Castles, Coves, and Cats

 

Last Thursday marked the beginning of my first official Irish adventure. The girls didn't have anything going on in the afternoon, so we took advantage of their free time and took a little pre-tour before our big adventure on Friday. We started in Ballydehob, a tiny town of about 400 people that's about five minutes from here, and explored its magnificent twelve-arch bridge. The bridge was originally used for railway purposes, but was closed down as a railway in the 1950s due to lack of business. However, I was very glad to find that people are still able to visit the bridge and enjoy the incredible view from the top. After Ballydehob, we grabbed some ice cream from the petrol station (you'll be laughed at if you say gas station), and the girls drove me to a beautiful little cove called Audley Cove on the other side of the town. It was my first time near the water since I had gotten to Ireland, and I was absolutely amazed at how crystal clear it was. I was a little chilly, but the girls both kept saying how they wanted to jump in and go swimming. I thought they were crazy! I can't imagine swimming in anything cooler than 80 degree weather, and it had to have been as low as 60. But I've learned quickly... that is warm for the Irish! It doesn't get much warmer than that here, and if it's sunny and at least 60, people are shedding their clothes and ready to dive in.

Luckily, the girls decided to hold off on swimming (due to lack of swimsuits and the promise of the beach the following day), and we got back in the car and continued our tour. We stopped by a few other places - some coves, harbors, and piers - hidden at the end of windy, steep roads that were fantastic practice for Meg to drive on! It was fun, and we were all buzzing with excitement for the next day's real adventure.

On Friday, our first stop was lunch (that's usually about the time we get out of bed and get going here...). We went into Schull and picked up some picnic food from the tiny supermarket in town and headed to our first stop: Sharon's grandfather's house. She had told us what a neat location it was and that we absolutely had to see it. When we arrived, I understood why. As we pulled up the path to the house, the trees closed in around us, leaving only a small circular view of the house through the break in the tree branches. For a moment, I thought we were in the Shire and expected a little hobbit to come running out from inside the quaint old house. While there were no hobbits, there was an overly friendly dog that seemed way too interested in the pizza I was trying to eat. I made the mistake of carrying the pizza with me out onto the property, and in turn had a very eager and relentless friend following me the whole time, and not without the occasional jump in the air to take part in my delicious food with me... or just take period...

Sharon warned us to watch out for charging bulls. That made me comfortable. But as I followed her through the hills and around the shrubbery, I knew it would be worth our risky little jaunt. I strolled up onto the top of the hill and was absolutely amazed at the incredible sight. I had no idea that we were even near the sea (but then again I'm living on a coast with multiple peninsulas, so the sea is pretty much every direction you turn), but when I came up to the crest of that hill, the blue waters shone endlessly on the horizon, dotted with bright green fingers of earth stretching out every here and there into the vast midst of the water. Ireland is truly a beautiful country.

We didn't stay long on that incredible hill (partly due to the crazy dog that was jumping all over me), but the few minutes we spent there were spectacular. Before leaving we walked down to the small pier that overlooked the little cove near the house and took a few pictures. The next stop on our journey was Barleycove Beach, apparently one of the best beaches around here. Meg and Sharon's friends were all at the beach, so we were planning on meeting up with them once we got there. Everyone was out to celebrate the first day of summer, right after all their exams had ended the previous day. On the way to the beach, we passed two or three other beaches that looked like really nice beaches - bright blue waters, rocky and sandy shores, kids playing everywhere - and I wasn't sure why we weren't going to those. I understood when we got to Barleycove. We drove up a massive hill (quite fun to watch Meg practicing her awesome driving skills in a manual car) and parked on the street somewhere. I still didn't know where the beach was at that point, but we started walking down a huge grassy green hill, through some reeds and bushes, and out on the other side to a huge white beach. To get to the beach, you had to walk over a bridge/buoy thing that seemed to stretch on for eternity. It was sunk into the ground, but apparently it rises up with the water when the tide comes out.

We finally made it down to the beach, and I realized that of all beaches, this was the place to be. It was full of people, although we couldn't seem to find Meg and Sharon's friends. Another group of people told us they were on the other side the hill that was next to us, only able to be reached by going through the water. None of us were dressed to swim, but Meg happily gave me a piggy back across the water so that my pants wouldn't get wet. On the other side, there was another beautiful cove with tons of people laying out and running around in the sand, including the friends we had been looking for. We sat there for awhile... it may have been an hour... maybe two, just talking, visiting, and enjoying a rare thing in Ireland - sunshine. It was a gorgeous sunny day, and there was no better place to be than the beach. After some time, the friends started leaving, so the three of us decided to continue our adventure on to our next destination: a castle.

Meg drove us once again through the hills of West Cork, stopping every once in awhile when I would shout out in excitement and something I just had to take a picture of. Finally, the castle was in sight, my first view of a real Irish castle. Dunmanis Castle not a big one. It's not anything like the ones you are thinking of. It's more like a tower...but it's hundreds of years old, and it's in the middle of the hills, overlooking the ocean. What an amazing location! We walked inside and found a large open room a whole lot of dirt and rocks. There was a tall ladder perched against the wall with a small opening at the top. I hadn't even noticed the ladder when Sharon peered from around the opening and beckoned us to come up. I looked at her like she was crazy. She laughed and said she sometimes goes up places before she thinks about how it will be to come down...






Five minutes and a few squeals later, Meg and I had joined Sharon at the top of the rickety old ladder to stand up in the top level of the castle. There wasn't a whole lot of moving or shifting for fear that the floor might give out but, of course, we managed to take a few great pictures from the window sill that at least promised sturdiness. A whole other room branched off the other side of the hallway we were in, but we were content with looking rather than exploring. Then came the time to go down. Like Sharon had said, sometimes you don't think about what the way down is going to be like when you're only on your way up...

I'm a chicken so I was second down. Sharon was waiting for me at the bottom and Meg was steadying the top. I gazed down at the ladder from the top and had that one common thought we all have thought before: "There is no way..."

I turned and twisted and repositioned until I finally situated myself in the safest way to retreat. One rung at a time... one step... don't look down... AH!!! Don't look down!! One more step... that's it... phew!! Made it! I took a breath and just thought about how cool it was to climb down an ancient ladder that was actually used to get around a castle at one point. I tried to imagine what it might have used to look like in that castle or who might have used to reside there. I'm not really sure what it was used for, but I do know that it was a fascinating thing to see and hang out in!

Wandering around the outside to explore more, we got a text message from Amanda: "KITTENS!!!"

Enough said.

We literally dropped everything we were doing and RAN.

We sped home and burst through the door, ecstatic to see what we had been waiting so long for! Amanda told us that she hadn't seen the cat when she had arrived home, but heard some purring when she went to go get dressed for the evening. Deep in her closet, hidden behind a rack of dresses and shirts, three newborn kittens were nestled up in a big ball of fur, feeding from their mother's belly. The mom had knocked some scarves off of Amanda's shelf and hidden herself in a barrier of clothes to prepare for the birth. We didn't get to see them come out, and really didn't know when they actually did, but we were there only a few hours after and relished in the precious sight of brand new kittens.

It was the perfect way to end our adventure. :)

The Cemetery by the Sea

I turned 23 yesterday. I also met an interesting man. His name was Donal Newman. He is ninety years old.

I had some time to myself during the afternoon of the first day of my 23rd year, so I took a walk down by sea. The waves lapped up onto the rocks and boats filled the harbor. It was race day. Sailboats raced in the wind, ever so slowly crossing and passing each other, striving to become a small dot on the horizon for their competitors. I walked steadily along the shore.

I passed a child leaping across the rocks.

The path by the sea ended. The boats drifted further and further into the blue vastness, and then disappeared. I curved to the right onto a new path and gazed up at the monument perched atop the hill above me.

It was a cemetery. By the sea.

A lone white labrador trotted up beside me. He had splashed in the waves, run through the grass, pranced through the rocks. He was free. And happy.

 We walked into the cemetery together.

The grass was overgrown. It looked a little bit like a wild garden. But it was a well-loved garden. Every stone had a name, and a wife, or a father, or a daughter. A large stone building stood triumphantly in the middle. Inside was a secret area, knowing no sound but the quietness of nature. It had a window to the sea.

On the outside there was a man. His name was Donal Newman. He was ninety years old.

Donal Newman stood silently in front of a grave. He had a green watering can at his feet. His head was lowered. His hands were behind his back.

A tear rolled down my face.

Donal startled me from behind. He asked if I was visiting a loved one. I told him I like cemeteries...

Donal was married for 55 years. He and his wife Patricia worked in the Post Office. She died two years ago from cancer. His handicapped son died a few months later.

"We had a great life." Donal told me.

The boats appeared on the horizon again, the small white dots growing steadily bigger as they sailed inland.

His whole family is buried in that cemetery. They've been there for centuries. 

I walked away, got in my car, drove down the road. A man in an electric wheel chair was rolling down the street, water canister in the front basket.

It was Donal. He is ninety years old. He waters his wife's flowers every day. He had a great life.

Animal Farm

Today I learned a thing or two about having pets.

But not just any pets - country pets.

Let me start by saying last weekend, our cat had kittens. Since then, she's been super protective of her little ones, so we have done our best to stay out of the way but still make sure she is well-fed and taken care of (after all, she has three extra mouths to feed now!). However, it's a bit hard to keep track of her, because she's not an indoor or an outdoor cat; she's both. When I can't find her in the house, she may be running around in the fields around here or stashed away in a closet somewhere unseen. Consequently, I'm a bit unaware of when she has been fed or let out to relieve herself. A couple days ago, Meg went upstairs to her bedroom and I heard a shout. What else did she find but cat poop right on her bed! I thought that sounded quite unfortunate, but I was certainly glad it wasn't me! Amanda warned us all that we need to make sure the cat is let out, and we all resumed our business.

A couple days later, I walked into my bedroom after being away from it for only an hour or two and very unexpectedly come across a large wet spot on my bed. At first look, I assumed the worst, and was quite in shock that one of the pets actually peed on my bed! But then I called Meg in, and we looked up at the ceiling to find a large crack all the way across the ceiling with a little bubble at the end, directly above the wet spot on my bed. Phew! I was genuinely relieved that it was a water leak instead of pet pee. We didn't know what to do about it, so Meg called Amanda, but Amanda seemed really perplexed at the idea of a leak. Taking a look at the spot again, I was still convinced it was a leak, but the ceiling didn't feel wet when we touched it. I grabbed the comforter and put it up to my noise. I basically threw myself back against the wall at the repulsive smell. There was no question about it: it was urine.

In attempt to clean up, I tried to stuff the huge fluffy comforter into our very small washer. That didn't work. Then I tried switching my mattress with the other twin bed in my room. Twenty minutes later, with furniture displaced all over the room and beads of sweat rolling down my face, I sat down with the satisfaction of a fresh new bed. I had to switch the comforter as well, but I found a new duvet cover for me instead of taking the one from the other bed. That bed has been claimed by our dog, Roxy, who thoroughly enjoys opening up my door and finding company from me in the middle of the night. Of course, that's only after she takes swims during the day through the bog around here, followed by jaunting through the mud and grass.

The next day, I woke up with the intent of feeding the animals straight away, so none of them would go hungry.  I put some food outside for the cat, along with some milk, but I couldn't exactly go inside and pull her away from her kittens to make her eat it. I left the food there, hoping the cat would come out at some point to feed. When I opened the door a bit later, who else was there eating the food but Roxy herself! I made her go back inside and tried very hard to keep her from going out again.

Wanting to be sure that the Freezer (the cat) was able to eat, I ended up wooing her with some of the food to her food bowl outside. However, when we got there she didn't seem too interested in eating. I left her out there for a bit, but let her back in a few moments later. When she came back in, Roxy wanted out, so I let her out, planning to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't eat Freezer's food again. Not such a good idea... I opened the door a minute later to check and make sure the food was there, only to catch Roxy red-handed, milk dripping down her face and nose stuck in the bowl of Meow Mix. I refilled them and tried to make sure Roxy didn't get back outside to eat them again.

Honestly, I don't know what happened, but Roxy got out again, and the bowl was emptied, yet again. I was angry with Roxy for taking all the kittens' food, so I made her stay outside.

All the while, I was terribly afraid the cat would find a nice comfy place in the house to go to the bathroom again... but I had no idea how to get her outside. The chickens, on the other hand, had quite the opposite problem! Amanda has barricaded the backyard so that the chickens can't get out, but every so often on a windy day, the barricade slightly disassembles, and the chickens begin a little rendezvous up the driveway onto the main road. I started hearing strange chicken sounds (a little crazier than normal), so I checked outside to see what was going. There were no chickens. I ran to the front of the house and opened up the door to find four chickens standing on the doorstep staring at me, eyes wide and heads cocked, trying to figure out where in the world they were. I really pathetically tried to chase them and shoo them back into the backyard, but they didn't seem too interested in listening. I did find, though, that they were very interested in following, and I felt like a superstar being chased by paparazzi as they clucked and crowed after me all the way into their coop. I re-barricaded their wall to the front and very contentedly went and sat back down on the couch.

Three minutes later:

Clucking and crowing at the front door.

To speed up the process a little this time, I decided to coax them with bread, which was very efficient. I spent a little more time building everything up and making sure they wouldn't be able to get through the hodge podge of yard items that have been erected as the barrier. I sat down again.

Five minutes later...

Clucking and crowing at the front door.

I could continue on with details, but it's enough to know that this happened four times, with my patience completely run out by the last time. I made sure I built a faultless wall and finally went back inside to finish some chores, knowing the chickens were happy in their coop and were not going anywhere. As I walked through the backyard into the house, I noticed how much chicken poop was on the ground everywhere, so I carefully darted around it. The last thing I needed was chicken poop on my shoes! I sat down on my bed to check some things on my computer for a few minutes. Sniff sniff... sniff sniff... something did not smell right. I sniffed around here and there trying to figure out what the smell was and where it was coming from. I checked my shoe.... good... all clear.... smelled around a little more... lifted my other shoe and OH! A nice gray and white splotch was smeared all over the bottom of my shoe, exuding the most unpleasant aroma of chicken droppings. Just my luck.

After wiping my shoe off outside and scraping the excess poop from the sole, Meg and I cleaned the rest of the house - vacuumed, mopped, dusted - and made sure everything was sparkling clean before Amanda came home the next day. We made a particular point to clean up the mess from the bathtub that we had made a few days earlier when we gave Roxy a bath (a very messy job.... because it was a much needed bath!).

Meg and I left for town and came back home a few hours later. We were greeted by Roxy, filthy, soaking wet, and absolutely covered in sand and mud. She jumped and wagged her tail and made it very clear that she was very eager to go inside. I looked at Meg and knew we both had the same though - No way. That dirty little thing was not about to go into our spic and span house! Our first idea was to hose her off and make sure all the mud came off before we let her in for the night. I went around to the back, holding Roxy by the collar so she wouldn't take off and disappear into the bog at the sight of the threatening hose, while Meg went to the side of the house to turn on the hose. I led Roxy over to a corner where she would be getting her bath, and right as I stepped over the hose, the water turned on and sprayed right up at me! I squealed, skirted, and dodged around the flailing stream of water and amazingly ended up on the other side decently dry. Meg came over laughing and somehow tamed the runaway hose, and we set to work spraying a very resistant and disgruntled dog. We finally finished rinsing all the muck and guck off of Roxy, and I let go of her collar. And she was off! Straight through the backyard, out into the field behind us, right into a bush and pile of dirt. Of. Course.

Meg and I came up with a scheme to get her back, without fear of the hose, and without her sprinting off after her bath again. It involved towels, rope, and muscles. The rope idea actually failed because there was no rope anywhere in the house (and don't even think to ask for a leash... this dog comes when you call her name!). Meg set out to turn on the hose again, and I summoned Roxy and held her collar with a tight grip. Returning with dry towels in hand, Meg grabbed the thrashing hose that I had just dodged once again and went at it. I'm pretty sure Meg and I got just as wet as Roxy in the process, but at least Roxy was going to be clean. That made our soaking wet tennis shoes not seem so bad at the moment.

This time, as all last tries are, was successful (after all... that is why they are the last, isn't it?). After toweling Roxy off and guiding her into her bed in the house while making as absolute little mess as possible, we hosed off the rest of the chicken poo on the patio and sat down to marvel at our hard work.

With as many frustrating animal situations as I experienced in just a few days' time, you'd think I'd be crazy with anger and ready to lash out at any animal I see. Not even slightly. Although it might be a bit annoying having cat pee in your bed, chickens that endlessly escape from their coop, and dirty dogs in your freshly mopped house, you kind of just look at the whole situation and laugh! Just another day in the country!

I mean, after all... you can never really get that upset though when you're chasing chickens around. :)

The Hills Really Are Alive

Upon my arrival in Dublin, I was greeted by a nice older man waiting outside the Customs area for me. We retrieved my two large bags, packed them up on a cart, loaded them into his very nice car, and drove to his four story beach house in a suburb of Dublin. He dropped me off, showed me around, and told me he would be back at half three to drive me down to West Cork. Seeing as it was only nine in the morning, I had essentially the whole day to recover from an exhausting overnight flight where I had spent the past 7 hours watching movies and talking to an Irish couple next to me instead of trying to sleep and beat jet lag like I should have been doing. Completely ready to go to sleep for a good eight hours, I was fighting everything in me not to roll into the fluffy huge white bed, comfort comparable to a five star resort's, turn the lights out, and say goodnight to the world. Considering I was hardly able to function, however, I did allow myself a glorious two hour nap.

Getting up was the hardest thing in the world.

I found myself straining my eyes, trying not to close them again and drift back into deep, deep sleep, but I finally mustered the strength to leave the warm, comfy bed only due to the incentive of a nice hot shower waiting for me. The sun was streaming in through the windows and the house looked so lovely. I freshened up, helped myself to some lunch, and went upstairs to sit in the study, overlooking the gorgeous seaside. Foraging through the library, I discovered a book about the West Cork area and snuggled up on the couch for a while to read. It took all of two minutes before I was asleep again.

Before I knew it, the nice man was back and we were loading back up again to begin our four hour drive to West Cork. Although I was tired, I felt very prepared to stay awake considering the pampered welcoming to Ireland I had already had. As one who has a bit of experience with the trek from the U.S. to Europe, I can honestly say I have never had an easier or more comfortable transition while traveling! The timing of the flights from the U.S. make for brutal jet lag, and I'm so used to arriving in Europe in the morning and then starting a very busy day, leaving you completely exhausted by as early as 7 in the evening. I absolutely loved having a chance to rest, relax, and refresh before I had to get down to business. Then I was able to enjoy the relaxing drive down to the family, taking in the green hills and quaint houses, just like I've seen in the movies.

During my first few days here in Ireland, I really took it easy. That's the great thing about West Cork - it's the country so the pace is slow all the time. No one is in a hurry, no one is uptight... everyone is relaxed, calm, and ready to enjoy life! Amanda likes to call the days where you sleep in till noon and lay around in your pajamas and eat pancakes for lunch West Cork Days, because that's what we do here in West Cork! The cars are rickety, divey little things that are anything but fancy, but are great from getting you from here to there. Everyone is friendly and patient, and you know someone will stop by to help you if you ever find yourself in a bind or stranded. It's even rare to lock doors here. House keys are left in the front door and car keys never leave the ignition. It's safe, it's quiet, and it's wonderfully relaxed.

The first time I went out was with Amanda and her friend Gabby, the nice man that picked me up. We drove into Bantry, one of the larger towns nearby, and they dropped me off to walk around and take pictures while they ran some errands. The towns here in Ireland are so cute! None of them in this area are very big, so it is mostly just a bunch of shops lined along one or two streets, all painted different bright, cheery colors. I walked up a hill and found a beautiful church and a cemetery that I explored for awhile and then rejoined Amanda and Gabby before heading home. That was my first Irish exhibition.

The next day was Sunday and Amanda, Meg, and I got up and went to the Protestant church in town together. Most of Ireland is Catholic, so I'm very fortunate to have ended up with a family that is the same denomination as me! We arrived at 11:30, only to find that the services had been combined that week and we were actually thirty minutes late. Oops! We tiptoed in the back and sat down in the wooden pews. The order and layout of the service was very different from your traditional Baptist churches in Texas, but I enjoyed the new perspective on things. We sang some of my favorite hymns - Be Thou My Vision, Before the Throne, and In Christ Alone - and even did communion, knelt down at the altar and using one cup for everyone (I considered passing on that one...). After church, we went into Schull and ate lunch at a bustling little restaurant in town that served crepes as their specialty. We were all stuffed afterwards! Schull happened to be hosting a short film festival over the weekend, so Meg and I spent a little time wandering around the restaurants and shops. Each local business had a different area set up where people could come in and watch the short films that were submitted. Our first stop was a film roll that was powered by bicycles. Five of us got on bikes in front of a screen and cycled hard enough to get the film rolling so we could watch the feature movie. Now that's a way to not be a couch potato! If the power dipped below a certain level, the movie would stop playing, so that meant we had to keep pedaling with a good amount of energy. Not such an easy thing for an out of shape person like me ;-)

We watched a few more films in coffee shops and pubs and then drove home so I could begin my driving lessons. I came over here fully aware that I would have to learn to drive a manual car, not to mention on the opposite side of the road, but things didn't really kick in until I had my first attempt on Sunday. Amanda and I went out in front of the house in the car, she gave me some very clear and thorough instructions on what to do, and then it was my turn to try. I stalled. Then I stalled again. And again. I eventually got the hang of it, a little, but was completely overwhelmed by all the new things to think about - hand brake, clutch, gas, brake, RPMs, speed, left hand side, indicator - so much!! I practiced a few times on my own and became really discouraged (there's a hill outside the house, if that explains anything...). When I went inside, Amanda talked with me and told me that attempting a stick shift for the first time is one of the most discouraging things ever. But she ensured me that I seemed to have a good grasp of it and already seemed to be doing well. I didn't agree at all, but then again she has taught both of her kids and two other au pairs to drive manual, so she really knows how the whole process goes! She told me to take a break to let it settle in, and I might be surprised later when I go back to try again. We discussed plans for the following day and she suggested we go for lunch in town - with me driving. I thought she was crazy... I could barely get out of the driveway.

Apparently Amanda really does know what she's talking about, because I got in the car the next day and drove all the way into town - twenty minutes away! I only stalled once - in the middle of the only intersection in town. I still was getting used to the whole putting the clutch down when you come to a stop.... ;) Luckily we made it though, even through traffic, and it wasn't all too bad. I still have a long ways to go, but at least I am capable of doing what I came here to do! Amanda and I ended up having a fabulous time in Skibboreen while the girls were in school. We ate at an adorable little cafe right on the river and had some incredibly savory quiche, salad, and potatoes. Walking off a bit of our fullness, we strolled through the cute town and visited a few of Amanda's favorite shops, including a purse shop. After a trip to the grocery store and running a few other errands, we drove back to Schull just in time to pick the girls up from school.

Earlier that morning I had had a chance to take a walk through the hills around the house. It was spectacular. The sun was out, and it was one of the most beautiful days I've seen yet since I've been here. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but Amanda encouraged me to just get out and explore. So I whistled for Roxy, the family's adorable springer spaniel, and the two of us headed out up the dirt road and into the hills. We happened past a gate with barbed wire around it, but there was a path leading through it, so I climbed over to see what was on the other side. Walking up to the end of the path offered a sight that could literally take your breath away. As far as I could see, tall silky grass stretched across the earth, all the way to the horizon and dropping off mysteriously into a lush forest of trees on the other side.

Roxy was thrilled. Within moments she was leaping through the field, bouncing up and down through the grass to try to see over the top as she ran. It was the cutest thing ever. Her ears flopped up and down and she furiously wagged her tail and panted in delight as she bounded across the rolling hills. I followed right through the path she formed in the tall grass, not exactly sure where she would lead me. After a few minutes of walking and still no end of the field in sight, I paused and stood still for a moment. Gazing across the magnificent field, I listened to the noise of the wind blowing ever so softly through the grass and relished in the moment of stillness, absolutely no sound to be heard except the gentle rustling of nature. I fully expected Julie Andrews to all of the sudden come spinning over the top of the hills, bursting out melodies about the life and music within those hills...

That evening found us at a music recital at Meg's school. The school doesn't have a formal band as part of the curriculum, so the students all take private lessons outside of school and performed their work in a small solo and small ensemble concert. Meg plays the bassoon and did a wonderful job performing a really difficult piece. We all enjoyed watching the other talented students as well, including a twelve year old prodigy on the recorder. During the concert, I considered how the recorder is kind of a joke of an instrument in the U.S.... something we give to little kids to blow and whistle on as just another toy in the toy box. I discovered that day that in Ireland it is much different, and I was astounded by how beautiful of an instrument it can be. The girl who played it was just phenomenal, and the whole audience sat and listened to her play with mouths wide open at her incredible skill and expertise, all at the age of twelve. Her teacher said they're starting her on clarinet as well :)

Standby Stress

If you read my last blog post, you are fully aware of the loops and bounds I went through before I was able to figure out my plan for this next year and finally settle in in Ireland, the place that had been waiting for me all along. Well, I left out one part: my plane ticket was standby.

I was wonderfully and incredibly blessed by a generous friend from work who is engaged to an American Airlines pilot. She and I were discussing taking a trip to Spain for vacation this summer (since flying comes at quite a low cost for her) but when our schedules didn't match up for us to both go at the same time, she still offered to let me use a buddy pass. Can I just say I have amazing friends?? Anyways, I went on ahead of her and am still hoping she'll be able to come visit me in Spain this summer so we can have a few days to do some touristy things :)

What I quickly found, however, is that along with the blessing of a cheap tickets comes an endless amount of anxiety and quite a bit of extra work. Fortunately again, I have a wonderful friend who was patient and helped me the whole way through. It was not, however, without its difficulties and definitely not without its stresses. I chose the day I wanted to fly and had my friend sign me up for a flight. The day before the flight came, I packed, cleaned my room before I left it for a year, and went to bed hoping to get on a flight the next day. One problem: I was signed up for an overbooked flight. Originally, the flight I had chosen from Phoenix to Chicago had 20-something empty seats available and the flight from Chicago to Dublin had almost 30. As I was packing, things still looked great. In a matter of two hours, all the flights from Phoenix to Chicago filled up and became overbooked by several people with standby lists of up to 30, my place being at the very end of that. What happened? Good ol' tornadoes in Dallas threw off the flight schedules for several days and damaged quite a few American Airlines planes. On top of that, Chicago had such bad weather that some of the morning flights were completely cancelled... meaning all those people were re-booked onto later flights (my flight) with much higher priority than me.

I faced a dilemma of whether or not to even go to the airport and try to get on a flight that day. I ended up going and waiting in line to check my bags, but the ticket agents looked at me like I was crazy when I told them I was trying to get on a flight that day. They told me to come back in two or three days. Did I mention that there is only one flight a day out of Chicago to Dublin? Not getting to Chicago for several days meant potentially several more days after that, waiting in Chicago to try to get on the flight to Dublin each day, possibly postponing my trip up to a week.

Flying standby definitely teaches you a lot about patience... and gives you lots of opportunities to practice not stressing out. It was a little overwhelming carrying two 60 pound bags through the airport with me, juggling in my mind whether or not I should send them ahead of me to Chicago not knowing if I will even be there to meet them, and trying to mentally prepare myself for a possible overnight flight and a complete life transition, or instead another night at home in my bed with my family. The mental disparity of facing a long-term move and not knowing when it is going to start was killing me. I didn't even know if I should say goodbye to my mom when she dropped me off at the airport because chances seemed pretty likely that I'd be back home in the evening... but who knew for sure?

After missing my flight the first day, I decided to go to bed and check again in the morning for the following day's flights. When I got up, we had all expected it to be overbooked and a repeat of the previous day, but it actually looked pretty good! I decided to give it a chance and headed to the airport with my mom to see how things looked there. After checking my bags, I said my "see ya later" to my mom and went to go wait at the gate. I didn't have to wait very long before I found out they could get me on the flight! I was thrilled! That meant I would be able to be in Chicago... which would at least mean I could try to get on a flight to Dublin, although every flight that I didn't make would be another full day of missing out on Ireland. That also left the risk of me getting stuck in Chicago for an indefinite period of time, with nowhere to stay and only a few pairs of clothes packed with me. I went for it anyways.

When I arrived in Chicago, I contacted an acquaintance of mine from college and was able to make arrangements to stay with her if I was unable the Dublin flight, and then I would just wait till the following day to try to make the next one. I went up to the gate for the flight to Dublin and waited and waited as the entire list of passengers boarded the flight. My name was number six on the standby list, and they said the flight was entirely full. After everyone had boarded, they still hadn't cleared my name yet. They said they had a few things to figure out first. I thought there was no way... but yet I was still hoping. Talk about anxiousness! When it seemed like there wasn't even time left for me to board the flight, they told me that some of the passengers scheduled for that flight were going to miss it because of delays on the first leg of their trip. That meant I could get on! It was quite a whirlwind and happened very quickly, but all of a sudden I found myself sitting in the back of a plane on the way to Ireland! I guess it maybe should have been a goodbye when my mom dropped me off. ;-)

So now I'm here, having arrived right on time with everything having gone perfectly and smoothly. I can't say I didn't have reason to worry, because I think I actually did. But I am so thankful that it all worked out so well and without all the possible complications that could have occurred! In the end it ended up definitely being worth it flying standby, although that is all thanks to all the hard work my friend put into it, helping me check flights and make difficult decisions about them. It is because of her and her fiance's help and generosity that my trip was even possible, and I will gladly take the stress that comes with standby to finally be able to be here. :)

Back in Europe...AGAIN?!

Well... the time has come for me to start up my blog again! I'm back in Europe and am having lots of fun adventures to tell you about! Before I start with the stories however, let me tell you how I ended up back here once again.

Some of my co-workers at the Keg, people I love very much!

When I was still in Italy, my plan was to come back home, get a full time job (like a big girl!) and join the real world. That didn't exactly happen. I went back to working as a hostess at The Keg Steakhouse and Bar and was completely unsuccessful in all my attempts to find a regular 9-5 job. Settling back into life in Dallas again was a little bit difficult. I was happy to be home and to be able to spend time with my friends and family again, but I kept thinking about the incredible life experiences I was missing out on abroad. I still had some lifelong goals that I wanted to accomplish that can be done only by means of traveling, so I started looking into traveling once again.

Me and Tabitha in Ecuador

One of the goals I have is to learn to speak Spanish fluently, so I was considering South or Central America. At the same time, I felt very burdened over the spiritual emptiness I discovered in Europe and wanted to do something to create an awareness for the need there. I spent many long hours researching opportunities online and looking for the right place to help. I even took a trip to Ecuador to visit a missionary friend there and observe her day to day life to see if it would be something God had called me to do. Although I found such a huge need for the gospel in Europe, I kept leaning towards South America because it was a new place (I've gotten to know Europe pretty well by now), had a greater need in regards to poverty, and would ensure that I learned Spanish well. However, during my trip to Ecuador, I realized that South America is not where I am called to go. That drastically changed my plans! Talking to my missionary friend Tabitha really opened my eyes to how God can use me anywhere I go and showed me that doing ministry somewhere God doesn't call you to be is not the best place for you to be! My actual desire had been to go au pair again, because I love the experience living in another culture and becoming part of a family and being stretched and grown from the work involved. Unfortunately, I had pushed that thought out of my head because I thought I had to be a missionary or be in ministry in order to be doing what God really wanted me to do. Boy was I wrong! And I am so thankful for friends that helped me figure out the truth about God and the wonderful plan He has for my life.

I guess that's why all my other plans fell through. For months, I spent hours upon hours looking for different opportunities and applying to them online. I had been talking to dozens of missions organizations, but none of them had open positions and nothing worked out. I even signed up for an eleven month missions trip around the world called The World Race and obtained a spot on a team that was already full, but ended up dropping out after still not feeling like it was the right place for me to be. Fortunately, after my trip to Ecuador I was at least able to cross South America off the list of options. While in Ecuador I had figured out my heart was still really drawn to Europe and I was quite passionate about the countries and the people there. I began brainstorming about what possible opportunities there might be in Europe for me to share the love of Christ with people. Reflecting on my time in Italy, I remembered conversations that I had with friends who were so hungry for more - for deeper things in life - and I relived the shock that there were virtually no places for young people my age in Italy to hear more about Christ, to ask questions, and to grow. I became convinced that I wanted to work in some sort of University ministry somewhere in Europe, working with college students and bringing to them what is not readily available. I looked at more missions organizations and was met with even more closed doors. The only positions I found were support-based salary positions, and there is no way I know enough people to raise a full salary for a year.

I also started searching for au pair positions for the summer, hoping to do au pair for the summer and continue on to ministry or work with University students in the Fall and possibly Spring. After about a month of searching and planning, I finally found a family in Bilbao, Spain that wanted me to come for the summer. It wasn't the location in Spain I was hoping for, but the family seemed perfect and everything felt right. Well, I have definitely learned that feelings aren't everything. Sadly, the family had a last minute change of plans and no longer needed an au pair for the summer. I was back to square one.

Mijas, Spain, location of G42

I continued to look for au pair positions and ministry positions, but I honestly had no clue where I was going to end up. I talked to as many people as possible and tried to make connections so that I could hear about more opportunities in Europe. One of my friends introduced me via facebook to one of her friends who sent me a few links to programs in Spain, one of the countries I was most interested in (I still didn't want to let go of my goal of speaking Spanish fluently!). While I was checking out the links, I found an incredible program that immediately captured my attention. It was called G42, a leadership academy in the south of Spain that launches you into the dream and vision that God has for your future. True, it wasn't exactly the University ministry I had been looking for, but G42 peaked my certainly interest, so I applied and asked God that if He didn't want me to go, then to close the door by having my acceptance denied.


Needless to say I was accepted, and now I am planning to spend six months in Spain from July to December 2011, something I'm quite excited about! That still left me a month or so before I would leave to start the G42 program, so I continued looking for an au pair position for just the month of June. Let me just tell you - that is not an easy thing to find. Hours were spent (again) looking and looking in Spain for an au pair job that would help me acclimate to the Spanish culture, lifestyle, and language before moving there permanently for six months, but every single door closed. One day I simply gave up. Spain was not working, even France was unsuccessful. No family felt right in either place, and I was running out of time. I had to think of other options. On top of my long term plans, I had been hoping to visit Ireland, the country that was currently number one on my list of places to go. In a lightbulb moment, I realized I might as well try to find an au pair job there, since it was for such a short period of time anyways.

And guess what? I found one :)

My bedroom in Ireland

And now I'm here in my Irish family's house, wonderfully welcomed by such a kind family and town, sitting on my bed with the sun streaming through the windows and peaking out over the green rolling hills and amidst the fluffy, cotton ball clouds. Just over the nearest mountain, I'm sure the blue harbor of Schull is shimmering in the sunshine. The chicken in the backyard is clucking, the expecting cat is laying lazily on the chair, and tiny white seeds are floating through the wind outside my window. What a beautiful country... I am so blessed to have ended up here of all places!

Our house!

I am very much looking forward to spending the next month here with the wonderful Connell family - Amanda (the mother), Meg (the 17 year old daughter), and Sharon (Meg's 17 year old friend who lives with them). Amanda works in another town as a college professor several nights of the week and is not able to be home for a few days at a time, so she had me come to help look after her daughter and be there so the kids aren't on their own all the time. They are such a great family, and I am really excited about the time we have to spend together. I know the time may be short, but I am determined to make the most of it!

Sharon, Amanda, and Meg last year

Kids Do the Darndest Things!

We all know that kids say and do the funniest things sometimes. While I was babysitting a three and a six year old, I saw plenty of these occasions. The following pictures are only a few of the many moments that made me laugh and think to myself, "Kids certainly do do the darndest things!!"

We have our drama queen... Maria Vittoria... ready to put on a show anytime there's an audience ;-)

And our dinosaur-crazed Cesare who would much rather have a picture taken of his T-Rex than himself:

And of course, the most silent you will ever find five kids under the age of six: mesmirized by Toy Story 3. Doesn't even matter if it's in a language they don't even speak!

 

Never forget the kids who conk out during their naps:

 

Or the typical craze for stickers...

whether they're on your face:

 

Someone else's face:

Or an even better exhibition:

Don't forget the days of dress-up:

Especially dressing up your pets:

 Or dressing up and multi-tasking:

 

And the frequent funny faces:

And sometimes scary faces!

But then there are the days when it soon has to come to an end:

 But kids always find a way around that :)

They will stay true to their friends till the end:

 After all, they are "best friends" :)