The Beach Boys Were Wrong...

Today was a fantastic day for me.

I was privileged to attend a luncheon with my fellow intern, Helen. The lunch was hosted by a company that produces duck for consumption. This was not any ordinary luncheon though... a four course meal (all of the dishes except desert featuring duck), even with a sorbet to cleanse our pallets. And all of this amazing food was cooked by a chef with a Michelin star, which is apparently a rather big deal in the hospitality industry.

Anyhow, when we arrived, I was given a glass of champagne and then proceeded to mingle amongst the people there. That was a little hard for me, as I find I am not a great conversationalist, and it is hard to jump into conversations about where people are from when all I know is Dublin, Belfast, or the few stops on the DART. Luckily enough for me though, Irish people love to talk, so I don't think they noticed much if I was a bit quiet.

Then we moved inside to enjoy the lunch. Helen and I had to sit at different tables, which at first mortified me, as Helen is a WONDERFUL conversationalist, and I tend to rely on her to fill silences and whatnot. So the thought of being on my own was quite scary. However, everyone was interested in where I was from and how long I would be in Dublin. I found that just listening, or at least appearing to be intently listening in on a conversation seemed to be acceptable.

The lunch lasted a few hours, and allowed a chance to hear what Irish people thought about things like Bono, Ground Zero, and Paul McCartney (the chef who did has last wedding was at my table... a rather young chap that favored Justin Timberlake).

Eventually, as the numbers dwindled following this supreme food and a few glasses of red wine, only Helen, myself, and three journalists were left. They were a lively bunch, and apparently well known journalists. We chatted with them for a while, and they asked us to join them at the pub across the street... so we did.

Of course being the lame American, I just asked for a coke. I mean, a glass of champagne and the red wine was more in one day than I am used to... so they reluctantly ordered me a coke... by the end of our pub visit I somehow ended up with a vodka and tonic though (which I found very tasty). So these three journalists, buying us drinks, were just dishing out tons of advice and wisdom to Helen and me. We were at the pub for more than two hours, and it was just a grand time! They told us it didn't matter what schooling you had been trained with, a real journalist made it based on good writing, period. They also said to find your voice now... and that people will respect you more for telling the truth rather than fluff, even if they asked you to be a guest to write about their institution.

I felt like I should have been taking notes, and I don't even want to go into journalism... but it was just such a treat to sit back and relax with these men who were real successes in the industry and just amazing characters.

I mean, how many times in the States would I have an opportunity like this?

Anyhow, as to why the beach boys were wrong... it's not California girls that are the best in the world. I was informed twice that Southern girls are the most amazing girls in the world. That the Southern accent is "so f***in' sexy." I found that amusing, and thought I should have come in putting the drawl on a bit heavier. Apparently Irish men will do anything for a Southern Bell.

I also was given duck to take home with me.

So... after all of this amazingness, I decided that working with the hospitality industry, though I have no passion for it, definitely has perks, and that finishing school would have been so very useful. I know you are supposed to work your way in on forks and knives, but it is easy to get lost. I constantly had to look at the girl next to me... and to try to figure out how to eat the food.

I tried a lot of things I swore I didn't like before today, like sparkling water, well, alcohol in general.. and I had my fair share, though in that classy way with just sipping over long hours of conversation, dark chocolate, and even asparagus. However, it's easy to try things you didn't think you liked if it is presented in a gourmet fashion... so Duncan says I must have expensive taste.

Well, I believe that is all for my amazing day. Tomorrow is back to the ordinary life :) Our editor asked us to pick something up for her while we were there and it totally slipped my mind until I was on the bus home (seven hours after we arrived at the luncheon)... so hopefully that won't be a big issue...

AND... I ran out of minutes on my phone, so sorry Dad that we got cut off in the middle. I can still receive calls, but I have to go add minutes tomorrow (if I can find someplace that doesn't close before I get off work).

Whew, that was a lot, but not nearly enough to convey the excitement of it all.
Much love,
Whitney


P.S. Duncan said he didn't have much today, but he has the day off tomorrow, so he'll probably write some then!

Cheers

P.P.S. I thought this was worth mentioning... one of the journalists and I started talking about the aftermath of Katrina, and he commented on how odd he found it to be that these HUGE casinos in Mississippi were being rebuilt before houses for the people there. He pointed out how wrong it was for people to be living in third world conditions in the power-house of the world. I thought that was very true, and some good food for thought.