Shhh! The baby’s asleep. Finally asleep. But now I’m drawing a blank when I’ve finally got the chance to sit down and write this blog! (They call it “nappy brain” around here, who knows??! Probably the same ailment that has jinxed my ability to cook a decent meal in weeks. Ah, tsk, tsk. )
Ironic, too, that I was hoping to blog about my hopes of writing down some of the crazy stories that have come out of these 27 + years of my life and getting them published into an actual book! Ha! No, the memoirs of Maryann Koopman Kelly will have to wait, I’m afraid, for a more opportune time when my brain waves are actually flowing in the same direction again.
In the meantime, it’s a great time to mention some of the memoirs I’ve been reading of late. Frank bought me Julie & Julia back when I was still pregnant, and I have to say I couldn’t put it down! It sprung from a revolutionary blog and has even been made into a film, which I have yet to see. I have always been somewhat addicted to cooking/food TV programs, books and magazines, so the subject matter – cooking your way through Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a single year – was right up my alley.
This autobiography was followed up by one that could not have been more different and yet pertains more to this blog – Don’t Wake Me at Doyles by Maura Murphy. I found this Irish woman’s tale on the shelf of a local used book store and smiled as I thought of my old friend, Kathy Doyle, from Indianapolis. Over a series of weeks, I kept picking up the book in the store until one week I finally purchased it, much to the delight of our friend Mark, who owns the store and was probably tired of me dog-earing his merchandise!
Anyway, it is, well, very typical Irish. (The title refers to being “waked” or having a funeral party at a local pub called Doyles.) It’s the story of a woman and her family, from the mid 1920’s up to the present day. It is dark, sad, and sometimes downright unbelievable, yet it has the classic sharp Irish wit woven throughout and it was these anecdotes that, frankly, kept me from closing the covers out of depression! Though the writing isn’t going to win any awards, I’d highly recommend this book on content alone for those who are interested in Irish history, particularly pertaining to women. I think out of all the books I’ve read on Ireland, Irish history and Irish memoirs, this one was the most revealing. If I hadn’t heard similar things from some of Frank’s family acquaintances, I would think old Mrs. Murphy was severely exaggerating – people had plumming in the 1950s, didn’t they? No man could get away with drinking and beating his wife so much, could he? Poverty wasn’t really that prevalent, was it?
Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been naive.
A couple of other Irish memoirs worth checking out, if you’re in the market, are Angela’s Ashes by the now-deceased Frank McCourt, and 44: Dublin Made Me by Peter Sheridan. I’ve not read the former (though it sat on my bookshelf in Indiana until I moved over here – you can find it at any charity shop), but I think it was well-represented by the film, which I have seen. The latter, 44: Dublin Made Me, is one of my favorite autobiographies of all time.
This is another book I found high on the shelves of a used book store, only this one was in Charlottesville, VA. Not only is the writing masterful, but the stories, like Maura Murphy’s, will break your heart. Although “our hero” in 44 is male, his memoir is still tender and vulnerable, told from Mr. Sheridan’s well-recalled boyhood point of view. Also, as the title states, this is very much a Dublin story, whereas Angela’s Ashes is Limerick and Don’t Wake Me at Doyles is primarily set in Co. Offaly and parts of Birmingham, England.
Memoirs are great, especially when the subject matter is so captivating. They can be tragic, funny, ridiculous or inspiring, but whatever they are, as long as they’re good, I find myself drawn to their honesty again and again. After all, isn’t a poignant memoir sort of a taste of what life is all about? A glimpse into someone else’s life that makes you realize how much the same – and how drastically different – we human beings are? Kitchen Privileges by Mary Higgins Clark is another great example from a few years back. What writer wouldn’t aspire to record a similar thought-provoking piece of their own history? Hopefully you can see where I’m going with all this.
Next up on my reading list? On Writing by Stephen King. Hopefully this one will get me back on my own literary horse, so to speak.
Having a baby and keeping things simple is like telling people you’re going to get married and keep your wedding simple. Somehow, as tidy as you intend to keep the new life being added to yours, you will end up with loads and loads and LOADS of stuff!
Now, stuff is great, don’t get me wrong, and I have seriously been blown away by the generosity of people we know. There is absolutely nothing Evelyn could want for, thanks to friends, neighbors and family. Between hand-me-downs from cousins and new gifts, she has enough clothing for triplets (at least for the first 6 months or so, then it dwindles down some)! There are so many really lovely things, too, things that are a shame if she won’t get to wear them more than once or twice! But I digress…
Out of all the amazing things people have given us, though, I thought I’d take a moment to note all the handmade things we’ve received. In an age when it’s often cheaper AND easier to buy machine-made clothing and accessories, handmade things really stand out to me as something special. This is even more apparent to me lately because I attempted to knit Frank a scarf for Christmas, and even though I began it in October, he still got about 12 inches of black knitted wool and a ball of yarn wrapped up under the tree with a “to be continued” note! So I am especially appreciative to the handmade items Evelyn has received, whether purchased or created, from the quilts and blankets to the clothing and toys, all lovingly assembled around the world and sent here to her little nursery.
Here are a few pictures to show you what I mean:
Knitted and crocheted blankets – the yellow ones from our next-door neighbor, and the green and white one from a friend of the family .
The quilt on the left was designed by my sister Caroline in China and the quilt on the right was created by the ladies from the Dr’s office where I work and assembled by my old manager, Siobhan.
A teeny tiny cardigan from the lady next door.
A traditional Irish pram cover, made for us by one of the patients at the Dr’s office where I work.
One of several great onesies designed by our friend Claire in Indiana – the set also includes a giraffe, an owl, a whale and a bear.
A hat and shoes from Caroline in China – the typical dress of children in the town where she lives.
One of my favorites – a very fancy lavender pram cover and accompanying Catholic medal from our neighbor.
A gorgeous Christening shawl from our neighbor – I’m not sure what to do with this one as we won’t be having Evelyn christened! Would it be blasphemy to put it over her Easter dress?
My mom has sent these handmade wicker rattles to my sister and me both when we had our babies – they are great! A lady in my hometown of Bozeman, Montana, makes them and sells them at the Farmer’s Market.
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Funnily enough, it seems the only homemade thing we did NOT receive over the last few weeks was anything food wise!!! I guess growing up in Small Town America spoiled me with expectations of casseroles and cakes whenever there’s a big life event! I know, it seems petty (I mentioned this to a friend recently and he could not stop laughing about it), but speaking from personal experience, it was all Frank and I could do to scrounge up a sandwich those first days at home after Evelyn came along.
I guess that’s a lesson for me, then – I might not be so great at knitting, but next time a friend of mine has a wedding/funeral/birth/etc. I will be on the doorstep with something nice from the oven! I would heartily recommend you do the same.
And all of a sudden, poof, it’s over! No more heartburn, no more enormous tummy blocking the view of my feet, no more carpel tunnel in my arms… no more being pregnant!
Wow, it’s been ages since my last post!
After 40 weeks and an additional 12 days, our little angel, our Evelyn, decided to make her way into the world. She was born on December 18, taking about 21 hours of labor to arrive. We won’t get much sleep for a while, but she’s worth it! She weighed in at 6 lbs 15.5 oz and is continuing to grow. All our thanks go out to the staff in the Midwifery Unit at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital here in Drogheda, and of course to our friends and family ’round the world who have been so supportive.
The name Evelyn, which came to Ireland from Norman invaders, means “wished for (baby)” and is thought to have originated as “Aveline.” It is also the name of my 94 year-old paternal grandmother, who is a spunky mix of German and Italian heritage. Sheila is the name of Frank’s late maternal grandmother, another lively female character. How appropriate then, that our very sweet and independent baby girl is named after these two incredible women.
I can’t finish this post without mentioning my amazing husband, Frank. He’s put up with all the emotional outbursts, late-night cravings, fits of insanity and now all the stresses of being a new daddy, and all with hardly a complaint! Often you’ll hear new fathers say how in love they are with their wife after watching her give birth… but I’m here to say it goes the other way as well! It’s surreal and exciting to be a new parent, but I also never knew just how much more I could fall in love with my husband after going through the rigors of pregnancy, labor and birth and now, parenthood. So Honey, I love you, and thanks for all you’ve done and are doing.
To all the rest of you: If I am writing in bits and spurts for a while, forgive me – I have my hands full (literally!). In the meantime, I hope you’ll keep checking back and know that I send you all my best wishes for the New Year.
From all of us – Frank, Maryann, Evelyn and Georgie – Happy Holidays!
I have been under the weather for the last couple of weeks – a bad head cold last week and a terrible stomach bug this week – so I decided to post something a little light-hearted to cheer us all up. So here you are, in no particular order:
10 Things the Irish Just Don’t Get About Americans
1. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
2. The purpose of Bridal and Baby Showers
3. The audacity of Gift Registries (They don’t want to be told what to buy!)
4. What’s with saying “I love you” so much?
5. Frequency of formal studio portraits, especially for little kids
6. The concept of TIPPING
7. Thanksgiving as a holiday
8. Why, in a country of so many choices, is it so hard to find Digestive Biscuits for me cuppa tea?
9. What’s the rush?
10. Who actually voted for George W. Bush?
10 Things Americans Just Don’t Get About the Irish
1. Why 4 and 5 year-old kids still ride in strollers with pacifiers in their mouths
2. How such a devout Catholic nation doesn’t count using the Lord’s name in vain as swearing
3. Their inability to give a straight answer – always “maybe,” never “yes” or “no”
4. Why they only seem to take vacations to Spain, Disneyworld or New York City year after year
5. How they can live in the same town with several generations of family and yet not know them… family reunion, anyone?
6. Why newspapers (including the ads) don’t answer a single question you may have about a given topic
7. A nonexistent understanding of the term “customer service”
8. Why Budweiser and Coors are better sellers here than anything in the Guinness family
9. Can’t you move just a little bit faster?
10. The obsession with Robbie Williams
Wow, I can’t believe we’re at the dawn of our first wedding anniversary! Yes, this Saturday, November 7, we will be celebrating one full year of wedded bliss.
Even when times are tight, I believe you have to live each day to the fullest, especially the important days… so we’re taking 3 day vacation in Dublin, leaving tomorrow and coming back on Sunday. I can’t wait! It will probably be our last little getaway as just the two of us and it may be the only time I get to Dublin this holiday season.
Here are some of the things we have planned!
- The Four Seasons by Candlelight - concert at The National Concert Hall
- The CHQ building for shopping at Meadows & Byrne and a meal at Toss’d.
- The Irish Museum of Modern Art
- Dundrum Town Centre – shopping at Hamleys Toy Store and a night at the movies!
- Kilmainham Gaol – historic jail used from 1700s to recently
- Two-night Bed and Breakfast stay at the Paramount Hotel in Temple Bar
- Browsing the wonderful foods of Fallon & Byrne
Of course, we plan to do a lot of relaxing as well and maybe a spot of Christmas shopping… but all in all, it should be a great couple of days away. Look out for pictures in an upcoming post!
As I’ve become noticeably lax in my blogging regularity, I will update you now with some pictures of our busy lives over the past few weeks. Besides, anything I might write down from my pregnant brain at this moment might not make sense anyway!
Enjoy.
These are my three beauties – grown in our garden from the seeds of last year’s store-bought pumpkin!
I let Frank carve the big one (inspired by Jack from “Nightmare Before Christmas”) and I took the easy route by painting the littlest. The middle one is cured and saved for future baking!
The Master and his Creation.
Georgie waiting patiently for Trick or Treaters… of which we had 2, almost 3. The first little witch went running as soon as she heard Georgie’s excited bark!
Our 8-month-old niece, Chloe, stopped by to show off her witch costume! She was delighted with herself and couldn’t stop laughing.
Halloween is hardly a breath gone, and yet we’ve already begun to indulge in the joys of the Christmas season… but who could resist? Mince pies and Christmas pudding are definitely growing on me the longer I stay in this part of the world. Mmmmm…
People keep telling us that we should cut down how much attention we give Georgie and try to wean her off coming upstairs with us, so she won’t be shocked when the baby arrives… so far, it’s not working…
Here we are, at October 1. I’ve still got the bedroom windows open a bit, but it’s frosty at night. We’ve lit a couple of fires in the fireplace now and I’ve even worn a winter coat. I have three glowing orange pumpkins still in the garden, waiting to be cut from their vines a little closer to Halloween.
Autumn has come.
We found this old pottery water bottle up in the attic during our most recent clean-out. I think it’s one of the coolest things I’ve seen in a long time! There are no shortage of rubber or plastic water bottles for sale here in Ireland – the winter nights get pretty frigid, and some houses still lack central heating – but I’ve never seen an old one like this. Even the stopper is stone pottery with a sturdy cork on the end. It reminds me of the old clay jugs my grandma used to collect to display around her house. I don’t really know the age of this thing, but it’s a tank, and I can’t wait to fill it some night soon and put it at the foot of our bed.
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I’m just over 30 weeks pregnant now, and for the first time am starting to crave a few things. Nothing crazy, just cereal and ice cream mostly. And it has to be said, though, that the range of choices this side of the pond is somewhat lacking. I’ve cleared out most stores of their Cocoa Krispies and I’ve contented myself with Almond Magnum bars, but sometimes I just pine a bit for any flavour of Captain Crunch, Trix or any cereal with marshmallows in it, or I wistfully imagine a trip to Baskin Robbins or the Pickle Barrel in Bozeman for a large cone of Moose Tracks or Pralines & Cream or Wilcoxin’s Coffee Fudge Ripple (or maybe a scoop of each…).
Most American ex-pats living in Ireland will tell you the same – out of the various pros and cons of being here, there are noticeably fewer choices in many areas. Food, entertainment, toiletries, yoga classes, social clubs, etc. Of course this is not the case across the board – consult the Argos catalogue and you will find 20 pages of different kettles and nearly as many for toasters. There are at least 4 pages for kettle/toaster combos. The freedom of choice is ever apparent when it comes to tea and toast.
Maybe the smaller range is there because someone already tried – maybe “different” doesn’t sell. For though you’ll find 10 different brands of cheddar cheese and only one of parmesan, the cheddar cheese here is uncommonly good. Why buy anything but? We are also living on a small island – the thought of crowding it up with Wal-Marts is a crime, no matter how broad the potential selection could be. Massive Super-Super Markets like Meijer and Target are uniquely American, and as much as we miss them (even if you say you don’t, come on, you do!), they are part of the wide-open-spaces mystique that makes the USA memorable to foreigners. Why else do people fly to New York just to do their Christmas shopping?
The harder side of minimal choices, for me at least, are most apparent when I seek out important needs, like friendships, social groups or churches. The latter has really opened my eyes to how lucky (and lazy) we are in America.
Say you want to go to church in the USA – easiest thing in the world! You can start by choosing a denomination, or maybe you just want something easy-going or close to home. Done! If you live in any mid-sized town in the States, you can find a church that will cater to your every desire.
No more 9 am only services – you can sleep in and go to a 12 pm service, or even 5 or 6 pm. You might even get a church with a Saturday night service. No more dressing up – wear what you like, jeans, miniskirts, it’s all good. Music could be a determinant – choose traditional (organs and hymns), non-traditional (choruses), rock bands, jazz bands, bell-ringers, orchestras or acapella services. Christmas and Easter offer the best free concerts you can imagine – you just have to get there early to find a seat. Or celebrity churches! Who wouldn’t want to rub elbows with Mark Whalberg at Mass? Technology can steer your decision – you can go somewhere with big screens and 5,000 members, or you can meet in an art gallery basement with 10 people holding candles. Food options – many American churches now have coffee bars or, at the very least, donuts and java. Some older churches (think the Deep South) still have potlucks where you can sample dinner from everyone’s house in the neighborhood. Some churches support social causes, send missionaries or speak out in public. Other churches maintain a low profile and operate as insular communes. Then, of course, there is the message, duh, which maybe should have been first. If you don’t like what the preacher or priest says to you, there’s always another place down the road. It is very easy to find somewhere that tells you just what you want to hear. So all that said… who wouldn’t want to go to church?
I know I’m being glib… and I don’t mean to be overly critical or say that choices in church-going are bad. I have merely realized how comfortable and easy it was for me to find a church home when I lived in Indianapolis, and how, conversely, difficult it has been for me to find what I feel I “need” here. In this town of 25,000 people, there are at least 6 Catholic churches, 1 Church of Ireland, and a handful of other Christian churches scattered around. The Presbyterian church I attend is good, but not “ideal,” and I often catch myself grumbling about what I wish it was. So in essence, it’s actually work, sometimes, for me to make myself go. Yet, I still think it’s the place I’m meant to be right now. Maybe faith and worship aren’t always supposed to be easy? Maybe humbling myself and opening my heart to something that’s not my first choice is actually preparing me for… what? God only knows.
Mmm, I could really go for a Root Beer float right about now…
Hurrah for our first (and only) vacation of the summer!
What with the world tightening its belt in this recession (and me loosening mine in pregnancy), we have been unable to take advantage of any travel of late. In fact, we had even booked a week’s trip to Scotland for this very time, but had to cancel for lack of funds. Not to be dismayed, however, we decided to make the best of things and take a shorter, closer holiday to Belfast, Northern Ireland!
You’ll probably notice that some (OK, most!) of the photos were definitely taken by a REAL photographer…
And what a trip it was. We spent nearly two days basking in the city’s glory and found it to be just what the doctor ordered. Even though Belfast is not a two full hours away by train, it truly does feel like a different country at times (which it is and it isn’t – Northern Ireland is part of the UK proper where the Republic of Ireland is not, but still Northern Ireland is and always will be IRELAND!). It’s a fairly new city, comparatively, with most of the famous architecture presented in ornate Victorian splendour. It has a very royal feel about it, in addition to its tumultuous past, and can boast great food, abundant arts, a welcoming population and easily navigable streets. At least, that’s how we felt!
My favorite thing we did was having dinner at Beatrice Kennedy, a lovely little restaurant just down the street from our hotel and near the Queen’s College campus. It’s been soooo long since Frank and I had a really nice dinner out, and this was well worth the wait. Situated in a red brick flat, the homey restaurant seated us at a table by the window with a white cloth and tapered candle. We enjoyed starters of pea risotto with smoked haddock and chicken and asparagus salad with soft-boiled egg and sun-dried tomatoes. Frank had a Moroccan themed lamb with chickpeas and I had roast pork with champ and apple chutney. We shared fresh brown bread, a side of fresh vegetables and, later, a large creme brulee with fruit compote. He had a home-brewed Belfast Ale and I had – oh the luxury! – a single glass of shiraz! All this, including tip, for under £50 sterling (€56 or $81 ) and I was convinced we should eat like this every night!
We packed a lot into the two days we spent “up da Nort,” from St George’s Market to the Royal Botanical Gardens to a couple of really nice meals out to a lot of just walking around the streets of the city centre, taking in the atmosphere (while trying to shed the rain!). All in all, it felt like a real getaway and I know we highly recommend it to anyone!
Every once in a while I like to share with my readers something you may NOT know about Ireland! Today I’m letting you in on the secret of the Irish Travelling Community – something I had never even heard of before moving here and something I am still learning to understand!
Travellers are a minority unique to Ireland, making up at least 21,000 of the 6,000,000 Irish population. (There are also Irish Travellers who have emigrated to Britain and the USA.) They are often compared with Eastern European gypsies because – you guessed it! – they live a nomadic or “travelling” lifestyle and may be referred to as Pikeys, Tinkers, Knackers or Pavees. According to this article, they’ve been documented in Ireland as far back as the 1100s. They were/are traditionally tradespeople, going from town to town selling horses, tinsmithing, collecting scrap metal, dog breeding, paving driveways, selling used goods door-to-door, and so forth.
When I heard about Travellers first, though, it was in a very negative sense. The modern member of the Travelling Community is usually stereotyped as being lazy, shifty, unhealthy or unclean, violent and above all, tacky! Some of the more fair characteristics, perhaps, are the strong family ties, devout Roman Catholicism, occasional inbreeding, very young marriages, extravagant weddings and funerals, low life expectancy, and high percentage of dependency on social welfare. It’s an interesting study… to say the least. The longer I live here, the more Travellers I come across, though I’m still not sure I would be able to pick one out of a crowd, whereas the Irish can usually tell right from the accent and manner of dress. And while I would definitely say some of the stereotypical characteristics do tend to ring true for the majority – i.e. picture two or three very young mothers in tight, bright clothes with big jewelry and heavy makeup – there are always exceptions.
More often these days, we come across “Settled Travellers,” who are the families that have been encouraged by the government to stay in one place, even buying homes and putting their children in school. However, it almost goes without saying that this settlement of a traditionally nomadic culture does not usually take. For the most part, studies have shown that the Travellers who are allowed to keep travelling are much more financially secure, not to mention happier (though the means of their work is sometimes less-than-reputable)! The Settled Travellers, though, tend to flounder and live for even decades on social welfare because they cannot find work in their field.
What then comes next? Lots and lots of animosity from the “host” communities. Travellers are disdained by many of the non-travelling citizens of Ireland and are thus treated with unmasked prejudice! Now, I’m not going to lie – some of their customs and manner of dress ARE completely jaw-dropping! But still not worth the unkindness many suffer.
Overall, it’s a messy and rather sad situation… not dissimilar to the Native Americans in the States or the Aborigines in Australia… except that the appearance of most travellers borders on the lines of what we might call Carnival People in America! The unfortunate thing, as with these other groups, is that it seems very difficult to find an answer to the problem. There is righteous anger on both sides, but I think in the end, the Traveller himself is losing out the most. So many of the Traveller children I see, for instance, are dirty, malnourished, suffering health problems like worms or inability to digest food, and are dotted with scrapes, bruises, broken teeth, eye injures, etc. I believe it’s also something like only 1% of adults who live past 65! So obviously, there needs to be education of some sort, and definitely work to sustain these peoples. There is still the issue of overcrowding in their caravans, even the “settled” ones, and I’m sure that also lends itself to many of the problems at hand.
I’d love to learn more about the positives of Travellers… why their traditions are so important, and what they mean… how they see themselves in society and how they’d like to be seen… what their family histories are like… and what they dream of in a future! For above all these things, the greatest tragedy to me is that the Travellers I do come across seem so devoid of hope and of even wishing for a better life for themselves or future generations.
Well, that about sums it up! Hope you enjoyed this little social studies lesson, haha, and if you are interested further, there are websites below.
Culture Northern Ireland Article
16 Year-old Traveller’s 100K Wedding in England (as seen in picture above)
Blog with Traveller Pictures (warning, author can be a bit mean)
Funny the things I’ve gotten used to here in Ireland – little things that I notice throughout the day that make the time here sweeter.
I’ve discovered I enjoy hanging the wash in the back garden on a sunny day, and I don’t even mind using crispy towels after a shower. I like to hear the whistle of my neighbours’ tea kettles go off every so often, or the musical tones of a clock on the wall or a doorbell ringing. It’s a true community, the way neighbourhoods used to be – we all talk over the fences to each other and probably know way too much about one another’s lives in secret!
I also don’t mind the cats next door as much as I used to. This doesn’t mean I don’t still grumble when I find my plants dug up or when I smell their distinctive odour on a a hot day… but most of the little furry friends are not so bad. They keep Georgie company and some of them are very sweet. Frank and I find ourselves making up names for our favorites and looking out for them during the week – Daisy, the white, brown and black mischievous one; Archimedes, the soft orangey one with the goopey eyes who will let Georgie do anything to him; Ginger Biscuits, another orange tiger striped cat who lets out mournful meows but hardly lets you come close enough to pet him; Deco, the new, lanky white Tom cat with a shaved head…
It’s a nice place to live, though, overall. We help each other out, greet each other on the street, admire our gardens, discuss the prices of home improvements and shake our heads over one another’s misfortunes. Many of the people in this little cul de sac moved here together, back in the 1970s, so they’ve been there for each other for years, and they love to recall the stories. All in all, it’s a good place to be, and I am glad I see that more and more with time.
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On a sillier note… every once in a while, I DO just have to “get back to America” in some form. I revel over a care package filled with things like Saltine crackers, Mac & Cheese, Chocolate chips and Cheetos! When I can’t get a fix like that, I fill the space with my favorite Disney cartoons, or read some Laura Ingalls Wilder, or maybe just play some Tom Petty or Alison Krauss really loud. But the most guilty of all pleasures is when I sneak off to McDonald’s!
I did so on Friday, and treated myself to a Happy Meal, which, as it was intended to do, always lightens my mood. While I was sitting under the Golden Arches though, I thought I’d take note of some differences with the Irish McDonald’s and post my observations here. (Correct me if any of these also apply to USA McDonald’s… I’m going on my last recollections!)
Pros:
- Still make customer service a priority, making them some of the more pleasant establishments to dine in around the country
- Always busy and favored by multiple nationalities
- One in most large towns and at least 6 in Dublin.
- Cadbury Egg McFlurries
- Tastes mostly the same , filling the desire that sent you there in the first place!
- Good “Eurosaver” value menu
- Same or just as good toys in the Happy MealsCons:
- No children’s playplace, in or outdoors
- They charge extra for “healthy” options like fruit or side salads
- People never clean up after themselves, so the restaurants are usually quite messy
- Limited selection
- Often more expensive! About €7- 8 for a value meal, which works out to roughly $10. €4- 5 for a Happy Meal or about $6.
- Small “car parks” and limited drive thrus.
- There is always confusion about how to queue at the counter.So there you go! I also found it funny that they are promoting, throughout the month of July, four weeks of “Great Tastes of America” specialty burgers – New York, Chicago, Miami and Arizona (knowing that most Irish have been to at least one of these places). However, the burgers seem almost identical, at least to me – beef burger with bacon, cheese, lettuce and onions. The only thing they change is the sauce and they alternate the buns. I think the cheeses might be slightly different as well, but c’mon, it’s still American cheese. Haha! Are they selling these in the States now, too?
That about wraps it up for today, folks. Hope you enjoyed – now go out and get yourself a Large Frosty or a Rallyburger Meal for me since there are no Wendy’s or Rally’s on this side of the pond!
