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catriona o'sullivan

The Starbucketeers

The Starbucketeers

Onetallchocomochasoyextrashotvanillaskinnydoublefrappelattechinotogo. And hold the whip. And the ceremony begins. Speedy baristas steaming and whipping, banging and frothing in a self-important manner. My wallet sighs with relief. It is lighter by about five pound coins. That’s probably around five regular coffees from the substantially less...

Yeah that thing is a Pineapple

Yeah that thing is a Pineapple

Dutch people have a funny knack of being fantastically fluent in almost any language you happen to name. English? Yep. French? Of course. German? Well duh, it's easy for us Dutch people! Swedish? Yeah why not? Ancient Greek? Sure! Albanian? Naturally... But something that really struck me when I first came to the Netherlands is the confidence ...

Decisions

Decisions

Since I started this column I have been getting many suggestions from friends about what my next one should be about. Most of my friends wanted me to write a personal column about them – but I think that might be a little boring for the greater Maastricht University public. (No offense). Some suggested that I have a ‘Finnish student of...

Israeli Wine

Israeli Wine

This evening I was at one of my friends’ houses and we were having one of our regular ‘wine&chat’ sessions (which is usually more of a ‘wine&moan’ about [insert topic such as: studying/bureaucracy /Germans/money/bad 50cent coffee/ politics/lady gaga haters]). With the two smokers’ heads poking half-way o...

Milky-white legs

Milky-white legs

After last week's intrigue with finally seeing the new 'artist's impression' of me for the first Observant column – I spent some days trying to decide whether I looked 'cool and arty' or just a little bit like the crazy psycho witch from Snow White and the Huntsman. The jury is still out. On that note of vanity, all t...

Scary Sunday

Scary Sunday

The one thing that made the biggest impression when I first came to Maastricht was not the amount of bikes, nor the different language, not the sound of Dutch music or the smell of coffee shops around every corner. Oh no, these things were nothing in comparison to the sheer dilemma and trauma that ensued on my first Sunday in Maastricht. My belove...