People who know me best know that I like to… take my time.
I guess I inherited a certain blind sense of meandering from my father, and his father before him. I like to stop and smell the roses. I like to hear the entirety of a song before I turn off the stereo. I often find myself running late to wherever I need to be, charging out the door with my makeup in my purse and my jacket unbuttoned. I like to carry on a conversation when I eat or read a book while I sip my afternoon tea. It goes without saying, then, that I usually find myself drinking a cup of cold coffee at work or picking up a glass of warm beer at the pub.
This understandably drives some people nuts.
Yet, it’s equally strange and exasperating to me that I can’t slow the tick of time. I can’t stop my nephew and niece from growing up, I can’t make a great bottle of wine never be empty, I can’t extend a sunset, I can’t will hearts to beat that have reached their day to stop. Frank tends to live in the moment, while I am always cursing that I don’t have more time. That must be why we’re good for each other.
So here we are, less than three months from our wedding. There is so much to do, but still we must work and sleep and fill our time with all the not-so-fun necessities of life. I know the day will arrive before I realize it and be over before I can slow it. That’s how these things go. Standing off with that reality reminds me that I should enjoy the planning as much as the event, and not worry too much if it’s not perfect. As all brides who have gone before me will attest, even when you think you’re wedding is going to be “simple,” it takes on a life of its own and will carry you off with the tide if you’re not careful!
My parents and sister have booked flights to be here, and my friend who will stand up with me is working on her travel arrangements. My little brother and his fiancee will be here, too - I have not seen him in over three years while he’s been back and forth from Iraq and I have never met her. The family has booked a lovely little cottage outside the town, and I’m getting excited to fill it with special groceries, go pick them up at the airport and bring them back to what has become “my” Ireland. I’m likewise looking forward to finding out what other friends and family will be able to come from our small list of invitees and I can’t wait to see Bellingham Castle all dressed up for our day of celebration. I know - I KNOW - I can’t be late, can’t dawdle, can’t draw out this once-in-a-lifetime day. So I better enjoy the moments from now until then, each one in and of itself. But tell me, how on earth am I to begin?
Drat, my coffee has gone cold.
First off, HAPPY 93RD BIRTHDAY to my Grandma, Evelyn.
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Well dear friends and potential wedding guests, we found out last night that the venue for our wedding, the beloved Bellingham Castle, is being used as the subject of a rather obnoxious reality TV show. I doubt it will have any affect on our use of the place, but it’s still enough to raise eyebrows!
The show is called ‘Failte Towers,’ a play on the old British comedy with John Cleese, ‘Fawlty Towers.’ (Failte, pronounced ‘fall-cha,’ is the Irish word for welcome.) The show will feature 12 Irish celebrities as they try to run a high-end hotel. It first airs tomorrow night. So I guess we’ll see!!! But somehow I think this knock-off will be a far cry from the classic.
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On another ironic and humorous note, I’ve been asked a lot lately where I’m from in the States. While Indiana was my most recent home, I still always have to respond, ‘Montana.’ I’ve been surprised, however, at how many people know where that is! The downside, at least in my opinion, is that they always ask about Butte.
As we Montanans know, the mining city of Butte was largely populated by Irish immigrants in the 19th Century, a heritage that is everpresent. The letters sent back to family here must have been glowing and complimentary, because many Irish folks I talk to get a faraway mystical look in their eyes as they express their longing to see the fair city.
And then I have to break the news. Now, Butte is not a bad place, but it is far from its former glory, and is often the butt (ha ha) of Montana jokes. I remember always disliking Butte as kid, when we’d make the 90 mile drive over mountain passes to get there. Our basketball team always lost to theirs, children were been shot and killed by other children in the local elementary school, the city seemed worn and dirty, restaurants were full of smoking old people, and the enormous statue of the Virgin Mary that looks down from the mountains was once dyed green for St. Paddy’s Day.
There are some great museums, antique shops and a fantastic Italian bakery there, but even these did not save its reputation during a recent trip I made back to the mining town with Frank. He, like his Irish bretheren, was curious as well. And while there was no shortage of Irish pubs to see, most of the town was shut down by 5 pm on a Friday night. We ended our visit by getting dinner in a brewery where we had the pleasure of witnessing a girl at the table next to us getting the Heimlich Maneuver.
So… I ask you? Should I be so bold as to dissuade Irish from visiting Butte? Should I encourage them to drive 90 miles southeast and vacation in Bozeman? It’s a funny quandry, but mostly I just smile and nod and let them keep their dreams… while advising them to see as much of the Treasure State as possible.
And, if by chance you happen to be near Bozeman, Montana, today, you mustn’t miss the Sweet Pea Festival, one of my favorite events of the summer when I lived there.
Well, I’ve been in Ireland nearly 7 months now, and today was our first barbecue! It’s been another wet summer, much to everyone’s dismay, and today looked like just another heavy, humid, soggy day. However, after I left work, the sun was breaking through the clouds and I urged Frank to help me quickly buy a disposable BBQ, burgers, buns, corn on the cob (at a staggering €1.79 for two ears) and the lot. After dinner, I broke into a bag of campfire marshmallows my mom sent us a while back, and we roasted them and put them on McVitie’s chocolate digestives for our own version of S’mores!!! Yumm! It felt so good to have some summer fun.
I must add, the view from this particular Irish backyard is much improved since I moved here.
Frank has confessed that neither he nor his brother mowed the lawn all of last year, so it has taken some TLC to get it back to looking good! (Imagine, the only brown lawn on the Emerald Isle!!) It still needs some work, i.e. weed killer, etc., but the yard is back to being a nice place to relax. In addition to my own little veg garden and flower pots, Frank has been working hard cutting back some overgrown trees and building a little set of brick steps to an open space underneath the branches. We found a bright orange hammock on sale this week, so we just hung it up and tried it tonight after our dinner! I’ve always wanted a hammock… and now we’ve got one.
(The lawn is not the only thing that is growing!!! Look at Georgie!!! Meanwhile, I try to repair my garden covering as best I can… grrr…)
I guess we’ll be taking turns.
Earlier this week I had my first day off in several weeks, so I brought Frank back with me to Howth. This time we hiked the entire peninsula (to burn off our fresh fish ‘n’ chips) and made it to the pub at the summit of the mountain!!! (Leave it to the Irish, ha ha ha…) I really can’t even describe the beauty of hiking a green mountain with cliffs dropping off hundreds of feet into the rocky sea. It left me speechless.
Here I am, caught while putting heather flowers in my hair.
A million euro house with a priceless view! Below you can see the Dublin mountains off in the distance.
Meanwhile, the days are already getting shorter and I know autumn will be here before I know it. It seems like I’m working all the time, but when I do have spare moments, I am trying out cake recipes and getting out into the countryside and small towns for amazing afternoons like these.
These are the moments I thank God that I’m alive
These are the moments I’ll remember all my life
I’ve got all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more- Edwin McCain
One of the things I love most about moving to a new place is discovering cool day trips in the area, things you didn’t even realize were there, and all right under your nose!
Yesterday, I was lucky enough to find just one of those places - the town of Howth (pronounced Hothe, like “home”), jutting off on its own peninsula just north of Dublin proper. You’ll see on the map below, Drogheda is on the northern part of the coast shown, and Dublin is just past the halfway mark. Howth is just above it. This also may give you a better idea of where I live!
Anyway, ironically enough, I discovered this place through a visit from an old friend - one of my former film volunteers at Heartland! Her name is Marianne Sahm and she is currently on a bus tour through Ireland with her parish, St. Jude’s of Indianapolis. Marianne contacted me a while back to let me know she’d be in the area, and we were happily able to meet up last night, with her group, at a great traditional pub in Howth. She was also kind enough to ask what I might like her to bring from the States - and I’m proud to say I now have a lifetime supply of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups!
But before I met up with Marianne and her group, I had a chance to explore the town and I must admit, I fell in love with it. Perhaps it was the day itself - after working the lunch rush at the Salt House, I came home, dressed up, and caught the train south. It was beautiful and sunny, a perfect day for a train ride with the lapping waves of the sea out one window and rolling green hills out the other. It’s been a while since I had a few hours to kick back, and I enjoyed every second.
When I got off the train at Howth, I was immediately taken. The peninsula is rugged and rocky, though not as much as the Western part of the country, but a majestic change of scene from our sandy beaches anyway. It’s a major fishing area, so there were ships and boats of every shape and size, rusty, well-used vessels, loaded down with tackle and close-mouthed men who communicated through winks and grunts. I walked down the pier past a dozen fish restaurants and fish suppliers. I even got to see two sea lions, swimming around the ships waiting for any unwanted fish to drop into their mouths! I haven’t seen sea lions in the wild since I was in Oregon in 1994!
I walked to the end of the pier and sat on the rocks, watching people fish with long, strong rods, and then I followed the manicured footpaths and lawns of the promenade into town. I passed the ancient ruins of an Abbey built in the 12th century, and I delighted in how neatly it fit into the green folds of the hillside. Many colorful homes and hotels nestled themselves against the terrain as well. I can’t imagine what the rent costs out there, but one day, if we can afford it, I’d love to take up residence in the cheery, quiet town of Howth.
Hope you enjoy the following pictures, taken on my phone!
It’s been another busy week here in Ireland, and a rainy week, too.
Today I worked in the kitchen at the hostel and made one of the cooks cross. She yelled something at me in Latvian, and I got more nervous, so I dropped a pie. Tonight I’m hanging out at the wine shop, closing things up in another hour. We’ve got a bottle of 2007 Moulin Berger Julienas Vayolette open for tasting, a light and summery red that I confess I wouldn’t mind having more than a taste of right now.
It’s Independence Day in America, and I’m missing it, and you.
Someone asked me the other day if I’d be celebrating the 4th of July, and I replied that it’s truly a community holiday. So in other words, not really. In a country that values walls, doors and general privacy so highly, it’s the only holiday I can really think of that is so utterly communal - when you meet your friends and neighbors in yards, streets and parks for food, music, laughter, fireworks, and the like. I spent the last several enjoying the Indianapolis community on the White River Canals and watching the fireworks from the green lawns surrounding the war memorials downtown. In my mind, it’s a day for messy slices of dripping watermelon, smoking hamburgers on the barbeque, cool whip and berries on top of a Betty Crocker sheet cake. It’s a day for lawn chairs and flip flops. Not for looking out the window of a small Irish wine shop onto a street that’s about to turn into a river of rain.
Sorry, I do hate to sound depressing! I just miss America today, and the friends and culture I left behind there. I miss the sunshine, too, haha, but really for the first time I can think of. It hasn’t bothered me before this week. It’s funny that when I moved to Indiana, I missed Montana so much, and now that I’m in Ireland, I miss Indiana. Not that the fireworks echoing off the Briger Mountains don’t have a special place in my heart as well… but my most recent recollection of home is the solid, reliable Midwest.
So it’s your patriotic duty, my dears, to go out and make a night of it tonight, for me. Indulge in a little Cool Whip, which you can’t get here, and buy the biggest watermelon you can find - they cost around $20 each here, so I’ll forego the pleasure. Perhaps next year I will join you.
It feels like a year since I last wrote, but that must be because the last 10 days were so full.
Sunday before last I went to Dundrum Shopping Centre on the South side of Dublin with Frank’s sister and mother. His sister, Lorraine, works for a fine clothing store called Monsoon, and the Dundrum location also has their bridal wear! So we braved the lashing rain and went down to check out their wares. I ended up finding a lovely dress and was able to get it with a 50% discount from Lorraine, so I bought it and brought it home with me! Let it never be said that it’s impossible to find bargains in Ireland! So now the dress is purchased, and it feels like it’s really happening! But don’t get sneaky and go looking online to try and guess which one I have - my dress is no longer shown in the current Monsoon catolgue! Ha!
However, on a sadder note, on Monday we found out that Frank’s grandmother’s health had gone downhill very quickly, so we all went to her side to spend her last few hours together. By midday Tuesday, she had passed away.
The rest of the week was filled with the wake, prayers at the funeral home, blessings of the graves, church services, visits and, of course, the funeral. I’ve never been so actively involved in a person’s death before, and while part of that was because I am now very nearly “family,” it also goes with the territory in Ireland. Loss of a loved one is something that the entire community embraces, and it’s both touching and exhausting. I won’t go into too much detail here for the sake of privacy, but let me just say it’s a beautiful thing, and not at all strange. While the family, friends and neighbors openly mourn together, there is also a great amount of joy and laughter in the storytelling and fellowship. And while I found some of the traditions rigid (how many Hail Mary’s???) and others curious (everyone wants to touch the body to say goodbye), there were many others that drew me in and hopefully showed me how to look after those who knew Sheila best.
One of my favorite things - as the funeral procession followed the hearse on foot from the mortuary to the church, every car along the way stopped in the middle of the road until the hearse had passed. Also, any joggers or people walking along the same street stopped as we passed by. Some crossed themselves, others looked away… but everyone gave their silent respect to the mourners, even in the middle of rush hour traffic. Well, everyone except for one of the town’s more colorful characters, a man named Paddy who thinks he’s Elvis. He happened upon the procession as he stumbled out of a liquor store and began to shout nonsense at us.
I didn’t really know Frank’s grandmother, but somehow, I think she may have had something to say back to Paddy. I know it was hard for me to stifle a giggle and keep walking.
May Sheila, now reunited with husband Bill, Rest In Peace.
Wow. Just when I think it can’t rain any harder, it does. I’m looking out the window on this June afternoon, watching the rain pour in thick streams down the roofs, walls, streets and footpaths.
While Frank and his brother are taking trips to recycling center, I’m making corn chowder and catching up on some online work. And what a day for it! Although, I was hoping to make it out to the shops for a few more ingredients… and I think I may skimp and just go with what I have.
It’s good to have the rain, though. I was tiring of hauling full watering cans out to the front lawn, the rose bushes, potted flowers and my vegetable patch. I’d say this will save me the hassle for a while! After many disastrous attempts, I am glad to report that there are carrots, spring onions, lettuce and potatoes growing in my small patch of dirt. When it stops raining sometime I will take pictures! I’m afraid none of them are sprouting from their designated rows, so my hopes of making a mini-Tinsley House garden are laughable, but at least there are edibles there! Next year I’ll have it better planned. And there’s a frame with chicken wire and plastic covering the baby plants from the omnivorous cats and dogs that tramp through the garden.
I have a week off from work at present, so we’ve been doing wedding planning and have spruced up the house some. Frank and I finally had our appointment with the Registrar of County Louth, so we’ve done all the paperwork to be married! Now we just have to wait until this fall when it can be legally completed. The appointment was in a noisy little room, conducted between ourselves and a woman behind plexiglass as a woman next to her conducted similar interviews with other couples. About half way through the meeting, our woman reached around the glass to pull a spider out of my hair!!! Then she laughed and told me it was a good luck spider and that I ought to buy a lottery ticket! Ah yes. I’m still learning the local superstitions, and enjoying them.
It’s funny though, because I’ve noticed a lot over the last months that non-USA nationals have a lot to learn about America as well. The things they say and think and assume about us are incredible sometimes! Even if they’ve been to visit! It just goes to show, you can’t judge a country or a people by your knowledge of one city or one person or one TV show! Here are a few at which I just shook my head.
“In America they don’t really have any good biscuits, you know? I mean, I guess they have Oreos, but not really any other good cookies.”
“I hate America. The people are so rude! I went once to visit my sister about 15 years ago and they were so mean to me at customs I’ll never go back.”
“Australia is so much like America that I don’t really need to visit the United States. People from Australia aren’t really interested in going to America.”
“There isn’t any good mass transport in America.”
All that and much more, usually including some comments about how Americans are all fat, stupid, religious nut-jobs who love the word “freedom” just a little too much. (Of course, that last bit might be true, but in a good way! :))
So there you have it. Sometimes funny, sometimes offensive… but quickly soothed when I hear similar ignorant comments about the British, French, Italians, Chinese, Indian, Lithuanian, Kenyan… the list goes on and on. But really, aren’t we all just people, to begin with?
I hope I always keep my mind as open as my eyes when I visit or live in different places.
After living here in Ireland for just over five months, I have been carefully developing my repertoire of characteristic Irish sayings. They’re not what I may have thought a few years ago, i.e. the stereotypical sing-songy quaint little phrases, but they’re catchy and fun just the same. Here are some of my favorites - feel free to use them when you come to visit.
“Ah, now that’s very dear.” - Translation: That’s very expensive.
“Now, stop being bold!” - Translation: Don’t be naughty!
“What are you giving out about?” - Translation: What are you complaining about?
“He’s just taking the piss.” - Translation: He’s just teasing.
“She’s grand, thanks.” - Translation: She’s fine, thanks. (notice, not great, just fine.)
“What are you having for tea?” - Translation: What are you having for dinner/supper?
“Cheers.” - Translation: Thanks.
“I’d say he’s as happy as a pig in sh*t!” - Translation: He’s really happy.
“That dog must be part Alsatian!” - Translation: That dog must be part German Shepherd!
Likewise, I’ve learned words never to use in conversation, unless you want to be branded an American tourist or a dirty talker! For instance, never ask for a “ride,” instead as for a “lift.” Also don’t use the word “fanny.” But above all, don’t ever let on if you voted for George Bush!
* * * * *
I’m also back to being busy, helping out in a local hostel and a wine shop. The hostel is fun - run by an Australian guy and his Latvian wife. I’ve been there almost every day since last Thursday, cooking, cleaning, doing dishes and waiting tables. I definitely work hard, but everyone is so laid back and jovial, it makes for a good time. As for the wine shop, it’s all old world wines, so only products from France, Germany, Spain and Italy are stocked, and they’re all from small, independent growers as well. I’m learning a lot in both places, AND watching plenty of British and Irish cooking shows in my spare time! Maybe I’ll earn that culinary degree yet, but through nontraditional means!
Food and wine recommendations for the week:
- Spicy ginger beef stir fry with whole wheat noodles, cauliflower, celery, peppers and garlic
Almara, Finca Linte, 2005 - from Bodegas Macaya (Spain)
… we’ve been enjoying amazing, warm, sunny weather for the last few weeks, so I won’t complain about the rain. In fact, our garden needed a good drenching. But I DO mind the Snail Family Reunion that goes on across our lawn and sidewalks, heading for a culmination on the rose bushes. I’ve never been much of a squeamish one, so I gathered up as many as I could find and humanely dumped them over the fence to the empty lot next door. We never had snails like that in Montana… actually, I don’t think we ever had snails at all!
But like I said, it’s been brilliant weather lately. The other night, Frank got home from painting and we went out for a picnic with Georgie - salami, camembert, bleu cheese, bread rolls, pears, a bottle of Chardonnay, and a bunch of fresh brownies. Mmm! We walked to the riverside, spread out a blanket, and enjoyed the view. Later, Frank and Georgie played a made-up version of baseball with a walking stick and a flat tennis ball.
The yellow flowers behind them is a plant called Rapeseed, and I think it’s the culprit of my recent allergies. However, I can’t complain too much because a few sneezes in Ireland is nothing compared to my maddening itchy, drippy, stuffy, watery everything I used to suffer in Indiana.
In other news, I’ve started a book club. I missed the one I used to be part of in Indy, so I posted a notice at the library. We had our first meeting on Sunday to get to know each other. For now, it’s just three of us, maybe four… and we’re still thinking on our book choices. One of the ladies is a professor of literature at Trinity College in Dublin! So I guess I better be on my best behavior! Our first title is “On Chesil Beach,” by Ian McEwan. Hopefully it’s a winner - I think it’s a good one to start with, because it’s not too long and daunting.
Hope you’re all enjoying summer, wherever you are! I still keep up with the American news when I can… Obama winning the primary… Ed Carpenter placing 5th in the Indy 500… Harvey Korman passing away… none of it is too far away from my notice.
Well, I can’t hide it any longer - today is my birthday. Happy 26th to Me.
We had friends over for cake on Saturday night, then went down the road to a cozy hotel pub, then back to the house for more good company and some frozen pizza. I think the crowd left around 4 a.m. Leave it to my Irish friends to throw me a good, long-winded party!
Here is the cake - I’ve been experimenting to see if I could get away with making our wedding cake this fall. I still need some practice with the actual “sponge” part, but it tasted good. Yellow cake, coffee buttercream icing, Nutella, fondant over all, trimmed with shaved chocolate, hazelnuts, and coffee beans.
Yes, I AM aware that I misspelled “birthday.” Frank was teasingly spelling it out to me wrong as I wrote it and I didn’t even notice that his plan worked! Boys!!! Ah well, it just looks like I spelled it with a Drogheda accent.
It’s a blustery, overcast, chilly grey day for my birthday, so I may just stay inside with a book or the new movies I received as gifts. Or maybe I’ll make myself a hot bath with a Lush bath fizzy and a good cup of coffee. Or I may head out with my CV again, knocking on doors for a job at one of the local pubs or restaurants.
A year ago I was in Williamsburg, VA, on a little vacation following the Baltimore wedding of my friends Annie and Mike (who just had a baby!!! His name is John, but I like to call him John Boy). It was fun and beautiful, but I had massive allergies and I missed Frank. So it’s nice to be here with him this year, even if the weather isn’t quite cooperating.
Strange to think 10 years ago I was having a Sweet 16 party. Or that 20 years ago I was only 6. I wonder where my life will lead me by the time I turn 36? I imagine lots of things for myself, but am a bit too shy to record them here - I might jinx myself!
In other news, Frank and I’ve been taking some really nice walks lately, by the river, on the beach, through the fields outside of town. Here are some photos from our last jaunt a few days ago with Frank’s dad and the dogs, out near Oldbridge and the Battle of the Boyne site.
We came upon this huge old manor house, probably 18th Century, derelict, but still solid. If you cut back the trees, it would have a beautiful view of the Boyne River. We decided one day we’re going to buy it and fix it up, like in Grand Designs! This is part of the amazing old kitchen, with tons of ovens built into the walls and a gorgeous brick ceiling.
Definitely a fixer-upper.
I couldn’t resist picking a collection of the incredible wildflowers. Now they’re in a vase on the mantel, still looking lovely.
The fields at dusk.
