical heat…And then this young fella steps from this snazzy little car an says ‘ hey you mister O, Ovein deen’…I answers back as quick as I got something to say, in that nighttime heat, there on the street…

‘yea no worries mate, that be me’…so off we go zooming along the freeway, then down along, over and under them other streets, and there’s an unusual smell in the air, somewhat, I imagine like that of fermenting Rock Mellon…

So I checks into this salubris looking hotel, and I’m feeling an away kind of friskiness, so I says to the young porter, who’s carrying me bags, ‘what’s the story on a lady for awhile’, he says, ‘what’s you’re room number, I’ll call you in 30 minutes’, then at my room I settle in and excitedly wait, while down there in the foyer on the big screen is the Soccerroos playing’ Italy in a world cup knock out match and it’s nil all early in the first half, but I have another agenda on my mind…Then there’s a knock on the door…I open…Wowsers, there before me, a most beautiful sight, standing there giggling is a couple of cute looking Asian sweeties smiling, dark eyes dancing, as shapely as the wind, and oh so lively looking…So then I had the most difficult job of picking one from the two…I made the call; the other one puts on a pout an flashed her dark and sexy  eyes an says…‘bye bye’…

Well I could write another book about the things that went on there and then on that hot night in the East…But there are some things a bloke should keep to himself…So; after a sope up in the shower, then a kiss an cuddle tut tah…she says ‘bye bye’ an takes off into the night… I jump the lift to the foyer and catch the second half of that world cup soccer match…Soccerroos still nil all with the Azurie…

It’s deep into the second half with 10 minutes to go…

Then oh no, they played for a penalty, an got the kick…as cool as azure they put that round ball into the back of the net…Italia 1 Australia 0… I sleep with mixed emotions…

So I’m up and about before ten, then, hit the breakfast room for a big smorgasbord, Malay style nosebag, orange juice, fresh fruit, other tasty pieces, then a small pancake with jam ‘n’ cream, followed by a freshly brewed hot cuppa coffee…I’m as FULL AS A FAT LAIDIES SOCK…

After a burp, closely followed with a few farts, I elevate self down to street level and take a walk up an down the busy city streets…Lots of cars moving, horns beeping an Muslims walking to an fro, with the noise, and the traffic fumes, that sweet swinging smell of the East is in the air…

As the afternoon rolled on I took a few dips in the cool pool

 Then wet and lying back warming, my thoughts took a trip as I soaked up the tropical sun…Ok the now keeps moving.

Get myself a bite to eat, an be waiting with me bags, in the foyer at 8 pm…I get me call, bags are in the boot, then it’s a roll along that big wide freeway, past them big two tall lit up, joined in the middle, towers standing there, as I pass by.

So…Airports is airports when you’re in transit…Put me bags through, show me passport, get me seat number, smile at the lady who’s friendly on the job, then hang about for a couple hours before the long night flight…Call up, mount up, buckle up, take off and high into that long dark night time Jet plane sky…My now time then, as I was moving fast, was really slowly droning on, and on and on…

First the dawning then the morning as I’m chatting along with this nice looking Asian sort, and the conversational putty was soft and warm…My thoughts were rising as that big blue and white, KLM, Jumbo jet that kept me there through that long uncomfortable night; began to descend…

Not soon enough, with a bump and a shuddering touch down, a rumble and roar as we slow down to ground speed.

I’m here again at that beaut place to be. Amsterdam airport.

As I’m walking up the corridor I catch a random search, an a poke through me shoulder bag, they found nothing but a few burnt CD’s, and an airplane chew bar…Then as I sit back in this nice open place, roll a smoke, and sip on a coffee while watching the passing parade…I think, this is where I started this story…Oh yea I’ve repeated the rave, I’m in a loop and have overlapped…

Ok so I’m tucked in tight on a crowded Aer Lingus flight across the North sea, over old England, then across the Irish sea to touch down with a bump an a shudder at the Dublin airport…I wait for me blue bag to come round, then wander out to meet and greet Bard an Maria with wide smiles… after some tight hugs we chitty chat as we walk to the car park, and load me bags in their little blue Ford mobile…

We drive along the busy narrow Dublin streets laughing an talking till we reach 41 Highfield road, and the little gray flat with a lovely green backyard garden where the fruit trees are loaded, with nearly ripe Apples Pears an Plums…

We have a nice cuppa tea, I unpack me bags, then I hit the horizontal for an afternoon kip, I feel nice, cozy and comfortably snoozing when Bard digs me up just as I’m about to slip into the deep and dreamy land of zeds…

I jump a quick shower and I’m ready to hook into the evening meal, with a nice bottle of red breathing on the table…I’m feeling grand and happy to be here…After we eat we settle back an watch a home made family video, staring Asha, Jesse an little Jettman…Its about midnight as I hit the sack for some more zeds to stack…Some time during the night I wake up an I’m busting for a leak, I gets meself upright an stumbles about in the dark, then crash, I walks into a pot plant on a stand, everything is broken and there’s a pile of dirt on the floor, oops, anyhow I eventually find the dunny, strains the spuds then stagers back to me cosy little cot and blissfully sleep till mid morning…

Mon 3^rd July…

I awakes and rises from the horizontal, ah it’s morning time in Dublin town, I open the window wider, stick me head out, and in hail with a good sniff of that sweet swinging Irish air…And I new I was there…It’s time for a cuppa tea.

After a sip and a slurp, I roll one up an take a wander out the back, down the tight narrow stairway, then stepping along the stone path, green green grass either side of me, big old Oak tree, Raspberry’s, little splashes of red amongst the green leaves, a Plum tree with branches reaching out and drooping, loaded with fruit, a couple of Apple trees nearly ready to pick, a large Rosemary an Bay leaf bush, light green Gooseberries an Rhubarb growing up the back where the old stone fence is still standing; it’s a sunny summers day, and the birds are chirping as they flitter about with a back drop of blue sky…I’m a thinking to my self, I’m a lucky man, this is a good now time to have…

Then I lays back throughout the afternoon, browsing Bards beaut collection of Bukowski books…I enjoy a nice meal, then sleep soundly with the ear plugs tuned to the Gaelic speaking, traditional music playing radio station…

The next few days, I think it was a Tuesday or a Wednesday…Well; they just came and went, while there then, sometime when, those nowtime days slid by…

Thurs…Bard an Maria are off to work, I strolls up the street where the horns are honking and the Irish people are busy going to and fro bustling up an down the narrow street, I aim to get the makings, Spag Bol, Garlic bread, an a bottle of Red is the menu for the nose bag tonight…It’ll be orright

It’s been a few days now, no fuck ups, just slotting into the swing of things, digging my time with Bard an Maria…

Fri morning; I’m sitting on the bench type seat in the back yard soaking up the sun, and then I hear a rustle and when I look up, there on a low reaching branch of that big old Oak tree, is mister Squirrel, sitting there as bold as can be, with it’s big dark brown eyes looking down at me…

After lunch, Me an Maria, [or should I say, Maria and I] we catch a double Decker bus down along the road from Rathgar to Dublin town, and as we weave, swerve an sway our way through the winding streets of the city; I’m on the top deck, sitting there hanging on and wondering how the bus driver is dealing with this just miss, and tight fix...

We alight in one piece, then on that bridge we cross the Liffy and stroll toward that wide happening place, with old stone statues, Jim Larkin arms spred wide, that big tall silver pike pointing skyward, James Joyce looking dapper in bronze, that Thin Lizzy bloke with a big black Affro…

Young and happy people on the go, the odd Gipsy type young lady with babe in arms and hand out for some coins..

Ya can’t help but feel the beat, when your there amongst the faces of the people walking along, O’Connell street…

We meander on toward the museum, where we take in the many ancient and historical sights, there’s many a wild and far out thought rolling through my mind, as we view the two thousand year old, well preserved Bog bodies...              I sights up with the digital an takes a snap, and then I gets a firm tap on the shoulder, I turns around to see a big burly security guard, with a smiling face and a steely look in his eyes, like he’s telling me without saying anything…You shoot one more flash and I’ll shove that thing up your arse, sideways…

I sheepishly go back to thinking about that unfortunate time when those souls, that died a gruesome death, way back then, tortured, mutilated, heads chopped off, cut in half then chucked into the Peat Bog, and now I see …           Inside a glass enclosure, the well preserved, torso’s, with there twistered faces showing the horror of there ordeal…

We walk about, checking out the music shops, and I, casting an eye on the Mandolins hanging on the wall…

After a cup of coffee and a geek at the passing parade we bus it back to Rathgar, pack the car, cause when Bard gets back from work were off to Donigal, to stay at Ballybofey, while Maria’s folks are away…Brian an Daphne they be over there in Frog land to take in the Tour de France…

It’s a long slow drawn out four hour road ride, through the middle and up into the North; along the way there’s rolling green hills, a few old stone slow time falling down castles, little towns where the buildings sit tight upon the curb and the narrow road winds its way through to the other side…

We roll along, the Bards at the wheel; John Lee Hooker cutting his licks an jumping from the little round speakers, Maria’s sucking on an Ice’y Pole, as I sit in the back an watch the sights, while the country side slides by…

Here we are at that two-story house, just off the road, along a winding track, tucked in tight amongst them tall trees, with moss growing up the trunks, a veggie garden out the back, with a wide sweeping view down to a small lake of water, looking deep beneath a twilight blue summer sky…

Maria grew up from a little girl in this wonderland…

Sat morning I wakes to a freshly squeezed Orange juice, a big yellow mound of steaming scrambled eggs, toast, evenly spread with butter…Then a cup of brewed coffee…

But hey, this is the Jig, there is a gig, with drums to beat and time to keep, and I will fudge it if I can…

Now Bards has got this bag full of tunes that he’s written; well there’s some far out sounds in this lot I tell ya, he says it’s the sounds of The Empty Ballroom…Sounds good…

Ok so I’m bunked in Brendan’s room with an Arlie boxing poster on the wall, and a set up drum kit in the corner; now I’ve got both feet an two hands working, dealing with this big round drum sound; ya see Maria’s brother Brendan, he plays in an Irish rock band, that’s why the drums be there…

When we started to take what was goin down…Bards sitting there smiling, headphones on, with both hands manipulating the levels on the sliders of that little 16 track digital recorder…Some of this out there stuff went down easy, smooth and in the slot, but then there was this other one; the one I liked the most…The road to Min Min…

Anyhow, the space I was in was just a generation away…

So we didn’t fix it and left it for another day…Then one of Maria’s other brothers, Denise lobed, he’s here on the weekend to play Gaelic football for Donigal, then, cause he likes to surf, is off to Hawaii for a few weeks…

Maria’s got that big oil heating stove on the go, and as us three blokes watch England get taken out of the World Cup

Those smells that tantalize the taste buds and titillate the tapeworm, they tangle with my thinking… Chicken roast is cooking in the kitchen, with baked sweet potato, yea…    

We had another go at recording some takes, and nailed a bit more, then left what I couldn’t cut, till later, or otherwise somehow hopefully fix it in the mix…Sometime when… There at that weekend, on the TV, I watched France out Brazil Brazil; put them out of the cup, so it’s France and Italy, [who threw the three card trick an got the shot that put us out]… There gunna joust it out, an kick about, to put one out in the final…and now as I tap out on the keyboard, and try to type this rolling rave; in hindsight, I know what a close and controversial World cup final was played…And till the next World cup this one will be talked about over an over…But hey, here I go again jumping two steps, and a week ahead of myself…

At the weekends end we pack the little blue, lock up, strap up; Bards in the drivers seat as we roll along through this land of sweeping hills, and green fields, the setting sun behind us as we move toward the East, then zooming on the freeway that swangs us into the nighttime lights and the busy streets of Dublin city…

Bard knocks up a beaut and deliciously tasting Nachos, and then after we emptied the bottle of red, we sat around talking, till all was said, then slowly we all drifted off…    So there with my pillow tucked snugly beneath my head, under the doona, I slowly read, another Bukowski story…

It blew my mind, and then I switched off the light to slip into a deep and meaningfully land of Zed…

Now it is today, and this is the time I catch the bus for a solo trip to Dublin city. Winding, weaving through the close and narrow streets, high on the top deck, surveying the sights; those brightly painted colored doors, a window with the curtains open wide, all sorts of sights and sounds, down to the horns honking, there at the narrow curb that runs tightly by the buildings on the street… I hang on tight till I alight, and from the bus I step along the stony street, I wander on, and halfway over, somewhere close to the middle of that O’Connell Bridge, I snap the river Liffy…

So, I’m meandering through that flow of passing people, and on every face I see, is a shape I haven’t seen before… Then I spots a real right looking Colleen, dressed in all the shades of green, and on her face were a pair of emerald eyes that glowed…

I says ‘excuse I, I’m looking for the Yeats exabition’, she smiles, then hits me with a speal, ‘ It be the national library     you be looking for, that’s for sure’, ‘yea’ I says ‘an where do ya reckon that might be’, she flashed another beaut wide eyed smile, ‘you’ll be walking up this street, cross over, wander along, then take the first left’… So off I trundles, and there it is; I step up the stone stairs and wander in, to dig the display… Old ink pen, hand written raves, dated, faded and frayed black white ‘n’ gray photograph’s on the wall, the décor is set for that then olden time, and as I sit and watch the screen, listening to a far out, Lord Buckley type narration of some of Yeats’s wild and wonderful poems…I’m thinking to my self…Where ever you go, there you jolly well are…So dig it…               

 After that big head trip, I again step through the busy Dublin streets, like a dog sniffing its way along, going somewhere but not really knowing where, then hey, here I am, looking about, standing at the front of that big stone pillared entrance to the National Art Gallery, so in I goes to have a good look at them big old well framed paintings there a hanging on the walls…

Well, hey that was a long two hour walking and sight seeing stroll, and me both tired feet are sending a message to my brain, saying, ‘just find a place, sit down, let the buttocks take the load, roll a smoke, stay seated and sip on a nice brewed hot cup of coffee…So I did…

Ok so I sit sipping while watching the passing people on the street… It’s time to make a move, so I spots this good looking Irish Sheila, then I says, ‘excuse I, where would I catch the bus to Rathgar’, well, there and then I catch another sweet smile, ‘just over there, it’s the number 14 or 15 that’s the one you’ll be on’... I mount up and catch the bus drivers glare as I fumble for me fare, I sits meself down on the first empty seat, and as that big double Decker rumbles along, I’m watching out for that big gray steeple with a Celtic cross on top; there it is this is my stop, then from the bus I hit the street and brows the bottle shop, [called the Off License here in Ireland]…