Traffic

Since I got home I have driven on the wrong side of the road (once), gone to get into the wrong side of the car (a few times), wondered which way to go round a roundabout and panicked when I thought someone was on the side of the junction that I was supposed to turn into (once each). Not bad considering I really can’t tell the difference between left and right and no accidents have resulted.

In America, they could not make driving easier for you if they tried. There are parking spaces everywhere, and generally they’re free. Traffic jams don’t really happen (although having said that coming home from Asheville there was usually traffic at the most odd times along I-40, usually Friday late night, or Sunday afternoon. I never did find out the purpose of all that construction work either. I always feel better when I know the reason). And then of course there’s the price of petrol.

I hate traffic. I hate sitting my day away in a line of cars that is going nowhere fast. I hate that they are working on the Westlink and that even on a Saturday afternoon you can’t go near the road for fear that you’ll be trapped in highway hell for the next forty five minutes to go two miles. But most of all I hate that I cannot park outside my office without parking on double yellow lines, whilst living in constant fear that a traffic warden might come and give me a ticket. Parking in south Belfast is a ruddy nightmare!


The Westlink links…um the West (of Belfast and indeed Northern Ireland). It joins two motorways (interstates) and saves you having to go into Belfast to get to the other side of it. It was built with limited foresight however, two lanes were never enough even back in the day and gridlock generally results. They are working to make it three lanes and have flyovers. I can’t believe it’s really going to help that much and while they work on it it’s traffic death.

I am actually surprised by how much we are willing to take here. Why should the traffic be so bad all the time? Why should we have to get up at the crack of dawn to avoid it and get a parking space? Why should the price of petrol be so expensive? ($6.35 a gallon)

I know it’s just the way it is and sure there’s the whole global warming thing (which according to my hairdresser in Hicksville doesn’t exist – it’s a forty year cycle to Prof. Snippy Snips whose science took him as far as colouring hair. I’m no scientist either but surely there comes a point where you just have to listen to people who actually study this kind of thing) but it doesn’t take away from making your life just that little bit harder and that sucks.

I know I’m not the only one who feels like this either. Otherwise, why when you go through turning-to-red-traffic-lights when you really shouldn’t have, do the three cars behind you go too?

Hitting the ground running

I'm back in good old NI again, home safe and sound. In retrospect it really wasn’t that bad, but at the time I just wanted to get home. But a day in New York City can never be bad right?


I played on the ‘Big’ piano in FAO Schwartz with the other children (those are the trousers I nearly threw away and Sunday’s tank top. Nice. I bought new underwear from the mighty Old Navy, in case you think I'm truly gross.)


I got me a hot dog from a street seller like a true New Yorker. Which reminds me, yet more people asked me for directions which once again proves my point, I look even look like a true New Yorker! Reason enough to move I think.

I walked up 5th Avenue to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, alas time was against me so I didn't see much. But I was dying for a pee I stopped in at the bathrooms and on my way saw the Egyptian Hall.


Technically I shouldn't have seen this because I didn't pay, but I was about to burst. What can I say, I'm Tina and I stole museum entrance, but I'd prefer to say that than 'I'm Tina and I disgraced myself by peeing on fine art because my bladder couldn't hold on any longer'. I'm sure given the choice, the Met would rather the first statement too.


They love New York. But my question is did they plan it or what it just a happy coincidence?

So since getting back I have started back in the Youth Department, half unpacked, started my photography course, slept and had a partay!

Who says you can't go home?

Everytime Atlanta

Packing was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. I have a lot of stuff, stuff I like, stuff I wanted so I took it all. Well most of it. I finished tidying my office at 3.00am and went home and packed. Packing took forever and at 9.00am I was done. Like I said I had a lot of stuff, everything was weighed so as to not be overweight. I had two suitcases of 70lbs, a box of 50lbs. That was getting checked. My hand luggage is a 40lb suitcase, a back pack, my laptop, a little sport bag. Oh and a poster. A lot of stuff.

So at Atlanta my flight was delayed so they put me on a Delta flight which being Atlanta and the most hateful airport I’ve ever had the misfortune to be in was the in the complete other side of the airport, in the other terminal. So, cart with 230lb worth of my stuff and everything else in my hands had to ‘run’ over to get checked in there. The woman at check in told me she didn’t need the bit of paper with my details, she’d find it on the computer. However what she didn’t know was that the bit of paper had the all important word ‘Belfast’ on it. So my luggage was only checked through to Newark, NJ. So any advantage of getting in earlier than my original flight was instantly wipped as I’d have to go to baggage claim. Eventually they got my luggage tags reprinted with Belfast and said that they couldn’t give me my other boarding card. They told me to go back to the North terminal to get it, but to be quick or I’d miss my flight.

So back to Continental where they told me I didn’t need to be here, I could get the card at the gate. So I left, with all my stuff all over the place, I had ten minutes to get to the gate. At security I had a near meltdown which was actually funny…now. He told me to combine bags, fine I will. 'Do it here' pointing to a space. I moved to go where he told me, hitting him in the face with the poster. He thought this was me attacking him and shouted at me saying I needed to do it here. I cried. And shouted back and probably caused a scene. They marked me for an extra security check. Spiteful gits. Atlanta, as well as being utterly hateful is huge. I had to get the train and then run. I made it to the gate, plane delayed. Super.

On the plane I discovered that there were two other people trying to get the Belfast flight. We got moved up the plane so we could get off. Very handy. Not so handy was the fact we had to change terminal. Again other train. Because of the terminal change I had to go through security, but you’ll remember I didn’t have my boarding card. So there was no way I was getting through there.

I’m not sure I would have made it even if I had my card and arrived in the terminal but the fact I didn’t see the others makes me think they might have. At Atlanta I had been told that if I missed my connection I’d be on my own because it was weather delays, and not their fault. I decided to fly on because trying and failing is better than not to try at all. At Newark they changed their minds and I was put up in a hotel, because Belfast being the major international hub it is, there’s only one flight a day.

I know smart people who pack for just such an occasion where they are stranded. I don’t (plus remember packing was a nightmare). In fact you would be hard pressed to come up with a more useless list of things to have in your hand luggage. Clothes-wise I have no underwear, a pair of trousers that I nearly threw away, a white work shirt (which I would be more excited about if the bra of choice yesterday wasn’t black) and yesterday’s tank top. Security restrictions mean I have no toothbrush or paste, no make up remover and no make up. But what I do have is my jewellery box (no jewellery inside though), lanyards from the Conference and all my bank stuff. Marvellous.

Anyway I’m about to go into New York City for the afternoon. I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully.

Seriously

I should be on the plane. I should be racing the sun to the other side. I should be hours away from Belfast. I should be, but I’m not. Details tomorrow, but it’s a lot to do with Atlanta airport, non existent weather and a missed flight. More tomorrow. On here, not in person sadly.

Seriously running out of time. Seriously.

So when I said tidying had to happen on Friday, apparently I was ruling out the possibility of not doing it then, having a great (but busy) weekend and coming into the office in the middle of the night to file, tidy and trash my year’s work. Still got to pack at home and less than 12 hours til I leave the lake. In fine tradition of Tina leaving on a jet plane, I will not be going to bed tonight.

I think I’m going home a different person to the one that arrived here just about a year ago. But I think it’s a good different.

I no longer get homesick. This is the girl who spent most of her university years missing home yet I have lived in America for just about a year and only got homesick twice. Neither time resulted in my actually crying.

I actually quite like country music. This is the girl who said once upon a time ‘I don’t understand how anybody could like country music’ yet now I can happily listen to Country music and dare I say the words, sing along.

I have improved my writing skills thanks to Princess. This is the girl who, everytime she had an essay due at uni, would have a grand countdown til the word count was reached. I’d even write ‘The Second World War’ rather than ‘World War Two’ because it’d get me an extra word. Seriously. I must write a good one thousand words a week on here.

I'm know there's more, but one thing I would like you to not make comment on is any Americanisms, and any twang to my accent. Kathryn H has already pointed it out to me. But a year, I lived here for a year. It was bound to happen. So let’s just say now I know and I’m working on it. Anyway it’s all of you who have the accent. I talked to Ross earlier on the phone and I nearly couldn’t understand him. I’m trying to believe it was the phone connection and not that fact that I can’t understand my own people. Start to worry if I repeat you when you say 'bin', 'petrol' or 'sidewalk'.

It is totally mixed emotions going home. All in the same breath it’s ‘Yay! I’m going home! Aww. I’m going home.’

I’m excited about living by the sea again, but I’m going to miss the lake.

I’m looking forward to driving my car but I’m going to miss how easy they make driving in America. Gif-ted. Especially now I have the right-side wrong-side of the road worked out.

I’m excited about seeing roundabouts again (even stupid painted on mini roundabouts) but I’m going to miss needless stop signs

I’m looking forward to seeing my friends but I’m going to miss my friends.

I’m looking forward to being in the land of the BBC but I’ll miss all the great US programmes.

My right foot is looking forward to my left foot doing some work when I drive but my left foot is going to miss resting on the pocket of the door.

I'm going to miss the mountains but I'm looking forward to seeing how my altitude training here will help me at sea level.

I’m going to miss free refills but...hmm...yeah, there is no upside to that. I'm just going to miss free refills.

Anyway, I’ve put a lot of stuff on here about my life here, but no means it all. You should hear the stories that didn’t make to the blog, there were some crackers. Funny things just happen to me, I can’t help it. But I really don’t know if I’ll keep on writing here. Somehow I can’t imagine my life at home will be that interesting to y’all. Plus my next employers read it so there’ll be less opportunity to blog in work. Maybe I’ll not write so often. Or maybe when I write, I’ll write to an American perspective about Irish life. I guess we’ll see what happens, which is the principle I tend to live my life by.

Anyway now I really have to tidy now. Seriously.