Two Months
Two months?! Goodness. I’m not even sure what to think about that. It’s been fast? It’s been slow? It mostly just doesn’t feel like time? Stating the amount of time it’s been since I left Chicago feels absolutely irrelevant to my experience here. But I guess it’s something to quantify… to say, I’ve experienced eight weekends here, and eight Irish Sign Language Classes, and two menstrual cycles.
It’s been fun to take new routes to places I’ve been before and start to see how the city connects. “Oh, that’s just down the street from that.” “Oh my gosh, that shop is so close! I had no idea!” A little maze I get to slowly put together.
A few notable things over the past three weeks:
I have spent a fair amount of time at a cafe which also has other rooms that hold workshops and events and markets. It’s called The Fumbally. This past week a friend and I went to a market of stunning products made in communities in Afghanistan, Jordan, Malawi, Ghana… And then in the evening we went to their Friday Dinner, where you sit at a long table amongst other folks and eat the one entree and dessert they offer. “…no frills. no fuss,” as they say on their website. Each of their spaces was inviting and cozy and felt handmade in my favorite way.
A few weeks ago I went on a Bumble BFF date out in Dalkey, a town south of Dublin. I took the Dart there (one of the train lines). We got to know each other as we huffed and puffed our way to the top of Killiney Hill. I would recommend for people to get on Bumble BFF in your city. A lot of folks on the app are transplants, and if you’re from that city, it’s a cool way to meet people from all over. At least, that’s what I’ve found so far.
Last weekend, my friend Charlotte and I made our way out to Greystones (a bit further south than Dalkey). We ate delicious focaccia at Scéal Bakery, ate at the institution that is The Happy Pear, perused a book shop, and stuck our feet in the ocean. The rocks which give the town their name hurt my feet so much, I had to crawl back to my shoes. Charlotte heard a man whisper, “Is she okay??” only to look up and see me on my knees. The day was full of sun and laughter.
St. Paddy’s Day was… Chef’s kiss. I’ve made friends with these lovely ladies who live on the parade route, so I was able to watch the parade from their balcony. It was refreshing to see marching bands and homemade floats and dancing. It felt better than the corporate mania the Chicago Pride Parade has turned into. Oh, and the star of the show was the man who picked up after the horses, getting the most cheers from the spectators.
After the parade, we played a game I taught the group where I learned that Audis are not considered as nice of a car in Ireland as they are in the States, and I better start developing a respectable chicken fillet roll order. From there we went to my friends’ local pub, where we were lucky enough to get a booth and chat and cheers our baby Guinnesses (the best shot hands down). We then got food and headed to some live music and even snuck in some dancing. I think my 32-year-old body may still be recovering a bit, but it was worth the craic.
I am sad this coming week will be my last ISL class. It’s such a kind and fun group of people. It’s heart warming to be amongst folks who are all post-college and show up to a class simply for the love of learning. We’re all going for a pint after this last class on Tuesday to celebrate what we’ve learned and each other.
Miscellaneous Observations:
Sometimes people pull their car over and park with a front and back tire on the sidewalk and the other half on the street.
More people walk their pups off-leash here.
“Your man” is one of the greatest pieces of linguistics Ireland has to offer.
No one knows what a tootsie pop or sucker is.