Just Things

Halloween is tomorrow. I am going to be a peacock; a crazy, vogue-esque peacock with fun hair. It thought of it one night when I couldn't sleep because there were people outside of my window, singing (this actually happens a lot. Quite a lot. It irritates me and amuses me at the same time), so I was laying in bed, awake, for a long time. Apparently, Derry is the place to be on Halloween, which is pretty cool, I guess. Oh golly.

I love it here; It's pretty much great all of the time. But I do miss going out to brunch. You can't find French toast in a restaurant to save your life. Or waffles. I could do with a good waffle.

I hear that it is snowing already in Spokane. All I can say is, "Hahahaha! I'm soooo glad that I'm not there!" Not nice, but true. It's actually been super-warm of late; it's almost November and there's been Christmas things out for a month, but it's about sixty degrees outside. Maybe a tiny bit colder. But not much.

I wrote a paper this week. It's awful, but written.

One thing that I especially love about Derry is the doors (and doorknobs). The doors are made of wood and usually painted a fun color, and well over half of them have a doorknob right in the middle of the door. Not on the side. In the middle. I feel like I'm in Wonderland (you know, like Alice. That Wonderland).

An Adventure

Last night I learned that there is a movie called, "Plant a Watermelon on My Grave and Let the Juice Flow Through," and that it is possible to mime to words "Encyclopedia Britannica." It was an epic evening.

I spent the weekend in Portstewart, because I figured that I needed to go out and do something by myself to gain some confidence. So I booked a hostel for two nights and planned to see the Giant's Causeway, Dunluce Castle, and the Old Bushmills Distillery and then go back to Derry as a savvy and experienced traveller. Well, I saw that Giant's Causeway on Saturday morning. It was raining like the dickens and the wind was so strong that my umbrella turned inside-out four times; I ended up being more of black-and-white flowered windshield than an umbrella. The Causeway was nice and magnicifent. I stayed for ten minutes and then wandered around the gift shop for forty-five. Because it was honestly too wet to do anything else with myself. Oh, and I went to a pub (voted best pub in Northern Ireland 2009-2010! Neat!) and got Irish coffee because it was cheaper than anything. And quite delicious. Not as good as Baileys coffee, my new favorite thing, but still good, and I sat by the pub fire and wrote in my journal until the bus came to take me back to my hostel.

Rick's Causeway Coast Hostel is a wonderful place. It has this great front room with a coal-burning (what bliss!) fireplace, and it is full of comfy, squashy chairs covered in white slip-covers. It is also the abode of a large and placid orange-colored cat called (appropriately) Ginger. This is where I sat for most of the day, reading British Cosmo (I was on vacation, okay?) and eating fruit pastilles. Then some lovely and hilarious Irish and Australian people came in, and we played Charades until 1;30 in the morning. And Neesha (A boy. His name isn't actually spelled like that. It has some crazy-cool Irish spelling) and I were Team Awesome. And Sean, Eric and Kathy were Team Redmond, because that was all of their last names, because they were all related. And that's were I learned about the Watermelon movie, because I had to mime it. And I tried out my Irish phrases on Neesha-not-spelled-like-that and Sean, and they laughed (Apparently I can say "Where are your children?" in Irish. It could be useful, right?).

At 2 a.m. a group of slightly-drunk Swiss and German au pairs came in, and we all sat and laughed at each other for a while, and then we went to bed, where I discovered that it almost impossible to sleep, because the au pairs kept whispering in German and then laughing, and I kept wanting to know what they were talking about (I asked them this morning. They said that they were talking about using nose spray. Really), and because there were several Portugese guys in my room, and one of them was snoring really loudly, but it was fine, because I was having such a good time.

Now I am ready for anything.

Christmas Thoughts

Confession: I want to buy a Christmas cake. There is one in Marks and Spencer that I am dying for. I go in just to look at it. It is October, and the stores have been selling Christmas-y foods for the past three weeks. Normally, I would scoff and say, "I can't believe that they are already selling Christmas things! That makes me sick!," but since I've been here, it has felt like Christmas. I don't know. I can't explain it.

A nice red-headed man named Gavin opened a bank account for me today. I almost didn't think that it was going to happen. Ever. And it gets better! I now have ... a library card! Ta Da! There was a warm glow in my soul when the librarian handed it to me. Today was a good day for sure. And on Monday, I can withdraw money, which I will then recklessly spend on all of the things that I have been looking at and wanting to buy for the past five weeks. And also groceries.

I am taking a weekend trip all by myself. I am excited, but I am also afraid that I am going to be terribly lonely and feel really lame, because it will just be me. And people seem to think that people by themselves are lonely and pitiful, and I don't want to make this thought true. I am going to Portstewart for two nights, so that I can finally see the Giant's Causeway and Dunluce Castle and the Old Bushmills Distillery (where they make whiskey. With an "e"). But, I am a strong, independent woman! I am not sad and pathetic! I am great! Yes, that is what I will tell myself.

This solo weekend trip is a test run for me, to make sure that I can travel by myself. My flight back home leaves on the 21st of December, which gives me a week or so after my classes are done in which to go around and do whatever I want. I had big plans for this week; I was going to fly to Paris and eat in a super-fancy restaurant and wander along the Seine and drink exceptionally good hot-chocolate. I really was. But now that I'm here, that sounds a lot harder than it did when I was at home in Portland, surrounded by people that actually know me and enjoy my presence. People that I have history with. So, if anyone feels like flying to Ireland mid-December and travelling around Scotland/England/Wherever-the-heck-we-want, just give me a call.

But if no one wants to (or doesn't have an extra thousand-or-so dollars laying around), it's okay. I understand. Just putting it out there.

Derry>Spokane>North Dakota

I miss very few things about Spokane. It is not my favorite place (understatement), but one thing that I actually, legitimately miss about it is the North Spokane Library. I love that library more than anything. I will always, without fail, find good books there 100% of the time. It's like magic! I was determined to get a Derry library card when I got here, but you need proof of address (phone bill, bank statement. You know. Things I don't have) to get one. Believe me, I tried. They wouldn't even take my passport (who doesn't accept a passport? It's a passport! Come on!) So for the time being, I am making do with various books from the super-cheap bookstore(= great), and the non-interesting/depressing books that I checked out on Stephen-My-Flatmates card. I always get some books that don't look like fun but that will make me look smart when I read them in public. Because I always look at what other people are reading, and I don't want someone to look at me and think that I'm a loser because my book has a dumb cover/could possibly be classified as "chick-lit." I should stop doing this, because once I am done with the funny, interesting books (the ones that I don't read in public), I am left with all of the depressing ones, and frankly, that's not what I need right now.

I love libraries. Today I went to the campus library and did research for two hours. Wow. That is quite impressive, considering that I haven't done any sort of homework at all since May. True story. I don't even feel like I'm in school anymore. Unfortunately, that leaves me with all this free time in the evenings, which is when I get lonely and depressed and look at other people's facebook pictures for hours on end, because I don't have any books to read, because all of mine are literary and depressing.

But, hey. If I'm going to sit in my room and be lonely, at least I'm sitting in my room in Northern Ireland. Infinitely better than sitting in my room and being lonely in Spokane. Because almost anything is better than Spokane! Except maybe Wyoming. Or Nebraska. Or North Dakota. Yeah, Spokane is way better than North Dakota. I've never been there, but I can imagine.

People Thoughts

I think that most people look like animals. Or if not animals, than they look like characters. For example, I know a Peter Pan, a Strawberry Shortcake, and a Dora the Explorer. I also know several bears, a lemur, and a flamingo. My Irish choir director is a gopher. A somewhat volatile, talented gopher who tends towards large, semi-frightening mood swings. One of my professors is a rumply elf, and the other is a cross between a newt and Professor Binns from Harry Potter. Irish girls tend to be mice or rabbits. I'm not sure what the men are yet, but I have seen a lot of elves. We'll see.

Other observations on people:

-All women wear boots, and it's great. I have seen almost no one in a hoodie or in any form of sweats. The girls have very straight, styled hair that always looks good, regardless of the weather. Most of the time, their hair is not it's natural color.

-The old people seem happy. Both times that I've taken the train, it has been full of old married couples and groups of old ladies going shopping in Belfast. They sit in the train seats that face each other and eat packets of crisps and talk about their childrens' problems and what they are going to have for dinner when they get home.

-Kids who swear are funny. Don't judge. You know it's true. But kids who swear in Irish accents are funny and completely adorable. Because they're Irish! And swearing!

Ode to Mullers

From now on, the only groceries that I'm buying are apples and yogurt. Ahhhh, Irish yogurt. Is there anything better? No, and again no. I have tried buying ingredients for actual food (the kind that requires cooking), and it is not for me. Actual food needs too many ingredients. I know that if I buy what I need for say, feta and spinach pie, the spinach is going to stay in the freezer for a month while I debate whether or not I should buy shortening to make crust, and then once I actually actually make the pie, I will eat one piece and then freeze the rest of it, because I feel guilt about throwing away leftovers, but at the same time, I never want to eat them. The pie will then stay in the freezer for the rest of the term, gradually getting freezer burn because my tupperware (free when you get Chinese take-out! It doesn't come in the little pagoda boxes; it comes in tupperware. Very convenient for people who don't want to buy their own a.k.a. me) is too cheap to keep it fresh. Meanwhile, the feta will sit quietly in the fridge, waiting to be eaten, but eventually getting donated to another international student's Greek salad.

Muller's (actually, the name is German. So it has those two little dots over the "u." Just so you know) yogurt, on the other hand, is always fresh, because I eat it too quickly for it to pass it's expiration date. And it comes in so many flavors! Banana-chocolate, strawberry-shortcake, dark-chocolate cherry, and my particular all-time favorite, milk-chocolate digestive. And it is full of protein and calcium and all good things.

I am not going to fight it anymore. Bring on the yogurt! I will eat it every single day and will be a happy girl.

Reasons for Happiness

This morning, I saw a dog with a cone around his neck and a broken leg lolloping happily down the street. I was walking behind two (good-looking) Irish men, and as this dog joyfully limped past, all three of us looked at it and smiled.

All of my "preparing for your time abroad" information warned me that the three week mark is when home-sickness begins to creep in, and things aren't quite as fun and charming as they used to be. I admit, the past few days have not been my best. I blame this mostly on my lack of bank account, which I opened three weeks ago but still can't access. As of now, I have a gorgeous, fat stipend check full of lovely money sitting in my sock drawer which I am unable to cash because Ulster Bank has not yet set up my account.

Aside from that though, I don't really have anything to complain about. In fact, here are some things that have made me happy of late (besides the three-legged, cone-head dog):

-School uniforms. All school kids who aren't at university walk around in them. Adorable little pleated skirts (or pants, if they're male) and knee socks and blazers. It's fantastic. I can't get enough of it.

-My hairdryer. I finally gave in and bought one today-the one that I brought from home threatens to burst in to flame every time I turn it on-at Argos (this store completely baffles me. You look through this huge catalog of products and type little numbers into a calculator-esque thing to see if the product is in stock. After this, there are several other steps before purchasing which I have yet to master. Fortunately, they employee nice (and cute) workers, who always take pity on me. That is why I continue to shop there.)

-Pick and Mix candy at the movie theater. I confess that this is the reason that I want to go to movies. There's about fifty bins of every type of candy that you could possibly want to eat (some of my favorites: foam mushrooms, white-chocolate pig heads, jelly babies, and strawberry toffee), and you get to put whatever you want in a little paper bag, and then the candy-counter guy weighs it for you to see how much it costs. It feels like a Roald Dahl book.

Religion (and elves)

Sometimes I wish that I was Catholic. Today I went to Long Tower Church and sat on a pew, smelling the smells and looking at the crazy-beautiful altar, watching the light come in through the stained-glass windows. Several people came in and lit prayer candles; I wanted to light one, but I didn't feel quite right about it. It looks like a comforting way to pray. Just drop your 20p in the box and light the little wick, and then your prayer is no longer your problem. I took a surreptitious picture of the altar because I liked it so much.


Pretty fantastic.


I have been checking my mail every single day for the past week, and today I finally hit the mail jackpot! Not one, not two, but three (yes, three) letters. And I'm sure that no one was happier about the fact that I had mail than the man who works in the accommodation office. Here in the Duncreggan Student Village, we don't use individual mail boxes. We're much to classy for that. It works like this: every time that you want to check your mail you go into the accommodation office and ask the man who works at the desk there (who looks like he should be working in Macy's Santa Land as one of Santa's little helpers. He would be the bored elf in stripy tights and pointy, bell-toed shoes that puts the little screaming kids on Santa's lap for their annual Christmas photo) if there is any mail for you. Then you stand in suspense while he looks through all of the lovely, fat manilla envelopes and letters, looking for one that might possibly be yours. And then he will invariably say that you have nothing. But not today! No mail-rejection from the accommodation guy for me today!

Speaking of elves, I seriously contemplated skipping Irish today, but in the end I just couldn't do it. My conscience is too guilty to allow me to skip class, and I didn't want to disappoint my adorable, elven professor.

It Is Fall

Most houses in Ireland have little, glassed-in conservatories attached to the back of them, and I understand why. Not only can they use these rooms to grow various sort of potted plants all-year round, but they can also go sit in their window-full rooms and look out on their beautiful country all of the time, regardless of the weather. That way, they never have to miss out on the scenery, even if the weather is bad (which it probably is.) That's what I would do in my conservatory, if I had one.

This weekend has felt like fall. It is fall, technically, but this is the first weekend that has felt like it. Both yesterday and today alternated between furious bouts of rain, and shining, cold bursts of sun. It was the kind of weather that had me freezing and putting my hood up, and then taking off my coat because I was too hot.

I spent yesterday in Antrim. I was planning on just going down to the bus station and getting on a random bus to somewhere that I'd never heard of, but I found an Antrim tourist brochure in the Arts Centre, and I decided that it was a sign that I was meant to go there. So I went there. It seemed like every Irish family that had an unhappy, irritating, screaming small child also decided to go to Antrim yesterday. How nice for me.

Actually, the real reason that I wanted to go to Antrim was because it is the home of a round tower from a 10th century monastic settlement. Which was pretty fantastically awesome. I walked around the tower and touched it, and I thought, "I am touching something that was built over a thousand years ago." It felt nice and kind of holy.

On the train ride back, I eavesdropped on the three old ladies next to me, watched a happily-married couple flirt with each other, and listened to the names of each town that the train was going to stop in being read off in the automated voice of an English women. My favorite
name was Cullybackey. Say it to yourself. Cullybackey, Cullbackey.
It's a fun word, right?

I Don't Know Anything

The United States issues great passports. Each one has a lovely, glossy-golden opening page with an inspirational eagle on it and the Preamble to the Consitution written in blue italics. And it doesn't stop there! Every page is illustrated and numbered for easy access, with various patriotic quotes written above the blue and pink line drawings (there is even one of a bear eating a salmon! Nothing says "America" like bears and salmon.) If you have never had the opportunity to look at a U.S. passport, I highly recommend it to you. It will make you feel patriotic; I guarantee it.

Last night, I learned that I don't know anything about politics (I already knew this, actually. It was just reiterated.) My flatmates were talking about politics. Not just Irish politics, or United Kingdom politics, but English and French and American politics. I was very impressed; I sat there listening to them for an hour without saying anything because they all knew so much more than I did. Then we all pulled out our passports (Me too! I contributed!) and compared the British and Irish passports, trying to decide which was better (The Irish one. Because it has harps on it.) Mine was much admired, which is why I now have this new appreciation for it.

It sounds like the people of Northern Ireland get screwed over by Britain. They don't even get to vote. Pretty lame, right?

"Nothern Ireland is like the red-headed step-cousin of England."

That's what Stephen said. I liked it; it gave me a very clear picture of things.

On a different note, Irish men as a whole, regardless of age, are better dressed than American men. I have not seen a single pair of badly fitting jeans or New Balance shoes. Good job, Irish
men!

Oh, and that is not a picture of my personal passport. Because I am not a middle-aged man. Just FYI.