TWO LITTLE BIRDIES!

Sean's parents flew to Ireland last Thursday night and stayed to Sunday. On Thursday Sean and I canoodled while waiting for the bus that would take us to his parents. By canoodling I mean I stood on Sean's steel-toed boot and asked, "That doesn't hurt?" and he didn't push me off. As I stood on his boot a sweet troll of a girl walked over, stared at us and shrieked, "TWO LITTLE BIRDIES!" Sean and I were like, "Wha?" She walked away and we wondered why she was alone at a bus stop at 9:30 PM and how it was possible, at 10 and as a girl, to sound so much like Steven Tyler. We let it go and started talking about how excited we were to see his parents when she came back over and screamed a raspy, "KISSIN AND HUGGIN!!"

Lately whenever anything strikes me as totally Irish and odd, I look at Sean and scream, "TWO LITTLE BIRDIES!" with a brogue.

On Friday, we went to the National Museum of Old Stuff and saw bodies preserved in bogs from the year 100 or so that still had curly hair and beards. We saw brooches and earings from 230 B.C. That's right. B. freakin C. There were swords and bowls with intricate decorations that kidnapped my brain so that all I thought about that day were hands from 2000 years ago holding swords and bowls.

We went on a rail and bus tour up to the Cliffs of Moher and Burren on Saturday. I've posted some pics of it HERE!. Beware- these are so Irish.

Sunday morning we all went to mass then ate an Irish breakfast with black and white pudding (TWO LITTLE BIRDIES!). After the Doc and Mrs. left Sean and I went to see "Little Miss Sunshine"; it's my new favorite movie. I know I lack the distance needed to correctly compare it with previously seen awesome movies. Also, I recognize that every book I last read is my new favorite book, as is the case right now. But they feel so favorite still. Anyway, after seeing my new favorite movie, Sean and I stood outside of the Savoy and Sean looked at me and said, "I'm homesick" and I said, "There's an anvil in my stomach" and he said, "I'm going to cry." And we totally did.

We're feeling better now. I started classes yesterday and want to adopt all of my professors. They will be my entertaining children. Teach me something new, Declan. Make Mama some waffles while you talk about Yeats, Dr. Clutterbuck (her real name).















Above are photos of my new favorite movie and new favorite book. Note the book is not Gulliver's Travels or Castle Rackrent, the other two books I'm reading, which indicates a lack of interest in the subject matter of my classes.

He said, you're my favorite person. I said thank you! He said, I know I'd be yours too if my name were Karen Farris.

A Swede, a Norwegian and a German come over.

This is how our conversation ensues:

I say, "I have family in Norway!" She says, "Where?" I say, "I don't know, but I have family in Germany too." He says, "Where?" I say, "Ack. I don't know that either."

Some silence.

I say, "You know what I do know? The Norwegian name for grandmother is Mar-Mar. Whenever I would call my great-grandmother Grandma Mar-Mar, she would say, "You know Mar-Mar is Norwegian for grandmother, why are you calling me grandma grandmother? Haha. Haha."

She says, "No, Gammelor is Norwegian for grandmother."

The Swede offers, "Mor-Mor is Grandmother in Sweden, though."

"Oh." I say.

So I wrote my mom the following email and included her response. Amen, lady. Amen.

Re: Did you know?

jessica farris wrote:
Gammlemor - Norwegian for Grandmother
Mor-Mor- Swedish for Grandmother

Karen Farris wrote:

I did not know. I feel misinformed and bereft of country identity.

More embarrassment-- Sean and I have been calling my Argentinian flat-mate Dada. Her name is apparently Theresa, as we found out from one of her friends. I can't count the amount of times Theresa would pass me something, or say something nice, or offer me some tea when I would say, "Thank you, Dada." Awesome.

In other news, today one of Sean's classmates stopped to talk to us outside of the Arts Building. She told us a story, while she ate her salmon on white bread, about how she was evacuated out of Lebanon on a US Navy ship. She smiled the whole story through and Sean and I couldn't close our suprised mouths. I love this place.

I submit that it cannot!!

Today I found the school store, (which I thought was imaginary), set up a loan and got a library card. I felt drunkenly independent as I walked back to my flat with a florid face and the plan to grab some dinner then traverse outside the Dublin area alone. I went into the kitchen to grab a pita and slice an avocado. There, I flit into conversation with Dada (or Tada? who knows), a woman in my flat from Argentina. Then Stephen came in, then David, a second and third flat-mate. I've met them all before but it was way back last Tuesday when I hated life. I realized this was my time to start exuding awesomeness immediately or risk sticking in their minds as the Plath-like American who looked like someone ate her puppy. And so it went, with poor Whitney as my internal soundtrack, that I stayed in the common area and made a new impression that didn't conjure thoughts of an oven.

As I ate my pita
I BROKE MY HEART
I realized I was in a ring.
FOUGHT EVERY GAIN
I'd thrown some bad punches. Some desperate, sad, last Tuesday punches.
TO TASTE THE SWEET
And now, after dancing around and pumping myself up
I FACE THE PAIN
I was ready to get some good ones in.
I RISE AND FALL
And I could see the others dancing, too.
YET THROUGH IT ALL
So I tossed a few out out. A good line, an articulate compliment.
THIS MUCH REMAINS
And they hit back with the same.
GIVE ME ONE MOMENT IN TIME
I made fun of Sean and they laughed.
WHEN I'M RACING WITH DESTINYYYYY.
We talked and laughed more, getting easy with each other, making plans.
THEN, IN THAT ONE MOMENT OF TIME...I WILL FEEL...I WILL FEEL...ETERNITY!!!!
Ooo. What's that feeling? That tingly goodness ah. It must be eternity or something.

That's how it happened. Thank you, Whit.

An hour later, fed by the pita and avocado and by finally making laughter with some flat-mates, I went back into the weather and roamed. When I recognized places on my roam, I paused and felt I'd finally arrived here and then I pushed beyond. Later I will recognize and arrive in farther out places and soon I'll cover Ireland with my recognition like a tipped molasses covers a table.

Today = the tomorrow I kept telling myself was coming.

Megamylove and puffy-paint, up close and personal.

Here's a bit more of the dog I WILL steal from the haters to bring to Amevilca and raise as my own. And here, as promised, is some puffy-paint in your face. Sadly, the tackiness doesn't transfer as well as I'd hoped, but you get the idea.

A dog I love.

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Electric word life, it means forever and that's a mighty long time, but I'm here to tell you there's something else. Searsons.

We found a pub with leather couches. The one Sean and I claim sits in front of a real fireplace. When the fire dies down people come to stoke it and I repress an urge to hug them, to smile in their faces, to ask their names and offer to carry their empty trays back to the bar.

These same people serve us chicken and leek pie. They serve us spring rolls with mango chutney. They serve us bangers and mash. Kopparberg's pear cider? They serve us that with ice. With a feast pulling at our forks, we eat, drink and watch soccer (fine, football). On a flat screen. This place feeds more than stomachs.

I think Sean and I lead responsible, kind lives and I also think that if we both happened to die on that couch, with the food, fire and flat screen before us, we might wake in the afterlife to the exact same surroundings. The bar's called Searsons, but I call it the big H, ma friends.

Wisconsin

So, as some may know, I am in Belfield, Ireland. Truth is, but for a few blatantly Irish moments, it could be Wisconsin. To stitch up our disappointment, Sean and I wrap hands around Guinness and Carlsberg at the student pub. We buy bus passes into City Center to read the signposts and memorize the statues in the park. We appreciate the sun and the building out my window.

I've included some photos down below. I can't include them in the text anymore because I just can't figure out how to do it on the mac. So down there you can find Sean and me on the day after I finally slept. That's me on my bed without anything on the walls or a cup to drink from- a stark image of me having my priorities straight. My room is there. And that building is what I see out of my room's window. On a campus of tired 60's concrete and cement, my room overlooks the only building on campus I imagine some beautiful Irish woman designed. I took pictures of my window sill where my friends and family stay. Those stores are part of the town Donnybrook. Sean and I sometimes stop there on our way to City Center to get a bottle of water or a new candy bar. I was going to post some residual Yosemites. Distance hasn't rubbed that place from my heart yet. Ah, Yosemite. But I'm sure you've had enough of that. And finally, that's a beautiful male model sleeping. I won't be seeing that anymore because...

Sean finally found a room in a house!

It's close to campus and somehow the greenery on the walk there smells better than any natural scent ever to enter our noses. The dog living in the house, Mega, is my new love. When I come in, I stand with my feet apart and she puts her body lengthwise against my knees, with one front paw on one foot and one back paw on my other foot and then she tilts her head back to make pleased eye contact with me as I all but lick her back, pick her up and carry her out of the house to be my own. I'm this close to being a dognapper.

I dislike John, the man who owns the house. Dislike in the same way I would dislike it if someone stabbed a needle in my eye. He's a proud, bitter, crappy, failed artist and he's demeaning. Sean laughs politely but a defiant anger colors my face when John lumps us with freedom fries or mentions how much we must like TV and Walmart. Yesterday John berated me for thinking TK MAXX would be like the States' TJ MAXX. "This isn't America." You know what John? Are you listening to me? Are you? Stop filling your house with tie-dye and puffy paint a minute. TK MAXX has the exact same label off by one letter in the exact same colors. Lay off me, PicassNO. Heh.

I'll take pictures of Mega and the art. It really is tie-dye and puffy paint.
































































































































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A thousand apologies for how long this has taken. And then a few more.

Sean's and my family- you've heard this already, but we have learned new things if you want to check them out below.

It's taken a long time to update the blog because when I first got to good ol' Belfield, Ireland I went into a panicked, anti-sleeping, questioning all decisions I've ever made in my life state that I (of course) thought I would never leave. I was ready for the straight jacket, but I've gotten a load of sleep and feel much better now. As Sean said a few days ago, "Jess has finally arrived in Ireland."

We've been walking a lot and stumbling into a few welcome stereotypically Irish moments. The other day we saw a cemetary on a hillside with high, vivid grasses reaching up to the Celtic crosses on the gravestones. We heard an old man in a jeff cap ask another old man, "Who's your mummy?!" We read on the website "overheardindublin.com" a mom on a bus say, "But you HAVE to go to school!" to which her 5-year-old son replied, "I don't want to. I know a-fu*kin-nough.

things we've learned so far---

We miss everyone we know.
Convenience store french bread. Buy it. Eat it. Dream of it.
When the butthole whose house Sean lives in assumes he intricately knows my whole sordid and consumerist value system, the only thing that cheers me up is to assume his opinion of me and sing, "And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. And I won't forget the men who died and gave their lives for me. And I'm going to stand up! next to her and defend her still today. 'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land. God bless the USAaaaaa"
Everyone says "You're okay?" instead of "May I help you." The first time this happened, I replied, "Oh, I'm great, thanks. How are you?" and after the woman said, "I'm fine." She stood there and I stood there and I waited for her to ask if she could help me. She said again, You're okay?" and I just stood there some more and looked at her.
Everyone dresses like Posh Spice. Everyone means guys too.
A pitch is a field.
The hash sign is the pound key on a telephone.
Tooken means taken (they do weird things with the past
tense a lot).
Dublin loves corn on its pizza.
Somehow, I don't know how, it's ridiculous I know, but Sean and I agree that almost every girl here looks
like they weave silk and gold into their locks and have professional make-up artists and almost every guy dyes his tips.
A can is a beer.
A biscuit is a cookie.
Take away means take out food.
They don't seem to laugh as much as Americans.
Look left when you're crossing the road or you will die.
It's super cool to smoke.
EVERYONE wears jeans, whoever said it was a tourist thing was a jackass.
All condiments in even nice restaurants come in packets and they are stingy with ketchup (or don't think we want as much as we actually want....like they give one packet at a time).
Black coffee means cafe americano which means espresso with water.
The Dominos guy informed us that the word dorm doesn't exist. It's residences.
Bulmer's cider smells like pee.


Even though I've been horrible at keeping in touch with every person I know and I don't deserve any letters or phone calls, here are my address and phone number. I fell behind in life but I pinky promise to be better.

Jessica Farris
Room No. G-10-10-05
Glenomena Residences
UCD
Belfield
Dublin 4, IRELAND

011 353 85 778 8985