Caed Mile Failte

The flight was happily uneventful except that they served only tiny little thimblefuls of coffee. It was terrible coffee, and so little of it! I arrived at Shannon airport at 7:30, and it took an hour to go through immigration for a set of bizarre reasons. I had heard that I would need to show a whole series of documents (as outlined in my previous entry), and I was prepared with said documents in my hand as I stood in line at the immigration booths. Suddenly, a sharp looking woman stands up in her booth and shouts into the crowd, “All students go sit against the wall. It takes 10 minutes to process you!” So a group of about ten of us go sit next to the wall while everybody else is essentially waved through. The Lady Sharp took the first girl and began to grill her mercilessly. A more laid back gentleman saw the next person and appeared to not be interested in any of her documents at all. He took another photo of her, stamped her passport, and waved her through. He processed two more of us pesky students while Lady Sharp began to apply thumb screws to that original unfortunate student. Just as I thought I would be able to breeze through Mr. Laid-Back’s booth, another immigration guy called over, “Give me a hand with this lot,” and I continued to wait while passengers from another plane showed their library cards, and were cheerfully welcomed to Ireland. Just as Lady Sharp was making that very first student start to cry, Mr. Laid-Back decided he would process another student, and I got my turn. He looked at my passport, asked me my name (I got that question right), asked me if I had been to China (as he was looking at my passport record on his computer that indicated I had a Chinese visa) so I knew the correct answer was “yes,” he took a new photo of me, and that was it. I guess I am saving my highly organized set of papers for my immigration interview next week. As I went to pick up my pack, Lady Sharp appeared to be tying her student to a stake and looking around for kindling. Guess she didn’t have the right paperwork…

I only had to pick up my pack from checked luggage because Delta (as of six months ago) will allow guitars on board. On the domestic flight from Cincinnati to New York, I was on a plane that had “extended over-head bins” into which my guitar fit! The international flight had regular sized bins, but the very nice flight attendants put it into the front closet of the plane. It was great!

Having collected my baggage, I went outside into the arrivals hall and met a person holding a University of Limerick sign. She directed me to a group of very young people (my new colleagues!) to wait for the final victims of Lady Sharp to stagger out of their arrival grilling. We got on the bus and drove out to the University. It was cool and grey with spells of heavy mist that were almost, but not quite, rain-like. The students were talkative and sweetly inexperienced. They marveled at the traffic on the “wrong side of the road,” the price of gas, and the narrowness of the roads. The world weary 22 year old who was sent to collect us from the Office of Study Abroad and get us to the dorms patiently answered questions and taught a quick vocabulary lesson about dual-carriageways, petrol, telling time (half nine means nine thirty), and how Irish is the language and Gaelic is the sports. She was very patient.

At the dorms, the reception people processed us very quickly, and they gave us keys (electronic plastic), a handbook (sample advice: you are responsible if you burn down your dorm), and a “welcome bag.” I would rather have a metal key, but the plastic is okay. I think the don’t-burn-down-the-dorm thing is related to smoking. The “welcome bag” contained two tea bags, four little milks, four packs of sugar, ginger biscuits, vanilla biscuits, and Cadbury chocolate biscuits. It was fantastic! I was feeling like a bit of refreshment by about this point, and a little cup of tea with some biscuits was totally civilized. I promptly made myself at home in this new kitchen by making said tea. The dorm has a teapot!

Now, on the internet info about the dorm, it had said, a “hob” was provided. If you look that word up, the first three definitions deal with little supernatural creatures of the goblin variety, so Debbie Page (who discovered this) suggested that they provided a House Elf. However, she also pointed out that a further definition is that a hob is something that warms something else. So she suggested that it might mean there is a heater in the kitchen. My pal Kendra, who did her study abroad in London, said the “hob” she knew of was a hotplate. Well, it turns out that when you get a “hob” in Ireland, you are getting an electric kettle for tea. I was so happy to discover this, although I must admit, a house elf would have been nice. On the other hand, there is no microwave. The stove is electric (yuck), and the fridges are small. There is, however, a lot of cupboard space, which is nice. Evidently the cupboards are called “presses”. The kitchen window looks out on the pedestrian mall that is in the center of this dorm area. The “living room” area looks out on a wooded creek, as does my personal room’s window. It is pretty quiet and pleasant, except that when the toilet is flushed by anyone in the rooms above me, the water rushing through the pipes sounds like someone shaking marbles in a can.

After my refreshing little snack, I went to find the library and email Ralph. He had already emailed me! Whatta sweetie. ☺ As part of our welcome package, they gave us immediately usable guest accounts with passwords. This was really nice because I could log on immediately to the university computers. Then I went shopping. I walked along the N7, which is the main road from Dublin to Limerick. It was busy and noisy, but it lead to a large Dunne’s store (sort of like a Meiers). I found most of the foods I wanted, but apples were really expensive (so I got Spanish pears instead), there was no cottage style cheese (but there was crème fraiche), and I could not find any soy based protein foods (neither tofu nor tempeh) anywhere. On the whole, I was able to find what I needed for modest eating habits. I also had to get a duvet cover and a fitted sheet. Near the Dunnes Store was a “T.K. Max” store. I guess international branding required the substitution of the “K” for the American “J”, but they had what I wanted. However, the T.K. Max had a much more old-style Filene’s basement atmosphere. All the clerks were from South East Asia. The manager was a northern European.

I slogged home with all my stuff, made lovely frozen vegetables and rice, with a little three inch sausage for my protein, and put my newly acquired sheets on the bed. It is rather homey in what is otherwise a rather bare room. So, Immigration was easy, the welcome was efficient, the guest passwords were fantastic, and I have food and a bed. The “No-Jet-Lag” is the best. It is just getting dark, and I’m just getting tired