Okay, time for the list of things I love about Dublin:
1. It's so small. I can walk EVERYWHERE. No need for a car which is a relief since the driving here is...well, let me put it this way. Up until a few years ago you didn't need to pass a test here to get a driving license, you just applied for one and got it. That said the cars here have a lot of respect for pedestrians, who cross the street all over the place at any time (we hark back to the traffic light phenomenon). I walk to work, I walk to Temple Bar, I walk to the shops, I walk to the bus stop if I want to go far away. It totally rules to be able to go out at night and not have to worry about who's going to be the designated driver.
2. The people here are totally friendly. I've had more conversations with random strangers here in Ireland than anywhere else. Granted not all of them have been with Irish people, but I guess the culture rubs off. The other day on the bus this German couple didn't have the right change, so this random girl on the bus is like, "Does anyone have change for €5?" And someone did, and everything was ok.
3. Grafton Street on a sunny day. It's a pedestrian street, with buskers and all, lots of crowds, lots of cool shops (for window shopping only) and the famous statue of Molly Malone at the top of the street (totally underwhelming).
4. It's cosmopolitan, like Melbourne, but it's a different mix of people. Back home it's Italians, Greeks, and Asians. Here there's a few Asians but mainly stacks of Spanish and Polish people, which makes things interesting. I know the Spanish people come to Dublin because companies recruit them over in Spain and pay their relocation costs to come here, but what the hell all the Polish people are doing here I have no idea. Well, actually, the fact they get paid €2 an hour back home and here minimum wage is €7.50 an hour may have something to do with it.
5. This has nothing to do with Dublin as a city, but I love the freedom I have here. It's a sort of limited freedom, since my work restricts me a lot, but basically I answer to no one. I do what I want, when I want, with my own money, have my things, I can satisfy my every whim (within reason). It's totally hedonistic and I love it. Clearly the novelty will wear off soon but I'm enjoying this string-free life while I have it.
6. The Spire. It makes me laugh every time I see it (at least twice a day going to and from work). What is it? A huge phallus, right in the middle of O'Connell Street. The biggest, shiniest, pointiest pointy-sticky-uppy thing you have ever seen. And it's completely useless. It does nothing, except stand there and look pointy and shiny. Why did they build it? Who knows. I can't wait till I have a camera and can take a picture of it to post here.
7. Guinness here is about one thousand times better than Guinness back home. I assume this is self-evident, but I thought I might just put it down to make sure.
8. The accents. Not too many Irish ones, to be sure to be sure, but enough to keep me entertained. I'm still terrible at imitating it, but I should improve with time. Sometimes I have trouble understanding it, which is a bit worrying, since I'm not even in the country, where the accents are as thick as two planks. The poor Spanish and Polish people must have no hope.
9. At any given time there is a 90% chance there is an Oscar Wilde play being performed that day in Dublin. I'm going to see "The Importance of Being Earnest" soon. That play cracks me up. "A Ha-a-andba-a-a-ag?"
10. The Irish Times. Well, it actually irritates me a bit too, because it tends to be a bit repetitive, which gives one the impression that there's not enough news to fill a whole broadsheet in this country. Which is patently untrue, since every day I open it up to find a fresh gruesome murder has occurred somewhere in the Republic. Not to mention road deaths which are sky-high (16 in less than 24 hours last weekend - see my notes on Irish driving licenses above). But it's a bit more lively than "The Age" - the journos here have a bit more of a sense of humour. The letters to the editor are longer here too, which is nice, but it means they don't have as many. At the moment the big news stories are:
*The upcoming IRA statement to be released later this week (allegedly), which (allegedly) contains a statement to the effect that the IRA will be dismantling all its weapons and will proceed to "liberate" Northern Ireland through non-violent means only. The Irish Government's reaction to this (alleged) statement is "Fat chance, they've said that a million times before".
*A leaked document from Aer Lingus that outlines a policy to try to force people to take voluntary redundancy packages (as opposed to sacking people, an IR disaster) by making them work crazy shifts with lots of overtime, changing the uniform to something tacky, giving pilots menial desk jobs, and basically making life difficult until everyone got sick and tired of working for them. Totally illegal of course, and more of an IR disaster than firing the 1200 would have been in the first place. (Though I hear that John Howard and co. are making an IR mess for themselves. Somebody has to stop them!)
*Five people jailed for protesting a Shell gas pipeline which they say is a danger to the health and safety of the residents living near it.
Anyway that's what's going on in Ireland at the moment. Of course they've got lots about London, and that poor Brazilian chap (I am absolutely LIVID about this whole "shoot first ask questions later" policy) and about the Galway races. The Irish are obsessed with racing.
Well, there's a lot more things I love about Dublin, but I think 10 is enough for now. It's a Bank Holiday on Monday, so long weekend for me! I think I might go to Belfast. I've been dying to go there since I got here. I'll keep you all updated.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
"Accio Inspiration!"
For the second time in two days I've sat down in front of the computer to write this blog and my inspiration seems to have vapourised. Therefore I have decided I will share with you some of the things I love about Dublin and some of the things I don't love quite so much about Dublin. But first a little lowdown on my weekend.
I had a fabulous time - another non-stop party weekend after which I needed another weekend to recover. The highlight was the house party I went to in Blanchardstown on Saturday night, where I spent most of the night deeply engrossed in conversation with Pim, a totally awesome guy from Holland. Dutch people are so incredibly cool. They are generally more liberal, more relaxed, and more knowledgeable than any other nationality I have encountered so far. Of course that is a huge generalisation, and should be taken with an enourmous hunk of salt, but that's the impression that I get. Dutch and Scandinavian people have no idea how cool they are - and Dutch people are even cooler into the bargain because they aren't so reserved as the Scandinavians, so they are much easier to get to know. Before you ask though (you know who you are) no, I am not interested in Pim, he's not my type (a right-wing voter...eeeek!). True to my idiotic nature I didn't think to get his phone number or email address or anything before I left, so I will probably never see him again. The flames of another potential friendship doused before the blaze had even got going.
Moving right along to the next most exciting thing to happen last weekend - the moment I have been waiting for for over a year. Yes, the release of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince". Originally the plan was to wait one week until the price of the book had halved, which is what usually happens, but guess how long it was till I caved? About 24 hours. And it was so totally worth it. I read it cover to cover on Sunday, and am currently re-reading it because, well partly because it was so incredible (the second best I think in the series after "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban") and partly because I don't have anything else to read. I am bursting to talk all about it, but if I ruin another Harry Potter ending for someone I think I'll just have to ban myself from reading books ever again, and nobody wants that. (By the way Bri and Tim, I still feel bad about that. SORRY!)
Well, it turns out I had a little more inspiration than I thought I did. Anway, onto my little lists. Some of these will be directly related to Dublin as a city, some of them will be more about me and how I am in Dublin, and don't reflect of the city at all. Firstly, things I don't love about Dublin and the life here:
1) I know I've brought this up before, but it's so expensive. The worst thing is everything looks like it's a reasonable price, until you convert it. Today for example, I went to buy a coffee, and it was 1.80, which looks cheap, until you do the mental calculation and in Aussies that's about three dollars. Which, actually, now I think about it, is about the price of a coffee in Australia now, at least at Flinders St. Station, so I should shut up and stop whingeing. Trust me though, other stuff is expensive.
2) There's no rubbish bins. Strange but true. You put all your rubbish in big black bags and you put a sticker on them and put them out for collection. You have to pay for the stickers (2.50 each!) too. Anyway the part I really don't like is the fact that as we don't have bins or skips or anything for the apartment block, you have to keep your rubbish in your apartment all week until collection day. Thankfully we have a tiny balcony so we can at least have it outside, but it still stinks, literally and figuratively.
3) Addresses here are weird. Some areas have postcodes, some don't. Some have no street numbers. Some have two different streets on them. Some have a county on them, some don't. Lord knows how the mail gets from A to B in this country but it seems to work. The Irish seem to understand the system but I sure don't.
4) Again I've mentioned this but I feel compelled to go into more detail because anyone that knows me well knows how much this irritates me. The traffic lights here are completely insane. Whoever came up with the traffic light system in this city was either totally crackbrained or completely drunk. I hate, hate, hate, crossing against the lights. But here it is a necessity as the traffic lights will halt all traffic so that there's not a car going through the intersection, yet the little red man prevents you from setting foot on the bitumen. You stand on the sidewalk like an idiot with a perfectly clear path in front of you for about a minute. Of course the second you decide, "stuff it - I'm crossing", the lights change and there's cars all over the shop. After the lights have allowed every car in Dublin ample time to make it through the intersection, including all the grannies and grandpas, you finally get the green man. Of course by this time you could have designed and built a scale model of the Eiffel tower out of matchsticks, but at least you've made it over the road. To cut a long story short I've gotten over my phobia and now I don't bother to even look at the lights, I just walk onto the street if I think I can scurry across in time. Incidentally that's a key indicator of a tourist in this city - all the stunned mullets lined up at the kerb while all the locals stroll nonchalantly across the road (on which there are no cars of course, since all the lights are red, but the pedestrian lights are not green for some reason).
5) Internet coverage. Look, I'm not being unreasonable here. I don't live in the sticks. I don't expect anyone to unroll miles and miles of cable solely for my benefit. But (as the Marias would say) COME ON! I live smack bang in the middle of the city. My postcode is "Dublin 1" for crissakes. You'd think I'd be able to get connected! What is the deal??
Well, I'm running out of time here. I'll leave the list of things I love about Dublin for the next post (trust me, there's lots more of those). Now it's time for sleeping, ready to attack another workday tomorrow (Thursday, almost Friday, then Saturday, the most magical day of the week!). Till then, good luck, have fun!
I had a fabulous time - another non-stop party weekend after which I needed another weekend to recover. The highlight was the house party I went to in Blanchardstown on Saturday night, where I spent most of the night deeply engrossed in conversation with Pim, a totally awesome guy from Holland. Dutch people are so incredibly cool. They are generally more liberal, more relaxed, and more knowledgeable than any other nationality I have encountered so far. Of course that is a huge generalisation, and should be taken with an enourmous hunk of salt, but that's the impression that I get. Dutch and Scandinavian people have no idea how cool they are - and Dutch people are even cooler into the bargain because they aren't so reserved as the Scandinavians, so they are much easier to get to know. Before you ask though (you know who you are) no, I am not interested in Pim, he's not my type (a right-wing voter...eeeek!). True to my idiotic nature I didn't think to get his phone number or email address or anything before I left, so I will probably never see him again. The flames of another potential friendship doused before the blaze had even got going.
Moving right along to the next most exciting thing to happen last weekend - the moment I have been waiting for for over a year. Yes, the release of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince". Originally the plan was to wait one week until the price of the book had halved, which is what usually happens, but guess how long it was till I caved? About 24 hours. And it was so totally worth it. I read it cover to cover on Sunday, and am currently re-reading it because, well partly because it was so incredible (the second best I think in the series after "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban") and partly because I don't have anything else to read. I am bursting to talk all about it, but if I ruin another Harry Potter ending for someone I think I'll just have to ban myself from reading books ever again, and nobody wants that. (By the way Bri and Tim, I still feel bad about that. SORRY!)
Well, it turns out I had a little more inspiration than I thought I did. Anway, onto my little lists. Some of these will be directly related to Dublin as a city, some of them will be more about me and how I am in Dublin, and don't reflect of the city at all. Firstly, things I don't love about Dublin and the life here:
1) I know I've brought this up before, but it's so expensive. The worst thing is everything looks like it's a reasonable price, until you convert it. Today for example, I went to buy a coffee, and it was 1.80, which looks cheap, until you do the mental calculation and in Aussies that's about three dollars. Which, actually, now I think about it, is about the price of a coffee in Australia now, at least at Flinders St. Station, so I should shut up and stop whingeing. Trust me though, other stuff is expensive.
2) There's no rubbish bins. Strange but true. You put all your rubbish in big black bags and you put a sticker on them and put them out for collection. You have to pay for the stickers (2.50 each!) too. Anyway the part I really don't like is the fact that as we don't have bins or skips or anything for the apartment block, you have to keep your rubbish in your apartment all week until collection day. Thankfully we have a tiny balcony so we can at least have it outside, but it still stinks, literally and figuratively.
3) Addresses here are weird. Some areas have postcodes, some don't. Some have no street numbers. Some have two different streets on them. Some have a county on them, some don't. Lord knows how the mail gets from A to B in this country but it seems to work. The Irish seem to understand the system but I sure don't.
4) Again I've mentioned this but I feel compelled to go into more detail because anyone that knows me well knows how much this irritates me. The traffic lights here are completely insane. Whoever came up with the traffic light system in this city was either totally crackbrained or completely drunk. I hate, hate, hate, crossing against the lights. But here it is a necessity as the traffic lights will halt all traffic so that there's not a car going through the intersection, yet the little red man prevents you from setting foot on the bitumen. You stand on the sidewalk like an idiot with a perfectly clear path in front of you for about a minute. Of course the second you decide, "stuff it - I'm crossing", the lights change and there's cars all over the shop. After the lights have allowed every car in Dublin ample time to make it through the intersection, including all the grannies and grandpas, you finally get the green man. Of course by this time you could have designed and built a scale model of the Eiffel tower out of matchsticks, but at least you've made it over the road. To cut a long story short I've gotten over my phobia and now I don't bother to even look at the lights, I just walk onto the street if I think I can scurry across in time. Incidentally that's a key indicator of a tourist in this city - all the stunned mullets lined up at the kerb while all the locals stroll nonchalantly across the road (on which there are no cars of course, since all the lights are red, but the pedestrian lights are not green for some reason).
5) Internet coverage. Look, I'm not being unreasonable here. I don't live in the sticks. I don't expect anyone to unroll miles and miles of cable solely for my benefit. But (as the Marias would say) COME ON! I live smack bang in the middle of the city. My postcode is "Dublin 1" for crissakes. You'd think I'd be able to get connected! What is the deal??
Well, I'm running out of time here. I'll leave the list of things I love about Dublin for the next post (trust me, there's lots more of those). Now it's time for sleeping, ready to attack another workday tomorrow (Thursday, almost Friday, then Saturday, the most magical day of the week!). Till then, good luck, have fun!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Life in the fast lane
If my life was a movie, this would be the montage part with the 80s pop music in the background. You know, shot of Lucia going to work, shot of Lucia working hard, shot of Lucia laughing with friends, shot of Lucia collapsed on the couch, with an Aretha track or something over the top.
It feels like a montage because I've crammed so much into the last week and a half that I feel like I've been living my life in fast forward. It feels especially incredible because when I left Australia I felt like I was living it frame by frame. Work has been a crazy ride so far. Sometimes the pressure is incredible (payday, when everyone wants to be paid but nobody gives me the sheets telling me how many hours they worked), and sometimes I'm doing menial, brainless tasks, which I love, because I can let my mind wander a little. I'm slowly learning accounting, by trial and error, which is the worst way to do it, because every time I make a mistake it's recorded for ever on the company ledgers. Oh well, they're the ones that didn't want to explain to me how it works.
I'm getting used (slowly) again to getting up early. It takes me about an hour to get to work each day, but to be honest I don't mind it at all. In the morning I like the walk to the Luas station (about 40 minutes) because it wakes me up. The Luas is a big tram line that takes me to within a five minute walk of work. It costs 3 euro for a return ticket though, which sucks. In the evening I like it because I walk along Grafton street, which is a pedestrian street, with heaps of buskers and things, all playing that really bad soft rocky kind of easy listening music, which is perfect for that time of the day because you've been at work for eight hours and you've been awake for 11 hours and easy listening is about all you can handle right then. The only problem arises when they try to do Beatles. Just today there was a guy massacreing "Across the Universe". Why do they do that? So I leave work and before the dizzying high of being free for the day wears off, I walk along Grafton Street and the music and the crowds put me in a good mood, and then I cross the river, making sure not to get run over (I don't remember if I've talked about this before, but here in Dublin it's legal to cross against the lights, probably because if you had to wait for the green man, the sun would go supernova before you made it across the street) and walk up O'Connell street (the main street on the North side) and Parnell Street, pick up some groceries at the Aldi if I need to, and turn into Bolton Street to go home.
I finally got all the stuff I had sent over from home - but what a debacle! I had planned on leaving work at 1:00 to make it to the airport by 3:00 (the place supposedly shut at 5:00). Anyway my boss said I could leave when he got back at 2:00, but he didn't get back till 2:30, so already I was running late. The buses here in Dublin are notorious, they're infrequent, frequently late, sometimes early, never on time, and sometimes they never turn up at all. In addition you have to have the exact fare in coins, no change is available. Anyway it's stinking hot (at least 30 degrees) and I'm dressed in my work clothes (long black pants and long sleeved shirt) racing up O'Connell Street to the bus stop. Miraculously there was a 16A due about five minutes after I got to the stop. I asked the bus driver to let me know when we were at Furry Park industrial estate, which was where British Airways Cargo is. He said "Sure sure!" but next thing I knew we were at the airport which is where the bus terminates. Great. So I took a taxi to Furry Park industrial estate, which cost me 16 euro for about 2 miles. I get there, and they tell me to fill out some form, and that I have to take it to customs to get stamped before they can release my stuff to me. Where is customs? At the airport, 2 miles away. Not wanting to spend another 16 euros on a taxi, I asked how long it would take to walk there. They reckoned about 20 minutes, at a conservative estimate. At this stage it was just after 4:30. I said, "Well, I'll run then!". "In this heat?" they replied. But I had no choice. I had already left early that day, there's no way I could get another afternoon off. So, in the searing heat, I ran the two miles to the cargo terminal at the airport, and made it there at about two to five. They stamped my form, and it occurred to me that I didn't have my passport with me (they only ask you to bring ID, not a passport specifically, but you know, if you don't bring it, they'll ask for it). In the end they didn't even ask me for ID which is good since the goods were being sent to Lugia Fernondes, whoever she is. Then, as I was still panting for air, they're like, "I don't know why you're in such a hurry. You can get this form cleared up until 6 o'clock". I didn't have the energy to feel angry at them, or the BA people for feeding me the BS that it shut at five, or at the world for conspiring against me, since I still had the two mile walk back to the BA freight offices. I turned up there about half an hour later, soaking with sweat, dehydrated, hair frizzy and messy, generally dishevelled and gasping for water. Thankfully the BA chick was totally cool and let me use the staff kitchen and bathroom to get myself some cold water and then she let me into the offices to sit in front of the fan in a comfy chair to wait for the taxi rather than wait out in reception in the hard chairs. The taxi from the airport to the city centre only cost me 12 euro (less than from the airport to two miles from the airport. Just goes to show, never take an airport taxi, always call one). I could have taken the bus but it drops me about 15 minutes walk from my place and I couldn't face another walk in that heat with 26 kilos of baggage. Anyway I felt a lot better when I unpacked all my stuff. It was like getting a big present! I packed all this stuff 2 months ago so I'd totally forgotten what I put in there. Of course, I packed all wrong. I listened to everyone telling me how terrible the weather in Ireland would be, so now I have 6 jumpers and a massive warm coat, 5 pairs of pants, and it's 30 degrees outside. I didn't pack even one skirt. Oh well, back to Penneys (yay!) It also seems as if I've lost some weight since I've left Australia since everything that used to fit is too big on me - today I had to hold my pants up as I walked to and from work because they sit so low! Better get a needle and thread and take them up. I got a big kick out of spinning some of my CDs, and I've got my computer too now, so soon I'll have an internet connection, and this blog might actually get updated more than once in a blue moon! I'm just too tired most days after work to walk to the internet cafe (including today, but I just couldn't leave it any more!).
Here's something funny. I have to issue a warning though. I am going to talk about girly things, so if you have a Y chromosome and you think women's personal hygiene is icky, perhaps you had better skip this paragraph. I bought a new brand of pads the other day, and have since discovered that they've got stuff printed on the wrapping. They're like fortune cookies with the fortune on the outside. Today I had one that said, "Plan important meetings in the middle of your cycle. Your oestrogen levels will get you super-motivated and make you more productive". What on earth is that? Career advice on sanitary napkins? I couldn't help laughing out loud, I hope nobody heard me.
The situation at home is still peachy. I can't seem to get the hang of cooking for one, so I've been eating the same curry since Sunday. I've had it with korma now! Usually we share but the other girls don't like curry (strange but true). Shelley, our new Chinese housemate, is a great cook so sometimes I steal some of her food. Ony thing with her is, she snores! What with her and the fact that it gets light here at like 4 am it's a wonder I ever sleep. I'm already using those little patches you get on aeroplanes, I'm going to have to get earplugs as well. Ah, they joys of shared housing. But all in all, I still really like my flat and my housemates. Shelley doesn't smoke either, and it's amazing how much difference that makes to the air in the flat, having half and half, rather than 3 smokers vs. one non smoker. On Sunday I actually felt the first twinges of homesickness since leaving home, because Maria B's in Amsterdam, and Maria M and Shelley were working (yes, not only on a Sunday, but on a beautiful sunny day). I had a great day reading in the park, (though I got sunburnt) but all that time alone meant I had too much time to think about home. Not to worry, after I got into the swing of things at work on Monday I was fine and have felt great since then.
Anyway, I'm beginning to fall asleep in front of the computer (I made the mistake of checking my email first and then had to write several replies before I made a start on this blog entry) so I'd better sign off here. Hope you are all taking care of yourselves, there's still lots I haven't covered, particularly as regards my social life, but that will have to wait until next time. Au revoir!
It feels like a montage because I've crammed so much into the last week and a half that I feel like I've been living my life in fast forward. It feels especially incredible because when I left Australia I felt like I was living it frame by frame. Work has been a crazy ride so far. Sometimes the pressure is incredible (payday, when everyone wants to be paid but nobody gives me the sheets telling me how many hours they worked), and sometimes I'm doing menial, brainless tasks, which I love, because I can let my mind wander a little. I'm slowly learning accounting, by trial and error, which is the worst way to do it, because every time I make a mistake it's recorded for ever on the company ledgers. Oh well, they're the ones that didn't want to explain to me how it works.
I'm getting used (slowly) again to getting up early. It takes me about an hour to get to work each day, but to be honest I don't mind it at all. In the morning I like the walk to the Luas station (about 40 minutes) because it wakes me up. The Luas is a big tram line that takes me to within a five minute walk of work. It costs 3 euro for a return ticket though, which sucks. In the evening I like it because I walk along Grafton street, which is a pedestrian street, with heaps of buskers and things, all playing that really bad soft rocky kind of easy listening music, which is perfect for that time of the day because you've been at work for eight hours and you've been awake for 11 hours and easy listening is about all you can handle right then. The only problem arises when they try to do Beatles. Just today there was a guy massacreing "Across the Universe". Why do they do that? So I leave work and before the dizzying high of being free for the day wears off, I walk along Grafton Street and the music and the crowds put me in a good mood, and then I cross the river, making sure not to get run over (I don't remember if I've talked about this before, but here in Dublin it's legal to cross against the lights, probably because if you had to wait for the green man, the sun would go supernova before you made it across the street) and walk up O'Connell street (the main street on the North side) and Parnell Street, pick up some groceries at the Aldi if I need to, and turn into Bolton Street to go home.
I finally got all the stuff I had sent over from home - but what a debacle! I had planned on leaving work at 1:00 to make it to the airport by 3:00 (the place supposedly shut at 5:00). Anyway my boss said I could leave when he got back at 2:00, but he didn't get back till 2:30, so already I was running late. The buses here in Dublin are notorious, they're infrequent, frequently late, sometimes early, never on time, and sometimes they never turn up at all. In addition you have to have the exact fare in coins, no change is available. Anyway it's stinking hot (at least 30 degrees) and I'm dressed in my work clothes (long black pants and long sleeved shirt) racing up O'Connell Street to the bus stop. Miraculously there was a 16A due about five minutes after I got to the stop. I asked the bus driver to let me know when we were at Furry Park industrial estate, which was where British Airways Cargo is. He said "Sure sure!" but next thing I knew we were at the airport which is where the bus terminates. Great. So I took a taxi to Furry Park industrial estate, which cost me 16 euro for about 2 miles. I get there, and they tell me to fill out some form, and that I have to take it to customs to get stamped before they can release my stuff to me. Where is customs? At the airport, 2 miles away. Not wanting to spend another 16 euros on a taxi, I asked how long it would take to walk there. They reckoned about 20 minutes, at a conservative estimate. At this stage it was just after 4:30. I said, "Well, I'll run then!". "In this heat?" they replied. But I had no choice. I had already left early that day, there's no way I could get another afternoon off. So, in the searing heat, I ran the two miles to the cargo terminal at the airport, and made it there at about two to five. They stamped my form, and it occurred to me that I didn't have my passport with me (they only ask you to bring ID, not a passport specifically, but you know, if you don't bring it, they'll ask for it). In the end they didn't even ask me for ID which is good since the goods were being sent to Lugia Fernondes, whoever she is. Then, as I was still panting for air, they're like, "I don't know why you're in such a hurry. You can get this form cleared up until 6 o'clock". I didn't have the energy to feel angry at them, or the BA people for feeding me the BS that it shut at five, or at the world for conspiring against me, since I still had the two mile walk back to the BA freight offices. I turned up there about half an hour later, soaking with sweat, dehydrated, hair frizzy and messy, generally dishevelled and gasping for water. Thankfully the BA chick was totally cool and let me use the staff kitchen and bathroom to get myself some cold water and then she let me into the offices to sit in front of the fan in a comfy chair to wait for the taxi rather than wait out in reception in the hard chairs. The taxi from the airport to the city centre only cost me 12 euro (less than from the airport to two miles from the airport. Just goes to show, never take an airport taxi, always call one). I could have taken the bus but it drops me about 15 minutes walk from my place and I couldn't face another walk in that heat with 26 kilos of baggage. Anyway I felt a lot better when I unpacked all my stuff. It was like getting a big present! I packed all this stuff 2 months ago so I'd totally forgotten what I put in there. Of course, I packed all wrong. I listened to everyone telling me how terrible the weather in Ireland would be, so now I have 6 jumpers and a massive warm coat, 5 pairs of pants, and it's 30 degrees outside. I didn't pack even one skirt. Oh well, back to Penneys (yay!) It also seems as if I've lost some weight since I've left Australia since everything that used to fit is too big on me - today I had to hold my pants up as I walked to and from work because they sit so low! Better get a needle and thread and take them up. I got a big kick out of spinning some of my CDs, and I've got my computer too now, so soon I'll have an internet connection, and this blog might actually get updated more than once in a blue moon! I'm just too tired most days after work to walk to the internet cafe (including today, but I just couldn't leave it any more!).
Here's something funny. I have to issue a warning though. I am going to talk about girly things, so if you have a Y chromosome and you think women's personal hygiene is icky, perhaps you had better skip this paragraph. I bought a new brand of pads the other day, and have since discovered that they've got stuff printed on the wrapping. They're like fortune cookies with the fortune on the outside. Today I had one that said, "Plan important meetings in the middle of your cycle. Your oestrogen levels will get you super-motivated and make you more productive". What on earth is that? Career advice on sanitary napkins? I couldn't help laughing out loud, I hope nobody heard me.
The situation at home is still peachy. I can't seem to get the hang of cooking for one, so I've been eating the same curry since Sunday. I've had it with korma now! Usually we share but the other girls don't like curry (strange but true). Shelley, our new Chinese housemate, is a great cook so sometimes I steal some of her food. Ony thing with her is, she snores! What with her and the fact that it gets light here at like 4 am it's a wonder I ever sleep. I'm already using those little patches you get on aeroplanes, I'm going to have to get earplugs as well. Ah, they joys of shared housing. But all in all, I still really like my flat and my housemates. Shelley doesn't smoke either, and it's amazing how much difference that makes to the air in the flat, having half and half, rather than 3 smokers vs. one non smoker. On Sunday I actually felt the first twinges of homesickness since leaving home, because Maria B's in Amsterdam, and Maria M and Shelley were working (yes, not only on a Sunday, but on a beautiful sunny day). I had a great day reading in the park, (though I got sunburnt) but all that time alone meant I had too much time to think about home. Not to worry, after I got into the swing of things at work on Monday I was fine and have felt great since then.
Anyway, I'm beginning to fall asleep in front of the computer (I made the mistake of checking my email first and then had to write several replies before I made a start on this blog entry) so I'd better sign off here. Hope you are all taking care of yourselves, there's still lots I haven't covered, particularly as regards my social life, but that will have to wait until next time. Au revoir!
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Irish times
How was my first day at work you ask? Pretty damn great. I got there at 8:45 to find the place locked and nobody there. I waited till half past nine when someone finally came to let me in. The boss came in at 10 or 10:30 and gave me the grand tour (the whole office is the size of a small flat, so it didn't take long) and something to do. Invoicing is a breeze, and I imagine doing the payroll won't be very difficult either. They've just moved into this new office, so everything is straight out of the box - new computer, printer, photocopier, fax, shredder, you name it. There's even a state-of-the-art phone system that nobody really knows how to use properly. I'm gonna have to do training in it. Other than that I started on a Friday so it was pretty quiet, and Monday is going to be an interesting proposition. Despite that, I'm sure soon I'm going to be able to do this job blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. It makes me a bit angry actually as I feel like I'm probably overqualified for this job, but there's no way I could get something more challenging, because of my lack of experience. I guess that's what they mean when they say you have to work your way up.
On the way home after work I was walking along Grafton Street, and this woman asks me, "Do you drink gin and tonic?" and I was like, of course! She explained they were doing market research into gin and tonic, and if I wanted to I could try four different gins, give my opinions on each, and at the end they'd give me €10. I was like, where do I sign up? So I was full of gin and €10 richer when I found out the bad news of the day...it's going to cost a minimum of €180 to get my camera fixed. I figure for that price I'll just get a new one. Honestly, I know capitalism creates a "disposable society" where planned obsolescence makes you constantly have to buy new items, but this is ridiculous. Nobody knows how to fix things any more, you just throw it away and buy a new one. If you do find someone who can fix it, it costs as much as a new one anyway, or more. When I first got to Dublin and was going for interviews, I only had the one shirt with me. I wanted to get it cleaned, but it would have cost €7.50. I went to Penneys and bought a new one for €3, a 60% saving. Unbelievable.
Yesterday one of my flatmates, Diana, went home to Holland. We went to the airport to say goodbye, and it was quite sad, but the doleful mood was soon shattered by blind panic when we weighed Diana's luggage and it was 24 kilos. On Ryanair they only let you take 15, not a gram more, or you have to pay. Anyway, to cut a very long story short, Maria and I went home with 11 kilos of Diana's stuff in a big bag. Our new flatmate, Shelley, moved in in the afternoon. She's pretty nice, and she's Chinese, so we should be having some yummy stir fries in the near future. She's going to show me where you can get chinese dumplings for 50c each! She's also got heaps of illegally ripped movies but hopefully I won't turn into too much of a couch potato.
Then last night, the moment I've been waiting for...I finally met some Irish people! Hurrah! Again, they're friends of Maria. We had a quiet pint in a great pub next to the Liffey called The Bachelor, and watched Live Aid. There was Maria and I, "Clarkey" (who's first name I can't remember...Carl or something), Allan, an interesting guy born and bred in Dublin, Owen, another city boy (an intellectual, yay!) who has spent a lot of time in Spain and speaks great Spanish, and Miguel, a photographer from Argentina who now lives in Barcelona. He's having an exibition of his photographs on Monday (political photographs from Communist countries...how fascinating) so that's going to be awesome. After the pub we went back to Allan's place (he lives in a huge Georgian house about five minutes from my flat. But his place is really lovely) and had some 10 year old single malt scotch whisky. I'm never going to be able to look at a bottle of Jameson the same way again. It's just not going to cut the mustard next to this stuff, it was delicious! But way out of my price range, so Jameson it will have to be until I'm rich and famous. We had great conversations about politics, ecology, rock festivals, drugs, reggae vs hip hop, you name it, until about 2am when Maria and I decided we'd go home. All in all I had a pretty great day. Today is shaping up to be pretty good too, I'm going out for lunch, then tonight we're going to see a movie, "We Don't Live Here Anymore" with Mark Ruffalo (I looove him). Tomorrow is the beginning of my first week of full time work. Scary, but I think I'll be able to handle it.
On the way home after work I was walking along Grafton Street, and this woman asks me, "Do you drink gin and tonic?" and I was like, of course! She explained they were doing market research into gin and tonic, and if I wanted to I could try four different gins, give my opinions on each, and at the end they'd give me €10. I was like, where do I sign up? So I was full of gin and €10 richer when I found out the bad news of the day...it's going to cost a minimum of €180 to get my camera fixed. I figure for that price I'll just get a new one. Honestly, I know capitalism creates a "disposable society" where planned obsolescence makes you constantly have to buy new items, but this is ridiculous. Nobody knows how to fix things any more, you just throw it away and buy a new one. If you do find someone who can fix it, it costs as much as a new one anyway, or more. When I first got to Dublin and was going for interviews, I only had the one shirt with me. I wanted to get it cleaned, but it would have cost €7.50. I went to Penneys and bought a new one for €3, a 60% saving. Unbelievable.
Yesterday one of my flatmates, Diana, went home to Holland. We went to the airport to say goodbye, and it was quite sad, but the doleful mood was soon shattered by blind panic when we weighed Diana's luggage and it was 24 kilos. On Ryanair they only let you take 15, not a gram more, or you have to pay. Anyway, to cut a very long story short, Maria and I went home with 11 kilos of Diana's stuff in a big bag. Our new flatmate, Shelley, moved in in the afternoon. She's pretty nice, and she's Chinese, so we should be having some yummy stir fries in the near future. She's going to show me where you can get chinese dumplings for 50c each! She's also got heaps of illegally ripped movies but hopefully I won't turn into too much of a couch potato.
Then last night, the moment I've been waiting for...I finally met some Irish people! Hurrah! Again, they're friends of Maria. We had a quiet pint in a great pub next to the Liffey called The Bachelor, and watched Live Aid. There was Maria and I, "Clarkey" (who's first name I can't remember...Carl or something), Allan, an interesting guy born and bred in Dublin, Owen, another city boy (an intellectual, yay!) who has spent a lot of time in Spain and speaks great Spanish, and Miguel, a photographer from Argentina who now lives in Barcelona. He's having an exibition of his photographs on Monday (political photographs from Communist countries...how fascinating) so that's going to be awesome. After the pub we went back to Allan's place (he lives in a huge Georgian house about five minutes from my flat. But his place is really lovely) and had some 10 year old single malt scotch whisky. I'm never going to be able to look at a bottle of Jameson the same way again. It's just not going to cut the mustard next to this stuff, it was delicious! But way out of my price range, so Jameson it will have to be until I'm rich and famous. We had great conversations about politics, ecology, rock festivals, drugs, reggae vs hip hop, you name it, until about 2am when Maria and I decided we'd go home. All in all I had a pretty great day. Today is shaping up to be pretty good too, I'm going out for lunch, then tonight we're going to see a movie, "We Don't Live Here Anymore" with Mark Ruffalo (I looove him). Tomorrow is the beginning of my first week of full time work. Scary, but I think I'll be able to handle it.
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