Bon Appetite

(icanhascheezburger.com could be worth a quick gander...)

Bon Appetite...what our French roommate, Muriel, says to Brianna and I every time we’re cooking aka bangin on pots and pans, setting the smoke alarm off and feasting like we’ve never had a hot meal in our lives (ever since the French got here they are constantly making us look bad with their stylish ways and their "let me just whip up this 6 layer lasagna for 10 people" skills... plus their cool accents). Since we came to Dublin, I have developed a great appreciation for food. All kinds. After a long day of class, shopping, walking or the exhausting process of laundry in this ridiculous facility, any meal we make turns in to a “grand feast,” whether it’s a grilled cheese or a 3 course meal. The essentials: the ever-easy pasta (what would any of us do without it?), eggs, balsamic vinegar (what can’t you put this on and make it taste better?), baguettes (I don’t think I’ll ever know why they taste so much better than regular bread-or is it just because the word is so fun to say?), granola (or what Brianna refers to as bird food… she may or may not have found a trail of this from the kitchen to my room last week), crepes (this is a once a week splurge at the Saturday farmer’s market), hummus (another farmer’s market must-have), CHICKEN (fried chicken, grilled chicken, chicken sandwich, chicken salad, chicken pasta…etc), and McDonalds…

Mickie D’s.

This disgusting cesspool has quickly found a place among my taste buds across international waters. Listen, I don’t know why but I find that armpit of America 10 times more appealing in Dublin than back home. It may have something to do with the fact that it’s American, maybe the fact that it’s literally fast food and I don’t have to cook it, but most likely because the 1 euro apple pies here are fried instead of baked and that makes allll the difference...Last week I yelled through the wall separating Bri and I's rooms (a very thin wall) "Babs, you want some McDonalds or what?" She said, "WHEN!?" I was craving it so bad, and there was only one 3 things that could satisfy me at that point in time: vanilla milkshake, fries, nuggets. So we bundled up and set out to what was supposed to be the closest McDonalds to us... ended up being an hour long journey in which we stumbled upon 1. A horse in someone’s backyard that we named Saddle Back Jane (Brianna swears that we passed saddle back J pulling two gypsies on the street yesterday) 2. 3 teenie boppin girls with attitudes bigger than the Guinness factory who yelled at me for not donating to their charity but having enough money to go to McDonalds (yes… McDonalds, that’s where all the people with money are) 3. an old man who blocked our way around the corner to the finish line with his cane and after staring us down for a good 30 seconds, dropped his cane, started laughing and walked away (keep in mind this was about 30 minutes into our walk when we had finally reached the golden arches... you could imagine how weirded out and mad we were at this man blocking our way) and 4. The best and most well deserved milkshake and fries I could’ve ever asked for.

Dublin is very much a melting pot of different cultures, and actually the largest amount of immigrants in the last few years have been Polish (does anyone else find that random?). Walking down the street you hear all types of languages (and rarely Irish Gaelic), and this definitely shows through with the restaurants- Asian, Middle Eastern, Italian, Indian and of course American fast food (that is all we have to offer this country besides reality television and Paris Hilton). If you want a real Irish meal all you need is 3 potatoes- mash one, bake one, and make the other into chips. If you want a good meal, there's plenty of international food here. My absolute favorite that I've had has been sushi at Yamamori, which is kind of sad because I'm in Europe, which is known for its food...Ireland I guess not so much... but it seems to be that I'm either eating a 2 euro budget baguette (I'm really splurging if I decide to get feta cheese for 50 extra cents) or a delicious 3 course meal (obviously paid for by the program... or a generous Irishman).

Here are some pictures to emphasize my new found passion of food and my upcoming obesity:

While coming home from the farmer's market last week Kate made me stop and turn around while crossing the bridge so that she could capture the pure happiness on my face and in my heart for this nutella crepe:

Caught in the act of legitimately having a moment with their food:

One of the better meals that has ever been created for me (cheers ben and alex... and you too babs)

Now that I have officially made myself and others look like your typical filthy american mcdonalds addicts, I will depart and go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I will be thinking of something else besides food...

legenDERRY

So most of us students here are on the "college budget," but see taking that budget to Europe makes you approximately 1.44 times as poor. We American students will hunt for the best bargain in town... 2 euro baguette sandwiches at Londis, 3 for 1.50 buenos bars (HEAVEN in a chocolate bar... I am officially an addict), free glass of wine between 5-7 the whole month of january at a new wine bar down the street (I've already gone twice...I hope they didn't notice), "free" packets of salt, sugar, pepper, brown sugar, vinegar etc, 1 euro shoes (black wedges that I bought yesterday that made me feel slightly less guilty about the amount of money I spent last weekend), and of course if a roll of toilet paper happens to fall into someones purse in a public restroom... they most likely will just bring it back to their apartment accidentally...

the contents of my purse:

Naturally, you could guess how excited our group was to go on an "all-expenses paid" trip to Northern Ireland (Derry and Belfast) this past weekend. We weren't just a little excited... we were THRILLED, jumping around acting like this was spring break (Bri and I even packed bathing suits in case the hotels had pools... they didn't). We left on Thursday morning- we dragged ourselves and our luggage across town to the bus (and by that I mean Bri and I got a taxi and everyone else walked across town... if there was ever a time for a taxi that was it. We were packed heavily for this 4 day fiasco). Fell asleep on the bus in an awkward, uncomfortable position which reminded me of field hockey and lacrosse trips in high school, and woke up in Northern Ireland.

ignore my delirious bus friends:

First stop: LUNCH. Everyone was so hungry that all the bread and fruit was gone from tables in a split second and there were a few small fights over a pear and a banana... no big deal though. Everyone was cranky from the bus and pissed that we got portions the size of peanuts, but we pressed on. Keep in mind I had NO idea what the itinerary was for the weekend because it was sent out a few days before and a few people never got it (obviously me), so I was literally just getting on and off the bus as I was told and everything was a great big surprise for me! I finally found out that we were in Derry for the 1st night then Belfast for the 2nd and 3rd. Second stop: Carrick-a-Rede (meaning "rock in the road" in Scottish Gaelic and "road" meaning the route for Atlantic salmon). The rope bridge that we were soon to cross was strung for over 350 years by fishermen and used as the best place to catch these salmon. As you can see it was no piece of cake...

crossing the bridge was harder for some:

and VERY VERY windy:

3rd stop: Giants Causeway. Even more windy than the bridge. After another long journey down to the water, we're there. Standing on about 40,000 different rocks that are the result of an ancient volcanic eruption. To be quite honest, I did not have to stay an hour and a half there and look at the rocks while getting wind burnt and nearly slipping to my death 5 times... but it was nice!! :)

4th Stop: HOTEL. Thankkkkk goodness. warmth. food. drink. the best 3 course meal ever paid for me: soup, grilled salmon, chocolate raspberry dessert. I love Derry. After dinner we chatted it up with the hotel bartender, Gareth (garth not gareth obviously) and went to a local pub called Mason's with him to listen to a band and enjoy our "vacation." We quickly found out that Gareth is a nationalist and that we were at a nationalist bar. There are very distinct differences between the cultures of a nationalist and a unionist (nationalists want political independence from UK and unionists want to continue to be under the Queen's rule). Nationalists are typically Catholic and Unionists usually Protestant. We stayed out until closing and magically made it to breakfast at 8am (well some of us), just in time to stuff our faces and purses to get us through to the next free meal, dinner. That morning we went on a tour of Derry (not just any tour, Martin's AWARD WINNING tour) and heard a lot about the Bloody Sunday tragedy (1972 civilian shooting by British forces in Derry). We saw the "Protestant communities" and "Catholic communities," and they are clearly separated. It makes me grateful to live in a place where the topics of religion and politics are not as tense and defining. We visited the museum, saw a documentary about Bloody Sunday and no big deal, we were featured on a BBC Northern Ireland special with our tour guide (I will for sure post it/brag about it on my blog when it is released).

Martin McCrossan's award winning city (and oh so witty) tours:

We got lunch (I ate my stolen breakfast for lunch) and were off to Belfast, the country's capital!

Smile... You're on Katie's Camera!

After a few weeks of being in dublin and me carting around my "telescope" (as my friend john calls it) everywhere, a little jig has developed for whenever I whip out my camera...

Alex Ben and Bri waking me up on the bus in Northern Ireland:

And here are a few defining photographs:

this guy saw my camera and proceeded to point as himself with the cheesiest smile I've ever seen. after the picture was taken and his light turned green he rolled his window down and yelled his phone number at the top of his lungs:

Mark at the DART station:

hilarious little hooligans we met on the beach in Bray:

more hooligans outside of the Belfast Castle

(don't ask about the BMX helmet... must've been some extreme cycling):

Meg and her lunchbox... gotta love her!

Ben and Alex from across the rope bridge (paparazzi):

Just a little pre-class photoshoot

(my computer's camera still counts as my camera):

this wouldn't be complete without a shout-out to my roommate

(Hey Brianna!):

So smile... you never know when you might get caught!