So Now The Weather

We've been here for well over three weeks now and I have been terrible about keeping up with this blog.  Some of that is because most things about life here have already become so normal and ordinary.  We walk, we read, we eat and drink in pubs, we meet a few people here and there and mostly we "figure things out."  There are a million little cultural differences that require investigation, questions, and trial and error to ascertain how things are done here.  Most of them are too petty to dwell on (although, right now, laundry methods are looming large in this regard).

However, I have said nary a word about the biggest adjustment of all, the weather.  In three weeks, there has not been one single day without some period of rain.  This is a particularly sticky problem because today is the first day when I have felt able to do laundry.  Well, to be honest, there was no judgment to be made because my limited supply of clean underwear officially ran out this morning (I know that means that either I have double used or brought an impressive supply and it's actually a little of both).  The problem is that we have no dryer.  We are told that not very many people do have them here,  but, HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE, when it rains every day.

When I got out of bed today, the skies were clear and the sun was shining.  Since that has never before been the case in the morning here, I thought that, "thank God" today was the day for laundry.  I rushed downstairs and loaded the washer.  While I may have rushed, the washer definitely doesn't.  One small load of wash required over three hours to complete its cycle.  The washer seems to have this sort of languid pace, where it turns a few turns clockwise and spritzes a little water on the clothes, comes to a complete stop, rests, and then turns a few turns in the opposite direction.  The rest periods throughout the cycle are infuriating.  Nothing at all happens, and then just when you are convinced that the things is broken, defective, or just stupid, it springs back to life and runs for a while.  This all goes on interminably.  It was twenty minutes before I was even convinced that the clothes had all gotten wet.

During the three hours of slow motion washing, the skies grew cloudy, then it drizzled, then it poured, then the sun came out, then it drizzled, then it poured, then a huge wind blew, then it grew calm, then the sun came out, then it grew cloudy, then it poured, then it cleared, and on and on it has gone.  How is clothes-drying ever going to be possible.

But todays weather pattern is not unusual in the west of Ireland, in fact, a weather change every fifteen minutes IS the weather pattern in the west of Ireland.  They say that the weather in Maine is changeable, but we in Maine have no idea what changeable means.  Every day here has sunshine (usually brief), but every single day also has rain and wind and clouds and mist and, God knows, what else.  Temperatures vary with the sun, and so short sleeves, long sleeves, parkas, sweaters, shorts, and slickers, may each be necessary in one single day.  This is the biggest adjustment that we've had to make.

Locals keep telling us that we'll hate the winter here because it rains "practically" every day.  We assure them that we a ready for it, but the conversations are a bit surreal coming in the midst of a month of September when IT HAS RAINED EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Anyway, I've just hung out my first load of wash.  There is another one languidly going through the endless washing cycle in the machine.  The rains will return no doubt before long.  I am not hopeful of any drying happening at all.  The neighbor says that we can hang the cloth inside if we need to.  She has pointed out a contraption leaning against one of the walls.  We've been looking at it for weeks, having no idea what it could possibly be.  It seems it is a drying rack.  So no doubt our living room will tonight become a drying room for dripping laundry that, in this damp place, might dry somewhere around Halloween.  It's alright, my underwear will make a nice decorative touch.