Wednesday Night in Ireland

Sorry, my brain is in no state today to think up things to write. But the blog has been negleted these past few days so I thought a post today needed to be written. Been humdrum settling into life here, taking it easy and writing a lot, then last night was all about madness and debauchery. I partied like only the Irish can party. Oh it was spectacular craic! Trad music at the Persian and whompin' rock and roll at chez Marty. Hung out with some of the finest people in the world. It was an all-singing all-dancing revue. Stumbled home round about 6am, the ipod playing me some good walking tunes of Dixie Chicks and Fratellis. Class. However, you do the crime you gotta do the time, and it's hard to be awake today. The good news was that I didn't work until 12:30. The bad news is that there's an upstairs to the cafe and all day long my legs felt jellified and I was sure I was going to either drop something or collapse. I did neither! Score.

So that's really all the news here.

Oh, and I'm going to Croatia, but that's not until October.

Monster Trucks!

Last night was the great Carndonagh Monster Truck Rally! It was great fun but the vehicle my team had was RUBBISH! I actually want one if I ever have any kids - that thing was a workout to ride! Our team only got it around the diamond twice (you were supposed to go around three times). The winning team had done it's three rounds by the time I was half-way round our second. I question the legitimacy of the winning team's vehicle though, it was pretty hardcore, more like the reclining bikes I see sometimes in Seattle rather than anything you'd see a kid riding. All in good fun though. Due to the nature of how one sits in the vehicle I was riding and the shortness of my costume I think I ended up flashing every child in Carndonagh, typical American. The evening did, however, produce what it probably the hotest picture of me ever, and two of the scariest pictures of Marty Kelly ever. Regard...

This is a pic of a few of the teams, I think there were maybe 10 or so in all. Dracula was one of my teammates!

Painting, Poems, Chinese Food and Spiders

Yesterday I helped Marty Kelly paint the entryway of his brother's house. It was the first time I've seen him paint. It was spectacular. It was this crazy abstract of a single yellow color around all the walls. Breathtaking. And by "helped" I mean sat and yaked and read him a poem about wasps. Then we listened to a song about a washing machine and I took it upon us to write a poem about a Tumble Dryer. It will follow below. Suddenly we realized the lateness of the hour and had to make a a dash to the chinese food take away. It was 10:15 at night and this chinese food place was hopping! But it was the only place you could get wine after 10 so we opted for that rather than the veg burgers and fries we were gonna make. So we chowed on chinese food and watch the Big Brother eviction. Big Brother here is a legend and it shows every night. Crazy. And finally the spider. So Marty Kelly is deathy afraid of spiders, and this morning when he was sweeping up he uncovered a rather large specimen. But with the help of my keen mind I set up a plan! The spider was hiding underneath the sofa in a room next to the now yellow entryway. I devised a plan wherein Marty stood on one of the seats in the living room and heaved the couch. I, holding the boom aloft, spotted the spider and swept it out the front door, and as per Marty's instructions, "as far away as I could get it". Phew. Close call.

And now - some classy poetry!!!!

Ode To A Tumble Dryer, With The Help Of Marty Kelly

Tumble Dryer you broke my heart
For years you spun my garments dry
One time I left you on too long and the heat was intense
I was chafed for days
And I cried silently with the washing machine
The toaster laughed and mocked me
English muffins never tasted the same again, not even with gooseberry jam
Especially with gooseberry jam
But now you lay cold and untumbling
There is something inside of you that I can’t fix
I cleaned out your lint trap
I changed the fuses
And still you remain silent, sullen
I called the repairman for help
But your parts are too old, unavailable
Tumble Dryer believe me I tried my hardest to fix you
Thank you for the years of toasty clothes
But the garbage truck is rumbling down the street
And it’s time
It’s time

Yeah, most of my poems are actually loads better than this, but in a strange way, I am rather fond of this one. I think it would probably work well as a country song.

Greetings y'all

Good craic last night at The Persian; excellent music, a roaring fire, three pints of Guinness, a shot of whiskey, a trio of French girls and a mandolin player from Nashville! Yowza! Somehow, cowboy boots and big metal belt buckle included, one of the band members touring with Justin Earle (son of Steve Earle) ended up at The Persian last night. I thought he was kidding when he said he was from Nashville! We bonded over tales of Seattle and The Tractor (a local Seattle music venue). I have him to thank for the third pint of Guinness and the whiskey, and without him I may have actually been able to wake up today without the room spinning. Thank you Cory. Show your support for some boys from Nashville, the new album is called The Good Life, and I endorse it whole-heartedly even though I've never heard it. Well I listened to a few songs on MySpace and thoroughly enjoyed them. Contrary to what you may be thinking, the title does not refer to yours truly. Though perhaps I should adpot it as my theme song.

The French girls there were couchsurfing with Marty Kelly. It was raining and Marty gave them all fancy dress hats to wear, which made things amusingly surreal; three french girls walking around wearing funny hats in a crowded Irish pub called The Persian. Priceless.

Ah, the good life ;)

Fancy Dress = costume

So the big fun this Saturday night is the Carndonagh Monster Truck Rally, which is actually not what it sounds. Rather, teams of three "kidults" race around the center of town (called The Diamond as it is diamond shaped) riding on tricycles in what everyone kept telling me was "fancy dress." I was gung-ho from the start, and even though I wondered why one would want to wear their fancy clothes to an outdoor race at night, I kept making a note in my head to go out one day and find a posh looking fancy outfit to wear. So last night I was mentioning to my housemate and her friend that I didn't have anything to wear for the event, and the two of them assured me that they had plenty I could wear - a hippie coustume, an Elvis costume, a cat costume... It was at this point that I began to suspect that something was fishy, and the connections began to leap together in my brain. "I'm going to take a wild stab here," I ventured. "Does "fancy dress" mean costume?" At which point they looked at me like I'd just asked what a potato was. Turns out, yes, the term "fancy dress" refers not to swanky posh outfits, but rather to costumes. And now I know.

Tonight is traditional Irish music night at one of the local pubs, The Persian. Trust me, I've had endless revelry and delight from the irony of traditional Irish music being played in a pub called The Persian. Most of the group that plays every wed. night are sisters of the two amazing women who own the cafe, and I got to hear a little of it when last I was here but it was late by then I was already a few sheets to the wind, so it'll be extra nice hearing them tonight from the very beginning and *realitivly* sober.

Yesterday was the first fairly nice day since I've arrived, and I thought how nice it would be to sit out in the sun with a book and get some fresh air and read. So after my shift eating cereal was over I wandered down to the local little bookshop and proceded to waste almost the rest of the day wandering around the shop, getting totally lost in all the great stuff they had that you don't normally see in an American book store. My quest to buy one book ended with me leaving burdened with the weight of ten, and the anticipation of many grey days spent by the fire with a cup of tea and my imagination. Always a dangerous combo.

And my last thoughts of the day have been about how strange it's been to basically pull up out of one life and replace it with such a similar one thousands of miles away. It's like a Twilight Zone episode. Everything is so oddly similar and yet so vastly different - even the weather! Like I've woken up in a parallel universe. Everything seems like a rough copy of my life back in Seattle, which, sigh, does not bode well for my love life! Ah well, at least I've got my books... and my poetry to protect me ;)

Scotland Options

So while I'm here I'm hoping to get up tp Scotland for a while. There is a tentative plan to climb Ben Nevis, but other than that I've no idea of what to do. I'm not into big cities, I'd much rather explore the countryside, which does prove difficult when you have to rely on public transportation. So I just thought I'd ask the blog and see if anyone reading has any reccomendations for places to go and things to see. You can either reply in the comments section or you can e-mail me at ratempress@comcast.net

Thanks y'all.

Address

Oh yeah, and should anyone like to send me any tibits or treasures, well, firstly be warned that it costs A LOT of money to post things to Ireland, but feel free to send as much as you like as it'll make me feel loved. Give it about, oh say, one or two more days before the honesickness descends and I'll probably really need all the love I can get!

Allison Cossitt
29 Cedar Grove
Carndonagh
Co. Donegal
Ireland

Alternatively you can send me e-mails of well-wishing as they will be much appreciated and free!

More pics

The dancefloor at the nightclub

My housemate Leann

Marty Kelly, Eminem, me

The best bloke in Carn!
Walking home. The light from the steetlamps was a spectacular amber.

The benefits of jet lag and insomnia

Finally the first Guinness back in Ireland!

The Arch, a local pub

Some very lovely Italian man I talked to briefly, let's call him Sergio, Marty Kelly, moi!

Jenny, the best chef in Carn

Saint Claire, me and Marty

Lemme tell ya about the craic last night. Well first lemme tell ya about craic. It's pronounced "crack" and it means any and all fun and happening. Instead of "how are you?" or "how's it going?" many Irish people will ask "what's the craic?" And last night the craic was ace! Not only did I go out, but I had fun! Trust me, I was just as surprised as all of you who know me as a notorious homebody. It started with an engagement party, punch and champange, continued at the pub with my first Guinness back in Ireland!!! and finished off at the local nightclub with dancing and a prismatic floor. Ah, it was great craic. Was it the jet lag, the slight insomnia I've been experiencing lately or just the rush of a brilliant night of, I was out until 4am and loved it.

Discoveries

Phew. Just got through with my first shift - let's create a euphenism here to throw off the INS - my first shift eating cereal at the Carndonagh cafe. It's quite similar to eating cereal in Seattle, but the focus here is more on, oh, let's say more on the cereal and less on the milk. It's pretty straightforward but just having to learn all the ins and outs is always tricky, and four hours later I'm certainly feeling it. But it's a good feeling to have begun to actually live here and not just be a tourist anymore. I definitely think my time eating cereal at Ladro will prove a great benefit, just with the general flow of things in a busy cafe and such.

Interesting tidbit of note, turns out there's really no such thing as going on a first date here, especially in Carn but apparently for the most part in all or Ireland. It seems that two people hook up, in a bar or nightclub or someone's car, and as long as both parties agree, the two are dating. There's no "hey cute American girl, would you care to accompany me to the pub for a Guinness and thought-provoking conversation?" Rather, according to my fellow cereal eaters, there's the drunken hook-up, then you occasionally see the person, usually while out drinking, and more often than not, as quoted by one of the lades here, "the first time you see them sober is on your wedding day." Who says romance is dead?! It's just passed out on the couch snoring. Sigh. I think I should have lived back when wooing was more popular. Now it's a lost art, even in, and especially in it seems, Ireland.

It rains in Ireland. A lot.

Saturday morning at the cafe, walked over in less than a deluge but more than a trickle. I forgot to bring my raincoat over and have yet to purchase an umbrella so really there's no complaining allowed. But there's actually not much to complain about. Sure it would be grand if there was sun sun sun but I'll just take being here. Plus it may be wet wet wet but it's surprisingly warm. Don't get me wrong, it's still chilly, let's total the layers worn walking here - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Yes I got up to 6! A new world record in layering, and if I had my raincoat it would have been 7. Mostly though I just don't know when I'll be home or how cold it will get as the day progresses so I figured I'd layere away and see what happens.

So this is day four of Guinness watch. Whilst I've had loads and loads of great cups of tea, I still have yet to indulge in that first pint of Guinness. Fear not! Unless all fails, tonight will be the night! Come to think of it, maybe the weather doesn't seem so bad due to the thick river of tea running through my veins. Now we just need to mix it with the Guinness and I'll be tops baby.

Not a lot going on yet, and really, all those who are anticipating wild adventures and crazy schemes are bound to be a tad disappointed I fear. Well, until I hop over to Scotland (which is still quite tentitive actually). Mostly the blogs will probably read like this - tea, cafe, tea, cafe, tea, Guinness, cafe, tea, rain. There. There's the blog really for the next two months! I'm off the hook! Sweet.

Carn

So even though I just posted the last post, I wrote it yesterday at the aeroport but was just now able to send it off. So here's the skinny, and keep in mind that my brain is still a little addled so forgive any blatent misuses of phrase/speeling or grammer! So I arrived in Carn at my cafe where Marty Kelly was waiting for me. After some tea and chatting we took a walk to my future home for the next three months. Marty assured me that he knew where abouts the house was since he had lived in the same development a while back. Well as we approached he suddenly realized that I was to be living in the very same house that he had lived in a few years back. And not only that it's the very same bedroom that he had been in as well! So regard the amazing coincedence that everywhere I go in Carn, it seems I end up sleeping where Marty Kelly once slept. Trippy.

Speaking of sleep, after pretty much 52 hours of being awake I finally crashed at around 10:30 last night. When I awoke today it was pissing down rain and it was hard to judge the time. I figured it could have been 8am, could have been noon, who knows. So I'm sitting there eating brekkie and my flatmate comes in and asked if I was just up to which I replyed yep and oh what time was it. To which she replied oh a bit after four. Yowza! Guess I musta been tired yup. And now I gotta fly the cafe where I can get internet is soon closing! Love ya all!

Roommate Sandwiches

Sitting outside the Dublin aeroport, freezing me arse off! Seriously doods I can see my breath. Outside at dinner in Seattle the night before I left I was in a sleeveless shirt and strappy sandals. Ah but I can’t really go complaining now can I? It’s not like I wasn’t mightily warned and, AND, I’m in feckin’ Ireland so what am I whinging on about? So chillily I’m waiting for my us to take me up to Carndonagh, my fingers bemoaning the gloves I left behind, rejected at the last moment before leaving, my adventurous nature balking “Ha! Gloves? I won’t need those in August, I’m hardy enough to withstand a little cool Irish weather!” And, to be sure, I am, it’s not like I’m huddled in a corner burning my short sleeved shirts to stay warm, it’s just that, well, yeah, being a smidge warmer would certainly be lovely right now. Another plus – the cold air is keeping me alert, lest I miss my bus from nodding off. It’s 1:08am right now in Seattle.

So let me tell you about how great my roommates are. Way, way, WAY great. I adore them. Last night I was out somewhat latish and I arrived home at a time when both of them are traditionally already abed. Well Jordan was up raving about some imaginary mothra devil inhabiting his room. It was coming out and apparently rifling through his sock drawer or something. I was busy dancing around, alternately heaving woeful sighs and bursting out in fits of delighted laughter so I can’t remember the exactly details. Nuka, awakened by our late night romping came into JHo’s room, where we all piled onto his bed and proceeded to chatter and giggle (well, I think I did most of the giggling) like high school girls loopy on pixie sticks. In spite of the late hour, they both stayed up for a while with me, each of us grateful for the others’ attention, understanding and loyalty. As always there was also a goodly amount of ridicule as well, couldn’t be a real heart to heart involving JHo without it. Finally, retiring became inevitable as we all had very early mornings coming up. We all smooshed together on JHo’s bed and dished up the best roommate sandwich that this world has ever known. It hurt a bit physically, I think maybe Nuka’s elbow was in my side and JHo was smashing my face, but it was the love that mattered. It was one big, gooey love sammish. Super!

I then proceeded to get a good half an hour of sleep in between bouts of various levels and themes on giddiness, and before I knew it, there was Z packing my luggage into his car, and there was Team Etruria Headquarters disappearing off into the distance. And now I’ve made it onto my bus and I’m on my way to Carndonagh! And eventually, somewhere along the line, I’m sure I’ll get some sleep.

And the idiot award to the year goes to...

So. Yeah. Remember how I've been whinging about not being able to find a subletter? So I'd been advertising on craigslist and was just flabberghasted that I had not yet gotten a single response after three weeks. Finally I sat down to get to the bottom of things and figured out that one really needs to READ the e-mails craigslist sends, as the posting only goes through once you've confirmed it by clicking a link in the e-mail. The really insulting part is that I've used craigslist several times before this for roommate proposistioning. Gold star Allison, gold star.

BUT!

If one is a believer in fate, which I may or may not be, one may make the argument that everything plays out as it is supposed to, and today I found my subletter! He seems like a very good fit for the place, and perhaps this auspicious meeting would not have happened but for my lack of wits.

So that's a good bit o' stress off my back, I'm mucho relieved. The nerves seem to be slightly abating today, which is so welcomed as I've been getting maybe 4 hours of sleep a night recently. Honestly I'm not keenly sure how I'm still functioning. I chalk it up to the very same nerves keeping me up every night coupled with excitement and anticipation. Plus I'm kind of used to it thanks to the coffee job, my body has adapted to just powering through. Eventually the collapse comes though, hopefully on the aeroplane ride to Dublin! Plus once I get to Ireland and realize how dreadfully boring things are going to be I'll probably sleep through most of it!

Here goes - 64 hours and counting!

NERVES!

So it's 12:44 Thursday evening and yup, I'm wide awake. This is even more impressive as I was awake today at 3:30am. Al's got NERVES keeping her up! I'm worried. I'm scared. This is somewhat shocking to Al. There's nothing really to be nervous about. Well, there is, but that's another matter. But the two in combination are making it especially hard to get anything accomplished! There is so much to do yet and it's so difficult to concentrate! Where am I going again? Why?!? What could possibly be my reasoning for abandoning my friends and rats and running off to Ireland? Is this really a good idea? I swear, I feel like a doubtful bachelor just before the wedding. But I also know that it's the most natural thing in the world for me to do. Of COURSE I'm going to spend three months in Ireland. Duh! Why wouldn't I? It's the sort of adventure that life is all about.

Reservations my friends. Turns out I have reservations. Whoda thought it? It's just so crazy to imagine myself a week from now, my world turned upside-down. I'm gonna love it, I know I am. If nothing else I'll love the change from the norm, the shaking up of life, THAT'S why I'm going, THAT'S why I'm leaving my comfort zone and pushing the boundaries of this life that maybe has become a bit too organized.

Sweet.

Now let's see about hopefully passing out...

Puffy Al

A very happy half birthday to me! Well, it started out very happtacular indeed! It was a very nice day at work, and my co-workers and I hung out afterwards drinking Coronas and hanging out. Eventually we stumbled over to the local Queen Anne taco shop and had a delish bite of lunch, then parted ways and I walked back home. Egads then things changed! When I got home I began wheezing and I noticd that my face felt a little weird. Numb to be sure, but even more numb than 3 beers warrented. When I looked in the mirror I saw the right side of my face was all swollen and beginning to break out in hives! Yikes! Well I dunno what set it off but yer friend Al was havin a serious allergic reaction to something. Luckily after a few minutes I could breathe alright again, but my face stayed puffy and numb. It's finally almost all gone now. I couldn't believe how du I felt when I finally called my mom to tell her about it and she asked if I had taken any Benedryl. Oh yeah. That would have been a good move. So then I took some and my face is a whole lot less puffy and numb, but now my head is all fuzzy! Plus I've gotten a sum total of nothin done today as far as trip stuff goes, and will most likely fall asleep in a benedryl coma before anything does get done.

Ah but it really was a great morning.

Gearing Up

I am at one week and counting. This time next week I'll be outtie.

I've found it difficult to come to terms with all the differing emotions flooding my system. It's such a mind farq, delightful excitment, worry, anticipation, not wanting to leave my friends, excited about meeting new friends, soooooo not wanting to abandon my rats and afraid that one or more may not be there when I get back (though to be fair, Nuka and Z are I think, more worried than I am about this one!). What if I'm totally bored over there? What if no one's nice to me (not likely but there you go, that's what worrying is all about). How do I get up to Carn? Where am I gonna stay? Three months seems at once the longest time in the world and so very very short.

I think also contributing to the anxeity is just the monumental task of gettting everything ready. Packing, cleaning, still trying to find a subletter, making sure all the finances are on order, doting on the rats before I leave them, trying to eat all the food in the fridge, life is hard.

Ideally I could just relax and let things come. That's what I'm trying to concentrate on lately. Due to other stress-inducing factors that have plauged me lately, life has been more up and down than usual. Well, no, just really more down than usual, and I'm trying to pull myself out of that mindset. So if I'm honest, the build-up to this trip isn't helping much! I keep almost convincing myself that I'm going to have a dreadful time, but I know it's just the nerves and sporadic sour mood talking.

Think positive, dammit! Focus on the joy.