Dear Readers,

I have had a revelation this weekend.

It all started on Friday when Rad and made plans to bake some brownies. We went to the local grocery store to buy ingredients. We ended up buying a mix, something i would never do back home where i have a fully stocked kitchen which includes cooking implements.

Anyway I suggested to Rad that we make a drinking game out of our baking. She thought it sounded like a good idea so we started spit balling rules.

I came up with one rule, "every time anything is measured we both have to take a shot."

Rad's rule was a bit more direct, "Anytime we know what we're doing we have to take a shot."

Needless to say, we got shitfaced drunk.

And we videotaped the whole thing.

I'll get around to editing that later, it is definitely hilariously embarrassing and too great to keep from the world.

I skyped at some point towards the end of the night with my friends back at Pratt who convinced me to write a blog post in my inebriated state. They always do that and I always listen. When will I learn?

And that is how the wonderfully eloquent and classy blog post under this one came to be.

Almost everything in that post is true, I do miss NYC and my friends there, Radhika is pretty cool and men who are immature do in fact suck, but one thing that sober Chelsea does not agree with is the high caliber and favorable passion with which drunk Chelsea describes Irish Whiskey.

That's a brand by the way, in fact the cheapest brand of whiskey that Rad and I could find.

I'd like to go on record right now saying that it does not rock. In fact part of me is convinced it's the devil. 

Moving onto Saturday, I awoke with a hangover so vicious I wanted nothing more than for my face to melt off. Rad had blacked out most of the evening, and didn't even have a hangover. Lucky girl.

I went home, got into my bed and didn't get out of it all day.

What was particularly funny was when I got home at around 1pm, my roommate was in bed and I asked her how she was, to which she replied, "hungover".

She informed me that her and two of her friends had split a liter of vodka. So our room that day was very quiet and dark, the lights were never turned on and the blinds remained closed all day.

That is until the late evening, when Manon popped out of bed and started getting ready to go out. She asked me if i was staying in to which I replied, "Yes. Are you going out?"

Then she started to explain her "hair of the dog" theory, which, just thinking about, made me gag. I told her she was crazy and she said I was crazy and then I told her to have a goodnight and she left.

I went to sleep at around 2/3 ish and awoke this morning (Sunday) with one hell of a headache. I had forgotten how much my body hates alcohol. Hangover round two? Yes.

So now I can explain my revelation dear readers. I have decided to only drink once a week while here, and when I do drink, to do so in moderation. I can't think about alcohol right now without feeling like throwing up, so I have no idea how soon the next drinking night will be, but one thing I am sure of is that there will be no more drunk blog posts. That's what facebook status updates are for.

I am not making any promises, as I've learned drunk Chelsea tends to have a mind of her own, but i would prefer this blog be about Ireland, and not a running list of Mexican things that I think are cool like nachos and Jenny's mom.

I don't even eat nachos.

this blog goes ut to ana and jenny

i loveee yiudx guya aooo much,


yourw WESOEM



sooooo I'm very dsrunk right now witrhf radkhika


and i widsh i wads in nyc withg you bitches

you rock

donrtt let anyone tell uo otherwise


but i love rad

shess ONE COOLL bitchew


and just so you gy ss knokns nachos mexixxcans and anaa rock  also jennys mom.


you know what else rocks? irish hwhi cskley?

ywes whiskey

kiscks ass


an dd uyo know who sucjs

bouys

who aewnrenyt men.


i loveyiou gusy

This post is all over the place.

So for those of you who haven't heard me complaining about this yet, Dublin is cold. When we're lucky it's a non-windy 50F. More frequently, however, it's a brisk, wet 3C, which is European for 37F.


Needless to say I've been wearing layers.

I wish I could say so much for the locals, but nope, Dublin girls run around in next to nothing. Their heaviest article is typically their 6" pumps.

Usually they walk around in see-through leggings and short shirts, yeah they don't leave much to the imagination.

I've seen a lot of crazy outfits, from backless "dresses" (is there a minimum requirement of fabric to qualify as a dress?) to fur coats paired with short shorts (more on the fur thing later). But the worst observance came last week when Rad and I were downtown pub hopping and we spotted a young woman in her underwear.

Yes, her underwear.


She was with a group of friends, most likely heading to a club, and although they were all scantily clad, the rest of them had remembered to put pants on.


Radhika and I did a double take, and didn't do much to hide our shock. If these people had been more observant not only would they have heard our blunt "are you fucking kidding me?" but also, maybe, just maybe, they would've reminded pantsless-Patty not to leave the house half naked in 40F weather.

Here's hoping she hasn't caught pneumonia or spread something else.


Dubliners also love fur. They wear sooooo much of it. Fake or real, I can't tell (I've never been much of a fur connoisseur) but it's definitely tacky. It's like Dublin is full of Cruella Devils. But it's not always fur coats on old ladies, which i think is a fairly normal sight, no it's like weird fur collars/dickeys and fur vests and shorts.

It's unsightly. We've got ourselves quite a hairy situation here in Dublin.


(SEE WHAT I DID THERE?)



I'm over the whole Dublin style debacle. Onto a European eccentricity, winking.


Yeah they wink a lot over here. Don't they know winking is reserved for old people, shenanigans, and perverts?


Maybe that's just in America, because seriously I've been winked at more in the last month than I ever was in my whole life back in the states.


I can't explain it but it's unnervingly frequent.

I remember one time when I was little at Disneyland, I'm guessing 4 ish, this old woman passed by me and winked.

I remember feeling uncomfortable, but knowing that she was old and sometimes old people make you uncomfortable and you just have to act like they aren't freaking you out.

I was very wise for my age.


Point of that story is that babies instinctively don't like being winked at, so winking must be associated with something awful and it's ingrained in us to not like it because, I can only imagine, it was something horrifying to our ancestors.



Bottom line: winking is an uncomfortable gesture that is forgivable when geriatrics are involved, expected from creepy guys with no game and hilarious when tomfoolery is afoot.

Somebody needs to tell Europeans.



So I asked a few people for topic suggestions for this blog, by a few people i mean my brother and Sarina.

Sarina said on facebook chat,


"Hmmmmm.

Idk.

but you should totally get a tat of a 4 leaf clover while your over there. it would be cute and have meaning."


I was totally tempted by the deep meaning that tat would definitely have, but in the end I've decided against it.


My Brother Zak told me to write this blog post because, "Idle hands are the devil's playthings."



He didn't have any suggestions though as far as topics go.


But that's okay, I seem to do a good enough job ranting about the everyday to sustain some sort of interest.

I am going on some trips this month so there will definitely be some picture posts coming soon.


Goodnight dear readers, stay warm, fur free, blinking, meaningfully tatted and busy in the name of Jesus.


-Chelsea

Prawn Flavored Blog Post.

So apparently three blog posts a week is coasting, two is disappointing and one is simply unacceptable. At least according to Sam and Jenny. 

Which is shocking because they both know how lazy I am. 


Anywho, here is a forced blog post, if you pick up on any general contempt...you're very astute, good job.
So I recently found out that my sweet roommate Manon and her friend Leslie, both Frenchies, read my
blog!! I think that's very nice since I can never bring myself to read other people's blogs.

I tend to get bored.

So I'm always very flattered when I find out people are reading this blog and I was extra flattered in this case since Manon and Leslie speak English as a second language, and I'm sure it's a bit tedious for them to translate all of my colloquialisms.  




Well I've decided to dedicate this blog to food. 


One thing I've noticed about Ireland, and have heard is the same in England and Scotland, is their obsession with meat and cream. I had no idea, although it seems quite obvious now, that the simple, American dinner, meat and potatoes, is Irish. I mean I always assumed that was a 1950's, microwave dinner type of thing.

(Of course I knew potatoes were Irish, check the background of this page)



Anyhow, I have deemed this place the land of meat and potatoes, everything they make here has the addition of animal products in some form.

I went out for Chinese last night with an American friend, Zach, and he ordered vegetable chow mein, and I ordered vegetable curry. I've never had a curry like this. It was definitely vegan, but instead of a typical curried coconut milk sauce, my vegetables were in this weird sort of gravy.

Dear readers, if you could see the expression on my face while merely explaining this you would understand that this was not a good thing. I'm not a really big fan of gravy, I think it has it's time and place though (Time: Thanksgiving. Place: mashed potatoes.) and in my Chinese food, let alone a curry dish, is not one of them. 

Needless to say this was an Irish take on Chinese food, and I was the victim.

Zach and I were discussing chip flavors that we've noticed while here;


-Prawn
-Bacon
-Roasted Turkey
-Cheese and Onion

....just to name a few.

They have an obsession with Prawn flavored things here. I've noticed it in other forms besides chips. 

Also, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are an American thing. My Irish flatmate saw me making one and said, "Wow, you guys really do that?" 

Also, the peanut butter here comes in "American style". 

Zach was telling me that peanut butter itself is known as being very popular in America, much more so than the rest of the world.

I guess peanut butter is our marmite (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marmite).


Last night Radhika and I went on a falafal hunt TO NO AVAIL.

We found this chain called "Abra Kadabra" that served falaf amongst hamburgers, french fries and tacos (they call themselves a "mexican restaurant"). BUT they don't have hummus, yogurt sauce, tahini or any other seemingly compatible sauce option for falafals. Nope instead they offer garlic sauce or barbeque.


I had been drinking a bit and when the man behind the counter said this i quite bluntly replied "Eww that's so gross"

and then there was a moment of awkward silence where I just stared at him.....I mean in retrospect I probably shouldn't have blamed this poor guy who, in his attempt at money making, unfortunately has aligned himself with such a sad excuse for a restaurant, but due to my mild intoxication these rationales were pushed out of my mind and replaced with disgust for the lack of cultural diversity evident in this country.

what the fuck is garlic sauce?



and who doesn't know that you eat falaf with either hummus, yogurt sauce or tahini?


needless to say Radhika and I booked it outta there and instead bought crappy pasta and couscous at the local grocery store.

So to sum up Ireland in regards to food. It's boring. But that's probably just because they put so much time and effort into developing their beverages, and honestly dear readers, when it comes to Irish drinks, I haven't any complaints.

Pictures!!

Before I start this post I'd like to explain my previous blog posting. I was going to delete it. It is the incredibly embarrassing product of my Pratt friends taking advantage of my enamored state by encouraging me to blog when I really just shouldn't have been anywhere near a computer at all. But after some thought I came to the conclusion that this is a blog about my Irish adventures, and anyone who thinks I'm going to come to Ireland and not drink is clearly a fool and they can go read another blog regarding ostriches or something. Also, not to brag or anything, but I am a pretty funny drunkard.

Moving on, 

So where I last left off I had just gotten to Trinity off my plane, we're talking Thursday morning. I didn't get internet until midday Saturday because, even though it's an ethernet connection, you still need a password and username, information that was given to us late Friday. However, you also need an out of date computer because it took a whole days worth of trouble shooting to configure my mac to the internet. A whole stressful, lonely, incommunicado day of downgrading my brand new macbook pro's internet browser. 

But, obviously, it works now. 

These are pictures of the park/street right next to my dorm. All of the streets in Dublin are about this width, which makes riding in the huge busses a bit scary, especially when they pass people in the same lane, which, I'm pretty sure is meant for only one car at a time. 

This is one of the views from my flat. If you disregard that ugly gray rooftop it's actually quite beautiful.

This was a strange little band playing in town centre. Fun fact, after I took this picture they followed me, playing their strange instruments and singing in gaelic, for about a block. Although it was only a block it felt like a lifetime.

These friendly leprechauns are always on this corner, right across from my school, every day. It seems like a pretty fun job actually, definitely warm (yeah, it's been chilly here).

  This is the view coming into town centre from the top level of the double decker transport. All of the busses here are double deckers and expensive considering I take it to get to school and back.
€1.90 a ride :O
It's a pretty nice ride though, nice way to see a good amount of Dublin.

These are just some scenic photos I took while walking into city centre/Trinity yesterday (about an hour walk). I love the houses. They're all very big and yet they have such a cozy feel. Must be all the red brick. 

I found an Asian market yesterday and was delighted when I saw their stock. As a vegetarian/vegan household, most of the grocery shopping/cooking my dad does is Asian. And this brand of sauces is a staple in our house. In the orientation for the international students they told us about an "American" candy store which only carries American products. They said that finding a comfort food that you would have at home can ease homesickness. I've seen tons of American candy here, especially kit kats, but this weird, Asian sauce stuff was what made me think of home. This little market is definitely going to be where I do most of my shopping.

So those are the only pictures I've taken so far. I'm still settling into this strange foreign land, and I promise there will be better ones to come once I get my bearings a bit. 

Goodnight dear readers,

love,

 Chelsea.