15 August 2006

Frisch weht der Wind der Heimat zu: Mein Irisch Kind, wo weilest du?

So I'm off to the Green Hill, for the first time. I will blog from Bayreuth if I can find an Internet cafe and, more to the point, can figure out how they work, which might be a stretch. I figure the endless, waterless flight will be stress enough without adding unnecessary burdens. In my family I'm considered something of a tech whiz kid because I know how to order stuff from Amazon, so you can see where I'm coming from. This may explain why I've always been drawn to sciencey types: they complete me. . . .
I'm selfishly glad that the latest airport uproar happened last week and not this week, so at least I can make sure to have no contraband pudding or suspicious contact lens cases on me if I get pulled aside, which seems probable, since I am an angry-looking bearded man with a suspicious-sounding surname. In preparation for what I've heard of the temperatures in the Festspielhaus I have cut off all my hair, so now I'm wondering if I looked crazier with my hair falling below my shoulders or with my head shaved the way it is now. Time and eventually this blog will tell.

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