Done Already?

And so several hundred nails, shingles, 2X4s and gallons of paint later it's all over. The Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter Work Project ended this afternoon amid lightning and thunderous downpours, photoshoots and hugs.

As I sit at the make-shift internet centre in the foyer of the hotel I'm watching the volunteers slowly drift into the dining room for their dinner. Hard hats, toolbelts, sunburn and limps abound. I met Americans from so many different states I've lost count....

There was Dallas, from Phoenix; Cleveland - he was from Detroit; and Tex... well, I don't remember where Tex come from.

They came from all over; some just for the week squeezing the time out of their ridiculously short holidays; some have been here for months/years already, so moved by the events of Katrina they had to come help. Most strongly in evidence are the Americorps volunteers comprising young people who take a year out between high school and university to serve society. We've also met quite a few retired couples that are living out of RVs in a constant state of volunteering - one couple are driving from state to state building Habitat homes where ever they go. They aim to hit every state with the possible exception of Hawaii - fair enough.

The local Habitat organisation on the Gulf Coast was formed by two separate affiliates joining together in the wake of Katrina and Rita. They estimate that almost 7,000 people have volunteered with them since 2005 and their constant message is 'Don't forget about us'. This area is nowhere near recovered from the hurricanes (almost 3 years on). While they've built over 1300 homes so far thousands more are needed. Over 200,000 people are still displaced from New Orleans alone and in towns like Biloxi and Pascagoula certain neighborhoods were entirely decimated.

One lady tried to describe the impact--not only do you lose everything you own, including your job in many cases, but so do all your family and friends. How do you recover from that?

Kenya Wilson and her two girls have been living in a damp, stinking 2 bedroom apartment that was flooded by the hurricane. Hers was the house I helped build this week- a three bedroom house built 5 feet off the ground with a perfectly shingled roof (well the bits I did :). It isn't finished but it will be soon and, while it would have been built whether or not I had come on this trip, I'm glad some of my sweat and tears went into the building of it.
Here's the build in stages:




I really didn't think I'd enjoy the building aspect of the build as much as I did - but boy is it satisfying to swing a hammer! Most of the skills I picked up will be utterly obsolete in Ireland as building is completely different at home - even the terminology is completey different--who in Ireland is going to know what sheetrock, siding or penny nails are?

Thus ends my first Habitat for Humanity build-- every single American I know in Ireland has done one-- do I get my passport now?!

Tomorrow I hit New Orleans for some well-earned R&R - beignets and Bourbon street call.

Laissez les bons temps roulez...

The Building Bug

Day Two of the build stumbles to a close here in the land of opportunity. Adorning my tired body are blisters, bruises and, despite the factor 50, an attractive builder's tan (like a farmer's tan only with boots and shorts' marks also). It's a good kind of tired though--sleeping like a dead baby at the mo (that's a good thing).

How are things in Eye-r-land?

You're from Eye-r-land? Eye-r-land?! My you've come a long way....

So it turns out we're basically the only non-Americans on this build. When they ask you where you're from they expect to hear state, not tiny European island far, far away. We have immense novelty value to random strangers...so far it's been a good thing but may become wearing as week goes on.

I'm volunteering on house no 19 along with the Northern Ireland team, a crowd of employees from Delta and a few other randomers. The Northern Ireland crew are great craic- a bizarre mix including a former minister, an Tyrone GAA fanatic and an English teacher (they're always cool) who's pulling a sickie for the entire week. They're permanently in good spirits and are trojan workers on the site ().

Delta have 60 employees in total participating in the Jimmy Carter Build. They're a major sponsor of Habitat for Humanity so lots of the staff have been on loads of other builds before. The fact that they're airline employees does come through from time to time though. Georgia sees that everyone has the correct type of nails: Would you like an 8d or 16d honey? Malcolm sees that everyone has enough to drink at all times....

It's been really hectic on the site since Monday morning. The foundations were all done before we arrived and so far we've put up all the walls, most of the roof, done the insulation and put up 5 million 'hurricane proof' bracket thingies. The brackets are bolted on between the foundation and the walls every 6 inches around the house and 14 nails go in to each one. I've become pretty nifty with a hammer quite quickly.

I'd forgotten how satisfying physical work can be--seeing a problem, coming up with a solution and physically putting it into place yourself. Along the front and back of the house the nails had to go through a metal plate for one half of the brackets. They had to be hammered about an inch from the ground so it was tricky to find an angle that worked. Eventually I figured out that the only way to get a good swing at it was to stand up and hammer it between your legs. it looked awkward but it worked and soon everyone was copying me.


Today we were up on the roof hammering down board type things. Fortunately it was overcast most of the time so we weren't cooked as much as we might have been. The only annoyance was the proliferation of insects attacking us from all sides. The most common one being the 'love bug'.

Early on we noticed this insect which travels exclusive in pairs....copulating pairs. Kenya, the future homeowner of the house we're building, giggling told us that they called them 'love bugs'. Well I had to look them up--check out the link to the wikipedia article here: Love bug. Let's just say the love bug lives a short but blissful life ;)

In the late-afternoon we had a surprise visit from another volunteer on the build....former President Jimmy Carter. He strolled up (followed by 5 black cars and lots of guys talking into ear pieces) to say hello and check on our progress. He jibed with the builders, hugged the homeowner and left us all with a warm glow inside... He's got the Bill Clinton charisma added to a grandad hugability.

Both Barack and Hillary need to work on their hugability--McCain has it in spades and these middle American types like it....everyone here hates Bush (Democrats and Republicans alike) but quite a few like McCain...be warned!

Anywho that's enough for me to have earned my dinner--casino hotel buffet here I come...

Foxy Biloxi

No time so point format post I'm afraid:

* I survived the 20 hour journey through the airports of middle America to get to Biloxi, Mississippi late last night (well it was 11pm USA time but 5am Irish time--big yawn).

* We're staying in a Casino Hotel that's ridiculously comfortable and air-conditioned and it all feels a bit odd so far. The people running the build are super nice and friendly though....there must be a catch....

*The catch is our builds start at 530am every morning this week. Apparently on tomorrow's agenda is putting up the walls and roof of our house (in Pascagoula, MS)....just the walls and roof so.

*It's pretty smokin hot outside but I haven't been out in it for more than 5 minutes yet--apparently it hit 90 F sometime last week....I don't know quite what that means but they seemed to imply that was hot.

* I'll be spending most of the week hanging out with the Northern Ireland team and thus am being exposed to both Northern and Southern accents at the same time...expect me to sound funny when I get home. "Aye, how y'all doin'?"

* Lemonade and cookie social in hotel function room happening shortly.....definitely not in Kansas anymore.

More later in the week.

Swing News

The swing community are 'a buzz' with the success of a short film featuring their talents that was on RTE last week.

Swing Talking

Swing Talking is directed by Anna Rodgers, and produced by Siobhan Ward, both amateur Swing dancers, and choreographed by Lucy E. Dunne. Aside from the Irish dancers on screen, much of the crew were made up of Swing dancers from Dublin. With just a week to prepare for the shoot, everyone teamed up, and helped create this short passionate jazz whirlwind, which also works as a metaphor for love and relationships.

If you swing dance in Dublin you will recognise most of the faces in this film. It features performances from Lucy Dunne (who flew in from Boston), Vincenzo Fesi (who flew in from Italy), and Avril Ní Chonaire (who bused it from Galway!), as well as Anita Walsh, Jonathon Gordon, Karl Kyck, Nicola Reville, Ciaran Houlihan, Johanna Foster, Siobhan Ward, Rose Cherry, Cahal Flynn, Daniel O'Neill, Libby Molony and Donal O'Kane. Maria Tecce, the Jazz singer and DJ does the voice over.

Swing dancing is a conversation between two people – not a choreography, and some might say, it’s a metaphor for interpersonal intimate relationships. The right balance of connection and tension is the key. You have to start off slow, and get to know each other. Then it can take off if you have the right connection. You have to communicate and listen to each other, or else the dance gets a little crazy, with both of you fighting to do your own thing. You might want to switch partners, or dance with two people at the same time. And in the end, you have a final dip, and then part. But sometimes, if it’s really good or you want to try again, you stick around for the next song.

This playful, familiar, and somewhat subversive form of dance is accessible to everyone – watching it makes you smile and want to get up and move to the music which we’ve all been listening to since we were born. The set in which our dancers perform is almost bare, yet in lit corners are symbolic props and indicators of the past – an old gramaphone, a saxaphone on a chair, a double bass. Projections of old swing movie archive flicker on the wall as they do in people’s unconscious memory. This is a dance with serious history. We’re all familiar with Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but this dance really came from groups of black dancers in segregated ballrooms in Harlem.

With stunning dance scenes, dramatic lighting, and a dream like narrative on love and dance, this film captures the beauty of Swing in a breathtaking 5 minute Jazz whirlwind.

The link is here:
Swing Talking

Shine On Oh Ball of Flame

"Oh I'm so hot"
"It's boiling out there"
"I'm roasting..."
"I'm melting....I'm melting"(Wicked Witch tone of lamentation)

Yes ladies and gentlemen for the first time in (it feels like) years the sun is shining in Ireland. The ground is dry, the air is dry, one's skin feels a pleasant sensation when exposed and the sky is a curious blue colour.

Could it be?

Is this...?

Is this summer? (wonderous tone of awe and amazement)

After a wonderful May Bank Holiday weekend (Lainey Fest) spent in Courtmacsherry, West Cork, involving kayaking, forest exploration, games, drinks and 'Gay Icon' Night (TM), I'm more in love with my country than ever. A sea of bluebells and wild garlic in the woods, the waves crashing on the rocks at Dunworley beach and wonderful friends with which to share it.

To quote Kurt Vonnegut:

"If this ain't nice, I don't know what is".

New Orleans - Land of Dreams

Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me

Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In",
And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there

(Tom Waits-I Wish I Was in New Orleans)

I'm heading to New Orleans in less than a month and I'm getting pretty hysterically excited about it to be honest. It's a place I've always wanted to visit (other American cities on my list include San Francisco and Chicago); the history, the music (it's the birthplace of jazz for crying out loud!); the food, steam-boats and street-cars, the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. As I look at my Lonely Planet the familiar street names echo in the chambers of my musical memory: Bourbon St, Burgundy....Basin St....

Basin Street is the street
where the best folks always meet
in New Orleans, land of dreams
you'll never know how nice it seems,
or just how much it really means.

(Ella Fitzgerald 'Basin St Blues')

Obviously, post Katrina, New Orleans is not the town it used to be. Since I'm participating in a build in Mississippi (Biloxi or Pascagoula) I've been reading up about it and am blown away how such an appalling tragedy could happen in what is ostensibly the 'richest country in the world'. No, not the hurricane, but the way it was handled: the pathetic preparation, poor maintenance of the levees and the hopelessly inadequate response from FEMA (the Federal Emergency Management Agency) and the US government.

The storm was first spotted over the Bahamas on 23rd August 2005. Over the course of the week it was upgraded from Category One to Category Five killing 7 people in Florida when it made landfall. Mayor Ray Nagin ordered an unprecedented mandatory evacuation of the city on the morning of Sunday 28th August. It was a better-than-average evacuation considering how many people normally choose to 'ride out the storm'. Of the 20% of the population who chose to stay in the city, however, many were poor, elderly, disabled or simply didn't have a car with which to leave.

Baby, please dont go
Oh, baby please dont go
Baby, please dont go
Down to New Orleans
You know I love you so
Baby, please dont go.

(Van Morrison/Them - Baby Please Don't Go)

On the Sunday night the storm weakened and moved slightly away from the city and, while it was still immensely destructive, people thought they had escaped the worst. By the following morning, however, floodwalls failed in various locations including the Lower Ninth Ward and water started flowing into the city at a fast pace. In total 80% of the city was flooded, bringing toxic swamp-like conditions to the town.

And then the chaos really started....

Looting and rioting engulfed the city as people faced dehydration and starvation without visible signs of help being on its way. Rescue efforts were hampered by rumour and miscommunication and the true extent of the catastrophe took several days to sink in with the Bush Administration. George W. visited the city 5 days after the hurricane and at that point 28,000 national guard troops finally arrived to put order on the city. Too late for the 1,500 citizens who had died (Katrina's total death toll was 1,836) and too late to prevent Bush suffering an 8 point drop in approval ratings in less than a week - people aren't stupid.

Good morning America, how are you?
Say don't you know me, I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done.

(Willie Nelson-City of New Orleans)

Since 2005 New Orleans has been slowly crawling back to life. It's now back up to about 60% of its pre-Katrina population and much of the CBD and tourist districts have sprung back to life. Whole swathes of the town (including the 9th Ward), however, remain unreconstructed and many of its former residents doubt they'll ever return. The full consequences of Katrina for the town remain to be seen.

I won't have a pre-Katrina image with which to compare what I see when I'm there. I do intend, however, to do a 'Katrina tour' which takes people round the 9th Ward to see the devastation first hand and to talk to as many people as possible about their experiences in 2005. Ireland doesn't have hurricanes, tornadoes or cyclones so the idea of losing everything in one night is pretty hard for me to grasp.

I'm pretty sure my trip to'the Big Easy' will not be easily forgotten.

Happiness is...

Yesterday, the 6th day of April in the year of our Lord 2008, the day of the Connemarathon dawned bright and cold over Galway. We looked out the window to see frost, hail showers and also scorching sunshine. Typical start of April weather; the rí mhógs as my mother calls it.

The 3,500 strong crowd gathered at the start line in Leenane, taking in the majesty of Killary Harbour in the shadow of Mweelrea. We reluctantly stripped off jackets, hats and scarves and huddled together for warmth before the race began at high noon. 50 yards down the road a local leaning on his gate shouts support - 'Nearly there!' We guffaw at the hilarity of it but deep inside I know it's not funny.

Before we reach the first mile marker the sun appears and suddenly we're running in a tropical paradise. By mile 2 we're positively scorching and discarded jackets and hats start to litter the ditches on either side of the road. Blue skies, the sun on our faces, babbling brooks and waving heather; the first 8 miles were really quite pleasant.

After that....well no amount of pleasant landscape could disguise our legs' dissatisfaction at having to tackle hill after hill after hill. Burning pain took us over Failmore river and blinding agony up the long slow incline of the 'Hell of the West'. Every so often you could get some water at the side of the road or overhear a conversation between two runners but mostly it was just you and the road, each as stubborn as the other.

And then, suddenly, the end was in sight - crowds of people lined the thirteenth mile and wells of energy sprang forth to keep us going. At 2 hours 10 minutes on the clock I crossed the finish line.

Never was I more happy to see Maam Cross in all my life... Medals and hugs, the most delicious food and refreshing drinks followed - happiness it turns out is as simple as not having to run anymore ;)

Currently I'm suffering stiffness and pain in pretty much every muscle in my body from my hamstrings, quads and calf muscles (expected) to my back, shoulders and even the intercostal muscles between my ribs (unexplained). I'm moving with all the grace of an arthritic 90 year old.

Apparently John Treacy's four principles of training prior to the 84 Olympics were "Believe in yourself, know yourself, deny yourself, and be humble." So I will be humble and say that I'm no athlete. I also know myself, however, and if I choose to do a full marathon in the next few years I will do it. I just need to decide to do it.

That's the hard part.