Score!

For something crude and rude, yet laugh out loud, may I recommend "Knocked Up"for your viewing pleasure. Hilarious movie, with the odd tender moment.

I think this one tops my 'Best of....Summer 2007' List. Although, it's not that great a feat when you consider the competition.

Sensational.

Every so often you hear something beautiful. This guy, a very humble unassuming individual had the power to make tears run down my face.

Beautiful.

Head High!

Last night Ian and I went for a few drinks with some people from his college course. One guy had his girlfriend with him, both of whom were eager to hear about my experiences in Canada and comparisons with Ireland. The following discussion ensued,

Girl It must be great in bars with your accent!

Me Huh?

Girl Lots of guys must chat you up because of your Irish accent. A friend has arrived from England and everytime we are out with her, guys line up to talk with her and get her number

Me That has never happened to me

Girl Oh..............................

Well, I felt great last night.

Egoboostastic.

Joke

What's Mr. T's favourite yoghurt?


A Petit Filous!



I have not been able to stop laughing! It's comic genius

Stanley Cup!

Over the last few nights I have been watching the ice-hockey playoffs for the Stanley Cup. And I have to say I have really enjoyed watching them. I have only ever glanced at games in the past so know little to nothing about the sport, other than it is very fast, very technical and demands high levels of skill from its players. So, No Hockey Knowledge Me was watching the games between the Ottawa Senators and the Anaheim Ducks and was intrigued by a Ducks player by the name of Niedermayer. His movement on the ice, his skill in the game and his ability to work his opponents drew my eye. I liked what I saw, and, in particular liked how effortlessly he game skated.

I was rather pleased with my observations when Niedermayer was voted MVP, (Most Valuable Player) and his team won the Stanley Cup. I could be a scout! YAH!

I must dig out the pictures of me and the cup, (or should that read, "the cup and I"?), for memories and what not. Another trip to the Hockey Hall of Fame is due.

P.S. The Stanley Cup is the equivalent of the UEFA/FA Cup in football and the Six Nations in rugby.

Brrr

On Saturday the temperature was 32 celsius with sun. Today it dropped to 8 with rain. Welcome to Canada.

Ian and I went apartment hunting. I was in four layers of clothes and still felt the chill. I am in quite the spot of bother come Winter.

Sand

Forgot to mention the anal relationship Ian has with sand.

While walking on a sandy beach at the lake, Ian kept stopping every few paces to SHAKE THE SAND OUT OF HIS SANDALS. Does anyone else find this as hilarious as me?

He was quite the happy camper when he managed to walk from the beach to the cottage without getting any sand in his sandals. The fact that he looked like an arthritic 80 year old trying not to get sand in his sandals was too funny for words.

I imagine he will dump me after reading this post.

Lake Eerie

It would be so much easier to stick up a few photos and comment on them re: the weekend at Lake Eerie, but seeing as I forgot the camera, I no longer have the easy option. Mutter.

So, our weekend was fantastic. I really am getting old. Gone are the days where a weekend involving no sleep, bars, clubs and half the population of a city could entertain me. Now I want a comfortable chair, lights out at a decent hour and three square meals. I got just that for two whole days. Ian and I left chez nous on Friday afternoon with the car packed full of food and underwear. Seeing as I am new to the whole Canada experience, Ian and his parents discussed which expressway to take to the Lake. There are multiple options, the common one being the Road of Terror, aka the 401. However, seeing as it was a Friday afternoon, it was assumed that the 401 would be a nightmare and so it would be prudent to take the Toll 407. So off we went, 407 bound. Turns out we sat on a glorified parking lot for an hour. Traffic around Toronto at any point of any day is completely and utterly insane. So insane, that if there is a single little hiccup at any point on the expressway, all lanes suffer. Ian compares it to the Butterfly Effect. If someone brakes suddenly 20 miles ahead, the effect will vibrate its way back to the last car, increasing strength as it travels. In our case, there was a minor accident on the 407 involving a slight dent to one car from another. Both cars had pulled over to the side, freeing up traffic access, but because humans are nosy, everyone kept tapping their brakes to slow down for a look. The result was traffic slowed to almost a complete standstill adding an extra hour onto our journey. We moaned and complained but we still made sure we got a good gawk at the scene of the accident.

Once at the lake I regained my love of the countryside. Until all the bugs came at me. Seeing as it was dark when we arrived, we had no option other than to sit down and indulge in an Entourage marathon. I aspire to one day be as obnoxious as Ari Gold.

The following day I bossed Ian into making breakfast and afterwards we went for a walk on the beach. It was sunny and 32 degrees and Ian seemed convinced he was immune to skin cancer. He sat out in the sun for three hours and then ambled along the beach for another hour followed by another two hours just sitting on a chair in the sun. My pleas with him to put on some sun block were met with snorts of disgust. Was I not aware that his reddened arms would turn a golden brown? Did I not know that Ian isn't going to succumb to skin cancer?

As you can imagine I got in quite the snot with him. I understand that he naturally tans, but correct me if I am wrong here, but scorching your skin to turn brown makes zero medical sense whatsoever. I was pretty pissed with him for being so irresponsible, but of course, there was no talking to him. Instead I sat in the sun LATHERED in factor 45. I actually glowed with all the block I applied.... of course sand kept sticking to my lathered skin so I had quite the odd look going.

After breakfast we went for a walk on the beach. Never, ever, have I seen so many fish and bird skeletons as I saw on that beach. It was like being on Animal CSI. While ambling Ian found a bone in the sand. I can assure you that Grissom's job is quite safe as neither one of us could determine if it was human or not. We decided to lump it on Ian's Aunt's deck. Maybe she can determine what it is.

That night we continued our Entourage marathon. Aren't box set DVD's the best thing ever?

The next day was, unfortunately, grey, damp and not very sunworthy. Ian and I enjoyed breakfast, stuck our heads outside the door and pulled mine back in pretty quickly what with the dramatic increase in the mosquito population. Bleurgh. Seeing as there wasn't much point in sitting out in the rain, we started to clean the cottage and while doing so turned on the TV. On it was a show called "Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?"The concept of this show is to have adults answer questions relating to school subjects for those in Grade 5 and under with the potential of winning $1,000,000. It sounds very simple, but not so for some of the parents... and if I am being truthful, even myself. Most of the questions are pretty simple, but some can leave you in quite the pickle. Take for example the contestant I saw yesterday. She was asked what country has the largest border with the United States. The woman said Mexico.

Has she ever seen a map of North America? Really? How ditzy do you have to be to get that one wrong. How do you not know about the second largest country in the world to the north of you?

Gah.

Anyhoo, after that Ian and I returned to Toronto. With Ian almost having a child seeing as traffic wan't going to the speed he would have selected. Once home, I scratched all my bug bites and made them worse than they were.

Lord in Himmel........

So, Ian and I went to Lake Eerie for the weekend. I shall talk more about that later on. I feel the most important thing to discuss right now is the blatant disregard the Ontario authorities have for the volume of human inbreeding in certain parts of the Trillium province. Allow me to explain. While driving to the lake Ian and I had a craving for Taco Bell. Yeah, I know. No need to lecture on the potential side effects. I know them all. But, the new cheese taco thing looked AMAZING on TV and we all know how easily swayed I am on certain things. I mean, hell, they look good on TV, so OBVIOUSLY they will be yummy in my tummy.

Ian and I stopped at a town enroute that had a Taco Bell. We were quite the ecstatic pair and almost blew up with excitement when we saw the Taco Bell sign. We pulled into the parking lot and merrily tottered in. I had to run to the bathroom first so let Ian join the queue. A toilet is a very good benchmark for any food establishment and this Taco Bell was sliding down the scale, (much like the edibles on offer). There was an inexplicable smell, one that nauseated and encouraged record breaking bladder evacuation and the fact that the toilet failed to flush, instead gurgling human excrement at me, had me in a quite the pickle. I quickly evacuated said bathroom and ran to the queue to find Ian lurking at the back of it with a rather dubious look on his face. A scan of the restaurant patrons revealed that all were from the same paternal line and that most, if not all, were suffering from some form of genetic trauma. There wasn't a functioning brain cell in the place. I am not exaggerating in any way. The genetic trouble did not stop at the patrons, it most certainly extended to the staff. Not willing to sacrifice our remaining intelligence out our digestive health, I am ashamed to say that we ran away from Taco Bell. In a fit of hysterical laughter.

The closest alternative was McDonalds. It was clean at least, but still demonstrated the need for sexual education and contraception in this particular blip on the population scale.

And don't get me started on parents that allow their children run riot in a public place. The sound of a three year old saying "Hello" over and over and over again like some moronic demon serves to augment the evidence of something not functioning all that well upstairs.

Power Suit Me

I got a job. I am rather pleased with myself.

Go Team Me.

Corporate Me

So I discovered the new format offered by Blogger and decided to take advantage of it. I noticed the Adsense option, ( you allow ads to be placed on your blog and you get paid for doing nothing apart from sitting on your backside typing furiously on a keyboard) , and decided to install it.

Now I have an ad for Hurricane Katerina charitable relief.

I am going to need something a little more profitable if I plan on retiring at 35

Nergh.

Fish Watch


I think the Beta fish Ian has in a bowl is suicidal. The bowl is behind where I sit at the computer and all I have heard this morning have been little bursts of air bubbles from the demented fish. He sticks his little mouth above water, takes in a few gulps of air and then burps them out with all the charm of a newborn.

I hope he doesn't die on my watch.

Summer Rubbish

Since the start of May I have seen the following movies-

Blades of Glory -perhaps if I was a hormonal 12 year old I might have laughed
Spiderman 3 -they went OTT with the black eyeliner and failed rockstar look
Shrek 3 -seems the scriptwriters have forgotten what "funny" means
Pirates of the Caribbean 3 -Oh my god. I cannot believe the script was allowed outside the studio

Not one of the above godforsaken attempts from the film industry comes close to defining entertainment. Don't bother wasting your money. Paint your wall and watch it dry instead. Perhaps cut your toe nails. Maybe even clean the hair from under your bed.
To add insult to injury we were charged an extra $2 to see the Pirates of the Caribbean as it was, apparently, in High Definition.

Spare me.

Remember in "Pulp Fiction" the comparisons John Travolta drew with North America and Europe,... well not much the comparisons more the differences, via the medium of fast food? I have to agree with the Mad Scientologist. There aren't many huge or significant differences between Canada and Ireland, but there are little things can leave you in the quite the muddle.

Stores here in Canada stock more or less the exact same products as found in Ireland. However, Canadian marketing gurus have decided that packaging which sells perfectly well in Europe, OBVIOUSLY will never appeal to the Canadian consumer, so they have gone and changed it all. Or maybe they felt that Canadian packinging would never work in Europe. Neh. Either way, it had lead to me standing in stores, scratching my head wondering where the hell Herbal Essences has gone to and asking the store assistant, who now thinks I am an idiot, where everything is. For example. This is what Aussie Shampoo looks like in Ireland


And here is what it looks like in Canada.. well on this particular type.


See? I have to admit I am loving the purple packing. Makes it look less like a dollar store effort. Dear Lord I have sucummbed to the might of the marketing gurus!

I bought hair straightners today. Holy crap. They have ceramic plates coated in titanium. My hair feels like it could take on the might of one of those hair commercials where the models give themselves whiplash swinging their hair around.

L'oreal. Beacause I want a neck collar.

Canada's Finest!


This is an illustrative example of the very tough job Ian has to contend with daily. Today, he had to drive the speedboat around a lagoon.

He's like Sean Connery in a schpeedboath

It’s Abooot Time.

I have arrived. Canada, here I am. And what a tormented weather situation going on here. One day hot, next day cold and I AM BEING MOCKED FOR WEARING MY COAT WHEN IT IS COLD. Clothing etiquette defies just about everything here. Yesterday was a tad on the chilly side yet I passed a guy wearing shorts, a cut off shirt and flip-flops. Now, while he did have a rather impressive array of tattoos to show off, I was horrified at the amount of skin he was displaying in lukewarm weather.

Mutter.

So, getting here was relatively uneventful. Heathrow was Heathrow…. A mind-boggling sea of illogical thinking, Duty Free seems to have erased the “duty” and “free” aspects of the concept and communication barriers are loud and proud. . There was an unpleasant incident with my feta cheese tart- I couldn’t understand the waiter and he couldn’t understand me. I got my tart eventually but kept checking for an unsanitary or nasty little surprise.

I thoroughly recommend British Airways for all your aeronautical needs. A delightful airline complete with air stewards that fill you up with too much wine and compliment you on your perfume. Wonderful boys. However, Pearson airport wasn’t such a barrel of laughs. Immigration, as with all countries, is never a barrel of laughs. However, this was the first time that I was taken to one of those side rooms where you assume criminals are taken, not those on a valid work visa. I was asked to wait in an area with families from India and Pakistan among others. Fine you think, and find it would have been, had I not been left there without any information, without any guidance and without anyone even attempting to help me. Immigration Officers kept passing by ignoring my requests until finally a lovely female immigration officer approached me and asked, “Do you have a passport?”. The fact that I had just entered the country via an airplane was wasted. However, she instantly got into action and got me all visaed up.

Retrieving my bags was another matter. I love how airport personnel place charges on luggage carts. This is a reasonable action as it cuts down on inappropriate cart gatherings, however it really does not facilitate the traveler who doesn’t turn up with any local change. Then, to add insult to injury, you try getting change for that stupid cart machine. Yeah, it’s a rather large pain, particularly if you have to deal with the sour faced oompa loompa behind her bulletproof glass and the idiots that are oblivious to the queue concept.

Once out of the turmoil of international travel, things recovered themselves well… apart from the flood of tears when I saw Ian, (an odd blend of happiness, exhaustion and anger). So now that I am back on the old stomping ground it’s all good. Well, apart from the fact that I don’t have a job and am getting more and more depressed as the days go by. It’s one thing to have international experience, but quite another to have Canadian experience. It’s the old Catch 22 situation here and it is driving me nuts. I’m trying not to just settle for anything, instead utilizing the years and years I spent at university to some good use, and not falling foul to the immigrant trap.

Ian and I are getting on great, apart from his odd desire to see Spiderman 3. A film slated by critics. A film starring Tobey Maguire. Who should be slated with something solid. It is just me or is there something fiercely annoying about Mr. Maguire. However, in the name of international peace relations I have agreed to see it with Ian and two of his friends this week. The excitement just might kill me.

In shock news, Ian and I are considering buying bicycles to get fit. I know. Who would have thought? We have been walking lots, but Ian’s PC Plod pace does nothing for our relationship, so at least I can let him loose on Heber Downs, (local flora and fauna area) while I cycle around and around in circles on completely and utterly flat areas as I am loathe to pedal up a hill and too scared to freewheel down one. Well, the brakes could fail!

I shall write about my Orientation Day tomorrow as it is the finest definition of "ridiculous" I can think of.

In a few hours I will be on my way to Heathrow and then to Toronto. A ridiculous flight path. If you don't understand, whip out a map and look at where Limerick, London and Toronto are. It's as if the pilot has started to fly in one directon, realises he has gone the wrong way and just slaps the plane into reverse hoping no one will notice.
I have noted that my posts of late have had all the characteristics of blog post starvation, ( a treatable disease once detected early), and hope to have a little time to spare once arrived in Canada to do a little update. Seeing as Ian is a working man and I am neither, I will dedicate Monday morning to blogging. Expect a rant about an airline, the people they employ, and the loss of my baggage.

It's going to be an exciting one.

Only two more days and I am finished work. To say I am "winding down" would be an understatement. I am moving around the office with all the speed of a slug taking a leisurely slide with the efficiency of a hanging sloth. Indeed, productive. Tomorrow, I will have a staff lunch with my team and some of the girls and, then, Friday sees my leaving do. I am prepping the camera for shame inducing pictorials. It shall not be given to anyone else unless they promise to take flattering pictures of me. A flawless plan!

Once all that is done, I will have to get around to doing some packing. An activity I LOATHE. So much so that I would not be shocked if I start binning things so I don't have to pack them and drag them to Limerick and then all the way to Canada! Aaahhh laziness.

Of course my actual arrival into Canada is under serious doubt at the moment. I have a visa...... somewhere in the world. I haven't recieved any paper stating that I have been approved for entry into Canada. If I don't get this piece of paper soon I have zero proof that I have a visa waiting for me in Canada, therefore prohibting me from gaining entry to Canadialand.

And can I get any response from the people who are supposed to be dealing with it? But of course not.

Bleurgh

I ate so much chocolate today ( as well as Easter Sunday lunch and Easter Sunday dinner, followed by Easter Sunday drinks and Easter Sunday coffees), that I have been forced to pop a Motillium and some antacid pill to ease the churning, the pain and the will to end it all. I think I will have a little lie down and reflect on my blatant abuse of one of the Seven Deadly Sins- Gluttony.

Spent the day with my Gran. She is quite the funny little poppet- she has a very kind, innocent view of the world, only telling happy, positive stories about people, no matter how devious a conman they are. Recently, she got satellite TV installed and so has been enjoying the pleasures of multiple channels. She is coming to terms, albeit slowly, with the sudden appearance of two remote controls. One is for operating the TV itself with terrestrial channels and the other is to control satellite channels. Gran doesn't quite see it that way. She refers to the terrestrial remote as her "shortwave remote" and the satellite one as her "longwave remote". It is very sweet, yet also, oddly logical for a person that was raised with only radio as a form of entertainment. Keep it familiar is what I say.

We also took her on a tour of all the graves. Once you get to her age, it's good to keep in with the relatives who've passed on before you- you always need someone to save you a decent seat with the dude upstairs. She is the only lady who enjoys these little trps. There is a lot I could learn from her- from finding the silver lining in every single situation, whether good or bad to making people drink so much tea against their will that they want medical attention

Large Female Ape Hands Sighted in Rural Area- Easter Shocker

Isn't that below image just plain terrifying... people MOISTURISE or your hands will end up like mine. I slapped another coffee jar worth of Dead Sea mud onto my hands in an attempt to remove fake tan from the palms of my hands, ( covered myself in fake tan and forgot to wash my hands.. looks like my hands are from Portugal and the rest of me from Siberia). Once, the mud dried, I captured the below picture. It highlights how wrinkled and worn my hands are. And that I am second cousin, twice removed to an ape.

It is worth noting, that my hand situation did improve somewhat once I had removed the mud. They don't have quite as terrifying an appearance as when encased in mud, instead presenting a slighty more human aspect that leaves one questioning ones potential ape blood lines.

Mud Mud Everywhere..............


My parents spent a few weeks in Jordan enjoying the Eastern sun, hypersaline sea and mineral sand. Seeing as they were at the Dead Sea for a number of days and had tired of endless floating, Indiana Jones sets and gorging on luxury buffets, they decided instead to pack as much of the black mineral mud into coffee jars as they could. Indeed a classy pair. It is reported that the mud aids in circulation, lessens the effects of extreme skin disorders and deposits essential minerals in the skin. How fabulous. I lathered my face with it this evening. I shall keep you updated on the results. I am sure you are on the edge of your seat, dying with anticipation. Below is the Kenco jar which looks like it has been filled with rather squishy turds. Underneath is me with mineral mud on face. I would consider myself to not be a squishy turd.








Update- my skin didn't like the mud. And before any of you smartasses point out you shouldn't put it on your face, may I point out that the Dead Sea Spa ladies ( they do exist), assured my mother that it is safe. However, in the hours since, my skin has turned red and is rather itchy. Plus the removal of all the toxins has caused a spot outbreak on my chin. Mutter.

I am so tired I have gone beyond being tired. I cannot sleep and am running on nervous energy. I have cleared up my Sunday for sleep. I may squeeze in a little nod to daylight. No promises.

Just A Spoonful of Sugar..

There are 8 teaspoons of sugar in a single 330ml can of Coca Cola sold in Ireland and Great Britain.

Not sure if Americans have it better. They don't have sugar, instead creating dental cavities with High Fructose Corn Syrup.

And people wonder why their teeth are rotting and falling out of their heads. Tsk Tsk

The Gee Gees





Even though I tutted tutted at all those crazy people placing ill advised bets on horses last week, Friday saw me cave in. I didn't have any tips or any hunches, instead I spent the morning reviewing the form for all horses in the Gold Cup and decided that seeing as the favourite was a guarannted winner, ( with silly short odds), there was no point in putting my €10 on him. Instead, i went for an each way bet on Exotic Dancer, (see above), sent the facilities guy to the bookies on his lunch break, huddled around the radio at 3.30 and nearly peed my pants when he came in second. I had wisely placed an each way bet, ensuring some return on my bet. While my winnings were small, nothing could wipe the Cheshire Cat like grin off my face. I am beginning to understand the addictive side to gambling

I should NOT be allowed anywhere near a store anymore. Really. I went into town on my lunch break to mail a letter and like a moth to a flame was drawn into the Debenhams 25% sale. In I went, a woman on a misson and emerged 10 minutes later weighed down with half the cosmetic department and my wallet quite a little lighter. It was a shopping blitz, never seen before. I bought stuff I will NEVER use. Granted the shampoo and face wash will come in handy, but the sea salts and cherry bubble bath will take pride of place in the dungeons of my closet. Of course, once I started I couldn't stop and went into a clothing store where I just HAD to buy another pair of linen trousers. The fact that is is bitterly cold and pouring rain each and every day will not deter me in wearing them.

The Cheltenham festival is on this week. The week when people who have never seen a horse in their lives declare themselves racing experts. I have chosen not to indulge in the frenetic betting, but not so for some of the people I work with, if the screams of "Gwanyabloodynag" are anything to go by during race times. Lunch hour sees a mass exodus as they all take off to the local bookies to torment the teller with €1.00 bets from 15 people on the nag that just missed the slaughterhouse by a hoof, but may have a chance according the brother of the cousin of the sister of the neighbour of the girl at the next desk.

Only one more day until Casino Royale is available to buy. Daniel Craig goodness. Yum.

Canada


J'arriverai au Canada le 5 mai. Pour honorer la deuxieme langue du Canada j'ecris en francais. Je serai dans les banlieues de Toronto avec mon ami, Ian. Qui sait ce que je ferai! Peut-etre je balayerai les rues. Ce n'est pas reellement drole...........

Irish Stew


I have noticed on a few blogs and websites, North Americans discussing the making of Irish stew for St.Patrick's Day. I just so happen to have the definitive Irish Stew recipe and am willing to share.

Ingredients-
Some choice alcohol with Irish bar setting
Lemon
Salt
Cheese and Onion Taytos
Poitin

Utensils -
Neverending supply of glasses ( plastic advisable towards the end of the stew)
Chair with back and arms
Stainless Steel Bowl
Bounty Tissue
Taxi
Money
Lighter
Trained medic


1. Take an average Irish bar, fill to capacity with eager drinkers.
2. Provide pint sized glasses for required numbers
3. To each glass pour one part whiskey to 5 parts Guinness
4. Mix, cool and consume
5. Vigorously shake drinker
6. Once the Guinness-whiskey mix has fermented add one shot of green vodka
7. Allow to settle
8. While drinker is settling prepare one shot of black zambuca with flame ( glass optional, drinkers open mouth preferred)
9. Pour shot into open mouth, ignite, heat and swallow. Cheers encouraged.
10. Allow drinker to cool.
11. An optional spicy addition for the caliente lovers is one shot of finest Mexican tequilla.
12. Prepare drinkers arm with highest quality salt, pour shot of tequilla (worm suggested for added nutrients) and finish with a lemon garnish
13. It is suggested at this point to provide a stainless steel bowl for bodily evacuations. Toilet trips forbidden due to potential loss of valuable seat in busy stew.
14. While drinker is simmering, open a packet of finest Irish Taytos, place on a bed of Bounty, garnish with salt and serve
15. Take drinker off the boil and place on chair with back and arms. Cool.
16. Open a large bottle of poitin. Decant
17. Serve repeated shots of said drink until drinker begs for mercy.
18. Repeat steps 3-17 for as long as desired.
19. A side of Taxi optional
20. Trained medic necessary

Result
A delightful blend of alcohol soaked people with a hint of unwanted aromas and a bitter aftertaste.

Traditional Irish Stew is an accquired taste and does come with some unwanted side effects, but nothing a helping of Paracetamol, a bottle of Lucozade and a lie in can't cure

Want to buy some Irish Air?

I have to admire the entreprenurial skills of the Irish people. I am so jumping on the bandwagon. I have an endless supply of old jars and glasses. They are in need of filling. I'm off to the West of Ireland. Might not be back for days. But be sure I will come back a wealthy lady.... that or covered in seaweed... or found headfirst in a pool of cockles.

The Power of Picasa2

Before





After


Sometimes I amaze myself, but Picasa2 has knocked me out. I am off to doctor just about every picture I have ever taken.

I did NOT put that ridiculous header above, but there doesn't appear to be a way to alter it. The above pictures are some of my pictures from Asia. I do have pictures of other places but I haven't been able to locate the wire to load up pictures from the camera. Typical. Browsing through the my spaces and the bebos of complete strangers has its benefits as I managed to get a link to the site that makes my pictures do the collage effect. Whoo hoo!

Ladies and Gentlemen,

My preferred drink of celebration is champagne. So please do put some on ice as the Candadian High Commission have granted me a working visa.

Canada here I come.

So Sudan Red (yup, the cancer causing dye) has been found in some Asian chili powders. Food for thought for those of those that gorged on denjon jigae. And if ingesting Sudan Red isn't enough for South Koreans to handle, they are now being faced with an increasing suicide rate. It is being blamed on the widening divide between rich and poor. Correct me if I am wrong, but surely it is all to do with their emotionally opressive, indivdualism hating, forced family orientated society. Bah.

On the bus home I came up with a make cash slow scheme. Think about this, people from the age of 14-35 listen to their ipods frequently at alarmingly loud volumes. Therefore, by the time they are 65 (ish), they will have hideous aural abilities and will be in dire need of hearing aids. Anyone who owns or invests in hearing aid companies will be sitting on gold mines and wiping their bottoms with $100 bills. Of course it will only take a mere 30 years to accumulate even one bill to wipe your backside with.

You know when a cartoon character stubs their toe, it turns scarlet red, starts to pulse like a beating heart and turns into the size of a beach ball? I am currently sporting an imjury eeriely similar to that. I am the Foghorn Leghorn of the human world. I stubbed my third toe against the lap top that was lying on the floor on Friday night. It hurt like all hell. I had to do my best not to cry. It is now a palette of colours...none that blend all that well. Lots of black, with blues and reds, and a hint of yellow.

I am going for sympathy gold on this one.

On Friday evening I decided to treat myself to a nice bottle of red wine. Seeing as I am a member of the rat race, I tend not to question the price, more the quality of the wine and grape. However, I was brought kicking and screaming back to my church mouse university days when I overheard a trio of young college girls discussing the merits of the bottles of wine they were clutching. Each bottle they were holding had a value of about €6.00 so it was safe to say that if they bored of knocking back wine, they could use the remaining "alcohol" to remove paint from their bedroom walls. Instead they were animatedly comparing the alcohol percentages of each wine. They were torn between the 11.5% and they 12% bottles as the 12% was an extra €2. But, the brains of tomorrow cleverly deduced that if they spent a little more on the 12% bottle they would be more intoxicated therefore they would spend less on alcohol once they got into town later thatnight. You have to love the economics of an inpoverished mind.

My life has been so boring this last week

Sleep in
Get up
Shower ( only because society dicates so)
Take pills
Mope
Waste half my life on the internet
Take pills
Ingest baby food
watch crap on tv
Take pills
Ogle Ian on web cam
Stay up too late
Watch Ugly Betty reruns
Take pills
Go to bed

However, i did fit in a little shopping between taking my pills and ogling Ian.I bought clothes that have resulted in me spending the last day justifiying their purchase. I might as well look good justifying......

I had my wisdom teeth removed today. All four. I have zero swelling, bruising or pain. How strange. I'm sitting up, talking and taking in soft foods. Apparently once I came out of my anaesthetic I was full of the joys of life and had a great chat with the nurses. I was left in recovery for ages where I nearly went insane from boredom. I can only presume that the anaesthetic, painkillers and suppository combined completely numbed any potential pain. I am incapable of staying in bed during the day, so had a rather difficult time sitting in my recovery bed from 9am to 5 pm. Mind you, if I could, I would have an anaesthetic every 6 months. After anaesthetic, I feel so refreshed and relaxed. Perhaps I feel that way, as I go into the operating room all geared up for a long deep deep sleep. Nothing like it. However all the other people in recovery asked for injections to ease nausea and vomiting following their anaesthetic. Not power girl! Made of steel, me.

Today I went into the clinic wearing a hoodie, cargo pants, trainers, with no make up, spots all over my face and my ipod glued to my ears. I filled out my vitals on the medical report, handed it back only to have the nurse come back to tell me that I had made an error on my form. She didn't believe that I was 26. She thought I was about 17. How fabulous I thought, until I realised she probably thought I was still in my teens what with my spot ridden face and ipod blasting the latest from yer man Mika.

I am so depressed. I decided to take a look around some of the stores after work- try on a few things, see how the new clothing offerings work out on me. They don't. It appears one must be verging on an eating disorder to fit into half of what is on hangers. I refuse to give up food. I have far too important a relationship with it. Instead I shall craft something from a reusable shopping bag. I have oodles of them. Maybe I could even join the local knitting circle. I could enjoy tea with the old dears, get the low down on the best dentures out there, discuss who is the best looking in the local 70-80 year old male range, get my Sunday best out for Sunday service. The possibilites are endless. Mind you, I did buy a skirt in the Winter sales last weekend. A velvet wine number with green flower things embroidered on panels. It sounds rather disgusting, but it is quite the opposite. In fact it is a little ridiculous. I have no idea when or where I would even wear it. Perhaps that is why it was 70% off.......... they saw me coming.

Chuckle Chuckle.

For those of you that haven't been eating your recommended daily allowance of vegetables click on the Dilber cartoon to enlarge.

I noticed today that I haven't written very often in recent weeks. I have been a mixture of lazy and busy..... contradictions in themselves. Ian came to Ireland a few days after Christmas and stayed here for two weeks. We had a wonderful time, even if I nearly nagged him to an early grave. The company that I was temping with before Christmas have signed me to their name - a very positive move.

I would like to type some more but I when I return home in the evening, the last thing I want to do is sit down in front of another computer and type some more... mind you though I can now do that crazy typing - staring wide eyed at the screen , never glancing at the keys, tapping like a maniac while managing to type sentences word perfect. In the words of a Korean child, "Aaaazzaaaah".

I am also getting very lazy. My job requires that I sit for 6 hours a day. It is getting to the point where I complain about having to get off my chair to pick up a file. I know. I have also made a little foot rest from file boxes and have my chair angled perfectly to compliment said rest...... I am one doughnut away from Chief Wiggum status.

It's the Wild Wild West.

The Cliffs of Moher and the Burren.
Purty.

Igot bored and drew a Santa. Not a lot on TV at 2am.

Bah humbug.

Missed the staff Christmas knees up due to a cold.

Angry, am I.

I passed the Chinese Take Away on my way home. The Chinese famous for dishing out food poisoning as a non optional side dish. There is a jar on the counter saying "Tips".

Enough said.

Last night at the video store there were two boys aged about 12 and 14 looking at dvd's. One picked up some martial art movie and asked his friend if he would like to watch it. The young lad, looked at the dvd, turned it over and announced that under no cirumstance were they going to rent it if he had to read anything. I tutted at the youth of today and their inability to accept a little change in their movie viewing until I reflected back on my time in Korea. Whenever suggestions were made regarding the renting of Korea, Chinese or Japanese movies, I would whine and moan because I would have to waste my eyesight on subtitles.

I have the mentality of a child.

Depsite being rather sceptical about a Blonde Bond, Wednesday night at the movies put paid to such thoughts. I loved Casino Royale. It has the usual gadgets, ( the worlds tiniest defibrillator), action scenes, chase scenes, ridiculous victories on Bond's part and the essential Bond girls. But, unlike previous renditions of the franchise, this 007 had a human dimension to him. He cried, he nearly died, he sweated, he bled and made countless mistakes. He wasn't robotic in his methods, preferring to show a vulnerable side while still giving an heroic aspect to the character.

The fact that Daniel Craig is as hot as a pancake and built like a brick outhouse does sway my opinion ever so slightly.

I have made a very depressing discovery. Elmo toys are a one off. Apparently, each year, the Elmo factory churns out the latest talking, dancing, laughing Elmo, example being Tickle Me Elmo from a few years ago. The Elmo factory people may never make Tickle Me Elmo again. Ever. So, right now every E-Bay seller is being kept awake each night dreaming about what they will do with the fortune they rake in from selling Tickle Me Elmo for outlandish sums to fools like me.

In the below clip, you can see the resident hound figures the hysterical Elmo is another reason to dig up the back garden. My cat (RIP), was not such a big fan of my Elmo. Ian bought me the Hawaiian one, which does the limbo, rolls around and sings a rather fetching little tune. Whenever I let Elmo do this 'thang', the cat would recoil in horror, attempt to kill him and when he showed no signs of going to the Pearly Gates, she would sit in disgust, turn her back to him and hiss.

Aaah yes, Elmo, a treat for all the family.

Tickle Me Elmo X TMX Elmo

I have discovered that it it more exhausting to pretend to be working than it is to actually be working. It is more exhausting to try to drag out an activity over an hour than to it is to get it done in 10 minutes.

At this rate of going I could actually turn into a workaholic!

Wahey!

Borat!


This evening I went to see Borat with some friends and what a cinematic experience it proved to be. I had tried to avoid reading reviews prior to viewing, but curiosity killed me. I caved in and indulged in perusing the Times and was shocked that one of the primary, notoriously fickle critics, Cosmo Landesman, granted it an unheard of five stars. I was intrigued that it had received such rave reviews, considering that Borat himself has always been a rather controversial character, and so was keen to see what all the 'kerfuffle' was about.

To cut short what could be a really long personal opinion, all I have to say is, it must be seen. It is hilarious, offensive, shocking, eye opening , jaw dropping and everything that one would expect from a Sacha Baron Cohen creation. It is no holds barred. It is vulgar. It is horrifying, but above all, it is an entertaining, well made piece of cinema.

However if you are offended by those that mock or insult, Kazakhstan, homosexuality, Jews, gypsies, Americans, feminists, Evangelicals, politicans, black people, white people, fat people, right wing individuals, terrorism, Hitler, or Pamela Anderson, you might want to opt for something Disney made.

My brother doesn't seem to realise that we have to pay for gas and electricity in the real world. I have lost track of all the times that I have come home to find all the lights on, gas on , windows open and all sorts of media appliances running at the same time. This evening is a fine example. I returned from work to find the lights on in every single room, even though he was lying on the couch in the living room, the heating on, with all doors and windows open, the shower on to build up steam to decrease his shirt, and the iron on even though it wasn't being used ( seeing as the waste of water and gas was already taking care of his shirt).

Mutter

Why won't the sentences on my below post align correctly? Is this a sign that I am supposed to go Beta? I would, if I knew what on earth Beta was.

I've decided I want a pet. A real pet. None of that robotic stuff for me. However, seeing as I am not home enough and rather lethargic about cleaning up their 'mess', I may have some obstacles to overcome.

Dog- might as well get a child instead considering all the minding they require, what with extended walks, mountain sized bags of feed, poop walks, playtime, attention time, hug time, pat time, fetch time, bath time so on so forth
Cat- good to leave on their own, but bad when one returns from a day of work and is greeted with toilet roll shredded confetti style on the bathroom floor. One is forced to reconsider ones
thoughts. Also, cat litter stinks.
Budgie- the constant tweeting would drive me to feed it to the above cat
Turtle - would freeze to death here. Damned if I am buying all the fancy schmanzy equipment
to keep the thing alive. Enough of a struggle to keep myself warm.
Fish - Ian has fish. I forgot to feed them on many an occasion, or, to compensate, over fed
them, ( fussy little critters) and moaned when we had to clean the bowl. Plus they aren't any
fun. The dont do tricks, apart from the 'belly up' one.
Reptile things - vomit
Pony- always wanted one, but I think the Building Management ladies might have a negative comment or two about a little Sheltand 'mowing' the patch of grass some developer had the nerve to call a garden.
Hamsters- They die at an early age..........perhaps the constant running on a wheel is akin to the human stress test. Weeds out the weaklings. Mind you, I couldnt deal with the weekly grief.

The real thing does not appear to be a viable option.

However, this is!

It's genius. It even hisses if its tail is pulled. What a wonderful lesson to teach young and impressionable children

Happy Halloween!

It is true what is said about Irish weather.

It rains everyday.

I have seen it all. I really have. An English tv channel has aired a programme called "Flash Families". It charts the excessive lifestyle of three families in England, two who can afford it and one who cannot. One family decides to go duck hunting for the day and heaven forbid if they wore standard outdoor protective clothing. No, the botox loving wife is costumed in a full length fur coat with leopard skin, Russan style hat and leopard skin dress. Standard attire for a day in mud. Not to be outdone, the family getting by on a modest income, provide their four kids with designer clothing. Most entertaining was the 13 year old son who was filmed getting dressed for a christening. He estimated that it would take him an hour and a half to get ready, what with fitting in shaving, applying aftershave and choosing from his wardrobe ranging from Burberry to Versace. Good lord. The final family consisted of a bunch of spoiled brats. The daughter of the family argued with her brother over which car to drive, so the Mum went to their local Gucci store, picked up a bag worth £350 and brought it home to turn her daughter's frown upside down. However, she didn't want her feuding son to feel bad so she purchased a Gucci coat to brighten up his day.

Complete and utter insanity.

God, I love TK Maxx. Really, I do. Where else can one purchase a fabulous full length cardigan coat for what a Mammy would term, "a steal". I am refusing to shop anywhere else from now on. However, I am not a fan of the 'mail train', from Cork to Dublin, otherwise known as the 530am Insanity Ride. It was the redneck train, stopping at every single station on the way. Apparently the middle of the country doesnt quite get things up and going at 6am, as every station we passed through was completely deserted with ne'er a light on, ( which would have been nice, seeing as sunrise wasn't until after 8am), or a soul leaning on a shovel. It was rather eerie to hear the swwoosh of the doors as they swung open at each stop, only to note that no one emerged from the darkness onto the light of the train. Spooky.

I loathe job searching. I loathe how people analyse and dissect and dismiss a CV that took the best part of a lifetime to create. I loathe how, despite all "CV Creation Guides", there doesn't appear to be a defintive method to producing a successful CV. I loathe how not one professional agreed on a format for my CV. I hold special contempt for the "trained professional" who, after perusing my CV, failed to notice that I had any third level qualifications and demanded to know how on earth I had been employed by a secondary school. I can only presume she suffered some form of temporary blindness for three lines.

I have become quite the wizard at job searching. I think I am BFF with a number of recruiters and on-line sites and I am quite the typist too. I had a meeting today with a recruitment agency for some work to help boost my experience in administration. After our meeting, the very nice lady suggested that I do a typing test. Initially I thought she was joking, that was until I found myself seated in front of a computer, typing for all I was worth. The computer software told me, "You are a great typist!". It may have been the highlight of my day. I should at this point thank msn and Ian for encouraging my typing skills. Quite the exercise for a modern day typist. However, while typing, scenes from "The Secretary" kept running through my mind. Not the kind of thoughts you want when trying to beat a computer.

I had a complaint about my blog. Yes. A real live complaint. The culprit? Claire King. Apparently I failed to mention the glorious weekend at her cottage on the edge of Lake Eerie..so to prevent a seismic shift in relations, I shall pen my memoir of those celebrated days. (!!)

Prior to Ian returning to university, he and I travelled to the cottage that his aunt and uncle own for a few days. For those that aren't in the know, it is quite common for Canadians to own a little cottage in the heart of the countryside, to escape that madness that is weekday downtown Toronto. Their cottage is not far from the small, unassuming... oh who am I kidding, from the redneck town of Dunville, far enough to ignore, near enough to get Tim Hortons.
Where their cottage is located, there aren't any tarmac avenues or bright lights. Instead there are grass drives and bonfires. The cottage was deceivengly small, as once we entered I was quite amazed at how large the interior was and how beautifully decorated it was.

Subsuquent days went spent lounging on the deck or by the lake with drink in hand, or running like a woman possessed from the wasps that were , contrary to what others may say, trying to kill me. Evenings were spent watching 'Lost', which is a pile of poo or watching Ian cook food, which was not poo.

John and Claire joined us at the cottage for the weekend and over the course of the weekend we were treated to fresh trout, swedish games, rotti, Trivial Pursuit defeats, countless card games and the highlights of the weekend.......... Horse Racing and the most amazing fabulous wonderful fattening,who cares if it is fattening, tantalising, sensational dessert ever....

To explain. A friend of John and Claire, found or developed... I am a little unsure, a board/gambling game called horse racing. It is a little difficult to explain, but the 'ingredients' are a wooden board, cards, money, luck, money and a terribly positive outlook! I enjoyed the game immensely, Ian nearly had to be taken away in the Gambler's Anonymous ambulance.

The dessert. The most amazing dessert in the world was made by another friend of John and Claire. It sounds simple, but the taste is not........ possibly due to the volumes of sugar. To create one takes a little pretzel and a little mini rolo. Squish the rolo on top of the pretzel slap it in the oven until a little melted, remove. Atop the melted, squished rolo, place a nut... brazil, walnut, hazedl... not the village kind and demolish. Yum.

I am scared to recreate for fear I will inadvertently maim the treat, thereby terminating my relationships with the rolo, the nut and the pretzel.

Vroom.

On Friday night, in the middle of a huge fork lightning storm, Ian and I started our journey to Watkins Glen racetrack in New York state. What an eventful journey we had, from Ian convincing himself we were lost to me seeing Amish people for the first time and getting far too excited over it, from the horrendously expensive cars, to seeing said horrendously expensive cars returned to their owners in a bucket after one spin out too many. Prior to going, I had asked Ian what I could expect to see over the weekend. I received a response, dripping with sarcasm, "Cars, Eileen, cars". Turns out we were attending the biggest vintage racing event in the United States. And we had HOT PASSES! I will admit that when I was handed the hot pass I was oblivious as the advantages it afforded Ian and I. We were allowed amble through all the garages, the pits, the pit stop areas and the technical areas. Of course the only thing that I wanted to see was a spectacular crash. There was only one, which I somehow missed, but I did catch sight of the remains. The area where the car shells were placed resembled a car morgue what with all the broken parts covered by white sheets.

Over the course of two days I saw a lot of cars and have decided that my favourite is the Ford GT 40 cos it looks nice. No technical reasoning at all, although I was assured that I had made a good choice.

The race was being held near the small town of Watkin's Glen, but Ian and I were staying in a little area called Painted Post. How amazing are Americans with placenames? Our hotel was a pretty swiffy place and was right next to Denny's, the American culinary experience. Everyone had told me Denny's was a nasty place, that the food was terrible and that I would probably die after a plate. Well those people obviously haven't tried the Extreme Grand Slam........... or a real Irish breakfast for that matter.

Travelling from Canada into the States was one of those "Please, not again" situations. Havnig stopped at the border, Ian and I were directed to 'Room 1' to await processing as I was not a citizen of either border country. As soon as I stepped into the holding room, I could feel the depression. The room looked as though it might have been a bathroom at some time in the past and was painted that disgusting public bathroom green. Sitting in the room were five men from Pakistan and India and a family of seven from an area of Africa. After sitting in the room for 4o minutes I was starting to get on the wrong side of grumpy, but felt even worse when me, the white girl, was allowed entry into the States before the Indians, Pakistanis or Africans, even though they had been waiting far longer than me. How just......................................................?

Returning to Canada took an entire 3o seconds. Anyone think America is overdoing it slightly?


I noticed at the race meet that the majority of the people there were middle aged if not older. Once explained to me it made a lot of sense seeing as some of the cars in show cost in excess of a million dollars and I do not know many twenty one year olds that can afford such wheels.

Typical. On Sunday night I was floating around the Toronto city area. Brad Pitt was doing similar and somehow he missed me. I need to formulate a plan for next year. Better strategy will be developed.

In happier news I have discovered Dairy Queen. Well, not just Dairy Queen, but the Blizzard. There are 11 toppings to choose from. Except me to be found, unconscious, in a pool of melted Blizzards with all 11 toppings in and around me.

All you can eat sushi for lunch. I may be ill. There is a parfait cup in the fridge. If I have to manually make room in my stomach for parfait I will do so.

Weekend plans are all set. I am going to New York state for vintage car racing with Ian and his Mom and Dad. I shall not be racing cars, although I am quite sure there are some of you that would be willing to pay to witness that debacle.

Looks like I will be particpating in the process that built the Americas. Immigration. After much thinking, discussing, and attempts at getting my head around the Canadian Immigration method, I feel that it is more advantageous to get my hands on a residency card, as I will be afforded far more opportunities in Canadia with permanent status. It is a long process involving a large chunk of my bank account, a medical from some Canadian approved Irish doctor and a thorough police check into my background. How delightful. I will be starting the process towards the end of September once I am back in Ireland, and will stay in Ireland, until I have been approved. It throws a rather large dent in the plans that Ian and I had, but it is the best in the long run.

So with that in mind I shall dedicate myself to enjoying my time here in Canada. Not that I haven't been doing that already, what with the lakes, the zoo, the barbeques and the parfait I found at a local store, which may result in me paying for excess personal weight on my flight to Ireland. Of course I have managed to justify my consumption of said parfait by "jogging" to the store...... not that I can see any immediate results.

On Saturday I will fly to Toronto.

However, I have been forced to beat myself up mentally as I never bothered to get a second airmiles card last year and so have waved goodbye to thousands of points. But, I have managed to turn that frown even more upside down as I am participating in the worst activity in the world....packing. I am incapabable of packing light, and must admit that when I see people at the baggage carousel in airports swinging the little bag over their shoulder that contains a toothbrush and a thong for their two week vacation, I get jealous. I feel obliged to pack for all four seasons,all weather conditions and so what if it is the middle of August, it could snow and I MIGHT need that goose down coat.

I decided to leave all my washing until today, which means I have a mountain of ironing to do. Of course, there aren't any guarantees that I will actually do any of it. Not like I signed a contract with the iron. I'll reason a way out of doing it. Of course getting one part of me to reason/negotiate with the other part of me might the symptomatic of something much deeper.....

Today I went into town to get my Canadian dollars and was forced to deal with a weed of an employee. Disaster. I stood at the teller and explained that I was here to collect Canadian dollars and US travellers cheques under the name of E. O'Brien. The weed stared blankly at me and allowed a rather prolonged pause. Eventually after much pausing and staring at each other, he let out a rather large sigh, stared back at me and said, ( wait for it), 'Well I cant do much if you don't tell me who you are'. The security camera was nearly driven through the pea that resides in place of his brain. He was promptly given the 'You had better stop acting the maggot or I will have such a loud complaint made you will regret the day you ever encountered me' look. I rather calmly retold him my name and watched as he forced his bottom from its chair and puffed his way over to the foreign exchange area. He then returned with Canadian dollars and American dollars. I took the opportunity to mimic his sigh and issued the 'look' again and informed him that I had requested US travellers cheques. I might as well have hurled a bucket of cow pats at him such was the look of disgust on his face. He turned from me to stare at the whole two yards he had to retrace back to the foreign exchange area. I was tempted to offer him my bottle of water for the journey, but decided any further aggravation to the weed would have catastrophic effects on my travellers cheques.

Long story short, I got the dollars and cheques and am keeping them under lock and key. The weed wanted to know where I was going in Canada. I lied and said 'Vancouver'. They can have him!

I have finally mastered the art of tranferring pictures from a digital camera to a laptop without Ian's assistance.... and it only took me the better part of a month to learn. However, I have selected just a few pictures from the vacation that Maebh and I took to Hanoi in June of this year. During our stay in Hanoi we took a two day trip around the world heritage site of Halong Bay. The journey was magnificent as watching the enormous limestone islets shoot from water that ranged from blue to rather lagoon like green was awe inducing. The first picture was taken at 6am from the top deck of our junk boat. We slept over night on the junk, but due to intense heat in the cabins I got up early to get some air. The boats are those of local fishermen going to work, travelling through the inlets and bays of Halong Bay.

The second picture is one that I am particularly proud of and should I ever come across a photo competition for 'Those That Have Been To Vietnam And Have Great Pictures To Prove It', I have every intention of entering and winning. The area where I took this picture is the site of the our incident with the local armed forces. The dirt path was a long way off from achieving road status and barely wide enough for a honda 50, yet our tour bus and the army jeeps(we presume they were training in the area), decided they could of course make it down the path at the same time. It was not to be, resulting in the jeep and tour bus scraping sides. Not very enjoyable for the Danish guy sitting beside me (window side),as he was afforded an up close and personal view of the little lake due to the force from the army jeep, pushing our bus closer and closer to the edge of said lake. Of course, did the army jeeps stop after mangling the tour bus. NO. The result of that was seeing our bus driver give chase, disappear around the corner, leaving us alone, in the middle of nowhere with a bus. He eventually came back. Minus an apology from the army. At least my picture is nice.

Picture 3 speaks for itself really. It was taken at the Hanoi War Museum at the base of the Cot Co Flag Tower. What you can see in the picture is military waste. If I knew my war crafts I would list the names of those on display, but, I don't. I did read what they all were at the time, but I blame the heat for erasing all war related information from my head. ( I do believe there were MIG's there though............)

Maebh and I also visited the Temple of Literature which was a magnificent example of Vietnamese architecture. Picture 4 is taken from the interior of one of the buildings. I was quite favouring the inside to outside pictures instead of the outside to inside ones, as the intense afternoon heat was playing havoc with little fragile me. So, I sought refuge in the cool (ish) indoor environment.

While sailing around Halong Bay we stopped at one of the caves that are quite common around the area. The cave that we visited was illuminated with a broad spectrum of colours, some so blinding it was rather difficult to see the rock facing. However, I have my doubts as to whether or not the interior of the caves are genuine, seeing as some of the rock formations looked rather unnatural and did not have the texture one associates with caves. Nevertheless, the interiors were certainly interesting to view. The final picture shows the orange illumination in contrast to the natural light stealing in from an opening.

Yesterday I saw the teeny tiny weener family. Grandad, dad and son tearing up and down the beach with ........well i was going to say with "everything hanging out"................ but ......well..........

It just does not cease to amaze how free and willing these men are to strip to their birthday suits and frolic in the surf.

Of course I cannot talk , seeing as I went out in high waves again, this time with a bodyboard and successfully lost the bottom half of my bikini twice....yes that was fun...diving under incoming waves praying to all the gods that it hadn´t been washed to shore.

Y viva Espana

And so I have been thrown from Korean mayhem into Spanish mayhem, but at least the Spanish don´t care. Today I went swimming in a red flag area because the waves were enormous and I wanted in on the action and did anyone stop me...........? No. Also in stark contrast to Korea are the number of penises (penii?) on display. The Spanish and German men just love to let it ALL hang out and take great pleasure in stripping to their birth state and let the wind flap it around.......

Joyfully it is hot, but not nasty Korea or Vietnam hot so I have taken to sitting out in the sun n the vague hope that i might oneday resemble a somewhat ripened tomato.

I also bought a little black dress here and was most upset when the idiot working the counter just dumped my dress into a bag and dropped my change on the counter. I created a little scene. Got the dress folded into a bag. The change was still thrown at me though............

I also keep asking how much things cost in Korean etc.... and I am most outraged that the Spanish have not embraced the Korean culture and perfected the basic words.

Still though, they seem to have accepted the Irish as there is a Super Value up the street. How I snorted when I saw that...............

Nothing quite beats the feeling of returning home after a long period of time, meeting up with old friends and disovering that your friendship hasn't altered in any way. It really does make you smile.


Tonight I went to a tapas bar in Cork with Aaron and his wonderful boyfriend, John. We enjoyed an outstanding series of tapas, although I must say my plate was particulary perfect what with the local cheese and smoked ham. I had forgotten how entertaining Aaron and his friends are and just how enjoyable it could be to sit with them in a cosy bar enjoying good food and wine, with no one bothered or upset by their flamboyant tendencies. We certainly are not in Korea any more, Toto.

I also blew a fortune on clothes this weekend, but that's another matter, although I am quite in love with my red, ridiculously high heeled shoes..........now to find the right occassion and the right surface to walk on, ensuring minimum damage to ankles.

And so it is all over.

My Korean experience, which was to last twelve months and not three years, is complete. I leave tomorrow for Hong Kong, then to London and then Dublin. I will stay in Ireland for a brief time and then onto Canada to be with Ian.

It feels so very strange to think that I may never see Daegu, my school or people I have met here again. I can't even put into words the feelings I have about leaving here. I presume that I will be a little emotional when the plane takes off from Seoul, but I do hope one day I will be able to return to the place that gave me so much.

O f course once I get to Limerick I will have been travelling non stop for 36 hours, if not more, so the only emotion that will be going around my head will be the love for my bed.

Maebh and I are in Hanoi and it is HOT! Not just hot, but very very very hot. However, it is a combination of very beautiful and incredibly hectic. So much so that Maebh is in her element participating in extreme road crossing ( there arent any lanes here and no one acknowledges lights so traffic is a free for all) and I shriek and scream like...well... a girl while clutching her arm as we navigate traffic. Yes, I am made of steel.

We are staying in an adorable hotel with a really nice room, complete with ants and lizards and fabulously strong Vietnamese coffee.

However if one more person trys to sell me postcards I may be deported for commiting a nasty crime. It has gotten to the stage where Maebh and I are pretending we don't speak any English, but we really haven't perfected our art, as when we asked where we are from we are never too sure of what continent, never mind what country, we are from.

Today we are going to view Ho Chi Minh's resting spot... we are going there by motorbike. I hope to make it back in one piece, although the huge sign in the centre of Hanoi saying that there were 539 traffic deaths last year does not fill me with any hope.

Soccer, I mean football..no soccer...wait..


Some of you may be aware of a minor sporting even taking place in a little known area, I believe referred to as, Germany. Some call this sporting event, the “Beautiful Game”, others consider is a rather large bore and then there are the few die-hard Korean fans who eat, sleep and poop the game. Korea played Togo on Tuesday night, so a 4-way intersection with 12 lanes was closed down in Daegu, 4 super duper screens were erected and the odd enthusiastic fan ventured to the intersection to cheer on the national treasure. I have an enormous stash of pictures from the night, but my camera is missing the cable that magics shots from it to a computer. So, once again I have had to borrow some pictures from Maryanne. In case you are wondering, red is the favoured colour for the national team and the little red horns are not representing what you think they are representing. The Korean team players have been nicknamed the, ‘Red Devils’. Silly me thought the title belonged to Manchester United. I have some videos from the night, but it will be a few weeks before I gather my technological know-how and various essential wires and cables










Estimated numbers for those in attendance at the above intersection alone was 50,000. Yet, despite the volume of people, it was oddly organised. There weren't any visible police or riot staff, yet everyone behaved with great dignity. The most surprising aspect was that everyone sat on the street. The only people standing were those at the rear of each street. Standing was only permitted when a goal was scored and in case you weren't aware of the goal, fireworks were shot up into the air from the centre of the crowd! Organising officials were certainly optimistic, as at the end of the game we were treated to a 5 minute fireworks display. Pretty!

Richard, my brother and his friend, Sarah Jane arrived in Daegu on Friday night. We took them out on Saturday night and unfortunately, a member of our party got a little bit drunk and decided that the sofa in one bar was a perfect substitute for his own bed.

Ian and I indulged in one of my favourite dishes here. It is called shabu shabu and has its origins in Japan. The basic method is to place slivers of cold meat in a pot of boiling broth and cook them for a few seconds before placing the cooked strip on a lettuce leaf with some kimchi, rice and gotchujang. Fabulous!


Below is a board that was in the downtown area of Daegu. On each red ribbon are good luck wishes for the Korean soccer team. Koreans are a patriotic bunch so all hopes are being pinned on their soccer stars.
The lady at the bottom was doing face painting in Daegu during one of their street festivals. I liked her look. Felt she brought the ancient Orient into the modern environment with great success.

Every country has its ups and downs, its pros and its cons , ( as demonstrated by a previous post). However, Ireland has its own share of faults, although what this article lists, suggests a little more than a 'share'.

In other news Maebh and I will be going to Hanoi at the end of June.

Hurrah.

Nergh

There are certain aspects of the Korean people and their culture that baffle me. I have been here since 2003 and still I am perplexed and antagonised by some of their actions

1. The incessant giggling- whenever Koreans are embarrassed or unsure of what to say or do to a foreigner they turn to their nearest and dearest and giggle. Infuriating. Stop giggling and try to work with me!

2. The rubbish- there aren't any rubbish bins, wheelie bins or large French style communal bins. Instead, the street is considered a suitable dumping ground. A few yards from Ian's apartment building door is a pile of rubbish so vile and nauseating that it is becoming somewhat of a chore to walk past it. Of course you can't just throw your rubbish anywhere. There are designated spots. This basically means that the street cats and rats are guaranteed three square meals plus snacks a day.

3. The complete and utter lack of communication between employers, employees and office workers- 99.9% of the time I never know what is happening at my school. I have lost count of the number of times I have walked into one of my classes to find a new student that hasn't got a lick of English and is terrified of the foreign face. It seems unimportant to keep teachers informed of students. I am also amused at the demands often made to have lesson plans, exams, agendas and corrections completed by 6pm when you have been notified of said requests at 4pm.

4.The World Cup- you can't move here for "Go Korea" shirts, jumpers, cups, hats, toys, blah blah... The kids are excited, the adults are excited, EVERYONE is excited for Korea's games. But ask any of them when the matches are being played, who Korea's opponents are and who the members of the team are and you will be met with very perplexed faces.

5. The attitude concerning the education of a child- dear lord in heaven someone needs to sponsor these kids a holiday. From the day of conception until the day they break free from the maternal hold (roughly aged 30), Korean kids are expected to be studying and absorbing as much information as they can so they can get high powered, respectable jobs and never have a childhood. Most kids here don't understand the concept of being bored, simply because their carefully planned educational schedules don’t permit it, most kids here don't understand playing for the hell of it, because again, playtime is to be done in accordance with the schedule and if they don't get any homework THEY REMIND YOU TO GIVE THEM HOMEWORK. I have encountered boys aged 6 that have had hysterical meltdowns because they saw a worm and children that can't play "catch”, because...well...they can't 'catch'.

6. The failure to "Think outside the Box"- Korean culture dictates that people operate as a group resulting in individualism being low on the ground. The Family Unit is very important, as is the notion of cohesive teamwork and uncritical acceptance of absurd office actions. In offices here, the boss is the be all and the end all. What he says goes and cannot be questioned or opposed due to the Confucianism system. Therefore, what the matriarch, patriarch or employer suggests or requests must be done without question. This makes life infuriating for the liberal Westerner who is accustomed to having the rules bent from time to time to accommodate their needs.

7. Working- Koreans are expected to devote their lives to their job, or if they have children, then they become the basis of their mother's actions. For the professional worker, their hours are ludicrous. Some start at 8am and can still be in their offices at 9pm that night. The hard-working westerner will point out that they too are sometimes subjected to these hours, but there is a difference. Work is not consistent here. Work is constantly being interrupted by naps, trips around the office, meal times, phone calls, meal times, texting, trips to the store, texting, moaning about exhaustion, texting and daydreaming. (I should point out that my school is a glaring exception to this as everyone puts in hard work while present). Koreans are all about 'showing face’ so even giving the impression of work is considered acceptable. Maebh and I cracked the rational behind this last year while touring the War Museum in Seoul. It appears that the North Koreans broke through the border into the South while half the Southern border forces were on their day off, so you can understand the fear.......... sort of. In fact vacation days are thin on the ground here. Ask anyone if they have been to a different country and most will reply in the positive. Push them further and you will hear that they "did" Europe in 5 days flat or they travelled from LA to San Francisco to Chicago and back again in the same time. They do not receive our lengthy holidays and are rather envious when informed of opposing actions in other countries.

8. Queue skipping- I can't even type about it. It is the best way to drive my blood pressure through the roof.

9. Xenophobia- very high here and unlikely to change for some time. Koreans are very very proud of their pure blood and do not want it tarnished.

Of course, it has been pointed out to me that actions such as those above, are not unique to Korea. Perhaps, being a foreigner, in a not so foreigner friendly country, has prompted such thoughts, but my observations are not isolated as a hefty number of people concur and have their own grievances. However, Korea is determined to be a power to contend with, both politically and economically in the near future, but its xenophobic attitude and unwillingness to change is curbing such actions. But then again, if Ireland was able to give itself an image overhaul noticed on the world stage, then there is hope for Korea.