Hi,

Welcome to the second installment of Letters From a Foreign Country.  We are actually really getting settled.  In many ways it feels like less of a foreign country and in some ways more so.

We got a car yesterday.  A mint green Fiat Punto.   (Hey, Di, I’m driving a Fiat!).  And I actually did drive it today.  Getting a car seemed quite more the ordeal than we anticipated.  It was difficult finding anyone to even talk to us about insurance for less than a year.  And even then, more difficult getting them to ring us back.  (More on that later).  We thought at first that we would try to buy a 10 year old or so car and then sell it back.  There are plenty of used cars on the market.  It seems everyone is buying new.  The license plates in Ireland actually give you lots of information.  Our plate, for instance is 00-D-82744.  Which apparently means it is a 2000 car (hence the 00), registered in Dublin (D, Limerick cars are either LK or L, not sure why the 2 choices), and presumably the last digits indicate how many cars have been registered so far.  Anyway, Mark sat at the bus stop one day, and determined the average year of the cars that passed as being about 1998.  So we got to thinking that sure we could buy a 10 year old car cheap but what happens in January when we want to leave and must sell it.  And how early do you start advertising?  And what if it sells a month before you need to leave?  And then you’re looking at renting a car for 3 or 4 weeks anyway before you leave. And what if it has mechanical difficulties?  OK, so we’re going to lease.  It will cost a bit more but seems like the right decision.

A colleague at UL had given Mark a name to call, Rory.  So he did.   The cost was IR L (imagine that L is a pound sign) 695.  Surely we must be able to do better.  So I began calling rental agencies.  I called one.  Guess who I spoke with.  Rory.  He said I think I talked to your husband yesterday.  Oh, I’m so sorry.  I got your number from someone else and it was not the same number Mark had for you ? so sorry to disturb you.  So I call a few more.  Call another.  Let me let you talk to our long-term rental specialist.  My buddy Rory comes on the line (unbeknownst to me).  I describe what I want.  He says I think I talked to you earlier.  Oh, I’m so sorry.  Again I called a different number and got connected to you. I’m so sorry I disturbed you again.   He said, again, no problem.  The moral of the story, much as all roads lead to Rome, all numbers lead to Rory.

So, back to the telephone.  Mark called to get us a phone.  They gave him a number and said it would be hooked up that day (last Thursday, I believe.)  So I went to the mall (about the sort of mall one might expect in, oh I don’t know, say Ephrata) and bought a phone.  Well, the phone didn’t work that day, nor the next.  So Mark called again, and they said, no, that number won’t work, use this number.    OK.  So we called a few folks back home.  Reached some and left messages for others.  The message people never called back.  (How dare you, Sue!)  Mark also called a colleague about a car, and a few insurance agencies as well.  No one would call us back.  How very rude.  So, perhaps Tuesday night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I just had a thought…   Wednesday morning I got up and looked at the phone, and sure enough, the ringer was turned off.  No wonder no one called.  But we’re up and running with the technology now.

Another phone story.  You can see that the phone numbers don’t look much like phone numbers.  I was trying to call a uniform shop to see if the kids’ track suits (basically a pricy sweatsuit with the school crest on it, to be worn on PE days for Emm and Garth and every day for Melinda) had arrived.  The girl from the shop where we ordered them had given me a cash register receipt with the phone number on it.  So I dialed it ? 30 08 00.  I got someone’s answering machine (a rarity in these parts) and left a message, but it didn’t sound much like a shop.  So I looked at the receipt again and realized I had dialed the date!  Well the dates don’t look like dates any more than the phone numbers look like phone numbers!

So, we’re driving.  We have made some interesting observations on the way your body interacts with your brain to learn things.  For instance, yesterday  we got in the car, Mark in the driver’s seat, me in the passenger seat and Melinda directly behind me.  In our car in Seattle, she also sits in the left rear seat.  Anyway, she looked at Mark with a steering wheel in front of him and said "Why does this car have 2 steering wheels?"  Think about it…

I was not brave enough to drive in the rain, on the left, with a stick shift yesterday, but I managed it this morning.  I sat down in the driver’s seat, and looked for the seat-belt over my left shoulder.  Surprise, surprise, it wasn’t there.  The key is on the normal (right) side of the steering column.  But trying to downshift, I find still I grip the wheel with my left hand, releasing my right hand to downshift.  It’s a long way over to the stick-shift with your right hand!  And trying to find the rear-view mirror!  Of course it’s in the center of the windscreen (like that fancy Irish talk!) but my brain still thinks the center is to my right. I think the worst part is not so much remembering to stay to the left, it’s figuring out where you are in relation to the center.  I guess by the end of February I’ll have adjustment problems in Seattle.

I hope I’m not boring you with Irish anecdotes but the readjustment process is, I find, quite interesting.  And as they say, if you no longer desire to receive e-mail from this list, please reply to this message with "Unsubscribe" in the subject line.  Ha ha.

So, let me tell you about the Irish phone book.  In those ever-so-helpful pages in the front of every book there is a section on how to make an international call.  They list country codes for all over the world, including the US.  In addition for the US they list area codes for selected cities.  Let me provide you with the list.  Albuquerque, Atlanta, Atlantic City, Augusta (G), Austin (TX), Baltimore, Baton Rouge, Boston, Buffalo (NY), Burbank (CA), Burbank (Ill), Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland (Ohio), Colorado Springs, Columbia (S. Car), Columbus (Ohio), Corpus Christi, Dallas, Denver, Des Moines, Detroit, Fort Lauderdale, Fort Worth, Galveston, Hartford, Hollywood (Ca), Honolulu, Houston, Indianapolis, Jackson (Miss), Jersey City, Kansas City, Kansas (Mo), Las Vegas (Nev) Minneapolis, Mobile, Nashville, Newark (NJ) (by the way, Mark thinks I’m nuts for typing this whole list, but I find it represents quite a different view of the US.   Let’s take a poll, who thinks I’m nuts?) New Orleans, New York City ? (Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island), Oklahoma City, Omaha (Neb), Orlando, Pasadena (Ca), Pasadena (Tx), Philadelphia, Phoenix, Pittsburgh (PA), Portland (Oregon), Providence, Richmond (Vir.), Sacramento, St. Louis, St. Paul, Salt Lake City.  Call me provincial, but Mobile?  Has no one heard of, oh, I don’t know, San Francisco?  And Burbank, Ill?  I’ve lived 40 years in the US and never heard of Burbank, Ill., but they can’t even get Seattle in the phone book?  It’s a lucky thing I have an exceptional memory for area codes, otherwise I should be quite lost.

I went to the library at UL today to check on my e-mail.  We don’t have internet access at home, so I have been writing these letters on the new lap-top and taking them on disk to mail them.  But today I checked my e-mail on the  library computer at UL.  It is interesting to see the keyboard.  It has a few extra keys.  As I recall there is an extra key just to the left of the return key.  The " is someplace different as is the @.  There is a pound sign (monetary) which doesn’t even exist on the laptop to show you.  I can touch-type most of the letters but I must hunt and peck for the symbols.  While I was there I was delighted to find via the SeattleTimes.com website that my boys are up 2 games over Oakland and plan on playing "like Little Leaguers" from here on out.  Let’s hope they have many games left to play!

I will close with some observations on Irish grocery stores.  First the checkers sit down.  Fancy that.  They never heard of jumbo size, much less large.  The peanut butter here is 340 grams (about the size of that tiny jar of mayonaise in the grocery stores back home).  For mayo, we can get the jar about double that size.  Laundry detergent comes in a box of about 10 loads.  But bread is wonderful.  Sliced bread in the grocery store is probably better than half the price in Seattle.  And you can get wonderful baguettes and croissants for mere pence.  Cheese is also quite plentiful, delicious, and delightfully affordable.  You will not see a gallon of milk.  2 litre containers are available in Whole and low fat, but Skim milk is only available by the Litre.

OK, I’m not ready to close yet.  Let me tell you about the kids.  They are doing great.  When we arrived, Melinda was put into Junior infants, Emmeline in First Class and Garth in 4th Class.  When I bought books, particularly for Emm I was a bit concerned about this.  She did not stumble over the last page of any of the books.  But, as I mentioned in my last e-mail, the principal is quite the steam-roller and she just forges on ahead.  Well, she called yesterday after school and said that she had been in Emmeline’s class and "She’s quite the good reader, isn’t she and a very nice girl."  Well, the upshot is that she thought Emm should be moved up to 2nd class.  She offered to buy back Emm’s first class books (which was nice) so today Emm started second class.  She seemed much happier after school today and has made some friends already in class.  Garth has made one friend in class so far.  Also they have made friends with 2 boys who live 2 doors down from us, though they attend a different school.  They have a common interest in Pokemon and are wheeling and dealing their way thru their card collections.

It is interesting to note that these boys who go to Milford school, were friends last year with an American Fulbright family from Southern California.  I began corresponding with Wendy Menefee-Libey, the wife of the Fulbrighter, this past spring, and I got so much out of her take on life in Limerick. Although I have never seen her,  nor heard her voice, I feel a definite kinship with her through accounts of each others experiences.  And now we are making friends with their friends.  Quite a chain.

Melinda is doing great in school.  We did not bring many toys with us but we did bring a set of magnetic letter she got for her birthday.  She can identify most every one, and is able to write some of them all by herself.  She can write "Hi" like nobody’s business.  I spoke with her teacher and she was quite pleased with how well she has settled in.

Melinda has also made a friend, Robert, and I as well, have made friends with his mother, Maura.  Very nice woman from Galway.  We have had tea at each others homes this week and it has been interesting to learn about Irish culture from her.  I learned all about Solicitors and Barristers today.  I am really starting to enjoy myself here, especially since I now have a bit of transportation and no longer feel like I am stuck in Lynnwood.
 
 

Talk to you later,
Love,
Mer
 

Well, this is my part->  I feel compelled to add something so that my presence will be of some use.  It may be a bit strained, though, as I have spent the last few hours reading "The Endurance: Shackelton’s Legendary Antarctic Expedition" by Caroline Alexander.  You will forgive me then, if my writing sounds like excerpts from the diaries of freezing men.

We have been frozen in the pack ice since January 18.  The wind has been constant and the temperatures are as cold as, … as, … well as something really cold.  We are drifting ever farther from our proposed destination and though the captain maintains the highest spirits, it is feared that soon we will be eating the sled dogs.

We did get a car, though, as Mary mentioned and driving on the left is not as bad as I had feared - not nearly as bad as having to club those penguins and drag them in off the ice for the cook.  I hate that.  I have had to get used to shifting with my left hand but I’m adjusting.  I got a phone in my office today!  I am still waiting for a computer and an Internet connection but all good things come to those who are willing to wait for a really long time.

I did have a nice looooong chat with a colleague today who has begun to hint that I may have some possible duties, maybe part of a seminar to teach if that might happen at some point perhaps.  It helps to get some certainty about these things.   Their model for teacher education is quite different from ours at Seattle University.  They recruit sailors from Buenos Aires, give them the promise of muklucks and hard tack, club ‘em like seals, and throw them in the fo’c’sle.  Later, when they wake up, they are made to teach 3rd graders in Ballybunion or Killkenny, a hard place to grow up if you happen to be named Kenny.
I am trying to figure out how I might contribute to this process.  All that stuff I know about PowerPoint and constructivism seems for naught in this frozen wasteland.

We are going to try to make use of our lime green Punto tomorrow and get the heck out of Dodge.  I think that we are headed for the Rock of Cashel.  That’s a huge and fabulously old castle about 40 or 50 miles away from here.  It has been in use since the 4th century, mostly by the Munster Kings and now by tourists.  Here’s a cool thing that happened there: St. Patrick was converting one of the clan kings to Christianity way back in the 5th century "in a ceremony in which he accidentally stabbed the king in the foot with his crozier.  Thinking this a painful initiation rite, the king bore this with fortitude."   I look forward with personal interest in seeing where this happened.  It’s good to think that way back then there were people who bore stuff with fortitude that way.  Come to think of it, they were probably better at bearing stuff with fortitude as there was a lot to bear - no computers and Internet connections in their offices, for example.  Mary says that we will make the kids wear their steel-toed boots in case of loose croziers.  They would rather stay home and play soccer in a nearby field and "Squirrel Kombat" on the laptop but we are going to force some culture on them just like our parents done to us, by gar.

On Sunday we are planning to go to the Craggaunowen Project ? sort of a reenactment thing where people dress up like miserable 5th century peasants and do peasant things for the enlightenment of those of us whose days are spent peering out of the ice encrusted portholes waiting for the ice, or the ship, to breakup.  Mary, the ship’s first (and only) mate will surely portray this in our next missive.  I am not sure, once she sees what I’ve done at the end of her work, though, whether I will be allowed to contribute again so I will type off now and return to my bunk where I will fall asleep, perchance to dream of the day when the Antarctic winter will relent and release her grim and icy grip on our Endurance….