December 4th : "Wait: You're french too ?"

Dear Journal,

I've been spending my sunday week looking to my City map, ticking circles and adding infos of it. I walked around in the neighborhood, in order to locate my working place. AND ALSO MOTHERHECKING SHOPPING.

I found two places you have to go to, when you like shopping. 
First, there's Penney's, a huge three-floored mall with scandalous discounts, mostly about clothing pieces. I bought a very smart-looking suit, for something like 30 euros. Which is unconceivable in France. That plus a Monkey suit and a Kazoo. Yes. Nope, I won't answer any questions about that very point, leave me alone.

Second, there's the St Stephen's Shopping Center, a gigantic mall on three levels as well, but waaay bigger, with loads of minishops. I bought a new smoking pipe there,and a new mysterious-looking-black-velvet hat in a dedicated shop with large panels of choice for the finest gentlemen. I bought it because I broke my third one on Tuesday's Major Evening at Tours. I must be the only guy that can break his smoking pipe SEVERAL times.

I'm getting used to the life at Avalon House. I usually wake up at 7am, have a shower, and then go downstairs to have a breakfast for, like, almost an hour, with nice ginger she-Baristas, hot coffee, and a warm decoration of the room. I feel Calm. And that's what changes the most compared to France. I TAKE TIME to have good life Hygiene. I even thought about doing SPORTS. Not work-out, but everyday's sport to keep in good health condition.

Yesterday, I started working as a cook for the Locks Brasserie, a 1-star Michelin gastronomical restaurant, in D8. I walked alongside the channel to go there, and it was like I was working somewhere seaside, a feeling I had forgotten about. Plus, seagulls were flying backwards due to the salty wind, and it was enough to be awesome.

When I first saw the Brasserie, it was overbusy. I entered, had barely time to introduce myself, and the manager propelled me in the kitchen, where everyone was already busy, working, yet welcoming. Let's caricature this a bit, will we ?

-Hi, Sir, are you attended ?
-Ermh not, i'm the new cook, Damien, I was supposed to start tod...
-Okay thank you Damien let's go to the dressing room omygosh wehre is your locker i can't find any ok you know what just get yourself prepared here and go introduce yourself to the kitchen, k ? Thank you ?
-Gosh.

*A few minutes later in the kitchen*

-Hi everyone ?
-Hey, people, look, this is Damien, our new friend, he's gonna stay here for six months, okay ?
-Yeah, nice to meet all of you, i felt a bit anxious at first but then I w...
-Yay-yay, nice too, will you prepare a Gratin Dauphinois, please ?
-Gosh.

We worked intensively but really peacefully, what I liked. I prepared a Gratin which was looking and tasting really good, sliced red Cabbage (very stainful), prepared bone marrows, artichoke cream, and tasted new and complex flavors I wasn't used to, such as hay-smoked beef barely cooked, of Truffle Whipped Butter. The chef is someone silent, but present. There's a french-boy, Tommy, who studied in Tours too, and he helped me to get the work started. The two most interesting people in here yesterday were Killian (don't know if I spell it correctly), the second chef, a guy really noisy, really gross, joyful, smiling, and interested in his job, taking time to explain why goods are good, and Alana, a blonde Irish girl, with a LOCAL accent that took me several headaches to get, as a good frenchie-french that I am. It created a lot of awkward moments because even though she repeated multiple times, I sometimes still didn't know what she
wanted. Well-well-well.

My working hours are usually from 9am to 6pm, or from noon to around 11 pm. It seems long, but the job is
worth it, so it's okay.

Today i'm Off. I think i'll go out, buy some things I lost or lack, then get back home and work on the menu, that is pretty complex and worth the working time.

Today's recipe : Gratin Dauphinois !

Needed : Potatoes, milk, cream, rosemary, thyme, salt, pepper, a head of garlic.

1. Slice the potatoes using a mandoline. Be careful not to cut yourself, because MY hand still hurts. Slices must be REALLY thin or they'll never get cooked. Put them in the bottom of a plate. Butter or grease is optional.

2. Mix together 2 liters of cream, 1,5 liters of milk, some chopped Rosemary and thyme, salt, pepper, and a chopped head of Garlic. Of course, adjust the quantity to the number of potatoes.

3. Set the Cream to boil, then pour it on the potatoes. Set in the oven, 180°C, around 40 minutes. Check with the tip of a knife if it's good, serve, eat.

End of The line !

December 1st : Mayflower-fucking-style, nigger.

Dear Journal,


Today, i've arrived at Dublin Airport. As usual, I was very scared of Inertia : Accordind to my neighbour, I fainted as soon as we left the ground.
I'm VERY disappointed of my brand-new luggage. One of the wheels was torn apart at the airport, and now, when rolling, it's really squeaky-squeaky. Like MOTHERFUCKING CAPORAL SGT SQUEAKY.
It's really weird to stand up once again somewhere you've already been to a few years before. Everything seems unknown, when suddenly, a simple detail reminds you of everything. Such as the strange shape of the airport hub, the curved street before Trinity College, and Trinity College itself, my favourite place in Dublin as it was already six years ago.

Leaving was hard, but arriving was so good in many points, that I am now pretty excited of everything. I feel calm, and confident. 

My room in Avalon House, Dublin2, is great, and I sleep upstairs of it, reaching my very bed by nice wooden stairs. Everything in the House inspires Calm, but Coolness.

Tomorrow, we'll go and walk around Dublin to locate our bosses, awaiting us as soon as Monday. Tomorrow will be about studying and preparing the work to get started on Monday.

End of the line for today.

PS : Photos when i'll have a better connection. I've got ONE photo uploading for half an hour and it's not even done yet.