Going, going, gone

Everything is packed, all ready to go. Now it's only a matter of travelling by car, then bus, then plane, then train and finally car to get home. I am armed with a fully charged iPod, two books and a sudoku magazine. You may or may not hear from me over the next two weeks. If you don't I'll be back at the end of the month. Otherwise, I'll be reporting on my holiday antics. Either way, I shall be seeing you.

The Joys Of Packing

I have once again brought out my battered and much travelled suitcase. The cats were very interested as to how they might gain access inside the case. Lily in particular knows that the appearance of The Pink Thing is always followed by the absence of a Food Bringer/Belly Scratcher. She needn't worry this time, Mr. S is staying home so the two furballs won't have to encounter the horror that is The Strange Food Bringer.

Excuse me? How do I get in here?

I am going home (Finland) for the first time since last October and can barely believe it's been a year. I got my flights very cheap from Aer Lingus. A quick look at their site now and it would seem that I really did get a bargain; same flights now would set me back about €100 more than they did in the beginning of September. And what's more it's a direct flight. I normally fly with Scandinavian Airlines because they fly throughout the year whereas Lingus only flies between March and November, but all of the SAS flights include a stopover in Copenhagen, Oslo or Stockholm. Saying that, shopping at Copenhagen airport is bloody fantastic!

So, anyhoo... I need to decide what to pack for two weeks while leaving room for stuff to bring back home (Ireland). Stuff like salmiakki sweets, rye bread and some moose meat. Normally on the flight back to Ireland I'm hoping and praying my bag doesn't get chosen for a random security check. Packing for Finnish autumn weather is tricky to say the least. You could pack your summer and winter wardrobes and still find yourself woefully unprepared for the weather conditions. I have been religiously checking the weather at my parent's town and have decided to bring layers that'll keep me warm and dry but at the same time I'll be able to peel stuff off in case it gets warmer.

I am ridiculously excited to get going. I finish work on Monday, and I'm catching a bus from Galway to Dublin 1am that night. Travel up to Dublin, check in, four hour flight to Helsinki, grab a taxi to the train station, four-something hours on the train to Eastern Finland and the final leg of the journey in the car with my parents for an hour. I'm looking at a little over 20 hours of travel in total. Better charge up my iPod! I'm lucky enough to be able to sleep on planes and trains; all I need is my earphones in and my trusty megascarf which doubles as a blanket. Sorted.

I have very little planned for when I actually get there. Catching up with friends and family, eating my body weight in Finnish foods, relaxing and recharging my batteries. Not having had more than a few days off together since last christmas has taken its toll. I feel tired and drained but knowing a two week break is just a few days away will be enough to get me through until Monday evening.

Absence

Oh, hello! Long time, no see. I've been preoccupied for the last few weeks, and for that, my sincere apologies. I will, however, make no apologies for thoroughly enjoying my self-imposed blog absence. During which, by the way, I didn't go anywhere near my laptop for anything other than a spot of online banking. It's handy having an iPhone, isn't it? Email, Facebook and Twitter all there, with me all the time with no need to sit down at a keyboard and type anything. For blogging, I find the iPhone just too small. I like having more room to play with when it comes to posting. I have a few blogging apps on my phone but none of them have felt right. Any suggestions are more than welcome, by the way.

Anyway, the last week of august saw my dear old brother visit us with two of his friends. Him and his friend flew over from Finland, rented a car in Dublin and headed towards the lovely west coast. Meanwhile his other friend was on his motorbike, somewhere between Cork and Mr S's hotel en route. My brother arrived around dinnertime with his friend. Friend on motorbike appeared about a pint and a half later, walking like John Wayne. 650km in one day on Irish roads on a motorbike will do that to you, I guarantee it.

The following day was dedicated to travel up north to Enniskillen via Sligo and Bundoran. In Enniskillen the lads very nearly became local celebrities when people realised the lad on the motorbike is the spitting image of Brian O'Driscoll. Newspapers were pulled out to demonstrate the uncanny resemblance. Couldn't argue with it, he does look a lot like him. Needless to say, for the rest of the trip he was known as Brian.

After a night in Enniskillen it was back to base where Brian had to follow his obsession to climb a mountain. The rest of us decided on a slightly less arduous activity of visiting our house and having a couple of drinks at the local before heading back to the hotel with the promise of heaps of mussels and prawns accompanied by nice, chilled Pinot Grigio. Brian had found his way back down from the mountain, but it was the road leading to the hotel that had him stumped. Determined, he was marching along the road in the wrong direction when a friendly local picked him up and dropped him off at the hotel. A detail Brian failed to mention until quizzed on it.

My brother didn't think there was enough lemon
on his friend's prawns

Brian deep in thought after is mountain trek

We ate (some more than others) until fit to burst, after which Brian retired up to his room. Three of us continued propping up the bar until it was decided it was far too late to be up, considering the lads were to travel to Dublin the following day. Bedtime.

Some of us ate more than others

Friday morning saw my brother and Brian having their now customary topless wrestling match on the front lawn of Mr S's hotel, to great amusement of Mr S's mother. And hotel guests. And passing motorists. After a brief visit to the abbey, where Brian decided to sit that one out and my brother and his friend came up with a brilliant idea of a karaoke bus, it was time to say goodbye. The visit was brief but most welcome. The tail lights of the Astra and Honda were the last thing I saw. They all made it home, safe and sound.

Tail lights say goodbye

 Do call again!

Questionable Festivities

There's been some reason for celebrations lately, hasn't there? First there was Easter, with bunnies and chocolate and the breaking of Lent for those who observe such customs. I don't. I don't like to deny myself anything, if at all possible.

Here in Ireland, we followed the long Bank Holiday weekend of easter with another long Bank Holiday weekend because it was the beginning of May. Cause for celebrations, no doubt. Locally, in my corner of the world, the May Bank Holiday weekend always plays host to the local Mussel Festival. Local pub, marquee or two, bucketloads of mussels, great chefs, live music and plenty to drink. My friend Kenneth was playing at the opening of the festival on friday, I'd say the festivities and the food rivalled that of a certain high-profile wedding that was going on at the same time in London.

I tried not to get caught up in the wedding hype but still found myself trying to catch a glimpse of Kate's wedding dress on colleague's iPad which was conveniently streaming live footage via Sky News. I loved her dress and her sister's dress. That evening, when calling into my neighbour's we watched the highlights and laughed when her son came in with the comment "William is punching way above his weight there". Which is true, he does look very horse-y. Harry on the other hand...

Then, from across the Big Pond came news that everyone's Number One Enemy, Osama Bin Laden has been sent to meet his maker by the US Navy SEALs. Seeing the footage of people celebrating made a little bit sick. I am in no way condoning what he did but celebrating someone's death in such a way made me uneasy. Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth will leave us all being fitted for dentures and learning Braille. I know this quote by Martin Luther King Jr. has been bandied about a lot recently, but it does seem to capture the mood of a lot of people:

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

I have been tempted to speculate whether or not this bit of news is actually an elaborate hoax cooked up by the White House/CIA/FBI/NSA/X-files/Aliens to boost Obama's popularity. Withholding any photographs while deliberating if it's appropriate to publish them (photos of dead bodies have been a permanent feature in any news cast for a while now, why so cautious about publishing these?), not that I have any interest in seeing them. The timing of his death, quite soon after the whole hoo-ha about his birth certificate. And loads more fuel to the conspiracy theory fire. 

Fighting fire with fire doesn't seem to be the best options, especially when you think of the explosive global political climate we are in now. Riots, revolutions, protests and such are happening globally. Taking such joy out of having killed a man (no matter how evil) seems to me a bit foolish. You're attracting the wrong kind of fans. The kinds who love to hate. 

I, on the other hand am wholeheartedly embracing the 4th of May as the important, international holiday that it is: Star Wars Day. I'm glad to see that the twitter hashtag #maythe4thbewithyou has overtaken the likes of #obl #binladen and anything else less celebratory. I think it may well be time to dig out the old DVDs and spend hours watching these sci-fi masterpieces. And just for clarification purposes, these masterpieces include episodes 4, 5 and 6. Episodes 1, 2 and 3 are not recognised in this household as Star Wars movies. The only good thing about them was Liam Neeson, and even he isn't brilliant enough to balance out the horror that is Jar Jar Binks. 

Surprise!

Ahh, I felt a proper feeling of accomplishment when I got to yell that at Dublin airport Thursday morning two weeks ago. That was the little surprise myself and Mr S had planned for my visiting family. I had emailed dad with bus timetables and the like, instructing them to take the bus from the airport to Galway where we'd pick them up. Tee hee. They were pleased and so were we.

The five days they were here went by in a blur. We walked miles in the national park, the abbey, on the beaches, we ate well (thanks to Mr S's mother) and drank even better, listened to traditional music and generally showed them what my life is like here on the edge of Europe. It was so good to catch up! I got the usual pressies, too; rye bread, salmiakki sweets, coffee, chocolate and sausages. Yup, they really made sure I wasn't going to go hungry any time soon. Most of the sweets are gone, as is most of the sausages, too. I'm rationing the rye bread, mainly because it has an interesting effect on my digestive system, something Mr S calls "the after burn". So, in order for him to avoid having to use a gas mask on entering the house, I'm limiting myself to a couple of slices per day.

My parents brought me this painting. It's been sitting in their house waiting to be moved here and finally, after 10 years of me getting it, it's finally here! The vase/pot in the painting is the spitting image of a pot my granny used for butter in my dad's home. Granny brought the pot from what is now Russia, where she was born before the war when it was still a part of Finland and I'm sure it's seen a lot in it's day. It's still there, in the old kitchen where my dad's side of the family gathers for midsummer every year. Mum and dad spotted the painting somewhere and got it for me as a graduation present. It now has the pride of place on our dining room wall.

  My little bit of a holiday was over too fast and I returned to work with a bang. This Easter was the busiest we've ever seen it, making it exhausting to work in the process. It was all worth it, though, we did have a very successful Easter egg hunt in the gardens, and two Easter bunnies hopping about the place. More on that later, I'm off to enjoy the lazy day off with Mr S.

Ahem...

One measly post in the entire month of July? Shame on me. Just goes to show how easily my resolve to write something at least once a week crumbled like the last hob nob you fished out of the bottom of the packet of biscuits.

I have returned from spending time with my family, weighing a good few pounds more and having done some possibly irreversible damage to my already long-suffering liver. The wedding was a great do altogether, lasting all in all for about three days. It was great to see family I haven't seen in years but I must admit, 4 days staying in close proximity of each other did in fact confirm that I did make the right decision in moving out of the country. Some family members more so than others, but we'll leave the details open to speculation.

Booze and food. Staple summer holiday diet. I should've known where it all was heading when, on my arrival to my brother's house I was presented with a champagne breakfast. It was 8.30am on a Friday morning. In my defence, it was ridiculously hot. +32 being the average temperature in the shade for most of the time I was there. And everybody knows nothing quenches your thirst like a nice, ice cold beer on a hot summer's day. Or morning.

So in my post-holiday food and booze hangover I have resolved to start a Better Life. Vol. 317 by my calculations. In all seriousness, I am aware that largely this is due to me approaching 30, and starting to be painfully aware of the fact that I am not getting any younger (physically, that is, mentally I'm still somewhere between 13 and 18 depending on the day). More exercise, less crap food and most definitely less booze. That last bit might have to wait until the end of the summer. See how determined I am?

We'll see how it goes, but I'm starting to feel sorry for Mr S already. When I deny myself things it's usually him, who gets the brunt of my frustrations...

All Things Cheesy

Having just realised my last few posts were me moaning about work, I have decided to steer clear of that subject for a while.

Had a flying start to the day today. Mr S had kindly switched off my alarm this morning, thinking I'd set it accidentally seeing as it is my day off. Too bad he'd forgotten I had a massage appointment at 11.30. Woke up at 10.30 and had a mad dash from the coffee machine to the shower to the wardrobe and into the car. I'm sure I looked a real state arriving at the salon. Not to worry, I felt so relaxed just getting under the towel and waiting for my trusty masseuse to arrive I think I fell asleep just a bit.

I baked a cheesecake yesterday because I promised a friend I would feed her today. She's not answering her phone which is either due loss of signal because of the stormy weather or another one of her electronic lifelines has died. Main problem now being the presence of cheesecake in my fridge. It's a whole cheesecake and I'm very very tempted to bury my face in it. In case my friend resurfaces at some stage I better leave her a slice. I also saw Mr S's lusty looks thrown in the direction of the cheesecake this morning, maybe best save him some, too. Although he very thoughtlessly ate all the Snickers ice cream from the freezer the last night, not to mention last week's Viennetta "incident". Maybe I'll just have the whole thing to myself, then.

I've booked flights to go to Finland for my cousin's wedding in July. I now face the eternal "what to wear" problem. Times like these I could easily turn an advocate for nude weddings, funerals and christenings. I have found some nice dresses online but I really need to try things on properly and for some reason the delivery times are anything up to 4weeks. I cannot possibly buy something, wait for a month to get it, try it on and then realise it doesn't suit me which leaves me with a wasted month out of my shopping time and the frustration of being back to square one after having thought I had everything sorted.

This Friday marks the May Day celebrations in Finland. Before strictly speaking a communist holiday, the students of Finland have since adopted the day as their own. Parties usually kick off on 30th of April with plenty of white hats (you get one when you graduate from secondary school) teamed with some ridiculous outfits wandering around cities and towns en masse. Picnics, song, dance and plenty of drink all night long. As a nations, Finns don't do lunch as such. Apart from 1st of May that is. Many a May Day I have trekked to a friend's house or a restaurant or some other establishment serving food (and preferably alcoholic beverages) sporting my white hat and a hangover the size of Greenland just to take part in May Day Lunch. I miss that and can't quite understand how the Irish have missed out on an opportunity to get sloshed and then go and have a boozy lunch the day after. I should probably start a petition to declare May Day a national holiday in Ireland, too. That, and Midsummer.

I really miss Finnish booze holidays...

Miles high

My holidays are getting closer very fast. I was talking to my parents yesterday and realised how much I'm missing them. I really cannot wait to get there! This time next week I'll be at Helsinki airport, tucking into some vary tasty rye bread, drinking good, Finnish coffee and waiting for my connecting flight.

I have already made plans to meet up with friends, see relatives and generally just chill out and do as little as possible. It is a holiday after all. I'm working right up until my holidays, I'm going to the airport more or less straight from work. I prefer it that way, I can jump onto the plane and go to sleep. Unless I'm unfortunate enough to get seated beside someone who insists on asking where and why I'm traveling. Which usually is my cue to turn up the volume on my iPod and pretend I've gone deaf.

I spent an excruciating 3 hours on a flight from Copenhagen to Dublin listening to the man seated beside me tell me in detail how he nearly missed the plane because of the bus strike which was on in Copenhagen at the time. There, I've just managed to squeeze the 2,5 hour long story into one sentence. The only reason I had to sit through that story was that I had forgotten to pack my iPod so I had no escape.The airline's own in-flight magazine didn't exactly provide enough cover.

Another time I spent a flight from Dublin to Helsinki getting out of my aisle seat every 40 minutes or so to let one or the other of the two women seated beside me, to go and use the bathroom. Every 40 minutes. They were taking turns. I was trying to sleep. I suggested I take the window seat but I was told they "liked to look at the clouds". Seriously, ladies. The least they could've done was stop drinking tiny little cans of lager...