Some miscellaneous observations

Thursday nights. As I mentioned before, every night except Saturday and Sunday is prime bar-hopping time in Cork. But on Thursdays are the peak, because most Irish students go home for the weekends, starting on Friday when most people don't have class. The usual Thursday routine for people over 18 (the drinking age) is to buy cheap(ish) alcohol from liquor stores and pregame before going out for real at around 10. (Though one of my professors noted, "I think vodka from Tesco [the local supermarket] is like paint thinner.") So this Thursday, my suitemate Jessie had her usual crew of about 5 people come over to our place for a few rounds of prepping, while my roommate Maegan had her group of 30 people come over to the same small kitchen/common area for what I can only describe as a shitshow. (I really did look for synonyms.) I counted more than 60 empty bottles the next morning (and we're not just talking beer bottles--we're talking several 1-liter  bottles of Bulmer's, flasks of vodka, etc). I had nothing at all to drink and spent the next several hours bonding with the few sober people there while the mayhem progressed. We didn't actually leave the flat until 11:30, by which time the lines for all the good pubs were insanely long. We ended up at a frequent haunt of American students, where everyone got really excited when the DJ played "Sweet Home Alabama." Fire codes apparently don't exist in Ireland, because extreme crowdedness in pubs is the rule rather than the exception, and having people shove past you is par for the course. Speaking of par for the course, Irish girls dress in a style reminiscent of Rocky Horror Picture show, minus the tights. (Seriously. It's January and they don't wear tights.) The outfit I'd borrowed from Jessie made me look like Sister Mary Bridget in comparison.


Groceries. Despite the lack of chocolate chips and cocoa powder, shopping at Tesco is pretty much like any other grocery shopping I've done, except that it has to be done more often. Most people don't drive to and from the grocery store even if they have cars; they walk over every couple of days to pick up what they happen to need. And they bring their handy reusable plastic bags with them, or else they have to buy new ones to carry their purchases. Why don't we do this in the States? "Paper or plastic? K, that'll be two dollars." Brilliant. In any case, I'm getting very familiar with Tesco already. And yesterday we stopped by the English market, which has been around since 1788 and has a huge variety of stalls selling meat, fish, fruits and vegetables, breads, and desserts. I had a lot of very touristy geek-out moments looking at all the food.


Cooking. Because we don't have cake pans in our kitchens, the cake I helped Jessie make on Friday actually took the form of muffins (rather misshapen muffins which earned themselves several very mature nicknames). The main course supplied by her friend Ian the Belgian was much more professionally done.


TV. Given that Katherine is intent on seeing the Doctor Who Museum at some point, I guess it's a good thing that I was encouraged to watch a few episodes of it last night. I felt almost as culturally enriched as when I was forced to watch Father Ted. Actually, though, the other day one of my professors referred to "a post-Father Ted world" where religiousness is viewed askance, so perhaps this knowledge will come in handy after all.


Navigation. Now that I've nailed down my street names (which are posted--if they're posted at all--on the sides of buildings, not on street signs) it isn't that difficult to find my way around. The main part of the city is built between the two branching halves of the Lee River, so every other street is a quay (pronounced "key"). And every other building is a place of worship; Holy Trinity Church, right by my apartment, lets me know that I'm almost home, and Saint Finbarre's Cathedral is the halfway point on my route to campus. I think I already know my way around Cork better than I know my way around the Twin Cities. (It helps that Cork is significantly smaller, but let's not dwell on that.) Yesterday I went to an adorable used bookstore in search of books for my classes, and later I visited people at another apartment across town, and on neither venture did I get lost. Necessity is the mother of, you know, good results or whatnot.