February 2020
The benefit of always being so behind in writing is that it gives me hindsight. Reflecting on it now (in May), this all feels like an eternity ago, and possibly even a whole universe away from the one we’re in now. So many things have happened since then – pandemic and otherwise – so it’s been more challenging to write about, because it really does feel like it was the last time things were “normal.” And I’m not sure it’ll go back to that any time soon either.
Youth 2000 is an organisation geared towards young Catholics, aged 16-35, and they host a number of retreats around the country each year. They don’t charge anything to attend – you just show up wherever it is. They’ll even provide transportation for long distance travel so that it’s as accessible as possible to everyone. This is made possible in part due to the annual St. Valentine’s Day fundraising ball, held in a different location each year. Last year it was in Galway and this year it was in Naas – not too far from Dublin… but really far if you don’t have a car – so three friends of mine (entirely independent of each other) told me that I simply had to come because it’s always “great craic” with dinner and dancing and friends. I will say it took some persistence, mainly because of how much time I’d spend travelling, but once the third person was on to me about it I was thoroughly convinced it must be worth it.
So I looked up how I’d actually get there – two buses for a total of two hours – and back, since it ends at 1am and most public transportation in Ireland ceases by midnight – an hour-long bus to the airport (that only comes once an hour, so better not miss it) and then a 20-minute taxi home. I figured for a once-off it was doable, so I bought the ticket rather last-minute, which ended up being a day or so before they fully sold out.
It’s a formal event and I don’t have a suitable long dress, but thankfully I had bought a (mid-length) dress for another friend’s wedding, and that was plenty formal for me. Of course on the day of it was pouring rain, nonstop. Though I think raincoats are bright and fun, I know they’re not exactly “formal wear,” but I’d consider myself far more practical than fashionable (if you’ve ever heard me talk about heels, you understand) so I went with my bluebird raincoat. I passed the travel time looking out the window and listening to an audiobook so it passed quicker than I thought it would.
The rain wasn’t letting up at all, so when I arrived and couldn’t find the correct entrance I ended up wandering around in the rain until I found a friendly staff member who jokingly escorted me – offered his arm and all – to the back entrance of the ballroom. There turned out to be 200 people there, and I ended up running into quite a few people I already knew and learned that even though I knew a lot of them independent of one another, they actually knew each other!
I ended up sitting at a table with the people I’d met on the Ticknock hike a few weeks prior and two guys who seemed to be about my age ended up taking the seats to one side of me. The dinner was three courses and took 30-45 min per course (for whatever reason) so we had a good while to kill with conversation. The two said they were locals to Naas and Dublin, and several minutes into the conversation one of the guys commented that the U.S. population consumes a large proportion of meat. As he was saying this, I realised that they hadn’t asked where I was from and neither seemed to be watching for my reaction to the comment, so I gathered that neither had guessed my country of origin. I briefly considered saying something because it felt a bit sly to keep quiet about it, but I didn’t want to interrupt and wasn’t really sure how to interject with that information without seeming abrupt, so I let it go, figuring the moment would pass. A few minutes later, on an entirely different thread of conversation, he brought up the U.S. healthcare system. He mentioned that it’s not very efficient, and this time he looked directly at me and politely started giving a bit of background on how expensive and relatively inefficient the system is, in case I didn’t already know. I felt that moment was also pretty inopportune for interjection and would simply come across as rude if I turned around said “yes, actually I do already know.”
Further on, he went on a tangent comparing southern baptist preachers’ beard with Islamic terrorists’ beards – definitely the weirdest part of the conversation, which even earned me a sympathetic look from one of the girls across the table who happened to overhear that part – and I definitely wasn’t about to volunteer any associating information then. This was followed by him discussing the recent U.S.–Iranian nuclear conflict, at which time I was completely content letting them both assume I was from wherever else. Sometime after that the less talkative guy finally realised they hadn’t actually asked me where I was from. I replied as nonchalantly as possible, “Florida,” and he pushed his chair back from the table and said “what!? You mean you’re American?” and the only suitable reply I could come up with was “yep.” As he continued to flip out, the other guy, who kept bringing up the U.S., seemed slightly less shocked but still seemed internally conflicted and said “oh yeah, I wasn’t sure where you were from.” Meanwhile the first guy continued spouting “I completely thought you were Irish. I had no idea…” and the like, and stared at me in absolute bewilderment. I assured them I wasn’t offended by anything they’d said (and they hadn’t said anything untrue either), but sure enough no one brought up the U.S. after that.
Throughout the dinner and the dancing my friends would introduce me to their friends who’d introduce me to their friends and so on, so I began to understand why it seemed everyone knew everyone. It got to the point where I couldn’t even remember the names of all the people I’d met – but that was also perhaps because I was quite tired by then. Thankfully I made it home in the end!
On actual Valentine’s Day I was heading to Sacred Heart, an assisted living residence in Raheny near my grandad’s house. I stopped at a shop on the way to get some chocolates for Catherine, a witty nonagenarian I visit every other Friday. Every time I walk in she puts down her paper – which she’s read daily for as long as she can remember – and I ask if there’s anything interesting and she simply says “not really!” When she saw the chocolates she was ecstatic and said she loves chocolate and perfume. Later in the conversation she mentioned that it’s someone’s birthday just down the hall from her and the sisters were making a big fuss about it, but that when her birthday comes around she doesn’t want a big fuss. I wasn’t able to get a specific date out of her, but she said her birthday is at the end of March, so I made a mental note of it.
We usually just sit and chat for a couple hours about life and anything in the paper that I find interesting. She’ll ask me about my driving lessons, where I live, where I work, where I’m from and my family, and she tells me of her family, the different places she’s lived in Ireland (she still goes up to Cavan each weekend to visit family), and how things are quite different now. [Writing this now in late April, that was the last time I was able to see Catherine before visitors were barred from the residence due to Covid-19, which means I missed her birthday, but I’m hoping I can make up for it later!]
Another Friday was babysitting, or as they call it here “child minding,” which sounds so much… nicer? Less agressive?? Anyway, our downstairs neighbour has three girls, ages 6, 8 and 12 and she asked us to watch them, so we had a hair and makeup night, topped off with Frozen II. My flatmate had actually asked me previously if I wanted to watch it with her but I’m not much of a movie person to start with, and particularly didn’t have much interest in a second Frozen. However I actually got a great kick out of several parts of the movie – mainly Olaf’s shenanigans. The best one, in my opinion, is his entire song about how “everything will all make sense when I am older.” Good one Olaf.
We had a wine night with a few of our neighbours – which also ended up being a girls night. Everyone brought a bottle of wine, we had cheese and crackers (we literally have a cheese shelf in our fridge, we have so many different types), I happened to have baked cookies that day, and our 12-year-old neighbour also brought homemade cookies (and her own fizzy drink of course). We talked about (their) kids , moving countries (from Northern Ireland, France, and the U.S.), and moving elsewhere, since one family is moving to Dundalk in a couple months to be closer to work and family since they’re originally from Armagh, and another family is moving elsewhere in Malahide.
In late January our letting agent called me asking if we were planning on staying in the apartment for another year. In the previous conversations we’d had, I thought I had been pretty clear that we really wanted to stay, but perhaps not, and I said of course we did. He said he’d talk to the landlord and get back to us in “a couple weeks.” I did the math in my head and realised that a couple weeks would take us all the way up to the end of our lease, but surely we would have to be given a certain amount of notice before being forced to move out if that were the case? Thankfully the letting agent, the kindhearted soul he is, rang me back later that same day to say that he understood our concern and wanted to give us an answer sooner so he managed to get a hold of the landlord, who was happy to let us stay for another year! I was ecstatic, not only because I love where we live and the apartment itself, but also because the thought of having to move yet again, after over five years of having to move every year and sometimes every few months, and all the trouble renting a car and moving furniture and whatnot, it was painful to even consider having to do it all over again. In fact, I was so relieved that I completely forgot to ask if the rent would increase – the cap is 4% annually. A few days later when I enquired he chuckled and said lightheartedly, “no, we’ll be kind to you this year.” I wholeheartedly believe, even more than I did before, that God leads you where you’re meant to be – you just have to be patient and listen.
Even though I finished my required six driving lessons in early December, I’ve continued to take additional practice lessons to prep for the test. Some days it seemed like I’d made no progress at all, and others I felt like I might actually pass the test if I took it there and then. After each lesson I started making a list of all the mistakes I’d made that day, both major and minor (though it feels like all mistakes are major ones according to exam facilitators), and I saw the list get marginally shorter with each lesson, and there usually weren’t any repeats at least. After I think the 12th lesson my instructor told me I was ready to request an exam date! Within a week they’d scheduled it for March 20th. [Again, writing this much later: all driving tests were cancelled just a week before I was meant to take mine, due to Covid-19. So who knows when it’ll happen now.]
I was meant to take two practice driving exams in the two weeks before my test, with a week to “recover” after each one because the instructor tries to make it that difficult and stressful. Unfortunately I didn’t end up taking the first one because I was so stressed out in general with stuff going on at work and otherwise. During the second one I technically took two “tests.” The first one I failed in about five minutes because he purposefully told me to take the “next available left,” and I was looking for the catch but couldn’t find one. It turned out that the traffic lights, upon approach, obstructed a sign that said “no left turn between 7am-10am Mon-Fri,” so not having seen the sign and witnessing a car in front of me just turning left onto that road, I didn’t see any issue. My mistake.
Remember my grandad’s (fixer-upper) house? Well it was sold to a young couple with two little kids just before Christmas and they’re putting an extension out the back. My old neighbours invited me over for tea and they brought me out to their back garden to see the house, since they’d had to knock down most of the dividing wall. The family had to apply for planning permission from the city council and had to inform the neighbours of their plans (since it affected their property) so they showed me the proposed plans. My former neighbours want to introduce us (also because the father of the new family is a civil engineer) when they actually move in, so I’m looking forward to it.
Where in the World is Meriel 
Pleased to hear that you do not have to move at the end of the year lease. Moving can be such a pain. Good luck as you begin your second year, albeit in a new normal. Carolyn finished her freshman year online at USF and is taking two of her nursing classes online this summer. Danielle has completed her junior year at Holy Trinity and is hoping that her senior year will have a more traditional ending than this year did for the seniors. Thanks for continuing to share your adventures with us.
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