Why I don't live at the P.O. - if you had been here ninety years ago tomorrow, you would have been in danger of being shot. Today, they're preparing the General Post Office, site of the 1916 Easter Rising, for tomorrow's commemorative parade. 

Despite Vidya's near-command to eat at Abrakebabra, I didn't succumb today--but I think it's telling that there were two Abrakebabras along the route of the Dublin Bus tour, which indicates that they are supremely important. 

Dublin Bay, as seen from the DART. 

The view from the platform of the Greystones DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) Station--how can mass transit be so lovely? 

smints and icecream

I probably won't post anything of substance tonight because I'm about to leave for a dinner party, and it's far enough away from the city center that I may end up staying over. This is just a brief message to let my well-wishers know that I am alive. I'll write more tomorrow!

hello moto

I finally, after months of inner struggle, broke down and purchased the Motorola RAZR V3. Better yet, I purchased it in magenta (see below). I've now officially entered the ranks of the borderline-trashy; I just need a bunch of crystals dangling off the sides, or stick-on rhinestones for the cover, to complete my awesome ensemble.

Despite my embrace of trash, I am also proud to enter the ranks of the able-to-order-takeout. Since there was no phone in my apartment and I had no cash, I wasn't able to even consider takeout for my first week here; now, with both cash and phone in hand, I can call any restaurant with delivery and have tasty food brought directly to my door. It's amazing what modernity has wrought, innit?

So I went to Grafton St. to buy my phone tonight, which proved dangerous because it also allowed me to stop at a bookstore. I picked up a copy of Neil Gaiman's 'American Gods', since I never got around to reading Claudius's copy, and I also bought a research book called something along the lines of 'Georgette Heyer's Regency England'. I know tons of stuff informally about the English Regency period (typically described at 1811-1830, I believe), but this should be a good book for me to use as I finally finish writing my freaking romance novel. I read a couple of chapters over coffee after having dinner at a restaurant near Grafton St., before coming home and playing with my new phone.

Tomorrow is Good Friday, which the Irish have off since they're still going through the motions of being good Catholics. But, judging by the number of people (rough estimate: everyone) carrying newly-purchased alcohol as they were running errands tonight, it's clear that the whole country is in a mad dash to prepare for the calamitous Shutting of the Pubs for Good Friday. While Good Friday used to be a day of penance and reflection, it's now a day to get raucously drunk at house parties rahter than at the pub. I was thinking of going to the party at the Embassy, but one of my coworkers invited me to her house for dinner (and, no doubt, some drinks), which sounds infinitely preferable.

Happy Good Friday to all of you heathens stuck in a country that doesn't give you the day off :)

  

  

abduction from the seraglio

Tonight, I went with my friend Maya (visiting from the Hyderabad office) to see an organ recital in honor of the anniversary of the first performance of Handel's 'Messiah'. The recital was held in Christ Church Cathedral (see below). The organist was clearly v. talented, and the music was lovely in a church setting--but it was also clear that the organist much preferred Bach, because he only played one Handel piece despite Handel being the supposed theme. He also only got ~40 minutes--apparently, since Christ Church is now supported solely by tourism dollars/euros, they don't like to pay staff to keep the doors open for free concerts. Or perhaps I should be more charitable and assume they had some sort of evening services going on. Anyway, because of the length of the concert, the organist cut one of the two Handel pieces. Despite that, the music was really lovely--I used to listen to lots of Bach fugues when I was younger and less enthralled by pop culture, so I felt like I was getting back to my roots.

Listening to classical always makes me wish that I still played the flute; I gave it up years ago, but despite the fact that my mouth was the wrong shape for flute, which made it difficult for me to hold the correct embouchure (aka the tight, closed-up position that allows you to direct a steady stream of air across the flute opening), I always enjoyed playing it. My band director in high school was really quite good; we won all of the marching band competitions, except for one, that we entered while I was in high school, and we typically performed very well at the conference-wide concert band competitions as well. Some of my favorite pieces from the good ol' days included 'Flores de Espana' (which had a nice Spanish flair), 'Trail of Tears' (which involved haunting wind instruments combined with some fun chanting of Cherokee words which we probably were incapable of pronouncing), and a duet of Pachelbel's 'Canon' that I played with Elaina. Oh, and the Olympic theme arrangement, of course. Anyway, if I ever become Secretary of State, maybe I'll take up flute again--I saw an article in the New York Times the other day about Condoleezza Rice's piano skills in her chamber group, and it was rather inspiring.

Anyway, the concert was cool, and afterwards we went to a pub (naturally) and had a pint of Guinness with the three other people who went to the concert with us. Then, Maya and I ditched the other three and had a tasty dinner near the pub; I was extremely glad that we took a cab home, since I was much too full for the twenty-minute walk. After reaching home, I downloaded the pictures you see below, and I also downloaded Mozart's overture to 'The Abduction from the Seraglio', which has been on repeat ever since. I may have to get back into classical music, since I'm rather sick of everything else I have. I know, it's blasphemy to say that I no longer want to listen to Gavin Rossdale--he'll always be near and dear to my heart, but I think I need a break from him. Mozart seems like an adequate (albeit calmer) substitute.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do this weekend, but I have four days off, so hopefully I can accomplish a lot. Actually, most stores and things will be closed during Easter, and everything will be closed on Good Friday--but I would imagine that some of the more touristy things will be open Saturday and Monday, so perhaps I'll do one of those Dublin bus tours. Now, though, I'm super tired, so it's time for bed!

 Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin--thanks to the British, the most important cathedrals in Dublin are all Protestant. The church was beautiful, but lacked the gravitas that I found in my Great Church Tour Across Europe last summer--probably because you can't help but feel sorry for all of the forgotten hordes who were starving to death and unable to even pray in their old cathedrals. 

 The photo is a little blurry, but for some reason the commemorative statue of Handel conducting 'The Messiah' is a very-well-built naked dude standing on top of some modern structure suggesting organ pipes. I doubt that Handel was that ripped, nor did he conduct naked, but perhaps I'm forgetting some of the stuff that I learned in Music Appreciation. 

diet cokes and baby ruths

Well, I finished that stupid book tonight, but there's no point in rambling on about it--any comments left on the post would undoubtedly be about my aunt's birthday. So, happy birthday Aunt Becky! I'll even wish you a happy 29th birthday if that's what you really want :)

Other than that, nothing of much importance happened today. I have to make a trip to the immigration authorities bright and early tomorrow morning, so I think that I'll go to sleep early. It's funny--I was told that the lines are really long, but when I found out that one of my coworkers only spent an hour and a half in line there, I thought that it was short compared to the amount of time I waited at the California DMV for my driver's license. Anyway, since I have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow, I think that it's time for bed. Wish me luck!

jaywalking with the irish, pt. 1

So, I've spent the last two nights reading this book that I picked up at Waterstone's (the British equivalent of Borders, and therefore the British equivalent of a huge drain on my savings), and if I actually liked it I would probably stay up tonight to finish it. You know that I despise a book if I prioritize going to bed before eleven over finishing the last few chapters. It's called 'Jaywalking with the Irish' by David Monagan, and I picked it up because I thought that another American's chronicles of explorative vertigo in Ireland would help me to adjust. Instead, I've just become more and more annoyed at this guy. He and his wife (whom he makes occasional overly-cute remarks about) picked up their three kids and moved them all to Cork, Ireland, in pursuit of some upbringing less tainted by the modern living found in cold American suburbia. Clearly, anyone who picks up their family and moves to a foreign country suffers from a restlessness of spirit that some find charming and others find idiotic; perhaps since I was picked up and moved to a foreign county, I usually find it charming, but in this guy I find it idiotic instead.

I think that my main problem with him is that his language is always, inevitably, unavoidably overwrought. You can argue that that's my main problem as well (the fact that I even used the word 'overwrought' implies that I have some issues with clear, direct prose), but I think that the key difference here is that he *always* means it. There are times when I'm feeling sorry for myself and I use fancy words like window-dressings to cover whatever I'm thinking, but most of the time I use them because they are pleasantly ironic when one is describing otherwise-boring aspects of modern life. But, if you're using them to describe a country about which you want to make a larger point, such as the point that people have lost a great deal by sacrificing their backwoods cottages and charmingly-poor towns in the name of 'progress', you had best make sure that your point isn't lost in your endless descriptions of rainbows, rainstorms, your children's' friends, and the characters you've met at the local pub.

To put it another way, Monaghan dresses up everything that he sees in some sort of fevered dream of what Ireland used to be like (which, he likes to remind us, he is an expert on since he spent a year or two in Ireland in the '70's). Then, he is brought back to 'reality' by seeing some girl walk by in a midriff-baring shirt, or getting his windshield bashed in by some area youths (he bemoaned this as an Irish reaction against outsiders, but I think it was an understandable reaction against a self-involved prick), and this gives him a chance to wax eloquent on how all this new-found wealth is ruining Ireland. I haven't finished the book, so I'm hoping something bad happens and he gets shipped back to America, but that doesn't seem to be in the cards. I think it's telling, though, that he doesn't have many anecdotes of people who are wishing away all of this prosperity--given how he loves to recount every conversation with anyone he's ever had over a pint, I would expect that anyone who said anything about how the country was getting worse would end up in the book.

At the end of the day, romanticizing doesn't pay the bills, and if you ask someone to choose between living in a soulless concrete apartment in Dublin, with tasty ready-to-eat meals from Marks and Spencer, or living in a two-room hovel with ten kids in the backwoods of County Cork, dying from famine and sending everyone you know off on perilous emigrations to parts unknown, I would imagine most people would choose the concrete apartment. Then again, maybe I'm being hypocritical, since I know even less of the situation than he appears to.

Maybe I'm also biased right now, since I had a ready-to-eat meal (spaghetti carbonara) from Marks and Spencer today, and it was delicious. I left work around seven, came home, tidied up a bit, ate dinner, and read that blasted book until now. One more thing, and then I'll shut up about it. Allow me to excerpt a passage:

"Beside the church lay a park where the grass wove thick and the birdsong sweet, but no fairy chatter could be heard. Instead, there waited a black, voluptuous sculpture of the Egyptian god Isiris, she the incarnation of fertility renewing without end. Beyond lay a mysterious series of fifteen-foot-tall pyramids of blue-gray Kerry slate, rising improbably beside the river and before the open water of Sneem's harbor." David Monaghan, Jaywalking with the Irish, pg. 123.

If you're going to write prose so that it sounds like you're trying for some high-minded literary prize (and especially if you're writing prose for a book, and not for a blog that you write haphazardly every night), you should know your facts. And the fact is that there is no god called Isiris. He meant Isis, but ended up with some strange cross between Isis and Osiris, and neither he nor his subsequent editors caught it. This bothered me so much that I flagged the page, and when I'd read another hundred pages with this still fresh in my memory, I looked it up just to make sure that I wasn't wrong.

Now, I'm going to fully admit that I sound just as overknowledgable and unbearable as Monaghan does, especially since I'm taking issue over extremely small pieces of his work. But, I guess I don't like reading the travelogues of anyone who takes themselves too seriously. And this guy, regardless of how much fun he had or how many 'dear friends' (an abhorrent and oh-so-fake way to describe people) he made, seemed to fall effortlessly into the 'I Take Myself Seriously' club. I'm still going to finish the book, because finishing books is what I fall effortlessly into, but I'm not going to be happy about it. And, you can probably be assured that if I'm not happy, you won't be happy, since you'll have to read another post about it.

On that note, I have tons to do tomorrow, so I should probably sleep. My ten-day-old sore throat has somehow developed a wracking cough accompaniment; usually coughs beget sore throats, but this one was the other way around. Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow! Otherwise, I may have to break out the half-empty bottle of Jameson that the former tenant thoughtfully left for me. If whiskey can't fix me, you can bet that a visit to National Health Services won't do the trick either.

the things you said and did to me seemed to come so easily

If yesterday was fun but hectic, today was quiet but relaxing. I accidentally slept until 1:30, which was entirely my fault since I also accidentally read until three a.m. I took a quick shower and then walked downtown. The walk was punctuated by occasional bursts of rain, followed by all-too-brief stretches of calm. But, I discovered that I can walk to the main shopping area around Grafton St. in around fifteen or twenty minutes, which is great--it seems entirely reasonable to get some exercise by walking to Grafton St. and then taking a taxi back when I'm laden with packages. Clearly, I could get more exercise by doing this in the opposite manner, or foregoing taxis altogether, but I didn't particularly feel like walking home in the rain with a bunch of shopping bags.

Anyway, Grafton St. is an area where Matt and I were yesterday, and I really like it. Actually, everywhere that Matt and I were yesterday was within five minutes of each other; Temple Bar, Grafton St., Dame St., Trinity College, and the other important areas of old Dublin are very compact and completely walkable, which is totally different from, say, Hyderabad. Grafton St. itself has been closed to motorized vehicles and turned into a street-long mall of sorts, as if Stanford Shopping Center had been stretched along one street and been forced to changes its upscale American stores for upscale Irish/European stores. Oh, and of course Dublin doesn't try to grow palm trees in an unsuitable climate, but I think this is eminently preferable; Stanford's palm trees, while lovely, are something of a joke when you find out that the school spends $30,000 per tree, an amount that comes close to a student's yearly tuition.

So, Stanford aside, Grafton St. is lovely. They even had the foresight to put a Body Shop next to a Nine West, which will probably help to part me from my hard-earned cash several times over the next few months. I didn't do much shopping because I got there late (everything closes by six on Sundays, just like at home), it was a bit rainy for shopping, and I was more interested in looking around, but I could easily while away an entire day around Grafton St. I did manage to pick up some necessities at Boots (the upscale British equivalent to Longs, transplanted to Ireland), including a hair dryer, and I bought a couple of books at Waterstone's. I checked out the Marks and Spencer, which is an old-school department store with, of all things, a food section in the basement. According to what I remember reading about the business at some point, they actually make a lot of their money off of their food offerings now, and it's little wonder--the place is a dream for people who don't really want to cook. They have all sorts of refrigerated, reheatable, single-serving meals, which is perfect for me since I don't like buying ingredients when I know that half of it will go to waste before I can use it, and I'm not in the mood for cooking when I've been at the office for twelve hours. So, I picked up enough random meals to last the week.

This all left me feeling very self-satisfied, even though self-satisfaction was perhaps not deserved since I, in essence, spent the afternoon buying overpriced toiletries, unnecessary books, and ready-to-eat meals to support my laziness. Despite that, I was feeling pretty satisfied, and after I had dropped my groceries off at home, I decided to forego the newly-purchased meals and have dinner at the nearby pub instead. Kitty O'Shea's is the nearest pub to the office, and so gets a lot of business from us when people leave work (apparently there's a group that goes every Monday and Wednesday, and most Fridays too). They also serve extremely tasty fish 'n' chips, which I washed down with some Guinness. If you read my blog and notice that I start to have Guinness more than four times a week, I suggest that you start sending me well-meaning emails with links to Alcoholics Anonymous. I spent a very pleasant couple of hours there, sipping my Guinness and reading a book that I picked up this afternoon. Then, I called my parents, came home, read a bit more, and am now more than ready for bed.

I've been in Dublin one week, but I already feel really settled. Maybe I'll start to feel claustrophobic once I've been working longer, but right now I'm really satisfied. Of course, I suppose it would be better if it didn't rain so much, but I'm not going to push my luck by wishing for that :)

whispers at the bus stop

Today was a great day, probably in large part because I made it more than two blocks away from my apartment. I unfortunately had to get up at 6:30am, which is absolutely awful on a Saturday, especially since I still haven't completely adjusted to the time difference and so had trouble falling asleep last night. Why was I up at such an ungodly hour, you ask? Well, on a whim about a month ago, I had registered to take the Foreign Service Exam. It's only offered once a year, and today was the only test date. I had planned ahead and registered to take it at the US Embassy in Dublin. For those of you whom I work with, don't be concerned that I'm abandoning you--a) the application process to work in the Foreign Service can take up to two years, b) the application process is absurdly difficult to pass, and c) I have no idea what's next for me, but switching jobs definitely isn't on the horizon anytime soon.

Anyway, the exam was actually a fun way to start off my Saturday, probably because I'm completely masochistic in a trivia-loving kind of way. The test is broken up into four parts: general/job knowledge, essay, biographical, and English expression. The general section asks all sorts of trivia about Constitutional amendments, geography, history, culture, etc.; the essay is an essay, obviously; the biographical section makes you answer all sorts of questions about yourself; and the English expression section is similar to most standardized English exams. I think that I rocked the geography, at least--all those hours spent making my own little geography reports in Ukraine really helped me. Even now, more than a decade later, I can pick most African countries out on a map. If you're interested in trying, go to http://www.lizardpoint.com/fun/geoquiz/index.html; I got a 140 out of 162 possible points on the Africa quiz, in case you'd like a bit of friendly competition.

Unfortunately, geography was a small component of what they tested, and the rest of the test was difficult. But, I managed to end early, and even better, I managed to leave during a break in the cyclical rain showers that were occasionally dousing Dublin today. Best of all, though, I secured an invite to a party at the Marine House on Good Friday. This is key because a) all bars and pubs are closed on Good Friday and b) drinks are only 2.50 euros, which is absurdly cheap for Dublin. I haven't decided if I'll go yet, but it could be fun to meet people whom I don't work with, so we'll have to see.

Anyway, after the exam, I met Irish Matt (who, obviously, is Irish and is back here rather than still in India) for a very late lunch. That turned into several hours of hanging out. He v. briefly showed me Trinity College, which he graduated from a few years ago, and which is home to the Book of Kells and an apparently-beautiful library that I will have to check out at a later point. Then, we stopped at a pub for my first pint (well, to be honest, first two pints) of Guinness. I must say that I like Guinness, even if it hasn't been transformed into the deliciously-potent Irish Car Bomb (which I will have to remember not to order here, judging by the look that Matt gave me when I mentioned them to him). I then caught a taxi home around 8:30, since he was having dinner with some friends, and I enjoyed the pleasant aftereffects of two pints of Guinness by eating leftover Indian food and reading a book in bed for awhile. A few years ago, I never would have dreamed that the day would come when I would be completely satisfied by 32 ounces of beer and a puddle of reheated curry, but stranger things have happened.

Tomorrow, I'll have to go back to the main area of Dublin and check out the shops--particularly the bookstores, of course, even though they are v. dangerous for me. Luckily, the stores aren't open long on Sundays, which will naturally curtail my acquisitive tendencies. Now, though, it's time to curl up in bed and dream of pleasant things. Perhaps I'll dream of leprechauns--I haven't seen any here yet, and I'm really disappointed. I've seen a few people who look like soccer hooligans, but that's as close as I've come. Hopefully some trips to the countryside will rectify this situation.

fish and chips

I am once again a member of the ranks of the economically-viable; I walked two blocks in a different direction and successfully located an ATM. This allowed me, five minutes later, to successfully purchase my first greasy bag of fish and chips. I brought said greasy bag back to my apartment with me, where I proceeded to enjoy the delectable goodness of deep-friedness (although, alas, it is not the same as Long John Silvers). Clearly I will need to invest in a bottle of Heinz ketchup, since the ketchup that they gave me was the same miserable, too-sweet stuff that is always to be found in Europe, but all in all I was quite pleased. Better yet, the fish and chips place is open until like one a.m., which will be quite useful for me as I begin to work even more on the stuff that I have going on in Dublin. It already stays light so unbelievably late (until after eight, and we just passed the spring equinox), and by the time the solstice hits in June, it will stay light until eleven p.m. This is perfect for me--as my workload increases, the sunshine will too, so I can work a few minutes later every day and still manage to catch half an hour of sunlight at the end of it. Awesome!

I'm quite excited about the weekend, and now that I have cash I may be able to actually go someplace and do something that doesn't involve wandering within two blocks of my apartment. I need to go out Saturday morning anyway, so afterward I will probably wander around, do some shopping, perhaps buy a cellphone, and generally scope out my environs. Sunday will probably be more of the same, unless I decide to catch up on sleep and work, but I'm trying to set goals of not having to work on the weekends, and I might as well start now.

Regardless, Dublin in really cool. Even the two blocks around my apartment, strange though they are because they are essentially a quay that has been converted into apartments and office space, and was probably rather seedy a few years ago, are really cool. There are all of these cute terraced houses, with either a little tiny lawn or a one-car parking space in front, all closed off by neat little iron railings. In the two-block walk to the convenience store I have been frequenting, I pass directly by three pubs, and I'm sure there are more within a stone's throw down any of the side streets. I also live by a DART (Dublin area rapid transit--sound familiar?) station, which gets an 'x' for noise but a 'check for convenience, even though it hasn't been quite so convenient during my cash- and time-strapped first few days.

Currently I would pay dearly for a full night's sleep and an end to this pesky sore throat; I thought I was getting sick a week ago, but I've just maintained the same sore throat without experiencing any additional symptoms. If I am lucky, perhaps I'll get consumption (tuberculosis) while I'm here; I didn't pick up bubonic plague in India, but consumption seems so much more romantic and writerly anyway. I think it would be great fun to be wrapped up in a muffler and a comfy sweater, coughing blood into a handkerchief while writing an epic tragedy that will survive the onslaught of time. I have mentioned this fantasy before, however, and I am aware that having consumption is probably not as romantic as it sounds. This is particularly true since a) most consumption is now caught from spending large quantities of time around homeless people, and b) the treatment requires a significant amount of rather unpleasant drugs. The treatment used to involve taking a vacation at a seaside resort, which is pretty appealling--but I guess the treatment also used to be completely ineffective, so you sort of have to pick your battles.

Regardless, Dublin has some amazing literary history, and I'm looking forward to exploring it more over the next few months. There's a big festival here soon to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Samuel Beckett's birth, and I'm going to have to see if I can get tickets to see a performance of 'Waiting for Godot.' Not that I really have much knowledge of Beckett, nor have I read the play, which I guess makes me an elitist poser, but I've always loved the title and I might as well see it in Dublin, right? I shall leave you to debate whether any of this post made sense; it's time for me to go to bed.

green black and blue, make the colors in the sky

I should have brought my playstation and my Dance Dance Revolution pads; I ended up in a ground-floor flat, and so if I decided to 'stomp it to my beat', as one of the songs proclaims, I wouldn't have bothered anyone. That would probably end soon, though, since I will get a roommate in a couple of weeks, and not everyone is particularly indulgent towards ridiculous techno music combined with bizarre imported videogames.

While I still have not gone more than two blocks from my apartment, I can already list some ups and downs (or checks and x;s, if you will):

check: the snack rooms at the office have real mugs for tea, so that you can have a civilized cuppa instead of slurping your tea out of a paper cup like those barbaric colonials in the States.

x: the snack rooms at the office seem to specialize in a strange flavor of yogurt: rhubarb. I've never seen rhubarb yogurt before, and I think there's a good reason for that. Sometimes the colonials do get something right; but I guess a country that was ravaged by famine will eat anything. Which leads me to...

x: flavored potato chips. Whether you call them chips or crisps, sometimes you just want a nice, salty, otherwise-unflavored potato. The anonymous (but guessable) commenter about this issue a few posts ago was right that it's difficult to find unflavored chips anywhere. The office had a couple of bags of sour cream and onion, (which I got used to in India, where the only other alternatives were 'Spanish Style Tomato Tango', 'Caribbean Style Chili', 'Indian Style Magic Masala', and a v. infrequent plain chip that usually made my day when I found it); but, the sour cream and onion ran out today. I tried the salt and vinegar, which was mostly okay, but when they're too vinegary, they make me want to cry. We'll see how this works out, but given that my expat diet typically consists of sandwiches (thank you, Earl of Sandwich! and also, thank you Sri for enjoying sandwiches as much as I do) and chips, this could be v. sad.

check: Irish accents. They're all lilting and beautiful, even when I can't understand them. They make you want to turn off the laptop, throw it out the nearest window, and head down to the pub for a nice pint or three. This is problematic, since the laptop probably won't be turned off at all for the next six months.

Okay, I have tons to do tomorrow and I intended to be in bed ages ago. But, considering that I had to a) unpack my clothes so that I could stop looking like a wrinkled mess, b) prep for some meetings tomorrow, and c) write in my blog so that people wouldn't immediately leap to the conclusion that I had died in some particularly-gruesome leprechaun-related stabbing, I didn't get to bed as early as I should have. I am going to immediately rectify that unfortunate situation--goodnight!

new look, same great taste

Okay, I lied about going to bed--I decided to play around with my blog formatting instead. In honor of my move to a foreign country, this blog is now green--green for Ireland, green for my eyes, and green for the envy that I feel towards all of you with access to bona fide Mexican food. The content will continue to be a familiar mish-mash of overly-long posts full of the minutiae of my daily life, photos of absurd or evocative sights, and slightly whacked-out paragraphs hastily written after fourteen hours in the office. This template change, combined with the post and photos below, are all you're getting out of me tonight--it's definitely, definitely time for bed.

soup and sandwiches

Continuing my record, I have yet to go more than two blocks away from my apartment. Actually, 'blocks' is an approximation, since roads don't really create perfect perpendicular intersections and nice, dependable squares, but it's a good guess for distance. However, I did make it to the same convenience store that I found the other night, thus rescuing myself from the horrid fate of eating potato chips for dinner for the second night in a row. I procured some sketchy (but tasty) fish chowder and some stuff for sandwiches, so I should be good for tomorrow as well.

I currently face a couple of dilemmas. 1) I haven't tracked down an ATM, so I have no cash with which to pay a taxi, a food delivery person, or anyone else. 2) I have no phone in my apartment, nor do I have a cellphone, so I can't order any delivery food. 3) Grocery stores appear to be too far away for serious shopping, but since I have no cash, I can't take a cab or train. 4) The major grocery store here, Tesco, apparently delivers, but this brings me back to points 1 and 2. Sigh. Clearly I just need to take a walk that's slightly longer than two blocks (or even, potentially, just a walk that's two blocks in a different direction), but I'm so busy that I haven't had time to explore yet. Hopefully this weekend will lend me adequate exploration time. If not, there's always next weekend--I apparently get both Good Friday and Easter Monday off (thank you, Catholics!), so a four-day weekend will definitely help me to get settled.

Now, though, it's time for bed; and I sincerely hope that there aren't a million box elder bugs (see below) in my apartment when I wake up.

In case the family was curious--a box elder bug did make it to Ireland. Box elder bugs (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Box_elder_bug) are a veritable plague in Iowa this spring, and they were absolutely everywhere when I was home--I would wake up with several in my waterglass every morning. I admired this bug's tenacity in surviving 1) a freezing trip to Des Moines in the back of my father's truck, 2) a long plane ride to Ireland, and 3) several days of being moved back and forth in a v. heavy suitcase. However, after taking its picture, I promptly squished it--I had no desire to infest Ireland, particularly since St. Patrick is no longer around to get rid of them like he did all those snakes. 

My new living room, replete with 'art'. 

My new kitchen, after an afternoon cleaning by the housekeeper. 

My new bedroom...I had to wrestle with my conscience, since I don't have a roommate yet and could have chosen the smaller bedroom, but the amount of stuff I brought necessitates major closet space. 

For those of you who may be curious--a view of the hole that is quickly becoming my parents' new basement. The pond in the background was made by my father a few years ago. Move to Iowa, inhabit vast quantities of space. 

hello ireland!

I have arrived in Dublin, and so far it's the bombdiggity. Not quite as much of the bombdiggitysss as friends are, to reference a particularly low point in my past literary prowess, but it's pretty cool nonetheless. We'll see if I continue to feel this way after I've actually gone out and explored. I had grand plans yesterday to get off the plane, drop off my bags, and then go out and buy a phone and a hair dryer, but once I got to the apartment, I quickly realized I had no desire to navigate around an unfamiliar city in the rain. I did keep myself awake all afternoon by playing 'Civilization', which wasn't perhaps the most productive thing I could have done, but it was certainly effective.

Judging by what I've eaten since arriving in Ireland, this might not be the healthiest place for me. Last night, after not eating for ten hours, I finally ventured out and found a convenience store, where I procured a couple of frozen mini-pizzas and a small bottle of Diet Coke. I had one of the pizzas last night for dinner, nothing for breakfast today, some small amount of Indian food (how ironic!) for lunch, and rice krispies as a snack. I didn't get back to my apartment until nine p.m., and I thought that I could tide myself over with a bag of potato chips (aka 'crisps'), but when I discovered that I might faint from hunger, I ate the other frozen pizza instead. Isn't that all delightful? Clearly, finding a grocery store ranks right up there with getting a phone as the most important pending task.

Okay, time for bed, I'll take some pictures or something when I have more energy.

goodbye united states

Sorry that it's been so long since I've written...I got home safely v. late Monday night, and then would have spent most of the week relaxing except for the fact that I had a ton of work to do, so it didn't really feel like a vacation. I spent tonight trying to pack up; I'm taking more to Ireland than I took to India, partially because they dress up more in Ireland and I require more winter clothes there, and partially because I missed my stuff in India and made up for it by buying way too many new possessions. I also had a v. nice dinner with my nephew and nieces in honor of the nephew's 12th birthday--I can't believe they're all getting so grown up! I packed some sufficiently-greasy meals and some sufficiently-late sleep into my trip home, but it would be nice to be here a little bit longer. Ah, well, c'est la vie. The worst thing is that I picked up my brother's sore throat, and I would imagine that it will get worse as soon as I get on the plane. Sadly for me, I already have a ton of meetings lined up for Monday, but hopefully I'll get a chance to settle in on Sunday.

Okay, time to finish packing--the next time I write, I'll be in Ireland!

vidya and claudia - winning 

my v. packed storage room 

friends++ at buca di beppos 

we may have been stuck in tahoe for four hours, but at least it was beautiful 

I SWITCHED FOR CRISPIES 

in tracy, ca, they call long john silver's crispies 'krums' 

do not be concerned by the fact that the suitcases obstruct the rear window. 

the worst hotel room view in the world: elko, nv 

150 years ago, i could have crossed this as brigham young's 83rd wife 

the great american west 

wyoming, home of rocks 

is the homeland security threat 'blizzard'? 

my fast can't hear the sound of the engine over all that country music

So far, the trip across the Great American West has been fun, but it is taking much longer than I expected. It took us nine hours to get out of California, which was completely unwelcome. Granted, we didn't leave my place (or rather, my office, where we printed off directions) until 11am, and we spent almost an hour and a half in Tracy eating Long John Silvers and fixing my sideview mirror.

That's right, my sideview mirror, which was broken on an infamous Fourth of July trip two and a half years ago, is now fixed, thanks to my brother's technical skill and a stop for tools at Sears. However, I got angry all over again at that stupid Pontiac dealership in Menlo Park--when my brother was putting the new mirror on, he discovered that they had given me a manual mirror, rather than a power mirror. Luckily, the new mirror fits, but it will never be adjustable from the inside. Damn them! This made me even happier that they have since gone out of business.

Anyway, we were making fantastic time getting out of the Bay Area, and my brother had quite happily fallen asleep, when we hit a sign around Placer County that said 'heavy traffic over summit - expect three hour delays'. In a typical display of California stupidity, Caltrans was requiring chains on all vehicles on the summit before Truckee, and while it was snowing, there was just slush on the road. As my brother pointed out, chains do keep idiots from going too fast, but the consequence is that they destroy the roads and back up traffic for hours. Luckily, I had the chains that I was forced to buy the last time that I was trying to get out of Tahoe, and we paid some guy twenty dollars to do it for us, which saved a lot of cursing and sibling bickering (and dirtiness and dampness and general annoyance). Past the chain control checkpoint, the road really cleared up, so we made fabulous time out of Reno.

The problem was that by the time we got out of Reno, it was eight p.m. I was able to keep going until midnight (partially thanks to a 'cappuccino' at a convenience store in lovely Winnemucca, NV--it was definitely not a real cappuccino, but it was full of sugar and caffeine, so it kept me up for another hour). By the time we hit Elko, NV, we were still three hours out of Salt Lake City, I couldn't go any further, and I was in a truly foul mood from being in the car for thirteen hours without making it through California and Nevada. So, we stopped at a Comfort Inn in Elko. The place was fine, what with the complimentary high-speed internet access (key! although I was too tired to blog), but the fact that it wasn't in Salt Lake City made me hate it.

So we woke up this morning, and our mother called--to say that the road reports for Wyoming indicate that I-80 is closed west of Laramie. Sweet! We definitely don't need any more road closures, since I looked up the distance from Elko to Cheyenne, and it's exactly 666 miles--armageddon! I had hoped to make it into Nebraska, but I doubt that that will happen, since we probably won't hit Cheyenne before ten p.m., even without any road closures.

We're currently going across the salt flats in Utah, and we just passed the Nevada/Utah border. I can write this because my brother is driving, and I have to keep typing or else I'll grab the scissors in the glovebox and stab him in the face--I love the kid, and we're getting along really well, but he just popped in the 'Garth Brooks Double Live' CD, and so the volume is pumped up and he's singing along to tales of jealous wives, jealous husbands, Baton Rouge, etc., etc. I shall exact my revenge with DJ Tiesto's Summerbreeze mix this afternoon--it will cost me something since I can't sing along to techno, but the raw pain evident in his features will be worth it.

My last night in California was really great. We had dinner with fourteen of my closest friends at Buca di Beppo in Palo Alto, which lasted for about four hours, and much fun was had by all. It had the unfortunate side effect of keeping me up way too late, but I'm glad that we went out. It was a strange mix of people; my oldest friends were there (Claudia, Zach, Adit, Oniel), some of the newer additions to that group were there (Vidya, Sri, Jackie), my brother and Claudia's brother were in attendance (and unfortunately the death match between them didn't happen), and some of my former-residents-turned-friends (Tom, Shari, Julie, Rachel, and Kyle) showed up as well. All of those groups are really winning, although I can't repeat most of the conversations that we had because this is a family blog. I don't want to risk the future, when the FCC will suddenly get control of all blogs and retroactively fine everyone for indecency, so I will have to avoid all mention of what was discussed at dinner. But, it was an appropriately raucous send-off, and I can't wait to see everyone in six months.

I think I'm going to see if playing Civilization will make it easier for me to ignore the music; I'll let you know how that goes.

goodbye california!

hello extremely packed car and very long drive to iowa!

i'm out. i'll blog on the road if i have internet, otherwise i'll be back in contact monday night.

this is all you get

Figure out what I did today from this random string of words:

talking chalupa cellphone parents conferencecall lunch alaska 150miles drycleaning packing sorting stacking picturetaking vidya meeting whiteboard thinking packingpeanuts puppy hotsauce email yak dietcoke sparechange suitcase video terry rust gasoline passportphoto walter im reorg sayonara

Now, with less than six hours of sleep before me, I'm off to bed!

only cream and bastards rise

Sorry about the hiatus, but I can't really blog when I don't have a computer, or when I'm insanely tired. Actually, I can blog when I'm insanely tired, as I am proving right now, but I didn't really feel like it. One night of my hiatus was definitely not my fault, though--my work computer got replaced before my departure, and so I was sans computer overnight while they transferred my data to my new computer. I was kinda sad to see the old computer go; it had gotten slow, and old, and the little mouse-nubbin had worn away, but there were times when it was my only friend. Okay, that's an exaggeration. But, I have slept with my computer more than I have with any person since I got the computer back in 2003, and that forges a strong (albeit depressing) bond.

Unluckily, the guys who do all the computer stuff aren't allowed to transfer music because it takes too long. Luckily, I was anticipating the upgrade and so had backed up all my music. Unluckily, I had about eighteen data cds' worth of mp3s. I haven't had enough time at my desk in the last couple of days to get everything re-ripped, so I can only listen to songs by artists between 2Pac and Jimmy Buffett. It's a little funny that that's where my library currently begins and ends, considering I never listen to either of those fine artists. Luckily, my music currently spans such favorites as Harvey Danger, Counting Crows, and Institute, so I'll probably survive until I have everything uploaded again.

The past few days have been fun (luckily). Monday night, I saw 'The Libertine' with Tammy. We caught the 10:15 show, which was a little dumb, but since I had a conference call from 7:30 to 8:30, I didn't have much choice. We both really liked it; I never thought that I would appreciate someone whose nose fell off due to an advanced case of syphilis, but it really works when Johnny Depp is the guy playing the syphilitic. I particularly enjoyed that the filmmakers made London look like it probably would have looked back in the day, what with all the mud, rats, poor peasants, and rich syphilitics. What I *didn't* enjoy is that I was using wikipedia the next day to read more about the origins of syphilis--and as I was leisurely scrolling through the page, I was quite dismayed to find that someone had uploaded a couple of pictures of what syphilis looks like. Ugh! I mean, it's not like I have never seen any graphic depictions of human genitalia, given my job, but a) I wasn't expecting this and b) at least the stuff that I've seen at work typically wasn't covered in lesions. There really should be more warning about things like that. Of course, this blog post could lead to the Justice Dept trying to censor Wikipedia, which would be a tragedy because wikipedia is a fantastic source of information. Hopefully it will be able to continue without any type of external censorship (although some internal censorship regarding the posting of disgusting pictures might be appreciated).

Tammy spent the last couple of nights here studying, which was fine with me, since I ditched her and went to bed. Last night, before she came over, I went to the Creamery and had dessert with Shedletsky and Eric (the Viking), which was really fun. Then, I went to latenight on campus (despite the fact that I took my last final almost three years ago) and had coffee with Roopa. I really love Roopa, and I wish that I would have hung out with her more when I had the opportunity--she's a cool kid, but now I'm moving away, so our friendship will be no more :(

Tonight, I had dinner with Claudia at our favorite mexican restaurant. I'm starting to realize how much I'm going to miss her, and the rest of my friends; I'm sort of following the same trajectory that I followed when I was leaving for India, in which I was so busy getting ready to leave that I didn't think about the implications of leaving until it was too late to do anything about it. Oh well. Hopefully I will get some fun visitors in Dublin--and as I know from previous experience, six months flies by. I've already been back from India for five months, even though it oscillates between feeling like five days and five years, so six months in Ireland will be a piece of cake.

One more item of interest: when I got home, I realized that someone had shown up to clean the apartment. When I opened the door, I had to unlock the deadbolt, which was freaky because I knew that Tammy had left after me, and she doesn't have a key to lock the deadbolt from the outside. So, as I was freaking out about how Tammy could have gotten out and left the door locked at the same time, I realized that everything was slightly tidier. Then I discovered that it was a lot tidier--like, the place was vacuumed, the towels in the bathroom were replaced, the trash was removed, and they even changed the color scheme of the bedding on my bed. Crazy! I'm so spoiled it's not even funny.

Okay, definitely time for bed--only two more nights in California!

the angel from my nightmare

The aftermath of my party was admittedly not quite as fun as the party itself, but that's to be expected of any party that consists almost entirely of irish car bombs. I woke up around noon (which isn't absurdly late considering that I went to bed at 4:30), and then Claudia and I had dim sum for the final time before I leave. I was completely stuffed by the end of it, since we ordered all the old favorites--egg custard buns, rice noodles stuffed with pork, deep fried shrimp with mayonnaise, har gar (aka tasty shrimp families), deep fried shrimp in bean curd, and baked bbq pork pastries. That's a lot of food for two people, especially when one person doesn't want to eat much and the other one has a raging hangover, but we pushed through to victory.

I ran some errands after dim sum, although my dark sunglasses really came in handy to ward off the cruelly-sunny day; it was of course my luck that the sun was shining for the first time in two weeks on precisely the day that I would have chosen rain. Anyway, I dropped a purse off at a cobbler to get the strap repaired, then went to the mall to stock up on makeup and moisturizer before my trip. I got the *best* free sample set at Lancome; the gift contained minis of all of my favorite things (a 4-color eyeshadow set of dusty pinks and blacks, my favorite pink lipstick, my favorite shiny lipgloss, and the best mascara in the world). I've never gotten a gift from them that ever contained anything that I would ever purchase on my own, and to get all of the things that I purchase frequently was amazing.

I made the mistake of reinstalling 'Civilization' yesterday, because I didn't want to pack, clean up (the apartment still smells vaguely of beer and pizza), or study for the foreign service exam. So, I got absolutely nothing done. But, Tammy came over for a couple of hours and rescued me briefly from my dorkiness. Thanks for that, Tammy, even if we didn't end up watching 'The Two Towers' like I know you secretly longed for.

Today, I saw 'V for Vendetta' with Zach. I really liked it, but I am inclined to like any movie that promises vengeance, retribution, and effective civilian revolt in the face of totalitarianism. The likelihood that the plot would have worked was implausible at best, but the effects were good and I really like the voice of Hugo Weaving (known for his roles as Agent Smith in 'The Matrix' and Elrond in 'The Lord of the Rings'--and so now he can sound both fair and menancing at the same time without even really trying, which is exactly what this part demanded). One word of advice to you, though--sell your Google stock and buy Dell. After another world war ravages the earth, and after a mysterious virus wipes out most of America (to the point that America is sending offerings of wheat and tobacco to England in a desperate plea for medicines), Google is nowhere to be found on the English governments' computers--but they are using Dell monitors. Who knew that Dell would still be around in 2020? I certainly didn't, but I'm about to get a lot smarter about my investments.

I only have five-ish days left in California, a fact that my mind is shying away from. Luckily I don't have too much to do--I need to do laundry, and I need to pack up my car and take the rest of my stuff to storage, and I need to change my oil, and of course see ten or twenty people, but that's all pretty standard for me, so I think I'll handle it well. I'm looking forward to my trip back across the Great American West, and to my brief vacation...but two weeks from now, I'll be going into the Dublin office for the first time. Scary! Now, though, I need to sleep.

once upon an irish time

Vidya is about to fall asleep on my couch. This is v. exciting, since she rarely falls asleep on my couch; in fact, this is the first time that this has happened, as far as I can remember. Also, it is exciting that Claudia is going to sleep in my bed; this is the consequence of throwing a St. Patrick's Day party in which two of the major participants are encouraged to sleep over rather than driving home.

If you didn't come to my place tonight, you really missed out. It may not be apparent from my diligent attempts at proofreading and correcting (aka 'guess and check typing'), but I had at least five Irish Car Bombs, as well as some Smirnoff Ices, and pizza and chips (not alcoholic, but also not typical items on my daily menu since I'm trying to eat better, so almost as intoxicating as Irish whiskey).

Did you know that whisky is spelled 'whiskey' in Ireland and 'whisky' in Scotland? I do! and now you do too. How do you think that happened? Which Scotsman, after stumbling home from a night at the pub, decided to excise the 'e' from whiskey's existence? Or, what Irishman decided to add an 'e' as a sign of independence and spelling superiority? The world may never know, but I was quite intrigued by this fact.

Anyway, the party was a smashing success. It was actually like two or three parties in one; the first 'party' mostly consisted of Terry watching the NCAA tournament while Claudia, Vidya and I alternately ate pizza and got ready for the party. Party Two consisted mostly of my co-workers, who showed up at the advertised time and seemed to enjoy themselves. Party Three consisted of my former residents, who showed up after drinking for several hours, and who proceeded to scare everyone else away before hanging out for quite a long time. I'm thrilled that so many people came, and I'm trying to be positive about what I have rather than melancholy about what I'm leaving behind.

Now, it's time to go to bed. Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone!

hey tonto, jump on it!

I'm super tired; after going to bed late last night, I had to be in the office by seven a.m. today. I was there for eleven hours, but still felt like a slacker for leaving at 6:15. But, I had a really important preso (as corporate people, ugh, call presentations) that went well, and I got a lot done. I took a break to have dinner with Claudia; we were supposed to see 'The Libertine', but I didn't really have time for a movie outing, and neither did most of the other people who were going to go. Instead, Claude and I had sushi, and we got lucky enough to see Oniel, who stopped by the same restaurant to grab takeout. Yay.

Then, I came home and worked for another three hours while watching the second half of 'Fellowship of the Ring'. If Tammy shows up to my going-away party tomorrow, I would make her watch 'The Two Towers', since I know she secretly wants to, but I don't want to scare away my coworkers with evidence of my lameness.

Okay, no more from me tonight, I'm exhausted. Don't expect a post tomorrow, since my party should still be in full swing 24 hours from now, but maybe you'll be fortunate enough to hear from me this weekend.