My Year of Meaningful (2011)

BBQ!
This house!
Tomorrow!

Must
make
compilation mix!

AAAGHHHH!!!

clean!
house!
now!

Well we did it (a few weeks ago actually).
We finally got the Evacuation: Ireland blog up and running.
And my dearly beloved just left his first entry, in english even! I'm so proud of him.

Anyway, we'll see how it goes. At least it saves us from getting accused of not keeping our families updated at the same rate, of the same news, all the damn time. We haven't delivered the address to them yet but I sense it's coming some time this week. H. is strangely really excited to get it started.

http://bringonbots.blogspot.com/

whatever. as long as they dont start reading *this* ballsy forum of testiculation (The act of talking bollocks whilst waving one's arms about wildly)...

This weekend didn't revolve around booze, fun, or anything exciting. Just my friggin IEMA exam (so I can become an Associate member as I am now but a meager peon Affiliate). UGH!

Friday: Aine gave me the day to do my exam at work. Which was good considering I had 2 weeks to do it and naturally in the last 3 days I had only answered 3 questions out of 10. oops. Well anyway the company is paying for my membership, so they might as well make sure I pass and give me a day to do it at work, so whatever, fair enough. I stayed at work til nearly 7pm (atrocious!!) and still only had 5 questions answered. But damn they were good answers.

Saturday: NINE HOURS on this machine. OK thanks be to WHATEVER that a few choice angels happened upon me in my hours of need on the ol' Instant Messenger. That was nice. Thank you. Breaks. Must.have.breaks. Finished the night at 1am with still 2 questions left to answer.

Sunday: Woke up "early" at 10 or so, went straight to the machine again, starting with the hardest one (which turned out to be the easiest), and left myself the easiest one for last (which turned out to be the hardest!!) unreal!!! Completion: 5pm.

I'm glad I did it. I'm also nervous. Olivia is 1000 times more smart than me, and she failed it last year. Yeah it'll be great if I can have the AIEMA letters after my name but I'm trying not to count chickens pre-hatching.

It was actually strangely fun to write 400-word answers. I like the feeling that I am actually writing about stuff I KNOW about. Something strangely different from all those tests/papers in college. Just goes to show you actually DO learn a lot on the job. I found the hardest thing sticking to the 400-word limit. I was constantly going: highlight--> tools--> word count and seeing numbers like "505" or "450".... ugh. edit edit trim trim.

The Mr. was his gorgeous saintly self during the whole thing. making me tea, baking brownies (brownies?!?! we've never had brownies in this house WTF!!!), and doing all the jobs I wouldn't be fielding this weekend... laundry, breakfast, cleaning... etc. OK we found a couple hours on saturday to go out for coffee and a bit of shopping but that was IT.

For my own record, here were my topics. Let's just say a quick prayer that I don't have to re-do it again next year with a whole different set of Q's:
Q1: hydrological and carbon cycle impacts
Q2: improving biodiversity
Q3: advantages/disadvantages of bio-fuels, particularly palm bio-diesel
Q4: EIA - specifically port development
Q5: Key Performance Indicators (KPI) of environmental performance
Q6: Fair Trade
Q7: ISO 14001 / Environmental Policy writing
Q8: Global ENergy Security / energy efficiency
Q9: Transport Assessment vs. EIA traffic assessment
Q10: Environmental legislation specifically Ireland related.

I found number 4 definitely the biggest breeze (I just finished WRITING a port development EIA!!!!), and number 8 & 1 the hardest of all. Mainly number 8 because it was midnight and I couldnt pare down the words enough, and number 1 because I learned that shit like 1000 years ago and now I'm old.

Here's to September, when I get the results. -sigh-

Oh yeah, it has a happy ending: reward = Bob Dylan concert tonight.

Right so I better write this down before it nearly becomes a WEEK away and I forget everything.

So the 3rd and final trip we made was to Martin in Amsterdam. Jéan would be joining us that night (Saturday) and we would hang out with the 4 of us and leave Sunday. At which time we would just hang out with M & M and leave for home on Monday.

Well, I woke up (in my massive orange hat) on Rens's floor next to H. that morning, both of us fully dressed and Michiel on the floor 3 ft away from us and other random boys scattered throughout the apartment. We struggled around the house for a few hours, not really accomplishing anything of any quality, but finally managed to eat a few sandwiches and drink some coffee and laugh about the night before. Then Evert left for Eindhoven, Gert went to the boat races, and Michiel had to go home to Utrecht. So Rens and H and I were left to go to the beach and sweat all the crap out of our system. It was, after all, a beeeeautiful day. And very relaxing to sit in the sand and dream away, while sobering up.

So after getting rid of our Hague hangover (by something like 5pm, my baby and I hopped on a train to A'dam, where Martin was only JUST waking up from his massive night before. So it was all good timing. We had a couple beers waiting for Jéan to arrive, and took it easy.

UNTIL J. showed up. Without going into the boring details, let's just say we sat at M's kitchen table drinking and talking & catching up (our 1st reunion with all of us in 1 place in 6 years) until the sun came up. WHY did I have to drink nearly 3 bottles of Rosé??? WHY!??! Because I was sick of beer from the 3 days before? Because it was so cold and refreshing and delicious? Because it would be really cliché to share 3 bottles of Rosé with my gay bf Jéan, rather than drink beer? WHY?!?! Um, because I LIKE puking in the kitchen sink? Oh definitely.





So the next morning, J. left, and M & M & H & I went to this huge hippie/cultural festival in the central park of Amsterdam. It was a great way to recover. a million billion booths of ethnic food and wears and stages with alllllll types of music playing, from Cajun to Congolese, on another beautiful day, in one of the most beautiful parks in Europe.

I didnt even drink anything all day... we just laid in the grass on a big picnic blanket. And rested. Listening to great music, eating at sporadic intervals over a period of 6-7 hours, watching all the different thousands of cultures of people (and all the different varieties of hippies!) wandering through the park, relaxed, and happy. We ate little fried breads from Surinam, delicious crispy loempias from Indonesia, and (ok I admit it) a BRILLIANT Banana beer from somewhere in west africa (Malawi maybe?) Happy happy day. Finished it all up with a late dinner in a Lebanese cafe near M's apartment, and went to bed at a decent hour. Just perfect. I love amsterdam.

This was SUPPOSED to be my re-cap on the final 1/3 of our trip last week. I even had a title thought up... "Antics in Amsterdam"... photos, everything.

But instead I just need to get this off my chest:
I had the most incredibly terrible event of low, rock-bottom-hitting, self-esteem crash of my life.

I never felt so friggin crappy about myself WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?!

WTF!?!

It just. hit. me. last night.

I played a CRAP game of rugby;
I have random acts of petty hatred and angst for no good reason;
I am ROCK BOTTOM in our World Cup pool;
I do several thousand things half-arsed, but not ONE thing well;
I have a tendency to be a mean selfish cow, particularly to the most perfect, undeserving-of-meanness man in the world;
I tend to skate through everything on luck and not skill;

We went to the pub to watch the Holland v. Argentina game last night when all this occurred to me. I had 3 gins and it STILL didn't go away.

It's just one of those "I generally suck at the moment" ruts.

-sigh-
oh well...
Amsterdam Antics coming soon to a blog entry near me.

The Hague was where it all went terribly comical. That was the day that the Holland vs. Ivory Coast match was on. Rens was fabulous and organized a huge viewing party on the beach in Scheveningen, where he lives on the harbour, and where the greatest %age of our Hannes-related dutch friends are located at present (or thereabouts). What happened was that the beach air and breeze and sun made me psycho, and I was slugging beers with the boys (at their pace) from about 2 hours before the game, then proceeded to go check out Bram's new flat (with the most incredible view over the beach) where we proceeded to dip into his champagne collection, at which stage it was time to go BACK to the boardwalk/beach area and meet up with the Hannes-boys at which stage I was 70% lit already. The game started, we were on some sort of "all you can drink for 30 euro" plan, and my girl Marije arrived... finally someone to slow down my pace.... NOT. Let's just say everything after halftime was a blur. I forgot to eat when the food came out after the game. I just turned meat on the barbeque for everyone, and ran my mouth. blah blah blah blah blah. Perpetually blah-ing and not eating. And drinking. It was fun.

I looked like this.



That's me & Marije. She's wearing a lion on her head.

Regardless, the football watching party/bbq ended in hilarity as there was a notorious important Dutch political party, similar to the republicans of america, having a big party at the same beach cabana as us. When their speeches commenced, during the bbq, our table began singing outrageously loud and profane dutch football hooligan songs, OVER the speeches. Needless to say we earned very few fans but I proceeded to have the most incredible piss-drunk laughing fit I have ever experienced on this planet. The looks on those suit-wearing arseholes' faces were worth the price of having some random citizen coming over to us and telling us that our disrespectful behaviour was out of line. ahem.

Here's some of our main culprits:





  

  

  



In the end, there was random acts of beach photography, random acts of schmoozing with a random, entirely over-sober political party, and some sort of trip to a nightclub. All I know is that rumor has it (not that I would remember, due to my outlandish spastic state) there was an event of Jill falling over in the night club, people not being allowed in, and my boy Evert throwing oranges onto the dance floor. (to which I ask "why the &^%$ were there ORANGES in a night club??? To which I was informed: well DUH! It's the world cup! EVERYTHING is orange!!!!")

OBVIOUSLY!

What I DO know for certain is that our trip back to Rens's place after the night ended involved myself nearly breaking Gert's hand, a ride in a grocery cart, and me falling asleep in my prized bell-jingling orange hat.






(That's me and Cornelia. The guy? Hell I dont have any clue who the guy is. But seeing how he's dressed, I'm banking on the political party.)

Probably the best thing about coming home from overseas is coming home in the morning. It gives you the whole day to unpack, check email, do laundry, pick up the puppies from the kennel, blah blah blah. And be rested for your first day back at work. DOH!!! WORK!!! But really there's nothing worse than flying into Cork or whatever, at midnight, totally wrecked, and then falling asleep in a pile of dirty laundry only to have to wake up in 7 hours with nothing in the fridge, and feeling completely exhausted, and STILL having to be at the office at 9.

We got back at 11 this morning. While it was no fun to wake up in Amsterdam at friggin 7am to pack and make the airport on time, it's well worth it when you get home.

Everything went brilliantly as far back as last week, seeing as I only had to work 2 days that week. :-) Tuesday the mancakes and I started off our usual holiday ritual as always with our bottle of champagne while packing late at night, instead of well in advance, before we left. This ensures that (a) things get left behind, and (b) it takes 200% longer than it should, but who cares! It's holidays!!! I'm just glad that this time, it wasn't my toothbrush I forgot - rather it was the whole toiletries bag with all our bathroom stuff in it. But luckily, we were only 5 minutes away from home when I realized. So we could turn around and get that. In the end it was really only my double-headphone set for GOD and my sunglasses that ACTUALLY got left behind for real.

Netherlands was it's usual fabulous self. The weather was great, most of the time, we saw nearly everyone we truly WANTED to see, and I got outrageously drunk darn near every single bleedin' day. Typical week in Holland.

This trip was nice because it was a non-inlaw, non-Frisian trip. We divided our time between Nijmegen, The Hague, and Amsterdam. We also segregated our socialising by: Bron & Maurice + Roy; Hannes's Wageningen friends; and Martin & Marjolien + Jéan, respectively.

I think I better break this all into parts. There's a lot to recall. For today I'll leave it at Nijmegen:

Seeing Bron & Maurice for the first time in 4 years was probably the highlight, mostly because this means my reunions with everyone important from my Australian life, is now complete (since leaving in '02). And I love the kind of reunions where you arrange to meet at the train station at say, 2:30, and you just walk around the corner, and see them there for the first time in 4 years, and it's like "hey how's it?" "cool, good to see you! lets rock n roll, what do you wanna do?" . . . . just like that! Like nothing has changed, not even each other's looks (basically), and you pick up exactly where you left off smoooooooooth sailin.

After hanging out in Nijmegen the first night and getting wasted with B&M (just for something different) watching the World Cup matches & catching up, we thought we'd take it easier the 2nd day and rather go to the mommy and daddy's house for lunch and good chin-wagging. Maurice's mommy and daddy are about the cutest little dutch mommy and daddy I have ever seen. They even invited us to stay for dinner too, which was so sweet.




This was well welcome seeing as the mancakes and I had cycled from Nijmegen alllllll the way out to Grave where they live, THE WRONG WAY. It ended up being a 2-and-a-half hour bike ride (not bad for the hangover actually) of around 80 kms. But it was through the Heumense bos (or something like that) forest which was so beautiful and I didnt mind it at all. When we met up with B&M FINALLY at Grave, they came and met us BY BIKE. This must be CAPITALISED considering it is BRONWYN we're talking about here. Never even in my wildest dreams could I have ever seen Bron on a bike. But this is Holland and thats what ye do.


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We all 4 cycled to Ravenstein for a few drinks, which is probably the cutest little old town ever. All cobbles and old buildings and dykes. B hasn't changed a bit-- she's still a white-wine-drinker extraordinaire. And even though her fledgling Dutch makes her sound like the most hilarious assylum seeker on the planet, at least she's trying and she's doing a damn fine job in my opinion. But I have to say, actually BIKING with this girl nearly had me in stitches. Just the surreality of it all. The girl who drives to the corner shop for fags about 200 metres away from her house.




Probably the best thing was seeing how happy she and M. seem to be these days. I felt like they were in a completely different headspace to what I remembered from 4 years ago. It was really sweet. And M. was in really good form - quite social, actually... we had to laugh. It's just weird seeing people in a completely different element. Fun.




Drinks with Roy at night back in Nijmegen again (1st night as well), and not having seen HIM in 4 years was pretty unreal too. He hasnt changed much either, but his english has gotten progressively worse which I had a fun time using against him, Mr. Perfectionist intellectual. He looks great, and is single again, so I've decided to attempt to pimp him off to the highest bidder. As soon as I find a single girlfriend who isn't 10000 miles away.




Next stop, Den Haag.

I have just witnessed the worst football game in the history of the planet.

OK I'm sure that I'm probably forgetting some random friendly game between the Former Yugoslavic Republic of Macedona vs. FRANCE or something back in 1984 or whatever. . . But STILL

This was TERRIBLE.

USA vs Czech Republic = 0-3.
And not just ANY 0-3, like a really really LUCKY 0-3. It damn well should've been like 0-12.

UGH.

Even their body language was shocking. It was like they didnt even CARE. Those boys in blue were just WALKING all over the pitch just SLEEPING. 90 damn minutes of SLEEPING.

It wouldn't bother me so much, but I'm the only damn one in the damn office betting pool to have the damn USA down as the winners. . . and I was already at the BOTTOM of the ladder after the first 8 games!!!!

It just gets better and better. . . . . RRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

It says something, doesn't it. . . when your friend thinks of YOU when she reads this:
http://washingtondc.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/168265652.html

Thanks Beth. . . That was the good ROFLMAO that I needed.

And yes, how could I ever forget the pub in Galway. I believe their names were Mr. & Mrs. Snobby vonYuppington.... and their precious package Poopiekins?? Is that who you mean?!

The World Cup 2006 HAS STARTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And sure, maybe you need to be anywhere outside of the USA to appreciate it, but even as an american I just... am overwhelmed by the fever that is sweeping the planet at this very moment, as Germany plays the opening game against Costa Rica. Being that it's IN Germany this year, we actually get to watch the games at decent times, unlike years that it's in random time zones like South Korea or Argentina.... (or when it's in Europe and you live in Australia and have to wake up at 3 in the morning to watch...) So.... lucky me, this year!!!!

I love soccer. But I REALLY love the World Cup, specifically because it's every 4 years. I kind of love the European Championships (every other 4 years)... not as much as the World Cup. It is the single most watched sporting event in the world. Much more than the Olympics.

2 of my former countries of residence are in the WC '06. USA and Australia. Granted neither are favourites to go all the way through, but this is their most strongest year yet (both of them), and in the betting pool at work, I have both of them through to the Semi-finals. Risky, yes. But in case of a dark horse showing, my bet is on one of the 2.

My adopted country, Holland, is actually very very likely to go far. I am so excited about that. They have a very strong team this year and what's most important: they're not fighting within the camp. Or so I'm told.

For the next 6 weeks my baby and I will enjoy bonding over football, following all the results, biting our nails over our respective betting pools, and most importantly: watching the Netherlands games at the Shelbourne bar amongst a sea of orange, where all the Dutchies in Cork go to watch their national pride & joy. It is indeed an exciting time. Moreover, we'll be heading off to NL next week to watch Holland play Ivory Coast. It'll be phenomenal, watching the Orange army, in a pub IN the land of the Orange. WITH our Orange friends, wallowing in the Orange sea. Much better atmosphere than here...

What's more? Ireland didn't qualify this year. No Ireland in the competition. Everyone here is so depressed about it. But since it's a country of football-maniacs, they have to support SOMEONE. Which is really funny to hear how everyone picks who they're going to follow.... many have decided upon Ivory Coast, as their national flag is the Irish one, in reverse. A lot are going for Poland, since there's so many Polish here now.... sort of a gesture of good will in an otherwise extremely racist country. A handful are going for England, since all the Irish lads have favourite English Premiership league teams, whose players will obviously be playing for their home country in the WC... but not many.... MOST Irish people are too closeminded to EVER support the English... annoying. And then there's those who just want to support the underdog to be silly. Like Togo. Or Trinidad & Tobago. The local pop radio station has fallen in behind T&T. Funny stuff.

I'm running the office betting pool, and the pot stands at € 300. I can't wait to score everyone's entry forms & predicted scores after each game. Nerd-alicious, I know. I picked Brazil to win, beating the Dutch in the semi-finals. Actually most people picked Brazil (obviously), with Argentina and Italy coming in as 2nd and 3rd favourites. We'll see, I guess....

let the games begin!!!!

Number 17 THEN....

Number 17 NOW:

Cutest Romanian mommy & daddy in the whole world. And Dan. And JACK. We had to ask nicely if they could bring the Coke along. yeesh.

Oh Mr. Daniels, why must you make us so non-photogenic?

And just exactly What happens when Jack comes around too many times in one wedding? Naturally... Jill picks up the Banana Phone and proceeds to do that Drink & Dial-thing.

Back to the wedding... a very classy Romanian wedding toast. Oh, and there's that damn JACK again!!

One course of the wedding dinner. Note the 3 different steaks of 3 different meat types. AND a side of bacon. Not bad for 1/8 courses.

A random daytrip out in Romania: Lovely stray dog, and oh there's Mr. Daniels. With his girlfriends Champagne and Sparkles. Oh and SNACKS of course.

Martin and Dan AND JACK 

It's one of those rare bank-holiday-weekends in which we're actually sitting at home for the whole 3 days, rather than running off somewhere. Must recoup from the long week in Romania, and what better chance to do it?

But it gives one unsettled gal a lonnnnnnnnnng time to think. Hmmmm... musings:

One year ago I wrote a blog entry (which I later deleted) about the typical weekday evening of the Family W. It had this photo in it.

There was also this one:

Now I'm just blown away because I realize that this was a YEAR ago. And what are we doing today!?? How much has changed?!?! Holy shit! Not a lot! I mean good lord I took THIS photo today:

OK granted it's a frozen Between The Sheets instead of a glass of red... the BBQ I was standing at this night had steak on it instead of lambchops/sausages, it's located ON the deck now instead of up against the garden wall, and H's hair is a lot longer... and now the chances of seeing him sans-doo-rag are hovering between 5 and 10% (which really freaks me out, knowing he started the doo-rag obsession round about the exact same time my friend S's SIX YEAR OLD CHILD started the same thing...) but really the basics are exactly the damn same. We both even wear the same t-shirt/hoodie seen here. This freaks out a person who would normally otherwise not ever have the opportunity to feel such deja vu on a yearly basis, as there would typically have been some sort of uproot-and-move-location/city/country thing involved.

So let's write about moving.

We're on the 6 month countdown now. THIS is freaky. We've gone from seeing it as something sooooooo far in the distance, to seeing it as "better get ready to sell the house. Better find a place to live in Gabz-city. Did you get a quote from that moving company/dog transport/etc. yet?" It really hit home this weekend when Theo proposed moving the office from it's current location IN Gabz-city proper, out to the bush where he and L. are living at the moment, into a bigger house where he could move into and work from, until Dec., when we could move into it once we get there, providing a smooth transition. He proposed this one, which is vacant, right around the corner from where they're living at the mo'....:

http://homes.point2.com/Botswana/Kweneng/Gabane_Real_Estate/269629.aspx

This is surreal. This is me picturing myself actually THERE, typing this entry, instead of HERE.

We have set up the new blog template for the countdown to evacuation, and even the husband-unit is looking forward to posting weekly updates for the friends & family, etc. But for some reason, I'm just dragging my heels on starting the first one.... for some strange, strange reason.

Next musing from the weekend... I spend too much time at this computer. Part of living overseas means nearly every friendship I have is conducted via email. I must say I'm pretty damn good at friendship maintenence. So I don't rest until every single email is replied to out of my inbox. That takes a lot of damn time. Then there's this extra job. Everything is done between me and Theo via the net. That means I come home from work, and I go straight to work. And my fingers are so GLUED to the keyboard that I find even when I want ENTERTAINMENT, it's right there. . . on the friggin computer!!! Web surfing and music downloading is so EASY when you're just right there already. Sometimes I feel like it's my only outlet to the rest of the world, and simple, seeing as I'm sitting in the damn chair already. This thought raised it's ugly head when I finally finished a book, recently. Yeah a book. Like my 5th in a YEAR. I don't read that much. And Hannes... he finished a book too. He read The DaVinci Code, after I finished it, and forced him to read it so we could go to the movie (which we did this weekend, because he did finish it!). That was the first book he's finished since we've been married. We both spend too much time at the computer. It's true. But until the company runs itself, and whatever whatever, well? What can I do?

Next musing. The health regime. When we were in Romania we ate and drank like there was no tomorrow. It was a typical J.W. binge. Everywhere we turned, we were being treated like royalty (typical with any foreigner in RO) and being fed and pumped full of alcohol in mass quantities. They LOVE Jack Daniels over there. THe main drink AT the wedding was little goblets of Jack daniels. I am not making this up. I would post photos but Blogger is NOT being kind to me with photo posting today.

Even when Dan's sweetest cutest little mommy and daddy took us all on a sightseeing tour of Iasi, THEY BROUGHT JACK DANIELS. And snacks. And champagne. Needless to say I was wasted, a lot. We all were. We were also always eating. It's Romanian custom for everyone to make you feast. All the time. At their homes, at the wedding, when you're hanging out, etc. etc. Did I mention at the wedding there were about 8 courses? Jeeeez if I even mentioned ONE thing about how I liked *this* cheese or *that sausage*, SHAZAM!!! Out of the kitchen it would come, AGAIN, in BULK. . . "ohhhhh Jill likes it! make more! Make more!!! Quickly!!!" it was out of control.

So now we're home and we're being very good. We have to. It's off to NL in another week&a half where the same thing will happen again. So every night, the meal is planned, it's healthy, and we exercise. We've been very good, going running every other night, keeping up our daily morning walk, and even squeezed in a game of squash this weekend. Eating means menus like: cold asparagus salad & piece of meat; steak and greek salad; ceasar salad tortilla wrap with miniscule amount of dressing; fish; pure fruit breakfasts, and so on. It's difficult but we're sticking to it. And now I have to get ready to go for another run. The soldier is calling from downstairs. I stacked on some major kilos in 1 week, and it seems like it takes 4 weeks to get them to go away. So I'm glad I live with the disciplinarian. Very glad.

And finally? It was a beautiful sunny weekend. I wandered around in my bikini top, and got some sun. Lots of gardening, and quality time with the puppies and the mancakes. The end.

Really cool chick. (oh and Martin too.) 

Ioana and me. 

The lovely Bia 

If it's one thing that suprised me about our trip to RO last week it's plain and simply this: I met 3 girls, 2 of whom are dating very important friends of mine, one of whom is "the sister", and I liked them.

I just..... ugh, have always had this bad.... no, Terrible habit of not liking girls. Mostly not liking ones that are in serious relationships with my very good friends. No. Wait. It's not me NOT liking girls... I do like girls. Especially my FRIENDS that are girls. It's that I have a very very acute 6th sense of perception. I'm the semi-clairvoyant who can sense the catty attitude & the fingernails that we women are predispositioned to have, and I can feel that THING that hangs in the air when girl-meets-(you)girl and in their mind they circle you like a protective mommy panther, sizing you up and making assumptions about you based on as little as the smell you give off. I just sometimes can't be BOTHERED going through that whole dance, so I tend to back off immediately and . . . whatever. I'm learning.

I was never this protective of my brother. But my brother was never protective of me. Yet M & D were always standing up for me and watching over me, at a time in my life when I needed it most. Man when they knew me back then, I was a bleedin' MESS. So of course I have very high standards for them. I have high standards for all my friends. I want them to be as happy as I am. And yet simultaneously I have this subconscious belief that there could never possibly be another Hannes-- male, or female. So I worry for the people I care about.

As I wrote yesterday, Dan's Bia is as wonderful as any girl could ever be. Meeting new girls normally = that THING hanging in the air until you've circled each other enough times to decide if IT will ever go away or not. Meeting Bia = experiencing an aura of acceptance, innocence, and completely untainted air between you. Meeting Martin's new gf (well if you can call 3 years "new") for the first time last week, was also bothering me, all the way to RO. Probably because I always felt like there was some reason that every time we were in Amsterdam, something would just come up at the last minute and she just wouldn't be available to meet us. I was skeptical.

Marjolien is also a lovely girl. I thought she would seem a lot younger and somehow more immature, but that isn't the case. That was just me overly-remembering the fact that they met when she was barely 21 - 4 years ago. (and knowing he's 29) Irrational me. Here are the rational facts: Martin really wanted to sing a song for Dan's wedding. Sure, it's not exactly Romanian tradition, and true, it would be weird & sappy, etc.. But he really wanted to, and yet had let his own self-conscious intoxicated state nearly talk him out of it, when the Reception & dancing came around. Being the gf who genuinely loves her bf, Marjolien supported him and nearly FORCED him to go through with it, telling us "He'll regret himself so much in the morning if he chickens out now". Sure enough, he pulled it off and Dan nearly wept with honour. Lesson learned: a supportive gf is a good gf. Even for my friend. I got to talk with her many times over the week, and each time she was so nice, genuinely nice.... asking us questions about our life, seeming genuinely interested and totally non-judgemental. And open. Sharing stuff with me after the initial "Thing" was overcome (in a matter of hours). Plus she agreed with me when I bossy-ly told Martin he should wear a suit instead of a tux, so as to not overdress the damn GROOM. Gotta love a girl who has a bit of dress-sense. But most importantly I saw a Dutch girl who wasn't afraid to be affectionate with her bf in public (now THAT'S a first, trust me), someone whom he really adores, and someone who (also) let my buddy go drinking with me and Dan and Hannes on the last night until the sun came up, while she opted to sleep before our 6am departure, with no complaints, no guilt trips, no ORDERS not to. With an air of confidence that said "I have no reason to not be happy that you're having fun with your estranged friends and I just happen to be tired... have a good time!" And that rocked my world. I mean chances are the next time we're ALL together could very easily be... 10 years? 20 years? NEVER?! She understood that, and it wasn't even a tiny bit "It's the Girlfriend Show!". I really dig that girl, I'll admit it. That was really cool.

Then there was Dan's sister, Ioana. (Say "Juana") I like this girl. Not to mention her name is the female of "Johannes", in Romanian. ;-) Now that's quality! I have to admit having never even so much as thought about her before. Only in the sense that (a) she existed and (b) she had possession of the family dog at her/her husband's apartment back when he was still alive, while Dan and I were in South Africa. Ioana was so fantastic I nearly had this spooky sensation that we were long lost relatives. Cousins maybe? Sisters? Surely not! That's cheese-tastic. But really. Every word out of her mouth could've been mine (if I had really bad english and a thick romanian accent), and we found ourselves sharing extremely frank opinions on things that were personal enough that I normally have to know someone for a good few years before I openly share. It's weird what wine, Jack Daniels, and a wedding environment will do to you. The thing we most strongly shared was our similarity in our role as sisters - of our own individual brothers, and of Dan. I really do sense that now I understand a lot of the looks I got from Dan when we were hanging out together so comfortably in South Africa all those days. I even understand what he meant when I something would come out of my mouth and he would shake his head and laugh subtly, muttering something about his sister back home. It all makes sense now. I also understand all those times he was extra protective of me and nearly broke his back trying to look out for me. Even when I was a stubborn, fired-up, over-the top, violent freak of nature. It all makes sense now that I know Ioana.

So here it is. In one of my few, very few sappy "I am woman, loving other women" moments, my tribute to 3 new girls in my extended family, that I really do like: Above all, they're good to my friends.

"Coming down again, coming down again
Where are all my friends?...Coming down again
Coming down again, coming down again
On the ground again, coming down again..."

I think it's possible that there could be a Stones lyric appropriate for every day/hour of my life!

Right so arrived back in cork yesterday and boy howdy if I hadn't slept since 2 days before.

It appeared from the bottom of our glasses of homemade Romanian moonshine liquor, that pulling an all-nighter and staying up til our 7am flight the last day, would be a brilliant idea.

So yesterday we travelled home in QUITE A STATE for about 11 hours, then I took an hour nap, did some laundry, and went to play in our weekly night rugby match. Needless to say I felt like a dog's breakfast. (But we won).

Now I'm rested again, but I just really miss my friends, our short break of unreal fun in a dream-world, and this is the re-settling part that sucks.

I know I could never re-cap in words that are good enough about how the last 6 days were, so maybe I'll need to write multiple entries about it after it all sinks in. But the trip was pure magic. And I don't mean just because it was a 5 day bender during which we just happened to attend the wedding of one of my best friends, to one of the greatest girls in the world. Rather, it was magic on an emotional level, a friendship level, an EATING level and an all-around-unique experience level.
I'll try to split things into parts to be able to process everything clearly. So... well... above all, I found out Dan's (now) wife is an amazing girl. There's not too many girls out there who could marry Dan. He's one of a kind, in a crazy sort of way, and she is there to pay his ticket when he speeds. She's the kind of girl who stays up until 5 in the morning like 4 nights in a row, to let him have a reunion with friends from the old days. Without a complaint! Without a guilt trip! Who battles through a foreign language for 5 days like a pro, even when the going gets tough. She'll make you feel like the most honored guest at a royal table, and accommodate you even at the expense of her own health, wellbeing, and beauty sleep! A beautiful, affectionate, tiny girl who has the patience and tolerance and acceptance of an angel. But most of all, someone who will love, adore and cuddle my good buddy forEVER!