You will all be happy to know that I am officially a vehicle owner. I'm absolutely in love with my euro car and even better, I survived the journey from Dublin to Cork when I collected her (it's for sure a she) on Friday.
I was surprised at how easy driving came to me. Granted, I've been driving since the age of 16, but the fact that it was on the other side of the road on the other side of the car really intimidated me. Our 2 night stop over in Tipperary gave me a chance to try my hand at driving on country roads. Nothing scarier than driving on a one lane road that's supposed to fit two cars in both directions. Or getting stuck behind a tractor and having to pass it when I'm afraid to go faster than 40 mph. Or better yet, praying silently that random dogs roaming the side of the road won't dodge out in front of me. Still, I managed.
Other than completely underestimating the cost of petrol (gas), I'm thrilled to be back on the road. I've been driving myself to and from work for the past few days and actually have time to get up in the morning and do things prior to leaving for work instead of rushing for the bus as soon as I hop out of bed.
Next on the list is a new job. I start next Thursday and am pretty excited about that as well. Last week I was starting to think I was coming down with a bit of Stockholm Syndrome. I was feeling really bad and scared about leaving the company I'm currently with. I started to feel very anxious about going somewhere different, learning a new product, and meeting new people. But as the start date gets closer and closer, I'm more excited to take on the new challenge. Not so excited about the commute to the new place considering I have to go through more roundabouts and drive partially through the city (ahhhh!) to get there. More to come on that!
So I did it. I always said I would be happy to live in Ireland if I could have a car and get a job here. Done and done. Don't get me wrong, I still miss home and every so often get the "WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!" voice in my head. This week I'm bummed that my mom and 2 of my sisters are going to all be in Ohio in June without me. If I wasn't starting a new job and didn't just spend my entire bank account on a car, I may have been able to swing meeting them there. This time though I'll just have to get email and picture updates. I'll survive, but I wish I could be there.
Ok, enough sap. Bed time is swiftly approaching. Today I woke up and thought it was Wednesday. Tonight I can take comfort in the fact that when I wake up tomorrow, I'll be correct.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Hit the Road Jack
After a year and a half of being without wheels here in Ireland, tomorrow marks my first day back on the road (actually, the first time being on the road in Ireland) in my first right hand drive car.
In fact, tomorrow will also mark the first time in my life I've ever purchased my own car. The other two were purchased by my father (one when I was 16 and one when I graduated college which subsequently now belongs to my sister. That's what happens when you leave the country and a brand new Honda Civic behind). So the daddy's girl act is up and here I am making my first big purchase.
Except, I would be lying if I said I bought the entire thing on me own. My current salary does not allow much wiggle room and my budget was tight. The boyfriend stepped in and helped out with a deposit and insurance. I have sworn to pay him back (most likely in installments or in home cooked meals) and boyfriend, if you're reading this, THANK YOU SO MUCH. Honestly, I think he's just as happy about this car as I am. No longer will I complain to him (and everyone I know for that matter) about how awful public transport here in Cork is and how unreliable Bus Eireann is. He can forget about ever having to wake up early to bring me to work or stay up late to collect me. And I finally have freedom of the road.
It currently takes me 2 buses and 1.5 hours to get to work. By car it only takes 15 minutes. I can't wait to not have to leave my house at 9:30 to make it in for work by 11 am. Huzzah!
So 1997 Volkswagen Polo here I come. You may be 13 years old, but I don't care. You're automatic, compact, and all mine.
The tricky part is collecting the car from Dublin. For those of you not familiar with geography in Ireland, Dublin is about a 3 hour or so drive from Cork. It's mostly motorway (aka freeway) but yours truly will be making her maiden voyage in her new Polo from Dublin. We'll most likely be making a one night pit stop in Tipperary which will nicely break up the journey, but I have to admit, I am a little nervous. The furthest I've driven in Ireland is to the shop. Which is located up the small hill from my house. It's about a 40 second drive. That's it. That's all I've done. And here I am expected to use my indicators, go through roundabouts, go above speeds of 90 kilometers an hour, and all while doing it on the opposite side of the road to what I'm used to.
Guess I have to break myself in somehow. Please pray for my safety.
So that's the big news from this side of the pond. Now it's off to snoozy dreamy land. Can't be tired for tomorrow!
In fact, tomorrow will also mark the first time in my life I've ever purchased my own car. The other two were purchased by my father (one when I was 16 and one when I graduated college which subsequently now belongs to my sister. That's what happens when you leave the country and a brand new Honda Civic behind). So the daddy's girl act is up and here I am making my first big purchase.
Except, I would be lying if I said I bought the entire thing on me own. My current salary does not allow much wiggle room and my budget was tight. The boyfriend stepped in and helped out with a deposit and insurance. I have sworn to pay him back (most likely in installments or in home cooked meals) and boyfriend, if you're reading this, THANK YOU SO MUCH. Honestly, I think he's just as happy about this car as I am. No longer will I complain to him (and everyone I know for that matter) about how awful public transport here in Cork is and how unreliable Bus Eireann is. He can forget about ever having to wake up early to bring me to work or stay up late to collect me. And I finally have freedom of the road.
It currently takes me 2 buses and 1.5 hours to get to work. By car it only takes 15 minutes. I can't wait to not have to leave my house at 9:30 to make it in for work by 11 am. Huzzah!
So 1997 Volkswagen Polo here I come. You may be 13 years old, but I don't care. You're automatic, compact, and all mine.
The tricky part is collecting the car from Dublin. For those of you not familiar with geography in Ireland, Dublin is about a 3 hour or so drive from Cork. It's mostly motorway (aka freeway) but yours truly will be making her maiden voyage in her new Polo from Dublin. We'll most likely be making a one night pit stop in Tipperary which will nicely break up the journey, but I have to admit, I am a little nervous. The furthest I've driven in Ireland is to the shop. Which is located up the small hill from my house. It's about a 40 second drive. That's it. That's all I've done. And here I am expected to use my indicators, go through roundabouts, go above speeds of 90 kilometers an hour, and all while doing it on the opposite side of the road to what I'm used to.
Guess I have to break myself in somehow. Please pray for my safety.
So that's the big news from this side of the pond. Now it's off to snoozy dreamy land. Can't be tired for tomorrow!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter in Eire
Happy Easter to all of my 5 followers and random readers out there.
As I sit here nibbling on my Easter chocolate I can't help but feel fat. Well, fat and homesick. While Easter isn't the biggest holiday gathering in the Gustafson household, there is in fact a gathering. And, once again, I shall be absent for it. No Easter dinner for moi. I had a burger and chips from the local chipper for my Easter dinner. I miss my mom's cheesy gratin potatoes and the wine flowing plentifully at dad's. But alas, this is the compromise of international, independent living.
Enough woe is me talk and time get down to more interesting things. Today's topic, Good Friday and Easter in Ireland.
There's not too much to say about Easter in Ireland. I mean, it's the same religious focus throughout the world mixed in with bunnies, chicks and baby lambs. Families go to church, children have Easter egg hunts, and chocolate flows from neighborhood grocery stores like the Nile. The Monday following Easter Sunday is a bank holiday and most of us have the day off, there's one important difference, but other than that, Easter is Easter.
Good Friday however is an entirely different story. Good Friday in Ireland is essentially the one day alcohol Apocalypse and that's exactly how the Irish treat it. Being the infrequent church goer that I am (let's save the religion discussion for another day), Good Friday to me is the one day of the year when I'm not supposed to eat meat. Apparently, my parents did not raise a good Catholic, nor did I pay enough attention in Sunday school. I had chicken on Good Friday this year and felt guilty about it. But I know God loves me and won't mind a little chicken in my belly. If I'm worried about what God thinks of me eating chicken on a holy day, then I better start watching my back for the other 364 days of the year.
Moving forward...
Good Friday in Ireland is alcohol free. That's right, one day when the pubs shut their doors and the stores don' t sell booze to the inebriated inhabitants of this fine nation. It's a huge ordeal and there really is a sense of panic in the air. I was in the store on Thursday evening and as I was going in others were coming out with cases upon cases of lager in their arms stocking up as if the world was ending (come on, don't tell me you wouldn't want to have copious amounts of alcohol when the world ends). Just out of curiosity I approached the alcohol aisle to survey the damage. The vodka section was cleared out of merchandise, the beer section left only with a few lonely cans of Dutch Gold, and the wine section was barren.
Pretty crazy I must say. One day, that's all people needed to get through. One day of not being able to buy alcohol. Granted, there was one small difference this year in Ireland. There was a big rugby match on in Limerick this year. Quite the scandal to be honest. Pub owners in Limerick protested the liquor selling laws on Good Friday. After all, they would lose out on loads of business had they been required to shut their doors on Good Friday. And besides that, where would all the thirsty folks after the match congregate? So the powers that be decided to bend the laws slightly this year and allowed pubs in Limerick only to be open for a few hours for the match on Good Friday. This only meant one thing, half the population of Ireland would descend on Limerick city on April 2nd. Craziness would ensue, taps would run a plenty, as thirsty individuals stormed the streets of alcohol mecca.
I'm not sure if that's the way it went down. On Friday I was in bed by 12am watching a terrible moving starring John Travolta (if he's not in tight pants from a movie made in the 70's, I don't want to see it). But what I do know is, mayhem ensued in the booze aisle in Tesco on Thursday night and I survived it.
Now, back to this hollow, chocolate egg...
As I sit here nibbling on my Easter chocolate I can't help but feel fat. Well, fat and homesick. While Easter isn't the biggest holiday gathering in the Gustafson household, there is in fact a gathering. And, once again, I shall be absent for it. No Easter dinner for moi. I had a burger and chips from the local chipper for my Easter dinner. I miss my mom's cheesy gratin potatoes and the wine flowing plentifully at dad's. But alas, this is the compromise of international, independent living.
Enough woe is me talk and time get down to more interesting things. Today's topic, Good Friday and Easter in Ireland.
There's not too much to say about Easter in Ireland. I mean, it's the same religious focus throughout the world mixed in with bunnies, chicks and baby lambs. Families go to church, children have Easter egg hunts, and chocolate flows from neighborhood grocery stores like the Nile. The Monday following Easter Sunday is a bank holiday and most of us have the day off, there's one important difference, but other than that, Easter is Easter.
Good Friday however is an entirely different story. Good Friday in Ireland is essentially the one day alcohol Apocalypse and that's exactly how the Irish treat it. Being the infrequent church goer that I am (let's save the religion discussion for another day), Good Friday to me is the one day of the year when I'm not supposed to eat meat. Apparently, my parents did not raise a good Catholic, nor did I pay enough attention in Sunday school. I had chicken on Good Friday this year and felt guilty about it. But I know God loves me and won't mind a little chicken in my belly. If I'm worried about what God thinks of me eating chicken on a holy day, then I better start watching my back for the other 364 days of the year.
Moving forward...
Good Friday in Ireland is alcohol free. That's right, one day when the pubs shut their doors and the stores don' t sell booze to the inebriated inhabitants of this fine nation. It's a huge ordeal and there really is a sense of panic in the air. I was in the store on Thursday evening and as I was going in others were coming out with cases upon cases of lager in their arms stocking up as if the world was ending (come on, don't tell me you wouldn't want to have copious amounts of alcohol when the world ends). Just out of curiosity I approached the alcohol aisle to survey the damage. The vodka section was cleared out of merchandise, the beer section left only with a few lonely cans of Dutch Gold, and the wine section was barren.
Pretty crazy I must say. One day, that's all people needed to get through. One day of not being able to buy alcohol. Granted, there was one small difference this year in Ireland. There was a big rugby match on in Limerick this year. Quite the scandal to be honest. Pub owners in Limerick protested the liquor selling laws on Good Friday. After all, they would lose out on loads of business had they been required to shut their doors on Good Friday. And besides that, where would all the thirsty folks after the match congregate? So the powers that be decided to bend the laws slightly this year and allowed pubs in Limerick only to be open for a few hours for the match on Good Friday. This only meant one thing, half the population of Ireland would descend on Limerick city on April 2nd. Craziness would ensue, taps would run a plenty, as thirsty individuals stormed the streets of alcohol mecca.
I'm not sure if that's the way it went down. On Friday I was in bed by 12am watching a terrible moving starring John Travolta (if he's not in tight pants from a movie made in the 70's, I don't want to see it). But what I do know is, mayhem ensued in the booze aisle in Tesco on Thursday night and I survived it.
Now, back to this hollow, chocolate egg...
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