Alcoholism at its Finest
I'm having one of those nights at work where I totally appreciate the fact that the bar up the street opens at 5 a.m. Bloody hell, what is it about being on your first solo shift that means everything will go wrong and stuff that never comes up when there's someone else around will always come up?
My understanding from Kenny is that bars here can serve till 1, and that pubs serve till 3. There must be 4 hours between your closing time and your opening time, and during the Festival, the bars are open till 5 a.m., and the pubs open at 5 a.m. (or is it the other way around?). Basically, you can drink your way through the entire festival. (Dear Tom, thinking of you, hugs and kisses, jo. PS: You can totally come visit, but I'm not paying for the alcohol. *grin*)
Of course, being from Canada and totally uptight about my liquor, I'm thinking this is a bad thing, but I'm still really tempted to pop up to the bar after work.
Let's see, you can get alcohol from Take Aways until 11 p.m., after which you can only buy cases from there. Licensed convience stores only sell alcohol in bottles (and I guess cans) until 11 p.m. as well. After that, they just tell you they can't sell it to you.
This whole country seems to be run by people very fond of their right to alcohol. *grin* (Dear Ralph Klein: As much as I like this country, you'd fit right in. Wanna be exported? Hugs and Kisses, Anna)
And dear lord, is wine ever cheap here. I'm not a big wine drinker, but it makes it tempting to pick up a bottle or two to have. If anyone wants any wine back home, let me know, I'll bring it with me when I come visit next year.
I'm finding the differences between here and Canada really fascinating. Some days it feels like I'm still back home, since I'm not as stand-outish as I was in China, but other days, when Kenny says something is knackered, or that someone is pished (which is not a sluring of pissed, but means the same thing), I get totally confused.
My favorite example of this is from my mistake in asking Kenny and Laura if there were any 24-hour convience stores in Edinburgh. (Kenny says there are 3. Not chains, stores. I think there were more than that within two blocks of my place in Edmonton.)
"Well," said Laura, "There's always the garriages."
"Garriages?" I repeated. As in, rhyming with carriage.
"Petrol stations," she replied.
"Gas stations," Kenny said, giving her a look. (He thinks he has to translate everything into Canadian for me. I must remember to tell him about poutine.)
"Oh, you mean garages!"
I confirmed the spelling, they do mean garages, they just say it funny here.
I was talking to a friend of mine and he said I'm already beginning to pick up the accent, which strikes me as funny because until I started working I barely spoke to anyone Scottish. He said it's just word choices right now, but that he figures I'll be sounding a lot more Scottish by the time I come back for a visit. Which just makes me think of Crash and his wallaby stories.