Since 2007 I have been an expatriate living in
Ireland…but, only for the summer. In August I go home to Southern California, a
place of temperate weather, white-sand beaches, palm trees and choices,
wonderful, amazing, convenient choices that I never appreciated until Ireland.
Yes,
the emerald isle is really emerald and even more beautiful than those photos on
travel sites and yes, Irish history, for those of us fascinated by events of
the past, is around every corner and probably the oldest and most interesting
in Western Europe. For a writer of historical fiction, it’s a dream come true.
The Irish people are characters as well, witty conversationalists who turn a topic as
uneventful as the weather into recordable prose. But, for me, accustomed to garbage disposals, air conditioned buildings, multi-laned
streets, ice, refillable beverages, king-sized beds and restaurants that open
before 10:00 am and stay open after 9:00 pm, even on a Sunday, it can be
inconvenient.
Shallow?
Probably, but, on the other hand, window screens in a rural country where there are septic tanks, backyard compost piles, lots of
humidity and no garbage disposals, all of which breed flies the size of buses,
prevent disease. And while I’m sure the hot water switch for the electric
shower, always located on the OUTSIDE of the bathroom, and the electricity
switch for the cooker (stove) are both appropriately green, forgetting that
power isn’t available at the twist of a tap can make for an embarrassing, not
to mention uncomfortable, situation when you’re standing in a cold shower
without a stitch on.
The work ethic, a far more serious topic, is different here, too, but that’s the topic of next week’s blog.
Slain abhaile,
Jeanette
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