Ain't no party like an Irish tea party

In Ireland, there is traditionally no lunch. Breakfast is eaten in the morning, followed by dinner at noon or 1 p.m. After dinner, there is four o'clock tea, which consists of tea, scones, jam, butter, etc. I hadn't been exposed to the traditional meal schedule until my second week here, since I was living on my own and eating pasta at 11 a.m., 2 p.m., 6 p.m. and midnight every day (breakfast, lunch, dinner, drunk). The realization came in Athlone. I walked out of my room after a night of carousing, and Eimear told me that it was 11 a.m. and that we were supposed to be at some place an hour away for dinner, ''so we're late.'' Something didn't add up but I felt it wasn't my place to correct her mealtime assignments. I later learned that there is basically one large meal a day (dinner) and it's traditionally eaten at noon, but sometimes gets reassigned to later in the day for convenience. When I was staying in Port Laoise with Micheal and Patricia, this took some getting used to. I started out trying to eat a lot at noon, and then ate one or two scones at tea(s) later in the day (sometimes we would have tea 4 times after dinner). I have always thought of tea as a proper occasion, where one sips from a cup and eats delicately and behaves all gentlemanly-like. I soon discovered, though, that my hunger late at night was in no way proportional (inversely or otherwise) to the amount I ate earlier in the day. My solution has been to stuff myself at tea, consuming up to 6-8 scones, multiple biscuits and several cups of tea at each sitting. A decent person would feel like a pig, but I lost all sense of propriety at the ripe age of 17, and have found that since then the world has been a much simpler and more gratifying place. 5 points for reinforcing American stereotypes abroad.

Tea is usually where most of our conversations take place. My American-ism is a never-ending source of amusement for Micheal and Patricia. They find it hilarious, for example, that we call jam ''jelly.'' Jelly in Ireland is gelatin.

Micheal: Auyon what kind of jam... oh I MEAN JELLY! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! would you like with your toast?

Me (hatefully): Raspberry.

This happens on a daily basis.They also find the concept of peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches disgusting, which I found to be borderline child abuse. Last week there was a Danish couple who came over for dinner. They were a bit standoffish, but what really solidified my feelings towards them was when the lady started talking about combinations of foodstuffs.

Lady (with a thick Danish accent): Oh yes Americans eat some strange, weird things. Once, at a fancy dinner, I saw a girl take a banana and (dramatic pause) eat it with chocolate mousse!

Me: Yea that sounds delicious. In fact I could go for some of that right now.

Danish lady (scoffing): Well, I thought it was--

Me (aggressively): What? Amazing? Because it is.

That effectively ended the conversation, save a few condescending looks from the Danish couple afterwards. At the time, I thought of myself as being a staunch defender of one of my favorite flavor combinations, a culinary ambassador to foreign lands. In retrospect, I just came off as a boorish prick. 10 more points for the United States of George W.

My making of ass of myself has not been restricted to teatime, however. I was on a train back to Galway last week and was sitting across from a young Irish couple (late 20's). They noticed my miniature guitar and we started talking about music. They said that they were from around Galway, and I asked them about their favorite pubs, etc. They told me that although there's the drunken Irishmen stereotype, it's not all that true. Everyone, they asserted, drinks a lot. The conversation went from light-hearted to competitive very quickly.

Man: Those Eastern Europeans. They're fond of the bottle as well.

Me: (nodding)

Man: You. Do you drink much?

Me: Only a little bit, not much.

Man: How much?

Woman: Yea, how much?

Me (not wanting to get competitive): Um.. not much.

Woman (getting pushy): How much? And of what?

Me: I like Guinness.

Man (giving me an approving look): Guinness. Good. How much Guinness?

Me: In one night? I don't know.. Probably like 3 or 4 pints. I'm a small guy.

Man and Woman look at each other and burst out laughing.

Me (getting defensive): What? What's so funny? How much do you drink?

Woman: He doesn't drink Guinness.

Man: I don't drink Guinness.

Woman: But he'll have maybe.. 14 or 15 pints on an average night.

Me: (shamed/emasculated)

Man (in a moment of self-realization): Maybe we do drink a lot.

I don't even actually drink 3-4 pints of Guinness in a night. I get full after 2. I just said 3-4 because I thought it sounded respectable. Clearly, I'm an idiot.

In spite of my inability to adequately assimilate into Irish culture on any front, I am having a great time. I think my favorite part of the day is reading the daily news. Galway is a pretty small city, so the average daily crime report is great. The typical article reads something like this:

August 25th, 2007. 

Yesterday, a man from Kerry was found guilty on a charge of ''topless galavanting'' and public inebriation. Seamus O'Flannery was arrested at 4:00 AM on Sunday morning in Eyre Square, after reports of a man ''with no shirt, making a lot of noise.'' The defendant pleaded guilty. ''Yeap,'' recalls O'Flannery, ''I was pretty drunk.'' Mr. O'Flannery was assigned 40 hours of community service.

I envision the confessions of most of the defendants to be similar to the reaction one might elicit when telling a friend that, in a drunken stupor the previous night, he or she attempted to hook up with a houseplant after stripping naked and smearing mud all over their chest. ''Yea,'' the friend would have recalled, ''yea, I was pretty drunk.''

I like this city.

Much love, and I hope all is well with everyone back home,

Auyon