I've had more than one conversation with people who have experienced life on both sides of the Atlantic and one of the prevailing topics is the options people have in America. I'm not talking about life choices here, I'm talking about what you can buy and where you can go.
In the land of Super Target (a personal fave of mine), WalMart, Meijer, etc., seeking out just what you're looking for at a decent price isn't a difficult task in the States. Over here, the options are just fewer, though not necessarily worse. In America, we have grocery stores that rival the size of entire small towns. In Ireland, we have the corner shop. In America, we have an entire aisle in said grocery store dedicated to bread and bread alone. In Ireland we have a shelf or two and it consists of about 3 different kinds.
More recently, this American style of more, more, more! has made it's way over here. The closest comparison to Super Target here is the Irish Dunnes Stores. Dunnes has a grocery store, clothing department and small housewares section. More and more Dunnes are popping up in bigger and more dramatic fashion around the country. And more and more of them are 24 hour establishments - bucking the whole 9am-6pm business hours tradition. I was actually excited to walk into Limerick's newest Dunnes - boasted as the biggest Dunnes outside of Dublin! I was hoping to find a little more to choose from as I still crave certain creature comforts from the homeland. At first glance, the new Dunnes is certainly the size and shape of a Super Target. It could swallow a small Irish village whole. When I approached the aisles, ready to feast my eyes on the myriad of options, I found loads and loads of the same 3 kinds of bread. No, there aren't more options, just more of it!
From reading this, you may think I'm complaining about the reduction in options I encountered with my move, and truly I'm not. There's something comforting about having one or two types of bread that you know you like and you know will always be there. Now if they could just expand the pasta sauce options....
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Some pictures from the wedding....a little late, I know!
The big entrance!
Outside the reception hall, which is next to King John's Castle, Limerick.My parents, the happy couple, Tristan's parents.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Ah, the weather
When you live in a place like Ireland, you don't expect much from the weather. You never hear anyone raving about Irish weather in all of the attraction to visit the country. However, you will never hear anyone more apologetic about the weather than the Irish. I've found this since the first time I visited the country to today.
The first time I came to Ireland was at the end of January. I was sure to allow about 5 hours in between my flight to Chicago from Indy and departure from Chicago to Ireland because of the inevitable Midwestern winter flight delays. They were de-icing the planes and snow was piling up on my car when I left. When I got over here, it was hardly tropical, mind you, but there was no ice or snow on the ground. Still, everywhere I went people were apologizing for the cold and the wind. Little did they know I had 4 inches of snow on my car to scrape off when I got home!
Even to this day, we're experiencing a bit of a cold snap over here. So, it's a bit chilly for late March. But what do you expect from an island in the north Atlantic? People are just sure that where I came from, the weather must be much warmer (despite all assurances since November that that's not the case). After a quick look at the Star online the other day, I was able to report, no once again, as they have 3.5 inches of snow back in my hometown. Granted, I know everyone back in Indy is grumbling and moaning about the late snow fall because if you're anything like me, I think snow should be illegal after March 15th. But, the windy chill in the air over here feels much easier without the added pain of scraping my car in the morning.
No, the Irish need not be so apologetic about the weather. The daffodils are blooming like crazy all over the place and before long, it'll be what they call summer - which resembles much more of an extended spring time to those of us used to weather in the 90s with swamp-like humidity during the summer months.
So, I might have my jacket out a little longer that I was used to, but I've happily left my car scraper behind!
The first time I came to Ireland was at the end of January. I was sure to allow about 5 hours in between my flight to Chicago from Indy and departure from Chicago to Ireland because of the inevitable Midwestern winter flight delays. They were de-icing the planes and snow was piling up on my car when I left. When I got over here, it was hardly tropical, mind you, but there was no ice or snow on the ground. Still, everywhere I went people were apologizing for the cold and the wind. Little did they know I had 4 inches of snow on my car to scrape off when I got home!
Even to this day, we're experiencing a bit of a cold snap over here. So, it's a bit chilly for late March. But what do you expect from an island in the north Atlantic? People are just sure that where I came from, the weather must be much warmer (despite all assurances since November that that's not the case). After a quick look at the Star online the other day, I was able to report, no once again, as they have 3.5 inches of snow back in my hometown. Granted, I know everyone back in Indy is grumbling and moaning about the late snow fall because if you're anything like me, I think snow should be illegal after March 15th. But, the windy chill in the air over here feels much easier without the added pain of scraping my car in the morning.
No, the Irish need not be so apologetic about the weather. The daffodils are blooming like crazy all over the place and before long, it'll be what they call summer - which resembles much more of an extended spring time to those of us used to weather in the 90s with swamp-like humidity during the summer months.
So, I might have my jacket out a little longer that I was used to, but I've happily left my car scraper behind!
Saturday, March 18, 2006
St. Patrick's Day in Ireland
I know what you're thinking - St. Patrick's Day in the land of the green must be the real thing! You'd be surprised, though. St. Patrick's Day is a holiday. Everyone has the day off. There are parades in the bigger towns and of course most people are at the pub. But without the novelty of it being a day for the Irish - because when you're in Ireland, every day is the day of the Irish! - it's a bit lackluster. The biggest excitement is focused on the horse races in Cheltenham which means that tons of people pack themselves into the bookies' to place bets and crowd around the TVs in the pubs to watch their horses either win or lose it all for them. By 6:00, we were pretty tired of watching horses, and we didn't go out until 4:30.
In Indianapolis, there is a community of people who look forward to St. Patrick's Day every year. And even though it's annual, it's a novelty. We go to the parade, take the second half of the day off work (which is a novelty in and of itself) and head to the regular St. Patrick's Day haunts. We don't even have to make plans with friends of where to meet up and when because it's a foregone conclusion that we'll eventually see each other at one of the three or four places where we'd be likely to visit. We don our green, or in my case in the years since I met Tristan, my County Clare hurling jersey for true Irish authenticity. The excitement of seeing another friend of mine who nearly owns a jersey for each county and which one he will wear that particular year, and even having someone stop me because they recognize the Clare colors and strike up conversation are much more satisfying than watching a horse race.
Ironically, I think in future years, we may be looking to travel back to visit Indy for the Irish national holiday. It just means more.
In Indianapolis, there is a community of people who look forward to St. Patrick's Day every year. And even though it's annual, it's a novelty. We go to the parade, take the second half of the day off work (which is a novelty in and of itself) and head to the regular St. Patrick's Day haunts. We don't even have to make plans with friends of where to meet up and when because it's a foregone conclusion that we'll eventually see each other at one of the three or four places where we'd be likely to visit. We don our green, or in my case in the years since I met Tristan, my County Clare hurling jersey for true Irish authenticity. The excitement of seeing another friend of mine who nearly owns a jersey for each county and which one he will wear that particular year, and even having someone stop me because they recognize the Clare colors and strike up conversation are much more satisfying than watching a horse race.
Ironically, I think in future years, we may be looking to travel back to visit Indy for the Irish national holiday. It just means more.
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