working and working and working some more..

So, I'm here to report that I have a job… Two, actually. It seems the abundant prayers have been answered, abundantly.

I have half way reported about working at Costa Coffee as a barista, but my other job is at the Liffey Valley/Leixlip Hotel. Here's some of the context of how it came about - –

So, I had just started working at Costa Coffee. It had been the first week, or so, and I was at the Covell's house, hanging out with Stacey. I was telling her some of the hard things about working at Costa coffee - how uncomfortable it was for me, and how I had trouble reading and understanding my supervisor, and felt like they were mad at me a lot, just in their demeanor and lack of encouragement. 

Then as I was talking, I got a call from an unfamiliar number. I answered it, and it was Christian from the Leixlip House Hotel (which is the Hotel just down the street from where i live) He was asking about a job interview. I was terribly tongue tied and not sure what to say, since I had gotten a job already, I lamely explained that I had gotten work, and was sorry, awkwardness, etc.

Then hanging up I looked at Stacey in a confused but excited way, explaining what she couldn't hear on the other side of the phone. And then I was like, "why did I just say no?" Then thinking about it - "could I do two jobs? could it work? I should at least try!" we concluded. "now what do I do? do I call back? What do I say??" 

So she calmly and smilefully coached me, "call back and explain what happened and even make a joke of it if you can." so I did that, and it worked beautifully and he didn't seem to mind at all, and I had an interview that evening at 5:30. So, it seemed perfect. The interview seemed to go really well, and he said he'd let me know on Monday, a week from then.

Leixlip house is in connection with another hotel called the Liffey Valley House which only does weddings, and a few days later, Leslie the manager of LV House called me up to set up an interview. I went just before work at Costa, and was slightly more nervous to talk to her, because she seemed very busy and abrupt. I was tongue tied and un-suave, words gushing out of my mouth, and not really explaining my work experiences very confidently. 

At one point (and this is particularly embarrassing, brace yourself) Leslie even managed to say to me, "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but for future interviews you go to, you need to see yourself more; I had to practically pry certain information out of you, you know?" oh dear. She ended by basically saying, "you seem like a delightful girl, and you tick a few of my requirements, but I'm just not sure if you can go in and start without any training, and I need someone who can start as soon as this weekend. I have 3 more interviews today, and I'll make my decision by this evening, so if you don't get a call from me this evening, know that you didn't get it."

I did not get a call that evening.

In the midst of all of this, my dear friend Patti was here for 2 weeks visiting me and enjoying Irish life. I have to admit that hosting for the first time was an adjustment along with learning a new job and figuring out how to live here still. Patti was very gracious, but I still wished I was able to do everything as I would have done it in Seattle.

I’m remembering that I’m not that great at dealing with planning traveling details. Only having a pocket of 2-3 days in my eclectic work schedule, we knew we had to plan something quick.

Somehow the Internet ate up all our plans (It wouldn’t process our information to sign up for trains, buses, or hostels..!), and we ended up just going to sleep, feeling exhausted, with the plan of getting up early and just going into town and buying a ticket there at the station.

So, we went. My friend Amy Garden was going to come with us, and with the help of friendly Gillian our USIT miracle worker, Amy was able to figure out how to rent a car (even though most places only allow 23+ year olds rent, and most cars are manual not automatic) so, then off we went on a bus to the air port to pick up our shiny car (whom I named Gwendolyn).

Amy drove the first leg of the journey, because she was more used to driving on the left side of the road. I only feared my life a few times.

The destination: Killarney in County Kerry and the Ring of Kerry, tourist destination extraordinaire.

We were all Very excited to get out of the city. Our first stop was at Wicklow, which had a gorgeous view of the east coast of Ireland!

Along the way, I got a job interview at Next, a clothing store, which was quite exciting. But Then the next morning, I got a call from the Liffey Valley House offering me a job to come in that Friday (the day we were to return) to work at 5:30. I was stunned and a little nervous. But this was the answer to prayer I was hoping for, ya know. (I ended up not going to the Next interview, because it was at the same time my job started!)

So, that Thursday (Thanksgiving day) we gave thanks for the glorious Ireland sights. The Ring of Kerry was so spectacular. Seeing fields of green (this was a couple days before it started snowing like mad on Saturday.) and Sheep! And then we saw the coast, and I was so happy to see water. =) I got to drive on the left side of the road, which was also thrilling, and it was so nice to have a car and be able to stop whenever and wherever we wanted.

That night, we made some soup and ate biscuits and drank hot chocolate, and it was a marvelous end to a glorious day.

The next day, we drove back – a short but unforgettable visit. It took about 4.5 hours to drive back, and I was feeling a little nervous to be starting a new job that evening.

White button up shirt. Black knee length skirt, “sun-kissed” nylons, and black flat shoes. Hair pulled back in a ponytail. I was ready.

Working at the hotel that evening, I had so much fun! That night I shadowed another girl, and everyone was friendly and gracious about showing me where things were and what to do. They were So Nice! I could hardly believe it. And the hotel itself was gorgeous, all decked out for the wedding banquet. And it was fun to see all the families and people so cheerful and well dressed and happy to celebrate.

PLUS, they gave us a break while the group was toasting, and we got to eat dinner, and eating is always good, especially getting to know new people.

Someone gave me a ride home that evening, and I was probably glowing with thankfulness at their kindness and how well I liked it.

The next morning, I had to get up for the breakfast shift, having to be there at 7am, which was pretty brutal considering I had worked the night before until 11 or so. I was also particularly stressed because I had to work from 7am-12pm at the hotel and then work 1-5pm at Costa coffee, which was just hard, going from one to the other with only the stressful bus as a break.

That was the morning it had begun to snow as well. And working at Costa Coffee was increasingly more stressful, because they were beginning to train me on the coffee machines, and mistakes are more crucial and more frequent while making coffee. There is so much to remember!

I have had a really hard time working at Costa (which is why in comparison, the hotel job has been so dreamy). But at Costa, my supervisors are all very hard to understand (they mostly speak with heavy Polish accents) and are very stern in their manner. I am usually very tense when I work there, because I am so afraid of making mistakes and having them correct me or be discouraging. I feel very bothersome having to ask all the time, “could you repeat that?,” or “what did you say?” but if I didn’t, I’m not sure what they’re saying when they train me or what task they want me to be doing. I have put a lot of my stress of being in a new place into my feelings for this job, but I think it has been difficult besides all of that. 

There's so much more I have to say on the subject, but I should leave it at that for now.

The Bus Reports

The Dublin buses and I have such a love hate relationship.

Since buses are a primary event in my life, I have many bus incidents to report. Multiple times, I've seen the chunky blue and yellow mammoths plowing past, and I have attempted to run to catch it, often with my arms outstretched and reaching while I skid down the street (which I'm sure looks absolutely hilarious if I was just an observer). Many times, I miss it by seconds, because the bus just doesn't stop unless someone puts their hand out to signal it. But other times, there's a line of people, and I just make it (I try not to forget these times as well). Today was brilliant, I just arrived at the stop in Dublin, and maybe one minute later, the bus 66b rolled by; it was like magic! Because you know, it gets very cold waiting for buses... and if you've just missed one, you can expect to wait 20 or so minutes till the next one comes to collect you. (that's the word they use here: collect you. =)

So now, there have been a couple Saturdays where I work both jobs, which adds up to about 10 hours total, an exhausting amount for one day. Coming home from working at Costa, the bus stop I take is at the top of a large incline, but if you go up the even steeper embankment, you can get there faster! So I'm trying not to slide down the snowy slope, and I look up, and there's the bus gliding past so rudely. I try calling out, try stumbling up faster, try waving my hand, reaching desperately. My voice is faint though, and it's too late. It had no reason to stop, so it kept on going. Afterward the word, "Wait! Wait!" kept replaying in my head. If I had just arrived seconds earlier... if I had just yelled louder...

I feel like in some metaphorical way that posture of my arms outstretched in desperation is how I've been living my life lately. "Wait! Don't leave me behind in the cold! Wait, please! I am in such need of a lift of warmth!"

There is also something about crying on a half-empty bus that is miserable and relieving and sort of necessary at times. It's happened on a handful of occasions, either because I am overwhelmed with how I've uprooted my entire life to a new place and foreign place, or because my job makes me tense and feel humiliated, or because of the various hurts in my life that bubble back up to the surface when I'm already stressed and require a few tablespoons of tears.

On Sunday, my housemate and I dropped Patti off at the airport at a terribly early hour (like 8am=) and coming back from it, I kind of just sloshed around my room in a sleepy, mournful manner. Then I was like, Man! I need to look up when I should catch the bus! I looked it up. shoot, one was leaving Right Then! So I rushed out the door. On Sundays there are fewer buses operating, maybe only one per hour, so even if you get to where you need to be like a half hour early, it's the only option besides being 15 minutes late. So I dashed through my neighborhood, though I must say it is terribly frightening to dash anywhere with the entire street and sidewalk being converted into a slippery ice rink. so I more slippered my way along, huffing and sluffling in the cold.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I live on a hill; it's called Captain's Hill (not sure who the captain is, but maybe he lived around here somewhere=). Now, it's a mere incline compared with the Mountain I had to climb every day last year. However for Ireland, it may as well be a mountain the way it's described, especially in this weather. I am embarrassed to describe this, but I must admit that every time I have gone down this hill into the village this week, I sort of shuffle along like a child who has just discovered static electricity on carpet. Granted, I'm also concentrating on not falling, so my face is usually scrunched a little in concentration as well.
It wasn't really possible for me to catch the bus, because it was due to arrive at my stop about 15-20 minutes after the scheduled time said it would leave the first stop from Maynooth (it's a very confusing way of doing things, you must understand - and also involves an amount of math power)... but I was trying anyway, scooting along as I was.
Rounding the corner after the hill, I see the terrible sight I knew would be there: no one was waiting at the bus stop. This is my true measure of whether or not I've missed the bus or not. A healthy row of 4-7 people and grand, I came just in time. A deserted sidewalk and, we've surely left without you.
So, seeing no one there signaled for the wave of panic to sweep my heart off my feet.
What was i to do? I was going to be late, and then they'd fire me, and I'll have failed, and, and, and, and. oh no.
So that's when I tried calling every person I knew who had a car. I think one of the worst feelings is relying on people you don't know all that well and feeling like you have nothing much to give in return. I really don't want to burden people.. so this is when I missed the freedom to drive my little Cora and to not have to depend on others. This is when I felt so alone without my network of people I could depend on, it hurt. This is when I felt so lost and scared and like a nuisance to others.
And after no one I called picked up,
And after I told God all of these things, I remembered:
Wait! what time is it? when do I work? 2, not till 2? and what time is it? 12:20? And - Oh. Oh, I'm okay. There's a bus that leaves Maynooth at 12:40. I have until 12:55 (at least) to be there. I - am going to be okay. Are you kidding me, Sara? Why did you freak out like that? geez.

It all was okay though. It was all okay.

Probably my favorite bus story though happened nearly a month ago now. I was working at the catering job (the first and only shift, so far) at the Irish Modern Art Museum. And I was able to leave at 11pm instead of 1am, which was actually rather marvelous because then I didn't have to pay the 5 euros for a night bus. So, but since I had been on my feet for too many hours (and since I foolishly chose to wear high heeled boots) I kind of stumbled out of the museum, my feet barely giving way underneath me. Excellent. so the next task is to find the nearest bus stop. After asking someone who had no clue (in the darkness of night time) I sort of limp in the direction mus travels. After going a block or so, I am horrified to see a 66 bus coming towards me. The horrifying part is, I am no where near a bus stop, and it will pass me without a thought. But feeling defeated already, I stretch out my arm (and I wish I could show this to you) but my face contorts into an agonized, "NO!!!!" position, and my arm with fingers also extended, as if by some magical power I can make the bus pull in next to me and open its friendly doors and whisk me home... but, so the bus driver sees me, and he ends up stopping at the light, nearly in front of me, except for a lane of traffic separating me. We make eye contact, and I just stand there, not sure what to do - would he let me on? cars are coming in the lane that separated us. Then, like a, "do you want on?" he motions with his head. Then I mouth, "CAN I? REALLY?" He opens the door, and I stumble across the road, my feet wobbly below me still.
Oh my gosh, I must look totally smashed! I get on safely enough, thank him profusely, and he drives off. I begin fumbling around to look for money. my purse isn't obeying, and my fingers feel shaky. (I'd just been pouring gallons of wine and champagne to dressed up important people). I can't seem to get my money out, and my feet decide to give way. Oh my gosh, Sara - you are Sitting on the floor of the bus, right next to the bus driver. Oh my word! Somehow though, that was the only was to find the right change. Totally embarrassed by the entire event, I waddle up the stairs, clutching the railing as the bus chugs on. My feet keep slipping on the stairs though - those silly high heeled boots. Did that just happen? I slump into a seat, and seconds later the bus pulls into a stop (where I should have been waiting). I could hardly believe that just worked, and even more so how totally drunk I must have appeared!
Yes, the bus and I definitely have a love hate relationship.

God Provides.

SARA LEE NOW HAS A PART TIME JOB!

yay! =) story to follow... soon.

Grrr.

SARA LEE REALLY NEEDS A PART-TIME JOB!
(and for the exchange rate to go down)
(and to eat more regularly)
(and to trust)

In the Whirlwind

There's something of a windstorm outside. Every few minutes it pushes past, so that it would seem my house's stomach was rumbling rather rudely.
My fingers are cold, but more than that, I'm quite amazed that my Internet is at Full Throttle right now.
Is it shameful that this simple yet frequently unreliable amenity drives me to exhaustion with frustration? It's no one's fault, except maybe my computer's.
Today my jobless status made me want to cry, then made me want to hyperventilate, (which I can spell correctly now) then made me laugh, then made me weep uncontrollably.
Maybe it's not just that. Maybe it's that I'm stuck in a muck of anxiety and I-miss-yous and wondering why I decided to go so far from home. Why did I decide to leave all the people and places I love?
Because there is more to the world than everything I know in Seattle.
Because Ireland is beautiful and green and an adventure.
Because I needed to grow up at some point.
Because I wanted this so much.
Because God said so.

Deep breath. okay.
So, the funny thing is that I love it here and I hate it here. I hate that I hate it here, but I can't seem to stop wrestling with my fears and stop being so stressed about getting it all down right. Ok, hate's a bit too strong of a word, (so don't quote me on that).. I guess I just feel lost. I think, "a job will solve all my problems," but at the same time, I want the Right job, which is specifically clean, non-embarrassing, will somehow be a step-up in my long-term career goals, plays to my strengths, deals with people, pays well and is quite possibly impossible to get. (thus the feeling of utter despair) And then the realization that I have to throw out my pride and settle for whatever, and trust that God will make beauty out of anything, because I know he can.
I know that it's in the struggle that we grow the most. And I know, at least I've heard, that what I'm feeling is all relatively normal.. but maybe people just have a better way of hiding it than I do (which is really quite possible since I have trouble enough in hide and go seek, despite my smallness)...

I was reading Henri Nouwen this evening, mostly because he knows so much about loneliness and fear and not belonging that I almost always feel like he knows exactly what I'm going through. I'll share with you:

"You are constantly facing choices. The question is whether you choose for God or for your own doubting-self. You know what the right choice is, but your emotions, passions, and feelings keep suggesting you choose the self-rejecting way.
The root choice is to trust at all times that God is with you and will give you what you most need. Your self-rejecting emotions might say, "It isn't going to work. I'm still suffering the same anguish I did six months ago..." And so on. It is hard not to listen to these voices. Still, you know that these are not God's voice. God says to you, "I love you, I am with you, I want to see you come closer to me and experience the joy and peace of my presence. I want to give you a new heart and a new spirit. I want you to speak with my mouth, see with my eyes, hear with my ears, touch with my hands. All that is mine is yours. Just trust me and let me be your God."
This is the voice to listen to. And that listening requires a real choice, not just once in a while, but every moment of each day and night. It is you who decides what you think, say, and do. You can think yourself into a depression, you can talk yourself into low self-esteem, you can act in a self-rejecting way. But you always have a choice to think, speak, and act in the name of God and so move toward the Light, the Truth, and the Life."      - Nouwen

I find that as in Job's case, it is in the whirlwind that God speaks most clearly.

Shock Waves (nourishment is important)

Stacey’s having me read a number of books, which is actually rather helpful. =) One highlights the symptoms of culture shock.
The funny thing is, I remember taking notes from my Living in Another Culture class that I took 2 years ago, and it must have been the same content exactly. But then it was so sterile- just simply words that my dear professor was explaining.
Now to be in it. I see the difference in learning something theoretically verses going through the very steps yourself. goodness. I was reading it Tuesday night, and was like - this is why I am feeling this way! This means I'm not the only one! This means I'm Normal! Anyway, but I wanted to share it, so maybe others would understand what it's been like a little to be in a new culture. Whether or not we even realize it, when we grow up in a place, we learn all these clues and rules about how to interact with people, how to operate, but it's all done silently, so a lot of times, you can't even fully articulate it... but when you go to a new culture, all the rules are different:
"These signs and clues include the thousand and one ways in which we orient ourselves to the situations of daily life: when to shake hands and what to say when we meet people, when and how to give tips, how to make purchases, when to accept and when to refuse invitations, when to take statements seriously and when not...
...being continually put into a position in which you are expected to function with maximum skill and speed but where the rules have not been adequately explained..." (... is REALLY hard!)
The book went on to describe the overall symptoms of culture shock:
anxiety
homesickness
boredom
depression
fatigue
confusion
self-doubt
feelings of inadequacy
unexplained fits of weeping
paranoia
physical ailments and psychosomatic illnesses. 
(in addition, signs of withdrawal symptoms or aggressive symptoms will also occur.)
I kind of hope that things will start evening out now, and I'll be starting to adjust. But I'm not sure how long it will take. I guess I'm also concerned about losing touch with friends back home, and the fear of being replaced is sometimes overwhelming.
Today when I had to find the bus stop and crossing the streets was fairly terrifying, I kept saying to myself, This is an Adventure. This is an Adventure. And somehow, that actually helped. I'm only going to be here for a year, so I don't want to be stuck too long in the down slope of culture shock. I have kind of already decided that I'm going to look back on this year and call it one of the best experiences of my life, because it's been so good to see another part of the world, to meet new people and take risks, and be stretched, and grow like a tall and healthy sunflower. =)
Lately, the tipping point(s) or most frustrating things for me have been that my Internet just stops working at about 10pm every evening (which would be prime time for talking with people back home...) The other thing is getting around without a car. and the third has been eating right (I had a bad experience with making an omelet and it not tasting like it should), and the fourth has been not hibernating in my room (which is so easy to do!) but spending time with people. The fifth is figuring out what people actually mean, reading cues and such and not feeling too out of place.
I think i'll go try to make some food now. =) Nourishment is important.

The day I almost died.

A year is going to go by so fast, so they say.
Waiting for the bus with no hood in the pouring rain... makes that year go by much, much slower though.
Tuesday marked my 3 week "anniversary" (basically I'm in a juvenile relationship with this green country, where we're awkward and hopeful and desperately counting every second together, pretending it's been forever or so)
Gosh I have so much to learn.
I went to my first interview in another country today. The plan was that I'd be a half hour early or so and have loads of time in getting there. I was perhaps most nervous about that, because on the phone, the manager seemed amazed that I was even going to try to travel by bus, "how are you going to make that work?" she kept asking, "I don't know if it will even be worth it to come in for an interview..." After stammering awkwardly on the phone, I replied, "well, I'll see how long it takes and give it a try.."

So, the plan was, take the 1:10 bus to get there by 2. However, it didn't come to my stop until 1:33. I sat nervously for all 15 minutes of the bus ride, trying real hard to remember when to get off. Once I did, Stacey gave me instructions: Okay, walk under the bridge, then go straight up the hill for a while 'till you see the Costa. 

Okay. 

So I went, but then all of a sudden, the sidewalk just ended! I tried - all right, I'll just walk on the grass... but then there was a busy road, and still no sidewalk on the other side, only a hill that would be harder to walk on. I had to cross to the other side of the street, 4 lanes of fairly heavy traffic.

I am going to die. 

And if I was dead, that would mean I'd be late for my interview. Jon's interview advice echoed in ominously: when someone comes late for an interview at my shop, we just disregard them entirely. 

But every time I stepped out, cars kept coming. 

I am going to die. 

Tears. This is impossible, why is everything I try to do so impossible? I went back to where the sidewalk ended, and just decided to go. Just went for it. 

Somehow, I managed to not die, and running down the street, I made it to my interview. It took 15-minutes to run/walk there. And I arrived at 2:01. The manager, Anna asked if I wanted some coffee, and she gave me 5 minutes to wait. I didn’t die, and the interview seemed to go fairly well. So, we’ll see. I’d love to work there, I really would. She said she’d call me on Monday to tell me what she decided. It would only be for Christmas season, unless someone quit or moved, so we’ll see.

I’ve had a series of good days this week, which off-set the low ones (this seems to be the trend for me)

I’ve been enjoying getting to know my roommates (I’m in the sitting room with them now, watching Irish Rugby, which is happy) and connecting with other BUNAC people (like I’ve had meals with a couple of sweet girls this week, which has been lovely, since we’re all in similar situations.)

 I find that if I actually initiate with people in saying “Hi,” or “how are you,” or “gosh, it’s been rainy today!” People actually respond to me and chat awhile. I am learning a powerful thing: I am not totally alone, and most people have opinions or thoughts to share. I am enjoying being a listener.

I think the first couple of weeks, I put immense pressure on myself: I should talk to every person I come in contact with, I shouldn’t be so sad, I should be out meeting people all the time, or else I am doing a poor job of being here, I should, I should I should...

Phil and Cheryl and Stacey and Jon have helped a lot. Be patient with yourself. We are under grace, after all. Be in prayer, instead of trying to carry it all on your own shoulders (since that’s impossible to bear alone).

I really do love it here. The people are pretty friendly, especially when you initiate. Like the other day on the bus, I started chatting with the lady next to me, and she told me all about places to go in Dublin and about her family. Before leaving, she gave me her number and was like, call me and I'll show you around. 

The trees have begun to change colors. There’s a certain smell in the air, whenever I go walking in the evening – it’s of peat burning, a really thick scent that fills your lungs quickly. I know I’m going to miss it when I have to leave in a year.

A year is going to go by so fast. Almost 4 weeks in now.