Insurance against natural disasters?

The flights are finally booked, the hotels have been reviewed to death, my credit card bill has plenty of reading on it and I can almost smell the sun cream.

There is plenty of build up time between now and holidays to get excited, but there is also one small issue (or large depending on your outlook): travel insurance.

For some, travel insurance is a must, it is essential and is booked at the same time as flights are booked and hotels reviewed. And it makes sense of course, because things can go wrong and you could be left paying a whole load of money for that 'budget trip'.

But still I ponder.

If I was to take a short trip to the UK or Europe (under 5 days) there is no way I would take out travel insurance. I would think of insurance as a silly additional cost.

Flights are of course delayed – but only by a few hours usually and there are always plenty of flight options available. Medically as an EU citizen I know I will be treated without question. I don't have medical insurance at home – so why should I panic just because I am travelling?

I have of course taken out travel insurance for holidays before – because it make sense, it is a fail safe, a peace of mind – a fall back.

But when travelling to Cuba a few years ago I was told I would not be covered there. The trip went ahead successfully, with no problems.

Then last year I went on a cruise to Israel. It was only at the last minute I remembered travel insurance, I was sitting in the airport about to depart and it sparked with me. I consulted with my travel partner and we decided to go on ahead. Nothing bad happened. We enjoyed the trip. We didn't need travel insurance.

I know I have been lucky, I have never been stranded for days in an airport, left in hospital with serious injuries or had all my stuff stolen. I also know the other stories the scary ones about thousands of euro of legal fees, medial treatment.

Some insurance companies are now covering against natural disasters. But I feel like travel insurance is putting a downer on my hols:

Passport – check

Money – check

Suncream – check

Insurance in case my boyfriend dies in a horrible complicated accident – check

Is travel insurance essential. Pic: telegraph.co.uk

So travel insurance – is it really essential?

Surviving the Irish Summer

Ireland got a mini heat wave last week.

Clear skies, sunshine, warm air, dry grass, and sun burned chests – it was pure bliss.

Fiji
(c)fifiheavey

The fab weather caught me off guard, I hadn't converted my wardrobe from Winter to Summer.

(We don't get Spring in Ireland – we barely get a Summer)

So I had to push past the woolly jumpers, stretch in past boots, and shoulder Winter coats out of the way to be in reach of vest tops, flip flops and shorts.

Tropic of Capricorn, Western Australia
(c)fifiheavey

I was 100% sure I had suncream from last year, but it was no where to be found, so I had to give in and pay Summer prices for new suncream. An hour off early from work (to celebrate the sun) gave me the opportunity to smother in suncream, lay out on the freshly cut lawn and read my book. It was the most content I have felt in 2012.

For the first few days of sunshine no one dared speak about the sweat or the sunburn or the dying plants – but four days without rain started to drive some people mad.

I laughed at their silliness, I had endured 40c heat (104F) in Australia and survived, this 25c (77F) was a doddle.

But the fifth day of sunshine stopped me in my tracks. I was sneezing, not little lady 'achoooos' but big ones, ones that took over an hour to emerge, my eyes were running water faster than the River Shannon and I felt crap.

On top of the seasonal hay fever, I was so tired, like exhausted. Past 2pm in the day my eyes were squinting, I blinked for longer than is acceptable when holding a conversation and I drove like a maniac to get home and sit (looking out).

Hay fever season, Ireland
(c) fifiheavey

When I relayed this info to my partner, he laughed. “Go for a nap,” he advised.

“I don't do naps,” I replied, naps are for lazy people and I have so much to do.

“But you always took naps when we were away,” he recalls. But his recollection was in accurate.

Me sleep during the day, never!

Well in Thailand I did a little because I wasn't sleeping at night and I needed indoor shelter from the cruel sun. But not in Australia.

Cue himself reminding me “yeah but you went to bed super early and were not fit to walk after work.”

Oh, yeah ... maybe.

We spend the Winter storing up carbs to help us fight the cold, tucked into woolly socks and thermal underwear, staring out at the cold wind and the snow and frost dreaming of the sunshine and the light breeze.

But when it arrives, we stare outside soothing our sunburn in aloe vera, sniffing and snoozing, never hoping for rain or clouds (that would be a curse) but waiting for the 'break.'

At least the Summer tunes are good ... and beer gardens have shade!

Summer grazing, Ireland
(c)fifiheavey

"Bully Day" - The Irish Weather

Rain, hail, sleet, wind, snow, frost, sunshine, heatwave, humidity – all get the same treatment by my father, he calls it a “bully day.”

His tone changes from happiness on a nice day to slightly angry on a bad one, but the words stay the same, the weather is described as “bully.” Take it or leave it – read into it what you will that is the way it is.

Sunlight behind rain clouds over Garadice Lake, Co Leitrim

The Irish weather is a worldwide phenomena. Not because it is particularly bad, or extremely changeable, or frustratingly unpredictable or down right mean (because it is all this) but because it is so much more.

The weather is a conversation starter with strangers, a meaningful exchange with friends, an everyday (if not every hour) occurrence and it is always acceptable to talk about it – anywhere, any time. Us Irish are emotionally attached to the weather, we are fascinated by it. And it is something that transcends gender, age and class.

“Did you hear the forecast?” is a question heard about one hundred times a day, people walk into a room and announce “it's windy out there,” “God that is awful rain,” or once every five years “it is beautiful out there!”

Those who visit the country are always amused by how much we talk about the weather, the girl at the supermarket check out will comment as she scans your items, the bus man will usually make a declaration on your entry or exit and the bar person is well conversed in all things weather related.

And yet despite the fact the weather forecast is consulted two – three times a day, and we have discussed at length today, tomorrow and the weekend's weather we always look unprepared.

Tourists clad in rain jackets to their ankles, wearing woolly jumpers and heavy boots stare in disbelief as Irish people run through puddles and torrential rain in a teeshirt, jeans and flip flops to get to the shop in the middle of November!

Again this year the Irish people endured a pathetic Summer, and if we are to believe the forecasters (by the way we usually don't – hence the need for such discussion) then we are in for another crazy winter.

Another addition to the Irish weather phenomena is that we are never organised for 'extreme' weather. Over two weeks of sunshine will result in concerns over water shortages, two weeks of non stop rain will flood the country and the whole island comes to a stand still with frost and snow! Imagine what would happen if we got some real 'extreme' weather?!

Fresh snow in Tullyveela, Corlough, Co Cavan

Putting aside my severe Vitamin D deficiency, my loathing for days of rain and the amount of cursing I do over frost, I actually quite like the Irish Weather.

Actually maybe 'like' is a bit strong!

I am pale with freckles – so a lot of sun is not my friend, I love the wind and I also love the snow (aside from driving in it). A long Summer evening is perfect in Ireland.

We sometimes forget that the large amount of rain in Ireland contributes to the vivid green colour of our country side, and the sweetness of the grass leads to world renowned meat produce.

Rainbows dominate our skies, starry nights are dream like and morning mists are haunting.

Our handsome dog Wally enjoying a colourful Autumn in Ballinamore, Co Leitrim

If it were not for our attitude weather – what would we have to complain about?!

Jellyfish salad - my revenge

It came into conversation a few weeks back, I hate Jellyfish, they have ruined my life and I need to extract revenge on them – they must die.

My sentiments are not unwarranted, I have good reason to feel this way about those 'things', I have actually been suppressing my feelings for years now.

Revenge is a harmful action against a person or group (or jellyfish) in response to a grievance, be it real or perceived.

The story:

At the very innocent age of seven, when all things were magical and beautiful and what my parents said was gospel, I went on a family holiday to Bundoran, Co Donegal.

It was all going swimmingly until I went swimming at Rossnowlagh Beach. It was a glorious day, in the days when the Sun visited Ireland during the Summer, I had a spade and a shovel and life was grand.

Into the water I splashed. “Look at me” I cheered to my adoring parents.

Step, jump, up and down I bobbed on the small waves.

Then “squish” down went my tiny little foot onto an evil, dangerous and spiteful jellyfish. I didn't mean to touch it, I just wanted to play, I didn't even see it. But the jellyfish didn't care.

The sting ran up my foot, the pain was something I had never experienced before.

The stinging cells are triggered by an object touching a microscopic hair. This hair triggers the cell to squeeze violently, ejecting a hollow thread that penetrates the victim's skin and injects poison.

My father came rushing over, tears streamed down my face. I felt sick, I got sick and still the pain echoed through me.

“Why me” I would have pondered if I wasn't too busy screaming in pain.

It eased after a few hours, but the scar stayed with me forever. That evening I discovered a hearty appetite (yep I blame the jellyfish) because before then food was a disruption to my busy playful life.

And as a result of this fine appetite I have grown accustomed to, comes my idea for sweet revenge. 

Because “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

How to cook jellyfish:

For cooking jellyfish you have to first soak the jellyfish overnight in the refrigerator. The best way to cut the jellyfish is to roll up the flesh and slice it, so that you get thin julienne strips. These strips are then to be blanched. The blanching can be repeated one more time (it is sooo evil), after which you drain off all the water.

Now you can marinate these pieces with the seasoning of your choice, like vinegar, salt, spices and so on, and then add them to salads, or vegetables or other sea-food dishes. After mixing the seasoning the marinating process should be done in the refrigerator. Usually the juices which collect after marinating, are to be discarded as they might have harmful bacteria.
Recipes include: Jellyfish sushi, burgers, stew, salad, satay and stir fry.

Satay Jellyfish - www.rasamalazia.com

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