Blogging at last, blogging at last. Thank God almighty, I'm blogging at last!
It feels like it's been forever since I updated this little ditty. But you know what I've come to realize? Blogging is hard sometimes. Writers block does indeed exist. And sadly, recently inspiration only comes to me in the forms of my morning shower, as I'm falling asleep at night, or when I'm buzzed from one and one half glasses of wine. So unless I want to combat this with writing my ideas on the shower wall with shaving gel or by carrying a notepad around with me to the pub (which most likely I would have to tie around my neck as to avoid losing it from drunkenness and risk looking like a total loony) then it looks like I'm stuck to writing an entry when it's just plain convenient. Or, when I've checked my facebook at least 10 times in one hour and have run out of things to browse on the Internet.
Here is a bit of trivia for all of you. Tomorrow is Tuesday here in Ireland as it is in most places of the world (unless you're in China or something, and it's already Tuesday there and therefore, tomorrow is Wednesday, right?). But this Tuesday is much different than all of the other Tuesdays that have come before it this year. Here in the Republic of Ireland and the UK tomorrow is "Shrove Tuesday" or "Pancake Tuesday."
Funny how this day should come up after I composed my post about Irish breakfast cuisine.
If I knew that Pancake Tuesday existed a month or so ago, I would have without a doubt included it as a topic in my breakfast post.
Honestly, I haven't got a a clue what the story behind Pancake Tuesday is. And quite frankly, some of the Irish don't as well (hey at least I fit in there!). So in my curiosity I turned to the all knowing (whether it be fabricated or embellished a bit, who cares?) website that is wikipedia. I began reading through the web page and got to the second paragraph and then began skimming. I saw the words "protestant" and "Fat Tuesday in the U.S.A." and stopped there. Most likely because I'm convinced that I have some form of adult A.D.D. Anyway, I gathered that Pancake Tuesday probably has something to do with lent and religion and sins and all that jazz. Right? I don't know, go look it up.
In any case, the good news for me is that pancake mix DOES exist in Ireland! And they have many styles including crepes or American style pancake mix. I picture these American style pancakes to be 3 inches thick and at least 1,000 calories per flapjack. To top it off, each one has been diagnosed with heart disease and high cholesterol. What, that doesn't sound like the picture of American pancake health to you?
In addition, apparently there are different ways to dress your pancakes on Pancake Tuesday. No, I do not mean in pancake Jimmy Choos. I told my friends my favorite way to eat pancakes is with butter and a little maple syrup. I also explained that I liked bananas in my pancakes. You know, the classic banana pancakes. They looked at me and explained that syrup was strictly reserved for American pancakes and then proceeded to ask me if I like to have my pancakes with "feckin ice cream and sugar." I guess they have a point. So, if pancakes here aren't matched with syrup, then what the hell do you put on them? Apparently lemon and sugar is popular as well as nutella. I also read in a magazine this past Sunday about a recipe for savory pancakes which included crepes stuffed with onion, sage, thyme and other things I don't know how to prepare.
So, apparently I can't get my pancakes and syrup for breakfast anywhere...still. But I can get mix to make them at home when I want to. And better yet, I can get them once a year with cheddar cheese, garlic chutney, and roasted red pepper to obtain absolution for my sins . No thanks, I'll hold out for my visits back home to the local IHOP.
I asked Darren yesterday if he wanted to have pancakes for pancake Tuesday in which he hastily replied, "hell no." We did our weekly shopping tonight and purchased all the makings for spaghetti bolognese for tomorrow night's dinner. It's spag bol Tuesday at our place tomorrow. Who needs fancy pancakes anyway?
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Habla el Irish?
As my assimilation into Irish culture continues (for the long term that is), I find that I'm experiencing "what the hell?" moments less and less. Great for the adjustment process, bad for the blog.
I find myself using Irish terminology way more than its American counterparts. It's much easier to converse with my Irish friends and pseudo family when I use their words. While I feel like I'm sort of losing my American vocab and sort of selling out, it's also kind of fun to stop and notice myself speaking like everyone else here. Don't worry, there is no accent yet. At times, I can hear myself picking it up and when that happens, I try to compensate by sounding REALLY American.
Anyway, I just wanted to share with you some of the words that have recently entered my vocabulary. And if I'm not saying them yet, I'm sure I will be soon.
Examples:
1. Bin. A bin is a trash can. Don't forget to bring the bins up every week for the rubbish collection.
2. Rubbish. Normally, I'd say "trash" back home in the states.
3. Cinema. It's Friday night and there's not much going on. Back in America I would call my friends and say "hey do you want to go to the movies?" Here it's, the "cinema."
4. Film. If you saw a trailer on t.v. during an average commercial break, you might find yourself leaning over to your lover and saying, "that movie looks great." Would this happen in Ireland? No. Here you'd find yourself saying "I want to see that film." Please note that "film" is pronounced "fil-im."
5. Holiday. This is equal to the word "vacation." Madonna knew that one. Do you?
6. Tele. This is a word that I often use over here. For example, as I'm writing this I have the tele turned on for background noise. Did you figure it out yet? "Tele" is the same thing as "T.V."
7. Nappy. I don't understand this one and in fact, I still feel a little silly when I say the word "nappy." We call it a "diaper" in America. It's so much more official sounding in America. I wonder where "nappy" came from.
8. Buggy. This is the same as a stroller.
9. Boot. Your spare tire is not in the "trunk" it's in the boot.
10. There is no word equivalent to "freeway" and I find that annoying.
11. It's not a "cell phone" in Ireland. It's a "mobile."
12. Yesterday I called the two stands next to our bed "night stands" Darren corrected me and told me they were "bed side lockers."
13. During the holiday season, all I heard was "Santy! Santy Claus. What is Santy bringing you?" I'm sorry, when did we drop the last "a" off Santa and add a "y"?
14. In addition to the above, I also heard "Did you get me a pressie?" No, but I bought you a "present."
15. The word "pet" is often used as a term of endearment. Hmm...
16. If you'd like a towel for your shower, you can find one in the "press." Not the hall closet or the cabinet, the "press."
17. Immersion. Everyone should you tube Des Bishop and watch his comedy sketch on this topic. It's hilarious! You see, in older homes in Ireland (and some newer ones) you basically have to flip a switch in the "hot water press" to have hot water when you shower. Our house is not like this, but Darren grew up in a house like this. Basically they tell you to "turn on the immersion." Can you imagine being here for the first time and having someone tell you this?
18. "Cot" is the same as "bed."
19. A "jumper" is the same as a "sweater" and a "hoodie" is what the Irish call a hooded sweatshirt.
20. Excuse me but where is the bathroom? I'm not sure what you're talking about because here we say "the toilet." So literal. Way to go Ireland.
So there are 20 new words that you can all add to your vocabulary! I hope you all found this entry educational.
I find myself using Irish terminology way more than its American counterparts. It's much easier to converse with my Irish friends and pseudo family when I use their words. While I feel like I'm sort of losing my American vocab and sort of selling out, it's also kind of fun to stop and notice myself speaking like everyone else here. Don't worry, there is no accent yet. At times, I can hear myself picking it up and when that happens, I try to compensate by sounding REALLY American.
Anyway, I just wanted to share with you some of the words that have recently entered my vocabulary. And if I'm not saying them yet, I'm sure I will be soon.
Examples:
1. Bin. A bin is a trash can. Don't forget to bring the bins up every week for the rubbish collection.
2. Rubbish. Normally, I'd say "trash" back home in the states.
3. Cinema. It's Friday night and there's not much going on. Back in America I would call my friends and say "hey do you want to go to the movies?" Here it's, the "cinema."
4. Film. If you saw a trailer on t.v. during an average commercial break, you might find yourself leaning over to your lover and saying, "that movie looks great." Would this happen in Ireland? No. Here you'd find yourself saying "I want to see that film." Please note that "film" is pronounced "fil-im."
5. Holiday. This is equal to the word "vacation." Madonna knew that one. Do you?
6. Tele. This is a word that I often use over here. For example, as I'm writing this I have the tele turned on for background noise. Did you figure it out yet? "Tele" is the same thing as "T.V."
7. Nappy. I don't understand this one and in fact, I still feel a little silly when I say the word "nappy." We call it a "diaper" in America. It's so much more official sounding in America. I wonder where "nappy" came from.
8. Buggy. This is the same as a stroller.
9. Boot. Your spare tire is not in the "trunk" it's in the boot.
10. There is no word equivalent to "freeway" and I find that annoying.
11. It's not a "cell phone" in Ireland. It's a "mobile."
12. Yesterday I called the two stands next to our bed "night stands" Darren corrected me and told me they were "bed side lockers."
13. During the holiday season, all I heard was "Santy! Santy Claus. What is Santy bringing you?" I'm sorry, when did we drop the last "a" off Santa and add a "y"?
14. In addition to the above, I also heard "Did you get me a pressie?" No, but I bought you a "present."
15. The word "pet" is often used as a term of endearment. Hmm...
16. If you'd like a towel for your shower, you can find one in the "press." Not the hall closet or the cabinet, the "press."
17. Immersion. Everyone should you tube Des Bishop and watch his comedy sketch on this topic. It's hilarious! You see, in older homes in Ireland (and some newer ones) you basically have to flip a switch in the "hot water press" to have hot water when you shower. Our house is not like this, but Darren grew up in a house like this. Basically they tell you to "turn on the immersion." Can you imagine being here for the first time and having someone tell you this?
18. "Cot" is the same as "bed."
19. A "jumper" is the same as a "sweater" and a "hoodie" is what the Irish call a hooded sweatshirt.
20. Excuse me but where is the bathroom? I'm not sure what you're talking about because here we say "the toilet." So literal. Way to go Ireland.
So there are 20 new words that you can all add to your vocabulary! I hope you all found this entry educational.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Breakfast of Champions
Many studies have established that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It's what gives us that extra boost in the morning and prepares us to take charge and seize the day. Personally, I always thought a double shot from Starbuck's could do the same thing in a more compact and convenient form. Granted, like an infant, when I fail to eat breakfast I get very cranky. Therefore, those scientists must know what they're talking about.
My breakfast in America consisted mainly of me scarfing down a piece of toast or a bagel in my cubicle while checking a plethora of morning voice mails left by angry claimants. That's a pretty positive way to start the day, no?
But weekend breakfasts are much different than the daily kind. Weekend breakfasts are a time for socializing, treating oneself, or hoping that copious amounts of food will cure one's post Friday night binge drinking hangover.
In college my friends and I would frequently wake up after a night of painting the town red, roll out of bed, and stumble to a place where the syrup flows like the amazon, where bacon and eggs come out hot on your plate in less than 20 minutes, where angels sing "rooty tooty fresh and fruity" from the depths of their souls...a place called the International House of Pancakes.
Ah, IHOP an American institution attempting to spread culture to bargain hunters of all ages. Where else can you get pancakes in different styles derived from 3 european countries? So what if the only thing that makes each pancake (actually, more like crepes) different is the type of berry or nutella they're served with?
What I'm getting at is IHOP or any other American breakfast chain (or non chain for that matter) serves the following staples in a weekend brunch or breakfast: pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, omlettes, french toast, breakfast burrito (for most border states), juevos rancheros (oh how I miss thee), eggs benedict, fruit bowl, oatmeal, cereal, bagel with cream cheese, and lox and bagels. You get the picture.
We indulge in these delicious breakfast staples and truly take the variety offered to us in America for granted.
In Ireland, I frequently crave the delicious taste of fluffy, buttermilk pancakes. I miss the comforting feeling of warm, maple syrup. I try to fill the void that has been left by the lack of Bisquick in Ireland as I am forced to eat this for breakfast:
Behold, the full Irish breakfast. The answer to a hungry farmer's prayers on a Sunday morning. The cure of all hungry Irish bellies. The girl next door of breakfasts.
Basically a full Irish breakfast cosists of the following: Eggs, toast, rashers (I still don't really know what part of the pig this comes from), sausage, black pudding, white pudding, baked beans, and a grilled (um..I think?) tomato. Sometimes you'll find it varied and including mushrooms and chips (that's fries to my fellow yanks). And to spice it up even more, many people dip the goods in brown sauce (I still haven't found an American comparison. Think A1 steak sauce but thicker and less tangy).
I think the goal of the full Irish is to see how many different forms of pork can be crammed onto a plate. Excuse me, would you like a side of breakfast with your helping of pig?
I can kiss the days of sweet breakfast foods good bye and in turn, welcome with open arms my future of savory only breakfasts. But pudding is sweet, you argue. WRONG! In Ireland, pudding is pork meat and fat mixed with bread, spices, and oatmeal. There are two forms, black pudding and white pudding. The only difference is that black pudding has blood in it. Mmm...yummy, right? I'm sure you'd trade your Denver omlette for some bloody poser sausage any day right?
But, when in Rome as they say. I've adapted quite well to the full Irish breakfast. I just leave a few items out, like the black pudding and most of the baked beans (baked beans are reserved for the Fourth of July and can only be eaten if made by either my mother or my best friend's mother in my opinion).
Last weekend we were at a restaurant for brunch when alas, I spoted on the menu (dun dun dun) a belgian waffle! My tastebuds nearly jumped off my tounge as they danced in a triumph. As I read the description I noticed that the waffles were served with ice cream. No thank you. A) I'm no longer 5 years old and B) I asked for brunch, not dessert. I settled for a breakfast ciabatta because a) it was different than the full Irish breakfast and B) ciabatta just sounded exotic. Believe me, it is compared to traditional Irish food. Hell, Tabasco or cilantro or puree are words that just sound so pretty to me lately.
So the bottom line is, breakfast in Ireland is boring. Hands down, it just is. Ireland is great at many other things, but I truly think the ball was dropped on breakfast. Literally, that's probably what happened.
So please if you're feeling generous, send over a box of Bisquick. Hopefully the postal service won't mistake it for some kind of powdered, illegal substance or Anthrax. In the meantime, I'll be on the hunt for a waffle maker.
My breakfast in America consisted mainly of me scarfing down a piece of toast or a bagel in my cubicle while checking a plethora of morning voice mails left by angry claimants. That's a pretty positive way to start the day, no?
But weekend breakfasts are much different than the daily kind. Weekend breakfasts are a time for socializing, treating oneself, or hoping that copious amounts of food will cure one's post Friday night binge drinking hangover.
In college my friends and I would frequently wake up after a night of painting the town red, roll out of bed, and stumble to a place where the syrup flows like the amazon, where bacon and eggs come out hot on your plate in less than 20 minutes, where angels sing "rooty tooty fresh and fruity" from the depths of their souls...a place called the International House of Pancakes.
Ah, IHOP an American institution attempting to spread culture to bargain hunters of all ages. Where else can you get pancakes in different styles derived from 3 european countries? So what if the only thing that makes each pancake (actually, more like crepes) different is the type of berry or nutella they're served with?
What I'm getting at is IHOP or any other American breakfast chain (or non chain for that matter) serves the following staples in a weekend brunch or breakfast: pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, omlettes, french toast, breakfast burrito (for most border states), juevos rancheros (oh how I miss thee), eggs benedict, fruit bowl, oatmeal, cereal, bagel with cream cheese, and lox and bagels. You get the picture.
We indulge in these delicious breakfast staples and truly take the variety offered to us in America for granted.
In Ireland, I frequently crave the delicious taste of fluffy, buttermilk pancakes. I miss the comforting feeling of warm, maple syrup. I try to fill the void that has been left by the lack of Bisquick in Ireland as I am forced to eat this for breakfast:
Behold, the full Irish breakfast. The answer to a hungry farmer's prayers on a Sunday morning. The cure of all hungry Irish bellies. The girl next door of breakfasts.
Basically a full Irish breakfast cosists of the following: Eggs, toast, rashers (I still don't really know what part of the pig this comes from), sausage, black pudding, white pudding, baked beans, and a grilled (um..I think?) tomato. Sometimes you'll find it varied and including mushrooms and chips (that's fries to my fellow yanks). And to spice it up even more, many people dip the goods in brown sauce (I still haven't found an American comparison. Think A1 steak sauce but thicker and less tangy).
I think the goal of the full Irish is to see how many different forms of pork can be crammed onto a plate. Excuse me, would you like a side of breakfast with your helping of pig?
I can kiss the days of sweet breakfast foods good bye and in turn, welcome with open arms my future of savory only breakfasts. But pudding is sweet, you argue. WRONG! In Ireland, pudding is pork meat and fat mixed with bread, spices, and oatmeal. There are two forms, black pudding and white pudding. The only difference is that black pudding has blood in it. Mmm...yummy, right? I'm sure you'd trade your Denver omlette for some bloody poser sausage any day right?
But, when in Rome as they say. I've adapted quite well to the full Irish breakfast. I just leave a few items out, like the black pudding and most of the baked beans (baked beans are reserved for the Fourth of July and can only be eaten if made by either my mother or my best friend's mother in my opinion).
Last weekend we were at a restaurant for brunch when alas, I spoted on the menu (dun dun dun) a belgian waffle! My tastebuds nearly jumped off my tounge as they danced in a triumph. As I read the description I noticed that the waffles were served with ice cream. No thank you. A) I'm no longer 5 years old and B) I asked for brunch, not dessert. I settled for a breakfast ciabatta because a) it was different than the full Irish breakfast and B) ciabatta just sounded exotic. Believe me, it is compared to traditional Irish food. Hell, Tabasco or cilantro or puree are words that just sound so pretty to me lately.
So the bottom line is, breakfast in Ireland is boring. Hands down, it just is. Ireland is great at many other things, but I truly think the ball was dropped on breakfast. Literally, that's probably what happened.
So please if you're feeling generous, send over a box of Bisquick. Hopefully the postal service won't mistake it for some kind of powdered, illegal substance or Anthrax. In the meantime, I'll be on the hunt for a waffle maker.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Intro
For those of you who know me, I'm back in Ireland for the fifth time and have been living here since September, 2008. The only difference is that this time, I have no return ticket home.
For those of you who do not know me, let me give you the back story. Buying a one way ticket to a foreign country may seem quite adventurous and daring, but let's just say I've been easing myself (and my friends and family) into this idea for quite some time.
My first Irish adventure began in 2005 when I studied abroad for a semester in college at the University of Limerick. Four glorious months as a visitor in Ireland brought me the following: friends and acquaintances from around the world, an addiction to European chocolate, a fondness for tea with milk, and most likely an onset to cirrhosis of the liver. But the most valuable thing I walked away with (well, more like sat away with...if you think about it, I was sitting on a plane bound for Los Angeles for 10 hours) from Ireland was my boyfriend, Darren.
Of course leave it to me to fall in love with someone who lives half way around the world from my home. Someone who's accent is so strong, after three years together I still have to ask him to repeat himself on a daily basis. Someone who puts butter on his sandwiches in addition to mayonnaise (an Irish thing, I'm sure I'll get into it at some post). And someone who pronounces the word "three" as "tree" (yet another norm for the Irish).
In any case, as I subtly mentioned above, our relationship managed to survive 2.5 ish years of long distance. Darren spent a summer in California as I in turn spent one in Ireland. Mixed in with those two summer stays were a couple of winter and spring ones here and there as well. With the long breaks that college offered, it was easy to make transatlantic trips for extended periods of time. Plus, airfare was pretty reasonable as this was prior to the global recession and the whole world going tits up thing.
Eventually, I decided to take a transition job at an international Disability Insurance company after college. I got an apartment in Burbank with 2 former Chapman University students and lived up the glamorous southern California lifestyle. That is, if you call driving a 2007 Honda civic and frequently ordering take away at my neighborhood sushi restaurant so that I could catch up on my tivo-ed episodes of "Rock of Love" glamorous. But something was always missing and I often times wondered what life would be like if I actually moved to Ireland for more than a 4 month period of time.
As I sat behind my desk in my cubicle working for the man (at a painfully decent salary that sadly, I miss) I realized that it was now or never. I was technically still in my early twenties and therefore, had some time to spare to make drastic, impulsive, and life altering (side bar: is it just me or are the terms life altering and life threatening really similar?) decisions. After consulting with Darren, my family, and friends, I purchased a one way ticket to Cork, Ireland and have been here ever since. Currently, I'm going on month 4 and so far, am happy with my decision.
But being happy with my decision does not mean there aren't bumps along the way in this journey. No matter how many times I come to Ireland, my transition is always a long and continuous process. For a country that some people call America's 51st state (just because it's westernized? I don't know) its differences to America outweigh it's similarities.
So that is what this blog is about. The bumps along the way. The story of a yank in Ireland. I figured it's a) much easier than emailing people monthly updates and b) something I can do before work in the morning. Plus, perhaps my inter-cultural mishaps may prove to be entertaining and hey, maybe everyone will gain a little more knowledge about the Irish along the way. Contrary to the stereotype, they're not all bar fighting, beer guzzling, jigging leprechauns.
My new year's resolution, well one of the 10 plus, is to update this blog frequently and to keep with it. So go ahead, be daring and add it to your favorites. Forward it to those you think will be interested in hearing about a life abroad. Enjoy it while you sip your morning cup of java. Or indulge while your boss thinks you're drafting the morning report, assisting that client on the phone, or finalizing tomorrow's proposal. Hopefully management hasn't advised the IT department to block blogspot yet.
Ready, one, two, three...go!
For those of you who do not know me, let me give you the back story. Buying a one way ticket to a foreign country may seem quite adventurous and daring, but let's just say I've been easing myself (and my friends and family) into this idea for quite some time.
My first Irish adventure began in 2005 when I studied abroad for a semester in college at the University of Limerick. Four glorious months as a visitor in Ireland brought me the following: friends and acquaintances from around the world, an addiction to European chocolate, a fondness for tea with milk, and most likely an onset to cirrhosis of the liver. But the most valuable thing I walked away with (well, more like sat away with...if you think about it, I was sitting on a plane bound for Los Angeles for 10 hours) from Ireland was my boyfriend, Darren.
Of course leave it to me to fall in love with someone who lives half way around the world from my home. Someone who's accent is so strong, after three years together I still have to ask him to repeat himself on a daily basis. Someone who puts butter on his sandwiches in addition to mayonnaise (an Irish thing, I'm sure I'll get into it at some post). And someone who pronounces the word "three" as "tree" (yet another norm for the Irish).
In any case, as I subtly mentioned above, our relationship managed to survive 2.5 ish years of long distance. Darren spent a summer in California as I in turn spent one in Ireland. Mixed in with those two summer stays were a couple of winter and spring ones here and there as well. With the long breaks that college offered, it was easy to make transatlantic trips for extended periods of time. Plus, airfare was pretty reasonable as this was prior to the global recession and the whole world going tits up thing.
Eventually, I decided to take a transition job at an international Disability Insurance company after college. I got an apartment in Burbank with 2 former Chapman University students and lived up the glamorous southern California lifestyle. That is, if you call driving a 2007 Honda civic and frequently ordering take away at my neighborhood sushi restaurant so that I could catch up on my tivo-ed episodes of "Rock of Love" glamorous. But something was always missing and I often times wondered what life would be like if I actually moved to Ireland for more than a 4 month period of time.
As I sat behind my desk in my cubicle working for the man (at a painfully decent salary that sadly, I miss) I realized that it was now or never. I was technically still in my early twenties and therefore, had some time to spare to make drastic, impulsive, and life altering (side bar: is it just me or are the terms life altering and life threatening really similar?) decisions. After consulting with Darren, my family, and friends, I purchased a one way ticket to Cork, Ireland and have been here ever since. Currently, I'm going on month 4 and so far, am happy with my decision.
But being happy with my decision does not mean there aren't bumps along the way in this journey. No matter how many times I come to Ireland, my transition is always a long and continuous process. For a country that some people call America's 51st state (just because it's westernized? I don't know) its differences to America outweigh it's similarities.
So that is what this blog is about. The bumps along the way. The story of a yank in Ireland. I figured it's a) much easier than emailing people monthly updates and b) something I can do before work in the morning. Plus, perhaps my inter-cultural mishaps may prove to be entertaining and hey, maybe everyone will gain a little more knowledge about the Irish along the way. Contrary to the stereotype, they're not all bar fighting, beer guzzling, jigging leprechauns.
My new year's resolution, well one of the 10 plus, is to update this blog frequently and to keep with it. So go ahead, be daring and add it to your favorites. Forward it to those you think will be interested in hearing about a life abroad. Enjoy it while you sip your morning cup of java. Or indulge while your boss thinks you're drafting the morning report, assisting that client on the phone, or finalizing tomorrow's proposal. Hopefully management hasn't advised the IT department to block blogspot yet.
Ready, one, two, three...go!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)