Aside: The Irish Postal System
1. If you were one of those crazy folks at the 4-H conference who bought into my “write your name on a mailing label” scheme, ignore this missive as the scheme actually seems to have worked.
2. Unless you’re one of the above, my mother, father, Significant Roommate or … well, Steven, I don’t have your mailing address in my immediate grasp or memory. Please (re)send it to me. Maybe it’ll be just a postcard, but at least you’ll be assured that I was sparing one of my precious moments to think of you. Awwwwwwwww, how sweet.
3. Yes, I seem to be acquiring a bit of an accent. No, it hasn’t gotten me shot yet, nor has wearing my UCD sweatshirt on Trinity grounds. I’d like to avoid further potential injury by offering you the chance to opt in or out of these emails. Again, if you’re my mother, father, Significant Roommate or Steven, you’re pretty much doomed to receive these. Sorry.
Nothing much to report today, as I took the opportunity to sleep ’til about noon for the first time in nearly a month. It felt so, so good. Then I went a-shopping in Grafton Street, which is essentially an open-air, upscale mall that spills onto several of the roads between Trinity College and St. Stephen’s Green. Having been successful in tracking down a fairly cheap ankle support on Friday (which made Kildare much more traversable … ible?), I tried my hand at the sales and walked away with what promises to be a very nice dressy outfit once I attack it with a sewing kit. Whee. I am now a touristy American with a card, you can tease me as much as you like, but at least that’s the first non-book/postcard/food/pharmacy purchase I’ve made thus far. Ha.
Blah, time to go investigate food. I’m looking forward to getting out of Dublin. All the “guaranteed traditional Irish fare” in this district is aimed at tourists and thus overpriced. Also, most of the restaurants around here are defiantly non-traditional in nature, and I really didn’t come here for genuine California avocado-pesto-spinach paninis. Although they’re calling to me… thus, I’ll leave the search for good stew and potatoes until that’s all we have available. Then I’ll gorge myself and tramp all over the hills with the rest of the class while The Girls are complaining about the calorie count and desperately seeking exercise facilities. Mwahahahaha! …er… right.
Riverdance tomorrow night!
~ Cindy “bet you wish you were here”
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