Brilliant.

In two weeks of being a student of Irish people, Irish culture, and Irish cooking, I've decided it's a hundred small things that make Ireland so different from home rather than any one thing.

1. Nothing is ever really cold, except for the weather. Milk, yogurt, water .... all slightly above room temperature. American refrigerators are arctic blasts compared to anything here. And no one is ever concerned if milk or eggs get left out. Yet they rarely get sick. Makes me wonder what all the fuss is about back home.
2. Nothing is "awesome," it is "brilliant!" And the Irish don't thank you, they say "thanks a million!"
3. Pubs are for everyone. I haven't gotten IDed since passing through immigration. Children, the elderly, college students, parents, all hang out in pubs.
4. Speaking of pubs, pints are a great invention, and one I would like to bring back to Georgia. Forget red solo cups, having a pint of an Irish beer is where it's at. It's the perfect amount, and the pint glass is solid and sturdy, like it's encouraging you to drink out of it.
5. Also speaking of pubs, I finally discovered a true Irish, non-touristy pub and heard real Irish pub music! One person sits down with an instrument and plays an old Irish tune, and the next thing you know, four more have grabbed instruments (accordian, banjo, guitar, piccolo, and SPOONS! Yes, spoons.) and join in. They all know all the words. It's quite the change from the 23-year old who hasn't showered playing somewhere on Clayton Street.
6. It's a "mild" winter when it's in the 40s every day and raining. No less than 10 people have commented to me about how mild this winter has been, which is extremely terrifying to me as I've been frozen at least once a day since getting off the plane.
7. All "North Americans" are the same. Most can't tell the difference between me and my new Canadian friend.
8. They pronounce the second "T" in Atlanta. At-LAN-Ta. This took me a little while to realize. No one from Atlanta says all the letters. At-lannnna. Say it outloud. So when I would tell people where I was from, they would look at me with a blank stare (this happens to me a lot in Ireland. I've learned to speak more slowly). Then I have to say "You know, AT-LAN-TA." Then they say "Ohhhh! At-LAN-Ta, Georgia!" and start excitedly telling me about their trips to New York, Boston, and Chicago.Oh, well.
9. It's sort of like playing Russian Roulette when you take a shower in Ireland. The water may or may not match the temperature of the weather outside. I think this is what leads to all the drinking-- trying to forget your cold shower. :)
10. Every meal must include potatoes, except breakfast. New friends have asked if we eat many potatoes back home, and when I say no, they look confused, and ask, "What else do you eat?"
11. The food is truly fantastic, but it's eaten in what are strange combinations to me. Example: Lunch: Beef lasagna, french fries (chips), tomato soup. Breakfast: Baked beans, sausage rolls, grilled tomatoes, porridge. All great one at a time, and I'm learning to enjoy them together.

All in all, Ireland is truly a fantastic country and I'm still amazed that I'll be here until Christmastime.

I arrived at camp last Sunday afternoon, after a strenuous morning of moving myself and my four million pound bags.  The hotel I was staying at was very nice, but didn't have a luggage cart (what?), and  the receptionist looked at me funny when I asked for one. So I dragged my stuff (which had expanded since Marietta) down this tiny elevator in three trips, and got into cab. The cab driver, after asking politely why I brought so many things, was very friendly and found me a luggage cart when we got to the airport (finally -- a cart! What a novelty.) However, it had this weird brake system that I didn't know about, so the whole time I thought my cart was just broken as I struggled to push it through the airport figuring out where to meet the camp driver. After 20 minutes of struggle cart, an airport employee stopped me and showed me how to release the brake. I was too thankful to even care that I looked like an idiot American before. Eventually, Percy the driver found me and the struggle cart, and we made it to the Barretstown van. It's about 45 minutes to camp from the Dublin airport, and we chatted about his trips to New York and D.C. (of course).

Eventually you get to really small, windy, country roads that seem like they should be one-way, but aren't. Then you make it to Barretstown. When Percy first said "Here we are -- all of this is Barretstown" I thought he was kidding. I think my jaw dropped. There are 500 acres of fields of rolling hills, sheep, cows, and beautiful landscape. It looks like the countryside that Abby and I paid 50 euro to tour on a bus, but even more beautiful because it's missing the tour buses. Eventually you wind your way to the center of camp, and you see a small lake, and the Barretstown castle, which was built in the 12th century (or something like that). Once the assistant director helped me to settle in, I immediately grabbed my camera and went for a walk. Snapped so many photos that I'll share soon. I'm still pinching myself that I live here now, and when I wake up and hear sheep making sheep noises, I laugh outloud.

We've spent the last week training -- team building, planning, etc. There are seven of us on the leadership "support team" that will oversee camp for the next nine months. We'll serve families for weekend programming throughout the spring and fall, and children for six summer sessions. There are four team members from Ireland, one from Scotland, one from Canada, and me. We are a lively bunch to say the least. :)

More about work later, but I'm off to enjoy St. Patrick's Day in Ireland! (Apparently, it is a much bigger deal in America, but it's a bank holiday here so we have Monday off! I'll take it.). Lots of love from across the ocean,

CNG