After a the short delay at the Atlanta airport we finally headed off to Dublin. For some reason the airplane ride wasn’t that bad. I was immediately greeted by Eduard who sat next to me. A very nice and entertaining, spanish/american. He gave me several tips including the ingenious idea of having flynn get me a vonage/lingo box and then I can make and receive calls from the US for very cheap. Eduard was a master architect and also a history buff, detailing to me cultural, economical, political and other info about Ireland and Spain. Made for an interesting flight, so interesting i couldn’t even stop to watch Mission Impossible III. I’m sure i missed nothing.
Once at the airport, Eduard and I exchanged business cards and said goodbye/good luck. Then off to meet Treasa and finally finding out how to pronounce her name (which i was wrong with both assumptions). She knew of my late arrival but had no idea it was because of thunder, unknown to me, there were major bomb threats in London and most airports were shut down. Treasa took me for a quick look around the city and then to 138 Oxmantown Road, my new home. After a cup of coffee i settled in for a 5 hour nap.
The house is nice, very small more of an apartment/townhouse. It is in a neighborhood that is just rows and rows of brick houses, each with a different colored door. Our kitchen is very nice, but it appears that the person who remodeled was a giant, most counters come about to my chest and we have to use a stool to get into most cupboards. The living room is good sized, both bedrooms are upstairs, also good sized. Every room has a fireplace, but only the one downstairs is ever used. A coal man comes around the neighborhood once every other week, more often in the winter. The shower is great, or maybe just because it felt so nice to take one after such a long trip.
Around 6pm I called Treasa, who came and picked me up and we met up with her husband, Jess (my new roommate) and a few of their friends at a gallery opening. Then off to dinner for my first authentic Irish dinner…we had Italian. Pizza for me, just like Italy again, the staff kept breaking out into song every half hour or so. After our table had split a few bottles of wine I could barely keep my eyes open. We headed back home around 11pm. Once at home Jess and I had our first real combination. Her english is much better with me than with the Irish because it is hard for her to understand the Irish accents. It’s hard for me to understand the accents, I can only imagine how hard it is for her.
Pictures to come…
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