I have written at length about my experiences in Ireland. You've seen pictures of questionable quality and commentary of questionable value (something I am quite good at) But on every vacation there are these little bits that occur to you that seem quite odd. Most of them are of the "different culture" variety but I found them amusing enough to keep a few notes on so that I might pummel you with them here.
I have already written about the fun of driving in Ireland. This isn't about that, it is about the cars that dot the roads. Nowhere have I seen an odder collection of cars and car names. No doubt they are similar across Europe but to an unseasoned eye used to the blandness of the American automobile experience it added some interesting spice where none was expected.
Names were the most fun. I made note of a few names and honest to god I am not making any of this up. I drove a perfectly ordinary Toyota Corolla but somehow missed out on driving the Yaris. Ford seemed to be quite popular, I found quite a few examples of the Mondeo (something like a Taurus) and the Orion. There was the Honda Jazz and the Seat Ibiza. BMW sensibly stuck to numbers as did Mercedes Benz, or so I thought. One day I ran across a Mercedes Van called, of all things "Vito."
The other thing I found amusing was that almost every big 18-wheeler on Ireland's roads has one or two big yellow signs on the back proudly proclaiming "Long Vehicle." I so wanted to get some yellow paper and a magic marker and put a sign in the rear of my Corolla that read "Short Vehicle."
My ride back to Shannon airport was considerably easier than my trip down. I had better directions and the roads were almost empty at 6 in the morning. So I am relaxing and enjoying the ride. On the radio 95FM is playing it's odd mixture of popular music. I am following the directions the driver for the van to Clonshire gave me and lucky I got them. As usual the streets are poorly marked, if at all. When on the radio comes a U2 song. Somehow hearing an Irish band sing "Where the Streets Have No Name" was the perfect cap to my Irish driving experience.
What the heck am I doing watching TV? Two words: sore muscles. At the end of the day's riding I was beat and spent a couple of hours just relaxing on the bed watching a bit of telly. This is where the culture differences really kick in.
Ads and brand names were the most fun.
It seems that the brand name Dannon must be offensive to British ears as over there it is Danone.
In the US Knorr goes to great lengths to inform us that it is pronounced "kuh-nore." Not in Europe it is pronounced like any good German will tell you is proper: "nore" with a silent "K"
For some strange reason the clothing retailer known in the US as TJ Maxx is known as TK Maxx in Europe. What is it about the letter "K?"
There was this ad for a supermarket called ASDA. This ad featured employees going about their daily duties. They then turn to the camera, give a warm smile, twist their rear into view and smack it with their open hand. Do that in the US and it means "kiss my ass." I have no idea what it means in Europe, obviously not kiss my ass!
Then there was this cutsie ad for Dolmio featuring some silly puppets acting out your standard silly reasons that Dolmio spaghetti sauces is the best. Ever watchful I notice as some text flashes by on screen during the ad: "Made in Holland." OK I give up why Holland?
And finally I am somewhat disappointed after seeing this particular ad (seemingly) several hundred times over the span of the week that I will never learn "What Tuffers did next." Damn!
Then one evening, I think it was my last night, after another fabulously delicious dinner at the Dunraven Arms restaurant. I wander out back for a look around. At the edge of the parking lot between the pools of light cast by the parking lot lights I park myself at a fence. The fence looks north to yet another ancient church not quite a mile distant. There are a few sheep and cows wandering around the pasture that comprise the church grounds. To my left off in the distance are the ruins of something I can't quite see. There is a soft breeze blowing and the earthy smell of the pasture wafts in my direction. It is beautiful and very peaceful. I sit on the fence and gaze out upon the countryside. Up above a few stars poke out of the soft Irish skies. I am happy and at peace.