chocolate-covered strawberry

air

2009-06-19T00:40:00.003+02:00

my bedroom is a 98+° oven. i'm aware that can barely bake a brownie, but still it's got my white batter looking for a 9x13 inch pan.
the point of this heat intro is that i discovered a divine source of heat-repellent -aka air conditioning- in the islamic library yesterday...
and my last exam is tomorrow.

to think i've been jordin sparks-ing all this time with the islamic icebox a 15-minute venture away.

where was my sense a month ago?

caution

2009-05-29T00:52:00.005+02:00

today i was just walking on the sidewalk minding my pedestrian business when suddenly... a van cut me off.
i was not aware that four-wheeled things are considered pedestrians, too.

huele a...

2009-05-23T00:35:00.010+02:00

thunderstorrrrrrrrrrrrm !!!!
*click here for the audio-enhanced version of this blog*

it's been a long week of 32° stagnate city heat, so yesssssssss señor notus, bringer of the storms,

bring on the aguacero,
blow that brisa through my window,
bedazzle that sky with relámpago,
and blast that thunder crack all night long.

*__*

grumble

2009-05-19T02:00:00.006+02:00

it is 1:59 am...

and the garbage trucks are playing their favorite nightly game of dinosaurs at war outside my window. (seriously, how else do you describe garbage collection at this hour?)

it is 2:04 am...

and a t-rex has called a cease-fire.

in other noise news :

the birds battle it out with the walk signs at dawn. (the walk signs here either "chirp" until the little green midget turns red, or make you feel like you should be dodging turtles and looking for mario in the crosswalk.)
hammerings resound from the remodeling above... below... & next to... my apartment before i'd actually like to be awake.
the echoing clamor of recess filters pompously through my window from the elementary school next door.
the vile pitch of a flute an old man on a bike uses to announce his arrival to the neighboring apartment building sounds most mornings. (i was under the impression that this crescendoing doodlee-doodlee-doo squawk was a cell phone alarm in the house until i stepped out early one morning and witnessed the matinee.)

fond of falling asleep to dinosaur war and waking up to squawk i am not. but it wouldn't surprise me if i found myself youtube-ing the sounds back in madison next year as some sort of twisted nostalgic comfort. ayyyyomá .

pimpin

2009-05-16T13:39:00.009+02:00

on tuesdays and thursdays i scoot my wonderfully functioning feet 12 minutes southeastward to be buzzed into building 4 and assume the role of "profesora de ingles" for julia and leo. lately, leo's desired tuesday lesson has been translating the songs generated by the mating of linkin park & jay-z in 2004. jooope tio, i don't even understand that combination. what i've come to understand of this powercouple is something like:
"under the surface it's all H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A, fo'shizzle my nizzle unsed to dribble down in VA. yo. i've become so numb. uh. who do you know fresher than hov? pain, ouch, bleeding, depresssssion are some of my 99 problems... and a bitch aint one."
julia, of course, would rather just watch an episode of hannah montana or play me claire de lune on the recorder. but hands down, these two are the best of both worlds. my alotted teaching time is 90 minutes, but i often find myself still hanging out 90 minutes + 90 minutes later, helping julia with her homework, giving leo pointers on his breakdance moves (ha, what do i know?), eating dinner fam-fashion, or haciendo the miscellaneous. for example, i once found myself in the living room drinking piña coladas with bea and leopoldo (mom and dad) as they told me the history of how beapoldo came to be. the family has simply adopted me and given me a big allowance. i feel more like a big sister being paid to teach her siblings that it isn't really okay to speak with the shizzles and nizzles of jayzinkin park or the sweet niblits or dag-flabits of miss montana.
--
this thursday i went to julia and leo's elementary school to watch leo in a performance of la zarzuela. hmph, how to explain that? watch this... and then replace the actors with 10 year olds lip-synching to the same voices. heh, can't beat a 10 year old from which appears to be exiting voice of a 47-year village pimp.
although you should really watch this, to better understand what this looks like, here's a linkless- anti-extra-clicking explanation. the zarzuela is spanish musical theater originated in madrid during king felipe iv's reign in the 1600s that mixes opera and traditional dance. it is performed a lot during the festival san isidro, the party for the patron saint of madrid. yes, the madrileños took their saintly legend san isidro and turned him into a excuse for a giant fiesta. of course we should drink to the impoverished farm workers who gave food to the poor.
it is common to see madrileños, well ok mostly the niños for their school productions, puttering around madrid at this time dressed as chulos and chulapas, traditional folk costumes that are worn in the zarzuela.after the chulos and chulapitas zarzuela production at julia and leo's school, 17 of us ended up at VIPs for dinner (VIPs would be the equivalent of something like the dairy queen's and denny's classy child). in VIPS, an undercover thanksgiving presented itself to me as i had to choose between the "adult table" or the "kids table". well... easy. who had the crayons?

after dinner i exited VIPS into the adult world to meet 4 friends for a drink, in an irish bar, where the famous comedian enrique san francisco was also getting liquidly happy.
a-men madrid.

apparently...

2009-05-12T20:40:00.004+02:00

...if you're about 6 years old and at recess in the park, it's quite okay to tree-water with your pants pulled down. i mean come on, your teacher ignoring you gives you the automatic pass-go, the grandmas giggling allow you the "i don't know any better" excuse, and even your cootied-girl classmate observes your act with a silently acceptant curiosity.

in spain, recess mola.

*dedicated to the non-fearing potty-trained man i passed on my way to school today.

baking

2009-05-08T18:23:00.011+02:00

normally if i see a construction worker taking a timeout here they're sitting on a scrap piece of concrete to feast on a sandwich or nicotine stick, occasionally ch-ch-ing at the beautifully-featured females that walk by.

today...

i saw a construction worker passed out in a wheelbarrow.

either there was excess inhilation of concrete residuum from that sidewalk project, or it's... just... getting... hot.

*update 18.05.09 --there are no external factors. this construction worker is just perpetually asleep on whatever's most convenient to lay on (or in) at 3 pm every day. viiiva la siesta.

overdue

2009-04-02T03:06:00.006+02:00

i've never really talked about school, and well, maybe it might be good to confirm the fact that i am in fact enrolled in one in this continent.

the complutense is one of the best public universities in spain. but things are just a little... different here.

general observations about a semester and a 1/2 old news:

-clocks are private property only. they are not to be found anywhere except the shrunk ones, on bands adorning human wrists in various degrees of color and shine.

-printer ink is like a constantly hungover student. like, sometimes it makes it to school.

-no-smoking signs are code for "well whatever, just try not to be caught ok?" the choice to smoke is a complete monopoly chance card whose consequence is a "take it outside" reprimand. but oh, a complete "pass go" for professors.

-sometimes i feel like i'm watching the graffiti scene from free willy on constant rewind... it just never stops here. but i've only witnessed it actually happen once. these grafartists are good.

-the buildings are pretty... we'll say vintage. however, in between the buildings in which i have class are 2 immaculate brand new buildings separated by a weird zone of mazed shrubs and benches and what appear to be portals to another world.
it's like falling into a sci-fi wonderland on the walk in between classes. speaking of wonderland, alice never would've got there had she been on the complutense campus originally. no clocks, and well, where are you hiding the rabbits, spain? the pigeon wildlife is getting a little old. i mean, come on, i've seen the same limping pigeon twice now. lame.

ok, ok done with the awkward sci-fi and wonderland combination.

the classes:

so last semester i studied feminisim in spanish literature, took a crack at spanish theater, improved my sintax, and attempted to follow a chaotic presentation of security and defense in europe since 1945.

this semester?

-spanish dialectology with a man who sounds like professor snape. sometimes i wish he'd stop talking about open vowels and aspirated h's and just show us how to bottle fame, brew glory and stopper death.

-historical and cultural perspective of islam in spain with the jolly and renowned andaluz juan m.q. he refuses to be able to give class for the full 90 minutes or take attendance, but somehow in the reduced class session and story-breaks, why, successful learning does occur. si señor.

-ethnology of mexico and central america with mr. gutierrez. a daily bow-tied man with more experience and genius than he probably knows what to do with. his prefered teaching position is crosslegged, dangling his almost non-existent ankles to the tune of his deep philosophical tangents, which, often involve godparenthood, latinamerican legends, and drawers. man, is this man fond of drawers for ascension metaphors. 2 days ago i found my notes about societal ascension looking like a cake... so naturally, i felt obliged to decorate it with frosting roses and candles. and while i try to take this class seriously, it often poses challenging since profe gutierrez happens to be the identical twin of professor porter from tarzan...

-spanish literature & film is taught by a man with a dry sense of humor who speaks to us via mic... which has me hoping he'll just break out into stand-up someday. the class itself consists of reading a novel weekly followed by the viewing of the film. our professor openly admits the novels lack... well, what makes a good novel, but of course we read them because of "how they've been adapted to film". anyway, by the time the class is finished i'll have read 5 novels in spanish, and conquered don quixote. well, ok, read most of them anyway.

-history of contemporary islam. my favorite class by far. mrs. soha abboud scares me, but in the best way possible. on monday, i was called on in a complutense class for the first time ever... to explain the ba'ath party. i never expected the ba'ath party would carry a personal stigma for me, but now that it was my first calling-on answer ever... oh man, how things change. soha often rolls a: "rrrrright?" in my direction after stating a fact in class, looking for confirmation i have comp-re-hended. it's rrrrrefreshing to know she cares about the non-spanish population in class, something that is not always consistent throughout complutense classes. anyway, this will be the last class i finish this year, handing in a 15 page paper on the iraqi revolution and x-aming up on june 19th. yujuu.

s'more

2009-02-24T21:53:00.018+01:00

first of all, i'd like to commemorate the consumption of my first chocolate-covered strawberry in spain. i have now literalized my blog title. chachi.

second of all, i have a new metaphor:
madrid is a deranged barber.
yesterday morning i woke up to chainsaws hacking away the hair of all the trees surrounding my apartment complex. as of now i can not say i live in a pleasant tree-lined neighborhood. no señor. i live in a neighborhood lined with roasting forks covered in burnt marshmallow goo. i hope the woody perennials grow their hair back soon, otherwise i am going to start going to the trees with an openfaced graham-cracker chocolate sandwich hoping that they deliver the missing s'more ingredient.

en tercer lugar, i don't advise translating green-day songs from english to spanish with 12-year-olds. you will end up with ridiculous drawings instead of definitions
to describe vocabulary such as 'redneck'.

you will laugh however when finally, your student pulls a confederate civil-war hat from mini-hollywood in almería out from beind their bedroom door because they have understood 'rebel' from your explanation.

lastly, i need to find a support group for people against the 'ch-ch' catcall. no offense guys, for you have come far in your evolution, but there are still some of your species who resort to whispering senseless stoneage sounds to express their attraction to the opposite gender. the filtering-in of spring heat waves and the appearance of my "exotic" long strawberry-blonde hair in the outdoors have punished my head lately with with the 'ch-ch' aches. where is the ch-chibuprofen?
please, por favor and vã rog ch-ch-ers worldwide, find your oo-oo's and choo-choo your trains back to 'a little respect' elementary.
leave the ch-ch for the dogs.

111

2009-02-19T00:57:00.005+01:00

on tuesday, i was lucky enough to catch 5th floor grandpa on the homestretch to our apartment building. in our exuberant 30 meter stroll to the door, i found out that we share the 17th of february as our special day of age, cake & gift aquirement. but of course, being born in 1919 and all, the man has me beat by a showy pile of 69 cakes.
to celebrate the fun, we pretended to be abuelo & nieta when unknown neighborlady from floor 2 entered the elevator. i don't know how she came about to believe that a blue-eyed strawberry blonde could've been produced in alicante 21 years ago, but me & grandpa gave away the secret anyway so i could be honestly introduced.
and now this anecdote ends, with grandpa leaving the elevator at floor 5 and reminding me that his wife and him are so much more content to have my roommates and me living above them than those "noisy filippinos".

happy 111th birthday to us.

fly.

2009-02-16T22:06:00.004+01:00

today was a great day.
lola and sara, my 8 and 9 year old frenemies, were punished last week by mom inc. for behaving bad in our english lesson. needless to say, i've never heard more english trump the spanish and french that normally cascades unrelentlessly from their always opened mouths.

anyway, today i brought a bag of magnetic poetry to our lesson and had them form sentences from the hundreds of magnets we strewed across the dining room table.
busy looking for their select words of choice, i oh-so-cruelly kept them thinking constructively in english and forming brilliant sentences, which were not limited to the following:

"the prince is horrible"

"the monkey is in the garden"

"she is from galoshes" (obviously the planet, not the boots)

and my absolute favorite...

"she is fly"

how do you explain to a 9 year old that the sentence she just formed has an urbandictionary context of "damn! honey is lookin fly in her thong and boots!" >?

you don't.

you laugh.
you giggle.
you randomly realize that sara still has years before she'll catch the adult jokes in finding nemo...

and then you help her change it to the present progressive: "she is flying"

and then comes mom with strawberry suckers for everyone.

amen.

bananas

2009-02-05T00:16:00.017+01:00

1) it snowed big copos again in madrid this sunday.
to make things even more homesweethome, a cow statue exhibit has been installed throughout madrid until april.
wisconsin, porfa,
stop pursuing me!!

2) i've never thought about declaring my fidelity to a banana before,
but living with 3 canary islanders means, in the house,
canary bananas only.

3) my guessable nationality has checked out of the US & assumed life in the UK.
ahmm, what does that mean?

random man in the street: "pasa, pasa wapa!"
me: (minding my own business as i powerwalk by)
random man: (shouting to me as our distance rapidly increases)
"ey! wapa! eres inglesa?"
me: (stopping suddenly, shocked i wasn't singled out as "the american" as first choice)
"no"
random man: (puzzled) eres española?
me: (giggling inside) "no, de chicago!"
(yes, i lie about my origins. but hombre, it saves me the whole ridiculous display of "this is my palm which is actually a great spatial representation of my home state, and oh look! on this vein rests my hometown!" story)
and finally, the random man's 80 something father yells with an acceptant fist shaking: "Obamaa!!"

i spose in the end we're really just all the same, mate.
cheery-o.

4) on tuesday, my professor casually revealed his celebrity status to our class with
something like:
"pues nada, on saturday i'm going to drink tea with ahmedinejad. i have to leave my tie at home though, they don't wear them in tehran."

--ostraaas!--

apparently the irani government will opt to award you with prizes, tea & company if you write an agreeably outstanding book on their country.
the brilliant profe juan m.q. jokingly promised a class-round of heineken if...
the irani prize turns out to be monetary.

i like school.

5) don't ever
take your dryer, heater, printer, toaster or vanilla extract
for granted.

6) finally, if you've been dying to know, here's how to order durum kebap in turkish:
peynirli dürüm alabiliymyim lütfen

--

paz y amor tio.

makebelieve...

2009-02-04T19:11:00.008+01:00

Dear Stage,
For 9 years you spotlighted my ballets, highlighted my flashy jazz costumes, and presented me to the world as a convincing Wizard of Oz scarecrow. For almost 3 years I have left you to explore the academic world & its' bleak lecture halls & nocturnal paper-writing processes.
I have missed you, and I thank you for taking me back this January to perform the final piece for my theater class.
I hope I have made you proud once again.

Un saludo de maquillaje y brillantina,
Emily

On January 23rd, I made my comeback as the toothfairy in a play written by my professor.
l
l
V

Presenting:
SOL EDAD ES

"Coleccionistas de dientes" (Francisco Olmedo)

Starring:

Ratón Peréz (Spanish "toothfairy") -------------------Philippe Garza
Toothfairy------------------------------------------Emily Kaney

--
I never envisioned taking on the role of the toothfairy in my college career,
but I have left my Semester I theater class's final production confirmed that
1) make believe is still 147% okay with me...
and
2) after 9 years of dancing, and almost 3 years sabbatical,
the stage is still where my heart is.

* * *

2009-01-09T12:54:00.004+01:00

SNOWING in Madrid !!

-the highways are in crisis (aka 11 kilometers average back-up),
-salt is being distributed via wheelbarrows,
-grandmas are standing robed and slippered in their doorways taking pictures,
-barajas airport is "suspending services",

...and everyone has their umbrellas out to protect theirselves.

como me encanta
--

yellow

2008-11-25T01:25:00.004+01:00

Why I remember the waist-lengthed haired & bearded guy standing in front of me in the metro more than a month ago I can't say. Probably the doublemint fun waist-length hair and beard.
And probably the yellow shirt.
And the matching yellow pants.

Well most likely, the yellow pants.

But why on my random 8ish-pm walk home from the metro tonight was it willed that I cross paths with the once hairy banana wannabe dressed in regular jeans and a shirt...

...when I was dressed in the bright banana-yellow dress ?

*cue the alanis and gwen stefani remix*
(if there was one)
isn't it ironic, don't you think...
it's like...
madriiiiiid, is bananas.
b-a-n-a-n-a-s.

Excerpts from a 12 year old's English textbook

2008-11-14T18:21:00.004+01:00

You know you're learning the real-deal English when...

1) Your textbook includes a lesson on text message abbreviations, including, but not limited to, "BOYF, ILUVU & RUOK?"

2) The middle of your textbook includes a passage entitled "The Vikings Liked Music".

3) Even better yet, your "past simple, negative, questions and short answers" grammar lesson 6 is based on the scene "Did you kiss her?" featuring Steve and Rosie. To elaborate for the sake of juicy english textbook gossip:

Rosie: Did you put your arm around Sara?

Steve: No I didn't! I helped her with the quiz machine, that's all.

Rosie: And did you kiss her?

Steve: No of course I didn't! She had something in her eye and I...

--
(Yeah, ok Steve. We all know you just didn't have the balls.)
--

4) On top of grammar lesson 6, grammar lesson 8 allows you to "talk about possessions and ask about prices" with the enlightening dialog between Sara and Anne, "Has he got a girlfriend?":

Sara: Can you help me? I want to buy a present for Steve.

Anne: For Steve? Why?

Sara: I like him a lot- he's fun.

...(Sara and Anne browse through CDs. Sara settles on Love Songs from Mexico)...

Anne: Let's see, Love Songs from Mexico. Hmm. What's Steve's girlfriend going to say?

Sara: Girlfriend?? Has he got a girlfriend??!

--

En fin, the only colorful lessons my Spanish textbooks ever gave me were those accompanied by photos of pure 80s fashion in it's golden age. Or, of course, the more "modern" 1990s video series adventure of untamed fro-ed and brace-faced Jamie pursuing the legend of her Mexican bisabueeeela, La Catrina. (And if you weren't a high school Spanish student, I apologize for the complete lack of nostalgia this short blurb has failed to instill.)

--

life is...

2008-10-24T16:17:00.006+02:00

...charming

--when--

you wake up to a 7:25 am text message from a Spanish friend "singing" you:

My dream, is to fly, over the rainbow SO high.

Love is in the air.. Nananananana.

...laughable

--when--

you suddenly realize mid-metro commute that your shirt is inside out...

but the "fashion" is totally justified by the hair of the tio standing next to you
aka:
he's sporting a dreaded mullet,
and
a foot-long rattail

...ironic

--when--

you've spent the entirity of a 1.5 hour lecture discussing the Catholic Church's ideology that the woman is eternally condemned to sin when it's the Catholic priest that just flashed you a perverse smile while walking to your next class...

"It's like rain on your wedding day,

It's a free ride when you've already paid,

It´s the good advice that you just didn't take,

Who would've thought ... it figures."

redheads: the endangered species

2008-10-23T18:19:00.008+02:00

People have asked --so just to clarify-- my blog's title does not insinuate any other situation except the one where I'm a strawberry blonde lost in a population overwhelmingly% brunette. I guess not so much lost any more, I mean come on, navigation is not rocket science here. 12 metro lines that get you anywhere for 1€, free easy transfers, and a functioning bus heaven. And by heaven I mean in contrast to the bus hell which is Madison public transportation. De todos modos, what this blurb comes down to is that I'm pigmently outnumbered.

"The way things are going, red hair will either be extremely rare or extinct by the end of the century." -Dr. John Gray, Oxford Hair Foundation

Times when it's okay to stand out:

1) You're the only "Emily" in your class & your professor's had such a hard time pronouncing it the first time that they can't forget it, or you. Or maybe it's just that you're a redhead.

2) Your Spanish friends have never had an easier time finding someone in a crowded bar or metro station.

3) It gets you real original nicknames... like... oh, Novia de Spiderman (Spiderman's girlfriend).

Times when it's not so cute:

1) Metro eagles.
My term for the people who often stare at me with a displeased expression of "why has your endangered species just seated itself across from me on this metro car?"
Often old ladies.

-or the opposite of the metro eagle-

Metro wolf.

ex) the sudoko-ing man sitting across from me on the metro who followed me when I walked to the other end of the car to greet a friend... and moved to the seat directly in front of me after my friend left.

2) Requires extra caution when taking part in a botellon.

3) Walking into a overwhelmingly eumelanin packed bar trying your hardest to pretend you're not the extraterrestra (alien).

Scene I, Act I

Chus: "I noticed when you walk in, all eyes go to you, I know."

Emily: helpless face

Chus: "Ok well when you are in trouble,

wink me.

I know what to do."

Scene I, Act II

Local campus bar, about 3:00 am.

A Spanish creeper catches a glimpse of a flaring blonde-redlike head across the room and advances towards it. Upon reaching his destination, he attempts to rico suave his hands around the waist of the red haired girl. But before long the creeper catches the girl winking her right eye and is suddenly pushed aside by her boyfriend, Chus Gonzalez. ''Shit," the creeper reflects as he retreats to the other side of the bar to stare some more from behind his inebriated pupils.

Final thoughts:

Never have I been happier with the outcome of a wink than when it results in my self-appointed bodyguard (Chus) rushing to my side as my ever-convincing "boyfriend" to ward off the unwanted.

blissful derangement

2008-10-21T21:22:00.006+02:00

2 September 08 11:30 - 16 September 08 20:00ish

Who: Ana & Chus

What: Stopped me for a signature.

When: After I walked timidly through their circle of Spanairds a couple days into the dorm experience.

Where: In my hallway on the way to my dorm room.

Why: Twenty signatures would force their friend to create a tuenti account.

Result: Infiltrated into the Spainard circle.

AKA: Life never to be the same again.

The next 2 weeks were composed of the following:

1) intensive course from 9-1, lunch from 2-3:30, dinner from 9:30-10:45

(note: dinner was always accompanied by someone approaching me with the line

'the cheese in wisconsin is the best')

2) spending too much time surfing internet ads for an apartment.

3) nightly 2nd floor fiesshta. i.e. loud rock, heavy metal or salsa music mixed with alcohol, random soccer ball passings, youtube video viewings, stolen-from-the-cafeteria croissant burnings, etc.

-or-

nightly patio botellons whose end was determined by the night guard.

4) walking 2 streets to iron bar from 1-3ish...

5)...crossing over to cabalah bar from 3ish to 5ish/6ish

6) returning back to the dorms after a long night of smoke osmosis for a quick hangout and a 5ish/6ish am shower.

7) hating my 8:00 alarm clock with a passion deeper than any i've known in my life.

8) habitually repeating steps 1 through 7.
--

I have never been more thankful that someone has asked me for my signature. Although it indirectly led to suffering through my 9 and 10 am Spanish political and art history classes, I still pulled off a father-commended 'absolutely fantastico' AB and found myself a happy place to live. But more importantly, I've made friends who still welcome me back with an enthusiastic 2 besos and "hombre!! que tal?!"

Dedicated to:
Chus, David, Ana, Miguel, Álex, Rafa, Tito, Hacha, Giorgio, Carmen, Irene, Trino, Chechu, Kotrina, Hightower, Chiu, Feder, Émory

First Night

2008-10-15T13:33:00.003+02:00

1 September 2008 post 20:00-ish

I arrived in Madrid sometime after 8 pm & waited for pure eternity for my 'HEAVY' hockey bag and small green rolley to carrousel themselves around to my luggage cart. The entire time I had the pleasure of standing next to 2 little Spirish children who clearly had been deprived of a nap, and whose Irish father and Spanish mother took alternating turns scolding them in their respective languages. I eventually had the chance to walk away from the situation with all luggage accounted for and confirmation in the fact that it's always the brother's fault :)

Javi greeted me and my luggage cart, thankfully wearing an AIESEC t-shirt for easy identification haha. We headed oustide and I took my first steps into a parking lot I had stood in 3 years ago. But this time I wasn't headed for a tour bus with an English-speaking tour guide.

The car ride back to Javi's was a jet-lagged combination of blowing the dust off my Spanish and an ever-increasing feeling of deja vu. I had spent 3 years based off a 2 week high school experience set on returning to Spain... and finally I was back.

Javi's dad, brother, Antonio, and sister-in-law-to-be, Blanca greeted me at the Oliva apartment. A quick tour of the house and instruction on my metro transporation for the following morning later we were all seated street-side sharing shrimp, salad, croquetas, pan and beer. Post 10:00 dinner time officially initiated.

Needless to say, I slept quite well until the sunshine reminded me it was time to shower, dress, breakfast and catch the metro to the dorm I'd be staying in for the next 2 weeks.

2008-10-13T22:42:00.017+02:00

I'm about 44 days behind.

es decir... let's rewind.

31 August 2008 3:32 to 1 September 14:12

As usual I refused to pack until the last possible moment & consequently was still trying to figure out how to get my hockey-bag-of-choice to lose 10 pounds while en route to O'Hare. By some divine leprechaun magic my luggage managed to weigh in at Aer Lingus' exact 80 lb. weight limit and escaped through the carrousel flap with only a slap of a bright-orange 'HEAVY' tag.

The Kaney family (minus my Purdue-d brother) then proceeded to grab a goodbye lunch from the O'Hare food court. The on break-ing tsa agent at the adjoining table graciously pointed out the large knife halfly concealed by a foreign woman standing meters away:

"That type of knife will pass through security if no one sees it," he reassured my already nervous mother.

5 claps for security.

Perhaps the fear-implanting image of the knife... or maybe that I was leaving for a year... inspired the winningest gold-medal family hugs of my lifetime. But before I could catch a glimpse of anyone's tears I lost myself in the security line & continued on to join the rowdy group of 20-something Irish chicos at the Aer Lingus gate.

I arrived in Dublin a whole 5 minutes early and shot off to catch the direct bus into Dublin City Centre as soon as the customs stamp released me.

My 8 hours of Ireland playtime were ticking.

I wasn't particularly tempted to skip into a pub to get sozzled off some scoops by my lonesome for the sake of it being "authentically Irish"

... even if it would be the last time for a while that my hair color wouldn't alienize me in a bar setting.

Instead I opted to keep my feet occupied exploring the humbly overcast streets from O'Connell to Grafton...

stopping for a bench break in St. Stephen's Green...

and lalala-ing over to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells.

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I don't know if I was expecting to find some deep connection to my Irish heritage in my 8 hour Dublin romp... or perhaps casually bump into my future Irish husband as my grandma (nee McWhiney) has already happily consented to...

...but mmm no such "luck".

Looks like I have to go back with some squidders in the back burner and search for the fellet some other day.

Top dollar.
:)