First up, the Netherlands series wraps up with Amsterdam and Haarlem over on my legit writing website. Give it a click if you care to see the urban counterpart to our rural, flowery adventure.
I've recently taken a big step in the process of writing Five Suitcases, the personal memoir of the first two years of my expat experience. Until this point, the book has been written like a series of blog posts – disparate stories in separate files that relate to each other...more or less.
I preferred to start the book this way because the short-form personal story is my most comfortable writing format. Look no further than this blog to see the 500+ vignettes I've put pounded together about water heaters, concert reviews, supermarket visits, and old video games. Thinking one massive document to be unwieldy and overwhelming, I wrote the various stories of the book like very long blog posts, making references and connections when convenient.
But no longer! I have now created one long document in which to do the rest of the writing and editing of the book. Currently weighing in at 80,000 words – a bit more than twice the length of The Frugal Guide: Dublin, which is still available for free at all fine eBook distributors – this book has all the bulk it will ever need. Any new stories I tell (and I want to tell more!) will most likely replace sidebars, exaggerations, and analogies that must be left on the proverbial cutting room floor. Reading through everything I've written over the past six months, said floor looks like it will be quite messy. Does the finished book really need a long reflection about the value of a Midwest American basement? Probably not.
I was surprised to see this word count staring back at me as I pasted the final chapter into my now-massive document. All those weeks of hitting my 5000 word quota had seemed to pay off, and all the individual documents in my Five Suitcases folder had really added up to something significant.
I'm excited to have reached this stage, although I know this will be the hardest part of the project. Taking a series of (hopefully) funny stories and turning them into a cohesive product that will be read (again hopefully) in longer sessions, cover-to-cover, looks to be a laborious process. Jokes about Gareth...er...Garth Brooks and Irish Water are great, but how do they relate to the Barry's/Lyons tea battle or the struggle to understand a roller coaster accent through a tiny disposable phone speaker?
Happily, things are right on track for my nebulous "Late 2015" self-publishing deadline. Later this summer, be on the lookout for a chance to preview the book and provide feedback. All volunteers get secret access to this early e-publisher's proof, a free copy of the final e-book when it is released, and the chance to be forever e-immortalized in the acknowledgements of all editions of the final book. That's much better than money, right?
Monday, May 25, 2015
Friday, May 15, 2015
Finally!
A long time ago, WAY back in 2013, we were struggling to figure out the ins and outs of our new Irish apartment. What is this strange washer in the kitchen? Why do all of the power sockets have switches...and why is there just a weird "shavers only" plug on the bathroom light? Are these Irish things or just big city things? Does every Irish home use an immersion water heater? Why does the water from that heater come out of our separate hot and cold water taps at skin-melting temperatures?
This week, Sara showed me a video that quickly explains why many of our apartment oddities (or normalities, depending on who is doing the asking) are the way they are. This video – from the Anglophenia series, which humorously explains British culture to Americans – is a good primer for anyone in the States to see what one might expect in an English home.
Yes, the video series is about England, not Ireland, and the Irish would be after me if I ever compared Ireland to the UK in any way. But there's simply no denying that the English left a pretty strong cultural impression when they finally let (most of) Ireland have independence. Left-side driving on the roads, blood sausage and curry sauce, rugby, and, of course, the English language.
Onward! In the video, our host explains the dual-use washer/dryer in the kitchen – although she leaves out the part about clothing not being dry after a two-hour drying cycle. She goes on to explain why there aren't any power sockets in the bathroom – so that's why we can't listen to the radio while we're in the shower? And hot and cold water taps are still separate...just because? I've been burning my fingers for nothing!
Interestingly, the last thing she shows us is the window – as she demonstrates that there isn't central heating or air conditioning in the mild climate of the British Isles – and she cracks that leaving the window open will lead to a room full of pigeons. Canny Americans will wonder, "How are birds getting in through the screen?"
How indeed? Not being plagued by sky-blocking swarms of mosquitoes, homes in the UK and Ireland usually don't need screens blocking the few precious rays of direct sunlight that filter through the clouds to their homes.
So there you are, American friends. If you've ever wondered what terrible hardships we suffer in our day-to-day lives, this video is a good start. A bathroom with no counter space? A washer and dryer that doesn't do either very well? Electrical outlets (and very few of them, mind) with switches? Believe it or not, it's possible to survive in such circumstances...somehow.
This week, Sara showed me a video that quickly explains why many of our apartment oddities (or normalities, depending on who is doing the asking) are the way they are. This video – from the Anglophenia series, which humorously explains British culture to Americans – is a good primer for anyone in the States to see what one might expect in an English home.
Yes, the video series is about England, not Ireland, and the Irish would be after me if I ever compared Ireland to the UK in any way. But there's simply no denying that the English left a pretty strong cultural impression when they finally let (most of) Ireland have independence. Left-side driving on the roads, blood sausage and curry sauce, rugby, and, of course, the English language.
Onward! In the video, our host explains the dual-use washer/dryer in the kitchen – although she leaves out the part about clothing not being dry after a two-hour drying cycle. She goes on to explain why there aren't any power sockets in the bathroom – so that's why we can't listen to the radio while we're in the shower? And hot and cold water taps are still separate...just because? I've been burning my fingers for nothing!
How indeed? Not being plagued by sky-blocking swarms of mosquitoes, homes in the UK and Ireland usually don't need screens blocking the few precious rays of direct sunlight that filter through the clouds to their homes.
So there you are, American friends. If you've ever wondered what terrible hardships we suffer in our day-to-day lives, this video is a good start. A bathroom with no counter space? A washer and dryer that doesn't do either very well? Electrical outlets (and very few of them, mind) with switches? Believe it or not, it's possible to survive in such circumstances...somehow.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Just Back from Holland
...And boy are my tulips tired!
We are freshly back in Dublin after a holiday weekend trip to Haarlem, Amsterdam, and the surrounding countryside of the Netherlands. When we first booked the trip, we weren't really thinking flowers, although we should have made the connection right away: Holland, spring, tulips. If the super-Dutch communities we knew in Iowa (the city of Pella and most of Sioux County) went crazy about tulips – and heavy censorship, xenophobia, racism, and Dutch Reform religious bigotry – then what might we expect to see in the home of...actual Dutch people?
Yes, lots of flowers. We took a long bicycle ride through the many commercial-scale bulb flower fields and visited a popular (read: crowded) garden packed with artfully-arranged displays of Holland's most famous export. The gardens were amazing, even with the crowds. It happened to be family weekend, so I was privileged to watch part of a live performance of Sesame Street (Sesame Straat) characters singing and dancing in Dutch. Elmo gave a particularly touching performance of I'd Like to Visit the Moon. No translation needed for such a classic.
We also spent some time in Haarlem and Amsterdam, the former of which is famous for its namesake neighborhood in New York, the latter is most well known for...things the hardline Dutch Reform folks in Iowa might find...improper. Especially given that they famously edited the title of a certain Johnny Knoxville sequel to read, "Jackbutt 2" on their public movie marquee.
Our visit to Amsterdam was just a day trip, the perfect time for the tourist not wishing to partake in some of the city's more infamous entertainment or pay a stiff entrance fee for the art museums and the Anne Frank House. We spent the day walking through the various neighborhoods with our favorite (non-sponsored plug) Rick Steves book and audio guides. The canals and streets were full of bicycles, beautiful gabled building fronts, trees, cruise boats, and things that might have made the "Jackbutt 2" Dutch in Iowa pass out and fall into the water in shock.
Our last day was spent taking a similar stroll through Haarlem. It has its own charm and its own interesting history, but with fewer canals and much smaller crowds.
I'm writing a series of articles over on Five Suitcases with less personal accounts of our Dutch holiday. The first article covers the details of a day of cycling through the flower fields and visiting Keukenhof, the famous flower garden. More articles about Haarlem and Amsterdam to come.
We are freshly back in Dublin after a holiday weekend trip to Haarlem, Amsterdam, and the surrounding countryside of the Netherlands. When we first booked the trip, we weren't really thinking flowers, although we should have made the connection right away: Holland, spring, tulips. If the super-Dutch communities we knew in Iowa (the city of Pella and most of Sioux County) went crazy about tulips – and heavy censorship, xenophobia, racism, and Dutch Reform religious bigotry – then what might we expect to see in the home of...actual Dutch people?
 |
| Flowers |
 |
| More Flowers |
 |
| Few More Flowers |
Yes, lots of flowers. We took a long bicycle ride through the many commercial-scale bulb flower fields and visited a popular (read: crowded) garden packed with artfully-arranged displays of Holland's most famous export. The gardens were amazing, even with the crowds. It happened to be family weekend, so I was privileged to watch part of a live performance of Sesame Street (Sesame Straat) characters singing and dancing in Dutch. Elmo gave a particularly touching performance of I'd Like to Visit the Moon. No translation needed for such a classic.
We also spent some time in Haarlem and Amsterdam, the former of which is famous for its namesake neighborhood in New York, the latter is most well known for...things the hardline Dutch Reform folks in Iowa might find...improper. Especially given that they famously edited the title of a certain Johnny Knoxville sequel to read, "Jackbutt 2" on their public movie marquee.
 |
| Non-Sleazy Amsterdam |
Our visit to Amsterdam was just a day trip, the perfect time for the tourist not wishing to partake in some of the city's more infamous entertainment or pay a stiff entrance fee for the art museums and the Anne Frank House. We spent the day walking through the various neighborhoods with our favorite (non-sponsored plug) Rick Steves book and audio guides. The canals and streets were full of bicycles, beautiful gabled building fronts, trees, cruise boats, and things that might have made the "Jackbutt 2" Dutch in Iowa pass out and fall into the water in shock.
Our last day was spent taking a similar stroll through Haarlem. It has its own charm and its own interesting history, but with fewer canals and much smaller crowds.
 |
| Haarlem Street |
 |
| Grotekerk Church |
 |
| Old and New Building Fronts |
 |
| Finally! A Windmill! |
I'm writing a series of articles over on Five Suitcases with less personal accounts of our Dutch holiday. The first article covers the details of a day of cycling through the flower fields and visiting Keukenhof, the famous flower garden. More articles about Haarlem and Amsterdam to come.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Saved by the Sausage
We've all heard that some of our strongest links in sensory memory are made with taste and smell. I come in contact with smells almost daily that remind me of very, very specific times and places. That vaguely sweet smell wafting the storefront? Definitely chewy banana Runts candy. The scent of a room or a house visited for the first time? Easy, chicken loaf day in the school cafeteria.
For expats, the smells and tastes of home bring back a pleasing rush of nostalgia that is difficult to describe. The extended absence of these very specific foods makes the experience of eating them just that, an experience. Simple foods that were regular staples in Iowa are now rare treats for us, and we like it that way.
In the American Midwest, we grew up with the traditional foods of mixed Northern European–Americans. Not real Northern Europeans, mind you, whose foods would have been foreign and scary to a young me, but the children's children's children of Northern Europeans, whose food traditions mixed with those of other countries and the spirit of American industrialism to make the beautiful mishmash of Midwest American food.
Enter the sausage. I've written before about the American take on the European sausage. By boldly adding exotic spices, alternative meats and fillers, and appropriating completely different foods, we end up with such gems as pizza dogs, queso-and-jalapeno bratwurst, and turkey jerky.
One of my childhood favorites was kielbasa – the traditional Polish favorite brought to Midwest cities like Chicago by Central and Eastern European immigrants. Love of the stuff spread, and American supermarket shelves now offer a wide selection of traditional (and not so traditional) takes on this flavorful classic. I used to enjoy it grilled, fried, or cold from the fridge at midnight with potatoes, cabbage, mustard, or sauerkraut.
In Ireland, the sausage tradition is much more monotone. For most of its history, Ireland has been a nation of emigration rather than immigration; no one ever brought new food cultures to the country. Recently, when the Celtic Tiger was roaring, the nation finally began to welcome newcomers – including a massive Polish population – to its shores. The resulting mix of cultures (and outbreeding genes) was only a good thing for mostly-homogenous Ireland, as the Polish brought with them their sausage.
Craving a taste of my childhood recently, I paid a visit to on of Dublin's Polish import supermarkets serving the Eastern European population, who miss their homeland favorites just like I do. Like an excited child, I skipped through the aisles, looking at Midwest American foods in their purest form, and in great supply and variety. Dill pickles! Sauerkraut! Sausage! To be fair, I should say that many Irish supermarkets do stock Polish foods for their customers, but the price and variety doesn't compete with the Polish importers. Also, I find it strange and funny seeing American staple foods stuck in the ethnic food aisle next to the ramen noodles and Thai fish sauce.
The jar of dill pickles barely made it into the kitchen before I had my fingers in the brine. Washed with the salty, garlicky taste, I gave up any resistance and ate the whole jar, calling it lunch for the day. I had the courtesy to save the kielbasa and jar of kraut to share with Sara.
The kraut? Cooked with potatoes and carrots to make a mushy stew rich with the flavors of fermentation. The 'basa? Simple and no-nonsense: cut into coins and deeply browned in a skillet. The meal? Eaten before a picture could be taken.
Food memories are important, and nothing makes food taste better than a year without it. Now that I've found a reliable supplier of delicious nostalgic foods, I'm afraid I won't have the willpower to stay away for another year. Oh well, I'll always have boxed macaroni and cheese waiting for me back home.
For expats, the smells and tastes of home bring back a pleasing rush of nostalgia that is difficult to describe. The extended absence of these very specific foods makes the experience of eating them just that, an experience. Simple foods that were regular staples in Iowa are now rare treats for us, and we like it that way.
In the American Midwest, we grew up with the traditional foods of mixed Northern European–Americans. Not real Northern Europeans, mind you, whose foods would have been foreign and scary to a young me, but the children's children's children of Northern Europeans, whose food traditions mixed with those of other countries and the spirit of American industrialism to make the beautiful mishmash of Midwest American food.
Enter the sausage. I've written before about the American take on the European sausage. By boldly adding exotic spices, alternative meats and fillers, and appropriating completely different foods, we end up with such gems as pizza dogs, queso-and-jalapeno bratwurst, and turkey jerky.
 |
| The Iowa Gourmet |
One of my childhood favorites was kielbasa – the traditional Polish favorite brought to Midwest cities like Chicago by Central and Eastern European immigrants. Love of the stuff spread, and American supermarket shelves now offer a wide selection of traditional (and not so traditional) takes on this flavorful classic. I used to enjoy it grilled, fried, or cold from the fridge at midnight with potatoes, cabbage, mustard, or sauerkraut.
In Ireland, the sausage tradition is much more monotone. For most of its history, Ireland has been a nation of emigration rather than immigration; no one ever brought new food cultures to the country. Recently, when the Celtic Tiger was roaring, the nation finally began to welcome newcomers – including a massive Polish population – to its shores. The resulting mix of cultures (and outbreeding genes) was only a good thing for mostly-homogenous Ireland, as the Polish brought with them their sausage.
Craving a taste of my childhood recently, I paid a visit to on of Dublin's Polish import supermarkets serving the Eastern European population, who miss their homeland favorites just like I do. Like an excited child, I skipped through the aisles, looking at Midwest American foods in their purest form, and in great supply and variety. Dill pickles! Sauerkraut! Sausage! To be fair, I should say that many Irish supermarkets do stock Polish foods for their customers, but the price and variety doesn't compete with the Polish importers. Also, I find it strange and funny seeing American staple foods stuck in the ethnic food aisle next to the ramen noodles and Thai fish sauce.
The jar of dill pickles barely made it into the kitchen before I had my fingers in the brine. Washed with the salty, garlicky taste, I gave up any resistance and ate the whole jar, calling it lunch for the day. I had the courtesy to save the kielbasa and jar of kraut to share with Sara.
 |
| All of this Translates to "Delicious" |
The kraut? Cooked with potatoes and carrots to make a mushy stew rich with the flavors of fermentation. The 'basa? Simple and no-nonsense: cut into coins and deeply browned in a skillet. The meal? Eaten before a picture could be taken.
Food memories are important, and nothing makes food taste better than a year without it. Now that I've found a reliable supplier of delicious nostalgic foods, I'm afraid I won't have the willpower to stay away for another year. Oh well, I'll always have boxed macaroni and cheese waiting for me back home.
Monday, April 20, 2015
Dodder Day 2015
It's difficult to believe that a full year has gone by since my first River Dodder cleanup last spring. I wrote my first published Irish newspaper article covering the cleanup and, of course, blogged (and bragged) about it here.
Since then, I've become more active in the planning of the various Dodder events with the volunteer community organization Dodder Action. To promote last week's cleanup and show the impact only a few volunteers can have in a short time, I got together with a few other Dodder Action members under the main bridge in nearby Donnybrook to gather up what we could on only a short stretch of the river. We collected quite a mound.
A photographer from Irish newspaper the Herald stopped by to grab a story and a few photos. After the quick-clean for the photo shoot, I did some fishing and caught some great images of a heron catching and eating a large eel near a trashed motorcycle dumped over the river wall.
The event was a rousing success, as always. Hundreds of volunteers hauled out tons (and tonnes!) of litter, landfill spillover, dumped household appliances, and metal from the river. The stretches that I worked at Orwell, Donnybrook, and Herbert Park looked great after just a few hours' work from a small-but-dedicated group of local volunteers.
I got to know many of the neighborhood people, and they got to know each other, as we worked side by side caring for our shared resource. Everyone shared their stories about the river and how they use it, and I was playfully asked more than once, "I'll bet you didn't grow up on the Dodder, did you?" To which I could answer, "Nope, I grew up on a slightly larger river in North America – the Mississippi."
I found a nice letter to the editor in the Irish Times from a representative of the Dodder Anglers – another river-loving local club – praising not only the efforts of Dodder community residents, but local cleanings led by concerned volunteers around the country.
It is inspiring to see so many people in local neighborhoods gather to care for their local resources, be they rivers, trails, lakes, or parks. With so much isolationism and "It's not my responsibility!" sentiment around today, it's refreshing to hear a resounding, "It's not mine or yours, but our responsibility to keep our local treasures just that – treasures to be passed on."
If you are local in Dublin and would like to get involved in Dodder-specific activities, see Dodder Action's website for more information. If not, take this opportunity to find local community action groups in your own neighborhood and get involved. If you can't find one, start one! Government authorities are great for building community resources, but no one knows better how to care for their own neighborhood like good neighbors.
Since then, I've become more active in the planning of the various Dodder events with the volunteer community organization Dodder Action. To promote last week's cleanup and show the impact only a few volunteers can have in a short time, I got together with a few other Dodder Action members under the main bridge in nearby Donnybrook to gather up what we could on only a short stretch of the river. We collected quite a mound.
 |
| Donnybrook River Dodder Rubbish |
A photographer from Irish newspaper the Herald stopped by to grab a story and a few photos. After the quick-clean for the photo shoot, I did some fishing and caught some great images of a heron catching and eating a large eel near a trashed motorcycle dumped over the river wall.
Why am I cleaning w/ @DodderAction tomorrow? This heron enjoying an eel near a trashed motorcycle. S/he deserves more pic.twitter.com/nXvBD3jEAm
— Cory Hanson (@HansonCory1) April 17, 2015
The event was a rousing success, as always. Hundreds of volunteers hauled out tons (and tonnes!) of litter, landfill spillover, dumped household appliances, and metal from the river. The stretches that I worked at Orwell, Donnybrook, and Herbert Park looked great after just a few hours' work from a small-but-dedicated group of local volunteers.
I got to know many of the neighborhood people, and they got to know each other, as we worked side by side caring for our shared resource. Everyone shared their stories about the river and how they use it, and I was playfully asked more than once, "I'll bet you didn't grow up on the Dodder, did you?" To which I could answer, "Nope, I grew up on a slightly larger river in North America – the Mississippi."
I found a nice letter to the editor in the Irish Times from a representative of the Dodder Anglers – another river-loving local club – praising not only the efforts of Dodder community residents, but local cleanings led by concerned volunteers around the country.
It is inspiring to see so many people in local neighborhoods gather to care for their local resources, be they rivers, trails, lakes, or parks. With so much isolationism and "It's not my responsibility!" sentiment around today, it's refreshing to hear a resounding, "It's not mine or yours, but our responsibility to keep our local treasures just that – treasures to be passed on."
If you are local in Dublin and would like to get involved in Dodder-specific activities, see Dodder Action's website for more information. If not, take this opportunity to find local community action groups in your own neighborhood and get involved. If you can't find one, start one! Government authorities are great for building community resources, but no one knows better how to care for their own neighborhood like good neighbors.
 |
| River Dodder Heron |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)