Connemara Calling

Many things have happened in the last month but I’m actually far too tired from all this WORK to tell you all of them, so I shall succinctly capture all of these experiences into a brief yet humorous blog post.


Today is my day off and I am still in bed at 3.21 pm, because this job is tres intense. For the record, I have been doing very important things from the safety and relative calm of my bed, such as sharing things on Facebook and teaching myself guitar chords from weird old men on YouTube.

Every day is a bit of a blur of cleaning, food prep, noisy dirty school children, giant vats of spaghetti bolognaise, dishwashers and dirty inside jokes. And Spanish. So much Spanish, I think I may be learning the language through osmosis.

There is a kind of Spanish squad, and they all understand each other very well but I often have a hard time making out the words. There are several Eastern European staff who are just so good and fast at cleaning things that I look very slow and inefficient in comparison. My personal favourite is Pavlina who works in the laundry and cleans rooms. She enjoys the song “I like big butts” and her favourite expression of distress is “faaacking heeeel”.

My first week here I felt as though I had stepped into a scene out of Orange is the New Black, where we all wear remarkably un-sexy red uniforms and every nationality has it’s ‘family’, and god help you if you offend someone in yo family, because then you ain’t got no one to back you up in a fist fight in the communal showers. Just kidding. No fist fights..

There are of course a lot of Irish people, several Scots, some Frenchies, and me, the token New Zealander, as usual. I secretly love it. Lindsay, my favourite Scottish lassie likes to imitate my New Zealand accent, and I find myself talking in the way that she talks when she’s imitating me, which is very confusing for us all.

My lodgings in the lodge are very comfortable and warm… At least, my room is. The communal areas only ever manage to stay clean for 1-2 hours and the rest of the time they look like someone has gone into a kicking rage, broken things, and smeared baked beans on all white surfaces. I wear flip flops in the shower to prevent catching foot aids. I avoid ever touching any of my bare body parts to the sticky shower curtain, but I still think I feel dirtier when I get OUT of the shower. The joys of sharing a house with approximately ten 20-something males. I made the foolish mistake of taking my shoes off at a lodge party the other night in order to allow the freedom to boogie, and I have had a small shard of glass wedged into my foot for the last 2 days. I have a mental image from that night of my housemate Bobby sitting me on the toilet and showering my feet to try and get through the dirt to the cut itself.

Basically, it’s the kind of house where you must wear shoes at all times. Maybe even to bed. Just in case.

But it’s grand! We have many shenanigans and spend a lot of time drinking tea, wearing woollen jumpers and silky pants, and talking shite.

We’ve done some trips to the beach, hiking, swimming, and cycling, and the past three weeks have been outrageously good weather. I’ve been doing yoga in the living room, surrounded by bottles, charity shop clothing, balls of fluff, bicycles, life jackets and kayaks. And occasionally boys sleeping on the couch with monobrows drawn onto their faces. It’s not really a meditative environment, but it’s all part of the challenge….

Every day I awake expecting rain and ireland just surprises me again! A late summer, and it will probably end soon, therefore I must seize each opportunity to get out and do activities.

*puts kettle on*


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