One Wet Foot and Other Stories

There is only one thing worse than having two cold, wet feet, and it is having only one cold, wet foot. Unfortunately, I discovered that truth this weekend when I was in Dublin. I have this great, super-cheap, pair of brown boots, which I have used so much in the month since I bought them that I have worn a whole in one of them. Only one, not the other. This means that I can't wear them in the rain because the rain will soak through the hole and give me an uncomfortably wet foot. One wet foot is infinitely worse than two wet feet. I know, this sounds wrong. One dry foot should make me happy! At least they're not both wet. I should be counting my blessings instead of complaining. You might be thinking that right now. Well, you're wrong! One dry foot taunts you; it makes you want your wet foot to be just as happy as your dry foot. It makes things uneven. With two wet feet, you can walk anywhere you want and step in any amount of water, and it doesn't matter because both your feet are soaking anyway. But, if one is dry, you have to constantly be avoiding puddles so as to not wetten the dryness, while at the same time feeling (and hearing) your toes squish in your sock that is contained in your other boot. It's terribly distracting, and it keeps you (or at least me) from enjoying myself fully because I am constantly thinking, "I wish I had dry feet. This would be so much better with dry feet..."

Putting all that aside, I went to Dublin this weekend, and it was nice. It was nice to be in a big city, and it was nice to see people walking on the streets after seven o'clock, and it was nice to go into a cafe at nine at night and still be able to order coffee (and still have it be open). It was nice.

Some things that happened:

-The Guinness museum. Quite good. To be honest though, the architecture of the museum was more interesting than the museum itself (at least to me). I liked learning about Guinness, don't get me wrong. I just didn't need five floors of museum to learn about it. I was done learning after two floors (not counting the one that had the gift shop on it). By the third floor, I just wanted to get to the top so that I could retrieve my free pint of Guinness. Eventually I did, and it was excellent, but the bar was too cold to enjoy it as it deserved to be enjoyed.

-Walking. Lots of it. But in a good way.

-Fantastic bruschetta. I couldn't even believe how good it was. I didn't know that bruschetta could be so good.

-Getting carded. For the second time in my life (they didn't even card me on my birthday. Lame!). But they carded me in the the Three Crowns Alley Pub in Temple Bar. I also ordered brandy there. Just brandy. I'm not sure why I wanted to; probably because I was cold (I had this vision of a St. Bernard reviving an avalanche victim with the brandy that it had carried to the victim over a treacherously snowy mountain pass. So I figured that it must have the warming properties which I needed, due to my one wet foot). And the brandy was... strong. And sweet with a soapy aftertaste. I could drink about half, and then the aftertast got the better of me. I can't drink soap.

Post-Thanksgiving

I've stopped taking notes in history classes. There's no point to the notes; I'm not going to be here for the exams and my essays are done, so really, when am I ever going to use them? Never. That's when. Plus I hate taking notes. I can't listen and write at the same time. So instead, I sit in class and draw little pictures, and I make lists of people that I need to buy presents for, and what I am going to make for the Christmas party that I am co-hosting next week (bread pudding, truffles, and wassail.) I feel like it is a good use of my time.

Thanksgiving was the my big obstacle. And now it's over, and I'm relieved and ridiculously proud of myself. Relieved because now I don't have to think about it any more ever again. And ridiculously proud of myself because I made (on my own, single-handedly, with-no-help) *ahem*:
two roast chickens, apple-raisin stuffing, buttery pan rolls, pecan pie, apple crisp, walnut-cranberry-blue-cheese salad, sweet potatoes (delicious), and cranberry sauce! (Hold for applause).

And I arranged a cheese and cracker plate!

Whew.

It was a good day, and now I am done. But now the time is really flying by, which makes me both happy and sad. Thanksgiving was the hump in my semester. Now that I'm over the hump, I feel like I need to start paying attention to every little thing so that I don't forget any of it.

And in the spirit of not forgetting, here is a picture of my all time favorite shop window in Derry. I walked by it every day for two weeks without taking a picture. But I finally did, because I don't want to forget it. I don't even know what this store sells (lamps? Home decor?) but they sure do know how to decorate a window:

Now that's class!

Thanksgiving

On Thursday, I am cooking a turkey. I have never cooked a turkey. I have never cooked any type of meat that still has bones in it. I can do chicken breasts; I can do fish, but can I do turkey? I guess that we'll find out...

I can't decide if I am excited for Thanksgiving or not. On one hand, I am excited to cook a whole bunch of food for people that aren't just me. I don't get to do this often (a.k.a. never). Cooking for one person is boring, so I eat a lot of eggs and yogurt and toast and soup from cans, and when I have money, I eat chicken. Because it's depressing to make some super-good dish that you're really excited about because it's so good and then have to eat it all by yourself. So I'm excited to cook. It will also give me something to do for the next two days, since I have now written all four of my essays (that was my homework for the entire semester. Write four essays. That's it. Now I'm done, and I don't know what to do with myself).

On the other hand, the thought of Thanksgiving kind of makes me want to get into my bed, curl into fetal position and eat a giant bar of dark chocolate while watching "Sex and the City- The Movie." This is a tempting, tempting option. I really just don't want to think about the fact that I am not at home during a major holiday; I don't want to think about the fact that I am thousands of miles away and trying to make a holiday happen all by myself. It overwhelms me and sort of makes me want to cry.

That is why I have invited a random assortment of French and German international students, plus my flatmates (and some of their friends?) over for a traditional, American Thanksgiving. I will not be pathetic and sad on a holiday. No, no, no. As much as I want to be pathetic and sad, I will not be. Instead, I will go out and buy sweet potatoes and canned pumpkin puree, and yes, even a turkey (if I can find one. They have to sell them somewhere, even in Northern Ireland. It's not that behind the times), and I will make Thanksgiving. And hopefully, the turkey will be fully cooked, since I have no meat thermometer. And hopefully, the random assortment of people will mix well and be friends. And hopefully, I'll be busy enough that I won't be sad, and it will be a fun day that I'll look back on and think, "I'm glad that I made Thanksgiving all by myself."

My New Philosophy

I have different philosophies for different situations. In fashion, my philosophy is "less is more" (incidentally, this is not the philosophy of the women of Derry. Their fashion philosophy is probably something along the lines of "wear it with confidence!" But hey, kudos to them for bravery). In social situations, my philosophy is "go with the flow." In Derry, my philosophy is "just say yes" (oddly enough, this is also a song by The Cure which has been stuck in my head for the last two months).

So far, this philosophy has proved surprisingly effective and has brought me many interesting and fantastic things including two (possibly two-and-a-half) dates, free breakfast from a man who may or may not have wanted to sell me pot, and membership on a pretty excellent pub quiz team. Just to name a few.

Tonight, I had planned to sit in my bed, eat candy, and watch all six hours of "The Tenth Kingdom." but because of the above mentioned philosophy, that was not what I ended up doing Well, I did actually eat candy and watch "The Tenth Kingdom." But only for three hours, not six.

Instead, I went a play about The Troubles. It wasn't really a play, because the people in it weren't actors; they were normal people who told their own stories, but it was presented in an artistic, scripted way. It was absolutely the most moving theatre that I have ever seen. It kept me choked up, almost on the verge of tears throughout the whole thing, and I'm not a crier. In a word, it was a good, good play. I was happy that I had said "yes."

How to Get Irish Men to Think That You Are Cute- A Guide For American Girls

-Talk to them in your cute American accent-
Yes, it’s true. You have a cute American accent. This is the huge advantage of going abroad. You get automatic cuteness points just by speaking. Let me tell you, it’s great. It doesn’t matter what you say; just say it within earshot of an Irish boy, and they will think that that you are cute. Personally, I like to use the question method. It goes something like this:
Me: (said while smiling apologetically) Excuse me, could you tell me where the post office is?
Cute Irish Boy: Aye, it’s just around the corner. Are you American?
Me: Yes.
Cute Irish Boy: I’ll take you!
Me: Oh, thank you so much!
Etc., etc. You get the picture.
-Tell them that you speak Irish-
Okay, so this one has a catch. After you say that you speak Irish, they will invariably ask you to say something. And they will think that you are hilarious and cute when you do say something. So you have to know at least a couple of things. But have no fear! I am providing you with some easy to learn and oh-so-handy Irish phrases! Here are some useful ones to know (written phonetically. Because Irish is a crazy language, and it’s looks nothing like it sounds. The spellings are insane):
-Caw-jay more-ah tah-too?= How are you?
- Tah-may go moy.= I am well.
-Aw-will too shingle?= Are you single? (because it’s useful)
-Aw-will too poiw-shtee= Do you have children? (because you never know)
-Ah-fig ah-foisht= Post office (because it’s fun to say)

Really, that’s about it. Or as a last resort, go to a pub and talk loudly within earshot of a cute Irish boy. Then wait for him to ask you if you are American. When he does ask, tell him that you are actually Canadian. And then he’ll feel bad, so he’ll buy you a drink. And who knows what could happen from there?

I Don't Do This at Home

I never leave my flat without my umbrella. Ever since it has turned too cold to wear my raincoat, my umbrella is my constant companion and new best friend. It is made of clear plastic and has black and white trim around the bottom. It looks like I am wearing a jellyfish on my head when I have it open. I have never been an umbrella carrier before; even in Portland, where it rains all the time, I usually just brave the wetness, but here, I don't. Instead, I take my umbrella out with me and swing it jauntily as I walk.

Before now, I avoided malls like the plague. But I make an exception here. In fact, I probably go to the mall once a week. Or maybe twice a week. Perhaps even three times. Because they are Irish malls, not American malls. So they are obviously much better and more entertaining.

Actually, this is true. Everyone goes to the mall in Derry. It's the hip-happening place to be, especially on a Sunday afternoon. Everyone and their grandmother (and their small, screaming children) are at the mall. Not just the teenagers. Everyone. And I think that that is why I go there. It's great for people watching. It's also the absolute best place to go when I want to be around people, but not with people. At those times, I go to Starbucks in Foyleside shopping center, and I sit at the table in the middle (with the chessboard on it), and I write in my journal/ read a book/ spy on the people around me. Because it's an Irish Starbucks, not an American Starbucks. So it's obviously much better. And they serve fairtrade coffee. So there you go. I also have a teeny crush on one of the baristas (I have dubbed him 'Damian'). He is adorable. Actually, way too good-looking for me (but I don't actually know him, so it's fine).

I have gone to at least one movie a week for the past eight weeks. I even saw 'Couples Retreat' (shameful, I know). I never go to movies at home unless they cost $6 or less, or if they are cool, semi-indie films that are playing at Fox Tower. But here, they only cost four-and-a-half pounds! Which sounds cheap (I never convert back to dollars. I prefer to live in ignorance). And the candy is fantastic. And there aren't that many other things to do, except go bowling. Sidenote: Derry is home to the nicest bowling alley on the planet. It is awesome. There is an actual, real, Spaghetti-Factoryesque restaurant! Inside the bowling alley! What!?!.

And Now...Christmas

Santa has come to Foyleside shopping center. He brought with him a two-story, white plywood castle, a "Christmas Grotto," and at least three very short, men (women?) dressed in reindeer costumes. And a lot of twinkly icicle lights and Christmas cheer.

Derry is holiday-crazy city. It has at least, at least, five Halloween costume stores just on the main road, and there was an entire, full-size haunted house inside of the mall. It was Halloween in the beginning of September, and now that Halloween is over, it is instantly Christmas.

At first, this worried me a little bit. What was going to happen to all the Halloween stores? Where there owners going to starve? Or maybe they were going to migrate south for the winter? But then I realized that all the costume shops had converted (overnight!) to “Christmas Shops.” Phew.

Just a little piece of Christmas magic, I guess.

Every time that I walk down Strand Road, I notice that they have put up more decorations. It started small; just some subtle lights here and there, but now that we have passed the Halloween hurdle, there is no restraint. In the middle of the day, grown men are standing on ladders in the street, wrapping tinsel around lamp posts. Don't they have jobs that they need to be doing? How do they have all of this free time?

I like it.

I have never been one of those people who could listen to Christmas music at the beginning of November; it seems so wrong. What about Thanksgiving (just because you don't get any presents, and it celebrates that fact that Americans basically wiped out the Native American population, is that any reason to shortchange it? Come on, what's better than the Horn of Plenty and a rousing chorus of "We Gather Together?")? Doesn't Thanksgiving get it time to shine? It has always been a hurdle that prevents me from having early-November Christmas joy.

But they don't have Thanksgiving here. So that's not a problem anymore. I can celebrate Christmas from November 1st onward, and no other holiday is going to get its feelings hurt! I can download "All I Want For Christmas Is You," and listen to it continuously on my iPod for a whole day! And I can watch "Love Actually!" Twice!

I am liberated!

And soon, I shall buy a Christmas cake. What a great day that will be.

Reminders For Me

Sometimes I forget that I am in a different country. Everything feels so naturally normal now that I occasionally need to remind myself that I am in a new place, and it's great. Whenever I forget where I am or stop appreciating the fact that I am somewhere else, I sit and listen to the people around me talk. Even though I've been here awhile now, I still can't get over the accent. Every single Irish man gets automatic attractiveness points, just for the accent. And there are so many different ones (Derry is the hardest to understand; Belfast is musical). Yes! And I love the distinctly Irish phrasing of things. And that people say "cheers" instead of "thank you" and "what's the craic" instead of "what's up." And "youse!" I certainly do love "youse." I wish that I was cool enough to start using Irish phrases, but I don't think I am. Besides, I have to keep sounding American so that people will think that I'm exotic and interesting (Hahaha. Not).

If I was going to start smoking, swearing, or drinking a lot, this is the place where I would do it. I bet that a good third of the people here smoke, and they make it look cool. Smokers in America have sort of "social pariah" stigma about them; that is not the case here. I know a ton of people that smoke. I bet that half of my friends here do. And even though every single pack of cigarettes has a warning on it that says "SMOKING KILLS" it doesn't seem to faze anyone. Hmmm... it's an interesting phenomenon.

They also swear. A lot. But it's friendly swearing! I really enjoy, actually. If someone calls you a f***ing b****, it means that they like you. In fact, if people aren't swearing a lot, it makes me feel uncomfortable. It probably means that something is wrong, or that people are trying to be super-polite because I am an American. And that's no fun.