Call Mom and take her shopping today
| Thursday, Feb 09 2006 04:16 PM
Last Updated Saturday, Mar 28 2009 12:25 PM
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I am a born-and-raised Bakersfield girl who is now living in Ireland. How this came about is both complicated and quite simple: Good old-fashioned love.
The simple part is that I came over to Belfast to attend a wedding and my travels around Ireland brought me to Killarney, County Kerry, where I fell in love. It was a quick, exciting, efficient falling in love. We're talking textbook holiday romance.
But how that translated into ending up married to this holiday romance is where it gets complicated. A nice kind of complicated, though.
It was a sort of half-accident, half completely calculated (the way only women can calculate) sort of situation. I was speaking to another American recently and upon telling her the story of how I met and married Ruairi (that's him it's an Irish name pronounced almost like "Rory.") She was overcome by the romance of it.
She exclaimed: "You're living the dream! That's the dream! To meet and marry someone from another country!"
The dream? Am I living "The Dream?"
Living in another country has been incredibly exciting, challenging, frustrating, maddening and life-changing in every way. If I had a chance to do it over again, I honestly can't say what I would do. But a big part of me would give anything to be shopping this afternoon with my cousin and grandma in Rosedale, maybe checking out a few model homes, and meeting my mom for lunch. These are things that simply cannot happen here.
As I sit here looking out on the beautiful lakes of Killarney, I just can't put my finger on how big that part of me is. Seventy percent? Yes, that's my answer for today. Ask me tomorrow and I might be pining away for chips and salsa or my little brother and the percentage could skyrocket to nearly 95 percent, even 97 (gasp!).
But then, catch me on a night in a warm pub with a fire blazing and a hot port in hand, and maybe we'd get down to, oh, a 60 percent. The only time it might dip under that 60 percent is when I'm boarding a $30 hour-and-a-half-long flight into Paris or Amsterdam. I know- it sounds shallow, but it's the truth. Cheap European travel rocks.
Sometimes the differences between the cultures, large and small, can be hilarious. Other times, they can be annoying or even baffling. I've got a million examples, but here's some that come to mind:
In Ireland, a mound of earth creating a sort of border or fence is called a ditch. What is a ditch called then? A dike. But if something is growing on or is otherwise on the "ditch," it is referred to as being "in the ditch." That is, not "on" the ditch.
Oh, and on the whole the Irish don't like peanut butter. You'll only find it in big stores or specialty shops and it's labeled "American Peanut Butter" or "Hollywood Peanut Butter."
A sedan is called a saloon. A station wagon is called an estate. A car, even the tiniest of cars, say, a Ford Fiesta, which did not have it's back windows installed is called a van. A Mitsubishi Mirage is considered a large car. A Toyota Camry is considered a huge car a car for the big man. Your blinker is called your indicator. The trunk is the boot and the hood is the bonnet (that one strikes me as particularly stupid sounding.)
Sometimes things originating in the U.S. are regionalized for here, and there is one that stands out as being particularly funny albeit obscure. Does anyone remember the movie "Encino Man?" Here, the movie was called "California Man," because, like, who is going to understand what "Encino Man" refers to?
If an Irish person goes out to dinner, and they have a horrible time, for example if the service is poor, the food cold and the atmosphere bright and uncomfortable, they might discuss it between themselves throughout the whole dinner. However, when they are leaving and the waitress asks them how everything was and if they enjoyed themselves, their answer will be an exuberant: "Oh yes, 'twas lovely! 'Twas just beautiful!" Only they don't just say "beautiful", the hold the "u" to emphasize: "beauuuutiful!" Why don't they say something to the person who can do something about it? They are barely out the door when they begin telling anyone who will listen about their bad experience. This is so un-American!
But, alas, I guess that's what living in another country is. I like our way better: You say what you need to say to the person who needs to hear it. But, for our honest, direct attitude, we are considered to be abrupt and rude here.
I am building a house in Ireland. Let me just say, first, that if you think it takes a long time for a house to go up in Bakersfield, think again. It takes an average house 13 months to be built here. Add to that planning time which averages six months and you're looking at close to two years.
Try to find an architect who will work I mean, actually work. For three months I waited while my architect attempted to find the time to turn the house that I gave to him completed, on paper, to scale, into a legal house to apply for planning. Every week, he told me to call back Tuesday. I nicknamed him Wimpy. I ended up giving up and getting a younger, hungrier (and cuter) architect.
Have you ever felt frustrated with wanting your escrow to close? Oh-ho! Here it takes up to 30 days to just begin correspondence between attorneys, which is a necessity. Most people wait a good three to six months for escrow to close, just waiting for a key. I agreed on the purchase price for the plot (here called the "site") for my house in February 2003. It took a year before the drywall was put in.
I know that the Irish are reputed as being very friendly. After living in Ireland for almost five years, I am here to report: The Irish aren't so much friendly. They're nosy. The next time you or someone you know is traveling to Ireland and having a friendly chat with the Irish, try turning some of the good-natured questions they bat at you back on them. It's not easy. These Irish are slippery. But if you manage, they'll clam up faster that you can believe.
I'll tell you who are friendly: Americans. Americans are some of the friendliest people I have come across. I come home about once or twice a year. I am always so shocked when I arrive at the level of friendly service that you get there. Honestly shocked at such things as eye contact, smiles, sincere inquiries.
Americans are generally polite, with an open curiosity. Irish, on the whole, see us "Yanks" as we're called here as loud and obnoxious. I see us as expressive, heartfelt people who are not afraid to say what they think.
The more I am away, the more I am convinced: Americans are a special people. There is a reason, besides capitalism, that we innovate and achieve so much. It's because we are open-minded, wide-eyed and curious. I hope, in this ever-increasing global village, that we retain that special something that makes us unique.
So there you have it. I guess that means that more than half of me wishes I hadn't done this crazy thing. But that sounds so harsh, and after all, it's just life this is living.
I can only say that if you have the luxury of being able to simply pick up the phone, make a quick call, and meet your Mom for lunch, do it today.
Sidney Pogatchnik grew up in Bakersfield and lives in Killarney, Ireland.
