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14 August 2007

My New Knife

Filed under: mental state — Will @ 20:15

Anita bought a gift for me, and Cindy brought it in her luggage. It’s a lovely new chef’s knife. See how pretty it is?

About six weeks ago, Anita discovered that she loves my guacamole. (It’s a very simple recipe, but she insists that it’s “Will’s Special Guacamole” — so sappy.) She craves it constantly, and always brings home avocados from the store. Making the guacamole is easy, but Anita likes the onions diced small. And my best knife was a serrated knife.

To cut the onions, I would move it back and forth. It’s such a simple machine, I don’t have to use force.

Nevertheless, the serrated edge would mash Knifethe onions rather than dice them, and leave some parts held together by a bit of translucent skin. Enter my new chef’s knife, and voila: Dicing Bliss.

It’s an aspirational purchase. In other words, my cooking skills are not worthy of this knife. I need to learn how to dice properly, first. I must become One with the knife. I will not control the knife, but I will be responsible for what it cuts. I will wield the knife when my thoughts are pure and full of beauty. Only then will I mince the garlic.

27 July 2007

Becoming a resident, Part 2

Filed under: expat,mental state — Will @ 10:36

Another part of becoming a resident is the realisation that local practices really are the most practical response to local conditions. That idea looks obvious when the words appear on my screen! But consider the ugly American tourist who says, “They do things wrong here. Don’t they know about [fill in the blank: Wal-mart, fast food, turn lanes, etc]?” There’s a milder version of this arrogance, and here’s my best description of it.

It rains a lot here, right? I paid attention to how people dealt with the light showers that can come from nowhere, even when the sun is shining. Most people carried umbrellas everywhere, but many toughed out the rain, wearing a coat.

I hate carrying things around in my hands, and I prefer to use a smaller bag when a bag is necessary. So, from the options I saw, I chose to wear a decent coat and leave the umbrella at home.

CAUTION: THE FOLLOWING MAY INSPIRE ENVY. The coat serves a double purpose. When the sun is out, it serves as an ideal pillow for a grassy knoll or a park bench.

Here’s my experience without the umbrella. I’m not just running from my car to the indoors; I’m walking a real distance around the city. I occasionally arrived at a store or a cafe soaking wet, and anxiously tried to avoid shaking drops on people and goods around me. My approach just wasn’t working.

So I started carrying an umbrella. And later, I noticed that many of the people “toughing it out” through a light rain were carrying an umbrella — they just had a different threshold for using it. When it rained a little harder, very few were without umbrellas. And the ones without had an expression on their faces that read, “Damn, I wish I had my umbrella.”

So now, I carry an umbrella almost every day. I walk through light showers while the men and women in fine work clothes use an umbrella immediately. But in real rain, we’re all under cover.

This post is about joining the mainstream. Eventually, one comes to understand the minority opinions and the exceptions to the rules. I don’t expect that to happen for many months. Many people reside in places — even their hometowns — without ever understanding the practices outside the mainstream.

When it comes to our last home, in Gurnee, I wonder whether I even came to understand the mainstream. I took a minority approach to life in the suburbs — even a dissident approach. Was that the arrogance of the visitor, condemning the mainstream habits of locals without understanding them? Or did I already know the mainstream, and so adopted an informed alternative? It didn’t occur to me to ask the question, while I was living there.

I wonder what I’ll learn here.

13 July 2007

Becoming a resident, Part 1

Filed under: dublin,expat,mental state — Will @ 18:12

The first step to becoming a resident of a city? Actually moving there. The moving company retrieved the paper and cardboard Wednesday evening, so I can say that we’re moved in.

Just hours before that, I realized a less obvious step in becoming a resident of Dublin. I had to complete an errand quickly, so I hopped on my bike and sped through traffic. I went around and across the Liffey River. As I weaved between buses, I saw exactly the view that appears on standard postcards of Dublin. It was lightly cloudy and the warmest it’s been in weeks.

For the past six weeks, I’ve sauntered through my errands, stopping frequently to admire the city. I was, in effect, still a long-term tourist. I’d say that I was thinking like an university student who spends a summer abroad. I had life’s little tasks and inconveniences, unlike someone on holiday, but my mental state was that of a tourist nonetheless.

Anita's pic of Custom House on LiffeyWednesday, I noticed the Custom House as I zipped across a bridge. I didn’t ignore it, but I didn’t feel the awe that caused me to say, “I love Dublin,” whenever anyone asked. The Custom House was just there — impressive, yes, but mainly a traffic pinch-point for my purposes at the time.

In other words, I’m thinking more like a resident of Dublin. I wouldn’t say that I’m more callous to the beauty of this city. In fact, I’m finding new things to love all the time. But what I rarely feel is a peculiar, emotional response to the city, a sense of vast possibilities around every street-corner. It was so strong sometimes that I literally felt it in my chest. It felt just like the anticipation of something wonderful — like a thick envelope from your university of choice, a long-awaited engagement ring, or an unexpected recognition of your hard work.

I haven’t felt that lately. I still have the optimism and sense of possibilities, but it’s more intellectual and removed. I welcome the shift, because I believe it is necessary to live here, in the actual city, rather than some self-centered fantasy. A few weeks ago, I actually said that the city specially welcomed me, because the weather was excellent for my first week. That was hyperbole, of course, but it did reflect the self-orientation that tourists have — must have — in order to “experience” a new place.

8 July 2007

A Cold Afternoon at the Seashore

Filed under: entertainment,ireland,mental state — Will @ 20:22

The sun was streaming in the windows of our home Saturday midday. After a week of poor weather and busy schedules, we had to seize the sunshine while it lasted.

I wanted to go to the seashore, to see a beach that was mentioned in Ulysses: Forty Foot at Sandycove. Plus, it was high tide, and I hadn’t seen saltwater up close yet!

We packed food, reading, and our folding chairs. As usual, Anita took a coat and wore several layers of clothes. I went outside and decided that the sun was strong and the temperature was warm. I was going to the beach — I was supposed to wear shorts and sandals.

At Sandycove, near the Joyce Tower, we found the famously rocky Forty Foot and a sheltered cove of shallow water. Children were playing where the water met the sand, and jumping into deeper water from a series of rock walls.sandycoveswim.png We fetched our chairs from the car and set up on a grassy patch overlooking the cove.

Several kids were wearing wetsuits, which seems to be the norm. The seawater isn’t dangerously cold, but it’s also not LA or the Gulf.

For me, the problem wasn’t the water. It was the cold air. There was a steady breeze of moist sea air, which was bracing. When the sun shone on us, it was even pleasant. And the idea of an afternoon at the beach is supposed to be about sunbathing.

The sun was shining on many parts of Dublin: on the island of Howth, on sailboats in the distance, and on the townhouses along the Dun Laoghaire Harbor. It was beautiful — as scenery.

Sitting on our chairs, just south of Dun Laoghaire, we didn’t feel much sun. seatsandycove.pngAnita read her book, satisfied with the temp in her black fleece zip-up. I tried to read a local political magazine …but I spent most of my time watching the clouds and hoping that the next patch of blue sky would bring me some warmth.

The wind shifted time and again, as if the clouds were conspiring to keep my patch of the world in the shade. The one time we saw the sun in all its glory, it rained. I felt like a cartoon character with a perpetual cloud over my head.

I was cold, and miserable. Eventually, I stopped toughing it out, and I convinced Anita to go home. cloudssandycove.png Here it is, mid-July, and I can’t get warm outdoors! We sleep under two blankets and a comforter. We run the furnace from time to time. This is absurd.

To be fair, the cool weather is worth it, overall. I’m sure those of you in 90°F aren’t sympathetic to my tale of woe. It’s comfortable to wear ordinary, nice clothes. Today, we went biking in the sun and didn’t break a sweat. Also, Dubliners tell us that this weather is unusual this late in the year.

PS – “Dun Laoghaire” is pronounced approximately like “Done Leery”.

26 June 2007

Seventy percent unpacked

Filed under: expat,mental state — Tags: , , — Will @ 15:40

One of Anita’s friends said that you reach a point of despair in unpacking: You are 70% unpacked, and you have no idea where to put anything that you unpack beyond that. I’ve reached that point.

Plus, there are mountains of wrapping paper in every corner of this place. I think the paper sheets discovered how to reproduce.

25 June 2007

Paper Paper Everywhere

Filed under: expat,mental state — Tags: , , — Will @ 17:31

paperspill.png

So far, the toughest part of unpacking is the grey paper wrapped around everything. If I just toss it aside, I will be crowded out of the house — pushed like Kent from the popcorn house in Real Genius.

Our stuff arrived!

Filed under: expat,mental state — Tags: , , — Will @ 12:26

Our shipment of stuff from the States arrived this morning! This is the shipment that went by sea. It was unloaded in less than two hours, by two young men and their supervisor. They seemed to find it unusual that all I wanted was to have the boxes arranged in piles around the house. Now it’s like Christmas, with all the unwrapping, and the many surprises. We have so much stuff!

Anita and I haven’t had much trouble with daily life over the past few weeks. Each of us has a few things that we missed, but not much. So it seems odd to bring so much into our lives.

But with every box I’ve opened, I’ve found things that will make our lives easier. I’m sure it will reach the point where the problems with storing the stuff outweigh the conveniences of having it. I’ll probably reach that point before the end of today!

(I don’t think I’ve ever used this many exclamation points. It’s a little embarassing…but accurate, so I’ll leave them in.)

15 June 2007

We hit the 21st Century — Watch Out!

Filed under: entertainment,mental state — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Anita @ 20:28

One surprising aspect about moving to Dublin is how it has forced Will and me into the 21st Century. In Gurnee, we had basic cable and one old mobile phone that we shared. I believe we may have been the last two people in Gurnee to share one mobile phone. Now, living in Dublin, we have been forced into the high tech world (the high tech world of 2003, that is). We each have a mobile phone – Will’s even takes pictures! We send each other text messages and actually use the features of our phones. It’s crazy.

The other high tech addition to our lives is the Digital Video Recorder (DVR) that came with our satellite. While most of our friends had DVRs or TiVo for years, we resisted. We like video tapes, we would reply when asked about what we had. They are more flexible and we like recording things on the VCR. Oh, how wrong we were. The DVR is wonderful. We can pause live TV. We can set up to record a series (say, the Sopranos) and we can know that we’ll never miss a show.

The other thing that the DVR has allowed us to do is to explore certain historical television programs, like Dallas. One of our stations is showing the series Dallas, in order, from the beginning. We’re learning all about 1978 hairstyles and fashions while we watch the Ewings and the Barnes battle it out over the OLM (that’s the Office of Land Management, in case you were wondering).

13 June 2007

Reflections on 8 days of sun

I did a fair amount of research over the 8 days of sun that ended today, and I came to a conclusion. When the sun is out in Dublin, it is at least as strong as the sun in Gurnee in mid-May. It is more than strong enough to bask in a sunny spot, even late in the day.

This was a subject of some speculation before I left the lower latitudes of Chicagoland (42° N), Pennsylvania (40° N), New Jersey and NYC (40° N). At that time, Anita was sending messages that vividly portrayed a dim sun that rarely penetrated thick clouds. To reassure myself, I thought, “Surely Dublin is no higher than the UP — and people sunbathe there, right?” Then I actually checked:

Michigan’s UP: 46° N
Dublin: 53° N
Eek!

Is this one of the many things that cannot be conveyed by reading and research about a place? I couldn’t trust Irish sources, after all; “basking in the sun” might mean something very different to them.

10 June 2007

Sunny weather => narcissism

Filed under: mental state — Tags: , , , — Will @ 21:20

Dublin has seen almost seven days of sun — real sun, with no clouds to speak of. It’s crazy! I feel like the city has welcomed me personally. Anita and I have been soaking it up — walking in it,
biking in it, and sitting in big public parks. It’s like a dream. It’s also helping me transition to life here.

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