In Ireland, the pub is often the living room of the community, or the neighborhood, a place where friends come to talk over the happenings of the day, where families gather to catch up, where travelers and visitors are welcomed. It is also quite often a place where stories are told, and music is shared.

The sharing of music at the pub is in some ways an extension of playing music in the living room and around the kitchen table at home. Pub sessions have their etiquette, it’s true, and some might say they have their rules, but these are more to keep the music flowing as part of the conversation than to make things stiff and formal. It is a lively night when you get to hear good music in a session.

Things are likely to be lively come the evening of 8th October, and not just in Sligo, where the band Dervish is playing a pub session on their home ground, in a sort of run up to their big twenty first anniversary celebration concert at the Sligo Live festival later in the month. At the session on the 8th, Dervish plans to play their favorite tunes and songs from across their two decade range of work, and to have good craic (fun and conversation, is what that word stands for, roughly, in Irish). As it turns out, you could be part of all that.

Dervish will be broadcasting the session over the internet. To finance this, they are asking a small charge — about what you’d pay for a pint, were you at the pub itself — and in return you’ll get to sit in on the session, send messages to the band in real time, and send messages to other viewers as well.

The six musicians who make up Dervish have, together and separately, won just about every award there is in Irish music. They have played at festivals ranging from Rock in Rio to Celtic Connections in Glasgow, and there are even Dervish cover bands in Russia and Japan.

It is to their home ground in the west of Ireland that they love to return, however, and on the night you will hear the six members of the band play reels, jigs, hornpipes, and songs from across their history, along with, perhaps, material you’ve not heard before. In addition to music from Irish tradition, the band have made their mark with songs including Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves, first made famous by Cher, and with Bob Dylan’s Boots of Spanish Leather. In Dervish’s versions, both of these fit right in with Irish trad, and lead singer Cathy Jordan has often been voted one of Ireland’s favorite singers.

In preparation for the web cast, band members have been making short film segments about their backgrounds and where they come from, which will also be included in the program. As is often the case with sessions, surprise musical guests may put in appearances as well.

The online web session begins at 11pm Irish time on the 8th of October (6pm US east coast time), and will run until 1am (8 pm US east coast time). To learn more or to book a reservation, there is information at the band’s web site, and at LiveTrad.com.

photograph of Dervish, lower right, courtesy of the band
photograph of pub session, upper left, copyright Kerry Dexter

The old graveyard up the hill seemed just as forgotten as the British colonials buried there 150 years ago. There was nobody in sight, no shade, no breeze, nothing—just a profound midday heat beating down on the faded, crumbling tombstones, and a barely perceptible buzz coming from the touristy hustle of the nearby Kandy National Museum and Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic.

And, then, Charles Carmichael, caretaker of the British Garrison Cemetery since 1990, seemed to appear out of thin air, like an apparition, and turned our mildly curious peek at the cemetery into an unexpected highlight of our time in Kandy.

Open for just 50-odd years between 1822 and the mid-1870s, the British Garrison Cemetery holds 195 graves of men, women, and children who succumbed, mostly, to tropical diseases of the time such as malaria, cholera, and heat stroke. Carmichael, barefoot with light mocoa-brown skin, a neatly trimmed mustache with curly handlebars, and a thick, soothing British accent—think a classically trained nightly news radio broadcaster in London, circa 1931—led us through those graves, quickly reciting from memory the stories of many of the deterred.

Here was the grave of a poor chap who died from heat stroke when trying to outrun a charging elephant; there was the final resting place of a woman who lived to be 86. Her last wish was to see her son, a British soldier, one more time before she died; she traveled here to central Sri Lanka to do just that, then died the very next day.

Captain James McGlashan survived a number of bloody battles, including in Waterloo against a fellow named Napoleon Bonaparte, only to later ignore repeated warnings about malaria in Kandy and die from it. The Cargills of Cargill Supermarket fame are buried here. A once-wealthy and powerful coffee plantation barron who lost it all, a soldier deemed a traitor by the British army for abandoning his post after being left to fend off advancing forces all by himself, a tomb holding five soldiers… all here, their memory living on in this one man.

As Charles led us around the cemetery and shared these stories, I couldn’t help but picture the ghosts of these long-dead people sitting on their tombstones, nodding in approval at their caretaker’s capsule accounts of their lives and ultimately deaths. Somebody cared; somebody remembered.

He seemed embarassed, though, that we were so impressed with his extensive knowledge of the cemetery: “I only know because of the man who wrote the book.” He refers, of course, to List of Inscriptions on Tombstones and Monuments in Ceylon, of Historical or Local Interest with an obituary of Persons Uncommemorated, by John Penry Lewis, a man lauded for the painstaking research of the book, which was originally published in 1913. Brevity was apparently not one of Mr. Lewis’s stronger suits, however.

Charles mentioned that there were very few visitors to the cemetery these days. “I have not seen an Englishman in over a week now,” he said. Still, he tends to these impossibly well-manicured grounds as if they were visited by hundreds daily—and they deserve to be.

This kind, humble man is a Sri Lankan treasure, a bridge to a forgotten history in a forgotten corner of Kandy. Lewis’s List of Inscriptions might be the skin and bones of the British Garrison Cemetery’s history, but Charles is the one who brings this place to life. I can picture him there now, lovingly, carefully, brushing dirt away from the tombstones, pulling weeds, mowing the grass in that blinding heat, waiting for somebody to share his stories with, that air of nobility hanging on his every word.

The place might be largely overlooked, but I’ll always remember Charles Carmichael, caretaker of the British Garrison Cemetery.

I’m sure I’ll find things to like.

I’ll try really hard.

But I just don’t see myself as a Las Vegas enthusiast.

Cities are wonderful, vibrant things and I’m very much a city kid. Colorful bright lights at night (and fountains!) are appealing. The desert and heat? Meh, I live in Texas. Heat is no biggie.  And can I cram in a trip out to see the nearby Hoover Dam?

It’s the whole fakery thing that bothers me.

Random Eiffel Towers built in Nevada; not a concept I can grasp.  Invitations to get bombed and act stupid and get laid. Um, I DID college already, thanks.

Putting gilt edges and big-name chefs around tacky doesn’t change its nature. Lipstick on a pig, and all that.

The good news is that I know I’ll find photo ops galore after watching Pam Mandel (she’s also not a Vegas fan) create her photographic magic in the Neon Boneyard; you can also make yourself busy doing the traveler’s lemon —> lemonade dance.

I’m going to Las Vegas because my business partner and I are presenting the Tourism Track at BlogWorld and New Media Expo. The expected audience is people who work in tourism and hospitality who want to learn more about social media and connect with some of the 4000+ bloggers who will descend on BlogWorld for the conference.

Teaching tourism folks about telling their stories through social media – and connecting them with bloggers who might be interested in their destinations – is my mission these days. I’d do it anywhere, in the most godforsaken place you can think of (as long as there’s WiFi.)

I know, I know….I’ll shut up and go figure out how to enjoy a city that’s not my style.

Hey, got any tips on cheap meals or interesting boutiques?

(If you like this post, please consider subscribing to the blog via RSS feed or by email – the email signup box is at the top of the right sidebar near the Search box. Thanks!)

Trying to escape the wet and cold of a Christchurch winter by going to Melbourne, Australia  possibly wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve had. In fact, if I’d asked an Australian at the time, they’d have probably told me the idea was just plain dumb. Melbourne’s winter, it turns out, isn’t any less wet or cold than Christchurch’s winter.

But Melbourne did have one thing that Christchurch didn’t – a chance to experience the Titanic’s 1912 Maiden Voyage through an interactive exhibit being held at the Melbourne Museum. For this, I’d happily suffer through the wet and cold.

Featuring over 280 authentic objects – including sections of the ship’s opulent interior – from the doomed ship,  Titanic: The Artefact Exhibition follows the ship journey from it’s construction to it’s destruction.

Just prior to entering, we were each handed a boarding pass with the name of one of the original passengers printed on it and advised to take on that person’s identity while wandering through the exhibit.

So I became ‘Mrs Claus Peter Hansen (Jennie L. Howard) from Racine, Wisconsin, travelling third class (what’s new!) with my husband and brother-in-law.

As Mrs Hansen, I walked through the departure gallery and straight into the First Class Hallway, past the First Class Staterooms, and the ship’s Grand Stairway, all the while highly aware that the real Mrs Hansen, travelling in Third Class, probably never got to see any of the opulence and comfort that First Class travellers experienced.

Instead, Mrs Hansen would have been herded straight into the Third Class area, where there were basic but cramped facilities close to the boiler room.

With cruise ships no longer so rigidly divided into class levels, it was fascinating to see all the different features from the three classes of travel. And it wasn’t just cabin size and comfort that was affected – dining rooms, promenade decks, and even libraries were also segregated by class.

Wandering through, you could almost forget the disaster that awaited them all. But this quickly changes as you turn the corner and the eerie creaking and groaning and darkness reminds you that for the Titanic and it’s passengers and crew, things don’t end well.

A sense of urgency develops as you hear the radio operator calling for help and voices pierce through the darkness. You stand and listen to chilling accounts of the night of the sinking, of stories of courage and despair. The walls are lined with photographs of passengers and crew, display cabinets house clothing and diaries, personal effects that tell of happier times.

On display are portions of the Titanic, rusted and damaged from year’s lying on the sea bed, and a real iceberg that everyone is encouraged to touch.

It’s a moving display and tribute to the over 2200 people who died the night that the Titanic sunk.

The names of all who died are listed on the memorial wall at the end of the exhibit. A quick search revealed that my passenger persona, Mrs Jennie Hansen, survived. Sadly, her husband and her brother-in-law did not.

Titanic: The Artefact Exhibition at Melbourne Museum (from May 14-October 17) is one of six titanic exhibitions currently happening around the world.

It’s been a year since I’ve started blogging here at Perceptive Travel.  I interviewed Tim a few weeks ago for our Writers at Work series (since he wrote a fab story for the webzine — interview is coming soon, I promise!) and after we were done with that business, I think I might have told him that I would pay him to blog here if he wasn’t paying me, because it’s so much fun.

I probably shouldn’t have said that. Tim, please don’t stop paying me.

Since you’ve now no doubt realized by now that I am wont to reflect, I just looked back over my archive from this past year to see what I’ve wrought. Since our format here is no format at all, I’ve been able to indulge my curiosity in a wide variety of topics, from the average lifespan of a redwood tree to the psychological effects of music, while sharing stories from my travels which have taken me to Asia, Australia, throughout North America — also to Europe, which, alas, does not start with the letter A.

I’m also considering whether this gig has made me travel in a different way. I’ve always been given to curiosity and on my travels have cherished the discovery of odd facts as my greatest souvenirs.  But blogging here has enhanced my curiosity,  made me pay even more careful attention to small moments, questions and oddities — because I know I’ll find use for them here.  If anything, I think writing here each has week has miniaturized my attention,  because I’ve realized that an event that took mere minutes, and sometimes even seconds to unfold on the road, can inspire writing for years to come.

And that means that every second holds the potential for inspiration, every moment counts.  Which of course it does for us all — wherever we are, and whether we’re writers or not.

Here’s are a few of my stories from this past year that you’ve made the most popular, by virtue of your attention and page views. Thank you. And I’m looking forward to another year of traveling perceptively.

• Traveling in the Segregated South: The Negro Motorists Green Book
• The European Look: Or, Why I Felt Frumpy in Italy
• There Must Be Some Misunderstanding: Or, Things I’ve Gotten Wrong on Airplanes
• The Story of Evangeline’s Empty Grave: A Louisiana Story
• The Disappointing Moral of Up in the Air