Escape Froméire
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Escape From Éire Jennylynd James Copyright © 2013 Jennylynd James All rights reserved. DEDICATION This book is dedicated to my parents Gloria and Kenneth James for their years of nurturing and patience helping me to develop my talents. Jennylynd James FOREWORD This book chronicles misadventures during a six and a half year stay in the Republic of Ireland. How did a person of Caribbean descent end up living and working in Ireland? It all began in 2004, when I left a lucrative food industry position in posh Westlake, California and travelled to Europe to get unique international experience in the food industry. I had interviewed for numerous positions in the United Kingdom, with no success. Then, by a stroke of luck, I managed to get an interview in Dublin. An Irish company recruiting for their UK office spotted my resumé and contacted me about a new Technical Manager’s post in their Dublin office. They flew me to Dublin for the interview and I was hired. After working with the company for a year and a half, I discovered the job was not what I expected. I then took off on another unique adventure starting my own food business. The Celtic Tiger was at its height. Irish were spending and travelling more than ever before. The sudden prosperity and affluence led people to expand their food tastes, well beyond the traditional meat and potatoes. I took advantage of this newfound interest in food and started a business to promote Caribbean food in Ireland. Running my business led me off the beaten track to many farmers markets, agricultural shows and food fairs. I sold to delis and independent supermarkets throughout the country. Meeting numerous colourful characters in my travels helped to shape the way I view the world today. I also won and lost true love. iv CONTENTS Foreword 1 A Bumpy Landing 2 Dating in Dublin 3 Bring in the New 4 Putting Down Roots 5 A New Dawn 6 Escapes and Escapades 7 Nationwide Coverage 8 Riding the Love Rollercoaster 9 Moving to Tramore 10 Taste of the Caribbean 11 Moving On 12 The Dragon’s Den Experience 13 Goodbye Bad Boy 14 Escape from Eire Farewell Recipe Glossary of Current Irish Slang Words and Phrases Jennylynd James ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Special thanks to my daughter Tiffany for encouraging me through the lengthy process of remembering and recording our many adventures in the Republic of Ireland. Many thanks to Derbhile Graham of www.writewordseditorial.ie for the countless hours spent editing the first daft. Your wisdom and experience were invaluable. Thanks also to Marguerite Orane of www.freeandlaughing.com for numerous words of wisdom, coaching, and encouragement from inception to promotion of this novel. You provided great inspiration for me. vi 1 A BUMPY LANDING Arrival I fell on the conveyor belt, clutching a large suitcase nicknamed ‘mini fridge’. I could not help but laugh hysterically as a kind lad helped me up before I went around the bend. That was my introduction to Dublin Fair City. I arrived on Thursday 1st July 2004, on a10 hour overnight flight from Los Angeles. We arrived at the crack of dawn. With an eight hour time difference between Greenwich Mean Time and Pacific Time, it was very hard to stay awake. The airport looked old and dated. Though it was 2004, I felt I had stepped back into the 1950’s. Black and white photographs of hundreds of Irish emigrants arriving in America lined the walls. Floors were tiled with brown and beige coloured linoleum and buildings were painted in beige oil paint. It reminded me of an old Caribbean airport. We even had to walk to the terminal, which I found quaint. We walked down a staircase from the jet, and across an airport roadway, with attendants controlling the flow of passing vehicles and crossing passengers. The immigration officer asked why I had come to Dublin. I showed him my job offer from the company and he said “Carry on”. I would have to get a formal work permit and have my passport stamped in town. Well, that seemed straightforward enough. And then I was free to collect my luggage. Bleary-eyed, I wondered what I was doing here. With nothing to declare, I walked through the green gates, pushing a trolley laden with three mini fridges and two pieces of hand luggage. A 40 foot container from California would be following in a few weeks’ time. The jet lag was catching up and I had to get some sleep. I stepped outside. The air was chilly, damp and grey. I had 7 Jennylynd James heard it rained frequently in Ireland, but did it have to rain on my arrival? The sky was overcast and the heavy clouds looked ready to pour rain. I joined the line or “queue” as Dubliners called it, at the taxi rank. When my turn came, a taxi minivan was summoned to take all my bags. They could not fit in a car. The driver loaded the van and asked what I had in all those bags. Had I come to live in Dublin? ‘Yes, of course,’ I replied. ‘I’ve flown in from Los Angeles’. The driver was small, with short limbs and a mop of prematurely grey hair. I was disappointed not to find a red haired driver. I had been programmed in America to see the stereotypical Irish red headed leprechaun. I could tell he wasn’t old, yet he wasn’t young. His round stomach was probably the clue. He had piercing green eyes and a thick accent that was not easy to understand. I asked him to take me to the Harcourt Hotel on Harcourt Street. Since I had pre-booked and paid for this hotel online, I got a special deal. I was thrilled with my online purchase for a city centre hotel. Little did I know I was being taken on the scenic route from the airport to downtown, or Ản Lậr as the locals called it. I told the driver that I didn’t know Dublin at all, so he must have decided to give me a tour. The area around the airport was grassy, but with hints of new construction to come. There was a new parking lot on the left. There were plans for a new terminal to replace the modest little building, and for hotels near the airport. One could see signs of modernisation and transformation taking place. There was construction everywhere as we drove along. The driver showed me the new Tesco Extra construction on Malahide Road. New sports grounds were being erected along the way. I remarked that instead of high rises, the urban sprawl seemed to be quite flat. Many old houses were mixed in with shops, pubs and bookmakers. 8 Escape From Éire ‘What is a bookmaker?’ I asked my taxi tour guide. It was quite puzzling to imagine so many places making books. ‘That’s where ya bet on da harses! Ladbrokes, Paddy Power, or Hacketts could make yah a farchun’. ‘Well, I have never bet on a horse in my life. I wouldn’t know what to do’. Betting seemed to be a national pastime. The slew of pubs that lined the streets showed that drinking was also a national pastime. Along the way, I also learned about the weather and the Celtic Tiger, a term used to describe Ireland’s rise in financial fortune. I also learned about the best places to live in Dublin, the political parties, the government, and other gems from the taxi driver’s store of knowledge. We finally got to the Harcourt Hotel, former residence of George Bernard Shaw. I was charged €38 (euro) which I rounded off to €40, even though the meter actually showed a tip was included. I thought I got an excellent deal. This price, however, turned out to be a good rib tickler when I described my journey to colleagues at the office the following week. Harcourt Hotel was smack in the middle of the city. I had a room facing the street. It was a Georgian style building with large rectangular windows, old wall paper, and dated carpets. I felt as if I were staying in a museum. I could hear the wooden floors creak when I walked around. There was a painting of George Bernard Shaw on the wall in the main foyer, to remind everyone that he once lived there. Adjoining the hotel was a pub and beer garden, and also the 9 Jennylynd James D2 night club. This pub had a dining room to serve hotel guests and business people in the city during the week. They sold breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was very hungry after the long journey. Without delay, I deposited my luggage in the room and went promptly to the dining room for breakfast. The menu had a few selections, but the Full Irish Breakfast caught my eye. I ordered the Full Irish and was amazed when the large ‘fry up’ as the locals called it, arrived. The breakfast consisted of an egg, rashers (bacon), a piece of black pudding (blood sausage), a piece of white pudding, baked beans, a hash brown, brown soda bread, and a steamed tomato. Why would anyone steam a tomato? It was my first steamed tomato. I thought they were supposed to be eaten sliced and fresh. I was so hungry I ate ravenously and washed it down with a cup of tea. Then I went back to the room for a well deserved nap. The Big City I took a nap for two hours and felt refreshed enough to explore the city.