hello from the emerald isle!
i am writing you from the comfy-cozy claddagh hostel that i am currently calling home. yesterday i moved out. today i moved back, haha.
long story short(er), i was looking for a flat and found one with a bunch of friendly folks a little out of town. i thought it was good, grand even, moved in, then started thinking... thinking about my friends, who lived in the city centre. thinking about walking alllll that way home after going out late. thinking about how it was a house mostly made up of blokes (which brought out every mothering cleaning instinct i didn't even know existed), and the fact that there was no toilet paper. anywhere. not only did i have to pee, i had a runny nose!
then a lovely french girl named marie told me she was looking for a roomate to share a flat in the city centre.
the decision was made when, at 3am, my roomates and a group of their friends came in and blared drum and bass tunes throughout the house. fun if you're at the party, not fun if you are sleeping when the party comes to you and there's random drunken females hollering outside your door, and the drum and bass was not so quality, though i had a bit of a shady disposition toward it at the time. so at 4:30am, what was i to do? obvious answer: i texted my dad, who got confused and thought i was talking about flatulence.
then i packed my bag and, come morning, headed sheepishly back to the hostel full of all my lovely friends.
my new flatmate was very wonderful about this new opportunity i had to live in town, and i hope/believe i managed to stay in his good graces....!
so that has been my adventure for the day.
yesterday i was told i didn't have to go to the salon i'm at temporarily, so i went to work in a different salon for the afternoon. it was great! the only problem was i couldn't (still can't, actually) understand the owner's name when he said it. i called him franz all day, but i am reasonably sure that was not correct. this feeling was solidified after he asked me to write his name on a card for his client, then was like, oh yeah- you don't know it.
so anyway not that much has changed, but a lot has at the same time. still in ireland, still in a hostel, still no permanent job. still having an excellent time. i have started doing hostel haircuts which has proven to be a lucrative business, and i even cut a few randoms' hair. hooray!
if all else fails you will find me, in two weeks, playing my fiddle on the street for money. this may prove difficult because my fiddle's current location is kleefeld, manitoba, but never underestimate the power of being moneyless when all your friends are going out ;)
on that note, i hope this finds you all well and wonderful, don't freeze! don't drown! don't crash your boats while you attempt to wakeboard the floodwaters (i mean you, rachelle)!
...and remember that someone in ireland is thinking of you. isn't that cute, i should make a t-shirt. actually that might be my next moneymaking endeavour. lame tourist shirts! yes!!
all right then, take care all, love to everyone
big irish smooches,
becki
tuscan countryside
derek on the cliffs in cinque terre
