Why Ex-Pat Wives Rule

So I haven't posted in a few days. . .I have been a little under the weather. No fever but just feeling generally crappy. Fortunately, I can "take it easy" as much as I need. (Read: Stay in my pajamas until the washing machine serviceman arrives at 5PM).

It's been a pretty boring couple of days, but good ones for developing new friendships with the other ex-pat wives. We are all trying to get into a routine for going to the gym together based around weird gym policies, sick children, and appointments. I'm teaching one of the chicas to knit and she'll be knitting circles around me in no time. Mostly we are just a phone call away when things go horribly, horribly wrong. Like with the washing machine. . . more later on that.

Making some American friends here is of paramount importance. Sure, the Irish are really friendly, but maybe they're not so warm or outgoing with us wacky Americans. None of us have had real luck getting to know our neighbors (well, perhaps I have not tried too hard. ..) So we have discovered each other and are making connections.

Ex-pat wife friends rule because with them you can:
* talk to someone other than your husband
* talk to someone about your husband (not that I do that, but if I ever needed to, I could)
* commiserate about the inverse ratio here of "importance": The more important something is to you, the less important it is to the agency upon which it depends. (I guess this is true of all bureaucracy, but even more so here where people are so "laid back".)
* share stories about how you, too, mistakenly deep fried and tye-dyed your best Victoria's Secret underwear in the "delicate" cycle of the washing machine
* unlock the secrets of where to find key grocery items
* discuss your longings for Mexican food and Target
* discuss the slight cultural differences and the new local vocabulary (chips, crisps, brown bread, etc.)

In Cork, unlike Dublin and many other metropolitan areas throughout Europe, there is no American Ex-Patriate society, so the handful of couples who have moved here for the project are our only support system. Some are more "pros" at being ex-pats than others. You hear about the stories in Singapore or being med-evac'd from China and you are eternally thankful that you ended up in Ireland. It's certainly not a bad gig, but things are just different and it's nice to be able to share your trials and tribulations with others.

My most recent misadventure deals with the washing machine. No, I did not blow it up. I think I have learned my lesson.
The washer/dryer unit--yes, it does all-in-one--is a front-loader, so a lock engages when it fills with water. Once the cycle has finished, the device unlocks. Except that the other night it never unlocked. The washer held our clothes hostage for 24 hours until the repair man came. No demands. No negotiations. This thing was not going to budge.
Now, I'm not the kind of gal to sit around--I truly worked to try to fix the situation. I ran the wash again, called all the "girls" to see if they had had a similar problem, tried some other settings, and then I gave up and called the landlord.
I always feel pretty stupid when I call the landlord and say things like "I've tried stuff, but I just don't know what to do." This time, he made me feel less dumb by saying: "I don't know either. Give me a few minutes to think on it, and I'll call you back."
So, thankfully, he's a conscientious guy and got a repairman out the same day. I managed to give the poor fellow the world's worst directions, but he did make it. I knew something was up when the repairman started to look at the washer like I was: head cocked to the side, completely clueless.
Apparently the locking problem is really unusual.
Ultimately, my clothes were released from their bondage and the lock was repaired. And the repair man showed me how to unplug the thing and hit it "just right" to make the door open if it happens again.

Returning to the above theory of "importance," getting the washer fixed was not a huge, must-do-right-now issue. We have plenty of clothes to last a few days. On the other hand, getting my paperwork for the dogs' entry into the country cleared and approved is of HUGE importance, and I was told today that it would take about 10 working days. Um, time is money, people, and I want to book my tickets before they cost thousands of dollars!!!! Just frustrating! That's my impatient American side showing--I try to keep that person at bay as much as possible.

We are cruising into the weekend and have a few plans but mostly we will lay low. I'm hoping to take some more pictures as we have been kind of lazy about that. More to come!