West Side Story

Ballsbridge presents a rather posh face to the world - and yet, catching glimpses of back yards, I can never quite help feeling like there might be some drama of West Side Story dimensions happening right behind it all.

Funky flora

Four years have passed (precisely! It was also during the World Cup), and I still miss my little balcony in Berlin. It was tiny, but big enough for two chairs and a table, or one IKEA Poäng armchair, and, most importantly, it was home to my four large flower beds. I had decidedly maternal feelings for all my plants, monitored every new passion flower and nasturtium bud and many unnamed other blossoms with pride, and it improved the view from my bedroom remarkably.

Since then, that hasn't happened again. My remaining indoor potted plants didn't seem to like Hamburg much. Only three survived and accompanied me to Poland, and then, the transport back to Germany in winter temperatures killed them off in the end. (I'm still mourning them.)

In my new Dublin home, I only share my bedroom with a potted plant named Colin (he's growing well so far). But I miss growing flowers from seed.

I do, however, observe all the flora that I pass on my way to work. The mild and wettish Dublin climate does seem to be good for front garden plants, and apart from an enormous amount of fuchsia bushes, there are also huge roses, and some funky things by the canal that I cannot identify (but captured on virtual polaroid). Yay for summer flowers, balcony or not!

Past victories - glorious future?

I'm posting this as a backdated entry, just in time for tomorrow's match!
I will be cheering from Málaga this time but so far the "cheering from abroad" concept has been working splendidly...
Go Schland!

Rock star (complimentary pun for Germanophiles)

It has only been three years that this skirt lay in corners, half-finished. In fact, it moved cities and countries with me - three times, in total - before reaching completion. But now, the time seemed right (or actually, I just happened to find the thread that would not tear while trying to attach the wider bottom of the skirt to the yoke. For those who care about the technical details).
It's stretchy linen with a late 60s-ish print and a 50s-ish shape and I'm quite content with the result, even if I am not sure when/where I'll wear it - maybe it will accompany me to Brittany in a month, and I'll try to blend in with the stereotypically well-dressed French women.
Or at least I won't look German at first glance. Dublin confirms my impression from my times in other places: German tourists have this habit of dressing painfully reasonably, at least once they are over the age of 45. They take the phrase "urban jungle" very literally, and European capitals inspire them to don outdoor jackets and hiking boots, backpacks with big water bottles in their mesh side pockets, and they never quite trust the fact that most European capitals are very happy to sell you all kinds of refreshments on every corner of every touristy area. No, they carry their homemade sandwiches (sneakily wrapped up during the hotel breakfast) and will frown at maps every twenty steps, completely ignoring friendly natives who might be quite happy to help them, if only they ever looked up. Sigh. May this skirt save me from fitting in with them. (Oh, I'm also under 45.)

Missing owls

I quite enjoy my new home but there is one thing I still miss, and that Dublin hasn't been able to provide: After several months, I still catch myself walking along streets with half an eye cast on walls and signs, trying to spot graffiti owls.
Sadly, those wonderful creatures seem to restrict their habitat to Wroclaw. I miss them.
Walking around Dublin, I found a few nice stencilled things on houses - generally, Dublin in this area is remarkably graffiti-free. As far as ugly tagging goes, that is fine with me, but I do miss the clever owls that adapted to their specific locations.
The only remotely similar thing is this dinosaur that seems to be quietly taking over Dublin 4. If only it varied a little bit or interacted with its surroundings... then I might see some potential to be a tiny consolation in this owl-free environment.

Quick visit to Samuel Beckett

 It is STILL summer in this fine city. Natives claim this isn't really possible, and yet it is still warm, even by continental European standards. (Yes: Weather is a huge issue here, and forever a great source of small talk material.) So after a day in the office, it is a good idea to make some use of it and go for a walk.
This stroll took me along the Liffey to Dublin's newest bridge - looks like a harp, but is named, mysteriously, after Samuel Beckett.
In other news, we started an a cappella group at the office! Amazingly, it has more guys than girls so far (but mostly tenors). Fame is surely right around the corner.

Cheering from afar

It may be a little harder to feel the World Cup enthusiasm for your team from abroad... but not much. Not when for each match, there is a a crowd of over 50 Germans (and German-friendly folks) gathering in the same pub to cheer.
It worked, too! Surely, the war paint on my face and black/red/gold outfit contributed as well...
Go Germany!!