When in Ireland, Make the Leap

I think the moment I saw a Ferris wheel in Ireland was the first time I’ve truly ever felt happiness.

I’m joking, of course. If you know me, you know that I’m a sucker for carnivals: the creepy music, the kids nearly killing each other in bumper cars, the middle-aged operators who wink when you board a ride meant for small children. Pretty magical, right?

There’s a carnival in Dun Laoghaire (pronounced “Done Leery”) and it’s so reminiscent of America that I forgot for a moment that I was 3,000 miles away. I even saw a Texas flag hanging in someone’s backyard, which made me miss the overbearing southern pride I used to come across back in the states. Dun Laoghaire is such a wonderful place, and we had a grand old time wandering down the pier and eating frozen yogurt on the rocky beach.

There’s also an area called “The Forty Foot” in the town, which is basically this giant rock that people jump off of into the freezing waters of the Irish Sea. It’s not really forty feet high, but it’s still not the safest thing in the world considering the rock is slippery and there’s always a nagging thought in my head that tells me there are sharp, pointy rocks hiding underneath the water.   At the same time, cliff jumping has always been something that I’ve wanted to do, and I leapt at the chance to cross something off of my bucket list.

Jumping off of the 40 Foot.

So leap, I did. 3 times, actually (see terrifying photo to the right).

That night, we returned home on the train with our bellies full of some of the best bar food we’ve ever had (salmon and mashed potatoes—yummm) and headed over to a local jaunt to watch the World Cup.

The next day provided even more strenuous physical activity: hiking in Glendalough (I pronounced it “Glen-duh-loo to my coworkers this morning and they laughed at me).   It’s a 2-hour bus ride up to the Wicklow Mountains, and my bad planning included me not applying sunscreen before I left.  As we hiked up the thousands of steps to the peak, my skin baked red as a lobster around the distinct outline of my tank top.  Now, I look like a broiled zebra. That’s an image.

Planning.  It’s something I’m usually very good about, considering the anxiety I feel when something isn’t ready or complete, but ever since I’ve been in Ireland all I want to do is relax and be spontaneous. It’s probably a good change in me, despite the fact that plane tickets do tend to rise in price when you wait until the last minute to book them…yeah, they don’t care so much about spontaneity. They just love money.

On that note, I’ll pass on a lesson that I learned this weekend: book plane tickets months in advance, bring water everywhere you go, and don’t be afraid to spend money on things you really want to do. I’m going to attempt to be prepared this week and try to book tickets to Scotland as well as a music festival in July, and we’ll see if I have enough determination to get those things squared away. Or maybe I’ll just relax some more.

Until next time!

Enjoying Good Craic.

Yesterday, someone told me they thought an American accent was "musical".  I was, in a word, appalled.

Maybe you think I'm being too harsh on Americans, but I tend to always think that our voices are plain or rough-sounding.  I think Irish accents are wonderful, and they've been lovely to listen to the whole time I've been here, but perhaps Dubliners don't register them as such.  Perhaps it depends on the person or how well you listen, or maybe it's just in the eye of the beholder.  Or, well, the ear.

I know that's a strange thing to notice-- accents-- but for me, everything that's different is a novelty.  I think that's the stage of culture shock right before the actual oh my god what I am doing here I must go home immediately shock, so I'm looking forward to that coming up next (not).

Fries (chips) and mayo (Photo credit: SheepGuardingLlama)

I also know that Dublin is probably very similar to most bustling American cities, but for now, it doesn't feel that way.  At this point, everything seems like such a drastic change. For example, mayo is milder, and you eat it with french fries covered in vinegar (which is an actual yum, but I think I've mentioned that already.  Have I?  It's just so good.  Get ready for me to mention it 1,000 more times)  People say "plait" instead of "braid", "cheers" instead of "thanks", and "grand" instead of "great", and they curse like sailors even in the workplace. Wild-berry Skittles unfortunately are not as good, and I think it's because they're made with less sugar (which is a TRAVESTY).  The sun doesn't set until 10:00 pm.  Dogs are tiny and NEVER leashed, and pigeons share their territory with annoying squawking seagulls.

I keep making jokes about my American-ness to anyone who will listen, like how I always want large portions of things and am loud on the bus.  What I didn't really realize, though, is that stereotypes are stereotypes no matter where you go, and just like rational minds in the US, people try to avoid believing everything they hear here.  In fact, a lot of Dubliners love Americans, and I've noticed so much how people on the street, coworkers, and shop workers all want to help me on my journey here.

And speaking of coworkers, I'm also finished with my first week of work at The Writer's Guild of Ireland (and don't worry, I'm writing this on my lunch break).  It's been an interesting experience thus far, mostly because I'm learning all about the Irish film industry and it's a side of writing I've never really explored before.  It's all independent work so far as well, but then again, I tend to prefer that sort of thing.

Yesterday, the sun came out, and I guess that doesn't happen very often since everyone in town flipped out and ran away from work.  My boss took the day off and advised everyone to do the same just so that we didn't waste a rare day of sun in Dublin.  Of course, used to the beauty of Colorado, I stayed and worked like the diligent intern I am (har de har).  I did think it was funny, though, considering we'd never leave work for the 300 sunny days of the year we get back home.  It just shows how much the Irish value craic (that just means fun- nothing fishy).

After work, a couple of friends and I did find some time to enjoy the sun as well.  We met up at a grocery store after work and grabbed some hot sandwiches, and then went down to a park called St. Stephen's Green where all the students hang out. We sat on the grass, took off our shoes, and threw sandwich crumbs at fat birds.

A group nearby played guitar and the sun was streaming through the trees, and it was just one of those perfect evenings where you thank yourself for having the guts to try something new and to go somewhere that might be scary or far away.

So thanks, past self.  You're a gem.

Until next time!