What I mean is that I honestly believe that there are certain individuals scattered around the place who deserve to be fired from their job in the very moment they call sick because they've got the worst floo ever as the corpse of their lover lies by their side.
Because that certain individuals love to play this game in which they are unable to notice the humanity within the people around them and they deal with their daily live using the rules of it.
As a conclusion, I've decided I need to get a proper job, as I don't want to allow other people make me kill myself.
And sorry about the anger.
Sunday 28 April 2013
Wednesday 24 April 2013
My favorite places in Cork for...
I have been thinking of writing this for a while, and I think this is the perfect moment since I've been living in the city for almost a month and I am getting usd to it's corners.
So here's my list...
My favorite places in Cork for...
... a pint: Franciscan Well.
Obviously like. Plus it includes awesome drawing evenings!
It was the "my favorite place" that I discovered first, and I'm so very glad for that. Thanks, Jota and all DrinkandDrawers ;) And this is also where I discovered the best brand of cider in the world... I owe so much to this pub!
... a long talk over some coffee: Café Eco
Perfect for those after 6pm evenings when you don't want to go to a pub, which happens quite often to me. The staff is nice, they do all kind of handy things there that you can't do anywhere else after 6, and... well, a very brilliant place :)
... pancakes: Fellini's
Seriously.
...some nice live music: Sin É
Plus the best cider ever!
... a night time walk:
Banks of the river Lee: loveliest walks home ever, granted!
... enrichening an otherwise eventless morning: Crawford Art Gallery
I've actually only been there once, and we promised to go back on that very same morning, but... we don't have tha many spare mornings really, do we? It's great and big and free, though, so it's good to pay a visit every now and then.
... lunch: AT HOME!!! but, well, that's only now that I can freely cook, and, anyway: Uncle Pete's
We should be VIP here or something, I can't count how many times we've eaten here! Plus the music is very nice!
... organising random stuff we're into: Franciscan Well (yeah, again <3)and Old Oak
It is amazing how, in this city (or maybe country) you can ask to book the upstairs of a pub so freely and easily. So here's where we do Wriing Session, Spanish Gastronomical Meetings, Karaoke Parties and such... even a-political meetings like- everything we are into hapens there!
... a lazy coffee on a weekend morning: Nosh+Coffee
They've got very yummy pastries, and if you're lucky, some nice rock music. We discovered it by chance looking for somewhere different than O'Connails.
... a very posh ladylike coffee while reading the paper: Isaac's Hotel
No Comments, you need to go and experience it by yourself... it was king of surrealistic to go there with my marteens and be treated that way.
... spending half an hour wishing you had all the money in the world: Vibes and Scribes (both of them), Waterstones, Easons and Brennan's Cook Shop
If you are crafty, bookish and/or cookish.
So here's my list...
My favorite places in Cork for...
... a pint: Franciscan Well.
Obviously like. Plus it includes awesome drawing evenings!
It was the "my favorite place" that I discovered first, and I'm so very glad for that. Thanks, Jota and all DrinkandDrawers ;) And this is also where I discovered the best brand of cider in the world... I owe so much to this pub!
... a long talk over some coffee: Café Eco
Perfect for those after 6pm evenings when you don't want to go to a pub, which happens quite often to me. The staff is nice, they do all kind of handy things there that you can't do anywhere else after 6, and... well, a very brilliant place :)
... pancakes: Fellini's
Seriously.
...some nice live music: Sin É
Plus the best cider ever!
... a night time walk:
Banks of the river Lee: loveliest walks home ever, granted!
... enrichening an otherwise eventless morning: Crawford Art Gallery
I've actually only been there once, and we promised to go back on that very same morning, but... we don't have tha many spare mornings really, do we? It's great and big and free, though, so it's good to pay a visit every now and then.
... lunch: AT HOME!!! but, well, that's only now that I can freely cook, and, anyway: Uncle Pete's
We should be VIP here or something, I can't count how many times we've eaten here! Plus the music is very nice!
... organising random stuff we're into: Franciscan Well (yeah, again <3)and Old Oak
It is amazing how, in this city (or maybe country) you can ask to book the upstairs of a pub so freely and easily. So here's where we do Wriing Session, Spanish Gastronomical Meetings, Karaoke Parties and such... even a-political meetings like- everything we are into hapens there!
... a lazy coffee on a weekend morning: Nosh+Coffee
They've got very yummy pastries, and if you're lucky, some nice rock music. We discovered it by chance looking for somewhere different than O'Connails.
... a very posh ladylike coffee while reading the paper: Isaac's Hotel
No Comments, you need to go and experience it by yourself... it was king of surrealistic to go there with my marteens and be treated that way.
... spending half an hour wishing you had all the money in the world: Vibes and Scribes (both of them), Waterstones, Easons and Brennan's Cook Shop
If you are crafty, bookish and/or cookish.
Tuesday 23 April 2013
Not So lovely Life of Mine
So Ireland is this awesome country where you can emloy half an hour everyday for breakfast and that shines in sparkling green whenever the clouds open up a space for the sun to come out. This last thing, by the way, has been pretty usual lately :)
But some other stuff also goes on in this atlantic island.
First, you need an evidence of residence for everything you do.
Getting the PPS number was complicated enough, and seeing the letter didn't get "home" in the expected time was... awful given that I needed it to complete the lease agreement, and the unhelpfulness of the girl at the post office (I went there to ask for it because they told me so at the Social Welfare office), who didn't even turn around to check if the letter was there or not. But I had though that after I could prove that I proved the Social Welfare office that I do reside in Ireland, some doors would open for me.
Well, that doesn't exactly match what happened. The PPSN is not accepted as evidence of adress to open a bank account. A lease agreement isn't either (seriously? I still can't believe it). You need a bill, or else... a bill, or a bill, and you can also use an statement from your employer, but it need to be writen in headed paper, addressed directly to the bank, and accompanied by a bill on the name of your employer.
So, basically, you need a bill on your current adress to be able to pay the bills of that address, but then also...
You can not have a bank account to pay bills.
In this other bank, you can have a bank account to pay bills, but you can't have two people managing one account. Also, your bank card and details will get to your address by mail, in a maximum time of... well, I don't really know yet, but yeah, at least two weeks from the day you sign up.
Also there are little lovely cafés that have been looking for staff for, like, two months and haven't contacted me in any of the two times I handed my CV. That should sort of mean they don't really need someone that much, right?
And there are firends leaving, and more frinds leaving, and friends not coming...
But some other stuff also goes on in this atlantic island.
First, you need an evidence of residence for everything you do.
Getting the PPS number was complicated enough, and seeing the letter didn't get "home" in the expected time was... awful given that I needed it to complete the lease agreement, and the unhelpfulness of the girl at the post office (I went there to ask for it because they told me so at the Social Welfare office), who didn't even turn around to check if the letter was there or not. But I had though that after I could prove that I proved the Social Welfare office that I do reside in Ireland, some doors would open for me.
Well, that doesn't exactly match what happened. The PPSN is not accepted as evidence of adress to open a bank account. A lease agreement isn't either (seriously? I still can't believe it). You need a bill, or else... a bill, or a bill, and you can also use an statement from your employer, but it need to be writen in headed paper, addressed directly to the bank, and accompanied by a bill on the name of your employer.
So, basically, you need a bill on your current adress to be able to pay the bills of that address, but then also...
You can not have a bank account to pay bills.
In this other bank, you can have a bank account to pay bills, but you can't have two people managing one account. Also, your bank card and details will get to your address by mail, in a maximum time of... well, I don't really know yet, but yeah, at least two weeks from the day you sign up.
Also there are little lovely cafés that have been looking for staff for, like, two months and haven't contacted me in any of the two times I handed my CV. That should sort of mean they don't really need someone that much, right?
And there are firends leaving, and more frinds leaving, and friends not coming...
Monday 22 April 2013
Lovely Little Life of Mine
There has been way too much stuff going on on my life during the last few days, all with leaving my family and staying at M.'s for a week and the (yeah! It actually happened!) moving to the apartment and so, but I didn't have internet for quite a while and then, well, I don't have that much peace and spare time anymore either!
So the week with M.'s family was very nice. They are incredibly nice people (of course this is obvious enough, given that they let me stay with them...), making plans and checking stuff and feeling like adults but not quite being adults.
Then, the day came. Saturday the sixth. I can't elieve it's been that long already. And it feels like I've been here my whole life at the same time. I think this is what normally happens when you count days, at least it's what I felt when I counted the days at the begining of my aupair experience. Then I counted the weeks. Then I stopped counting. Anyway: 16 days since we came to the apartment to meet the lady from the agency and the landlord, to sing the lease agreement, from the back door. We intended to use the front door but... we didn't know were it was and... we planned to arrive with plenty of time so that we could look for it but we kept meeting people on the streets... and we were too exited about everything not to stop and tell them... so we came in from the garden door, were there was this trembling old man cutting the grass. I noticed there were wind strawberries mixed on it. Joy.
The gardener happened to be our landlord, everything ran smoothly (probably due to our lovely lady costumes) and, in less than an our, both of them left from the front door. We live in one of the comparatively few places in the word were you need to go up to get out from the front door. I love it.
So, first thing, we double-checked what we needed to buy and we decided that duvets and sheets and pillows were the priorities. Oh and the coffe maker to. Then, we went out to see what our front door looked like and what could we find in W. Road. Well, there's a sushi take away. Just saying, like.
So we went to the an lár and met some more lovely people to share our exitement with, and then bought our stuff, and then went back home with atching feet and ridiculously big bags, and I broke the handle of the coffee maker, but we did have a coffee, M. in her purple cup an dI in my green cup.
Because yeah, there was a brand new set of cups and they were green and purple. This city is seriously making it hard for me to believe in chance.
We didn't do much (well, we teorized a lot) that first day (J. And M1 called in :) thankyou girls for being our first visitors :) ) apart from a stuff-that-you-can't-live-with shopping that we got home by the means of vandalism.
Sleeping here for the first time felt both weird and logical. It alse felt yoky when, during the throughoutful cleaning session of the next day, we found some stuff that I'm not going to mention here.
So that was all we did on sunday, yeah, C L E A N I N G.
The next step before we could become full adults was waiting. For everything (my PPS, a meeting with the lady of the agency, a bank account, K. ...) but that deserves a full entry for itself.
On this one, I want to leave you with the the sensation of inner peace felt by me when, while having luch at our favorite restaurant to celebrate this step, soap bubbles were floating on the streets, and love was walking past us on them too.
So the week with M.'s family was very nice. They are incredibly nice people (of course this is obvious enough, given that they let me stay with them...), making plans and checking stuff and feeling like adults but not quite being adults.
Then, the day came. Saturday the sixth. I can't elieve it's been that long already. And it feels like I've been here my whole life at the same time. I think this is what normally happens when you count days, at least it's what I felt when I counted the days at the begining of my aupair experience. Then I counted the weeks. Then I stopped counting. Anyway: 16 days since we came to the apartment to meet the lady from the agency and the landlord, to sing the lease agreement, from the back door. We intended to use the front door but... we didn't know were it was and... we planned to arrive with plenty of time so that we could look for it but we kept meeting people on the streets... and we were too exited about everything not to stop and tell them... so we came in from the garden door, were there was this trembling old man cutting the grass. I noticed there were wind strawberries mixed on it. Joy.
The gardener happened to be our landlord, everything ran smoothly (probably due to our lovely lady costumes) and, in less than an our, both of them left from the front door. We live in one of the comparatively few places in the word were you need to go up to get out from the front door. I love it.
So, first thing, we double-checked what we needed to buy and we decided that duvets and sheets and pillows were the priorities. Oh and the coffe maker to. Then, we went out to see what our front door looked like and what could we find in W. Road. Well, there's a sushi take away. Just saying, like.
So we went to the an lár and met some more lovely people to share our exitement with, and then bought our stuff, and then went back home with atching feet and ridiculously big bags, and I broke the handle of the coffee maker, but we did have a coffee, M. in her purple cup an dI in my green cup.
Because yeah, there was a brand new set of cups and they were green and purple. This city is seriously making it hard for me to believe in chance.
We didn't do much (well, we teorized a lot) that first day (J. And M1 called in :) thankyou girls for being our first visitors :) ) apart from a stuff-that-you-can't-live-with shopping that we got home by the means of vandalism.
Sleeping here for the first time felt both weird and logical. It alse felt yoky when, during the throughoutful cleaning session of the next day, we found some stuff that I'm not going to mention here.
So that was all we did on sunday, yeah, C L E A N I N G.
The next step before we could become full adults was waiting. For everything (my PPS, a meeting with the lady of the agency, a bank account, K. ...) but that deserves a full entry for itself.
On this one, I want to leave you with the the sensation of inner peace felt by me when, while having luch at our favorite restaurant to celebrate this step, soap bubbles were floating on the streets, and love was walking past us on them too.
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