An Educational Weekend

Spent Cooking, Organizing, and Generally Familiarizing

When one arrives in Ireland, one is charmed by its winding, narrow streets, the lack of postal codes and building numbers, the way the tinny horns of compact cars sound at one another in momentary traffic jams at complicated intersections. Then one attempts to navigate oneself to destinations one has never visited before, and all of these previously endearing traits of the city begin to frustrate one.

I have never had much of a sense of direction, and that is, at times, all you've got to work with in Cork City. I'm sure this is true throughout the country. Street names and building names are the sole components of street addresses, but the buildings themselves do assign numbers to individual apartments. (My address, for example, is Rachel Sherck, apartment 7, Leeside Apartments, Bachelor's Quay, Cork, Ireland. Hint, hint.) Streets seem to have intended to form a grid of north/south and east/west inclination, but then got distracted and drifted about, sagging at the center, one end curling up like a tail. Luckily there are some "main" streets, and whenever I get lost, I just try to find the water and follow it back to my section of the Quays. The fact that the Leeside building is large and pink doesn't hurt, either.

Yesterday I woke up late, but ready to tackle grocery shopping. Megan from Massachusetts and I headed out at about two o'clock, and went to the fairly famous English Market, a covered market established about four hundred years ago by James I. Aside from being lovely and impressive, it offered pretty good bargains on fresh produce (mainly potatoes and onions, which are luckily what I needed). Vendors' stalls ranged from butchers, organic farmers, and herbalists to those with a more random assortment of wares: boxes of canned goods in one pile with apples, potatoes, jars of pickles, bottles of mustard, the odd individually wrapped hostess cake. I bought my potatoes and evaporated milk from an older gentleman who priced potatoes in four kilo increments and became frustrated when I tried to buy only four. He filled my bag up to meet the apparent weight minimum and collected my euros, then informed me he would throw in "two free cakes." My momentary excitement - this is a farmer! His wife probably baked cakes this morning! - dissipated instantly when he tossed two boxes of weight watchers cake slices into the paper bag and thrust it at me. Megan and I observed that the expiration date on their packaging was for the following day.

We also visited a book store, where I bought a notebook and some post-its, chiding myself for packing no school supplies. In the store's upper story where these supplies were shelved, back-to-school shopping seemed to be underway. I watched children with armloads of folders, fistfuls of watercolors and colorful pencils, and felt through all the other strangeness the warmth of familiarity.

It was raining, which should not have surprised us, when we came back out. I ducked my head and tried to shield my paper bag with my body. The potatoes were trying its weight capacity, and the bottom was already damp, so I held it with both hands and we rushed uncomfortably back to the building. There we both made soup, improvising considerably within our respective lists of ingredients. I made do without seasoned salt, or bacon, less because of its availability than because I had spontaneously become a vegetarian that morning.

I felt up to making phone calls home, which began with difficulty but concluded happily. With food in the refrigerator, I felt I'd really staked a serious claim.

Today we ventured out again, this time for "real" hot chocolate at a chocolate shop selling 99% cocoa dark chocolate bars the size of a human limb. Then we walked to a pub - the Raven - to watch the Cork versus Kerry gaelic football game. Gaelic football might actually be a sport I could enjoy watching, with the occasional interlude during which opponents shove and shout at one another or pitch the ball at an official. The teams were close in the first half, but in the second Kerry ran away with the game, and with a few minutes left the announcers were all but calling the result of the game. Then Cork thrilled the pub's entire populace with two late goals to win in overtime. Even we amateurs in the audience were caught up in the excitement.

Back at the apartments, I realized I'd gone through an entire day without experiencing anything but contentment and excitement for the weeks, the few short months, to come. I'm sure the homesickness will come again, probably sooner rather than later, but now that I've come through the other side of its cycle, at least I know it will pass, too.