Renunion of Sisters.
Well the days are passing by and the event of the Reunion of Sisters is growing nearer. Possibly not to be quite as Barbara Taylor Bradford as it sounds, but exciting none the less. Actually more exciting than a Barbara Taylor Bradford novel in my opinion, or than I imagine a Barbara Taylor Bradford novel would be….
As soon as next week in fact, I will finally have a little sister in close enough vicinity for me to effectively pick on again (Long distance teasing just isnt quite as satisfying). Oh the fun we’ll have. I’ll pull her hair and she’ll go running to Mum to tell. Except theres no Mum to come to her rescue this time….mwahaha. She might go running to Sandeater but I’ll just pull his hair too.
Tuesday morning next week I plan to catch the bus to Dublin, where I will hassle my two victims for one night (said victims having arrived in Dublin from NZ on Monday), before jetsetting, or at least the Ryanair equivalent of jetsetting, myself away for a week in Venice. Yay Venice! Land of ‘Many Flavours of Gelato of Which I Must Try Every One’, and ‘Many Kinds of Pizza of Which I Must Try Every One’, and also ‘Glass Crap’, as Ang so eloquently puts it. Of course I have a valid excuse for gorging myself on gelato and pizza and looking at glass crap, that being to see the International Art Exhibition held as part of the Venice Biennale which ends first week of November.
As usual I have left everything to the last minute and havent yet decided on a place to stay. But I do have flights so I WILL be there, sleeping somewhere….
As Tonia and Liam prepare to cross seas to see me, let me share some of the lessons I’ve learnt here in Ireland so as to help make their assimilation easier.
Lesson One. Coronation Street. If you are a fan, you’ll love Ireland, if not, be prepared to face your worst nightmare. When walking the streets of Ireland and interacting with Irish citizens, you can expect to find that approximately one in five Irish people resemble Coronation Street characters. Not a statistic that is widely publicized, or even accurate, look around you and you will start to notice the scary truth. I’ve seen countless Martins, Tyrones, Sarahs and Candices, spotted a few Les’s and was once even lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the rare and elusive Fizz. One of my bus drivers even was a dead ringer for that short guy with the goatee and leather jacket that did dodgy dealings with Mike a while back. I cant remember his name…I should have asked him when I saw him. The questions that arise from this peculiar coincidence are those age-old questions of which came first, and nature versus nurture. In this case, are these lookalikes born this way, or are they such fans of the show that they would go to extreme lengths to alter their appearance so as to resemble their favourite stars?
While in Ireland, if you find yourself coming down with a case of Corrie Fever (symptoms include: an involutary cockney accent and disillusions that a Vera-hairdo would bring out your eyes) it is reccomended (by all good doctors) that you take a large dose of quality television such as The Simpsons, three time daily until symptoms subside. NB. EastEnders is not reccomended as a safe alternative to Coronation Street.
Lesson Two. Weird Bugs, Man. Just yesterday I saw a walking toothbrush-head. About an inch long and spiky it just ambled across my path, all unconcerned as if it didnt look anything like a piece of dental equipment and just like an ordinary bug. I think the Irish call this thing a catepillar. Though I didnt try one myself, I see a lucrative untapped market in all-natural toothbrushes.
When visiting Ireland be prepared to be amazed, disgusted and fascinated by the assortment of mutant bugs and birds. Also be prepared to have the spooky sensation you are in the middle of a Hitchcock film in which the multitudes of crows, ravens and jackdaws just abiding their time will soon turn on the innocent human population. If one were to look at the individual bird populations in Ireland with relation to those in NZ, one might deduce that crows are the sparrows of Ireland, sparrows are the fantails of Ireland, and fantails are the crows of Ireland. In summary, as in New Zealand there are no crows, in Ireland there are no fantails. But there are robins. Robins are the cutest little birds that like to hop around you hoping for some food while you pretend you are in the remake of A Secret Garden. Significant bird mutations observed include: magpies – Irish magpies dont have the fleck of white on the side of the head that NZ magpies do, gulls – some gulls in Ireland wear a little black masks to preserve their annonymity when interacting with other gulls – that or they like to play Zorro, unlike NZ gulls which have no need for annonymity and dont watch movies. As an avid birdwatcher you can take it on my good authority that this is true fact.
As you will know, St Patrick banished all snakes from Ireland in a year a really long time ago. He did not however deem it necessary to banish the legless lizard. I have been informed that this ‘legless lizard’ does reside in Ireland and that it does in fact have no legs. BUT it is not a snake. Though I do wonder if Ireland’s secret authority on reptilian matters decided to call this particular specimen a legless lizard just so as to prove St Patrick did a thourough job.
Lesson Three. Squirrels. Ireland has squirrels! And I saw a mink once. (This lesson is a sub lesson of Lesson Two devised to give the often overlooked squirrel the attention it deserves).
Lesson Four. The Bus Lady. There is a fine art to riding a bus for two hours in comfort. In my opinion, buses shouldnt be called buses but rather Big Slow Nightmares On Wheels. Though there are ways to make your trip slightly less nightmarish. A major part of this consists of avoiding of the bus lady. The bus lady comes in several forms, though will usually appear elderly and fragile and wearing a scarf – unfortunately this is often a ruse to maximize the bus lady’s potential to harrass unsuspecting passengers .
The Buses Arent for Bags Bus Lady is the lady who is a stickler for the rules and will take every chance she can to catch you out. Take this one example: Woman sits down near the front of the bus and places her handbag and shopping bag on the seat beside her. There are free seats infront and behind her. Buses Arent For Bags Lady comes along the aisle and makes like she want to sit next to Woman. Only problem is Woman’s bags are on the seat. Buses Arent For Bags Bus Lady makes a fuss and declares ‘Buses arent for Bags!’ embarrassing Woman as she apologetically moves the bags onto her lap, and at which point all other polite passengers feel obliged to move their own bags. After which, Buses Arent For Bags Bus Lady carries on and takes an empty seat further down the bus. Another example: Woman gets onto strange bus in a strange country with strange bus rules and puts her pack down beside her. Buses Arent For Bags Lady comes along and squeezes into the same seat as Woman stating ‘Buses arent for bags!’ Woman apologizes and moves pack to the rack pointed out to her. Woman spends rest of the bus trip being scolded by Buses Arent For Bags Bus Lady.
The second form of the bus lady is commonly known as the ChronicChatter Bus Lady. The chronic talker loves to chat, wether it be about the weather or the lack of weather or the two different forms of the word weather. You must be very careful how to respond to the ChronicChatter, a response to the question ‘Whats the Time?’ will very likely prompt a long description of how ChronicChatter had a watch but she lost it and thats why shes asking you the time because she never knows the time now that shes lost her watch but it really was a nice watch, and have you found a watch? because shes lost her watch. A variation on the ChronicChatter is the ChronicallyDeafChronicChatter who after your reply of ‘twenty to three’ to their ‘whats the time?’ replies back in loud capital letters with ‘YOU NEED TO PEE? WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE BEFORE YOU GOT ON DEAR’. If you say ‘twenty to three’ and they reply ‘WHAT? YOU HAVE GAS? WELL IM SORRY TO HEAR THAT DEAR’ which doesnt even rhyme, you can be pretty sure that they are indeed just faking ChronicallyDeafChronicChatter syndrome for their own sick pleasure. Headphones, while a deterrent to a plain Chatter, will not stop a ChronicChatter or a ChronicallyDeafChronicChatter who will continue to ask you questions depite your exaggerated performance of removing your headphones every time they do. Best just to ignore these ones, saves everyone else hearing about your supposed bladder problems.
Picking the right seat is the best way to avoid any bus problems. Too close to the front and you’ll get the Chatters, not close enough and you’ll end up victim of the Bags Arent for Buses Lady. A recently conducted experiment deduced that if you sit a minimum of four rows and not more than six rows from the front of the bus you minimize the risk of any discomfort as a result of the above annoyances, and as well as the seat next to yours will be the last to go giving you extra freedom to spread. The elderly will choose a seat in the first few rows, while others will walk past your seat before they realize there are hardly any seats left on the bus.
Lesson Five. Lingo. Best study up on your Irish lingo before you arrive so as to avoid the potential for embarrassing misunderstandings. For instance, in Ireland someone might say ‘Hows it going lads?’ which if directed at a group of females is not a case of mistaken gender because in Ireland everyone is a lad. If you a with a group of females, one of your Irish friends might still say ‘See you later lads’. Much the same as one might say ‘See you later guys’ to a group of female friends. ‘Where’s the craic?’ is not a request for a mooning, but a general question about where the best fun is to be had. I have it on good authority that you should not say ‘pants’ in polite company here in Ireland though I havent been brave enough to test out this naughty word for myself. Or at least, you should not say ‘My pants are all wet’ or just as bad ‘Oh look, I just got my pants all dirty’ as Irish ‘pants’ are infact the equivalent of NZ ‘undies’. If you are of an Australian persuasion, ‘my thongs are all wet’ as one Aussie male has been known to have said, is even worse. ‘Jandals’ however is a word that is completely safe – as no-one will know quite what you are talking about.
Lesson Six. Ireland is cool, the culture is great and the people are generally more than welcoming.
Tags: Ah Sweet Doolin
Em