Christmas Eve 2006

Happy Christmas Eve 2006,

I feel as though this Christmas season has been a blend of “the best of both worlds” as an American Christmas comes to Kinsale. One of the goodnesses of our American traditions are the memory driven decorations throughout the house. The Christmas tree is festooned with ornaments gathered and given as presents throughout our lifetime. My first Christmas ornament was a gift from my piano teacher, the set the my ex husband and I painted when we were 18 and poor still look festive, and the many leprechauns and shamrocks given to us by friends in the US remind us about their support even as they celebrated and bemoaned our decision to move to the Emerald Isle.

As a child in the 50’s I delighted in bubble lights – which a person had to hit lightly on the bottom to get the bubbles to rise properly. Thanks to the magic of step down transformers these 110volt beauties still grace our Christmas today. Along with the village of tiny houses, purchased, one every two months for years by my aged mother, now delight the Irish children who come to celebrate our decorations and help us unpack and set up the advent calendar.

On the Irish side there is fabulous craic. This word that means a mixture of fellowship laughter and good cheer available in gatherings of lighthearted people was un known to us before we moved and now has become synonymous for much that we celebrate in Irish life. And craic pervades the season. From the dinner for those on the Tidy Towns committee who help each other pick up tourist rubbish throughout the summer season, to the friendship group from the local Church of Ireland, to the Rotary luncheon where members bring their wives and the gender mix is finally close to 50/50, we have been welcomed and much laughter has pervaded the last weeks.

I got a sewing machine for Christmas and have been happily mending the pile of clothes, grown too big for me and needing to be trimmed inches so that they can be worn once again. As I was finishing the last bits this morning I marked how the Irish state radio station RTE 1 brings the holiday cheer home to everyone, urban or rural dweller. First, “Sunday Morning Miscellany” charmed us with intermittent essays on Christmas eve’s past and music, covering Christmas’s spent abroad and family memories of Christmas emigrations as well as those spent at home in Ireland. Then “Christmas on Grafton street” in Dublin sent out a different kind of good cheer – highlighting two other parts of Irish culture which we treasure, the music and the jokes. Even the Taoiseach (roughly prime minister or president) Bertie Ahern came on making jokes and remembering those who are helping others or away from home during the holidays. Can you imagine a US president being this human or casual?

As the Irish believe in helping the less fortunate there are numerous ways this is accomplished during the holiday. Tomorrow, on Christmas young and foolish people will be throwing themselves into the frigid water off Irish shores in efforts to raise money for charities. My Rotary club partners with the Cork club and we co sponsor and work a remembrance tree outside of one of the stores on Patrick Street in the heart of Cork City. For any size of donation people write messages to loved ones no longer around and the ribbons are then hoisted up the tree. Last year we raised over 12,000 Euro, this year the money going to Enable Ireland, helping the mentally disadvantaged.

As I sit here with my feet up, dogs and cat resting under the Christmas tree, enjoying the turf fire in our fireplace I realize how fortunate we really are. While some days it feels as though I moan and grinch about everything, it is moments like this that remind me that others truly have things to moan about and that our family have health, wealth, and happiness. So on that note, it seems appropriate to send love and prayers to everyone who reads this, hoping that we enjoy 2007’s where we can appreciate what we have and find ways to help those less fortunate.

Lots of love,

Alana

Grey days - great days

Hi everyone,

I love a grey morning! This is probably a good thing because winter in Ireland is grey. Grey sea, grey sky, grey-brown shrubs and bright green grass. Not the combination I am used to, but one I adore. We have both the melancholy that is appropriate for this low light time of year with the bright green that keeps my spirits from falling into a ditch.

Grey days are lovely excuses too aren’t they? In my case they are a great time to sit in my office and enjoy the surf rolling on to the beach as I work at my computer. We have recently redone our offices – moving Margie out of this one and into her own space on the second floor (third floor in US terms) where we put a sky light into the low ceiling. This little room is perfect for her and she hums as she does her work or writes her Haiku poems. Margie moving out allowed me to organize my crafts and art materials and to reorganize the cabinets. I have a big 17” plotter printer which used to be on my desk – taking up a lot of room. It now has its own shelf. Ted built a cabinet with a granite top and that side of my room welcomes me to get started on the next series of art.

My next set of ATC’s (artist trading cards, used as thumbnail sketches used to be used through which to mature ideas) will be about childhood. This was prompted by our dog Shadow, who ate one of my old children’s books. I replaced it on Ebay (and finished out the set) and decided to use the drawings and illustrations from the damaged copy as part of a series of collages on childhood. There is an international ATC website which hosts women’s work – and I have to have 20 cards to send on. I hope to complete the series early in 2007.

Grey days are also good for reading. The fall Margie and I joined a newly forming book club run by our favorite bookstore (and that is the name of the store: Bookstor). Our group has twelve memebers although we are still to have the full number at any one meeting. One man, Gerome, who owns the Kinsale boat touring company adds spice to what might otherwise be a higher degree of agreement than we have with him. Each of us select one book to host each year – and so far we have read very diverse material. Since this is the reason Margie and I joined – to meet people and to broaden our reading, we are well satisfied. That is not to say I don’t grinch all the way through books that I don’t like – and my reading tastes must be very narrow, because much of what we have read did not please at all during the reading. I find that after hashing it all through with the others though I find myself more at peace with the reading experience, whether I enjoyed them or not at the time.

Finally grey days make it enjoyable to know we have play practice that evening. Evenings start about 4:30 here these days, but practice starts at 8 and runs to 10. I will write more about the Panto in another blog, which is at this momentstill being written in my head.

I hope everyone reading this is feeling equally cozy in whatever type of day or evening this finds you,

Lots of Love,
Alana

Happy Christmas from our family to yours

 

Thanksgiving in Ireland

Hi everyone,

Today is Thanksgiving and we have much to be Thankful for. It is also a hoot celebrating and American holiday in a foreign country. We invited a group of friends and neighbors over for dinner (7pm here) and are enjoying cooking the first turkey we have cooked since we sold the big house three years ago.

It is odd and yet personally confirming to celebrate a holiday when no one else knows it is going on. Not that most here haven’t heard of or know of folks who are celebrating Thanksgiving, but it makes it so much easier when the whole country isn’t competing for the turkey let along standing in long lines as they will at Christmas. We got a bird that was fresh (as in butchered yesterday with some feathers left half in). What we couldn’t get were pumpkin pie makings (I guess they don’t eat that here) or onion soup mix for the dip. We gave up on the pumpkin but were able to cobble together some facsimile of the soup mix and successfully made the dip. The Irish call dressing stuffing – not so odd - but what they sell for stuffing is not breadcrumbs but rather a hard wheat type pellet with great spices. Two packages of the mushroom herb + one of cinnamon apple made a great mixture and I look forward to comparing it once cooked.

In true Irish fashion, it turns out that we will have two potato dishes (smile).

I spent hours this afternoon sending Thanksgiving cards to family and friends, via email – very civilized to get them all off with little fuss. We also got the fountain that was stolen earlier this summer replaced, so our front garden is complete once again. The dogs (especially Shadow) think that they have died and gone to heaven – they think feasts should come everyday. They may not be so happy when they learn that they will be sequestered in the basement for the main event.

Wishing everyone in the world a fabulous day – full of gratitude for the blessings of love, life, health and happiness.

Budapest spas

Budapest is a wonderful holiday spot because of the spas. I will remember most the glorious luxury at the end of the day to lounge in a Turkish or Romanesque setting, enjoying the hot waters. On a relaxed day, as an example, we woke late, did yoga and took off in the van provided by the hotel to the city. After a brief hour catching up on my classes (great to earn a living while on vacation!) we hopped on to the Metro and got out at the Parliament building (shown below). During the day we visited the museum of ethnography to catch up on current photography and ancient Hungarian lifestyles. After a lovely Italian meal we headed off by Metro to City Park. A few short minutes later we were deciphering the sign at the spa.

We visited three spas while in Budapest. The Rudas is a recently reopened Turkish style building. The Turks loved their numerology and the symmetry of a central courtyard with four adjoining rooms. This translates in the spa world to a central pool, where small bits of glass let in shafts of light, surrounded by smaller pools of differing temperatures. What I loved about the Rudas was tripping from very hot to very cold waters.

The Gelheirt is probably the most famous bath on the Buda side of the river. A huge underground cave, segmented into a mens and womens area, the Gelheirt allows both sexes to join in the swimming pool, where they are surrounded by Romaneque columns. I confess to liking single gender bathing more than mixed gender as the commaraderie among women who are strangers seems more comfortable. I also loved the very hot steam (50 degrees centigrade) followed by the cold plunge. By the time I left I could survive in both temperatures creating a very powerful exuberance after dunking in the cold.

The bath in City Park is altogether different from the others. Large and Romanesque the bathers are primarily sharing large pools out of doors. One is a perfect 38 degrees centigrade with crystal clear water. On the other side of the swimming pool is the pool with bubbles and jets. Metal plates in the floor of the pool release jets of water and people vie to occupy one of the plates when the jets are on. There are two 3/4s circle of 1 meter tall tiled walls in the center of the pond with powerful jets on the outside walls. These set up a whirlpool effect that sucks the unsuspecting bather into a wild ride around the wall. Most go laughing and screaming a few times around before battling the water at the entrance to get out. Not everyone is successful escaping the ride on their first time. From amusement to complete comfort, strolling between the two pools, Margie and I watched the sun go down.

Writing a textbook

Blog on writing the textbook
Two and a half years ago now, I was finishing the first cohort of principals and teachers using participatory action research (PAR) to study issues of children experiencing homelessness or high mobility. I remember how proud I was of their efforts, of what they had learned and how much I wanted the world to hear and embrace their stories. So, being me and always being ready, if naively, to go for the top, I looked up the writers proposal guidelines for Sage Publications and sent off a quickie proposal to them.
Naïve is the word, although I am still very new to this business of books, at least now I know that this first proposal had no chance of being accepted. I hadn’t done my homework: I didn’t know that Sage is mostly the side of this business that produces textbooks, nor did I realize that this book had little chance of selling big numbers and therefore needed to be published by a publisher for whom little numbers would be fine. In other words there was never a match between the idea and the publisher.
The universe still supported the move, not by publishing the book as suggested, (later self published on the web by the company I worked for at the time) but rather by helping me birth my dream of becoming a writer. I received a call from an acquisitions editor (didn’t even know what her title meant at that time) who told me that Sage produced textbooks. She was calling, actually to ask if I would like to write one on PAR? She had some books she with which she wanted to compete. With this call, although I would not know it at the time, a new life for Margie and I was born.

Time zips ahead in chunks:

• During the first chunk Margie and I go to Dillon reservoir, having read the competition, and plot a textbook that makes the most of what we feel is important adding bits we don’t see in other’s work. With the help of a research assistant I craft a new proposal for Sage.
• During the second chunk I finish my dissertation and start the web based side of this work.
• During this segment I write the whole PAR process out for the first time. While I was proud of it, this writing later proves to be a really bad draft.
• Right after we move to Ireland I re-sort those bits of writing and send off three chapters to Sage for review. The reviewers varied widely from loving it (can’t think why in retrospect) to hating it. I redraft the first three chapters, learning a lot from the reviewers as I go.
• This last summer was spent drafting chapters 4-11. It was a good thing I didn’t know many people in Kinsale because I did not feel put out as I watched them play on the lawn while I wrote. Fortunately we had lots of visitors from the US so life was not completely dull.
• After two months rest, I picked up the final reviewers comments and started the final edits. This process began about a month ago and I expected to be done by the time we went to Budapest (where I am now writing this piece).

As the reader may have guessed, the book is not quite finished, but thanks to Alan Bucknam, our third author and the artist who did all the diagrams and figures we use, we have a timeline and are checking off items. The book will be in finished form to the publisher by Dec 7th. This means we are months ahead of the editor’s schedule, the timetable pushed up so it can be adopted by classes for the fall of 07.

This blog though is not meant to be a rehash of events, but more a discussion of the personal evolution during writing. Early on this summer, after receiving the first reviews I faced the idea that I had nothing to say, and felt totally inadequate to the task at hand. It seemed a miracle (it still does) that Sage wanted this book from such "a nobody" like me. After that phase came a bit of revival and I realized that I do have opinions (when have I ever not had opinions???) and that there were things that I wanted to say. The challenge there was that I was still trying to marry what others have said to those ideas and the output was garbled.

During this last push I have re-edited my first chapters and listened, with a fresh ear to the comments of my reviewers. Bless them; they had two consistent messages, which are probably the messages of all reviewers at some point. First they told me I ramble when I don’t know exactly what I want to say. Better to put the energy into knowing exactly how I want it to look and what I want to say at the beginning. And second, they told me that the whole needed to be crafted so that the reader knew at all times where they were in the book’s progression.
As we explore Budapest during our not quite celebratory vacation, I am beginning to plot my next couple of books. One is the story of our lives taking us those few years from the US to Ireland. Simultaneously I am looking at a self help book for people who want to reinvent their lives. Perhaps they are two books, perhaps one.

I am reading about proposals, and editors, and the process and learning in hind site how lucky I was all over again. And I am listening to the basic messages of our first reviewers. Don’t lose the forest for the trees, or the trees for the forest. This one is difficult because I have always loved knowing the whole and then wanted to shift to understanding the miniscule variations that make up the complexity that is that whole. The middle ground, the trees, is not the level to which I naturally attend. Perhaps this is the message of writing for me: to translate the way I see the world into a form which is accessible to others.

Loneliness

I had a hard time adjusting to being in Ireland when I came back from three weeks in the US in September. Even now, after more than a month to process my discomfort I can’t identify all its components. The US is a highly stimulating place, plus when there I cram every instant into seeing family and friends, working or learning (this time a yoga conference). By the time I arrived home in Ireland I was tired.

But I did not expect reentry to be hard, yet it was. I couldn’t easily relax into enjoyment of the beauty around me. There was too much work to catch up on, yet that work wasn’t satisfying. Nothing was really satisfying. After three weeks I realized that I was lonely. The awareness was pre verbal, and so distressing it was not easy to share. By the time I could say I was lonely out loud the tightness in my gut was dissipating.

Family and friends then came to the rescue, each with a story or a comment which helped me piece the learning out of the distress. First my nephew Brian commented that his friend Michael had felt foreign, or not at ease, in the Philippines for almost five years when he returned there after growing up in the US. My friend Alice asked what I looked for in the friends I wanted to make. After all I could not replace the years of history with people, but I could be cognizant of the qualities I sought in the new friends I wanted to make.

Curiosity, a wide sense of the world, an unconditional acceptance of people the way they are, a caring heart, and a stable demeanor these are the qualities that come to mind. I see that I have already found those in a number of people: Kate with her caring nature and unconditional acceptance or Louise with her curiosity and understanding of the cultures around the world are great examples. Louise’s glamour and entertaining qualities give her friendship an extra plus. Our neighbor Chris who is interesting and astute and adds stability and helps us sort out the world of living in Kinsale, along with Nora who does the same thing in different ways both also contribute to the sense that we are not alone here.

Kate mentioned that she too feels that dissatisfaction, and she is surrounded by people she has known all her life. Folks aren’t living lives where anyone can just call and say "Let’s go and do something right now." Our complex lives require pre arrangement. So this leaves me looking at how I have let my social life down by not feeling comfortable enough to prearrange things with people.

Coming into the holidays this will get easier. Already on our calendars are a Thanksgiving feast at our house, a Christmas party for Tidy Towns, a luncheon with the St. Multose friendship club, a gathering with Kate and Marion. We look forward to a games night and perhaps a crafting afternoon in the New Year.

All of this reminds me of the Girl Scout round: Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.

Age and Disintegration

Age and disintegration

What a nasty title this one is, not quite 55 and the decay is obvious. For me age deters my ability to walk long distances, and travel through Europe brings with it more reason to walk long distances than I ever had while living in the US. For one thing public transport is good, therefore travelers can get to their destination without the worry or stress of navigating (first on one side of the road and then on the other) in strange locals with different driving rules. We are now in Budapest, and I find that because we did not rent a car I feel more like a tourist than I ever do when I am trying to drive.

But with the joys of public transport comes the extra miles of walking – from where it lets you off to the museum or public site and back again. Not to mention getting lost, as we did yesterday in Budapest. Who would have thought that one of their famous shopping districts, along the Riva U. would be echoed by a major thoroughfare north in the city Riva UT? This was doubled by the difficulties of changing from one map, scaled very close, to one scaled to cover the whole city. Presto! We walked an extra mile or two. One mile took us to where we discovered the Budapest public housing area and another took us back to where we could catch the metro.

Thank heavens that in Budapest we finish each long day of walking with the baths. We have now visited two, both Turkish, both very old. In one, women and men are separate except for the swimming pool, in the other one gender or the other is banned except on weekends where everyone wears swim suits. Actually we found that on the women’s side of the Gerheirt baths most women wore suits. The older European women who followed the tradition of nude bathing were the minority with younger Japanese or Chinese women balanced with younger Americans making up the majority.

After getting lost but before the baths I could not take a long striding step, but rather balanced the pain in each leg through smaller steps. After the baths, although not without sensation, I could walk fairly normally. This was sufficient the first day when I took a Tylenol PM, had a good nights sleep and felt fine for the second day. The third day in a row was over the top for my body and even a Tylenol PM did not let me avoid the pain in my hips enough to easily sleep. Nor when I woke this morning am I "good as new."

This condition brings up two thoughts: my Mom and Dad at my age, and what I learned at the yoga conference. My Mom and Dad were comparable to my age now when I was in high school – so I saw things first hand that now translate to an understanding of the body I inherited. Only who was to say I would get the worse parts of both?? From my Dad I got varicose veins and poor joints. I remember him stretching himself out on a counter top in our kitchen, and hobbling around the house after his veins were worked on. From my mother I inherited hormones that lose the ability to regulate hot and cold, therefore always throwing open windows (she would say it was "stuffy in here") and another set of bad joints. Touch wood my hips stay whole, but there you have it.

This leads me to what I learned at the Yoga Conference in the States this fall. Bare in mind that the last time I attended this conference these same teachers (then in their late 40’s and early 50’s) seemed to be saying "Do yoga and it will keep you young forever." This time the message (or was it my ability to hear the message?) changed. Now they are saying (I am hearing) "The body decays – get used to it. If you do yoga the transition is easier."

So it goes.

Ode to the author

While I intend to write more about my first experience with authorship - the following poem from Margie lifts my spirits and perhaps yours as well :))
Alana

ODE TO THE AUTHOR

When sitting so long might your bones get all tight
And yoga indeed will help relax your joints right

So walk beyond your desk prison and inner doors
To be nurtured and loved from she who adores

The time comes night to depart for Budapest
And you my dear love, deserve a break and rest

Nov 3, 2006

Hi everyone,

One of the joys of living in this house is having so many places to work. I like to work for the university upstairs in the loft. This morning it is gorgeous. It is now 7:45 am and the sun is just rising. Pink and gold nestle the green hills and brown cliffs at waters edge. The water is silver grey, lightly lapping the shore with shallow horizontal waves. On the other side of the peninsula the boats in the marina are docked in what looks like glass. The sound of seagulls breaks the stillness, which is also punctuated in my private world with the drone of fingers on the keyboard.

Our morning routine is to be up by 6 – into the hot tub with tea and coffee. Margie stays but a minute as she goes upstairs and meditates with the cat on her lap – I stay for 20 minutes or so and work through the kinks that tighten my legs into morning pretzels. Then it is up to the main floor for yoga. One week we strengthen, work on yoga relaxation over the weekends to flip flop to yoga that increases concentration. This practice expands our lung capacity and is geared to take us gracefully into our sunset years. As Margie points out it is amazing how good it feels – so good that we rarely want to rebel and forget it, and when we do we have the other to remind us of how much better our days go when we feel strong and flexible.

OK – I have been distracted by the beauty long enough. I think of my friends in the US – now asleep of course, and wish everyone well. May we all find beauty in our days and love in our lives!

Love to all,

Alana

bits n pieces #1

Sometimes a memory sneaks up on me and hugs me tightly. I smile and rest in the images that emerge. The teeny snug apartment, our last home in Denver, conjures up such a hodgepodge of pictures--the big mahogany bed that dominated the crowded living dining/sleeping space--our sheltering blue armchair and gold fabric rocking chair for nights of reading & relaxing--the regular escape to the efficient size kitchen, thankfully separating us from the smothering, licking labs due to the blessed dog gate. This cramped, stifling but homey space had us falling over each other daily--we five made the chosen space our home even though we seemed to move as one big blob in the tightness throughout all "our stuff". Grumpily getting dressed at 5am in the office/dressing room/closet/storage room, with the dogs dancing on my toes, reminds me to recall and to chuckle this downside of an otherwise cozy little apartment. Renaissance art prints, earthtone colors of walls and floors, three overspilling bookcases and the JoRai altar, all speak to the eclectic style and mood of the Jamenkiewicz HOME--a comforting pattern that tells a bit of who we are and our shared need to create a safe and sacred dwelling that we intentionally clain as our own.

Fall has come to Kinsale

Hi everyone,

Fall and spring my favorite seasons - I now have to adjust due to how different fall is in Ireland than anywhere else I have lived. Instead of lovely colors we have the gorgeous days of summer followed by cold winds which changed the green to brown. Now don't get me wrong - not much is brown, only some of the hedgerows and the bits around the edges. The lawn is a lovely green, many flowers are still blooming and we can now see the birds again because the trees lost their leaves.

These days have been the first cold days of the fall/winter - cold enough for turtleneck shirts and flannel jeans. An advantage to the high wind is that our beach is seeing rushing waves at certain tides. Most of the time we can bearly hear the water - but lately it seems to roar. This may also be a function of no leaves in the trees to capture the noise.

While we haven't had much leisure time as we finish the book we have put in a few hours gardening - planting bulbs, etc. Mind you with a container garden all the work for the season only took us a couple of hours. When we get a bit of time to read we moved a big chair into the area right inside the front door, this bit of glass catches some of the nicest sun in the house, AND we can watch our neighbors as they come and go - the American busy bodies - that's us!

To stay in shape and keep our spirits up through the long dark season we joined the health club "leisure centre" at the local hotel. Lovely place to swim, if only 15 metres long. This plus yoga has us looking better than we have achieved in years. Just one more stone and I will graduate from weightwatchers. Since my weight has been the one challenge I never have completely overcome, reaching this goal will mean as much to me as anything else I have done!!

Love to all for now,
Alana

When I get old I want to live like my cat

HI everyone,
I have a friend, Marsha (the cat lady) who has always said that she wants to come back as her cat. I don't know about that, but when I get old I want to live like our cat lives.

Out of the five of us, Samson has benefitted the most from the move to Ireland. First, he sleeps on warm floors, he has a plethora of soft places to lay about, and he gets to be "cat about village" and go outside at will. He gets to lord over the dogs, the staff (that would be Margie and I) and the rest of the village (whether they know they are being lorded over or not).

As is shown in the picture he has taken to sitting on the cushion on the bench at the kitchen table, waiting for me whenever one of us starts to cook. If we are delayed past our usual lunch time he will wait, knowing that sooner or later food will arrive. Then he sits next to me and purrs. Should I be inconsiderate and not give him a small tidbit from my plate, he will encourage me to consider his needs by tapping the table with his paw!!! We hate to confess how successful a maneuver this has become, rationalizing as we do that he is an old cat (now about 20) and that "really he deserves to get what he wants."

Samson's health has definitely increased since the move, he prefers the food in Ireland, and he gets out for a regular bit of excercise. All his needs and most of his wants are met almost as soon as he voices them (herding us as he does into the room where his food is kept). He sleeps and eats on his own time table. His life is interesting to him and he has diverse company.

Definitely the life I want to live as I get older (big smile),
Love to you all,
Alana

Blackberry Pickin'

sweet, juicy and ripe
stop and snatch a few to eat
bushes do abound


The berries from the fresh air market or the town organic market may be plumper and hold a sweeter taste--but stopping along the road to pick blackberries brings back kid memories. Cathy and I picked many berries on the top Edgewood and even made our first jam when I was ten. But the art of berry picking was perfected as we procrastinated by the mile long bushes on those many, long, tedious hikes during my camp days as a teen. To ward off hunger until the next meal we lined up off the shoulder of the road to Guernville. Campers and counselors, alike, picked and ate, picked and ate. We didn't need buckets--we plopped the soft, delicate nuggets on our tongues. Berry stains on mouth and t-shirts were the only telltale signs of our detour back to camp. How fun to remember those happy hiking moments as the blackberry bushes once again provide a roadside treat in a whole new land.

In the Morning Mist...

gentle misty drops
blowing across hedge and lane
wet days delight me

02-09-06
Our newly discovered neighborhood adventure is to explore a nearby country road, lined with blackberry hedges and pocked with puddles and pot-holes. This morning, we particularly enjoyed an INVIGORATING WALK as our two ol’ black pups and Em and I, who were clad in rain gear, hiked up and down the misty, blowy lane to look about the local graveyard. While surprised at the age span recorded on the gravestones as well as the variety of decorations at the plots, I was taken with the scattering of site edgings that simply directed visitors to “sit and pray” “kneel and pray” or “sit and talk”. Engraved on one beautifully designed granite headstone, I appreciated reading “Do not think of me as gone. I am still with you in each new dawn.”

Puttering in the Patio

Putter, dig, fix, grill
Sacred private patio
Holy is this space





The thick cement walls are six feet high, which shelter me from the outside world when I want to spend some time moving and doing in the privacy of our enclosed patio. BBQing on the grill, cutting firewood, potting plants, fixing broken stuff or just sitting in the sun become contemplative activities.

Night Life

unsettled cows moo
dogs bark to warn intruders
holes poke through the sky

For a number of nights I have been aware of the sounds of the night. As I welcomed the familiar sounds, smells and feel of the sea, my ears opened to the mooing of the cows on the hill. What caused their nervousness? Following the sounds of cow anguish, the farm dogs barked their warning to stay away to perhaps, walkers returning from a few pints at the pub-or-are there predatory animals lurking on the hillside? I will listen for new sounds of the night.

Field Mushroom Addiction

furrow and devour
Consume each morsel with lust
response to “come”--ZILCH

Taking walks for the past month with my dog Shadow has become a dreaded moment rather than our usual easy-going stroll. Shadow has discovered field mushrooms and she just cannot eat enough of them. One or two to compliment her daily feed of dry dog food wouldn’t be a worry, but THIS dog does not understand the word enough. We think the hillside varieties of mushrooms are non-poisonous, but we are not completely certain. When approaching a fungus field, I quickly snap on Shadow’s leash until we pass the temptation. So far, the days when she found her delights(before confinement with mandatory restraint) have not caused any negative side effects. Then again, what can you expect from a dog with an iron stomach that was not fazed one bit after eating two pounds of SEES rich dark chocolate a few Christmas seasons ago. I await the end of mushroom season on the hill.

cuppa tea

sweet, amber, steaming
satisfying cuppa tea
you make me sigh so.

I wake to the--drip--drip--drip of the rain from the vent on the bedroom wall. The thick, concrete walls muffle the fierce droning of the wind. Hmmmm, I do believe this is a day to start s-l-o-w-l-y with a cuppa tea and a bedside read. I sigh deeply, knowing I am privileged to stay—sleepy—cozy—warm, and not have to rush into my bright crimson raincoat and mud splattered wellies. I will join the outside world later.

The end of Summer

Hi everyone,

While I have been in Ireland every September for the last four years, this is the first year I lived through the summer and experienced the bitter sweetness of its ending. We had a brilliant summer by all accounts - more dry sunny weather than in the last 20 or so years by everyone's personal reckoning. About mid August that began to change with a colder night or two thrown in. You know the way where you just get an intuitive feel that says "oops feels like fall is closing in." Today, September 1st bears out that hunch, with cold rains keeping all who can in doors.

Neighbors left starting last weekend. We are down to maybe two households of summer owners and I am sure they will leave soon enough. Bitter sweet indeed - sweetness in the blackberries which line the road and break up our evening walks with goodies. Sweetness in having the place more or less to ourselves, but sorry to see some of our best friends more than a shout a way. I remember these feelings, when I was a child and the summer drew to an end and I had to go back to school. All in all it is good to be in touch again with the ebbs and flow of time passing.

All the best,
Alana

On balance

Hi everyone,

I don’t know about you, but I find the computer’s energy too-too absorbing. In fact at times it knocks me completely off center. At these times if the challenges I face at the work seem daunting I find myself rolling into a state of S T R E S S. Some days, I avoid it and stay calm because the tension with the work is low. Other days I avoid it by interspersing activity. Today I balanced it by walking to the beach, climbing on a rock, breathing and then meditating on the light on the water as shown above.

My other reminder for wholeness and away from stress is to pick up my drum. A Bodran (Irish pronunciation = BOW ran) is a round, hand held drum with an octave of different sounds available through the mix of the hand on the back side and the double headed implement you beat with on the head. Mine was made by a lovely man in Scotland and employs goat’s skin to the result of a truly lovely sound. His daughter got him into making drums, the complexity of it kept him interested. We were lucky enough to hear her play – awesome – interesting and unusual are adjectives which come to mind. Her drumming was great to hear and set the standard I would like to achieve.

I am an amateur at best – most times beating out my own rhythm but sometimes trying to play along with music. I think I prefer my own rhythm because then I am not as conscious of the distance between what I am doing and being interesting or keeping time. Whether it is the walking to the beach, playing the drum, doing yoga, or other unheard of yet activities – we all need balance. I find I build inner capacity as I lead my attention to that rich inner landscape. My breathing slows and after just a few minutes I feel refreshed.

I look forward to hearing what you all do to keep the balance in life.

Alana

Castlepark Residents Association Annual Meeting

Hi Everyone,

Margie and I got our first taste of a yearly event we have heard tales about since we purchased our property four years ago. Sometime during August every year all the residents of Castlepark Village are invited, by formal document, to the annual meeting. These meetings get to be quite contentious. For instance, last year we had been told that a discussion of young people playing ball on the lawn resulted in people shouting at each other and resolving never to come back.

2006 it can be said was tame compared to all that. This year's agenda was not surprising - including issues of: 1) collecting annual dues, 2) water, 3) writing letters about the traffic on the road, and 4) banning building in July and August. In general I found the conversation dominated by the men, but not to the point where women's opinions were not listened to. I thought that the discussion was reasonable, and, like most meetings, although there were differences of opinion that few spoke out of hand or insultingly. As in any group some have stronger opinions than others and we voiced those around the idea of how much we could "ban" anyone doing anything. The nuisances which were discussed the most were parking cars in the center of the village and building or remodeling houses in July and August. I had to laugh to myself as the woman who went on at greatest length about cars parked in the center of the village has children who regularly park in front of her house, right outside our window. Such is life in a village.

The admirable and exciting part of all this is that people do meet and discuss mutual interests regularly . Almost half of these people have known each other and worked together to keep this small settlement running smoothly for 30 years. There is historic memory about how and why things were done a certain way and each time we have these discussions we learn a little more. It is as though all these little bits weave us more and more into the cloth of the community.

Of course, being me, I spoke out for inclusive practices - as opposed to making rules and trying to enforce them. I also took on the task of rough drafting a letter to the county council about the roads, one which we I will forward to people's email, or drop in their box and which we hope will be redrafted and sent off to various folks, trying to get the road work we need done. Somethings don't change, whatever side of the pond you live on (smile).

I hope this finds everyone having a brilliant day,
Alana

Smaller can be Better

Hi everyone,

This morning I am celebrating the small circus. Straight out of a scene from "Toby Tyler, or 10 weeks with a circus" I found myself entranced with calliope sounds last Tuesday when went into Kinsale for errands. Evidently the circus would be playing our town on Wednesday and Thursday for two performances each day. It slipped my mind until yesterday when I found 2 Euro off coupons in a local store. The only thing competing on our calendar was cleaning up rubbish with the Tidy Towns committee - so banishing our civic duty for another week we played hookey, picked up our friend Joan and went along to the circus.

Ireland is host to many small circuses, we have seen them play throughout the summer along with other events in all the towns around Kinsale. Fossett's bills itself as the only completely Irish circus and the Fossett family have been entertaining the people of Ireland since 1888. The blue tent is about the size of an ice skating rink, and it might be able to hold 700 people, although a rough count last night made me think there were 150 in attendance (not that I am good at such guesses mind you). In the spirit of the thing we got ringside seats, which in this case were truly ringside the performers being 3 feet away on the other side of a meter high metal barrier which slotted together at the edges of the panels and was painted with swirls and curly cews.

The performers were marvelous. No other word can describe it. Margie couldn't watch when the high wire folks were twirling. The Chinese acrobats were enthralling and the juggling, tumbling troupe stacked themselves on top of pole from the floor to the ceiling of the tent. The camels were the only live animals who performed and they were very interesting with their furry feet and legs and odd facial expressions. They also had pony rides for kids during intermission, which would here be called an interval, which along with face painting made for an evening the children would never forget. One of the ponies looked to be semi-bad tempered but all were held in tight control.

I left really blessing the performers, thanking them in my heart for the lives they lead and the joy they bring to people as they tour throughout the summer. Most were young people in their twenties and the seemed to be thoroughly enjoying what they did. If ever in Ireland, we recommend you take the chance for an evening of great entertainment.

We look forward to reading any circus stories you may want to add in your comments,
All the best,
Alana

On writing a book

Hi everyone,

Before life moves on and I forget these days of writing the book about Participatory action research, I thought I should take a moment to reflect on the rythm writing sets up in life. I can write this today because I had a good push at the beginning and succesfully organized what I have just been working on and what will come next. Some days perhaps my story would be different (smile).

I use the wisdom of one of the many authors I have read on writing (can't remember which one) who said to write first thing in the morning and that he had learned that from a woman who, when at a writers retreat got up, got coffee and hit the keyboard. I find that, in general, not everyday, that I am best if I do the same thing - there seems to be an almost magical period of time when my mind is relaxed and the things I write make sense - this is when writing is fun.

When writing is not fun is when I am slogging through the references that Margie has marked for me - reading, reflecting and then coalescing the thoughts of others (with appropriate citations of course) to transfer them to the new context of the type of research methodology about which we are writing. This work may be fun, as when I muse over some new idea and find that I can make connections I have not made before, or it can be extremely painful, as when I type things into a rough draft wondering if they make any sense at all.

Have I had times when my writing did not make any sense? Absolutely, in fact whole sections of the first draft were pretty senseless, especially compared to where we are now. Where we are, by the way is with Chapters 1-6 at the reviewers and 7 and 8 in final draft and 9 in rough draft. Mostly done???!!! I don't know what the reviewers will do to us, but I can't imagine it will be as substantive a change as we saw the first time.

I also have to say something here about the great team effort this book is. There are three of us whose name will be on the cover and one who will have the majority of the acknowledgements. I write the rough draft and figure out the basic content, Margie edits that draft and, at the other end of the process, labels the figures and tables, takes care of permissions, works on the glossary of terms and looks after the fine details. Alan Bucknam does the graphics (the one above is my favorite), reads the draft just before the reviewers and brings the eye of someone totally outside of this work to the product. His objectivity and support are refreshing. Tracesea Slater edits the draft in the middle, after I've had a go twice with Margies edits in the middle.

After two and a half months of writing six days a week I broke down on Chapter 10. I expected it to be a walk in the park and instead it was a black hole. I understand the term writers block and have moved on to work on conference presentations and I'll come back to Chapter 10 after a break.

All for now,
Alana

One sentence and three words

Hi everyone,
Margie took this great shot at sunrise the other morning - so I am uploading it here so everyone can enjoy one of our views. Funny how the shots made our tiny beach seem big. We have regular help keeping the beach clean from the Cork County Council this year - so it looks grand doesn't it?

Today's short post is my attempt to catch the wisdom given me about writing from one of our shopkeepers. David is also an actor and perhaps playwright - a man with great talents. He and I were discussing a brilliant performance of Cambria -a play written and performed by Donal O'Kelly who also did a workshop, which David attended. Bottom line here is that David was telling me the workshop was brilliant and I asked him what was the best remembered bits? "One sentence and three words", he says, "A story ready to tell can be done in one sentence with three defining words."

So here it goes: Our story is about two women who redefine themselves and their live by moving half way around the world! Partnership, persistence, and playfulness.

Any thoughts?
Alana

By mid summer....

Hi everyone,

The following was written the first week in July, 2006

A note from a friend inspired me to take a brief moment to catch up all those I love with the latest news from Ireland. I see that while my accent isn’t changing much that my use of words reflects some of the local vernacular.

Traffic, crowds, more neighbors

Summer at the beach is the name of the game these last few weeks. Adding to the congestion is Kinsale’s art festival which is this week as well. Together the place has “a great buzz” but little parking (smile). By that we mean seriously little parking and, as my New Zealand chiropractor commented, “an excellent time to see Irish parking skills.” You have to keep in mind that as of twenty years ago not everyone in Ireland owned a car, the roads are the size of an alley in Denver and not consistently paved. The result is an ad hoc type of parking. The little country road that gets us home also gets the public to the beach – with no parking at the end of the road the sides quickly back up with parked cars. While parking on one side is fine, cars can still go back and forth passing oncoming cars with care. With a car parked on both side it become treacherous, So treacherous in fact that the Castlepark residents are once again asking council to intervene with some signs to help the situation. There is little likelihood that anything will happen though as the trauma is only two months a year – and then quickly forgotten. The entire situation is “mad!”

More of our neighbors have arrived. Castlepark is not about 2/3rds full – and some of the known crabbiest neighbors are with us. What has become clear is that there is nothing to worry about – a few engagements and then they will be gone. You may remember that we bought a house around which there had been a great deal of contention within the residents association, due to the building behavior of the last owner. Glad to say that the tension between our neighbors has lessened with time. Plus we have well mannered dogs that don’t bark much and a fountain with flowers to beautify this section of the village. They seem to have better things to worry about than the Americans who seem to be behaving ourselves. All is good.

The neighbor in front of us, and our dear friend, is not someone who behaves himself. In fact he has a pretty typically Irish “if you can get away with it all is well” attitude. The latest adventure happened one day at the beginning of summer, when low and behold a large lorry drove up with gardening supplies. The next thing we see is that the gardeners are taking out turf and building a deck off of our neighbors’ property. Keep in mind that none of us own the land around our houses – it is communal. You should also know that most, if not all houses have encroached on that land from time to time, but doing so always causes a hot reaction at the time. This day John and Kate build a deck in front of their sliding door on the communal green. In fairness, they didn’t fasten it to the ground, and should there be a problem it can easily be removed but we had the president of the residents association over to see, calls made, letters written, etc. It also seems to have blown over with time.

Dog(s) win awards

Margie and I spent Sunday last at a pet show in Belgooly. The yearly event was part of what would have seemed similar to a fair in the states. A bit of history is important to this story as well. Ireland has always had a strong agricultural community, one that until the 1970s was not mechanized. Then in the mid 70’s vast changes happened as the local farmer moved from taking their milk to a creamery everyday where it was made into butter, then that butter competed with every other Irish creamery’s butter – getting them all the lowest possible return on their money. Then almost like magic, in the mid 70’s Ireland joined the European economy, got guaranteed prices on goods, stopped competing within itself region to region and developed a world identity. This story becomes important because a fair here has tractors, and other types of farm equipment that is ancient and yet in great working order – after all it was still in use not long ago.

In addition to tractors, and old cars the fair had a circus, food booths and of course the dog show. Margie had never been to one, and my dog Stefan has bad hips, and they couldn’t care less if the breeds were pure (although most were I think). Margie and Shadow took third place in two events, large pets and gun dogs. The gun dog one we hadn’t considered because our dogs wouldn’t know a gun if they saw one, but the judges asked us to come in – I think they agreed with me that the Dalmatian that entered was not really much of a gun dog – but then neither were our two.

When we got home we reassigned one of the little wooden plaques to Stefan and called him the most adventurous dog in Castlepark. He earned his title today, when we were up on the hill picking up rubbish left by campers over the weekend. Margie suddenly screams that Stefan is down in the water below us (a drop of about 20 feet). Luckily for us all he was able to scramble back up the hill – otherwise it would have been a cold swim around from the beach to rescue him.

Vacation in Scotland while others visit in Ireland

We’ve had a run of company. While I went off to the north of Scotland with two girlfriends, Margie entertained another three here in Kinsale. The apartment came in handy as the place we live is too small for company, plus the apartment lets people enjoy the real buzz of life in a medieval town where our house is more separate.

So far we have done well to continue our work writing a book while being able to enjoy friends. Speaking of the book, we are working on Chapter 6 of 10. It is due to the publisher in October, and after that we will celebrate by going to Budapest for a week. Not a bad life after all (Grin).

Finally, the colors here are changing to purples set against the green. There are tons of purples to running to reds caused by the huge butterfly bushes to the hedgerows of fushia. About two weeks ago I noticed that there were also two colored “mists.” The first, created by short grasses that had gone to seed on top and then turned brown in the sun, edged the green of the grass on the hill with what looked like brown, ankle deep mist – Lovely. The second type was created by fishing lines. On the walk into town there is an area where the fishermen store their gear. One of their nets is a blue monofilament knotted in a diamond pattern, which, when laid on the ground around their pots, creates an aqua misty looking area of contrast to the bright orange and brown of the rest of their ropes and pots.

Love to you all,

Alana

Two months into Ireland

Hi everyone,

The following was written after we had been here two months. The stress of setting up was over and we were starting to feel more at home in our new lives.

Sunday 19 March, 2006

It has now been a month since our container arrived from the US. I think in whimsy I will name this the month of daffodils as we have had them blooming inside and outside our house for the entire month. Now we are down to two inside and I am heartily glad to see the end of them for this year. Outside we have the late blooming ruffled edge variety going and they will take us through to the 24^th which is the official Daffodil day in Ireland. Lots of groups will be out on that day selling real and artificial blooms for charity.

Today is lovely and crisp. The sun comes out from light cloud cover periodically and when it does the bay shines silver in its path. The tide is in, making the waves roar (or as close to a roar as we get here in our little bay) but loud enough to set a soothing backdrop of sound to the morning walk up the hill with the dogs. Staying in the present moment is a challenge, one with which I have wrestled for years. Part of moving here was to slow life down, to allow more ease on the “staying in the present moment” side of that equation. Perhaps it is similar to tides – at times they are in and I can stay present to the air, the sound, the light, and then they go out, and I get caught in the challenges we face with the granite counter top at the apartment, our taxes in the US and setting up the c computer equipment in my office.

Our home is cozy, the apartment will be done, or mostly done this week, in time for our first renters. Indeed, life in general has progressed. I have attended my first Rotary meeting, and this week Margie and I will go to dinner with my new club members, if all goes well, and we have a good time without the more conservative types standing back in dread of our partnership, then I will soon make my first foray into building fellowship with others outside of our neighborhood, by joining Bishopstown Rotary.

I came here to write and to do artwork. True to the way in which I move through life, I have a vision of the life I want to be living. Corny to say it is somewhere between Murder she wrote and Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple. Not that I want to have dead bodies regularly popping up or mysteries that need to be solved, but that I see myself as becoming such an intricate part of this neighborhood that, as a much older woman, I lead a fascinating and worldly existence while firmly rooted in this little place.

Writing and art require daily discipline and that is my next step. I am working on setting up my old laptop for artwork, and the new one for personal writing with the desktop taking the brunt of the business writing. Writing and art bring me back full circle to the challenge of staying in the NOW. NOW the sun is shining the little birds are enjoying the birdfeeder, although a beautiful larger bird just vacated a place where he was looming over it, in hopes that somehow the food might do for him as well (which it won’t because of the squirrel proof features of the feeder.

What would I like to capture in my art? The brilliant sunshine and the sense of fresh beauty that accompanies it when it breaks through the clouds on a day like today..

What would I like to capture in my writing? The subtle tensions of life, those that define us by how we handle them. For instance, how do I learn to be sole loving to Margie even when I am full of worries? How do I learn to relax even when I am worried about some small aspect of the future? How do I forget these tensions completely and live NOW. And so it goes, back to the tensions with NOW once again.

The tough side of reinvention

Hi everyone,

Looking back on February 2006 I remember the tension caused by the old and the new colliding. This is the tough side of reinventing a life. Fortunately for me, I had some healthy habits that helped re-establish equillibrium - as you will see from the note which follows.

Diary 8, February 2006

I am sitting up in the loft or mezzanine of 8 Castlepark and it is twilight (5:16pm). The sun is going down behind the bridge to my right sending zig zags of brilliant white yellow across the pale blue waters, broken by small ripples in the Bandon river. The water in the bay to my left is gently lapping the shore, although just before it crests into mini waves it appears still and shiney as glass. The wind has died and it is still except for the occasional voice carrying from either the beach or the car park next to it. It is a perfect time for dogs and children to be finishing their play times before they come in for supper.

This is my life and I am beginning to feel at home here.

This week found me starting new habits, putting the daily routine of life together and that helps the sensation of being at home.

On Monday nights I go to Weight Watchers at 7 pm at the Trident hotel. This is a 20 minute walk on nights when I have the energy, smartly setting out in my designer (tongue in cheek) reflective vest. I am the latest fashion in my lime green overvest with silver criss cross stripes, but this vest and a torch (flashlight) in my hand and I will be safe.

On “the Tuesday” I went to the chiropractor, working long hours up to 9pm + helping those of us whose lives put our backs a little out of kilter.

On the Thursday I will start going to Yoga, that way Margie can go with me to the beginners session and we will continue on to the main session at 7pm. I met Coleen, the instructor going into the temperance hall on Tuesday – when she asked how I knew she was the yoga teacher I responded that the mat in a carry bag from India was a sure give away. She is influenced by Angela Farmer, a teacher whose work I am unfamiliar with so I will appreciate a new influence.

It was Yoga that got me back to myself while going through the feeling of powerlessness and frustration brought on by the woman Orlaith who felt at the beginning of the week as the impenetrable wall between us and our stuff every making it through customs. Thank heavens for the serendipitous occurrence of having BKS Iyengar’s book on Yoga on my IPod and the “coincidence” of listening to it while I painted a wall. While I am sure that in other circumstances Orlaith must be a very nice person – to me she was snide. In Irish terms she treated me like an “eegit.” At the end of the day, we fired their firm. It will cost us more, but the lack of aggravation will make up for it.

I quickly settled the problems with customs, having conveniently been given the name and number of their director as I shuffled through their system trying to find the right office. A charming man, Brendan pointed out that he couldn’t read the packing slip – I acknowledged that the writing was hard and asked if he would take a version I had made up myself as I packed. He took it and subsequently quickly OK’d it – although the dreaded Orlaith had assured me for a week that this was not possible. Nor did he question any of the other two or three points which she was conveying. The frustrations may not have been entirely her fault as she was working with a customs middle man who was working with another customs official. Needless to say that by the time my messages to help them interpret US paperwork came through to the other end it was like the child’s game of telephone – everything was garbled. We were headed towards a difficulty experienced by a woman from Philadelphia who our new removal (moving) man told me about. Her container was taken to the dump (in case her items were explosive) and everything had to be unloaded, expected and then reloaded in her container. If our extra charges are 1500 Euro, I can only imagine what hers must be.

Alls well that ends well and I am grateful that we are privileged enough financially speaking to be able to afford to make this work at the end. Even with the extra charges by hiring a new removal company, we are coming out ahead of our second bid. I am beginning to get excited about making this house our home, removing the furniture to the apartment that is multi-use and casual, suitable for a weekly beach house situation, and putting in our small touches. I look forward to a turf fire in our fireplace, to setting up our office and to being able to have craft parties, although realistically that is still a few months from being finally done.

The apartment will shape up quickly – Ted will start putting in a new floor next week and the new kitchen will be installed on the 24^th – then two weeks later the granite counter top comes. Margie is a cleaning fool there a couple of days a week now and will soon take up the paint brush and roller. In the off times we are writing a textbook – aiming for our first three chapters into the publisher by the end of the month. Still unless people think we are working hard, the reader must put this in the context that we go to be at ten, get up at 7 and don’t start work until 10am or so, then lunch takes an hour and we have stopped working by six – with at least one walk to the hill or swim in the bay somewhere in the middle – the typical Irish schedule suits us well.

Alana

February 2006

Hi everyone,

In February our stuff arrived. Follows is a note from that time.

Happy Sunday morning from Ireland!

Margie is out this early Sunday morning driving into the 24 hour Tesco store in Cork – not because we desperately need the milk she is picking up but because she is using the lack of traffic on a Sunday morning as a great time to practice driving on the alternate side of the road. I had an advantage in adjusting to driving on the right because I came here more frequently in the last two years and stayed for longer times, hence Margie’s desire to practise. (you’ll notice I am practising my Irish English spelling as well).

As I write I am listening to RTE1 – the public radio station in Ireland and what is absolutely sublime radio. For any of you with broadband, should you be interested, I recommend that you go to the RTE website and check out the saved versions of one show that is a Sunday morning standard in Ireland. Generations of children have been raised and multitudes of morning Rashers have been cooked to “Sunday morning miscellany.” This mixture of short story, essay and poems interspersed with music is both touching and extremely entertaining. We find it charming.

So what has been happening? The fun news

We went to a community meeting this week and I ended up volunteering to help. In Ireland there is a very prestigious award called “Tidy Towns.” It is given by a committee to smaller towns and is given in Silver and Gold awards. Twenty years ago Kinsale was a silver Tidy Town, and STILL displays the notice on a big sign as you enter town. This is false advertising from my point of view as, since we have purchased property here, we have seen the charm and cleanliness of the town decrease, to the point it has been a bit worrisome to folks who are investing in the area as we are. This decline has not hurt the tourism business a bit – but we can’t help but feel that “tidying up” would be a good idea. Therefore when we saw and advert for a Tidy towns committee meeting in the weekly publication, we decided to walk into town that night and see what was up.

As most of you know, I have been part of community groups for years and the reason I love them is that I am charmed by the energy that is always apparent when groups of people come together around a common cause, no matter how down-to-earth that cause may be. Certainly an hour discussing the difficulties of “rubbish” fits a description of a down-to-earth discussion. Kinsale is a small town, rubbish pick up has to be paid for and many who live here are foreign nationals (Polish young people primarily) who work in the restaurants and hotels. They don’t want to pay for their rubbish pick up. Therefore the “bins” are full almost as soon as they are emptied. When this is mixed with the fact the Ireland became the most progressive country in Europe by banning cigarette smoking in pubs and restaurants, therefore driving smokers out the door where they smoke on the step (leaving their butts on the curb) Kinsale is faced with these challenges. Anyway, here were the Americans, unexpectedly showing up for this meeting, being welcomed (although looked at with curiosity) as it was discussed how the committee would market their plans and how they would spend their finances to help the situations described. One of the ideas that caught my interest was the idea of “before and after” pictures – with celebrations of places which improve as the town gets ready for its season. Long story cut short, I found myself volunteering to take some pictures. On sunny days for the next month Margie and I will take pictures and will keep you up on what we find. The best thing we get out of our involvement is a small bit of insight into the folks, most of whom who have lived here their whole lives, who are instrumental in the way the town is run. As Margie chides me – we have lived here a whole of two weeks and already I am volunteering for things (smile).

Some of the first relationships I made three and a half years ago were with stores and businesses. Many of you may remember the story of when I had only two hours to buy all the appliances we would need for the Castlepark house because I had to give their measurements to Celtic Interiors who were designing and supplying the cabinets and countertops. As I left the store the young man who had shown me the various design elements of each appliance looked quite worn out. Circumstance has us returning to those same vendors now as we remodel our apartment in town. We are turning its use into a “holiday home” or letting by the week. I don’t know whether to be pleased or embarrassed to learn that these vendors all remember me. I think it may be because of what we call the “Beverley Hillbillies Syndrome” meaning those constant small cultural errors that we make in all innocence everyday. Certainly these errors become even more common during home remodelling, where the difference in the ways in which Americans use English become even more apparent. Whatever the reason, this Thursday and Friday were a bit like old home week as we once again sink our feet into the challenges of remodelling.

The Cat in the Hat story with customs

It all started because the foreigners didn’t know their telephone number. Most of our neighbours have numbers in the 477 exchange, so it was natural to put our number in that exchange as well, when really we can be found at 470-6990. While we figured it out and made the proper changes the fact that we had made cards with the wrong number still haunts us in unexpected ways – the fact that the shipping company had that number is one of them.

Our container arrived in Dublin harbour as expected on Saturday 21 January. I called our shipping company and also the local moving company on Monday the 23^rd – to give everyone our correct number. I was told by the local moving company that they didn’t expect the shipment until 13 February, a fact they confirmed with the shipping company. Because of this correspondence both Margie and I and our shipping company relaxed, expecting the shipment to take a couple more weeks. MEANWHILE customs is trying to reach us on the wrong number.

I wasn’t even expecting customs to call us. We had paid to have the moving company take the things through customs, so I was very surprised to later learn that customs had called us for four days and had finally resorted to calling the moving company – who had not only the wrong number but an email address from my previous work. The first week had gone by.

This last Monday I receive an email from the moving company and their very frustrated representative annoyed. They tell us that we have to move fast because now our shipment is being charged storage fees by customs. A reasonable person might think that this would be the end of the miscommunication but alas that is not the case.

The next problem was that it took three hours spent to fax the moving company with my relocation forms. First we would drive into town to a fax, then because the fax number didn’t work we would drive back to the house, only to drive into town to try again. This continued three times before the local Dublin exchange was properly sifted from the international dialling code and the fax went through. THEN customs wouldn’t look at the faxed copy so the originals had to be sent – but no one told us that they needed to be special delivery, in fact the woman in the Post assures me they would arrive the next day. WRONG – the next afternoon the representative from the moving company both calls me VERY” annoyed that the originals aren’t there but also emails me. She is by this time documenting every possible error, in case I intend to keep up my belief that I am not completely culpable for these errors and therefore the storage fees which are being incurred.

As I write the latest renegotiation with Macquire International has to do with their balking when I reminded them that there are a few very heavy items in this container which require special handling – handling for which I prepaid. They tell me that they never heard of such a thing. This resulted in my writing an email to both the shipper and the moving company – written in what I hope is a tone of reconciliation even though I really feel like throwing a temper tantrum. If all goes well this will sort out without too much more annoyance on everyone’s part and our things will be delivered either this week or next.

To keep this saga in perspective, the container has arrived and someone knows where it is. Our next door neighbours had friends come back to Ireland after 10 years in the States, shipping three containers (and I thought we had a lot of stuff) but only one arrived. Touch wood, that hasn’t happened here.

Goodbye for now

If you’ve made it this far, then it is time to say goodbye for now. I am off to take the rubbish to the skip (dumpster) and then the dogs and I will go up the hill. Stefan has taken to running madly in all directions (as one of our neighbours said, “He’s a mad fool isn’t he?”) and then coming back and gently touching our hand before he dashes off in another direction. It is as though he and Shadow are constantly thanking us for bringing them here. Samson (the cat) is asserting his dominance and superiority by stamping (as only a seven pound cat can stamp) through the house, dashing sometimes up the spiral stairs to the loft or down the main stairs to the glass doors. All in all we are a happy crew.

We also have found very inexpensive ways of making long distance phone calls – for instance we get 900 landline to landline minutes for twenty Euro. At that price we would love to talk with all of you – just let us know what morning works for you. We are between seven and eight hours ahead of you – so mornings work best. Webcams make it all the better because we can then see each other as well.

Lots of love to all,

Alana

Looking back to when we first got here

Hi everyone,

As promised, I am cutting a pasting my early updates here - starting with January and then progressing. I will get them all in today (31 July) so that they will quickly be stored where only the adventurous or truly interested will find them (grin)

25, January 2006

I sit at our couch area, looking out to the rough surf on a fairly grey day. A large seagull just landed on the platform where kayaks tie up during classes. In the background, Margie is varnishing our new closet (built in wardrobe) and has RTE 1 on the radio while she works listening to a mixture of talk and music. Earlier this morning they extensively covered gay rights to cohabitation and it has been recommended that new legislation ensure partner rights by through a registration process.

I have just returned from town where errands went well. There is great satisfaction in finding which stores sell the things we need. For instance coffee beans can be found at Quay foods, a shop of about 300 square feet off of the town square. I was delighted to find out that Kinsale has its own coffee roaster – so fresh roasted coffee it is. The co-op has large bags of dog food – pay inside and drive around back to have them load it from the same place they would load pallets of feed for farm animals. The man at the hardware store and I spent 10 minutes sorting out the hose endings that we need to hook up Margie’s new power washer. Once it gets going she will be in heaven as she sprays down the patio, that has gotten a bit green over the summer. Finally, the grocery store had the ginger root she has been looking for ending the adventure as a satisfactory trip all around.

We came to Ireland needing an automobile and we proceeded to thoroughly investigate the issue. We purchased a small rag with cars for sale and marked the dealers in Cork. Then we asked our neighbors and it turned out that they all buy their cars in Bandon (a larger small town about 17 km away). Off we went and the matter was quickly solved. Tomorrow we pick up our 2003 Maroon Ford Fusion, complete with sunroof. Margie is on the internet figuring out our best moves for registration and insurance. We came to Ireland with international drivers licenses which allow us to put off our driving tests for 6-12 months – this is good as most folks here fail the driving tests, often multiple times. We have heard that it is so bad that gift stores will carry “Sorry you failed” cards along with their birthday selection.

Just before we left I called GlobEx our moving company and they anticipated arrival of our container into Cork harbor on Sat 21 January, 2006 and they gave me the name of Maquire International Movers as the local contact. Dutifully, I called yesterday am only to be told that Maquire wasn’t expecting our load until Feb 13^th. It is now back in the hands of the New Jersey office and we hope to know later today about when we can expect our furniture to arrive. It may work out rather well if the date is February as by then we will be completely settled and ready for the next upheaval. Either way, we sent about half of the furniture on to the apartment so we are now down to the essentials. With a couch, a couple of chairs, a dining room table with chairs and a bed we have all that we need.

Sunday there was a bit of excitement on the hill as hounds, horses and riders descended from the area with the 600 year old James Fort down to our beach and back out through the public car park, that borders the Castlepark property. They weren’t as loud or noisy as you might expect, but our black Labs certainly paid close attention. We had neighbors over for tea later that afternoon and they told us that likely this was not a fox hunt but rather a training exercise where they take a rag, covered with scent and drag it through the area first, setting up a course for hounds and horses to follow. Fox hunting will continue later in the season. Evidently animal activists have created quite a stir about fox hunting in England of late, but the fox seems to have a 50/50 chance that the hounds won’t catch up with them.

We went out Sunday to buy five different newspapers, not because we wanted to compare local coverage of the news, but rather for the goodies contained in each. We made quite a haul: 2 DVD’s, a CD and an international map (in English and in Irish) that maps the endangered species in the world. At the cost of between 1.10 and 1.8 Euro this is cheap entertainment indeed.

Our animals are happy as clams. Not only did they make it through the trip with no problems at all but they are now living in circumstances that match their wildest dreams. For the dogs, they sleep on warm floors and walk at least once a day on the hill above our house. While there are lease laws in Ireland (something we only just heard of) no one enforces them – dogs typically run free on the hill and ours are no exception. The cat has regressed 10 years and is playing with his mouse like a kitten. He also has a better relationship with our dogs than he has displayed before, perhaps because they all went through the trauma of the plane ride together. As we sat on the tarmac in Newark we saw them being loaded on to the front of the plane, the man loading them was speaking soothingly to Shadow while Stefan was barking his head off.

We tried ordering our food online, not that we won’t keep most of our shopping in town, but our neighbors suggested it as a means to ensure we don’t have to go out much, especially on weekends, in the summer. It seems that frequently the traffic on our road is so bad as to inhibit locals from getting into town. Margie ordered online while we watched TV on Monday. What was delivered today was a bit of a shock – the great deal we thought we were getting on a bottle of wine turned out to be a bottle big enough for one glass and the almonds turned out to be ground fine for cooking. The delivery man would not accept a tip – it is a matter of some pride for the Irish that they are well paid and sure “it isn’t necessary” means just that.

I went for my first swim in the bay on Sunday. While I was here in September I found that one three mil wetsuit made it as comfortable as swimming in a pool. Therefore more mils would be necessary at this time of year. To that end we purchased a shorty wetsuit to go over the full bodied one and a hood with torso suit to go over that. These add up to 9 mils over my core, 6 on my head, upper arms and thighs. While getting in was a shock, from which I had to remind myself to breathe, I found this coverage completely adequate and when I got out after 20 minutes it was more because I had done my bit for exercise than because I was so cold I could no longer stand it. Next I will work on my music selection and will try again tomorrow or Thursday. My goal is to swim at least 30 minutes at least 3 times a week.

As I finish writing this first bit of Irish diary I confess that I am learning once again what relaxation feels like. Margie and I regularly remind ourselves that we are not on holiday – that we will not have to return after three weeks as has been the case in the past. As long as we move a bit ahead each day on the multiple strands of tasks: 1) apartment remodel, 2) life at #8 and 3) work required by Jones International University or the Web Based Professional Development Project, then this amount of work seems satisfactory. There are two of us doing these tasks and they seem to unfold naturally.

My diary from the same time says:

We are truly blessed. In fact I cannot imagine that many who have taken the risks involved in moving have found themselves so well ensconced as they landed in their new homes. It is true that we have a minimum amount of furniture left in Castlepark, but we have all we need to be completely comfortable.

The pine dining table serves double duty as our table for eating and as my desk for work. The different contexts for its use are signaled by its placement in the room. It may be snuggled in next to the corner, with cushions on benches on two sides and pine chairs on the other signaling its appropriate use as a table for eating. On the other hand it may be, as it is now, slid far out away from the corner and the cushions so that it almost reaches the kitchen. When it is in this placement I sit at the short end and can turn my head to the right to see the bay.

As I write this it is almost 8am and today should be partially sunny for a while – Margie and I will go swimming while the sun shines. Last night we got started watching the tutorial for the card game Magic: The Gathering. We have several new games with us and jigsaw puzzles will arrive with the container. TV is never a constantly good entertainment so games will give us relaxation in the evenings.

Evenings are longer here – starting about 5pm at this time of year and lasting until just 8am. I find it soothing to have my days cut short. If I can keep my work days to about 5-6 hours (as I was able to do yesterday) then I believe I can keep up this gentle mixture of work and relaxation. This is easier now that it was in the States as I don’t have six people calling me and adding their requests on to my day. I am appreciating this half hermit lifestyle and with it I get to revel in the joy of hanging out with Margie.

She has fixed up the loft to suit her – which suits me as well, so she takes care of much of her business from there. She has taken on the tasks such as updating insurances and paying off utilities on the apartment, registering the car, etc. She also has time to cook, and as we explore the Core foods from the Weight watchers list I am eating better, with more satisfaction, at the same time I am losing a few pounds. If I can just keep the exercise up my body will naturally trim to a healthy weight.

We had our first dinner party the night before last as our friend Louise Tobin came to join us. Margie and I had spent the afternoon out and about picking up the car and returning the rental and arrived home at 5:30 needing to prepare for a 7pm dinner. I have never enjoyed cooking with someone else in the kitchen as it has always before lead to getting in each others way – not so with this kitchen. We can each take a side for most of our work and when tools we need are on the other one’s side it becomes a dance – not a boxing match! A lot can be said for extra counter space and an easy nook into which the sink sits, allowing Margie to face slightly at a different angle to the kitchen so our butts don’t bump as we move around.

The table was set with many loving gestures from our friends. My sister’s candle sticks, plates and bowels from our friends Alice and Maggie, our water pitcher from our friend Sunniva, candles from Louise who was our guest and flowers from Louise who is by oldest friend from Denver. Everything we set out not only looked well together but was a symbol of people who care for us – again we are blessed to have some of these things available during the time that we settle in. I imagine that in most cases these treasures come much later and that the first few days of settling in are made due with things in furnished apartments or hotel suites.

The reinvention process at that time was going well (big grin).
Alana