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!