It is inevitable when I talk to
friends back home in the states, they ask what is different over there? That is
a really hard question because at the core of it, Ireland is not that different
than the Midwest back home, but there are a TON of small differences, most of
which I revel in. I don’t look at anything as “we do it the right way, you do
it the wrong way,” for me it is just different, like driving on the other side
of the road on the other side of the car. Not a big deal unless someone is
coming at you from the other direction then you get angry looks and honks…True
story.
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| Check out those clouds! Maybe rain! |
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| Ohhhh! Mountains AND driving on the other side of the road! |
During the first week I occasionally forgot this, usually when I was
panicked on a small road. In the states if you meet someone on a one lane road
you pull to the right and let them pass. In Ireland if you pull to the right
they look at you like you’re absolutely crazy. Sadly for the first month I
would absolutely panic if I was on a small road and another car came my way,
sheer terror, I WAS GOING TO DIE (yes we’re back to that), or at least wreck
the car. Now I only have mild palpitations and usually remember what side of
the road is the correct side to pull off on. That is what I call progress my
friends, 6 months and now only mild panic and much smaller swerves! This also
may be due to the fact that I actually did wreck the car and didn’t die.
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| This is what hit me! Go big or go home, huh? |
Yep, 2 weeks into my new country and
I totaled a car! Good news is it was totally not my fault, but when I do
something I do it all the way, and usually when Matt is out of town. Matt had a
meeting in Switzerland (yep, %&$*! 2 weeks in the country he abandons me to
frolic with cows in Switzerland!) that was planned before we moved over. The
original plan would have put us in Ireland at the end of May or the beginning
of June and he took off at the end of the month, instead we arrived June 17th,
half way through the month meaning he was leaving 2 weeks later. I’m pretty
sure this was strategically planned because this was also when our 32 boxes
were scheduled to arrive so he got out of box duty as well. So the Friday he
got back I was on my way back to Cork stopped in traffic when a Semi-truck
(they call it a Lorry, see subtle differences) plowed into the back of my
little Toyota Yaris Verso. BOOM! Glass flying everywhere but due to my seatbelt
I didn’t go anywhere. I pop out of my
car, a bit shell shocked but didn’t want to be the ugly American screaming
curse words at the other driver like I normally would. So I kept my cool and
hopped out to survey the damage.
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| Crunch! |
About this time a man driving the opposite
direction pulled up screaming, “Take my number!” I had no idea who this person was or why I
wanted his number. “TAKE MY NUMBER!!!” I finally stammered, “Why?” He then
proceeds to tell me I’ve been in an accident. Well yes, this was clearly
something I understood since my car was missing most of its back end, but why
do I want your number??? “As a witness!
I saw the whole thing!” WOW! So this guy screaming at me is doing so because
he’s an awesome Good Samaritan who is going to act as a witness in case I need
one? So I put his number into my phone as “Witness” because he never gave me
his name.
Ok, so I
could now call a witness but since I was so new to the country I had no idea
how to call the cops! Do you call the cops here when there is a no injury
accident? The Lorry driver got out as well and looked like he couldn’t be a day
over 18 years old. We decided to get off the road and pull into the nearby gas
station (petrol station), but I have no idea what the protocol is for car
accidents in Ireland. Something strange about me is rather than go into all out
panic when stuff happens; I get very calm and usually can get through without
too much drama. Let me set the scene for you as to why this is important. I
have been in the country for 2 weeks, my husband is in another country, and the
only other person’s phone number I know is my boss who is on holiday
(vacation), ICBF (no one is answering), and I don’t even know how to call the
cops to report this, I am all on my own on this one. The lorry driver kept apologizing which was
sweet, but I was more interested in getting pictures and insurance information
and following appropriate protocol for accidents in another country even though
I didn’t know what that protocol was.
Finally after the 10th time of the kid saying, “He had such a
fright” when HE hit ME the ugly American reared its ugly head and I told him
that I wasn’t crying or freaking out, was all alone in this country, and he
needed to MAN UP so we could get this done. So much for hiding my ugly American, but you
hit ME, why are you scared? Oh well, he was a nice boy and after talking to his
boss, exchanging insurance information, and taking a number of pictures,
finally getting ahold of Matt, who was in a Swiss Airport, and crying
hysterically at him for about 5 minutes (I loose composure when I am finally
out of danger), I limped home in my smushed car. 5 hours later the guy that hit me called just to make sure I got home OK. This is why I love living here!
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| Another example of wonky driving in Cork. That is a Horse Box (aka horse trailer) made out of plywood driving around the city |
You
may or may not know this, but it rains in Ireland, a lot, so having no back
window in my car was a bit of concern. I figured no one was going to try to
steal it in that condition nor did I believe people did steal in this country
at the time, so now what? Enlist the help of my brand new neighbors! Ben and
Mary are the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. He is German and grew up
during WWII and restores WWII era motorcycles, Mary is Irish, an Ex-physiotherapist
(not fully sure what this is) and they met in Canada. Over the past 6 months
we’ve been to their house a few times with the intention of “just stopping by”
and end up there for hours because they really are the coolest neighbor in the
whole world. Mary has even helped me learn to knit though I’m still really
awful at it. Anyways, back to my sadly damaged car. I went next store to
request a tarp I could use to block the window. Tarp didn’t translate,
apparently the full word is Tarpaulin and that is what I required. A bit later
Ben showed up with some heavy duty plastic and proceeded to help me tape it
into my car. Have I mentioned I love these people? Earlier in the week all of our boxes showed
up at the house, all 32 of them. A man in a truck showed up at my house, picked
up the pallets and dropped them in my driveway. Some of the boxes were in good
shape, other… Well, let’s just say they were not fully intact and were leaking
items out of them including a small laptop and a pair of tweezers which the
truck driver astutely pointed out was probably for my eyebrows. Guess I was
looking a bit rough…
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| The stacks. All 32 boxes, my whole life except for a 10X10 storage unit in Sedalia |
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| Huh, Guess this one was checked by Customs? Pretty sure nothing was missing, but I guess I'll never know |
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| My two favorite mugs and a couple picture frames were casualties to the move :-( I got these at the Maryland Ren Fest and don't think I'll ever have others like them. Sadness! |
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| Broken mug, broken heart |
Since
Matt was out of town, Ben came out and supervised the whole thing to make sure
the guy didn’t try any funny stuff and then offered to lend me their hand truck
(dolly) and a hand if I need it but there was no way I was going to ask my
adorable 80 year old neighbor to help me lug in these boxes into the house.
This left me with 2 options, wait 2 days until Matt got back and have him help
me bring all the boxes in or pull on my big girl pants and do it all myself.
With the possibility of rain, and the uncertainty as to which boxes held
electronics, I decided to bring them all in myself. After retrieving the hand
truck I realized there was a small issue, actually 2 small issues. Steps
leading into the door don’t work really well with a dolly. So off I went to B
&Q (Irish Home Depot, same color scheme and everything!) to get a ramp, aka
a big piece of plywood. After eye balling the length of board I needed so that
the angle of incline wasn’t too much (can you tell I’m an engineer’s daughter?)
I found what I needed, struggled to shove it into our clown car and back home
to haul the boxes in. Again, pretty sure Matt planned this trip on
purpose… 3 hours later I had all the
boxes inside in a giant pile in the office/dining room and could commence
operation Christmas in June, aka unpacking all my worldly goods I forgot I had.
By the time Matt got home all but 5 boxes had been unpacked and we had a mostly
put together house. I was feeling pretty accomplished and good about my first
time alone in this new country until 2 days later when I got hit by the truck.
Eh, I got a newer car out of it and it makes for an entertaining story, so not
so bad, and I get to look at this nearly every day.
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