"He ain't heavy, he's my..."

This is gonna cost us some counseling sessions...

Whew!

Made it through Day One--and not any visible marks!

"Mama pyjama rolled outta bed..."

This makes Holy Rosary Edmonds seem absolutely Bucolic!

Call. Blow. Pump.

ODC teaching classmate CPR--grade promotion any day now!

Theme music from Jaws

ODC cautiously approaches St. Maries of the Isle--probably shouldn't have let her watch the Magdalene Sisters last night.

"Attention class. Class attention. Class! Shut up!!!! Thank you.

We knew we liked Older Dreadful Creature's (ODC) teacher when she rugby tackled a little Irish boy who, not quite ready to leave the cocoon, was running crying after his parents.  She was still restraining him when we left the classroom--fantastic! Eggs are meant to be coddled in Europe, but not children. We had also wanted a bit of cultural diversity for ODC and boy we got it--I thought I had wandered into a United Nations Peace Conference when I walked into the classroom.  Further investigation required, but my guess is our ODC and the little Irish boy are the only native English speakers--that's inner city Ireland 2008.   No automated bell system but rather a nun walking the halls with a hand bell.  Anyway, ODC loved her first day! 

Let the Beatings begin...

Tomorrow is Older Dreadful Creature's (ODC) first day in "Junior Infants" (???) at St. Maries of the Isle in Cork, Ireland.  Her fourth school in four years, three cities and two countries--she will be well-prepared for next year:  French military boarding school.  We wandered over to the school today to buy some supplies and her official St. Maries of the Isle track suit (for real) and we're talking "old school" Roman Catholic:  nuns in habits (carrying black jacks--just kidding), etc...--but extremely friendly welcoming people.  ODC will be studying the ever practical Irish language (I thought it was the Chinese who were going to take over the world) and a multitude of other subjects.  The older school girls were out on the streets today in a various array of lovely uniforms--two things Holy Rosary Edmonds could take note of:  school ties and no white tennis shoes or sneakers on the young ladies or boys for that matter--looked so much nicer. We were also told that that school is so cold in the winter that the kids wear their track suits-- all day--to keep warm and also prepare them for Irish professional life.

Irish lesson:  "Now I'd be deceiving yeh if I'd said yes or no" = I don't know   

Cause like a princess she was lying there, moonlight dancing off her hair..

Well, I am sure my older readers can fill in the rest of that 1974 Sammy Johns classic hit.  Chickens never had it so good.  The two vans are their coops in Dado's front yard.

Soon to be patented, "Hoop the Children"

When the Dreadful Creatures got tired of slaughtering chickens at Dado's house, we went back to the old Edmond's backyard standby.  Required:  Hula hoop, grass, candy for the kids to run to while trying to avoid a hurling hula hoop.

31 to go...

One of my more loftier goals in our time here is to have a pint in each of the 32 counties.  County Wexford, the Rag in New Ross.

Be Prepared

As we learned on the way back to Cork from Dado's house, petro stations are in short supply here.  As we finally rolled into one, the non-gasoline choices for the dreadful creatures were a touch limited.

Irish lesson:  Minerals and Chocs = Soda (or pop for our Edmond's friends) and candy

See you next time, Dado

Just another manic Monday...

Fairly typical Monday morning:  up with Dado, stop by petro station for bad cup of coffee, drive to Kilkenny City, go to anonymous car park, buy three ducklings out of back of lorry because Dado likes duck eggs for breakfast.  I tell you, saving loads on petting zoo fees with the visit to Dado's.

Irish Lesson:  car park = parking lot; lorry = truck

I think I need a hamburger..

With the dreadful creatures pulling each other's hair out,  CW in front of the Olympics (aside--have to like the Irish commentator today--as one of the USA women's relay team was being awarded its gold by an IOC official who happened to be a Sikh, the comment was, "They trot out some strange fellows don't they"--tomorrow an Irish boxer will be going for the gold; great to be in a country with so much pride on the line while watching a sporting event.aside over) and Dado was chopping and stacking wood.  So, I got on with my touring.  Drove down to New Ross, County Wexford and boarded the Dunbrody, a "famine" ship" that sailed to New York in 1845 full of hungry Irish people.  Character actors portrayed the various passengers/crew who would have been onboard and let's just say it would have been no Queen Mary 2.  Anyone needing to straighten out their over-indulged children would be wise to give them a "Scared Straight" experience here.  

Over the hills and through the woods to Dado's house we go!

We have left the comforts of the city (now there's a bad idea) and have driven to the "country" for a few days--Knocktopher, Kilkenny to be exact.  Driving on the wrong side of the road wasn't as bad as I expected--only a few near head-ons when I momentarily lapsed into States' habits.  One of the last times I drove on the "wrong" side of  the road was in Lahore, Pakistan. We were in bit of a hurry and trying to get around a herd of goats in the road. So we headed toward a narrow alley.  My partner Doug's last words were, "Looks a little tight" and mine were "Loads"--and then I wedged the car between to two walls, instantly to be surrounded by fifty pointing and laughing Pakistanis (I have never been anywhere in the world where a crowd forms as fast as in Pakistan).  Anyway,  yesterday's trip was less eventful.  Last night, we ate carrots and potatoes from Dado's garden and this morning we will have eggs from the chickens he keeps in two rusty vans in his front yard--and I thought my friend Grant was bad--So Dado and Current Wife (CW) are still sleeping this Saturday morning and I am up with the two dreadful creatures.  I have tried to make a fire in the stove so I can make a yummy cup of Dado's instant coffee.  But Dado has no kerosene,  and I filled the entire house with smoke. Dado and CW are either still sleeping or have perished from smoke inhalation (that would mean we were only married one month--whoopee!).   I now have googled  "Starbucks, Ireland" and got Dublin--a mere two hour drive up country.  So I gotta go now--have to resuscitate, I mean wake up CW, and tell her I am going out for coffee and a paper.

Irish lesson # 3:  Dado = Grandpa

On a happier note...

Family portrait brought to you by Pez.

Aloha, Bill

"Bill, I love you so, I always will..."  So sang the 5th Dimension and so say I today.  You hit a certain point in life where the wedding invitations seem to dry up and deaths of loved ones start to pile up on your doorstep.  My dear friend (and second cousin) Bill Wormington passed away this weekend in Honolulu, Hawaii and the world is a much lesser place.  Bill was in his eighties, but was in the midst of heading on another 'round the world trip this fall--I had hoped to meet him and his wife Judy somewhere on their itinerary.  I first met Bill in 1990 when, in the midst of one of those "government" jobs, I got plunked down in Manhattan, never having been and knowing not a soul.  An aunt passed on Bill's number to me and the very day I called him I was soon at a wild party ala "Breakfast at Tiffany's" style in their tiny apartment meeting all sorts of crazy characters.  That began an eighteen year friendship that contained at its roots a deep affection for everything  New York City, unlimited desire for world travel, and a fondness for art--the art of drinking.  Bill was generous with both time and spirit.  His Manhattan apartment became my home when I would blow in from "adventures" in  Pakistan and his Catskills retreat was my escape from the City.  His cabin was filled with books, records from the 40s, booze and had a wood burning hot tub.  I used to try to replicate his fire starting skills and would come back in the house  sorely disappointed- with him just shaking his head--until the night I saw him soak the lot with a cup of kerosene.  Every Fourth of July he would venture down to Chinatown and fill his car with illegal fireworks bound for the country--Judy and I would proceed to have exceedingly dangerous firecracker wars.  Motorcycles, dogs, guns, skiing, scotch, hiking, fix-it--Bill was all man and yet was a complete soft touch.  He retired first to the Catskills but just too quiet for him after all those years in the City.  They completely switched gears and moved permanently to Kona, Hawaii where he spent his last years (one which included trekking around Mount Everest).  In January of this year, as fate would have it, I spent two weeks in Kona, literally across the street from Bill and was able to enjoy his company every day.  As my trip was winding down, Bill and I went to the Harbor House where Bill swore the beer was coldest on the planet--he would know!  He said to me, "Brian,  other people need stuff, you and I need to see the world." You're right, Bill, and now I will travel for you.  I miss you and God damn, you left too soon!

"It's not the critic that counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or when the doer of deeds could have done better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and  sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."

Theodore Roosevelt

Catch-22 by Joseph O'Heller

So, in order to open a bank account here you need proof of address.  For proof of address, you need an ESB (i.e. PUD, Con Ed) utility bill.  To sign up for an ESB account, you need a bank account because ESB only allows direct debit bank  (told you they were a suspicious lot).  And to top it off, you need both an ESB account and bank account to get wireless.  We're screwed!

Irony?

The quintessential Irish oxymoronish address.  It's actually the name of a bar near us.  Never seems to be busy.

Don't Walk

This is ODC trying to cross the street in Cork City Centre.  Not sure where the Irish put all that EU money.  Actually, it's Fota Wildlife Park a short train ride outside Cork.  

Irish lesson # 2:  Wildlife Park = Zoo.

Can't we all just get along?

So well put by our dear friend Rodney.  They are enjoying each other's company for a moment--I think their watching Benny Hill re-runs.

And the full frontal...

That's us in the third floor flat--for those planning a visit, no elevator.

A room with a View

This is the view from the back window of our apartment.  In the upper right pane is the posh building that would not take kids--screw them.  In the upper left pane is St. Finbarr's Cathedral.  Himself was the Bishop of Cork in the 6th century and he is the patron Saint of Cork.  ODC's school, St. Maries, is across the street from the Cathedral, about 5 minute walk from the apartment.  See, from S-H-I-T to religious history in one post--I know who my audience is.

Mister Softee

Sunday morning has become movie day for myself and the ODC.  I am trying to impart to her my love of cinema--you know the snobby subtitle thing.  The last three weeks have been Wall-E, Kung Fu Panda, Space Chimps.  Well, today our local theater had run out of "kids movies" and ODC had seen this advert over the last few weeks and has been begging me.  No matter that her 8 and 10 year old cousins were next door watching Wall-E--she wanted to see "Wild Child".  So, I relented being the soft touch that I am.  Well, the very very first word of dialogue was "S-H-I-T exclamation point" followed shortly by "BEE-AUTCH" yes, even ODC understands that pronunciation.  All in  all, the film, rather movie, was fairly harmless and most of it went over her head.  Thankfully next Sunday we will be far out in the countryside at CW's Dad's place.  Somewhere on Second Avenue North someone is saying a Novena for me when in fact she should be thanking me for prescreening the film for her.

Irish Language Lesson #1:  Candy Floss = Cotton Candy.  Seems a bit strange how something that rots your teeth contains a dental reference.  Also, no twizzlers or anything similar are sold at Irish theaters.  The madness continues. 

It's been one week since...

Yes, I am a lame blogger. Getting wireless here for your personal computer is not a simple matter. In addition, CW and I have been having the t.v. or no t.v. debate and that has slowed down things as well. ODC has never had t.v. in her first five years so...Well, a bit to report. I have been officially been granted permission to remain in Ireland for one year and am entitled to work (too bad) and benefits (?). It would have been longer but due to my recent marriage, Irish Immigration will renew my status after a year and give me an additional four years. Still working out what health benefits, etc.. we are entitled to. Since the huge influx of foreigners (me and 50,000 Polish Butchers), the social services have tightened up bit. But hey, it's great seeing the "dark" Irish on the streets in this new world. We did move into an apartment--Apt 3, 12 Dyke Parade, Cork. And this is why I don't allow posts--can you see the multitude of "woman in comfortable shoes walking by" comments I would receive. See, so there. Anyway, the Irish family that has seen it says we got good value (1100 Euro per month ) and it's furnished as are most apartments here. 5 minutes from St. Maries (ODC's school), 8 minutes from Fitzgerald Park (Cork's Central Park or maybe I should say Edmond's City Park), 10 minutes from University College Cork (UCC) Health Club where we get a discount as CW is a graduate (so she says). Am preparing a small picture book of my Irish daily life that will be on view at Daphnes so you can envy my life or most likely appreciate yours even more. Speaking of envy, We will be travelling to Paris for a few day in October before flying to Edmonds/New York the last two weeks in October. Hope to do a couple of guest bartending shifts at Daphnes if allowed. Missing so far? Big, powerful hot showers--taking a shower here is like being drooled on by a passed out drunk. YDC has chosen not to sleep anymore so we are delirious at the moment but all in time. The apartment is decent sized so guests from the States are now officially invited...C'mon, after years of having Irish people who CW supposedly was related to lounging in my apartment, it's time for revenge. Well, I know most of you must get to the Monroe Fair I mean the Taste of Edmonds--is there any difference? I remain your humble reporter.

The Sweet Sounds of Home...

It's 5:30 a.m. Saturday morning with CW and DCs still fast asleep. I have always preferred baseball on the radio and for $14.95 for the entire year I can listen to any game on my computer. So here I am in Cork listening to San Diego and San Francisco play in extra innings (Mariners were losing 10-0 so I went with the competetive game). This weekend is a "bank holiday" (Monday off) so Irish people can go away for the weekend and be rained on somewhere else. Things are looking up in the living arrangements. We have looked at about eight apartments/houses--one actually with a big backyard--but the place was twenty minutes out of city centre. We placed a deposit on an apartment within a five minute walk of St. Maries of the Isle (ODC's school) Even so, I still had to get a lecture from four agents in the real estate office about raising the DCs in City Centre. Sorry about the lack of photos at the moment. I am afraid of breaking CW's sister's computer so I am waiting until my computer is up and running before I post photos--hopefully late next week. All in all, apart from the whole "anti-city Children" living, the only slight negative in our first few Irish days is a bit of sticker shock with the prices here. We knew the dollar-Euro rate was horrible, but the cost of everything here is bloody awful--six-pack of Coors Light is 10.99 Euro--you do the math, it's too early here. I have found a couple of pubs which I particularly like. One is owned by a fella whose brother owns a bar in Long Island, New York. Speaking of small world, CW has already run into several friends in the street. Not bad for a town of about 120,000. That's it for now. Again, sorry about no photos. I know my writing isn't quite painting vivid colorful pictures of Irish living-well, mostly my writing but also it is quite grey and drab here. Cheers.