Early morning Blackpool by Dennehy's Fish Shop and Healy's Baker. Oh, andthe Great Wall Chinese take-out place. This is the twenty-first century after all.
It's true in many cases that foreigners, either living or visiting a new land, experience more of a place than the locals ever have. Locals get tied down to work and other routines, and inherit preconceived notions about their community or country. And it can simply be tough to see what's special about a place when you're around it all of the time.
And so it is with the North Side of Cork, of which Blackpool is a part. I walk through this part of the city each day and––with each new nook of it I discover––I think it's the most interesting. Considering how vehemently Irish South Siders denounce the North Side as a crime-infested cesspool, it can be pretty surprising to find that many of the neighborhoods are warm and vibrant. The South Side has modern shopping centers and comfortably spaced houses (i.e., classic suburban sprawl), but the northern neighborhoods have a delightful traditional feel along with unique independent shops and eateries. It's all very rough around the edges in places, but Blackpool, Shandon, Sunday's Well (which can actually get quite swanky in parts) and others are the best place to see "Old Cork". If you're ever in town, take a long stroll north of the River Lee.
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There are only two days out of the year that pubs are required to close in Ireland, and Good Friday is one of them. But this year, many Irish have a big problem with this old tradition: there happens to be a rugby match scheduled for Good Friday. How on Earth can the nation enjoy a rugby match without a pint??? Seriously, this is a big issue and many want the old Good Friday rule thrown out, at least for 2010.
I think Americans would be happy to drink at home, watching the match on their own couches. Not to say that that is preferable; I find that watching rugby in a crowded pub is helpful. Not fully understanding the rules, I can gather from other patrons' groans or cheers what is happening.
I think Americans would be happy to drink at home, watching the match on their own couches. Not to say that that is preferable; I find that watching rugby in a crowded pub is helpful. Not fully understanding the rules, I can gather from other patrons' groans or cheers what is happening.
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The fabled Irish gift of gab can indeed be a good thing. If the gabber you're dealing with is cheerful and emotionally well-balanced. It's when you run into an Irish person that hates his life that you discover the dark side of the national propensity for chatting: a never-ending, bottomless pit of complaining.
Complaining is a national pastime in Ireland, and even the happiest people partake. (A doctor Katherine and I visited––he was English, to be fair––said, "the Irish are born pointing their fingers"). The best example is the weather––the past two weeks have been very sunny, clear, and even warm at times. Steve, a friend of ours and a Cork native, described this stretch of pleasantness as "fierce mild." On one particularly sunny day when I was at work, a driver for the warehouse's shipping contractor had an interesting take on things. When his box scanner wasn't working as well as he would have liked, he blamed "all of this bloody sunlight. The thing's just not used to it. None of us are." He continued on the topic: "F'ing weather. When I got up it was cold, so I put on a jacket. Now it's f'ing sunny and warm and I had to take off some layers. It's a pain!"
All of this is usually good natured. Not to be taken as a genuine complaint but as a conversation starter or ice-breaker. But other drivers for that shipping company I mentioned fall squarely in the unfortunate territory of chronic griping. Many of them are profoundly dissatisfied with coming to our warehouse and lifting dozens of boxes into their vans (prompting me to say things like, "Wow, it almost like you work for a shipping company or something").
One fellow was especially irritable the other day because we requested a pick-up when it was getting close to 5:00 p.m. He grumbled during his whole visit using language extremely foul even by Irish standards, and, when he found out we were preparing still more outgoing boxes, he marched into the warehouse itself and told the employees––again using the most indelicate language possible––that they had better stop.
It's the flavor of Irish charm they don't tell you about in tourism advertisements.
Complaining is a national pastime in Ireland, and even the happiest people partake. (A doctor Katherine and I visited––he was English, to be fair––said, "the Irish are born pointing their fingers"). The best example is the weather––the past two weeks have been very sunny, clear, and even warm at times. Steve, a friend of ours and a Cork native, described this stretch of pleasantness as "fierce mild." On one particularly sunny day when I was at work, a driver for the warehouse's shipping contractor had an interesting take on things. When his box scanner wasn't working as well as he would have liked, he blamed "all of this bloody sunlight. The thing's just not used to it. None of us are." He continued on the topic: "F'ing weather. When I got up it was cold, so I put on a jacket. Now it's f'ing sunny and warm and I had to take off some layers. It's a pain!"
All of this is usually good natured. Not to be taken as a genuine complaint but as a conversation starter or ice-breaker. But other drivers for that shipping company I mentioned fall squarely in the unfortunate territory of chronic griping. Many of them are profoundly dissatisfied with coming to our warehouse and lifting dozens of boxes into their vans (prompting me to say things like, "Wow, it almost like you work for a shipping company or something").
One fellow was especially irritable the other day because we requested a pick-up when it was getting close to 5:00 p.m. He grumbled during his whole visit using language extremely foul even by Irish standards, and, when he found out we were preparing still more outgoing boxes, he marched into the warehouse itself and told the employees––again using the most indelicate language possible––that they had better stop.
It's the flavor of Irish charm they don't tell you about in tourism advertisements.
***
A complaint of my own about airlines. Katherine and I bought round-trip tickets when we first came to Ireland last fall; the embassy made us do this, otherwise we would bought one-way fares. Well the other day we tried to move the date for the return ticket back to the USA to October, when we have to go to the States for a wedding. Total price for moving the tickets: $2100. On the other hand, we could simply not use our return tickets at all and buy a new set of round-trip fares for the wedding. Total price for the latter option is nearly $1000 less. How does this make sense?
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At the warehouse I get a 50% discount off of the wholesale price on the golf clothing they sell. It's a great perk and I get pieces that would usually sell for over €100 for around €20.
But how much I save is dampened quite a bit by the value added tax, or VAT, which is European jargon for sales tax. The VAT is added onto every sale of every item; grocery, vehicle, or home. And in Ireland, the current VAT rate is 21%. You read that correctly. So next time you find yourself complaining about a 6 or 7% state sales tax rate, think how much worse it could be (Denmark has a VAT rate of 25%).
But how much I save is dampened quite a bit by the value added tax, or VAT, which is European jargon for sales tax. The VAT is added onto every sale of every item; grocery, vehicle, or home. And in Ireland, the current VAT rate is 21%. You read that correctly. So next time you find yourself complaining about a 6 or 7% state sales tax rate, think how much worse it could be (Denmark has a VAT rate of 25%).
I'm pretty sure, if you save your receipts, you can get your taxes refunded in the airport before you leave the country for good. Since you're not a citizen of Ireland, you're not required to pay taxes. That's how it worked in 2003.
ReplyDeleteNorth Cork looks quite quaint! As St. Patrick's Day approaches there is much talk of "green" everything here in NJ. Green beer, green bagels, etc... It will be interesting to hear how the Irish celebrate the Irish-American day on 3/17. Keep those perspectives coming, they are wonderful!
ReplyDeleteIn comparing notes with Casey 101, it will be of universal curiosity to learn via eireapparent (c) as to how the indigenous Irish honor Saint Paddy. Is March 17th a landmark date for the citizens of the emerald isle? As in Chicago, is the river dyed green? As in Manhattan is the center line of Erin Go Bragh Way painted the hue of the Irish landscape? And will our honored and esteemed author report in as Brandon O'Righi on this highest of all Irish holy day? We await these future postings along with insights as to what section of Cork is inhabited by the Leprachaun's along with where the pots of gold are stored. All in all ... most enjoyable. The photographs are an excellent complement that punctuate the paragraphs with the requisite visuals. Many Thanks for bringing us all back to the homeland. Keep us posted with your lilting and poetic prose.
ReplyDeleteBrandon O'Righi! Now that has a nice ring to it! Irish-Italian, eh?
ReplyDeleteAnd I do believe that John is correct....you'll recoup the VAT if you have your receipts and fill out the required paperwork. At that rate, it would be worth the effort!
Thanks for the VAT tips, I have looked into it. Unfortunately they've reformed VAT refunds recently; you can't be reimbursed for food, drink, general "services", or lodging (our biggest expenses, obviously). Really the only VAT you can reclaim is on non-consumable retail items. So if we go on a shopping spree at H&M or Topshop, we're golden.
ReplyDeleteI will indeed be reporting on St. Paddy's Day as celebrated in Cork, so stay tuned...