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I met John in college nearly eleven years ago. We were both mature students: so awkward amongst all those seventeen year olds who hung around the campus, so out of place and a little lost. It was no surprise that we were sort of drawn to each other. Within a week we were hanging out between classes, exchanging ideas and chatting and laughing at our misfortunes in the classroom, trying to cope with assignments, exams and giving out about lecturers. Life in college was good because he was there. We were inseparable in college and once we finished, we remained friends ever since.
John was the first Irish friend I made, he was my friend, not acquired from in laws, other half, or a friend of a family friend... he was my friend. When you live abroad, good friends become family. They're there for you when you need them, they make you laugh, they support you, they listen to you, they give out if you are acting up and hold you when you want to cry. He was a very good friend. Married to lovely Trish and ten years my senior, he became part of my family, a big brother who was always willing to listen and help. We would meet regularly and spent countless evenings chatting and drawing up mad business plans together. Our other halves would just roll their eyes every time a new idea would come up. He never got my name right, always called me 'Lila', although my name is Lilia. I never really cared, 'lila' (which means violet in Spanish) was ok with me.
One of the things I love about living in Ireland is the addition of Easter to my regular celebrations. In Mexico, Easter is a much more sombre time, you get a lot of Jesus movies on telly and the customary fish on Good Friday plus a plate of capirotada, which is a sort of bread pudding that suffers from a terrible curse: if people actually hear what goes in it, they wouldn't touch it, but believe you me: it truly is divine!
My mam makes a killer capirotada: problem is, as much as I love it, it is one of the few dishes I have failed miserably to reproduce with Irish ingredients only; so another year went by without capirotada in my life, but I keep the faith (and truth be told, I absolutely love chocolate Easter eggs!), which nicely brings me to the reason for my Easter Egg crisis: it is quite simple really, I totally forgot to buy any eggs for the family this year!
I know it sounds very dramatic, but truly, this is capital sin country in the Foran's household; you see, I married into a family who eats, breathes and dies for chocolate. The other half goes through about two kilos of chocolate related goodies a week (no exaggeration!). Forgetting to buy Easter eggs is no joking matter. I have been so busy lately at work that I slipped into a Mexican Easter mood and sort of forgot it was Easter! On top of that, the Forans are not the petrol-station-last-minute-chocolate-egg type, they put thought into buying them, they like a certain percentage of coco in them and organic preferably.
