Events that Shook the World

In honor of the upcoming Foyle Film Festival, I would like to dedicate this post to ‘Events that Shook the World.’ Or, more accurately, my world, since I am clearly the center of this universe/blogosphere. If you’ve read a little bit about my transition to Northern Ireland, you will hopefully have realized that here, nothing is immediate. Last month, my blog could have concluded with the words “And then the Earth cooled.” So, if you were to rank the events of the past couple of weeks on the Richter scale of world-shaking magnitude, I’d give them about a 6.5. Somewhere between a hand grenade and Haiti, and obviously, without the death and destruction.

The proverbial butterfly effect was the arrival of Ben’s medical card in the mail last week. When we entered the waiting room at Clarendon Medical Center to register Ben with the General Practitioner over a month ago, my first thought was that the plague had hit Derry. These patients were not suffering from your common colds and sniffles. These were some seriously sick people. Feeling like the lone survivors of some global medical epidemic, Ben and I watched the ticker until his name appeared. Despite some confusion over how Ben was supposed to provide a urine sample (Apparently, Ben was supposed to bring it to the doctor in hand, in his own container. Northern Ireland never ceases to amaze us.), the appointment went well and Ben was ‘registration accepted’ in a mere ten minutes. Although I think we will be self-medicating from now on, the arrival of the medical card means that Ben and I both have free health insurance and will be able to see the General Practitioner whenever the plague spreads to us.

The first little ripple came in the way of our cell phone service. After more than a dozen visits to the Vodafone store, a couple of phone calls to their customer service, and a visit to an independent retailer, Ben and I had learned a number of things about the mobile phone system here in the UK. In order: 1) you cannot get a monthly mobile or internet plan without a UK bank account 2) you must have proof of residence to get a UK bank account 3) a school reference letter is the only valid proof of residence for non-UK citizens who rent from a private landlord 4) even with a UK bank account, you will not pass a credit check for a cell phone until your money has been transferred into the account 5) Even with money in the account, you will not pass a credit check unless you are registered on the electoral roll 6) Even if you have done all of these things, you will not pass a credit check for a cell phone in the UK unless you have been a resident here for at least three years. As we couldn’t get a monthly plan, we decided to reevaluate Vodafone’s pay-as-you-go options. Eureka moment ensued. Not a single customer service representative ever asked us if we were going to be making local or international calls. Instead, all of them had sold us an international pay-as-you go plan, making our local calls extremely expensive. Last week, Ben and I switched to a new Vodafone pay-as-you-go program which will give us 300 minutes of UK calling, 3000 UK texts and 50 MB of data on my Blackberry for 20 pounds per month. Not only will the switch save us more than 40 USD each month, I can now use a phone that doesn’t look like it belongs in a pocket protector.

Since we realized we weren’t going to be able to pass a Vodafone credit check, Ben and I contacted Virgin Media to install our internet. After a month of phone calls, direct deposit set-ups and the like, two workmen arrived this past week to drill a hole in the front of our flat. Within half an hour our internet was successfully installed. Ben and I will no longer have to walk between 15 and 20 minutes to the library or Starbucks for a three or four hour internet cram session. And we were actually able to chat with Ben’s family for the first time in months.

The next ripple helped push things along with Rotary. I have now completed 8 presentations with local Rotary clubs and have scheduled my remaining two presentations for the beginning of next semester. The presentation with Carrickfergus went especially well. Their President was really kind and even drove Ben and I to Carrickfergus Castle and Marina to take pictures. This past Friday, Ben and I attended an international dinner sponsored by the Rotary Club of Coleraine. I also presented to the Rotary club here in Derry and now have a calendar of their upcoming events. I am planning to go to their fundraiser this Friday, and look forward to building more of a relationship with my host club. My host counselor and I chatted for a good while after my presentation and he signed off on my First Report, which means that I should be all set to receive my next scholarship disbursement. 

A wave emerged on the horizon a couple weeks ago, when I meet with Kilcranny House, a peace and reconciliation non-profit organization based in Coleraine, to talk about some potential internship opportunities. They seem really flexible and open to working with me, but I haven’t been able to commit myself just yet because I have been in contact with some other projects that seem equally promising, and might be a better fit for me. Also, the other Ambassadorial Scholar in Derry and I met to discuss some of our ideas for cross-community projects involving young people. We came up with a list of the organizations in Derry we are most interested in partnering with, and narrowed it down to our top 5 choices. Last Friday, I met with one of the groups, Off the Streets, in Galliagh. Off the Streets does group work on the street every evening with young people ages 11 to 24 in a six-week program culminating in a community service project. I got a really great vibe from meeting with them, but I’m hoping that my quintessential American eagerness didn’t scare them off. Tomorrow, I have another meeting scheduled with S.E.E.D.S., a cultural diversity awareness organization, after which Katie I will be regrouping and scheduling a joint meeting with our two mutual top choices. I think it’s definitely going to be difficult to narrow the field to just two organizations, but at this pace, I could be trained and starting youth work by winter break.

The real tidal wave, however, has been our social life. I’m not saying that Ben and I have friends per se (My social pool is a little too limited for that), but now that we have health care and can communicate with the outside world, we’ve actually had some fun. We’ve been to see a few movies at the local Omniplex - namely In Time, and the Adventures of Tin Tin - and we’ve been scoping out some area restaurants. So far we’ve found some really great cafes in the Derry city centre: Cafe Soul, Fosters, and the Boston Tea Party. The highlight though was yesterday, when Ben and I went to see the Ulster Orchestra perform a “European Odyssey” at the Belfast Waterfront Hall. It was a wonderful concert, and we got to Belfast early enough to grab a bite at Sakura, this absolutely scrumptious Japanese restaurant in Queen’s Quarter by the University. (The Red Dragon sushi roll was killer!) This week looks even more promising. The Foyle Film Festival is coming to town, and will feature movie premieres of The Artist and Shame, along with the LIM awards for Short Film (winners are automatically considered for Oscar nominations) and question and answer sessions with special guests Brendan Gleeson and Terry George (director of Hotel Rwanda). I am super excited and plan to get my tickets tomorrow at the Nerve Centre. Also, this Thursday will mark my second Thanksgiving in Northern Ireland. Ben and I have invited everyone from my course at Magee over to the apartment to celebrate with us. I’ve already planned my dishes and made a shopping list. It definitely won’t compare with Thanksgiving at my grandma’s, or a Lisa feast, but I hope Ben and I can make it special. 

Irish Road Trip - Yeah!

BlogPics

 To see pictures of our travels click on the link above :)

Slowly "Getting Sorted"

Living in Northern Ireland has given me a much greater appreciation of Harry Potter. And for a girl who has the Harry Potter theme song set as her ring tone, that’s saying a lot. In greeting, new and old acquaintances constantly ask, “Are you sorted yet?” As if “sorted” describes some otherworldy state of being, a final nirvana where everything has been figured out. Here’s where Harry, Ron and Hermoine come in. I wish getting “sorted” could be as simple as arriving at Hogwarts, sitting on a three-legged stool and placing a wide-brimmed hat on my head. That some magical “Sorting Hat” would whisper in my ear and tell me if I’m going to be courageous or malicious, bookish or sluggish, before showing me to my place. Instead, for me, getting “sorted” has been a process rather than a destination, and - if we are to continue the Harry Potter reference- I haven’t even made it past the Whomping Willow. 

But if the Sorting Hat were going to sort my progress, I think this is how he would categorize things:

Hufflepuff House (for the terminally slow and dull-witted)

Banking: More than a month into living in Northern Ireland and we still do not have a UK bank account, meaning that, for more than a month, we have not had reliable internet access or a mobile plan on a contract (which both require a UK account in order to run a credit check). So, instead, we have spent over $175 to top up a phone that doesn’t even have data and to get online perhaps 15 of the days we’ve been here. The delay in getting our account set up is due to the fact that the International Student Office would not provide a letter of reference for me until after I had officially registered and enrolled at the university. Registration and enrollment only took place a little over a week ago and the earliest Northern Bank could see us to set up our account is today. We are hopeful that my credentials will be accepted, but have heard from some other international students that it can still take up to another month until the funds are actually cleared in the account.  

Healthcare: Ben is also still not registered with a doctor. See here, you can’t just go to a doctor when you’re sick. If you are lucky enough to qualify (which means you are planning to remain in the country for more than six months and you have a legitimate right to be here), you still have to fill out a form, make an appointment to register with a local GP (that’s ‘General Practitioner’ for all those stateside), have a check-up, and even provide a urine sample. Then, for the next 4 to 6 weeks, plan on visiting the Emergency Room if you get the rumblie-tumblies. I just received my medical card in the mail yesterday, which entitles me to free healthcare here in the UK, but Ben hasn’t even had a check-up yet and is coming down with the sniffles. The earliest appointment we could make for him to register with a GP isn’t until next week, so we are hoping that the turnaround will be very quick.

Slytherin House (for those who enjoy making life difficult for others) 

Registration and Enrollment: Normally, I would just gloss over this section because I know you aren’t at all interested in which classes I signed up for, you’re just waiting for me to get to the good bit - the part where I got lost walking around Derry and unwittingly foiled a plot to bomb the Guildhall. (No, that didn’t really happen. Northern Ireland is not a warzone. Please read a newspaper.) Trust me though, when I tell you that registration and enrollment is, like everything else here, an entirely foreign process that has to be experienced to be believed.

First, registering and enrolling at a university in Northern Ireland requires that you learn a foreign language. And I’m not talking about Irish. See, here, a class is called a “module” and a program of study is called a “course.”  A department is referred to as a “faculty” and a teacher is almost never a professor, simply a “lecturer.” Students in Northern Ireland do not have majors or minors. This is because they are accepted into one course when they apply to university, and they take only the modules within that faculty. They do not have GEC’s. This is because they have actually learned how to write and read before they got to college. 

The registration and enrollment process itself is what I believe the Spaniards call “running with the bulls.” We set aside an entire day to chasing down university staff - weaving through a maze of narrow corridors, learning resource centers, computer labs, registry offices, student support centers, and finance desks all linked by varying degrees of distinguishable arrows - waving our red flags (aka. enrollment forms) and trying to get out of the way before we get gouged in the - well, you know - by the next contestant waiting for their turn at the bull. I ran with the bulls for almost 7 hours before I had officially paid and signed up for my classes. 

Church: Translink (not the members of the church here in Northern Ireland) seems to be purposefully trying to make our lives difficult. Of the 5 Sundays since we’ve been here, two we were traveling either to Northern Ireland or to the Rotary District Conference. Two other Sundays, however, we arrived at the train station only to find that the train was gone. We misread the timetable the first time, and arrived just as the train was leaving the station. Last week, we arrived more than five minutes early and were told that the train was on a temporary schedule that day and left 8 minutes ahead of schedule. Buses do not run between Derry and Coleraine on Sundays and the trains only run three hours apart. Evening services are pretty much out of the question. While we would be able to make it in time, after services we would have almost two hours of waiting for the next train after all of the shops, restaurants, etc. close. We have actually only succeeded in going to worship one Sunday since we have been here. The two taxi rides and 40 minute train ride were definitely worth it. I was greeted with hugs from the members who remembered me from last year and they did their best to make Ben and I feel welcome. 

Culture: Walk around Derry after 6 PM and you feel like you’ve entered a ghost town. All the shop fronts are dark and the malls are closed. I suppose after this time, people are expected to be at home or else socializing with their friends over a pint in a pub somewhere. Since Ben and I don’t have any friends over here, we’d like to go on a date or a night out by ourselves sometime, but there doesn’t really seem like there’s anywhere to go other than to a pub. We tried to see what was playing at the Omniplex (the only movie theatre in Derry), but there wasn’t very much selection (Basically, our choices came down to Soul Surfer or the Lion King). We’ve settled for buying a bunch of used movies at GameStop and watching them on our computers. 

Food: People in Northern Ireland seem to be allergic to flavor, unless that flavor is gravy. There are no Mexican restaurants in Derry, for obvious reasons, and there is only one Indian restaurant on the other side of town. There are numerous Chinese take-aways here in Derry, but at least in my mind, the go-to Chinese meal shouldn’t simply consist of french fries, grilled chicken, fried rice, and gravy. We are still trying to find a restaurant that serves something other than roast with two sides of potatoes and gravy (and doesn’t include the word Pizza somewhere in its name).

Ravenclaw (for the common-sensical)

School: Thankfully, in this arena, I feel pretty much in my element. Granted, I have more than 1,000 pages of expected reading a week, but that’s what I signed up for, isn’t it? I’m only in class 4 hours on Tuesday and 3 on Thursday, so I spend the majority of the other five days of the week either in the library or on the couch reading about game theory, liberal peace-building or the history of Northern Ireland. I try to read at least two hours a day, so I’m hoping that despite all of the other distractions of trying to get sorted here, my schoolwork will not suffer.

Music: Ben has been very committed to developing a good practice routine and playing trumpet as much as he can. Generally, he does a two hour warm-up in the morning and plays for at least another two hours in the afternoon. We haven’t had any complaints from the neighbors - I think our newly renovated sound insulation must be helping there.  Ben’s made a list of more than a dozen auditions with professional orchestras and military bands that he has been preparing for, updating the list every few days as new jobs get posted. He spent most of last week recording a 10-minute audition for the U.S. Army Fife and Drum Band, and is now contacting orchestras with approaching deadlines for more specifics on their audition requirements. He also made a list of about a dozen doctoral programs that he wants to apply for, and is contacting the heads of the departments to find out if there are any openings in their trumpet studios and fellowships available. Right now, we have both decided that Ben needs to focus on his music and auditions this year for as long as my scholarship money will allow us. If our wallets start getting a little too empty we will reconsider this strategy, but right now we are just trusting that God will take care of us and that everything will work out. 

Apartment: 2 green pillows are all that stands between us and having our apartment fully decorated and livable. We are adjusting well to our Little House on the Prairie routine. Waking up early in the morning, hand-washing dishes, checking clothes air-drying over the radiators, and making all of our food from scratch on the hob.  Even though things aren’t as convenient as back home, Ben and I rely on each other and we help each other. I can’t even imagine complaining about doing housework in the States after living here. We have everything we need in our wee apartment - each other - and everyday I realize more and more how being married is the best thing I have ever done. Even though it definitely hasn’t felt like a honeymoon (Ben says that this last month has been like a year in our life back home) we know that being here has taught us to depend on each other and to trust each other. I am just so grateful for Ben and for all the blessings being married has brought into our lives.

Gryffindor (for the courageous)

Our Travels certainly belong in this category: In-between all of the crazy mentioned above, Ben and I have been making a concerted effort to see at least a little bit of Ireland, so that in some small way, we can feel like we are on a honeymoon. 

We went to Castlerock, were we walked a bit beside the ocean and saw Mussenden Temple (a 17th century ruin built as a library by the Bishop of Derry to honor his cousin who he was apparently in love with) and Downhill Demesne (his cousin’s house).

Then we took a day where we traveled to Dunluce Castle. Dunluce is a ruined Scottish-style castle on the side of a cliff probably built in the 13th century and complete with a mermaid cave. Legend has it that the castle kitchen fell into the sea during a dinner party in the 1500’s, taking with it several kitchen boys and cooks. After visiting the castle, Ben and I ate some scones on the roadside in the rain for the next couple of hours waiting for the next bus and waved at all of the passing cars. 

We got off at the Giant’s Causeway stop (Depending on which interpretation you believe- either a collection of volcanic rocks which have cooled and cracked in a unique  geometric pattern of columns or a bridge built by Finn McCool, an Irish giant, to challenge a Scottish giant across the ocean).

From the Giant’s Causeway we walked the North Antrim Cliff Path all the way to Dunseverick Castle (a ruined fortress from 1525 BC). The North Antrim Cliff Path, as its name suggests, is a 5 mile hike on top of a cliff. The path isn’t paved and has no guard rails. Ben and I were both more than a little scared given Ben’s lack of balance and that the only walking shoes he had were his Adidas. He slipped and slid the whole 3 hours but we both enjoyed every minute of it. It was breathtaking.

Then, a week later we tried to take the grand tour of Ireland, like all of the guidebooks suggest. I say tried, because Ben and I quickly discovered that our vacation style is not one of driving constantly and getting out whenever you see something interesting. Still, we had some pretty incredible experiences.

We drove almost 8 hours from Derry to Cork City - which both of us loved - and then drove on to Blarney Castle. We both kissed the Blarney Stone, which is a lot scarier than they tell you in the guidebooks. You climb more than a hundred steps in a narrow tower, then they hang you upside down over an open window to kiss a rock. The old man who helped me was a bit cheeky - he told me he was about to give me "The kiss of my life" and asked me if I was ticklish. I did not feel very eloquent afterwards, but Ben managed to fit Blarney into every sentence for the rest of the day.

From Blarney we went to Kinsale, the cutest little fishing town you’ve ever seen, whose claim to fame is its amazing restaurants. We had a wonderful, wonderful lunch topped off with a chai latte and espresso each and then drove about two and a half hours to Kinsale, a charming little village complete with its own stone circle, a 15th century stone bridge and the most colorful little restaurants and pubs imaginable. Our B&B there, Rockcrest House, is the nicest accommodation I have ever stayed in. The hosts were wonderful and the full Irish breakfast of potato cakes, grilled tomato, porridge and honey, cereal, baked beans, black and white pudding, sausage, rashers and fried egg was amazing.

Our host in Kenmare suggested that we drive the Ring of Beara (a scenic driving route on the Beara Peninsula) instead of the Ring of Kerry, another, very touristy driving route, which is touted as being the must-see experience of Ireland. Ben and I decided to take her advice. 

Our first stop was on a whim. We saw a brown tourist sign for a place called ‘Priest’s Leap’ and intrigued by the name, decided to turn off the main road. The road changed from a narrow, one-lane paved road to a narrower gravel road to a four-wheeler track winding and meandering up the side of a mountain. We literally drove through a cloud. Ben was shaking the whole time, but once you started driving up, there was no way to come down except in reverse, so we pressed on. At one point Ben and I had to stop because there were rams butting heads in the middle of the path. The only people we saw were two farmers on four wheelers followed by about 10 sheep dogs. They just waved at us and smiled encouragingly. It was the most unforgettable experience of the whole day.

Our next stop was at a stone circle from at least 3,000 B.C. It was just in the middle of a farmer’s field near another prehistoric site, a ring fort from around the same period. Coming from a country which preserves buildings from the 1800’s, it was incredible to stand there and feel the weight of millenia in the air around you.

Next, Ben and I tried to visit Dunboy castle, but it ended up being graffiti-ridden and disappointing so we drove on up and down the Beara Mountains to a small town called Eyeries where we hoped to grab a bite of lunch. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize how small the town was. There were no restaurants open until after October and the pubs did not serve food. Ben and I bought a sandwich at the petrol station/grocery store/hardware store/only place serving food in town and drove on to Limerick.

The next day was devoted to the Rotary District Conference, but the following morning we went to the Cliffs of Moher, the tallest sea cliffs in Ireland and then drove through the Burren, an eerily lunar landscape with dozens of prehistoric sites. We saw a portal tomb in which dozens of people had been buried at least 3,000 B.C. 

From there, we drove up to the Fermanagh Lakelands and stayed the night in a B&B. The next day I did a presentation with the Enniskillen Rotary Club and after visiting Monea Castle, Ben and  I met up with a girl I took a class with here last year. She and her husband, Lamb, took us out on his dad’s boat to Devenish Island, a monastery built on an island in the middle of a lake around the 13th century. It rained the entire time but we enjoyed ourselves and spent the rest of the evening at their house talking. Ben had a lot of trouble understanding Lamb’s accent, which provided for constant moments of hilarity.

We are hoping to take a trip somewhere warm in the next few weeks, potentially to Alicante or Malaga, Spain where we can enjoy beautiful weather, beaches and glorious flavorful food for the cost of about 40 pounds round-trip (It cost us more than that to rent a car over here).

Till next time :)

Our Wee Apartment

That first night, we were too exhausted to do much of anything except eat and unpack our sheets and duvet. The next day, however, began with a friendly visit from our landlord, Paul, who informed us early on in the conversation that he had lived in Boston for 12 years, but had never been to Ohio. Boston’s definitely a world away from Columbus, but despite being unconvinced of our common ground, I nodded agreeably. I’ve found that a nod and an obliging “Oh, really?” are the only appropriate responses I can give when someone from Northern Ireland tells me they’ve been to America - which really means they’ve vacationed in Florida, New York, Boston, or California. I appreciate the figurative handshake, as if to say, “Nice to meet you. I’m not like the others. I’ve been to where you live.” 

Paul then proceeded to give us a run-down (which I will repeat below) of our apartment coupled with an admonition, “Don’t leave that door open. Heat is precious. Heat is gold.”

Heating: Our apartment is heated with gas supplied by a propane tank sitting in our wee back garden. Our water is also heated by this tank, and is either freezing cold, or the temperature we’ve set for ourselves inside. When the propane in the tank runs out, the heat runs out. Which is not good. So, basically, we have to check our tank by giving it a good shake. If it’s heavy and doesn’t explode, we don’t have to pay Paul 70 pounds for another one. The tank should last us at least 6 to 8 weeks. That is, if we don’t have the temperature up to 100 F.  We were walking around pretty much naked until Paul explained that that they use Celcius over here. Now we have the heater set at a comfortable 35 C in the evenings and turn it off during the day to conserve our propane. 

That brings me to laundry: Funny that the heater should remind me of washing clothes, but we don’t have a dryer here, which is pretty standard throughout Europe. Rather than guzzle up exorbitant amounts of energy running a tumble dryer, folk in Northern Ireland hang their clothes up on the line outside. We tried this. It didn’t work. Firstly, because it rains nearly every day in Northern Ireland which makes drying wet clothes outside a challenge. Secondly, because we don’t have clothes pins and the plastic clothes pin rack we bought from Pound World snapped as soon as we hung our heavy jeans on it. So, our unmentionables are strewn over every available radiator, door knob and wardrobe door for going on 36 hours now. I’m just hoping we don’t have any company until they finish drying. Oh, and did I mention that the washers are miniature? One small  rectangular laundry basket requires potentially 4 or 5 loads - I’m not really sure yet, because the washer seems to be on 3 hour cycles and we ran out of drying space. 

Electricity: Unlike in America, where you never once think about how much electricity you are consuming until you receive a monthly bill, people here in Northern Ireland are very aware of their energy consumption. Here, we pay for our electric with a designated card, just like our cell phone. There is a panel outside the door to our flat that displays how much electricity credit we have remaining. When we get low, we run down the road to the convenience (a tiny shop in a residential neighborhood that sells essential groceries, cleaning supplies, cigarettes, etc.) where you can “top up” or add credit to your water, electric, mobile, and even pay your taxes. And every single appliance, outlet, washer, oven, lamp, etc. has its own designated switch that you have to manually flip down - the opposite direction of light switches in the States - until it displays the tiny, red word ‘ON.’ As a result, you aren’t wasteful, because you only turn on appliances when you need them. Frankly, it’s a bit of a hassle, but it seems to save money. We learned very quickly that electricity doesn’t work the same way as in the States when we had a lamp and a computer turned on at the same time and apparently blew a fuse. However, in checking the circuit breaker, nothing was labelled, and nothing had been flipped, so we are kind of at a loss for how to proceed. We now have no power in either the living room or the bedroom and are hoping that when Paul stops by again today, he will have another simple explanation. Either way, we’ve chosen to leave all of our lights off during the day to save as much money as we can.

Appliances: We don’t have a TV and don’t plan on buying one. It seems to be too much money to spend on something we won’t be able to take back to the States with us, and after a couple of hours watching TV in Belfast, I’m not sure that Ben and I would find the shows here entertaining for the right reasons. We also don’t have a dishwasher, so we wash all of our dishes by hand after every meal. We don’t have a garbage disposal, which means the trash must be taken out every day to avoid unpleasant odors. Speaking of unpleasant odors, despite numerous containers of baking soda, our fridge has a pungent smell of sour, rotten milk, and cooling and freezing plastic from where the cleaning staff accidentally switched it off before we moved in. The fridge is the size of a mini fridge in the States, which is typical here, and fine by us, because since we don’t have a car, and the food here doesn’t contain many preservatives (if at all), even if we were able to carry enough food back to our apartment to fill our entire fridge, it would all go bad (or “go off” here) before we’d had a chance to eat it. Basically, this means we are required to make very frequent trips to the grocery store.

Groceries: We have tried shopping at Super Value, TESCO and the convenience for our groceries and are still unsure of which chain has the best prices. Right now, TESCO is definitely winning on quality, as we discovered when we opened a jar of jam from the convenience and it was covered in mold. We have cooked almost every meal for ourselves since we arrived, again in an effort to be economical. This week, we bought a loaf of bread, six eggs, a quart of milk, a carton of butter, a zucchini (“courgette” here), a sack of small boiling potatoes, a carton of mushrooms, asparagus, three onions, a package of roma tomatoes, salt, pepper, coffee, pasta, pasta sauce, a package of chicken breast, a carton of juice, mayo w/sweet chili flavor (kind of like chipotle mayo back home), lunch meat, cheese, yogurt, strawberries, blueberries, cooking oil, tomato soup and jam for about 60 pounds. We are trying to spend around 50 pounds a week and think we should be able to budget better next week now that we have a few things to start out with.

Furniture: Our matching couch and armchair deserve their own subheading because they are truly something out of legend. We have nicknamed them “The Mexican Nacho Fiesta couches,” as they are a hideous blend of burnt brick red-orange, faded maize yellow, navy blue, and rose pink in wide, wavy horizontal stripes. Their large armrests and gripping wooden toes seem to shout, “Look at me! I am the world’s most hideous couch! EVER.” Ben and I decided immediately that they must be hidden. Especially because the living room is the only room we have to eat in, and the sight of these couches was making me as nauseous as the flight to Heathrow. Finding a slipcover was an adventure that took us on foot to three stores in Belfast, online to many internet vendors who do not ship covers to the UK, and eventually, on a 2 and a half hour bus and taxi ride to our friendly, neighborhood, IKEA, all the way in Belfast. Finally, the Mexican Nacho Fiesta couches have been exterminated. 

Decorations: The rooms themselves are a good size, but one thing that was definitely lacking was warmth. Ben and I spent the entire first week trekking around Derry buying decorations and essential homewares for the apartment. At nearly every store, the sales people seemed bent on discouraging us from purchasing anything. Ben and I would discuss an item we liked together, and one of the sales people, in an attempt to be helpful would tell us it was “much too dear” and that we really wanted something else - that we didn’t really want a curtain, or slipcovers for the couch. Despite their best efforts, Ben and I managed to find very nice things at a reasonable price. Nevertheless, it was apparent that our money doesn’t travel very far in Northern Ireland and what would have taken a few hours to buy in the States took a week because we went everywhere on foot and carried everything ourselves, selecting and purchasing items without shopping carts (which are pretty much nonexistent here). One of our first steps was to purchase some shades for our ceiling lights, which were simply bare bulbs hanging from the ceilings when we first arrived. We then purchased: 4 pillows for the couches, 2 table lamps, 2 standing picture frames, a few scented candles, a decorative candlestick with tall dinner candles, a piece of wall art, curtains for the bedroom and living room, a curtain rod (“curtain pole” here, also on our trip to IKEA, as it is unavailable in almost any home furnishings store over here), a couple of baskets for our stuff, a dish drying rack, a hamper, 4 sturdy wooden hangers, 2 trash cans, a set of screwdrivers, a hammer, a picture hanging kit, a blanket for the couch, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Clothing: So far, our search for clothes has been pretty unsuccessful. We came to Northern Ireland with a 50 lb. suitcase a piece and quickly discovered that we have hardly anything to wear. Since we needed to make a trip to Belfast anyway in order to go to IKEA, we decided to kill two birds with one stone and try to go shopping at Castle Court on a Saturday. Bad idea. All of Northern Ireland appeared to be at that mall. There was a long line (or “queue” to get into some stores, and it was nearly impossible to look at anything because Ben and I were constantly in the way. Rather than say ‘Excuse Me,’ people just  stared at us as if we were doing something wrong, which we might have been. After all, we wouldn’t know any differently. It’s difficult to get a gauge on women’s fashion here. There are a lot of looks that we don’t have in the States, in particular, the British indie vibe, which is simply nonexistent back home. And it’s difficult to tell which stores are age appropriate. I saw stores carrying clothes I might like and began shopping, realizing a few minutes later that everyone else in the store was over 40. Sitting at Subway (which is everywhere over here, I might add), trying to calm my nerves, Ben and I noticed that young women here tend to dress either like flight attendants, hookers, or 14-year-olds and sometimes a mixture of all three. Even the hair and makeup are different. Girls walked by with mountains of teased, ratty hair and heavy lipstick and seemed to be in the norm. After trying on dress after dress in varying shades of brick red, mustard yellow, teal and brown at store after store, I quickly realized that finding something flattering in my size was a rather tall order. At home, I’m an 8 maximum, and a 6 or a small in many stores. In Northern Ireland, I couldn’t fasten a size 12. Any larger, and I would potentially have to shop in the plus sizes. At this point, I felt very defeated. Ben ended up purchasing a warmer coat for himself, and I found a pair of comfortable shoes to walk in that didn’t instantly single me out as an American. At least we didn’t walk away empty-handed.

Banking: We have had numerous difficulties opening a bank account here in Northern Ireland. Before we left, I researched all of the identifying documents I would need to provide to demonstrate that I am a credible client for a bank in Northern Ireland, and to show that I have a good credit history. I brought my passport, bank statements for the past couple of months, direct deposits slips from the past several months, my confirmation of enrollment from the university, and our lease agreement. All of this information, has proven insufficient. While my passport will suffice as my proof of identity, none of the documents I own provide proof of a UK address, which is something difficult to obtain in Northern Ireland. Ben and I don’t have utility bills, and since I’m an international student, my offer letter was emailed to me, rather than mailed to my address in Northern Ireland. Further, since we rent from a private landlord, our lease doesn’t come from the Northern Ireland Housing Executive, and can’t be accepted as an official document. After a short meeting with a friendly bank staffperson, Monica, we determined that the only way for me to open an account is to have the university mail (“post”) my letter of acceptance to my address here in the UK. Then, I will have both a letter of reference and a proof of address, which should be sufficient to open a student account. I will not, however, be able to open a personal account, or a joint account with Ben, since Ben will not be able to provide any official documentation verifying his address. Monica did mention that after about a month or so, we could return and try to open a joint account in Ben’s name. Until we open an account, however, it may be difficult for Ben to get a National Insurance Number (the UK’s version of a Social Security Number) or to obtain work, but we are hopeful that the university will be able to help us out and that Ben can list my student account information on any job applications until he is added to the account. Unfortunately, until this account is opened, Ben and I also won’t be able to get a monthly mobile or internet plan from Vodafone, both of which require a UK bank account to authorize a credit check.

Despite all of these difficulties, however, Ben and I are very, very happy together. We love being married and we love the life we have chosen here in Northern Ireland. We are just trying to rely on God and each other and are so grateful for the opportunity we have to depend on one another for our needs. We are optimistic that everything will be sorted out eventually, and just praying that things are sorted out sooner, rather than later.

Moving to Derry aka. “The-Not-So-Honeymoon Period”

Moving to Derry aka. “The-Not-So-Honeymoon Period”

When you first arrive in a new country, you experience what those who’ve travelled (even more than I have) refer to as “the honeymoon period.” The fabulous sights, exotic smells, odd people and sometimes, foreign language of your new place are exciting, rather than overwhelming. You perceive the difference between home and wherever you’ve travelled as quaint, amusing, or interesting, rather than simply irritating. This is all because, in the first couple of weeks that you’ve arrived in a new country, you are still on vacation.

Typically, then, after about three weeks in your new country (although this can occur sooner rather than later), the honeymoon ends and “culture shock” sets in. The lifestyle of your new home, the habits of the people here which you once wrote home about and laughed at with your folks are now frustrating and an impediment to the way of life you were accustomed to. The people, who were simply a little odd before, are now hostile and purposefully setting roadblocks in the way of your transition. The language barrier, if there is one (and there always is one), is determined to give you daily migraines and turn basic tasks - like choosing shampoo or buying food from the grocery store - into monstrous undertakings. Simple chores like doing laundry and washing dishes become day-long nightmares. Above all, no matter how you’ve prepared, you feel completely ill-equipped to handle life in your new country and more than once, the thought crosses your mind, “Can I just go home where things make sense?”

But if you persevere, something wonderful can happen. You can actually live in a foreign country. You can prove to yourself that you can adapt, and survive in a new place. By experiencing how others live, you learn that the way you always did things before isn’t the only way to do things, and isn’t even always the best way. You are reliant upon ‘things’ much less than before, and don’t take the conveniences of home for granted. Above all, you learn more about yourself than you ever could laying poolside in Myrtle Beach. A vacation doesn’t reveal your character. Living in a foreign country, however, you are forced to confront all of your inadequacies and strive to compensate for them.

I’ve been through the honeymoon, culture shock, and survivor stages of traveling three times now, even though the trips were over different lengths of time. In Paris and South Africa, it took about two weeks for culture shock to set in. The last time I was in Northern Ireland, I lasted about three. 

It was only fitting, then, that in this move to Northern Ireland, on the day after I got married, I would skip the honeymoon phase entirely and jump straight into culture shock. This is because, rather than going through lengthy orientations led by smiling locals, participating in local homestays and sightseeing for the first couple of weeks, Ben and I leapt right into starting a life in a new country.

Nevertheless, Northern Ireland and I must have parted on good terms because the airport gods were smiling down upon me. Aside from not being able to sleep on the plane and three hours of intense nausea before we landed at London Heathrow, the journey to Belfast was pretty uneventful. We collected all our bags, exchanged our money and picked up our car rental without incident.

The fun began when we climbed into the Peugeot. The car rental attendant informed us it was a “large car,” but seeing that it was much smaller than even a mini-SUV in the States, Ben and I thought we could handle it. First, we had trouble disengaging the e-brake, which was apparently automatic, even though everything else in the car was manual. Then, my directions proved useless when we couldn’t find the first road GoogleMaps was telling us to head southwest on. Practically slapping myself for not renting a GPS, or “SatNav” as they are called here, Ben and I proceeded to go the wrong direction for about ten minutes, until we decided to turn around. 

Having no clue which road we were on, and a vague map showing a road that for all we knew, didn’t exist, I attempted to navigate to an area of the city I had never been to before based on my limited recollection of tourist landmarks I’d visited over a year ago. All the while, our Peugeot barreled down the ‘wrong side of the road’ sideswiping other cars, guardrails and potentially small children (we couldn’t really see), weaving around roundabouts (basically operating under the same traffic guidelines as town squares, aka. none), and pulling U-turns because European cities are NEVER constructed on a grid. Two lefts and we were lost for half an hour until we happened to stumble upon something familiar, and found our hotel.

Since we’d booked early, Ben and I were upgraded to an entire suite, which was basically a furnished apartment with two bedrooms and three beds, a bathroom, a nice, fitted kitchen, and a large living room. We’d splurged a little since it was our first night in Belfast, and the Malone Lodge definitely exceeded our expectations. Dinner there was wonderful. I ordered the “Roast of the Day” - gammon, which I forgot refers to ham steak in the UK, but it turned out delicious. Ben had the “Catch of the Day,” a delicious salmon in cream sauce. We took our time, unhurried, determined not to eat like Americans, who in comparison, dine and dash. 

Ben even made a friend - while taking a pee in the bathroom. An odd place to start a conversation, but maybe that’s how they do things around here. When Ben told him we were staying in Derry, he apologized on behalf of Northern Ireland. Then, on a sidenote, he added, “There aren’t very many black people over here, are there?” to which Ben simply replied, “No, I’m used to seeing a lot more.” Apparently, sound effects for number twos are also perfectly acceptable, Ben informs me.

The next day, we began shopping for our apartment at Castle Court Shopping Centre and Victoria Square in Belfast. Castle Court is a two-tier shopping mall, while Victoria Square is basically a pedestrian shopping area of the city. We purchased as many essentials as we could, filling the entire backseat of our monstrous Peugeot, knowing that, without the car in Derry, we would have to lug the rest of our home furnishings (homewares here) on foot back to our apartment. We purchased: pillows, a duvet (the inside of a comforter, they rarely sell comforter sets here, and if they do, they are much more expensive), one set of pillowcases, one set of sheets and a duvet cover, two mugs, four bowls, four salad plates, and four dinner plates, a pack of six drinking glasses, a can opener, salad spoons, a vegetable peeler, four knifes, four forks, a set of cutting knifes, a set of cooking utensils, a set of three saucepans, a baking sheet, a roasting pan, a collander, a wok, a bathmat, one bath towel, two hand towels and two washcloths, shampoo and conditioner, deodorant, a hair dryer, a straightener, hangers, a clothes drying rack, an all-purpose cleaner, sponges, dish soap, hand soap, a broom and dustpan, trash bags, a set of four tupperware dishes, cling wrap, aluminum foil, dish rags, kitchen towels and paper towels. 

We began at Pound World, and purchased all of our toiletries, cleaning supplies, and many of our kitchen utensils and products there for only one pound a piece. Then we moved to the home furnishings sections at the larger department stores, Dunnes and Debenhams, where we bought only items on sale. We purchased my hair dryer and straightener at Boots (basically their version of CVS) and finally, we visited the Vodafone shop to discuss cell phone plans. The specialist there was very nice and went over all of our different options for mobile coverage with us. He seemed very familiar to working with foreigners, and pleased that we at least spoke the same language.

Cell phone, or ‘mobile’ plans as they’re called here, are very different from in the States. Here, many people choose a pay-as-you-go plan, where you purchase a basic phone and a SIM (a memory chip that goes into the back of your phone) and pay for only the minutes you use, ‘topping up’ or adding credit manually to your SIM by purchasing credit at any convenience store every time you are running low. You can get nicer phones on this plan, but they are much more expensive. This option is much easier for people traveling through or foreigners who don’t have proof of a permanent address in the UK. Ben went with this option, purchasing an inexpensive phone to get us started that doesn’t have data coverage, but can text (SMS here) or call just fine. Basically, without a proof of address, this is the only phone Ben and I could get right away here.

Eventually, I should be able to add a Vodafone SIM card to my unlocked Blackberry and purchase a monthly plan at 15.50 GBP a month, which will provide a limited amount of data, calling and texts on the phone I already own, at less cost than topping up my phone every month. Highly economical, which is the way everything is done around here. 

Internet, rather than being part of a cable bundle, is also generally purchased through a cell phone provider, like Vodafone. Typically, you can either buy what’s called a “dongle,” a memory-stick/flash drive device that you plug into a USB port so that one computer at a time can access the internet, or purchase a small, portable wireless router that will provide access to all devices inside the home. Again, like cell phones, these are done on either a pay-as-you-go or monthly plan basis, but in order to buy the monthly plan, you must have proof of a UK address. Basically, for those of you who aren’t techie, this translates to “things don’t work the way they do in the States.” Ben and I left the store with only one working phone that we have to purchase credit for every time we run out. 

We left the shopping mall around 6 PM, finally able to call our property agent, Neil Patterson, to let him know that we had indeed arrived and were planning to drive to the apartment in Derry that night. An hour later, we had to call again to let him know that we would be late, as we had gotten lost. Again. Due to the late hour, we were to pick up the keys at his house, in an area outside of the city that I had never been to before. Nevertheless, we found his house without too much trouble and quickly signed the lease, retrieving our keys, anxious to be in our new apartment. 

Our first stop in Derry was to Romeo’s, my favorite pizza place while I was studying there last year, where we purchased all of my favorite comfort foods to welcome us into our new home: two donder wraps (the Turkish version of a gyro, I think), a 10” margherita pizza, and a banoffee pie (one of Northern Ireland’s greatest inventions - think, chilled banana and toffee on a graham cracker crust).

Then we drove around Derry for a good half an hour in the dark trying to navigate narrow one-way streets and roundabouts that spun us off in every direction except the one we were trying to travel in. Finally - miraculously - we landed on Marlborough Street and found our wee apartment.

Introduction

Welcome to the pure, unadulterated webloggings of Elaine Joy, a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar assigned to L’Derry, Northern Ireland, chronicling my transition to life, marriage and academia overseas.

Those of you who know me well, or have even stalked me on Facebook a little, probably realize by now that I travel. A lot. It kind of comes with the territory of being an International Studies major, but I took things to the extreme when I decided to not only do comparative study of youth violence in South Africa and Northern Ireland for my undergraduate Honors Thesis, but to travel there on my own and conduct both independent research and volunteer work. If you followed any of my previous blogs, then you know that this involved tracking down and interviewing a variety of fabulous individuals over the course of more than two years, including gang members and children of IRA volunteers. And, again, if you know me at all, you know that I wouldn’t have signed up for any of this unless I could somehow ‘scholarship’ my way there - As in, see the world for free. 

So, during my junior year at OSU, after returning from South Africa and in the middle of a semester abroad in Northern Ireland, I decided to apply for the Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship so that I could return to Northern Ireland and get my MA in Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Ulster in Derry. Inevitably, when I mention that I will be majoring in Peace Studies to anyone in the United States, questions like ‘What can you do with that degree?’ or ‘Is that an accredited program?’ immediately follow. There seems to be an attitude from some that I must just be taking a year off abroad, perhaps ‘sowing my wild oats’ until I figure out my life. 

I would like to take this opportunity to assure everyone that this program is not only accredited, but is one of the best in the world in this field. The professors at this university literally wrote the book on the impact of violence in Northern Ireland on young people and on truth and reconciliation after violence in Northern Ireland and South Africa. Basically, this is the perfect place for me to be, and it’s somewhere I have wanted to study for a very, very long time. I am truly just honored that they would even want to accept me, and honestly believe that there is nothing more worthwhile I could be doing with my life at this moment.

Receiving the Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship has been the vehicle that made this dream a reality for me. It is a flat grant of 26,000 USD which is given to me, the scholar, to budget for my tuition and living expenses for a nine month period of study abroad. It is awarded at the district level, typically to one outstanding scholar per Rotary District. Receiving the scholarship is a series of Kafkaesque steps ranging from interviews with local rotary clubs, personal statements, letters of recommendation, and interviews at the District level, all culminating with a phone call, a gospel chorus ‘Yes’ or a soul-crushing ‘No.’ My first phone call was the soul-crushing variety. I was the alternate. Until my district pooled for more funding so that they could offer me a second scholarship.

In exchange, I’m required to deliver one presentation to my sponsoring Rotary Club, the Gallipolis Rotary Club, before I depart, ten to fifteen presentations to clubs in Northern Ireland while I am over here, and one presentation to the Gallipolis Rotary Club when I return. In addition, I will complete a community service project in Northern Ireland involving local Rotarians, attend Rotary orientation in the United States and in Ireland, attend local Rotary Club meetings, keep a blog of my travels, communicate with my sponsoring club in the States, and report my progress to the Rotary Foundation, all while taking classes towards receiving my MA in Peace and Conflict Studies. Piece of cake.

Oh - and did I mention that I got engaged? My then-boyfriend, Ben Joy and I took a leap of faith and decided to plan a wedding, get married, and plan a move to another country  - all over a short, 28-day period. So, as you may have gathered from the beginning of this introduction, the wedding somehow came together in the midst of all of this, and I am now Mrs. Elaine Joy, Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar.