James Galvin

I’m in Kuala Lumpur International Airport - named as the best airport in the world in its class. Free wi-fi, lots of shops, reclined seating, loads of space, so clean you could eat off the floor… it is definitely the best airport I’ve ever been in. Although… once upon a time there was a cosy little airport with fish tanks, video games, and old heroes who blissfully indulged their sporting passions in a relaxed atmosphere where everybody knows your name. That was a long time ago, all that remains of this magical place is the effigy of a lonely hurler, dumped on the side of the road like a lump of metal. Where once there dwelt kind old men who sometimes glanced at passports, now there are big wild-eyed security guys who shout at you if you make the metal detector beep. I would mourn its loss, but I’m too tired at the moment and I have a 14 hour flight ahead of me.

I got back from Transylvania last night. What struck me most about Eastern Europe was the absolutely dire music. This first became apparent when I boarded the Malev plane in Budapest accompanied by a pan-pipes version of “I’m a Big Big Girl in a Big Big World”. Made even more evident by a series of bodyblows in the taxi home, namely a pair of obscure George Michael songs and Peter Andre’s Mysterious Girl, and er… Christy Hennessey. Believe it or not, it went downhill from there - mostly Eurovision rejects and extremely dodgy white rappers. I was amazed that it took two days before I heard Dragostea din Tei (Numa Numa), Romanian pop music’s only worldwide hit (surprisingly not played on loop ala Spain’s “Macarena”) and contender for gayest song since YMCA. Funnily enough one of the lads in the conference from Moldova had gone to school with the lead singer, and said that he was a death-metaler before he tried his hand at eurodancepop with O-Zone.

When I turned on the TV, I was greeted by Sean McGinley’s (whats new) - in a film which I had never heard of, called The Informant, about Northern Ireland. It was absolutely diabolical, and I nearly resorted to watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch auf Deutsch. The quality of the viewing ranged from Howard the Duck (after I mentioned it just last week!) to National Lampoon’s European Adventure (twice).

Timisoara itself was amazing - really nice parks everywhere, cathedrals, awesome old buildings and squares. The city has a rich history - influenced by the Romans, the Turks, and the Hungarians (it was once the capital of Hungary). It seems to be the Cork of Romania - the country’s third biggest city, with a population of around 300,000. It is clearly the Rebel city, having started the 1989 rebellion against Ceaucescu which ended communisim in the country. The major difference is that there are far more gypsies begging in Cork City than you would find in Timisoara.

The spoken language is difficult to understand, but written its not too bad because of the Latin roots. While most people didn’t speak English, I would rattle off the keywords in English, French, German, and Pidgin Spanish and usually one of them would to get the point across. The money, on the other hand, was a nightmare. There are two valid currencies this year - the old leu (ROL) and the new leu (RON). The old Leu was worth 10,000 times less than the new leu, which made things very difficult when I was paying with a mixture of both currencies, and thinking in terms of Euro. I have no idea how often I got ripped off, but I just reminded myself that I get ripped off much more at my local Centra in Ireland every day.

I envied the men in the park who spent their sunny afternoons playing chess or poker or backgammon at the tables provided. Why don’t we have this in Ireland - where our parks are not much more than a haven for junkies, perverts, and drunk people? I’ve seen this in other city parks, like San Francisco, where tables are provided for public games. It would be nice to be able to head into Fitzgerald Park on a sunny Saturday for a few games. Its disappointing that chess is no longer a popular game in Ireland, but there are bound to be plenty of good players among the Russians and Eastern Europeans working here. I haven’t played the game in years, since my ability to concentrate was shattered by the rapid-fire mindlessness of a computer screen.

The obligatory photos of fountains and buildings, etc., to be added.

The woman at the counter grunted to inform me that there was no ketchup. Cafe Kylemore will win no awards for service, but my god, what joy their sausages bring. No better way to say goodbye to Corcaigh and to Ireland… that is at least until Lennox chipper opens in the new terminal. I wonder if they’ll be open for the early flights… what a fine breakfast my traditional fare would make - breast in a bun, curry chips (with two onion rings “accidentally” thrown in for free if its not busy) one cheese and onion pie and a battered sausage. I’d skip the fried chicken on account of it being 6am.

There was a time when Cork airport was, without a doubt, the best airport in the universe. You could relax with Jack Charlton beside the well-stocked fish pond. You could tip your hat to Christy Ring before a quick game of Tekken 2 in the arcade. There were exotic fish tanks everywhere, and the whole place was pristine clean without a queue in sight. Getting off the plane, you could be carrying a nuclear bomb and the passport man would wink and let you through. I estimate that 2001 was the beginning of Cork Airport’s descent into mediocrity. In fairness, it is still a decent airport, and I don’t expect them to maintain the high standards they set for themselves in the past.

As much as the idea of a Lennox breakfast appeals to me, Terminal 2 - aka “the moneypit” can only be bad news for those of us who like to get off the plane and back home in 26 minutes (my current record). The long term parking lot is a disaster. A little minibus which can fit approx 4 and a half people put-puts back and forth to airport, so if you have a pram and some luggage you might as well call a taxi. At the moment I’m sitting outside gate 5 (I didn’t even know there was a gate 5) with my Examiner.

Trout stocks in Shannon threatened by chub. The irish Fisheries board have decided to clamp down and ban the introduction of new non-irish species into Irish waterways. Does this mean that it wasn’t illegal before now? I can’t even bring a turnip into the country from Romania, but up until now it would have been OK to set loose a colony of these Eastern European wels catfish?

Drink ads are banned during Joey. The examiner claims that “the hit TV series” attracts many young viewers. I’m wondering how they can label this a hit TV series when it got axed in its second season after ratings dropped 89%. And whats all this about attracting lots of young viewers? Feel free to correct me on this, but I don’t think there is anybody in Ireland (young or otherwise) who has watched more than 1 curiosity-satisfying episode of this absolute flop.

Shay Given has been granted Freedom of Donegal. This means that he can graze his sheep in Gweedore Park, and plant guns in any caravan he chooses.

Finally, cheers for the completion of the Mitchelstown bypass. Although Cheeseville was never as deadly a bottleneck as Monasterevin or Abbeyleix, there have been times when I caught badly caught there (usually during a festival or a rally). Thats another 10 minutes saved.

I had been planning on touring Eastern Europe earlier in the year - had it all mapped out, from Croatia to Estonia, but was forced to come to terms with the fact that I just couldn’t afford it. So I’m pleased to get the chance to attend the the 5th International Symposium on Parallel and Distributed Computing in Timisoara in July, where I will be presenting my results on “the Greedy Formation Algorithm for Mobile Ad Hoc Networks”.

Four days of hardcore technical presentations will probably be a bit much, but if I get through it without my head exploding then hopefully the experience will be of some benefit to me. There are some interesting talks, and the city of Timisoara is meant to be a nice place, so I am looking forward to going there.