Bottoms Up

Emigration Diary: Bottoms Up!

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Posted April 17, 2013 by Jenny Foxe in Ramp Specials

I have been promoted from hostess to waitress. Neither term is politically correct, I know, but it doesn’t seem to matter here. I think the former sounds a lot more glamorous too, but the reality is the latter makes more money. So here I go; movin’ on up.
I don’t think I would have taken a job in a restaurant in Ireland. I worked in a few while I was in college but since then it never would have occurred to me to apply. Even here I consider it temporary. I’m still waiting to hear about the teaching course and another dream position in publishing where I’ve advanced through the initial stages of interviewing, but in the meantime this suits me. It’s local, it works well with my childcare arrangements, I like my colleagues and the regulars and it’s a pleasant place to be.
If you enjoy people-watching, the restaurant/bar business is one to be in. I’ve seen blind dates, date-night dates, custody arguments, people eating with families one day on a date with someone else the next, middle-aged couples getting over amorous at the bar, little old ladies drinking martini glasses full of neat vodka in the middle of the day. It’s a small town, if we don’t know someone’s story or whatever the current gossip about them is, we simply make something up. It’s a fun game.
People here have a noticeably different relationship with alcohol than in Ireland. Plenty of people here have one glass of wine with lunch, or one cocktail at happy hour and then go off about their day. I don’t think I ever experienced people in Ireland drinking cocktails at 3pm who weren’t either still at a bar or home in a sorry state at 10. Bartenders are a lot freer with the measures here too. I found this out the hard way when I drank a lot more than I thought one night and suffered the whole of the next day. I can only imagine what bars in Dublin would be like if publicans were so free with their spirits. It’s not that people don’t get drunk here; they do, and dangerously often drive home. It just seems less messy somehow. Perhaps it’s the attitude, perhaps people just handle drink better, perhaps they know when to stop, perhaps all that is just an illusion. I am always surprised when somebody orders a straight up martini with their sandwich or has a few rum and cokes on a business lunch. I certainly wouldn’t be able to get on with my day if I started drinking spirits at lunchtime. I don’t think I want to try that aspect of this new culture I’m experiencing, I’m not sure it’s safe. I’ll stick to my glass of wine after the kids go to bed, thanks.

Egg Hunting

Emigration Diary: Egg Hunting

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Posted April 3, 2013 by Jenny Foxe in Ramp Specials

Last week was Spring Break. All the kids were off school and college. It was very welcome in our school district for kids and teachers alike, after having missed out on Winter Break because of the unscheduled Hurricane Hallowe’en Holiday back in October. It is called Spring Break here because we do not mention Easter in schools. The actual holiday coincided with the days of Passover. Jewish holidays are all observed by schools in New York. Everyone was back in school on what would be Easter Monday to us. Unfortunately, there is no bank holiday here.
I am unsure why the school doesn’t allow Easter celebrations. To me it is not a religious holiday. It is a celebration of Spring and fertility, hence all the eggs and bunnies. The school may have ignored it, but the town sure didn’t. Egg decorations hung everywhere. Baskets and bunnies were available in every store. Most places even stocked Cadbury Cream Eggs much to our delight. They are actually smaller here, only 34g to the Irish 40g. They fit four into what should be a three pack but at least they taste the same. What wasn’t so easily available was a traditional Easter egg: a large egg in a box with a couple of chocolate bars beside it. I found some online but there was no way was I paying $20 for a small Crunchie egg. My mom bought a few in the famed Myers of Keswick English grocery shop in Manhattan, but they were still extremely expensive compared to what they cost in Ireland and compared to how many regular chocolate bars could be bought for the same price. It was nice to get one each though. I’m saving my Maltesers egg for a chocolate nostalgia moment.
We had our own little egg hunt in the garden and later we went down to the town for the village hunt. The park was filled with little plastic eggs filled with candy. There were hundreds of kids. At 1pm the Mayor let down the rope and said ‘Go!’. Kiddie chaos ensued. Adults wandered around desperately trying to keep track of their children. By 1.01pm the park was completely clear of eggs and the rest of the time was spent by families trying to reunite themselves. Afterwards, there was a series of egg & spoon races. My eldest was awarded the prize in the 6/7 year old boys’ category. Although he wasn’t the first to cross the line, the judge decided that he cheated the least. He was presented with a large chocolate bunny. George maintained that he should have won the parents’ race, but the judge was too distracted by a leggy mom and awarded her the prize.
And so we’re heading into the last trimester of school. I’ve already been getting letters about end of year testing and enrollment for next year. I think it’s official: we survived our first New York winter. Now, where’s my badge?