Back in Ireland: family and friends

I've been so lucky to get to spend so much time in Ireland this year. I just spent three weeks at home, and had so many catch ups with old friends (some visiting from literally the other side of the world), and lots of special family events.

I'm determined to make more of an effort to be present at special events; I've been away for too long.

Lately

Life, as always, is busy. Fieldwork and teaching obligations are going very well. I'm coming to the end of my tutoring for the year, and am unsure if I'll keep it up next year (as it's very time consuming). I'll be sad when I finish up with my fieldwork as I've met so many wonderful people, but at the same time, I am keenly aware of how much data will need to be analysed by May (when it will be 12 months since I began).

I am going back and forth to Ireland more and more these days, as Leo is there working and we find that life is nicer when we see each other a lot. So I've been going over some weekends, and he comes here some weekends, and it's generally lovely. 

On Saturday we got up really early and did a tidy out of the bits and pieces of life, then we met my aunt and uncle at Avoca and went to a garden centre where we got lots and lots of plants. I also voted in our General Election, and we spent the entire weekend with the radio on listening to the results.

It is so nice to be home. To feel a part of where you are. To feel like you have something in common with the people around you. They are more like you than anyone else in the world. 

In other news: I go to the gym a lot more and lift weights, and I finally got some whistles that don't just play D and G Major (although the low whistle does).

Under the weather

It's been raining non stop for days. That is no exaggeration. Since I've been spending so much time traipsing around Dublin with a backpack, sitting on buses and getting rained on, it was inevitable that I would develop a cold. When Leo and I lived in London a couple of years ago, we shared a flat with an old Pakistani lady named Jamal. Among other things, she taught me a great trick: when you have a cold, a spoonful of honey with turmeric mixed into it is better than any pharmace-purchased cough medicine. 

So I took one of those, drinking lots of tea with honey, and hot water with lemon and honey. I have no doubt that I'll be cured in no time :)

Easter in Ireland

Easter was spent in Ireland, seeing friends, driving my mom's car, spending time with family, and exploring Wicklow with Leo. There was even an ordinate amount of sunshine and drive-in Bingo! Aside from the crappiness of Irish public transport and the intent with which car rental companies in Dublin airport would like to rip you off, it was the ideal trip. 

Can't wait to go home again next month, when I'll vote in the referendum for marriage equality. 

home thoughts from abroad (remix)

I don't write here much, and it's very late now and I should probably sleeping, but some thoughts have been crossing my mind, so please allow me a moment or two to indulge myself. I was having an introductory conversation with someone tonight, and he seemed surprised that I, to his mind, had already 'written off' where I am now as an option for life, work, and all that, after my PhD is finished. The truth is, he misunderstood me. I haven't written anything off, because 'here' was never an option. What I want, most of all, is simply to go home.

It's been five years since I emigrated. London, Copenhagen, and now Durham. My life now is a mis-mash of a Danish-UK world, long train rides to airports in other parts of the country to take advantage of the cheap airfares, to spend stolen weekends and weeks with the one I love. I have three bank cards, three sim cards, a handful of random coins in my purse. I miss my home, my real home, so much. It's not that I am idealising a romantic idea of how great it must be, because I know the reality is a political and economic and social situation that is not entirely satisfactory for me, a life with which I might find much lacking. But, the countryside is still beautiful, the cities superb, the butter and milk delicious, and the people good at small-talk. 

I am so close to home; social media means I can stay in constant touch with my dearest ones, but the truth is that, after half a decade, it just doesn't feel the same anymore. I've missed so many birthdays and celebrations, and I really just want to be in a town where everyone has the same slang, where the music is played fast and mercilessly at the local pub session, where we have a common understanding of where we've come from, where we're going. It's not that where I am now is a million miles away, but sometimes the closer you are, the farther you feel. 

What really prompted this was reading Garrison Keillor's beautifully crafted tale of life in Copenhagen, as a foreigner. He is a creative hero of mine, and I find his descriptions of the peace and tranquility he finds in Copenhagen comforting and sad at the same time. I know all the feelings, these feelings are my own. But I feel sad because I know Copenhagen will never be mine, never be ours. We can live there, have a CPR number, an apartment, pay our taxes and use the bike lanes, but home is something else entirely, and I can't wait to get back to it. Can't wait for that part of life to really start, at last. 

it's good to be home from time to time

I had 5 whole days in Ireland, just the right amount of time, although as soon as I start to settle in to Ireland's charming and often frank ways it's time to move on again, and I'm left feeling a bit deflated and sad. I love my home so much, and look forward with immense excitement to returning permanently (maybe?!) in about 3 years time. In the meantime, these little visits will have to suffice. 

My trip was a healthy mix of family time, making up elaborate games about Star Wars and Ninja Squirrels (not my idea) with my nephew, sleep overs with friends, cake eating, and lots and lots of chatting. It was perfect. And the delicious weather only made things sweeter. I just wish I could have frozen time and kept it going for ever.

A little nighttime football. I learned to do a header!!

All my childhood/teen diaries

Henrietta Street, a famous row of old tenements, mention in Joyce's Dubliner's (which I just finished reading!)

A long walk from town to Stonybatter for cake, and a stroll around the surrounding areas led to some classic Dublin sights, like these rows of ex-council houses. The north side of the city will forever be my favourite.

 

I love reliving old experiences when I'm home; a trip on the DART, meeting my childhood and school friends, going to my favourite spots like Bewleys, but I also love discovering new things, new coffee shops that are fantastic, driving around town which is completely new to me, all the experiences, smells, memories, tastes and sights mingle in my brain and leave me feeling a bit sad as I walk through the familiar sights of Dublin Airport (although a lot has changed there since the 90s and seeing my dad off on long business trips, or going for a nighttime drive to see the Christmas lights).

I long for the day when I call Dublin, or Meath, or Cork, or wherever I end up, my home. To be among familiar faces, banter on buses, fall into familiar slang, all the things that feel so natural that I left behind for so long. I'm basically ready to go back. I just have some things to take care of first :) Namely, the small business of a PhD must be attended to. But really, a mere bagatelle.

4 planes, 3 currencies & 3 sim cards

Last week was pretty hectic, as hectic weeks go. I had 4 days on the go at my housekeeping job, which is fairly tiring by anyone's standards. I'd finish each day absolutely covered in sweat from head to toe (it is very humid in Copenhagen these days, time pressures of the job and the non-breathable uniform aside), cycle the 8km home and basically sit in a vegetative state until I recovered the use of my limbs. The week stretched out in front of me with promise, and would include 4 flights, a trip to Durham to meet those working on my study and my future colleagues, and a trip home to Ireland to see the family, all my friends, and enjoy being back in Meath and Dublin again.

On Tuesday, I hurried to get finished with my work, raced home to get my stuff ready, then headed on over to the lovely CPH Lufthavn for my first of two BA flights of the evening. I was fairly excited to fly with British Airways because they still give out free snacks, and there ain't no snack like a free snack. I had a pretty miserable ham and cheese sandwich on stodgy flatbread and coffee, along with a cookie I brought myself in case BA did not bring their snack A-game.

This shocking sight greeted me, but luckily the weather in Durham was more to my liking. Sunshine, a cool breeze, all the things you don't expect when visiting the north of England. 

The 2 days in Durham were absolutely fantastic. My future colleagues are all incredibly focused, kind, and regard work-life balance as of the utmost importance, which is a huge deal for me (living in Denmark, you come to expect it, and having lived in London, know how sacred it really is). 

There was much coffee drinking, meeting and greeting, and fascinating discussions about the work to come and work those in the department have been involved in. I'm really excited to sink my teeth into PhD life in a couple of months! In case you needed photographic proof that Durham is beautiful, I have included some snippets as evidence.

I stayed at the Premier Inn in town, they were so full of northern charm, caring and friendly, such a shock to the system. Danes are incredibly polite, but this is a whole other ballgame. After a few hours of walking around the town, and a surprisingly emotional visit to the Cathedral (along with a scone and a lot of whipped cream and jam), I headed to Newcastle airport to get on the world's tiniest plane home to my family. I had the good fortune to sit next to an academic from Cork who gave me so much good advice on my PhD. It pays to chat to those sitting next to you!

 

And then before I knew it I was home to this little fellah, buckets of tea and as many free range eggs as I could muster (and I mustered a great deal). I'll make another post about my trip to Ireland, because I think this is quite long enough! Suffice to say: British Airways food-pretty bad. Durham-beautiful. Shifting from Kroner to Pounds to Euro and back to Kroner- mildly confusing. Life-very excited.

some irish things on a friday

I am having a truly Irish morning. I've just finished making the most amazing smelling soda bread from this recipe. The recipe called for some kneading, and let me tell you, kneading bread is a wonderful, stress-relieving exercise. I recommend it to all.

While in the mood of all things Irish, I've been listening to Luke Kelly. His voice will reduce you to wobbly child tears if you're not very careful.

Did you know, you cut open the top of the bread before baking so the fairies (that help the bread to rise, naturally) can escape and go help someone else? The more you know!

And finally, without getting too political, this beautiful Yeats poem.

Yeats is one of my favourite poets, as I'm sure is true of many. Just a few lines:

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.

Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born. 

And just to lighten the tone, 12 buns a cooling, ready to be iced later (with tea as dye for the raspberry flavoured ones!).

A little feel of Denmark from a legend

I have been a huge fan of A Prairie Home Companion since childhood. The radio show was played on Saturday mornings on an Irish station, and my dad and I would listen, laugh, and sing along as I went about my Saturday extra curriculars; first gymnastics, then on to drama and ballet (I was a busy child). Garrison Keillor's warm voice is reminiscent for me of the safety net of childhood, of car rides on Saturdays, of that pre-adolescent security, when the world briefly made sense.

I had a Canadian guest staying last week, and we were pleasantly surprised to find out we were both familiar with the wonderful world of Lake Woebegone, 'where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average."

Even better than that, he told me about an excellent article written by Garrison Keillor from National Geographic, available on his website here. The article itself is from 1998, but all of his comments about Copenhagen and Denmark more generally are still so relevant. A wonderful, heartfelt piece of writing by someone who really understands and admires Denmark, which is funny and eternally true for a foreigner living here.

Please read it, I cannot recommend it enough! It may even bring a tear to your eye, if you are one who is as sentimental as I am.

While you're at it, if you're not familiar with A Prairie Home Companion, spend some time on the website listening to stories and songs about "the little town that time forgot, and the decades cannot improve."  The humour and sensibilities of a fake Midwestern town have never been so entertaining.

• Garrison Keillor National Geographic Article
• A Prairie Home Companion Website
• The Wiki about the show

a long break

I haven't written anything substantial in a long time, this is true. However, I have a legitimate reason! The sunshine, Easter holidays, a trip to an organic pig farm and a whole lot of flute playing. All this stuff kind of got in the way.

I've been getting back into trad music, so for the first time in a  long time (really, about a decade) I'm playing at sessions and practicing a lot in my free time, trying to expand my repertoire. A trad musician is only as good as his repertoire, and, while my technical skills are pretty good (an outstanding teacher in the form of a neighbour who happens to be an internationally renowned Irish musician), boy have I missed out on ten years of tune accumulation. And it shows. I'm there rocking all the tunes of days gone by, many of which were not even popular in Ireland, let alone Denmark, and folk music does in fact evolve, however slightly.

But I'm trying my best, stealthily recording as many tunes as I can to greedily devour later. My trust flute, absolutely rudimentary in design, sounds as beautiful and reliable as it did when it was purchased for me age 12/13. It's still as sleek and black, the tone still as consistent, and I'm still unable to deviate from G and D Major without some serious finger bending.

Music is a fantastic thing. And playing the music yourself really heightens already thriving emotions. I've been so happy since I started going to a pub on a Friday evening, to have endless bottles of Coke poured into me and play the tunes of my youth.

 

I don't actually own this photo, it belongs to Martin, a wonderful man from Northern Ireland that places an impressive range of percussive instruments. Needless to say I'm the only female in the shot, with flute in hand.

I'll write a bit more on the last couple of weeks shortly, but for now it's off to the local Kommune to register to vote in May (grumble grumble Representative Democracy is inadequate grumble), and then it's back to Danish class. I think I have forgotten all my Danish words.

Have a great day, internet!

april is here

It's time for planning, writing applications, searching for jobs, learning Danish, rearranging the furniture, impromptu trips, and life-changing decisions.

Come one, come all!

I wish there were more hours in the day.

Pancake Tuesday

 

So we had a few friends over on tuesday night for pancakes and sweet potato chips and breakfast tea.

Then, on Wednesday morning I did it all over again, for one. I have 4 delicious pancakes with a variety of fillings, including homemade apple sauce and creme fraiche, and Nutella. And it was good. Very good. Maybe I'll make pancakes this weekend!

it's almost pancake tuesday

It's a long time since I called myself a Catholic (another story for another day), but Pancake Tuesday is one of the vestiges of my youth I'll be holding onto. Ireland in the 90s was a fairly simple place, and when we were kids it was a bottle of pre-made pancake mix from Super Valu and unholy quantities of sugar and lemon juice in this pre-Lenten ritual.

In school we'd make pancakes occasionally, and later on as a waitress in college, the chef would always make sure we got a feed of about 7 pancakes before our shift began. Simpler times. These days my tastes are a bit more refined, but for all intensive purposes Pancake Tuesday exists solely to make an absolute pig of oneself. We've invited a fellow Irish woman over for the festivities, and I'm drooling over Pinterest images in anticipation.

Where Am I Now?

Well, after months of being in-between places,  I can now safely say that I'm definitely in Denmark again. I think. Actually, I'm going back to Ireland tomorrow, but that's merely a short sojourn.

I arrived on Friday last week, and on Saturday Leo and I packed up everything, called a moving guy (who was a very cool person, it has to be said) and moved on over to Kastrup. Kastrup is decidedly less cool than Frederiksberg. If Frederiksberg is a hip and painfully stylish 20 something sibling, Kastrup is the older brother in his 40s that is a mechanic. Honestly, though, I love it. We're close to the Metro but you can still cycle into town if you want, we're beside a nice Marina and a beach, and it's quiet and colloquial here. Just what I want.

I've spent this morning trying to register a domain name, doing laundry, and painting the hall. That's not too shabby, is it? This evening I shall go to Magasin, the big department store at Kongens Nytorv, and fantasise about all the household items I would purchase if I was a secret millionaire. Nah, really we have to exchange some plates.

First time having tacos. They were disgusting. Bonus: made delicious salsa!

This is what the living room looks like when it's messy.

Beautiful Le Creuset baby is all mine.

'Not as good as Barry's'

Having snacks downstairs in Magasin makes me feel fancy/affluent.

Some market research for my Dad. Don't ask. He works in Eggs.

A plethora of milks

So there you have it, a collection of arbitrary images tenuously linked to my first full week back in Denmark. Next week I'll be back in Ireland for most of it, while I tie up loose ends. Then it's back for painting and maybe setting up a business or two. Oh, and attempting to learn to speak this blasted language.

Vi ses!