Some days I catch myself dreaming of returning to Canada. It doesn’t happen that often, but often enough that I think I may have a problem. It’s not that there’s really that much wrong with Ireland, I mean, I’m growing accustomed to their “chipper culture,” football-crazed populace and fashion politics. But while I can’t stand the food, still can’t get into football and enjoy my jeans and T-shirts, I do feel that I’m finding a way to still live the life I think is possible here without being influenced too much by the inherited nuances most of the Irish seem to live with so absent minded and unaware.
The boyfriend went through a period where he got addicted to tv abit. I think, however, he’s coming back to me, but I’m not sure. Television does have that retention issue when people begin to surf the millions of available channels and learn to live with crap broadcasting. And I think one of the biggest reasons why he’s coming around again is because he has access to his sister’s car right now. Oh, and we’re looking into buying our own car. I forgot how much freedom I felt when I owned my own car. But years of living in Toronto without a car made me think that I could get on fine in this new land without one. Besides, they drive on the wrong side of the road and on the wrong side of the car, so it would be like an extreme sport for me. I guess that’s why the skydiver in me decided to buy a car. We’re looking into buying one from a friend of his sister’s. It’s a Fiat Punto. I have not seen it yet, but apparently it’s yellow. I can’t wait to drive it. I just hope that the Irish let me drive on my Canadian licence because I haven’t gotten around to getting an Irish one yet. Oh, and then there’s the small issue of insurance. Apparently in Ireland it’s always young men who crash their cars, so women always get cheap insurance. We’re talking like maybe 300-500 Euro a year for me. Pretty awesome huh?
Besides the thoughts of returning to Canada and taking on the driving challenge, life here hasn’t changed all that much. The weather change, however, is beginning to have an affect on me. Back in Canada everyone is crawling out of their dens of hibernation and venturing out in the 20+ weather to budding trees and warm winds and all the gloriousness that is soon to come with summer. The trees are budding here, but it’s only 15 degrees at the highest. Summer doesn’t come to Ireland anymore. Apparently it took a rain check about 15 years ago and has never been spotted in this green land since. I can go out in a T-shirt, but I have to bring a sweater with me just in case. I’ve heard this still sticks true in July and August. It doesn’t make me that happy. I love my summer. I love my beach and tanning and the heat and ice cream and sweating and all that good stuff that comes along with the summer in Southern Ontario. And now I have to deal with four seasons in one day here. I know people say that talking about the weather is one of those things you do when you get old, but my joints do ache and the weather is important to me. I will end on this note. I do not like the weather in Ireland, but I’ll deal with it for love.