Rowan Tree and Red Thread

We'll be off home shortly, bundling the kids into their pyjamas and into the car in an experiment of auto-induced slumber. (Pardon the pun.)

Here's hoping we reach Cork and home with two entirely unconscious kids and not two wakeful and cranky ones.

We're on the road again, making good time for Dublin, our destination for a few days family time over Christmas with my mother, brother and sister in law.

My wife organised our bug out this morning and managed admirably to squeeze four people and a mountain of stuff into our little car.

So I hope you all have a good holiday and best wishes to everyone for 2008. Maybe I'll get my aircar this year.

What follows are assorted notes I jotted down while we were at Worldcon, prettied up a little. I've missed some panels out that I enjoyed but don't have very clear memories of, but it's long enough as it is.

We arrived after a hard flight. It was a little Saab twin-prop job that hopped around the sky, tossed about by turbulence. I hated it. Once we were on the ground I regained my composure, but I was terrified while we were in the air.

We got to the hotel around 3.30 or 4.00. We didn't do much that afternoon and then wandered down to the conference centre to register. The dealers' room wasn't open at that stage. Afterwards we went back up towards Sauchiehall Street and ate dinner in the Argan café, a Moroccan and Mediterranean restaurant. It was delicious but marred by the very slow delivery. I know that I ate tapas-style and Sam had the more regular starter and main course, but her main course arrived about 45 minutes after I'd had my last dish. Crap.

Thursday was getting into the swing of the con, learning our way around the venues and hitting the first of the panels. ( Thursday )

Friday was a panel marathon, but we also caught up with old friends. Whisky was consumed. ( Friday )

Saturday the panel marathon continued and I began to think I'd have to write a novel just to empty my head of the hundreds of ideas that were cluttering it up after this intense SF dose. ( Saturday )

( Charlie Stross's kaffeklatsch )

( Game design: playability vs. realism and Tall Technical Tales )

( Anonymous Claire )

By Sunday my note taking was more comprehensive. Yet more panels and some incredible Indian food.

( AIs: the aliens we make )

( Forgotten children's books )

( Genre-killing ideas )

Sunday lunch at the Mother India Cafe on Argyle Street. Simply brilliant Indian food. We ate way too much, including chilli king prawns, chicken achari, lamb pasandi, curried smoked haddock, some aloo thingy in a pancake, plus nan, paratha and raitha. What an excellent meal with great combinations of flavours. I'll definitely go back there the next time I'm in Glasgow. The only drawback was the bloated stomach and burping I had for the rest of the afternoon having overeaten at lunch. Eyes bigger than stomach, I'm afraid.

( Jack Cohen's kaffeklatsch )

( The rest of Sunday )

( Scarpering home )

Apologies to anyone I met and forgot to mention, or any panellist who I didn't include. I'll plead ignorance and exhaustion in roughly equal measure. I'd like to thank the organisers of Interaction publicly. It was a fabulous con, and I really enjoyed it. SECC security might have been a pain, but the quality of the panels and the general mood of fannish good nature were splendid.

I have been away. I am now back. Dublin remains a strange place to me. I spent a long time living there before moving to Paris in the mid-90s and I haven't lived there since. In that time the city has somehow become a stranger to me, so much so that I no longer can really imagine living there. It's great to visit, however, as many of my friends are there, my mother and brother are there, and sushi is available for purchase, unlike Cork, where sushi can only be obtained by making cow-eyes at my wife and hoping she can read the raw fish longing there.

I have so many friends' posts to catch up on it's not funny.

Later on Sunday we were taken to visit a reindeer farm. ( Outside Saariselkä for a trip )
An excellent day.

Sunday morning I was on first with Rowan, and she had apple juice and cardamom cake for breakfast, with a side order of sliced cucumber. That's an odd breakfast but what she wanted. I wonder if I was as eclectic as a toddler.

( A quiet day and a late pope. )

I wrote this on the morning after my brother's wedding.

( Eoin and Noora's wedding. )

We were sharing the apartment Noora's father, Ilpo, and his second wife, Aila. Ilpo and Rowan got on famously. He's a primary school teacher and seemed at ease with her, as well as being absolutely delighted with the attention she lavished on him. She in turn was happy to have someone new to perform for. Today she's also invented a new train game, standing at the end of a long rug and getting me (or someone else) to stand behind her, hands on her hips. She then makes her train noise and we shuffle off together, engine and carriage, as a little train to do the circuit of the rug. If there was someone else to hand they'd have to join in too, adding carriages at the back. Choo-choo!

Sally also revived an old game that Eoin played with Lily, Tim's aunt, years ago. Pulling at the elastic at the back of Rowan's trousers you say "I'll start you off!" and release the elastic with a gentle snap. Rowan then speeds away like she's been shot from a sling. Brilliant!

In Saariselkä at last. We were up at 7.30 this morning, Rowan and Sam greeting me with equally zombified expressions of horror and disbelief. Another fun Finnish breakfast of healthy Nordic cheese and salami were met with green looks from Sam, who takes longer than I do feel equal to food in the mornings. After that it was all in the taxi to the airport for more waiting around.

The internal flight from Helsinki to Ivalo far in the north of Finland went well, with a nice colouring book and pencils for Rowan, as well as an inflatable Finnair aeroplane that was probably for Rowan but rather appealed to me. Rowan cooperated well for the most part except for tossing bits of a Playmobil toy around. My mother had bought this new toy in the airport and I think it was probably ill-advised, given the number of small pieces it contained. Nonetheless we managed to disembark with all the bits, much to my amazement. Once in Ivalo we were on the bus and on our way to Saariselkä in short order, and arrived at the rendezvous by the Hotelli Riekonlinna less than an hour after we landed in Ivalo. On the way I watched the armies of firs and snow parade past the windows but missed the reindeer that Sam and Sally spotted out of the other side of the bus. Even this far north the terrain was flat so as we climbed to one of the few high points on the road we broke out of the conifer forest into a broad snow field, peppered here and there with brave, stunted trees. So. much. white.

Rowan managed to sleep on the bus. Or rather, she slept on me, on the bus. She was a bit disorientated when we got to Saariselkä but perked up when we met Eoin and Noora the happy couple soon to be married. We chatted and got lunch in the hotel buffet, stuffing our faces as we talked. After that we headed up to the apartment by taxi. Saariselkä is clearly a resort town, with lots of hotels, apartments and ski-equipment shops providing for the visitors. I was again amazed by the amount of snow and the ease with which the driver negotiated the icy roads. I'm sure that if the North Atlantic conveyor breaks down and the Gulf Stream shifts, Ireland will not be able to adapt to the wintry conditions with anything like that skill.

The apartment lived up to our expectations and more. It was toasty warm, all exposed pine and equipped with a sauna that even an Irish idiot could operate without burning down the whole building. Eoin and Noora had thoughtfully provided some lunchables too, so we were sorted for a light dinner after the face-stuffing incident of lunch time.

After much unpacking from the the awfully well-organised Sam, we donned our outdoor gear and threw ourselves in the snow. Rowan took her first snowball fight in her stride with a ready grin and laughed and laughed and laughed. Much rolling in the snow, desultory snowman building, and snowsliding later we staggered inside to discover all the nooks snow can get into once it begins to melt. Chilly, but broad grins all round.

Later we had our first sauna of many. Yummy! All the sweat washed off under a powerful shower and sipping a Finnish bear (Lapin Kulta I think) proves to be perfection of a sort. From that first bead of sweat spring forth and rolling down ticklishly over my skin to that last blast of heat to the head as I stood up into the roasting upper regions of the sauna, it was all good.

Back to the hotel after Helsinki touring most of the day. Noteworthy things:

• Rowan dancing and swimming to the Blue Danube in an exhibit of Hungarian pre-war history at the Khiasma Museum.


• Ice in the harbour masquerading as choppy waves, and suddenly resolving into frozen peaks as my brain realised I was looking at a frozen sea.


• The crazed patterns in the ice disappearing under the ferry we took out the the island in the bay, accompanied by a grinding sound you don't much like to hear when in a boat.


• Attractive art deco (probably later in fact) frontages on the buildings. Helsinki is a beautiful town if you look up from street level away from the advertising and shop fronts.


• A satisfyingly Nordic breakfast of cold meats, cheese and rye bread. Good enough for seconds, in fact.

Sally (my mother) got a separate room after the first night as she found the third bed in our room very uncomfortable. It was essentially just a couch pressed into service as a bed and not really up to the job. She slept better the second night.

It's been a long, long day. We made it to Helsinki after a morning start at 5.15, woken by the BBC World Service. It was so early even Radio 4 was asleep. Rowan was not impressed by the early start and clung to me like a drowning man to a log, if one can drown and sleepwalk at the same time. By the time the taxi arrived we were all up and moving but hardly what you'd call raring to go. I did manage to avoid a hernia on the stairs with the bags. Rowan weighs about 1/8th of what I do, but her stuff must have outweighed mine by nearly two to one.

At the airport we have no problems checking in and Rowan enjoyed the wide range of entertainments Cork airport provided, mostly the overpriced buns in the café and the spectacle of her dad wrestling off his steel-toed boots for the security checkpoint. (Note to self: Leave steel-toed boots behind next time, dummy.) Once on the aircraft things went fine, even though Aer Lingus has now stooped to charging for all in-flight stuff including orange juice. While our flight was booked with KLM, the leg to Amsterdam from Cork was with Aer Lingus and I'd like to know if I paid over the odds for that leg by booking through eBookers. I think we could have got a pretty cheap flight from Cork to Amsterdam normally.

Schipol provided more entertainment for Rowan. Moving walkways are the best thing ever if you're only 1m tall and hopped up on sugar. We whiled away the hours running about the airport, stopping for sushi (!) and examining the packets of M&Ms for sale in every shop. Some last minute Jameson whiskey helped keep the parents sane (just buying it was soothing; we didn't actually drink any). The whiskey was to provide the essential ingredient to future Finnish hot chocolate fantasies.

Back on the aeroplane, late of course due to various delays, we were off to Helsinki. This flight was okay, but it was more cramped than the first. (Note to self: steel-toed boots are too tight to wear for comfort on 2 1/2 hour flights.)

Some impressions of Helsinki then. The Cold War architecture mixes nicely with various 19th Century buildings; funny words are everywhere and indo-european languages are useless as any sort of guide to meanings; the gritted streets and piles of dirty snow and ice are reminders of Chicago; two out of two bus Helsinki drivers are surly and unhelpful; the long, broad streets reminded me of Paris; the Museum of Culture is disguised as a car show room, but in fact uses an old Philips warehouse adapted to serve as a museum; the street names are on little plaques at the street corners and are small enough to make me wonder if the Finns are ashamed of their street names.

We took dinner in the hotel restaurant, and I ate a lovely dish of smoked lamb with a rich mushroom sauce and stock-cooked potatoes (described as root vegetables on the menu). Very nice and filling. Then to bed to sleep and prepare for a day's sightseeing round Helsinki.

We're off to Finland tomorrow starting sometime before consciousness round 5 am. An epic journey of many flights, airports and sundry delights awaits us, most of which will be accompanied by airline food. Pray for us if that's your sort of thing, or wire up your infinite improbability drives to a really hot cup of tea by preference. I know it's unlikely I'll see one of those for a while.

Back to Cork after a few days visiting family and friends in Dublin, the bustling heart of the Celtic Tiger. I felt it was a very successful trip, with a chance to eat out a couple of times, hang out with my mother, brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law, and hook up for lunch twice with old friends I've been blogging with recently but haven't really had much time face to face with in years. I also managed to get some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (a weakness of mine) and several new books (a weakness of my whole bloodline).

Rowan was the star of the trip. She handled the train journey up to Dublin well and without any real complaint, was sweetness itself with the relatives and didn't pull the cats' tails. I was particularly happy to see her so comfortable and amused by my brother. Rowan doesn't always take well to new men and she's been a bit cautious of my brother in the past. This time, however, she was in there giggling and headbutting him, chasing him around the house and generally being entertained by his antics as she entertained him with her own. They were perfectly happy with one another and I was delighted.

Queenie made a lunch date in the Writers' Musuem very pleasant. I hadn't seen Queenie in a very long time, and it was great to catch up again in person. I was somewhat startled by her long hair, as my college memories had her in a perpetual close-cut, and also pleasantly surprised by her instant rapport with Rowan. With a moment's reflection it's obvious that she'd be perfect as a disreputable auntie with all the dirt on parents she knew in college. We sat in the Garden of Remembrance, comfortably sharing memories and plans. Once in a while, all the time passing doesn't mean much.

Meeting up with leedy added to her recent whirl of LJ related outings. We hardly count as LJ-friends as there's a long history stretching back through our college days, but living in Cork makes LJ important for keeping in touch so I'll give her two points for sammywol and me. We met in the Alliance Francaise, where I indulged in a brie sandwich despite the best advice of my urologist. I suppose he doesn't want to see me back in with another kidney stone anytime soon, but I can't resist proper brie. We chatted and munched our way through lunch, and it appears that we'll have another chance to meet leedy later in the month when her band performs in the cultural capital. Isn't that always the way? No Dublin friends for ages and then two come along (practically) at once.

Our Dublin trip also afforded us with our first trip on the Luas. Dublin's new tram system turns out to work very nicely, surprisingly. I had moments of confusion gliding smoothly along familiar streets that felt newly strange to me. It was a curious mixture of a Parisian feeling with a Dublin setting. I am not at all used to efficient public transport in Dublin.

I'd better wrap up now. My daughter Rowan has emerged from her nap and will doubtless want computer time at the CBeebies website.