Last week I had a taste of what it might have been like for me had I taken a job at a large company full of graduates, rather than at a tiny cleaning firm with four office staff, all married men over 35. Alexandra (Andra for short) hails from Romania but understands Spanish very well after years of watching Spanish telenovelas on Romanian television. She met a charming Irishman by the name of Daniel in a pub in Bucharest, and it was love at first sight. Long story short, she followed her heart all the way to Dublin, and here she plans to stay. She's absolutely lovely, intelligent and fun, and a real no-bullshit kind of person (my favourite kind!). Anyway, she'll probably be taking over my job, so we've been working alongside each other the past few days, and will be until I leave. Anyway, she started on Wednesday, and by Thursday night I was already going out to the pub for after work drinks with her and Dan. I met his dad, and his dad's work colleagues, and some friends of Dan's. His dad was super-nice, buying me drinks and when I told him I was thinking climbing Croagh Patrick (a big mountain here in Ireland) he invited me to stay down at his place in County Mayo. Absolutely lovely guy. Andra and Dan left at about half seven, but I stayed to drink and chat with Dan's mates, since I was having a great time. I did get into an argument with a guy by the name of Paddy (that was his real name, I swear) because he started up with the “all Muslims are terrorists” bullshit, which really drives me crazy. When I hear someone saying something so stupid and intolerant, my brain disengages a bit, and I don't stop to think of the consequences, I just tell them exactly what I think. So I told him I thought he was wrong, and he insisted he wasn't, and was surprised that I didn't hate Muslims after the 17 arrests just made back home. I told him that Muslims were just the same as any other religion - some crazies yes, but mainly people like you and me. He didn't like that much. He said, “But they're killing people”. I pointed out that the IRA was similar in a lot of ways. He didn't like that at all. I swear if I was male he would have punched me in the face, but given that he couldn't really hit a defenceless little girl in a crowded pub, he kept a lid on his rage. He denied any similarity between the IRA and Islamic terrorism, with the argument that the IRA were “freedom fighters” against the British invaders. I pointed out that you could paint the same picture of the Iraqis. He shut up after that (after calling me a “stupid eejit” not that I care - to be called stupid by someone so narrow-minded is a twisted sort of compliment) and we agreed to disagree.
Anyway, although things got heated, the argument was quickly forgotten, and I got talking to Sam, an American who, although he loses points for working at Starbucks (my nemesis), gains about a million points for being a totally cool guy. He's a political science major (like me), is ex-military, married (his wife is living in London at the moment) and we had lots of interesting discussions about many different things (no arguments!). By about 22:00 I'd had about as much Guinness as I could take, and I had to work the next day, so Sam walked me to the bus stop (what a sweetie) and I took the bus home. I got talking to Stephane, who was the kindest bus driver I've met so far in Dublin. He hails from a place 60k out of Paris (I don't remember where), so I practised my French a bit and gushed about Paris a bit until I had to get off (Stephane let me off early so I didn't have to backtrack about 1500 metres, what a legend). All in all a totally fun night, and all the more fun because of the sponteneity, and unexpectedness.
Friday night I didn't have any plans bar coming home, eating and sleeping, but thankfully Maria messaged me and saved me from myself by inviting me out with her and Alan, Clarkey and Barry to see a band, Jalopy. They were fun and entertaining, kind of two parts Pulp, one part Silverchair, and add a dash of 70's disco. I swear the lead singer was Jarvis Cocker's evil twin. Afterwards there was a DJ, and even though they were playing “doof doof” music it was great to dance to, and we went crazy on the dancefloor, particularly Alan and Clarkey who were being total clowns and were up on the stage trying to breakdance, pulling each other around the floor, and generally making us laugh hysterically. We walked home in the freezing, freezing cold and I stayed the night at Maria's, since both her flatmates are away at the moment. We had girly chats, she showed me some photos of mutual friends, and we fell into bed.
Saturday morning I slept late, which, strangely, I don't enjoy as much as I used to. Back home it wasn't unheard of for me not to surface until after midday. Now that I get up at seven in the morning for work, I find that on the weekends I can't stay in bed much past 08:00. I just feel like the weekends are so short, it'd be a waste to spend so much time in bed! I read a copy of “El Jueves” of Maria's and nearly killed myself laughing - it's a bit like MAD magazine, but it's actually funny rather than stupid. I don't always get the jokes, or understand every word, but to be honest I rather surprised myself with how much I did understand. Looks like hanging around with Maria has improved my Spanish somewhat, which is lucky considering soon I'll have to speak nothing but Spanish for five weeks! A scary prospect, but if I managed it the last time I visited Argentina, I can definitely do it now.
I'm looking forward to my South American sojourn for so many reasons. First of all, and most importantly, to reconnect with my extended family. As they will surely attest, I am hopeless at keeping in contact while I live so far away. Part of that is because I'm embarassed at how little Spanish I speak (though hopefully that side of things should have improved) and part of it is pure laziness, and a proclivity for procrastination. Yes, I will write that email...later! Furthermore, last time I was in Argentina I was about 14 or 15 years old, and frankly just a child (though I thought I was all grown up)! It will be great to get to know my family as a woman, not just as a little girl, and I think that will be an interesting aspect for them too - to see how much I have changed in these years. One of the coolest things will be getting to spend Christmas with them - that's always when I miss them most.
The second thing I'm looking forward to is getting to know my home city on my own terms. The first time I went back, as previously stated, I was just a child, and therefore was escorted everywhere and shown the sights by a well-meaning adult. This was perfect for that time, but now that I'm a little older, and somewhat more politically aware, I'm looking forward to checking out Buenos Aires solo (well, some parts at least) and discovering more of the “hidden” city as well as finding the “vibe” of the city of my birth. Last time around I felt at home there immediately (huge crowds notwithstanding - how do you fit 11 million people in one city?) but I was too young and stupid to pay real attention to my surroundings. This time I will not waste this golden opportunity to get to know the city, particularly as it forms such a large part of my identity. By the way I hope Buenos Aires has a modern art gallery. (If you will permit a small digression here, a couple weekends ago I went to the Museum of Modern Art here in Dublin, and they had an exhibition of Latin American art that was absolutely amazing - I wish you could all see it).
The third thing I'm looking forward to is the hot weather. I am sick and tired of wind! I don't mind the cold here so much, but the wind is driving me insane as it lowers the effective temperature at least five degrees. I can't wait to go somewhere where staying inside on a sunny day isn't a criminal offence, because the next day is just as likely to be sunny, and the next, and the next...
Fourthly, the Peru trip. Thanks to Robyn Brentnall, my high school Theatre Arts teacher, who, in Year 10, picked “The Royal Hunt of The Sun” as the yearly play, I've been fascinated by the Incas. They were brutal in some ways (sacrificing young virgins and things) but in many ways they were the ideal communist society - everything is shared, everybody works until a certain age, then they are looked after by the community until they die. Plus they had the legendary streets paved with gold and all that crap. Anyway, Pizarro came along with all his testosterone and machismo and killed the Inca, massacred most of the population, melted down most of their intricate artefacts into gold bars, and took over Peru, and that particular civilisation was ruined. But some relics remain, and that's what I'm dying to see. Hopefully that should give me some further insight into how the Incas lived than books, which are fallible, after all.
Last but not least, I'll get to see my father, mother and brother, which will be great after six months apart.
My flatmate Sabrina is coming home from Paris today after a week there. We've all missed her and her exiteability and sweetness. Plus it's much quieter with only three people in the flat. I hope she stayed safe with all the rioting and such going on at the moment. I've got some time off these three days while we leave Andra at work by herself for a few days to see how she fares. So it's three days of relaxation and trip planning for me - it feels like Saturday morning for me again! This morning I'm going to treat myself to a Full Irish Breakfast - eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, black pudding. I know it's a one way ticket to a coronary, but I've been meaning to do it since I got here six months ago and I haven't yet, so I feel like now is the perfect time (I love indulging myself when I'm supposed to be somewhere responsible like work or school, but I've managed to get out of it for some reason). Plus espresso coffee, which I haven't had for ages now because it's so expensive. Mmm, can't wait.
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