A Load of Bologna (and more)

Trip began and ended in Bologna and included Parma, Ferrara, Ravenna, and Rimini.

Let me start by saying I did not see the following: the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Pompeii, the Colosseum, the canals of Venice, Lake Como, Tuscany, or Sicily.  Though I felt a twinge of doubt knowing that Venice was 1.5 hrs away by train, I remained steadfast and stubborn in my resolve to not be in a place that would drive me nuts with busloads of camera-schlepping and view-obscuring tourists. So for 6  days we experienced the relative obscurity of the Emilia-Romagna region, taking our time to visit museums and churches; wander old streets; and most important of all, eat the best food in all of Italy.

800 pictures is quite overwhelming for me and I can't imagine anyone else wanting to sift through them either, so I've decided to showcase only the superlatives of Emilia-Romagna.

BOLOGNA is the capital of the region and has the oldest degree-issuing university in the world (1088). It is also the home of Bolognese sauce, though it's called ragu there (just as we call that bright yellow mustard, "mustard" and not "American mustard").

Longest Portico Walk
8 km and 666 arches (an odd number considering they lead to the Santuary di San Luca). Below most arches on the way are family plaques and shrines from the nobles of the area.

 

 

Best View
From San Luca, you can see the foothills of the Apennines Mountains. The day we went was the kind of warm and sunny you don't need a jacket. Looking out over the hills was one of my favourite experiences of the trip.

Tallest Tower
Many noble families in the area had built a tower (think: Trump Tower) and at one time, there were over 100. They were both status symbol and watch tower. Now due to pesky wars and earthquakes, there are only the "twin towers". The Asinelli Tower is the bigger of the two.



13th century tower; 98m

Most Well-Endowed Statue
The Fountain of Neptune includes a boastfully-endowed Neptune with a gaggle of mermaids at his feet who are grabbing their bosoms. It is quite racy, but legend has it that the Pope at the time gave his thumbs up, making the statue not only the symbol of Bologna itself but also of its liberalism.

 

Most Beautiful Place for Prayin'
I think we wandered in and out of 20 or more churches on this trip, but the one I remember most fondly is San Stefano. It was originally built in the 11th century and had 7 connected churches but now has only 4. Something about the old stone and candlelight appealed to me more than marble and stained glass.



I haven't quite mastered how to use my camera in this kind of lighting...

Best Piazza
We enjoyed a couple of pints of Moretti in the piazza whilst admiring San Stefano's.



the glass says, "Luck is an attitude."

Angriest Graffiti
Something I found both shocking and disturbing was the amount of graffiti present in the old part of the city. Apparently 2000 year old graffiti can be found throughout Italy. Graffiti can be a beautiful addition to an urban setting, but unfortunately, the stuff I saw was mostly people's names, slogans, and on occasion, bad English.

Most Interesting Place for Learnin'
This is a replica of the Teatro Anatomico, which was the third university dissection room in the world. What I found interesting about it was that a priest would sit between those two statues of skinned bodies and would "intervene" if the lecture seemed to infringe upon anyone's spirituality.

Hippest Piazza
I think this is called Piazza Putoni. It appeared to be a place where a lot of students sat around drinking beer and discussing the important matters of life or watched people juggle. We had an impromptu picnic of cans of Paulener beer and some prosciutto and cheese.

Coolest Streets
The Il Quadrilatero and il Mercato di Mezzo are a bunch of narrow,  medieval streets that still sell fresh produce, cheese, meats, and fish. The "stalls" are all now actual shops, but it still has that medieval vibe. I could wander around these streets for hours just looking at the wares. Some shops specialize in one or two kinds of cheese, while another might be the best in town for preserved goods, and yet another for the loveliest artichokes.

 

 

Best Old Man Pub

There's something about "hip" and "trendy" pubs that always make me feel like I'm on the set of a restaurant make-over reality TV show. And there's something about an old man's pub that makes me feel like I've been transported back to a time before a place became cool. Osteria del Sole is the oldest pub in Bologna. You order your wine (in our case, small bottles of chilled Lambrusco) and if you've  brought your own snacks (meat, cheese, etc), the man will give you a cutting board. We spent a few lovely hours here enjoying slices of culatello and fontina bought at the market around the corner.

 


Best Antipasto
On our last day in Bologna we had a few hours to wander the city and get some souvenirs (can you call ham, salami, and cheese souvenirs?) before getting the bus to the airport. We stopped at an osteria near the university. We were the only customers and enjoyed our snack and prosecco whilst listening to the blaring of some very dramatic Italian music reminiscent of 1940's dramas.

Most Flavourful Cold Treat at Most Famous Place for Said Cold Treat
I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but a cup full of gelato was a must. We went to La Sorbetteria Castiglione and enjoyed one dish of chocolate hazelnut/ pistaccio and one with lemon sorbet/mango. Fantastic breakfast that day.

PARMA is famous for Parma ham and Parmesan cheese as well as architecture. We spent half a day there and because it was a Monday, most places were closed. But it was a perfect sunny day and ideal for a walk through a quiet town.

Neatest Baptistery
Having been brought up feral and pagan, I had never heard of a "baptistery" before this trip. This one is on wikipedia's list of neatest baptisteries as well.

 





Best Dining Experience
Every bite I consumed in Italy was magic. But some of the overall eating experiences were better than others. We went to a small little osteria in Parma a bit before noon and the owners were just finishing getting everything ready for the day. We were the only customers and they were so kind when serving us and even more kind in giving us a complimentary shot of limoncello. We both tried the different specialities of the area: tortellini with pumpkin and cappaletti (hat shaped pasta) with the local ham.

                      

FERRARA has a castle, a lot of palaces, and a historic Jewish community. It was definitely worth a day trip.

Quietest Walking Tour
S had read somewhere that a museum had an exhibit of film director Michaelangelo Antonioni. When we asked about it in reception, the man called out to his colleague. This colleague told us it was closed but sat us down and mapped out an itinerary of a walking tour of silent streets that would culminate where Antonioni played tennis. He also said Ferrara was the "most metaphysical city" that existed only in the mind. We wandered the quiet streets physically and metaphysically but skipped the courts. The streets were indeed quiet as well as narrow, cobbled, and windy. It was an eerie yet peaceful feeling to see such few people for a couple of hours.

Strangest Dish

I heard about Pasticcio di Maccharoni (Macaroni pie) on  The Splendid Table podcast. They said it dates back to the Renaissance. It has a sweet pastry crust and is filled with macaroni, béchamel sauce, truffles, and mushrooms. I got mine from a local bakery and ate it cold. Tasty but strange, like having

dessert encase the main meal.

 


Coolest Castle That Still Has a Moat
This castle was built by the Este family (real bigwigs with branches all over Europe) from 1208-1598. It's right in the middle of town for all to behold (as opposed to all those other castles that insist on being out in the countryside).

Best Romanesque-Gothic Lombard styled Cathedral
This may have been the only Romanesque-Gothic Lombard styled cathedral we saw but I don't remember. There were so many religious buildings that they've all been chiseled into one big lump of marble in my memory.

original shop stalls to the right of the cathedral

Funnest Bike Ride
I haven't owned a bike in about three decades but I do like an occasional bike ride on holiday. This day we went through a lovely forested park that included parts of the ancient city wall and then into the local cemetery. A lot of mausoleums with entire extended families buried together. Very different from our individualized plots in Iowa.

 

 

RAVENNA was the capital of the Byzantine rule of northern Italy in the 8th century and is famous for churches with many mosaics. It is also the resting place of Dante. We spent only a few hours here and bought one ticket which allowed us to see most of the World Heritage basilicas and other monuments.

Most Impressively Decorated Churches
We went into the Battistero Neoniano, Basilica San Vitale, and Mausoleo di Galla Placida and they were all as exquisitely beautiful as the other. The Basilica San Vitale is referred to as "The Little Hagia Sophia". So cool to look at that Pope Gregory the Great (allegedly) wanted to have the mosaics blackened because they were distracting people from their prayers.

Most Famous Author's Resting Place
When I was a lazy and unmotivated sophomore studying English and secondary education, I tried half-heartedly to get through Dante's Inferno. Little did I know that teaching public high school was its own special 7 rings of hell.

RIMINI is now a seaside resort town and was the hometown of Fellini. Because of its location, it played a role in many an empire. The resort part is like any other seaside place with its succession of bars, restaurants, and cheap souvenirs. The city centre was much more interesting.

Oldest Thing I Stepped On
The Tiberius Bridge was constructed in 20A.D. Many have tried to blow it up over the last two millennia, but it is still as strong and sturdy as ever and used by pedestrians and drivers.

 

 

Coolest Ruins
The Surgeon's House built in the 3rd century A.D. was discovered in 1987.  It appears that there was a fire or maybe raid and the house was abandoned quickly. Rubble covered everything and preserved all the surgeon's instruments, tiled floor, and other stuff in the house. The excavation site is in the middle of the town and is protected by glass walls. If you are outside you can look in or pay a few euros to come inside and get a closer look. The tools and other equipment are in the nearby museum. A fascinating and unexpected site!

Most Neglected Ruins
An amphitheatre? Who needs Rome? Well, sadly, these ruins are fenced in behind a school and are probably only appreciated by lusty and thirsty teenagers.

Pub with the Warmest, Fuzziest Feeling
Sometimes I walk into a pub and know immediately, "This is the one." Osteria dei Reduci was cosy and full of jovial wine-drinkers. The owner gave us generous glasses of Lambrusco and plates of complimentary ham and cheese and wedges of piadina (like grilled pita bread).



Best Apertivo
On our first night in Italy, our first stop was Café Zamboni, the most recommended place for apertivo. Apertivo is served from 6:30ish to 9:00ish. Basically, you buy a drink for 5-8 euros and then can enjoy an all-you-can-eat buffet of snacks. Café Zamboni was a packed madhouse but quite good. This place in Rimini was laid back and served only bread with an assortment of stuff on it.

Artiest Neighborhood
After crossing the Tiberius Bridge, there is a neighbourhood called Borgo San Guilano with colourful houses, narrow streets, and most walls with a painted mural or portrait related to the life or films of Fellini.

Felliniest Feline

Saddest Sea View
If only the weather had been as wonderful in Rimin as it had been in Bologna! I had hoped for some seaside strolls or bike rides but had to make do with a rainy walk. Still a great day though and because our hotel was on the beach, was able to fall asleep to the sound of waves.



Best of the Random
I fell in love with Emila-Romagna at first sight. Not just the food and old stuff but the way of life. Old women in their stylish shades, middle-aged women in workout clothes and designer scarves; and the young who seem to have just stepped off the set of a John Hughes film. The place has class and the people were so friendly while simultaneously being aware of how great they and their region is.

street where we rented an apartment

The Road to 40: Month 3

This post is late because on April 1 (when I normally would have made the update), I was stuffing myself senseless on Italian food in Bologna, Italy. My visit to Italy was a cheat day that happened to last 168 hours. Into my gullet went a dozen different hams, tortellinis packed with bursts of goodness, freshly-made tagliatelle in a winey, creamy, rich ragu; light airy ricotta, jazzy artichokes; pungent and sharp parmesan cheese, surreal gelato, and each culinary symphony accompanied by a bubbly and refreshing Prosecco or Lambrusco. Consequences? Yes. Guilt? No.

Weight: up .6kg
Pants size: Same    Belt notch: same   Pants feeling: Snug

This last week, the trips to the gym have had a dual purpose. One, I've needed to rid myself of the toxins of indulgence. After a 45 minute step machine session on the first day back, I swear I exuded a deli-like aroma. I know I should be "making up" the lost time, but I've kept the same routine. I tell myself a half-assed or 70%-assed workout is better than a no-assed workout, but I don't know if it's true and I don't want to google it.

Not only have I needed to burn away the evidence  of sampling culatello ham that had cured beautifully for 24 months, I've had to combat an especially dark and draining bout of depression. I think if anything had gone awry on the Monday morning after the holiday, such as not having milk for coffee, missing the bus, or finding the copy machine broken, I would have dropped to the floor like a wet sack of laundry and remained there until someone carted me out. As it turned out, the day was fine, classes were fine, gym was fine, dinner was fine. But mentally, I did not feel so fine.

But with each subsequent workout, run, and productive teaching day, the pit of despair closed a bit more and as I type this, I feel more or less my usual self--somewhere between Sylvia Plath and Rose Nylan. So what the hell was the problem?

Because I don't have kids, pets, political causes, a garden, or houseplants to take my attention outside of myself, I have a lot of extra time to get stuck inside. Lately, I've become more hyper-aware of the passing of time. When I lived in Thailand, time didn't seem to pass because I wasn't working a lot, there was no changing of seasons to mark the time, and nothing about my life situation felt permanent because it wasn't. Now, the days whiz by and I'm physically assaulted in my chest with the knowledge that there won't be enough time. Not enough time to see all of the world, not enough time to see everyone I miss, not enough time to learn some new trade, not enough time to eat in every restaurant or drink in every pub (if I had a 100 years ahead of me, there wouldn't be enough time for that in Dublin!); not enough time to try every recipe; not enough to read every book, see every film; not enough time.

Am I dying and some part of me knows it? Am I having a mid-life crisis? Should I buy a plant?

I could write something about how I'm learning to "live in the moment" but actually, I think that idea is a load of bollocks. If I didn't have any regard for the future, I would just drink wine or Guinness all day and eat arepas. And yes, I should be more "grateful for the little things" though I do love the small and free random things like Dublin clouds and listening to seagulls, even if they steal snacks from my hand as I walk down the street. I need something more meaningful than platitudes and I feel it's there right on the tip of my tongue. Perhaps I need to quit confusing my tongue with sparkling wines and succulent ham in order to find it.

The Road to 40: Month 2

Well let's cut to the chase. As of today, the following is true:

Weight: Exactly the same as last time. Down to the .4 kg.
Pants size: Same. Belt notch: Same. Body shape: Mostly the same.

I've decided there are many possible explanations for this.

1) The scale is wrong and shows 76.4 kg for every person who stands on it, including the lithe and curvy Brazilians and the even more diminutive 5ft Korean girls.

2) My body, having been used to living in tropical climes, is hording fat in fear that winter will never end and I may starve. A kind body, that.

3)  Fat, that light fluffy stuff creating tiny dimples under the skin, is being converted to that heavy, hard stuff called muscle.

4) I am somehow magically eating the exact same number of calories I am burning, therefore not gaining or losing any weight.

5) I totally suck at this.

The explanation that I'm going with is a combination of 3 and 4. I've been mostly consistent with the regime of alternating morning runs and afternoons of cardio, free weight exercises, and planking. I may be completely deluding myself, but the jiggly areas do seem a bit less jiggly. I can see the top of my rib cage and I can tell a bit better where muscles in my arms begin and end.

Ah, food. My muse and my monkey. On the positive side, I've cut out a lot of garbage like biscuits (cookies in American English), chocolate bars, pastries, and cake. For snacks, I eat more nuts, hummus, fruit, etc. I cook dinner 6 days a week, using all fresh ingredients. But what can you do when your sweet Korean student offers you a chocolate moon pie at the bus stop?? Or when you've had too many pints and the only thing open is the chipper? Or your husband feels like he can't face the next day if he doesn't have pizza?

I was reminiscing today about my weight loss attempts in my 20s. How many of those disgusting, non-filling Lean Cuisine meals did I eat? Will I get cancer from all those medallions of mystery meat? There is absolutely no way that I'm going to stop cooking (and eating) natural, quality food. But as I said in my post last month, I need to do better with portion control. So I think in general I'm eating better calories but still too many. Some food scientists say that eating 800 calories worth of salad and nuts is better than 800 calories of crisps because your body uses more energy to process the salad and nuts than the crisps. But it probably doesn't really matter if really you should only be taking in 300 calories.

One thing I've realized is that any lifestyle change must be maintainable and sustainable. This is why I no longer dye my hair or pluck my eyebrows. There's no way I can keep up with the maintenance. So I was a bit wary when I joined the gym. I actually hate the free weights part of my health regime. Oh God, is it boring. Lift your arm 10 times. Squat 10 times. Rest. Repeat 3 times. Try not to make eye contact with any other people doing the same thing. But I can maintain this because it is only 30 minutes out of my day. 30 minutes less reading or watching TV. And I save my most interesting podcasts just for this bit of torture. Or I daydream about my next life. Or whatever. It's doable.

So my mood today is "feck what the scale says" because after a session of 40 minute cardio and sets of free weight exercises or a 10k fun, I feel freaking fantastic. And that's the real point.

Typed after a decadent meal of Chinese take out..........

The Road to 40: Month 1

In a status update at the end of last year, I wrote that in 2013, I had become a wife, runner, and resident of an English-speaking country. What I didn't write was that these three things had made me feel permitted to consume everything in sight. I didn't just "let myself go", I let myself go berserk, packing on pounds by stuffing my face with all that a Western country has to offer: fish&chips, cheese, pizza, bread, actual beef, sausages, chocolate yule tide logs, etc. And even though I usually cooked healthy meals full of vegetables and all natural ingredients, I ate enough for 2 or 3 people, giving myself permission because I run 4 days a week.

So January 1 arrived and with it, the awareness that in exactly 6 months I would crest the big hill of 40 before starting the downward slide. But rather than feel depressed and anxious about this milestone, I felt inspired to see it as a challenge and opportunity. I don't know where it came from. I really did just wake up one day and feel that way. The first thing I had to do was decide what my goals were and then make them realistic and measureable.

The thing I'm more afraid of than my life being one giant waste is that I'll get cancer. I convince myself that every weird twinge, pain, or weird mark is cancer and that I'll have months to live. More than anything I want to live a long pain free life. I want my body to feel good and be able to fight against any of the damage caused by living in China, genetics, and my 20s. Having low stress, good health, and a strong social network are some factors that prevent that terrible disease. Low stress, check. Strong social network, not so much. Ok, let's tackle health then.

had not yet mastered setting the camera to take self pic

Setting a specific weight goal was a bit tricky because I grew up with someone who definitely has a textbook case of body dysmorphia and I didn't want to have the same fixation and perpetual dissatisfaction with both how I perceive myself to look and the numbers. In fact because of this fear, I hadn't stepped on a scale in years and barely looked at myself from the waist down. After getting on the scale this month, I know I'm not that overweight and maybe not overweight at all. My BMI (body mass index) is 24 and according to WebMD, 25 is overweight. After a fair bit of looking at various health websites and soul-searching, I decided on one aspect of the Road to 40 Plan.

Weight as of Jan 1: 167 lbs (76kg)
Pants size: 12 (14 UK)
Weight Goal: 150-155 lbs, pants size 10.
Reduce ostrich stomach.

self-taken mug shot January 6.

To lose one pound a week, I need to take in about 250 fewer calories and burn 250 extra. I run about 4 times a week, each run is about 9km and 50 minutes. This probably burns about 400-500 calories. But rather than do more running, I decided that I needed to work on my entire body and not just the few muscle groups used in running. And a stronger body burns more fat and yadayadadadyadada. So I joined a gym that is about 2 blocks from my apt. And lord help me, paid to have someone torture me a few times so I could learn how to torture myself. The Sadist (a.k.a. Dean) is an incredibly knowledgeable young lad with various degrees and accolades who believes strongly in weight training and something evil called planking to work The Core. After the first session, I couldn't walk for 4 days, but my body is beginning to relent and just go with it. In fact, my body seems to really be enjoying it like its got some kind of Stockholm Syndrome.

Exercise Goal: do the workout Dean taught me M,W,F with a bit of cardio thrown in. Keep running on T,Th, S mornings.

I also set intellectual/creative goals when 2014 rolled in and one of these was to approach my love of cooking in a systematic way and learn basic techniques and classic recipes as well as practice the more difficult dishes of European and Asian cuisine. I have been a rock star at this goal (the posts are braising in my mind as I type) but creating (and enjoying the creations) is in direct conflict with my weight goal. I've been cooking things like standing rib roasts, legs of lamb, shepherd's pie, cannelloni in béchamel sauce topped with cheese, braised pork belly and apples, various risottos, kofte platters, French onion soup, Spanish omelettes, real Bolognese sauce, Thai bbq ribs, a ton of different curries, and so so many more.

my unorganized pantry

Eating less is my biggest challenge. I love food. I can barely remember any of the museums, temples, and UNESCO heritage sites I've seen in the last 8 years, but I can remember EVERY great meal: the flavours, textures, and smells, the setting, my mood, etc. So I'm not going to give up good food and start eating a grilled chicken breast with a side of steamed vegetables. But I need to do portion control and cut out processed desserts (someone please tell my husband to stop buying chocolate cookies and lemon cheesecake!), and eat naughty food (pizza, pub food, Chinese take out) less frequently.

Food goal: Experiment with vegetarian dinners 2-3x a week, fish 1x a week. Make less food and/or immediately put some in a container for next day's lunch. Go out for dinner only 1x a week.

It's February 1 and some goals are on track while some are definitely not. In my defence, I didn't actually start until January 6 when I went back to work and there were those four days I was out for the count due to my inability to move my legs, but I could do better and shall.

Weight loss goal: 0 lost, pants size the same. Ostrich stomach still in place.
Exercise goal: about 75%. I cheated and finished workouts early a couple of times. Running is on track.
Food goal: FAIL. I've been cooking much healthier meals but I still eat too much of them in one sitting and my cheat day often turns into a 2 day binge fest.

However, I do feel something going on internally. I have more energy and just simply feel better.

I'm writing this post mostly because I believe that "saying it out loud will make it more real" and will keep me from cheating and just going back to old habits. But as I write it, I'm thinking about how people will react, so let me just say to the critics that are in my head: I  know I'm lucky that I don't have kids, that I only work about 30 hours a week, and that I have the extra income to stock my pantry with exotic spices and fresh veggies and meat. I know I don't have that difficult of a road to travel. But it's my road and I just want to document what happens. That is all.

Why I Retired from the Grammar Policeforce

One of my favourite grammar memories involves beer and a sharpie. My best girlfriend and I were at our local, drinking $2 pitchers of Bud Light on a Friday after work. We both noticed that in the bathroom, someone had written, "Where my bitches?". We could not let this travesty pass, so wrote under, "Where's your verb?" to which some genius replied, "Where my bitches at?" It was a magical moment, one we were able to relive every Friday as we voided our bladders of cheap swill.

So this title may seem strange coming from someone who corrects graffiti in dive bars, who studied English at university and has been teaching its finer points for the last 18 years. And even stranger from someone who is required to specifically teach grammar 10 hours a week.

I used to get riled up by the incorrect use of your/you're and the abuse of other homophones. Using "less" before a countable noun once made me batty. I delighted in the uproarious results when the Oxford comma wasn't used. And I cared a great deal when people threw out a flippant "I could care less".

There was a time I could spend hours debating the finer points of grammar such as the subtle difference in meaning between "He likes to dance" and "He likes dancing" or how to add a tag question to "He must have had a good time.".

But then I became an ESL teacher and found that I was overjoyed if a student could use "you're" and "your" at all. A typical  exchange with an elementary level  student can go something like this:

Me: Who do you live with?
Student: Your family.
Me: You live with my family? (pointing to myself and then pointing to the student) No, your family.
Student: Yes, your family.

And it will go on for ages like a 'Who's on First?' sketch.

Once upon a time in graduate school, I spent hours in a classroom debating the nuances of grammar that matter to about 11 people and then later writing papers about it. I regarded English as both an art and a science and revelled in its complexity and intricacy.

I remember very distinctly the white hot anger I felt when my Thai colleagues had typos on their English grammar tests. I felt it was an injustice to the language and an insult to the English majors. I spoke passionately to them about how careful and thorough they should be when using MY language. As if it were a Faberge egg that would break at the first lack of subject-verb agreement. Every time they forgot or misused the particle in a phrasal verb ("wait me downstairs"; "take care yourself"; "pass away the salt"), I cringed and felt a piece of the egg stab me in the heart.

                                        

But over time, though I still enjoyed a grammar challenge, I lightened the hell up (notice my use of a phrasal verb, but what is "the hell"? Not an object. Adverb? Does anyone care?). If I were to get annoyed at every grammar mistake I encountered on a daily basis, I would need therapy (notice my correct use of the subjunctive there). For my own sanity, I had to make the transition from always seeing right and wrong to analysing what is most important to survival in an English speaking country or when dealing with English speakers. Survival rests solely on the ability to communicate and be understood and not necessarily on correctly placing a preposition or even using the correct preposition, for that matter. And let's be honest. English is a difficult language filled with exceptions to most rules. To correct EVERY mistake a student makes in writing or speaking (especially mistakes with grammar points they haven't learned) would be a soul-crusher for them. So at times, I've had to put the Grammar Police badge aside and focus on the fundamentals of the language they need most.

                           

A major difference between Grammar Me now and Grammar Me then is that I no longer see every rule in English grammar as having equal weight. And I no longer feel my blood boil when I see mistakes, especially those that don't impact the overall meaning. I can calmly and coolly point out the error without stabbing the paper with my correcting pen. One topic that carries a lot of weight in speaking and writing is verb tense. Consider the question, "How long you stay in Thailand?". I heard this question a dozen times a week and I always had to go through the long difficult process of extracting the meaning from the nice person who was just trying to have small talk. "Do you mean how long have I stayed in Thailand so far or do you mean how long am I going to stay from this point forward?" It was maddening and I always felt like an asshole afterwards. Or when a student feels they need to maintain the same verb tense throughout a written paragraph. "My sister was born in 1979. Her name was Lisa". What? She's dead? I'm so sorry.

                                   

Now don't get me wrong. I do teach all the grammar rules that are appropriate at any given level, of course. At the elementary level, students learn basic verb tenses, subject-verb agreement, correct use of articles, prepositions of place and time, etc.  At the more advanced levels, students study more complex grammar like 3rd conditional sentences (If I had known the level of English I would be teaching, I would have never studied for a Masters degree.); negative adverbials (Hardly had I opened the wine, when the dinner started burning.); cleft sentences (What Tom hopes to do is never talk about correct grammar again.); participle clauses (Having arrived late for work smelling of booze, Jack was given a stern verbal warning.); etc. We grammar teachers focus on accuracy and fluency in written and spoken communication fairly equally and do error correction in a  variety of ways. Oh, but how I could go on and on about all the little frustrations that come with teaching the minutiae of such a crazy language. I really feel for the students at times. Don't even get me started on pronunciation (which is actually more important than grammar, but that's another post).

 

 I know at least one of the five people who read this will think, "But she's talking about non-native speakers. Those memes are about people who use English as their first and likely only language. If anyone should be able to follow the rules, it's certainly those nimrods." And how true. If you use a sub-standard level  of English, people make assumptions about your education and intelligence level. Facebook status updates that are unpunctuated gibberish riddled with errors do bother me. I once would have studied the update and mentally calculated the errors. But you see--now I don't even bother to read them at all. I still feel the pang of annoyance when I see a sign that says, "Your in America. Learn English". And I still get a chuckle when I see one that says, "Sausage's for sale". I still notice every single error (you can't turn it off), but because of what I do on a daily basis, it doesn't make as much of an impact as it once did. So while I can't say, "I couldn't care less", I certainly do care less. And while it hasn't made me more careless, it certainly doesn't entitle me to a Grammar Police badge.

 

 

 

I Had Myself A Merry Little Christmas

Talbot Street

For the first time since Christmas 2008, I was in an English speaking country to celebrate the holidays. Not only an English speaking country, but a country that celebrates Christmas (i.e., predominantly Christian). China and Thailand have caught the commercial fever of lights, Santa grottos, and shopping, but there is something lacking in the overall spirit in these places. Not to mention that in Thailand, it's 32/90 degrees on Christmas just like every other day of the year. So here are some things that made this particular year special.

 

1. City Sidewalks
Every major shopping street on both sides of the Liffey River was awash in the glow from strung lights, Christmas trees, and store window displays. Because I go for a run well  before sunrise,  I was  able to see the lights every morning and feel a bit of Christmas magic. I've never lived in any city that works so hard to create such a festive and elaborate setting.

window display Henry Street

2. Shopping
I was the last person to be hired at my school so the first to be "laid off" as students drifted away to their home countries for the holidays. So instead of finishing on December 20 like the other teachers, I was given the heave-ho ho ho on December 13. This gave me an extra week to do some shopping. In the past, I was limited in my shopping venues. China has a lot of stuff for sale, but it is mostly crap found at EuroGiant and the Dollar Tree or in overpriced hippy stores selling colourful bags, incense, and  iron-on patches with marijuana leaves (I've  never actually seen these ironed on anything). Last year, I bought all my gifts on Amazon, but it felt like cheating.

O'Connell Street

So this last Christmas, I wandered in and out of all the nooks and crannies of Dublin I could, seeking out the perfect gifts. The days were bright and sunny, carollers were out, men in gaudy Christmas jumpers were beginning their Twelve Pubs of Christmas crawls, and different locations had Christmas markets selling locally made food and crafts. The city was absolutely abuzz with Christmas energy. I wasn't happy with all the gifts I bought, but I loved the process.

Moore Street-where you can get fresh meat, veg, and fruit, hair extensions, and SIM cards

gifts disguised in boxes

Speaking of gifts. I don't know if all Americans do this, but my family always wraps gifts in leftover boxes like the boxes shoes and irons come in. I bought S's cousin a lovely silk tie and to hide its tie shape, I put it in the box that once contained the Christmas lights bought at Eurogiant. I  noticed later that the box had been unwrapped but unopened. I explained the tradition and the cousin seemed pleased with the "real" gift. But to imagine him sitting there a good 30 minutes thinking I bought him Christmas lights! Ha!


3. Being Home for Christmas
The main attraction for Christmas is spending it with your inner circle. This was my fifth Christmas with Stephen but my first with one of our families and our first as a married couple. S and his brother's family gathered at their parents house for the day and we enjoyed the relaxed chit chat. Children don't hide their joy at having presents (like adults do), so it was great fun to see them tear through their packages and signal their "thumbs up" by playing with something for longer than 2 minutes.

Sean uses a gift to deliver beer to Daddy

Christmas Dinner is one of my favourite parts of the day. Paul made a lovely lemongrass coconut soup before the main event. Turkey and stuffing (strange to have on Dec. 25, I know), baked ham, and roasted potatoes and vegetables, all covered in gravy if desired. Followed by trifle and Christmas pudding. Christmas pudding is this crazy fruit cake concoction made weeks in advance and soaked in booze. It's wonderful.

Ciaran enjoys pre-dinner sausages from Munich. The sausages were later stolen and consumed by the dogs.

4. St. Stephen's Day
Everything is closed on Christmas Day, so on Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas, St. Stephen's Day, people go to the pubs to drink as if they've been in a desert for a year. Perhaps because of this tendency towards excess or because the publicans need time off too, the pubs are only open a few hours on Dec. 26. We took a long uphill walk to the Summit in Howth, had a pint next to the fireplace in the Abbey Tavern and then met Stephen's parents in their local. The place was packed and everyone was in good form.

pre-pint walk to Howth Summit

5. Godfatherhood
When I moved to Istanbul in September, 2009 S was also there with his university friend from Ireland, Richie and his American wife, Kim. The four of us hung out a few times and then said our goodbyes the following February when we left for Poland and have stayed in touch since. While S and I were drifting from one country to the next, Richie and Kim stayed in Istanbul and had two beautiful sons: Liam Ulysses and Frederick Seneca. S was asked to be Fred's  godfather and so we went to Templemore (about an hour from Dublin by train) to be part of the christening. Templemore is a beautiful little town in Irish dairy country.

Stephen, Kim, Fred, Richie, Freida (Richie's sister and Fred's godmother)

I have no idea where I'll be the next Christmas. Estonia, Malaysia, and Mexico seem just as likely as Dublin given the unpredictability of the ESL industry. So I'll hold on to the memory of this Christmas which was as Christmas as Christmas gets.

Henry Street at night

Two of my gifts from S

Christmas morning walk through St. Anne's Park

one of us is happy with this arrangement

Maura and the Sausage Thiefs

Teaching monkeys to read is hard work

Sean seems unsure about this gift

view outside of Abbey Tavern in Howth

The christening

not a typical picture for this set of Clarkes

park in Templemore

Templemore

some of my favourite gifts. I found the pots on the right near the bins in my apartment building!

Henry Street at sunrise

real live carollers!

Christmas market at the Docklands. I got there too early...