Good Craic

Hard to believe it, but we have been in Galway for a week already! The days are beginning to slow, now, and the realization that this is our home for the next five months is beginning to settle in. I feel a little bit more like myself, like I'm walking around in my own shoes instead of someone else's... which is both a good and bad thing. Good, because I'm beginning to actually open the mountain of emails in my inbox and do things like trim my toenails and organize my underwear drawer. Bad, because my shoes are rainboots, and they hurt my feet.

I attempted to wear said boots to a club on Saturday night, which I heard was going to be a "down" night because most of the Irish weren't back in town yet. Being the silly American that I am, I pictured a down night as something involving bunny slippers and a carton of ice cream; but to the Irish, it translates to a night when the clubs--still packed--are at less than maximum capacity. We began the night at the Crane Bar, a beautiful little pub right on the water, where the most incredible 13 piece trad music group was playing. I sat in a little corner booth by the window, warm even despite the chilly air that was coming through the windows, and absorbed the music with my whole heart. Words can't describe just how full it makes me feel... there is just something about it. Fiddle, bodhran, uilleann pipes, harmonica, banjo, and haunting vocals that fill the entire pub. I LOVE the sound of the Irish language when sung...so much so that I'm kidding myself into thinking that my beginning Irish language course (aka Irish for international dummies) is going to be anything less than a complete disaster. Apparently it's not enough that I'm in a foreign country, trying to adapt to the pace of everyday life and manage to cross the street without getting creamed by an oncoming vehicle (yep, they come from the opposite direction, and no, I can't seem to remember)... I also have to spend two hours a week attempting to learn a non-Latin based language that sounds like it came out of Lord of the Rings. But it's so preeeeettttty.

Anyhow, after the Crane, it was off to the Roisin Dubh... a pub/nightclub that manages to maintain the atmosphere of both, and therefore top on my list. The actual nightclubs themselves give me a headache; they are noisy and scary and so opposite of everything that I am used to. Although exhilarating, they usually make me want to curl up in a corner and suck my thumb. The Roisin is great because it has a dance floor and sitting floor, and plays ridiculous music that you'd never hear in a U.S. nightclub. Instead of pretentious house music or one more mashup of Daft Punk and [insert top-40 artist here], they play everything from Talking Heads to Buddy Holly to Red Hot Chili Peppers. It's a hoot. Rain boots and all--and with approximately 6 more feet of fabric on my clothing than the average Irish girl--I bounced and swung and boogied with the best of them. Actually, I looked ridiculous most of the time. Those of us who are American stick out like sore thumbs--or judging by the reactions of some of the Irish, like funny looking plants that must be investigated at the soonest possible moment--but we're lucky enough to be living with Irish students, and so far, they have made sure we feel comfortable.

Have I mentioned I love my roommates? I do. There is Maggie, who shares my actual room--she's from Pennsylvania--and between the two of us, there's always something cooking in our kitchen. I'm beginning to realize more and more just how unusual this is. It's not only the Americans who seem to be in awe of our ability to boil water (Erin, Ellie, are you reading this? No more cucumbers for dinner, my darlings...), but our Irish roommates seem to be genuinely confused by our desire to eat meals.

You see, the Irish spend money on beer. Occasionally, I see one eating a pizza or piece of toast... but in general, it's only seen as a distraction from the main course: beer. Needless to say, this is not--and probably never will be--something I'm able to do. I'm a cereal and milk kind of girl. My bookshelf is stacked with bags of dried figs, Barry's tea, soda bread, apples, bananas, and boxes of Mediterranean spices to add to couscous and hummus. When Maggie and I made tacos last night (Taco Tuesday lives on! Although a word to the wise, Mexican food from Irish ingredients makes Taco Bell seem authentic), our roommates got all bug-eyed and kept asking us what everything was. It was adorable.

Maggie and I keep thanking our luck stars for our roommates. They are WONDERFUL--friendly, approachable, silly. There's Andrew Higgins ("Higgy," also known as the potential burglar, also known as Freddy Krueger...also known as one of the least potential criminals in the world,) Owen Lyons (aka Lyoner, who has a weakness for American reality TV. Do you know what happened on Teen Mom last season, or perhaps The Hills? Let's just say...I DO), and Conor Grubb (aka Grubb, aka the Ginger, and one of the funniest people I have met). There's also Colm McGinley and Colm Ferry, who don't technically live here, but might as well. I hope none of them read this blog, because I have butchered their names by using English spelling... but as I mentioned earlier, the Irish language still looks like a well-thought out assortment of hieroglyphics to me.

They are a hilarious bunch. Who knew that one could play FIFA for nine hours straight? Who knew that one could watch 5 American movies in a row without totally going bonkers, and without leaving the couch? Who knew that playing football in the house was so fun, even at the expense of all home appliances? (When asked why we don't have lampshades, McGinley answered quite simply that they were too dangerous during indoor football games. Guess that explains the blood on the ceiling.)

It's rainy, drippy, and grey here, and I'm beginning to miss home a lot... but at the same time, I couldn't be happier. I'm out of sorts, like a fish out of water, or some sort of tiny land mammal stuck in freezing cold water... but I can feel my life expanding.

A quick vocabulary lesson:

Craic = a catchall term for cool, hip, rad, whatever... basically, if something is awesome, it is good craic.
Shift = make out. To "shift and drift" is to kiss someone on the dance floor, and then move on to someone else...usually within a four foot radius. A common pastime of the Irish.
Timetable = schedule
Thanks a million = standard way to say thank you, for anything from holding the door to the bathroom or donating a kidney.
Cheers = hello, goodbye, nice to meet you, thank you, whatever. Similar to Aloha, only better, because is often accompanied by a toothless smile and a little jig.

Cheers.