In honor of the Queen’s visit

[Note: This dates from the end of May. Technical difficulties in getting it posted.]
Living next to Phoenix Park, I could hardly miss all the hustle and bustle of the historic visit. Queen Elizabeth II is the first member of English royalty to visit Ireland since it became a republic. It has been the topic for the week, with people voicing opinions for and against—and whether she should apologize for the English’s treatment of the Irish (no, according to the English politicians). She has bowed her head in the Garden of remembrance and expressed sorrow at the loss of life somewhere else. I can’t remember. There were also a few bomb scares, but luckily none went off. She is off to see the horses in Kildare today.
My biggest memory of this week will be all the guards (police) in their bright yellow high-visibility jackets. Steel barriers were everywhere, the guards were too. I saw stacks of them being transported in the double-decker Irish buses. Tuesday on my way to work, I saw O’Connell Street in a sea of yellow as the luas passed by. Apparently, there have been 10,000 guards on the streets. There are none left to make tea in the stations.
Yesterday the luas was not running so I had to walk to and from work. The quays were empty of cars. The odd helicopter overhead and occasional guardai motorcycle or car with flashing lights were the only vehicles to be seen. I was carrying my backpack with my lunch and change of clothes in it. I was stopped twice for inspection of my bag on the way to work. On the way home I made the mistake of buying vegetables. Not only were they heavy but my bag was checked more often. When I arrived at the beginning of Parkgate Street. The nice female guard would not let me pass. I was told to wait until the motorcade passed by. I tried to explain that I lived close by and just wanted to go home down the street; I did not want to cross the quays like the many waiting at the barriers to get across to Heuston station. She explained that unlike others being allowed to continue down the street, I could not because of the vegetables. When I asked why she said that they did not want anyone throwing vegetables at the Queen. My turnip was too heavy to throw, even if I had been so inclined. Others with vegetables were not impressed either.
Eventually two motorcades passed by separately. After all that I could not even see the Queen. I had my glasses on but still could not distinguish the people in the cars. What a historic waste of time…
The two hours of walking and the half hour of waiting at the barriers were for the Queen. The yoga at lunchtime, the creamed spinach I made last night and my breakfast of pancakes with fresh raspberries were just for me.

Happiness

Life is good. I have been properly healthy for four months. I eat regularly, and sleep well every night—for the first time in 45 years. Or maybe 35 years… possibly I slept well as a child and don’t remember. I am spending time with good friends, I have realized that good people actually care about me, I am working hard albeit part-time and even enjoying it, and I have taken up creative hobbies. I don’t know myself.
I am socializing a fair bit, but not too much. Often, I just have people over for either dinner, brunch, or a wine and cheese evening. I still read novels but not to the exclusion of doing anything else. I hardly watch TV anymore.
I bought a bike about six weeks ago. So far I have only ridden it home from the shop and once in the park last week. Still, I had a good excuse: I tore ligaments in my ankle the same week that I bought it. It is currently hanging on its rack in my smoking patio. I am contemplating taking it for a spin again today. Ambitious I know. It is a lovely autumnal day and there won’t be many more of those so I suppose I should take advantage of it.
Winter will be the real challenge.

Wine taster par excellence

Somehow I got roped into helping at a wine tasting fundraiser. It is for a good cause -- building houses in Haiti. However, I went from being a willing participant and advice giver to the person ordering the wine and directing the tasting on the evening. I have never led a tasting before.
Holly recommended that I use a wine wheel, a chart of sorts easily available on the web. I found a few all right, but they were far too detailed, technical, or formal for my liking. So Emile helped me design a wine tasting cheat sheet for pseudo-wine tastings. If nothing else, it might break the ice; we are expecting about 20-25 people. There will be a lot more drinking than talking definitely. "This wine is fairly drinkable, get it down your necks" will be the gist of my directions. The way a wine tasting among friends should be. Really, the do is more an excuse for a piss-up than anything -- with no guilty conscience since it is for charity. I would still like to avoid a hangover the next day though. I am too old for hangovers.

Swallows and nature

In Wexford last weekend I started to develop an appreciation for nature. I can now identify baby swallows. Watching them over a few days I noticed the improvement they made in their flying ability. The first day they seemed quite shaky and had to flap their wings constantly to stay aloft. The last morning as I smoked my first cigarette of the day, I watched them swoop and soar almost effortlessly.
For a city and suburban girl such as myself, this is proper country -- despite the fact that Samantha lives in a lovely, spacious bungalow in a small estate outside a village. The back of her house overlooks an empty field, and her garden is enclosed by tall trees whose leaves rustle in the steady breezes. When I sit on her front step, I can also all the trees and shrubs across the road; few houses are in my line of vision.
I also like the small-town feel of Wexford town. As I walked around town one afternoon I noticed the relaxed atmosphere and friendliness of the people. Except for the frustrated teenagers of course. Samantha greeted a lot of people in the shops and on the street. I bought a great pair of boots, essential for the upcoming winter -- which is starting to set in unfortunately. Indian summer my arse.

New and old friends

Friday evening was a night of meeting up with new and old friends. I hobbled over to Smithfield on my crutch with Samantha, where we met up with Annabel and Emile. The four of us had coffees and were chatting away. Emile described a surreal conversation he had had earlier in the week with his niece and nephew. Emile told them that he had applied to be a volunteer at the Phoenix Zoo. His practical, accountant-like nephew was unimpressed, while his open-minded niece was delighted. He went on to explain that he wants to volunteer so that he can steal a penguin and a giraffe. The accountant-like nephew was disbelieving. 'Where would you put them?' he asked. Emile said, 'Well I'd bring them back to live here' (in his terrace home).
After a moment's silence, the nephew asked 'how would you get the giraffe through the house?' 'Obviously, I would train it to crawl on its belly.' Enthusiastic nods from the niece, 'that would work.'
I reminded Emile that I lived near the zoo so he could stop off with the giraffe and penguin on his escape with them. His eyes lit up, 'a safe house'!
The kids in my neighborhood would love that.
The giraffe conversation reminded Annabel about the Dublin guy who actually stole a penguin from the zoo a few months ago. We had all heard at least part of the story. After stealing the penguin, they guy made his getaway in a taxi. Apparently, the penguin was kicking up a fuss and the guy reconsidered his plan. Stopped at lights somewhere in town, he opened the door and tossed the penguin out. Only in Dublin.
****
Later that evening I went to Cherie's going away party. She and her boyfriend are going to live in Vietnam but are traveling to several countries beforehand. Cherie speaks Vietnamese, French, and English fluently; she is planning to get a proper job when she gets there. Her boyfriend knows how to swear and order food in Vietnamese so he is sorted.
Cherie was a bit nervous about living in Vietnam, a bit sad at leaving her friends in Dublin, and a bit excited about everything. We hadn't talked properly in a long while so she filled me in. I already knew about her background, problems with her parents, and other things; the hassles with her "in-laws" was new. However, Friday night was the first time it hit me just how isolated she must feel sometimes. We had joked in the past that she was like my sister; I have plenty and can always do with more. She said on Friday that she has no family. I reminded her that she is my little sister and that if she needs to talk to someone while she is away to email me and I would call her back wherever she is.
I gave Cherie a bracelet that I had made. Later that evening she was joking with a few of us that she would sell it on her travels for say $2. Melanie scolded her, 'You can't do that; it has sentimental value.' Cherie thought for a minute, 'OK, $2.50.'
I am going to miss her.

Going out in Dublin

Two occurrences this week have reminded me why I like living (and going out) in Dublin. Saturday night Samantha and I went to an Italian restaurant we like. We were sitting at a table outside, pretending to be somewhere warm and Mediterranean. After dinner I rested my sore foot on a spare chair. The new waiter raised his eyebrows at that and I apologized in Italian (as one does) but didn't move my foot. Shortly after that, the charming manager swept by to serve people behind us. He made no comment on my informal leg rest but returned with a red cushion and placed it under my foot.
Yesterday afternoon after a walk in the park on my day off, I called into my local pub. The friendly barman asked what he could do for me and I told him I was out of cash. "We are just the friendly neighborhood bank it appears." I replied that I was going to purchase something as well and he said that was entirely up to me.
I ordered a 7up, got my cash, and sat at the bar reading the book Reading Lolita in Tehran (good book by the way). After a while, I left my book and soda on the bar to go to the restroom. When I returned I picked up my book. I gazed at the back cover, thinking that something looked different. I turned over the book to discover a cheesy book about quotes. Still being perplexed, I heard the barman and the barwoman giggling away. He had switched my book obviously. I got my book back and all order was restored.

Wonder kids

Six-year old Fintan rang my doorbell the other evening to ask if he could play on my friend's abandoned car, which has been in front of my house for a couple of years. The kids in the neighborhood know that this car is the only one they are allowed to play on, and Fintan's mum wants him to ask my permission each time.
So I answered the door and Fintan took one look at me and said "why is your hair red?" (It isn't.) I replied that I had got my hair cut that day. "Oh... it looks almost like mine" (it doesn't). I smiled and said "almost, we could be twins." A smile of wonder spread across his face. "Almost" he said and climbed up on the car.
****
Shopping at the outdoor market in Temple Bar yesterday, I went over to a cheese stall. I was looking at the cheeses when a little voice piped up "would you like to try this goat cheese? It is very good." I looked up. A cute little Chinese girl was standing on a crate behind the cheeses, helping her dad on the stall.
The cheese was good. It started to rain again. "Oh no," she said. I got soaked a while ago." Big smiles. "Me too." I decided on another cheese, pointing to it. "You can buy it in one of those (prepared wrapped wedges), but the other is fresher.
"Those are too small. I think I'll get that big wedge there."
She wrapped it up carefully and said "I can give it to you for 4.50." "Great" I said. I handed her the coins and she carefully counted them. Twice.
Her excitement at working the stall and efforts to say all the right things won me over. A dote.