Mo chroí, cronaím thú. Gráim thú.

Because we were ONCE... maybe ONCE we will be again, but different.
ONCE it happened. We changed, you did. Who will we be? Will WE ever be again?
Only life will tell. Now it seems only the channel is between, but there is so much more.
We were enough ONCE, we are not now. Life will tell if we will ever be.


Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova... ONCE

Part of me
Has Died
And won't return
And part of me
Wants to hide
The part that's burned

Once, once
Knew how to talk to you
Once, once
But not anymore

Hear the sirens call me home
Hear the sirens call me home
Hear the sirens call me home
Hear the sirens call me home

Part of me
Has vied
To watch it burn
And the heart of me
Has tried
But look what it's become

Once, once
I knew how to look for you
Once, once
But that was before
Once, once
I would have laid down to died for you
Once, once
But not anymore.

Hear the sirens call me home
Hear the sirens call me home
Hear the sirens call me home
Hear the sirens call me home

Did I miss something?

If there is something I missed about the continent while being in Ireland was all the cheap flying.

For some reason I remembered how cheap it was to fly within Europe each time I was taking the train to Galway. Having to pay more than 50 bucks to go and return from Galway to Dublin is something I totally considered a rip off. It wasn't even a nice train. In the winter one was freezing and if it was warmer then you'd be boiling.

So back in the continent, I start thinking of two possible destinations while my work situation gets sorted. So I pick, Barcelona and Budapest to start.

Last time I booked a flight to Budapest, in August I paid 35 Euro for a return ticket from Amsterdam. But I missed something since then... I don't know if it is the oil prices or what, but I wasn't able to find any ticket to Budapest from anywhere in Germany, Netherlands or Belgium for less than 150 bucks.

I'm scared. Being single I have a flying habbit I must be able to mantain.

Will it be Munich?

I just flew in from Munich. Met tons of interesting people at a networking event and had an interview for a job that seems to be almost custom made for me. Will it be? We shall see... It was simply so exciting to be back into a world so similar to the one I miss so much. Munich? Dublin... ay ay ay C'est la vie. Good things come to those that wait.

Of course I am loaded with a gazillion travel anecdotes, some of the Maria things that happen to me, like non of my cards being readable and surviving in Munich for three days and 20 bucks? Almost missing the plane twice? Petyo it already sounds like it.

Over and over

So Dublin...

I had heard about this movie from someone in Dublin when it won an Oscar. Someone else told me the story and on my last day in Galway I saw posters of the winners with the award and a big smile. They were in the cover of many magazines, and that day in Galway I entered a music store on the side of Shop St. The music was there and it made me want to see it.

It is brilliant, it is so Dublin, so Ireland... It makes me remember the non professional reason why I landed in that island. I miss Ireland still. I miss my reasons to be in Ireland a bit; but as life goes on, tomorrow I am off to Munich. Maybe there is the chance of a lifetime.

Watch Once, it's worth it.




See with Google videos.
http://video.google.com/videofile/Once.flv?docid=-5264548659686420841&itag=5

On blogging...

An interesting post from Francois Gossieaux in his Emergence Marketing.

Oh yes... blogging is a global marketing trend too. It allows all sorts of opinions to come out. It builds and breaks reputations and brands.

A blog though is normally a repository of personal experience, in most cases should be taken as that: A point of view. In my case not written to impress anyone but to keep in touch with friends everyone else is pretty much just a bypasser.

Did I have more than 30'000 reads in the past months? Yes. And other people have even more.

Now the point is... are blogs and profiles to be taken as something personal where one has the right to anything they like? Can someone take them as a part of your personal brand?

PS For you, you know who, read better next, at least the complete thing. Do your research before talking. Read the lyrics. It is a good song.

Blogging ethics

Yesterday Nate Ritter posted a comment on my story about Alaska Airlines - bringing up a good point about whether bloggers with a certain audience should refrain from lambasting companies with which they have had bad experiences.

Journalists have a clear code of ethics - as maintained by the Society of Professional Journalists. The code of ethics is built around the basic premise that journalists should “Seek Truth and Report It.” One section of the code says “Distinguish between advocacy and news reporting. Analysis and commentary should be labeled and not misrepresent fact or context.”

But isn’t that what a blog is by definition? This is not a news site. It is a stream of personal commentaries on marketing and sometimes personal experiences.

I am very aware of the power of the blog and its ability to harm in Google searches and the like - and that makes me pause when I have a bad experience with a company. But when the experience goes as far as costing someone $900 out of their own pocket, and when the experience is representative of a whole industry-segment’s trend of disintegrating customer service - does that not give an individual the right to use his or her personal journal to retell the story?

Could I actually miss Irish men?

I spent my last week in Ireland swearing of Irish men. Why? Well... with decent enough experience and of course in danger of doing a terrible generalization, I think Irish men tend to vanish. What!?

Maybe it is more than Irish men, but having been in several countries, this is the first time that such a thing happens to me and girls around so damn often.

Well... My boyfriend for 8 months did it, suddenly disappeared... the one for a month, same action... the one for few weeks, same action... and even the one that was only there for a few days. I met them all in different places, they are not related at all to eachother, they don't have the same jobs (sctors, barmen, investment bankers, IT men, musicians, marketers, designers...). Nothing else in common but being Irish... from Dublin, Roscommon, Galway, Cork... all the same.

I learned it fast: If an Irish guy says he will call on x day, and he doesn't, start thinking of the replacement... wait about a week and you have a definite answer, chances are that within the week he will call and act like nothing is wrong, but this is unlikely. It is totally irrelevant if you just met in a pub last week or of you are together for several months and have met his family, friends and you are already dreaming of a house with him. It seems you simply don't have the right to know what is going on unless you figure it out yourself. Yes, it was all brilliant, and suddenly it is like someone turns the switch and everything goes to hell. So it is better to immediately forget the human being in question, give it as little importance as possible, do not wonder (no matter what has to be done to achieve this one) and move on as soon as possible.

To my experience with Irish men, they are experienced practicioners of emotional terrorism, so once they are bored, found someone else, or whatever, they treat you like crap so you have to do the dirty work instead of facing the music to their actions; and for what I spoke with other Irish women, this is a general practice (!) which has taken many of them to do the triology practice often (or NY dating style which is not my style but seems to work fine for many), and according to other Irish men:

a)They accept it, and they have done it several times.
b)They tell me I am picking the wrong ones (these always ended up wanting to have something with me)

Some people reading might see my point and some others may not, but in any case, I learnt well in Ireland that I want a guy who has the balls to dump me properly and with a legitimate reason rather than vanishing, or telling lies when I break up with him for which I will find out the truth anyways. Things like "I don't feel anything anymore", "I am bored", "I met someone else", "I am back with my ex", "Actually, I have a girlfriend" amongs others, are legitimate reasons. Some more painful than others, but I would 100% prefer to hear any of these if they are truth rather than "We want different things in life but I swear I have never been with anyone else, I mean actually I am not even sure I am doing the right thing not being with you because you are so amazing". Even if you decide to belive it, it won't take too long to meet some girl randomly in town that works in the same place as he does and tells you he knows him, he has been chasing her for a while, she doen't like him but she shares the story that he swore he had broken up with his girlfriend (you) for her. Oh yes! Ireland is that small of an island! She shares the feeling with you that he is a terrible terrible man. Awesome, you actually knew it. At that point it doesn't matter anymore either.

So well... with such stories... could I be blamed to decide to take Irish men for friends for the rest of my life? They are great friends and terrible boyfriends to my experience so... And I guess it is not about being Irish (probably it happens every where), andit is not aout being a man either (girls also disappear or nevers answer back)... but anyways... the point in all this is why I suddenly miss them, Irish men.

I am landing in Belgium... as soon as I land I notice everything is again in Dutch... it seems that the 9 months in Dublin never happened... I am carrying a huge back pack and my purse. I get to the belt, and I load the whole 100Kg of my suitcases in a trolley all 3 huge bags of them (I was still so wasted from the last night in Dublin that I forgot one of them so I had to go ack to Brussels to pick up 20Kgs of clothes). I got them in the train, I got them off to change trains in Brussels midi. I could barely move. It took me 20 minutes to move 40 meters with all my stuff. Being in the main hall I was unable to move anymore... I am 48Kgs heavy and was dragging close to 100Kgs. I considering asking for help. No one even looks at me. I see the security men... they see me, as I am about to speak, they walk faster. I see some station personnel, and I ask for help. They cannot help me because that is not their job but they point me to the luggage area 30 meters ahead. "This would have never happened in Ireland!" I thought to myself realizing if one person dragged one of the trolley bags with me I could make it. I kicked the trolley to the luggage area, where another man looked at me funny, and after saying... I only need to get to platform three, he said he would try to find someone. So he did. A man appeared with a trolley, took my bags, dumped them on the platform and charged me 5 euro. In ICE I arrive to Germany. I am getting off and the driver closes the train doors. It gets into a battle in which I use my XXL bag which is almost my size in the middle of the door, so there is no way he can close while I can get my bags off the train. He didn't care I was screaming "Meine Taschen sind immer noch drin! Moment mal!". And as I achieved this, I repeated the brave action of getting a ca with all bystanders watching. Of course I loaded the cab on my own while the cabbie watched.

So it hit me. My last boyfriend was so nice to me before he turned into a pumpkin (turning into a pumpkin is the term Haley and I coined to determine the moment when an Irish man transforms from prince charming into a total bastard without any notice) that he wouldn't let me carry my own sandwish to the table. How many times in Dublin the cabbie helped me with my groceries, my luggage... How many times a man gave up his seat for me in a pub. How many times was I not told I am beautiful? How many times did I not make friends randomly in a pub? It hit me... I left all that behind in Ireland.

So I got home... it was Sunday and everything was closed. I missed Ireland yet a bit more. I went to an empty pub, so I didnt feel like drinking. Monday... same thing. I remembered here people only go out in the weekends. This was not a pub, it is a Kneipe. And in the city I didn't find anyone as cute or charming as any of my Irish boys. Damn...

And I missed him just for a fraction of a second. And I did what by all means I avoided the last three months: I wondered: What went wrong? Everything is so different again. Life starts on a new page again, and his name is not going to come anymore when I thought he'd be there until "The End".

Oh yes.... moving on. New blog design coming up for a new time in life.