Playing Catch-up (Part XIII)

Today after class I printed out my final paper, and now I'm a presentation away from being free! I also have to finish editing the ridiculous movie I'm making for my presentation, but that's just plain fun. This morning five students gave their presentations, and then three of them left. Two have to return to Carleton because they're athletes and have preseason training now, and one is spending a few days in London with her parents before going to Sri Lanka for the fall. But the rest of us have to wait until Friday (or in Bonnie's and my case, next Monday) to go home. Ian left for college yesterday (!) and needless to say, I feel very bad that I couldn't be there to see him off. Oh well - c'est la vie, I guess.

I forgot to relate a rather amusing anecdote about dear Elms Village. After Peter Collins briefed us about our stay in Belfast, we all kind of congregated in the kitchen and began wondering what on earth we were going to do for the remainder of the day. Then a loud alarm suddenly went off, and we realized it was the fire alarm. Being the dutiful and well-trained students we are, we all filed outside and wondered what was up. One guy said he'd opened a door and that the alarm had immediately started, so we all decided to place the blame on him. The alarm kept ringing until a security man ambled his way over to us and entered the building. A few moments later he came out and asked who was staying in room 103. There was a moment of confusion before I remember that I, in fact, am staying in room 103. I cautiously raised my hand, and he asked if I'd sprayed anything in the room because the smoke detector had gone off in my room. I explained that, no, I hadn't had TIME to spray anything even if I'd wanted to because I'd been in my room for all of five minutes, and anyway it smelled horribly like smoke when I entered but I personally do NOT smoke so that smell certainly did not emanate from anything that *I* did; I'd only opened a window to help clear it out. He nodded and ambled off again. Of course, jokes about me smoking various substances were made and we all had a good laugh. The end.

Back to where I last ended... umm. I think that class just sort of continued as usual. We also spent lots of time in the Queens library doing research, oh, and we had two authors visit and speak to our class, which was awesome. Both Ciaran Carson and Glenn Patterson spent time reading their works, talking to us, and answering questions, and it was really neat to hear from them. We also spent our time complaining about Elms Village problems, like the two or three days in which we had absolutely no hot water. Some people braved the cold while others opted out of showering at all. That made for a very smelly day trip last Tuesday, let me tell you.

On Tuesday we visited the city of, depending on who's talking about it, either Derry or Londonderry. Republicans will vandalize signs labeled "Londonderry" by crossing out "London" and leaving simply "Derry," and some Loyalists have taken to responding by crossing out the "Derry," which is very silly. Anyway, Derry (you can see where my sympathies lie) played host to a great deal of sectarian violence during the Troubles, and the murals there reflect that. Bloody Sunday took place in Derry, so lots of the murals depict those killed on that day. Peter Collins gave us all a walking tour of the city, which still contains portions of the old wall that used to surround it. We visited the city hall and then spontaneously entered this free museum run by the Apprentice Boys. It was, in a word, strange. Basically, the Apprentice Boys of Derry are a "Protestant fraternal society" named after a group of - yes, you guessed it - apprentices to various trades who barricaded Derry and refused to let King James' invading army in; they shut the gate and shouted "No surrender!" The group nowadays has many parades and celebrations; the burn an effigy of Lundy (the governor who'd wanted to negotiate) every December because they view him as a traitor. Anyway, this hall also had a room where the Orange Order meets, even though the middle-aged man who was showing us around was careful to continually point out that the Apprentice Boys are in no way affiliated with the Orange Order. There was also another room with a very strange collection of artifacts from around the world; some other group meets there, apparently. It was very strange!

Afterwards, we visited the Grianan, a very old ring fort that's been reconstructed. Grianan features prominently in "Shamrock Tea," the book by Ciaran Carson that we'd recently read, but unfortunately it was sort of being fixed up and it was raining and we didn't stay for too long. Then we met up with one of Connie's friends who lives in a nearby town; she has a son in our year at Carleton and one who graduated in 2006. Her archaeologist friend took us to a very old sort of stone circle and gave us her take on it, showed us an old cathedral, and then we all headed to Connie's friend's house (which was, by the way, really lovely) to get out of the rain and have tea! The local church ladies had made roughly 15 dozen small sandwiches, so we all stuffed ourselves with those, and then there were dozens and dozens of cakes and cookies and tarts and treats, so by the time we left to return home, we were all completely sated. It was one of my classmates' birthdays, so there was also a cake for her, which was quite kind.

Sooo the next evening we all went to see a one-man play called "A Night in November." The actor who was performing is actually a stand-up comedian, and apparently there've been rumors about some problems with cocaine, and Peter Collins remarked that perhaps "his career is taking a NOSEdive." Har har har. Anyway, the play was verrry provocative in that it attempted to capture what it's like to be a Protestant male in Belfast who suddenly becomes completely disgusted with the prejudice against Catholics and tries to come to terms with who he is and where he comes from. The idea is intriguing, but the play relied on a completely oversimplified stereotypes of Catholics and Protestants and didn't really go beyond those stereotypes to say anything truly significant. The female characters were completely one-dimensional (even more so than the males, who admittedly weren't very well developed) and all seemed to be paper-thin stereotypes of one sort or another. Even the actor, when playing those female parts, fell back on the same exact body language for every single woman. It was definitely a play worth seeing, and it was very funny at some points, but I'm not sure how successful it was. It was also alarming when the audience laughed at some jokes that were overtly racist - we Carleton kids are always so concerned with being "politically correct" that stuff like this just jumps right out at us when we see it.

Playing Catch-up (Part XII)

Now that I've only got a little more than a week left in Ireland, I'm finally going to catch up on this blog. I wish I'd been able to update it more diligently, because then there would've been shorter entries, but they would've been more detailed. Unfortunately I got behind from the very beginning since we didn't have internet access and I just haven't been able to catch up. Plus, I kept that journal for Connie, so I was writing about everything in there as well as trying to keep this up to date. Ah well; no use lamenting that now, I guess.

So anyway, we left Sligo on Saturday morning and headed up to, at long last, Belfast! The bus ride was somewhere around 3 or 3.5 hours but my memory of it is rather hazy and anyway I'd rather NOT remember it because what I DO remember involves a boy and his feet, which smelled up the entire bus with their dirty disgustingness. The odor offended my delicate nasal sensibilities and I did not appreciate that. But we arrived in Belfast in the early evening, and, as usual, things were not what they appeared to be. We are staying at Elms Village, a residential portion of Queens University Belfast. Elms Village is comprised of a bunch of sylvan-sounding "streets" (Rowan Grove, Oak Avenue, HollySycamoreYewWillowGiantRedwood Street) which have rather attractive (fake) red brick three-level dorm buildings that look more like small flats. Unfortunately, appearances can be deceiving and the inside of Oak 4, our building, was sadly much less lovely than the outside. We met up with Peter Collins here - he's our Belfast liaison - and first we had to drag our luggage across some grass because the walkway was under construction, and then he handed out randomly assigned room keys, and then we found out that there was no lift for those of us on the 1st floor (equivalent to the second floor in U.S. terms.) Of course, I was on the 1st floor so I had a fabulous time dragging my suitcase upstairs. I switched rooms with a kindly boy so that I could have a room near Esther, and then the moment of truth arrived - I put my key card into the slot on the door, waited for the green light with bated breath, opened it, and gazed into what would be my home for the next threeish weeks...

...and I saw, to my horror, a small jail cell waiting for me. I took a step in and discovered that although a public smoking ban was enacted in Northern Ireland this past April, the last occupant of my room had clearly decided that it didn't apply to him/her and had puffed away merrily. My room had - actually, still has - the distinct odor of a cheap motel room - stale cigarette smoke and other unsavory odors. The floor, which is carpeted in a nasty shade of brown with small blue spots, is covered in stains of various shapes, sizes, and colors. The long blue curtains on the window displays a matching set of stains, much to my horror. The walls are made of those white painted large cement bricks. There's an open closet type thing, a low bed (supremely uncomfortable; I feel every spring when I move) and, to complete the jail feeling, a small sink on the wall. All I need is a chamberpot and a slot in the door for my meals and I'm set.

Seriously, though, we were all rather disillusioned by this place. If I were a college kid with housing here, I'd probably not last the year... the building is dirty and depressing and uncomfortable. We have 10 people to a floor, with 2 showers, 2 toilets, and a (dirty) kitchen. Upon checking out our floor kitchen we discovered food that had been left in the refrigerator for God knows how long and was emitting yet another in the long series of foul odors we'd encountered that day. The kitchen does have a TV, a table, benches, and some (ripped up, dirty) chairs as well. The TV only gets 3 channels, but it's still something to do.

Anyway, after getting briefed by Peter about the program in Belfast, Bonnie, Esther, and I headed out to Tesco to stock up on groceries. Eventually we discovered that Peter's directions were faulty when we didn't encounter the store after a 35 minute walk. Eventually we asked some kindly ladies for help and were instantly met with an example of Belfast friendliness and hospitality as they eagerly showed us the right direction - "Just down this road, luv, it's a bit of a walk for me but then I'm not as young as you are" - patted us on the shoulders, and wished us good luck and that we'd find good food. Eventually we made it and discovered that it's only a 10-15 minute walk from Elms Village. Okaaay.

So that night and all of Sunday dragged on foreverrrrr, mainly because our internet connection wasn't working and it was pouring out so nobody felt inclined to explore the city (which is, by the way, a 45 minute walk away and we weren't given bus passes here, nor is there a stop very close by.) Everybody was mopy and we all just shook our heads at one another in mutual discomfort. This point, I think, may've been a key one in our shared group bonding experience.

Finally Monday arrived and we all headed to class at Queens. The building is a 20ish minute walk away, but instead of being a long walk through an ugly campus like at UCD, we get to walk down Malone Road, which is kind of on the fringe of the city itself. If you've never seen a picture of the QUB main building, the Lanyon Building, I suggest you Google it because it's really beautiful. Of course, our class is held in the new and uglier building BEHIND Lanyon, but still - it feels really cool to walk through the Lanyon Building on our way to class.

So in Belfast we had class three days a week, with day trips mixed in. Connie organized the program so that we read authors who wrote about/of/in the cities in which we were currently staying, so the Belfast curriculum included Seamus Heaney, Ciaran Carson, Seamus Deane, Glenn Patterson, and other Northern Irish writers. I'd read Heaney and Deane in my Irish Lit class in the spring, but being in Belfast while reading them totally changed my understanding of their works as I became familiar with Belfast's politics, past and present.

Our first trip was a coach tour of Belfast's murals and then Stormont. I'm sure that you've all seen pictures of the murals, because at this point in time they're Belfast's biggest tourist attraction, for better or worse. We drove down the Falls Road first, which is the Catholic section of West Belfast. Peter showed us the International Wall, which is a series of murals dealing with events outside of Ireland. There were quite a few anti-Bush/anti-Iraq war murals, some Israel-Palestine themed ones, and one showing support for the Basque separatist movement, which was especially interesting for Bonnie and I since we'd spent 4 days in the Basque country with Tamara's family. Many of these murals were works in progress. Other murals in the Falls Road area depicted Republican themes and could be associated with Sinn Fein and occasionally the IRA. The strangely surreal thing about these murals is that they're often painted on the gabled sides of row houses, so you'll see this row of decent looking houses and then turn the corner and see a masked man holding up a rifle staring down at you. It's a reminder of how sectarian Belfast was (duh) and actually still is - there's a huge wall, taller than the Berlin Wall ever was (I can attest to that as I saw its remains in Berlin over spring break), that separates the Catholic from the Protestant neighborhoods.

The main Protestant area is the Shankill Road area, and, as you might expect, the murals there are largely Loyalist/Unionist in nature. Some motifs include lions & unicorns, the Battle of the Boyne, Oliver Cromwell, and the Red Hand of Ulster. It's really hard to describe the murals like this, so I suppose that you'll all just have to see my pictures to understand what I'm talking about. I will say that it felt really strange to be driving through neighborhoods and occasionally getting out so that Peter could tell us about the murals and history in the area, especially when he told us about how he'd been standing with a group of students talking about some Loyalist murals one day and telling the story of a particular paramilitary man who used some nasty means of killing Catholics when he noticed two taxi drivers listening with great interest to the way in which he was spinning his tale. He said he got out of there fast, since taxi drivers are notoriously known as being "reformed" paramilitaries. A number of us felt uncomfortable during this portion of the tour because it was such a touristy thing to do; Peter would have the coach driver take us through purely residential neighborhoods so he could talk about what had happened in those areas during the heyday of the Troubles. It just felt like we were disturbing these people's lives as they were probably trying to move on from that part of their past.

After we'd seen a large amount of murals, we drove through Belfast's seaport area. There are two large yellow cranes which are permanent landmarks of the city, despite being rather an eyesore. The new plan for Belfast is to re-imagine it as the home of the Titanic, since it was built in Belfast, and to design a new "Titanic quarter" which is supposed to be a big tourist attraction in years to come. People we've talked to on this matter seem skeptical about its future success, but it's interesting to see how Belfast is trying to reinvent itself in the eyes of tourists.

Then we headed to Stormont, Northern Ireland's parliament building where the Assembly sits. We were given a tour and then met up with Micky Brady, a Sinn Fein representative from Newry and Armagh. He talked to us about the current state of politics, Sinn Fein's position, and the like, and then some of us asked questions. That Sinn Fein is working alongside members of the DUP in parliament is a major step towards peace, and Micky Brady seemed very optimistic about the future of these inter-party relations.

That night, a few of us walked for 2 hours along the Falls Road to go see The Commitments, which was being shown outdoors as part of Belfast's August Feile, or festival. We'd bought tickets in the city centre that afternoon and had gotten to see the city a bit, which was nice. But we arrived in Belfast right at the beginning of the Feile, which provided us with many things to do - some kids went to concerts, etc. Anyway, the walk back after the movie had ended at midnight was not so nice, however. But we booked it back and made it to Elms Village in an hour and a half. Interestingly, the Basque separatist mural I mentioned earlier, which we'd seen earlier in the day, had clearly been painted at some point during the evening because it was actually completed when we were walking to the movie and it had only been partially painted in the morning/afternoon.

So the next day we had class, and then at night I walked down the Falls Road yet AGAIN to St. Mary's University because there was another Feile event being held there, this time an international fair. I was a bit disappointed; although there was relatively inexpensive food, there were only a few overpriced craft booths. Making purchases in Belfast is a killer because they obviously use the pound here, as opposed to the Republic of Ireland's euro, and the exchange rate for the pound is utter crap.

Afterwards we walked down to another school to meet up with the rest of the group to attend another Feile event, West Belfast Talks Back. This was arguably one of the most interesting things we did/saw in Belfast. It was basically a debate between West Belfast politicians. There was a woman from Sinn Fein, a member of the DUP, the current police commissioner, and this older male journalist who said whatever the hell he wanted when he wanted. The audience was mainly Republican, which was apparent in the way they seemed to show most support for Sinn Fein (I hate to be patronizing, but please remember that the term "Republican" in Northern Ireland/Ireland refers to left-leaning people who support the formation of a full Republic of Ireland by having Northern Ireland "break free" from the U.K., to put it in its simplest terms.) Although Peter said that this year's debate was nowhere near as heated as it had been in the past, we were still all a little shocked at the nature of some of the audience's questions. One main theme of questioning was about the possibility of a Truth Commission to explore collusion as well as British soldiers' culpability in a number of murders during the Troubles. The DUP rep and the police commissioner both seemed in favor of letting the issue go (even though there are roughly 1800 "unsolved" murders) while Sinn Fein supports the creation of a Truth Commission so that the families of those killed can have some sort of closure. All in all, the debate was absolutely riveting and really opened our eyes to how, even though there's a peace agreement and even though Ian Paisley and Martin McGuinness are working together these days, nobody's anywhere close to forgetting what West Belfast and Belfast as a whole has been through. As a side note, I have to say that hearing one grizzled older man shout, "I'm a proud IRA man!" and having the DUP member respond with "And I'm a proud Orangeman!" was just really, really disconcerting.

Okay - I have written WAY too much already, and there's more to come, but I'll stop for now. I apologize for the length, but Belfast is a fascinating place. When I'm home I'm sure that I'll end up talking about it much more, too.

Playing Catch-up (Part XI)

I really, really ought to be in bed right now. We have an all-day trip tomorrow and we're leaving at 8:30 sharp, but unfortunately I don't feel tired and haven't been falling asleep easily lately anyway. So that's a bit of a problem.

Today I FINALLY got my replacement laptop charger! Mine died during the second week of the program, so I mailed it back home, Dad sent it back to Apple, they sent him a new one, and he and Mom mailed it to me along with some mail and a duffel bag for all my new purchases (although there aren't many, honestly; I'm just worried about exceeding the baggage weight limit and having to pay an astronomical fee, which would just about do me in.) So I'm basically super happy that I don't have to borrow Esther's charger all the time.

Anyway, I left off with our rainy return to Dublin. I meant to mention that when we were in Madrid, we continually saw people using sign language because apparently the World Federation of the Deaf was having a huge conference in the city. We first noticed it on the metro from the airport to the city centre, and then we just kept seeing people sign. I wish I knew more/any sign language so that I would've been able to see how different their signs were. Also, here in Belfast we have a TV with, get ready for this, THREE whole channels, and I've seen a news program in which a speaking woman reads the news while her counterpart interprets/signs it. I thought that that was pretty cool. I did notice that the sign for 'man' was the same... woohoo.

So we had one more day in Dublin before we left the city for good. Bonnie and I did some last minute shopping in the city centre and said goodbye to our old haunts. The next morning, Saturday, we took a coach into Sligo. The ride wasn't all that long, but we had a rather small coach and we were all concerned with whether or not everybody's luggage would fit in the undercarriage - it was a bit touch and go for a while, but Seamus, our trusty driver, managed to maneuver everything in very skilfully.

In Sligo we were housed in Yeats Village, in houses of about 6 people. Bonnie and I shared a room and the others in our house had singles. These houses had kitchens and living rooms with comfy couches and A TELEVISION WITH 15 WHOLE CHANNELS! Needless to say, we spent many hours enjoying this novelty. It was also really good to have a TV when we heard about the bridge collapse in Minneapolis, since we had no internet or phone access, really, and we were all really worried, obviously, because Carleton is quite close to the Cities and we all know people who live nearby. Thankfully, everyone we know is fine.

We chilled on Saturday and on Sunday attended the opening ceremony type thing for the Yeats Summer School and then took a coach tour of the Sligo area. If you know anything about W.B. Yeats, you know that he drew much inspiration from Sligo; in fact, it's known locally as Yeats Country. On the tour we saw, from afar "bare Ben Bulben" as well as a lovely valley and then then walked up to a beautiful waterfall. The weather at this point was really interesting - to me, it felt like mid-October, very crisp and cool and generally autumnal. For some reason it reminded me of the autumns of my childhood and I found myself wanting to go apple picking and make applesauce with Mom and even, gasp, go to school. It was kind of odd. Anyway, afterwards we made the requisite pilgrimage to Yeats' grave and saw his headstone, carved with the epitaph he wrote for himself:

Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death
Horseman, pass by!

He's buried by a church, and we were invited in for an evensong service in honour of Yeats and the summer school itself. This was a Church of Ireland service, and it was just so odd... there was a woman preacher who spoke about praising flowers and grass and rain and then this Jesuit priest (?) gave a sermon about Yeats. It was rather disconcerting to the Catholics among our group.

That night we had a dinner reception at the Arts Center, which was about a 15 minute walk away from Yeats Village (our classes were 20 minutes away, and the morning lectures about 25 minutes away.) Then we chilled out and prepared for a week of INTENSE YEATS STUDIES!

Basically, the week went something like this: There were two lectures every morning at 9:30 and 11:00, given by scholars of various academic prowess. The great critic Helen Vendler was clearly the biggest name there; Connie adores and reveres her and just loved her lecture. We had free afternoons and then had our seminars from 4:30 - 6:00. We'd all chosen a seminar from a list we'd been given in March. I was in Maureen Murphy's "Yeats and Folklore" class with two other girls from my program. Honestly, I'm not a huge Yeats fan, but I do like Irish folklore, so I was trying to be optimistic about this. But Maureen was the type of professor who really liked to hear herself speak, and although the students separated into groups to "present" a particular play/story/tale/poem each class, ostensibly so that we wouldn't hear her "talk at us" for an hour and a half, she'd continually interrupt for some tangential digression she just had to say. It was a mite annoying.

So we passed those five days in that manner. There were also quite a few poetry readings; I really enjoyed one given by Richard Murphy. I hadn't been familiar with his work at all, but he was very charismatic and engaging and charming, especially for an 80-year-old man, and I liked the work he read, too. I'd love to get a book of his poetry at some point.

Also, during the week Connie's family was visiting, and while her husband and son took an intense bike tour of the country, her 11-year-old daughter hung out with us. Being the children of two Carleton professors, you can only imagine how intelligent she and her brother are. I enjoyed talking to her; she definitely seemed much more mature than the average 11-year-old!

During our time in Sligo, I think that all of the tight-knit groups among the larger group began to kind of fray around the edges because we'd all been living in very particular groups for so long and spending so much time with the same people. So on the last night, I went out with three girls I don't usually hang out with and we all had a whole lot of fun and loved spending time with different people. That ended up being a precursor to the Belfast experience, which I'll detail in my next entry. :)

Playing Catch-up (Part X)

So, after about fifteen minutes of wandering around the bus station looking for Tamara, I suddenly spotted a very familiar face walking towards me. I gave her a hug, and then she introduced me to her parents, who gave both Bonnie and I the traditional European kiss-on-both-cheeks greeting. Then we got in their car and drove to their flat, which was about 15 minutes from the city centre in a largely residential neighborhood. I was really surprised at the spaciousness of their flat; they have a small kitchen/dining area, a decent sized living room with another dining table, a master bedroom with its own bathroom, Tamara’s bedroom, a guest bedroom with two beds, and another bathroom. There was construction going on outside their building, so their computer, which is usually located in a sort of porch area, was moved into the living room. After Bonnie and I had made ourselves at home in the guest bedroom (which was adorable; the two brass beds had white lace covers all decorated with pink ribbons), Tamara’s mum made us dinner, which I think was oven pizza and yogurt and fruit. Afterwards, we just sort of chilled and watched Spanish music videos, which are, by the way, highly amusing. That was pretty much our nightly routine for the remainder of our stay.

The next day, we awoke refreshed and Tamara’s mum had breakfast ready for us – croissants, jam, butter, fruit, yogurt, juice, and a pot of warm milk on the stove for our Coca Cao, which is basically a hot chocolate mix that Tamara says she drinks every morning. It was so weird being fed like that; we’re used to fending for ourselves and making rather sparse meals, so this week was really wonderful in that respect. Afterwards, we took the metro into the city and went to the imposing-looking Guggenheim. First we spent fifteen minutes walking around it and marveling at the bizarre architecture and the weird animal sculptures outside (a dog made of flowers, a huge, spindly metal spider) and then went in. Kindly, Tamara’s mum had given her money to pay for all of us, which was really nice. We saw all the exhibits, which ranged from huge metal labyrinthine, snakelike sculptures to beds made out of lead to huge LCD panels with words written on them. I’m no big fan of modern art, but it was definitely worth seeing all this, and I did see a few things I could stomach.

Afterwards, we basked outside on park benches in the sun, and Bonnie and Tamara laughed at me as I kept nodding off and my head kept jerking back upwards. Finally we returned to her flat for lunch, again waiting for us courtesy of her mum. Then we took a little siesta before getting into the car so that Tamara’s parents could show us some sights we wouldn’t have known about otherwise. First we went to the Puente Colgante, or the Hanging Bridge, so called because it now has this hanging sort of ferry which brings cars across the river every five minutes or so. The bridge itself is really old, and REALLY high. We took an elevator up and then walked across. From that high, the view of Bilbao and its surrounding mountains was just amazing. The river stretched out on either side of us, and in front were the red roofs of the many buildings in the older part of the city. Tamara’s dad took copious pictures of all of us at various points on the bridge, and gave us mini history lessons that were just comprehensible. Then we took an elevator down and after a short boat ride across the river, we were back by the car. Then we walked down the river bank and looked at one of the beaches there, and her dad showed us a historical monument, and then we packed into the car and drove to another beach further away that Tamara frequently visits. We walked around for a bit, then drove to another point on a hillside from which you could see the entirety of Bilbao. After snapping multiple pictures, we headed back to the house for a delicious dinner.

On Tuesday, we drove with her parents to a seaside village that had been a major fishing port for quite some time. After resolving some parking difficulties, Tamara’s dad eagerly took us to a fishing museum housed in this strange, hexagonally-shaped building. It was quite comprehensive and had many artifacts and diagrams and informational placards. I learned about the history of whaling in Bilbao and just how important the sea had been to its early economy. Afterwards, we walked around a bit and then drove to a pretty lighthouse spot to eat sandwiches. Then, as the weather had cleared up, us three girls were left off at a beautiful beach around 3:00. We spent about three hours there, enjoying the waves (the water was slightly warmer than the beach water at home usually is), getting sunburnt, and generally forgetting about the gloom of Ireland’s weather. Tamara’s parents came back for us around 6:00, and then we drove to this sort of rocky island-type deal with an old church at the peak. We parked the car, ate more sandwiches, and then had to climb 200+ steps across a series of huge rocky-cliff type things up the hill. After climbing Croagh Patrick, this was nothing, and the view from the top – of blue sea stretching out on three sides, with the beach we’d been at in the distance, and the hills behind us – was quite rewarding. At that point, I was in dire need of a bathroom break, but after seeing that the W.C. in the church was actually nothing more than a plastic chute in the rocks with a roll of toilet paper, I decided to wait a bit longer.

The next day, Tamara took us on a walking tour through Casco Viejo, the older part of Bilbao, which was really pretty. We then went to the Museo de Bellas Artes, which housed much more traditional artwork than the Guggenheim. In the evening, we met up with Maite (the homestay student my parents hosted this summer while I was in Ireland) and her family. That was, in a word, awkward. In fact, it was pretty much the epitome of awkwardness. I couldn’t really understand her parents, Maite wouldn’t say much, Bonnie didn’t know what to do, so Tamara was forced to make conversation. First we had a tart and some grape juice, then we went to the park to take pictures, and then we got a drink, and then we just kept walking around. It was supremely uncomfortable, which was unfortunate because it would’ve been nice to talk to them. But eventually we were driven home by Maite’s dad, and then Tamara’s parents made us my favorite meal of the trip – a tortilla Española, which is an omelette. This one had potatoes and egg and maybe onion, and I don’t know what it was about it, but it was probably the best thing I’ve eaten all summer. It was kind of sweet but just really delicious. I should say that Tamara’s parents were very accommodating to my vegetarianism, even though they were shocked that I don’t eat fish – that’s Bilbao’s big gastronomic draw. Her mum made various cold salads (pasta, potato, rice) and there was always fresh fruit (delicious white peaches), and Bonnie was fed lots of different types of fish and such. That night, since Bonnie had expressed a desire to have her hair cut (her hair was butt-length), Tamara’s mum took charge of the operation and chopped quite a bit off. That was really funny; Bonnie couldn’t understand her at all and she kept wanting to cut more and more off and Tamara had to force her not to do so. I took lots of pictures of the endeavor, and afterwards, Bonnie was very pleased (if slightly shocked) with her shorter hair.

The next day was Thursday, our last day in Bilbao. In the morning, we walked to the city’s main cathedral and looked around, and then went to a mall so that Bonnie could buy earrings for her mum. After sitting in a park for a bit, we headed back to the flat and ate our last homecooked meal. Tamara’s mum had made a yellow-orange soup that looked rather strange, but was quite good; it was mostly carrot and potato, we were told. Then Tamara’s dad drove us to the airport, which is about as big as T.F. Green but is MUCH prettier. Our flight had been delayed, so they stuck around for a bit but eventually we had to say goodbye, which was, of course, rather sad. As the plan ascended into the air from Bilbao, Bonnie and I knew that this was the last time we’d see beautiful sunny skies and feel warm for a long time. Seriously. I’m not being dramatic – we landed in grey Dublin, had to take two buses back, and as we stepped off the final bus at UCD, it just downpoured on us. Sigh. Thus ended our adventures in Spain.

Playing Catch-up (Part IX)

So right now I'm really happy. I bought disinfecting wipes and cleaned various surfaces in this squalid dorm in which we're being forced to reside, and I feel much more comfortable knowing that at least some things are moderately clean. Now, if only the water would stay hot...

Right, so, I left off on Bonnie's and my departure for España. We had a 2:20ish PM flight on Friday, but had to leave majorly early because UCD was nowhere near the airport. Basically we had to take the bus into the city centre, then take another bus (Airlink) to the airport. Of course, it was foggy and raining and our flight ended up being delayed an hour, so we had to sit in this gross section of the Dublin airport and read crappy airline magazines along with 3 other kids from the program who were also going to Spain on the same RyanAir flight. But eventually we made it on the plane and soon landed safely in Madrid! Words cannot express how very happy I was to see SUNSHINE out of the small window as we touched down. I could practically see the heat radiating off the city and my joy was barely able to be contained. But it was a little while until we actually breathed fresh air, since we had to take the metro from the airport into the city, which took about 30 minutes. But eventually we got out, and I was hit with a wonderfully welcome blast of real summer heat. It was amazing.

Bonnie and I ended up wandering around the area near the Plaza del Sol for quite a while because we couldn't find the tiny street on which our hostel was located. Eventually we caved and purchased a huge Michelin street map of the city from a nearby bookstore, so we finally reached our hostel around 9:00 PM or something. Our hostel, which was relatively inexpensive (30ish Euro per night for a room with a double bed), had THE BEST location - right next to the Plaza Mayor. It was FABULOUS. It was also clean and homey, which we really appreciated. As we freshened up, we heard beautiful choral singing coming from somewhere down the street; some group was practicing and it was just lovely. We tried to see who it was from our window, but failed, so we just heard these invisible singers. :)

Eventually we journeyed out into the warm night air and saw that the city just comes alive at night. Parents, kids, teens, elderly folk - everybody just gathers at the Plaza Mayor and eats a late dinner. We wandered through and politely declined waiters who tried to give us menus and then walked down random streets, enjoying the atmosphere. We passed a number of bookstores that were closed, which made me really disappointed - this was the night of the 20th, and the final Harry Potter book was being released at midnight. But then we saw a small group of people, some in cloaks, queueing (yeah, that's spelled correctly) outside a bookstore that was closed. I got really excited, especially as I saw a sign taped to the door. My Spanish skills didn't fail me as I learned that the store would reopen from midnight until dawn for the release of the book! Madly and wildly excited, Bonnie and I decided to grab a quick bite to eat before going back to the hostel to change. We found a cheap falafel place, went back, and she put on her fuzzy ears (don't ask) and I donned my Gryffindor tank top and a black skirt. Then we rushed back to the store just after midnight to learn that the book wouldn't be available until 1:01 AM, to correspond with 12:01 AM London-time. The store was decked out with brooms hanging from the ceilings, and there were games and lots and lots of journalists and reporters and camerapeople. We were occasionally approached to talk but our faulty Spanish didn't really work. There was also a super jumpy security guard stationed by a stand of books draped in black, which we later realized had been the hiding place of a whole stack of Death Hallows books. Anyway, eventually the time ticked away and after a big countdown, a huge cheer went up, confetti rained down, the curtain agains the wall was ripped down, and a huge mass of people surged towards the wall to grab the books on the wall shelves. It was absolute chaotic madness, unlike the orderly system employed in the US. People were nearly trampled in the mad rush; I could barely squeeze through and despaired of ever getting a copy. Luckily, this kind girl started handing out copies to the crowd, who all then surged towards the two cash registers. Needless to say, it took 45 minutes before I paid for my copy, left, and returned to the hostel.

I read a bit that night but decided not to burn through it and to savor the last book... sigh. Plus, we were in Spain! After a decent night's rest (although the continual city sounds right outside our window made it a little difficult to fall asleep,) we awoke, refreshed, and headed out into the city. We decided to find the bus station on Avenida de America, because we had to take the night bus that evening to Bilbao and wanted to estimate how long it'd take us to get there. With the aid of our Michelin map, we realized that it was about a 1.5 hour walk and that we'd better just take the metro that night. But we did get to see lots of the city along our walk, including many beautiful fountains, churches, and buildings in general. Afterwards, we took the metro back to the city centre and walked to the Prado. The museum is gigantic, but we saw a good portion of it - lots of Goya and Velazquez and El Greco and also lots of Italian works. We stayed for about an hour and a half, and then sat on a park bench outside the museum. Bonnie napped and I read Harry Potter in the sunlight. Next we went back to the hostel, got our backpacks, and rested outside for a while before meeting our 3 classmates for dinner. They'd chosen a vegetarian place that served a 3-course meal for 10 Euro, but it was really disappointing - the food wasn't good and it definitely wasn't worth the money. Boo. Afterwards, Bonnie and I took the metro to the bus station and got there rather early, but eventually it was 1:30 AM and we boarded our bus to Bilbao. That was a rather hellish journey, just because it was really cold on the bus and we couldn't really sleep very well. We reached Bilbao around 6:00 AM, and we couldn't meet Tamara and her parents until 9:00 that night, so we had a VERY interesting day. It was really cold when we arrived, and we were dirty and tired and grumpy. We cleaned up in the bus station's bathroom, then wandered around for the day, sleeping in the metro station and in a little park we found as the sun came out and gradually warmed up. Random people talked to me; this older man told me that Bilbao was empty because it was a Sunday in July and everyone was on holiday. It certainly seemed empty; the stores were all closed and nothing was going on. Eventually we ate lunch in a mall Tamara had told me would be open, and then we walked by the Guggenheim and marveled at it, and somehow we wiled away the hours until 9:00, when we returned to the bus station to meet her.

Okay, wow, this is really long. I'm going to stop now, but I'll write more later.

Comments!

I just realized that I'd made it so that you have to log into the Blogger site to leave me a comment, so I changed that. You can now comment anonymously (but you should leave your name anyway so I know who you are!) But THANKS to everyone who's left me a comment anyway. I really appreciate it! :)

Playing Catch-up (Part VIII)

Okay, this is getting ridiculous - I'm in Belfast, and by now I must be a month behind in my blogging! I have so much to write about, so I think I'm going to just blast through the rest of it right now because it's Thursday afternoon and I've got the whole weekend ahead of me. Are you ready?

I'm going to admit that I just spent ten minutes distractedly watching some fake news videos on The Onion. But I'm ready to write now... really. Anyway.

So on to the second weekend in Dublin. Um, I don't know what we did. Most likely we went into the city centre and walked around a whole lot. We probably got lost. Oh, I think we went to the Dublin Writers Museum, which was actually pretty cool. It's housed in an old building on the north side (north of the River Liffey) and features lots of information on the many venerable Irish authors from ancient times to the present. The admission fee (which we were reimbursed for later, score) included one of those recorded tours that you listen to on a vaguely telephone-like apparatus. So we walked around and alternately read plaques about the authors, listened to the recordings, and looked at displays of memorabilia - letters, first editions, typewriters, dress suits... pretty random. Other than that, I don't know that we did anything very exciting.

On Monday we had an all-day field trip to Co. Wicklow. This county is called "the garden of Ireland," and it was easy to see why. We visited Powerscourt Estate, which features a big ol' house, beautiful grounds, and a gorgeous, huge flower garden. We wandered through the grounds for a couple of hours and found a pet cemetary (!), lots of small fountains/pools, a wishing well, and this very fairy tale-esque tower. We we climbed the spiral staircase inside and were rewarded with a gorgeous view of the countryside. Next we went to Glendalough, "the early Christian monastic site...founded in the fifth century, with its seven churches on two lakes." Now, the weather had been beautiful and sunny at Powerscourt but turned rainy and cold at Glendalough. We'd already seen so many round towers and crumbling, ruined churches that I didn't feel too guilty about paying less attention than I might've. But we did have an amusing tour guide who, contrary to other tour guides in Ireland, swore that the round towers could not at all have been used for defense because anybody hiding inside was basically at the mercy of the invaders as the upper-level floors were made of wood - throw in a flame, and you're in a giant firetrap. Kind of makes sense, if you ask me. Anyway, our final stop was at Avondale House, the family home of Charles Stewart Parnell, an absolutely essential figure in nineteenth-century politics. Wikipedia him if you don't know who he is.

On Tuesday we had class, and then a local novelist came and talked to us about contemporary fiction. His name was James Ryan, but none of us had ever really heard of him, and although he was a really friendly guy, what he read aloud from his latest book wasn't too striking. I guess the most interesting thing about him was that he writes about things other authors haven't dealt with; one book is about the experience of an Irish schoolteacher during WWII. Did you know that a whole lot of the Irish people sided with the Germans simply because they were fighting the British? It's true.

We finally wrote our directed reading essay on Wednesday for Connie to show that we did in fact read the books we were assigned before coming to Ireland. So we basically got 4 credits for reading two books and writing a really easy essay about them. Yay. On Thursday we had Declan's class and then heard a lecture about contemporary drama. I felt kind of bad for this young prof who gave the lecture because about a quarter of the class didn't show up, for various reasons; some were leaving for the weekend and others were just lazy. Erm.

Then it was the weekend and again I don't really know what we did. I think we went to the Natural History Museum, which had a wide variety of artifacts from around the globe, not just Ireland. It also housed 6 or so of the bog people, bodies that have been preserved in the bogs for thousands of years. It was so strange to see some of the bodies that were nearly intact, with blackened, shrivelled skin and hair still on their heads. I think I saw Lucy in London when I was there in '04, but these were just really something to look at, especially with Seamus Heaney's bog poetry in mind. Oh, and sometime earlier that week we'd met up with Kate, who goes to St. Olaf and whose younger sister is in our year at Carleton. Kate studied at UCD in the spring and is just living here and sort-of working for the summer. We also met another American, Kate's friend Gabe, who's doing his masters' at Trinity. He's writing about Chaucer, so he was pretty fun to talk to.

Thus began our last week of classes in Dublin! On Monday morning we visited the Irish Film Institute in the city for a dady of modern Irish cinema. As you can imagine, I loved this day. A local film critic spoke for a bit, and then we watched three very different short films. The first, "Zulu 9," was a super intense piece that dealt with illegal immigration in Ireland. It packed an emotional punch, and we were all a bit shocked at the end. Next we watched "Yu Ming is Ainm Dom," which, while also dealing with immigration, was completely lighthearted and told the tale of a Chinese guy who decides, rather arbitrarily, to move to Ireland. He learns Irish and then heads over here, only to discover that English is spoken in most places. He ends up, however, happily living in a gaeltacht (a small completely Irish-speaking community) - a very happy ending. This one had the aesthetic of a Carleton DVDFest film, to be honest. The final short film was called "Six Shooters," and was more along the lines of the first because it was very dark. Basically six people (well, five and a rabbit) die, and then the main guy is going to kill himself, but can't. It's much more involved than that but it's pretty dark. It seemed like it could've been adapted into a feature length film and was pretty well made. Finally we saw "Once," a feature length film that's running the indie circuits and has been quite well recieved at Sundance and the like. It's a cute movie about a Dublin busker who meets an immigrant woman who starts writing lyrics for his song and playing the piano for him... etc. It has some decent music, including one song that was stuck in our heads for weeks afterwards. I liked it because the end was not your typical happy ending - probably because it was an indie film. It's definitely worth a watch. Anyway, we had class in the afternoon, and then went to see an enjoyable performance of "Private Lives" at the Gate Theatre.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, we had class as usual. On Tuesday night, the five of us who'd met up with Kate and Gabe went to Kate's apartment, where they cooked us an amazing vegetarian dinner. They served fresh, organic veggies, pitas, hummus, lentil soup, this delicious almond cous cous dish, roasted vegetables, a goats' cheese-tomato-type salad, a pita & goats' cheese & lentils dish, and then chocolate fondue with fresh fruit and shortbread to dip for dessert. We stayed and talked about lots of things, and had a great night. We also had another free yummy dinner on Wednesday night at our "farewell to Dublin" dinner at a super expensive restaurant. We got three course meals, but personally I thought that the one Kate and Gabe made was superior to this one. :) On Thursday, we wrote our final exam for Declan's "Ulysses" class; he was really easygoing about it and let us basically choose any topic and prepare ahead of time, so it wasn't as stressful as I'd thought it would be.

Then, on Friday, Bonnie and I left for our midterm break in SPAIN! Aaand I think I'll write about that later. Really, I will.

Playing Catch-up (Part VII)

I'm not sure if there's any point to me writing because I don't know if anybody even reads this. Whatever, though, at least I'll have it all for myself in the future.

Today Bonnie and I returned from 6 wonderful days in Spain... if I ever get up to date with this thing, I'll be able to write about that in detail. But we had a great time. I also bought "Deathly Hallows" in a crazily crowded bookstore in Madrid at 1:01 AM and, well, yeah. Wow. :) More on that later, hopefully.

Anyway, back to that first weekend in Dublin. On Saturday we went to an outdoor market in the trendy Temple Bar area and ogled fresh, organic fruits and vegetables and lots of delicious cheeses breads and such. We bought some chives and spinach, and I also bought a book at the book market down the street. I think that the rest of the day was free, so we didn't really do too much else besides walk around the city. On Sunday, we all went to a the hurling semifinal! That was really cool. We got to see a Gaelic football game before the match started, which was interesting. Hurling was not *too* difficult to follow if you didn't try to focus on the rules. There's a sort of field-hocked type stick and a tiny little ball and players can carry it but have to bounce it after five steps or something, and it's really quite violent; we saw more than a few guys beating their fallen opponents over the head with their sticks. I personally was rooting for Wexford, but Kilkenny won - booo. Actually, they pretty much crushed Wexford and moved on to the finals, which will be held in September, I think.

On Monday we had class and two guest lectures, one on Irish history (a whole lotta history packed into an hour and a half!) and one on the Irish langauge and Culture. Both were really informative, but I loved the stuff about Irish, as you might expect. The lecturer himself was also really great; he allowed his lecture to change based on our interests and was very flexible, which we all really appreciated. Later on that night we went to Trinity to listen to some traditional Irish music, which was great. The players were mostly Trinity profs who've known each other and played together for years, and one of them got up and did a sort of traditional dance on the tables. They took turns talking about all of their instruments and the sort of evolution of traditional Irish music.

After classes on Tuesday we visited Kilmainham Jail, a rather infamous place. Many of Dublin's most well-known political prisoners were kept in Kilmainham, and quite a few were executed outside its doors. There was a really neat exhibition type thing set up with information, and then we watched an audiovisual (surprise, surprise) and were given a tour. The place was pretty depressing, for the most part, except for the newer, Victorian wing that had been designed to let in more light than the darker, older, stone cells. It was kind of depressing to learn that at some points in time, people would break the law simply to get *into* the jail because they knew they'd at least have food and shelter there. When living in super crowded conditions in a cold, damp, hard cell is better than being a free person, things have reached a rather dire point.

Wednesday included more classes and the second half of the guest lectures, which were, again, very informative. We learned some simple phrases in Irish and now I have a desire to go to a gaeltacht (an area were Irish is spoken fluently and is pretty nearly the first language) and learn it. Failing that, maybe I'll try to teach myself. Anyway, that night we went to a poetry reading where 10 poets from the latest edition of an anthology read some of their work. I hadn't heard of any of them, but it was nice to have a break from Joyce. Ho hum.

We were supposed to go the Joyce center after class on Thursday, but Connie realized how burnt out everyone was and decided to make that expedition optional. Needless to say, we were all verrry thankful about that.

Playing Catch-up (Part VI)

This morning I overslept (thanks to a rather misleading dream where I was up and getting ready for class) and didn't have time to eat or shower before class, and then after class Bonnie's and my attempts to print some important information about our flights to Spain was foiled by the idiotic library's computers here, which won't let us log into our Carleton emails, and now it's pouring out and we have to leave soon for a Yeats exhibit at the National Library that will, I'm sure, be absolutely thrilling. In other words it's a bad day. So I'm just going to write some more here instead of doing anything productive.

Okay, so on our first Tuesday in Dublin we were introduced to our "Ulysses" professor, Declan Kiberd. He is one of the foremost "Ulysses" scholars in Ireland, if not the world; he edited and wrote the introduction to our Penguin edition of the text and is generally renowned amongst Joyce scholars for his knowledge of the book. Needless to say, we were all both excited and terrified of meeting him. But Declan is a charismatic, modest, and accomodating teacher, and he's nowhere near as intimidating as I'd expected. He really listens to whatever his students have to say and is equally interested in both learning from us and teaching us. On the other hand, since he's read the book 35+ times (no easy feat; it's over 900 pages and its accessability is questionable at best), he has a whole lot of his own theories and beliefs that are sort of difficult to grasp for us first-time readers. But it's still a great class, even if the book is a monster to get through. During our time in Dublin, we have his class on Tuesdays & Thursdays and Connie's class on Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm not really going to mention them from now on, but I promise - we are doing work here!

On Tuesday evening, we all went on the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl. Basically, this involves two actors leading a group of tourists to about 4 pubs throughout Dublin while periodically stopping to re-enacts scenes from works by Irish writers. It was enjoyable, but not as enjoyable as you might expect. I don't really know what to say about it.

On Wednesday, most of us attended a talk given by none other than Declan himself at the National Library, which is holding a "birthday celebration" in honour of Yeats. Declan spoke about "W.B. Yeats and the Celtic Tradition," and it was interesting to hear him speaking in depth about someone other than Joyce. That half of our class couldn't get in because the room was just packed to its fullest is a testament to his status among the literati here in Dublin; he's a big name and draws a big crowd.

Afterwards, we all headed to the Peacock Theatre (a more independent offshoot of the Abbey Theatre) to attend a performance of "Terminus," a brand new play written and directed by Mark O'Rowe, an Irish playwright. None of us knew what to expect, but we certainly didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. There were only three actors, and they all had one spot on the stage in which they remained throughout the duration of the play. They had about 3 or 4 monologues each - all incredibly depressing/tragic/shocking - and their stories all connected at the end. There was serial killing, suicide, a flying demon... it was kind of insane. The actors were pretty amazing, however, so I suppose it was a decent experience.

Thursday involved a visit to Sandycove, a beachy area just a little out of Dublin city. We visited the Jocye Museum, which is housed in Martello Tower, where the first chapter in "Ulysses" is set. It had an impressive view of the sea (bay?) from the top and also had a collection of various types of Joyce memorabilia, from books to letters to his guitar. So that was pretty neat.

On Friday, we had an all-day trip that took us out of County Dublin. This was one of the best day trips, even if it was tiring. Our guide, Danielle, was an archaeologist from Trinity, so she really knew what she was talking about when she took us to a variety of amazing sites. We first visited Tara, seat of the ancient high kings of - okay, I want to say Gondor here but I won't - Ireland. This is worth a Wikipedia read-up if you don't know about it. The audiovisual presentation here showed us lots of pretty aerial views of the large hills that were build up in ring shapes, which was helpful because when we were walking through the sheep poop strewn grass, it was difficult to tell exactly where we were. Tara is one of Ireland's most important historical sites, even if it doesn't look like much today. In the past there wer lots of incredibly important rituals that Ireland's kings had to perform at Tara to prove that they were worthy and ready to lead. Today there's a big controversy over a proposed plan to build a road through Tara; there are lots of activist groups who advocate diverting the road and saving Tara, while others feel that it's just an old hill and that progress is high king nowadays. Personally, I side with the former group.

Anyway, after Tara we visited Loughcrew Cairns. After clambering up yet another hill, we were able to enter into a passage grave. They were once used as burial chambers, and from the outside look like hobbit holes, built right into a hill. The entrances are lined with rocks engraved with various Celtic symbols, and inside, the main passage is arranged into a kind of rough cross shape. All the arms of the cross, and all of the passage in general, is comprised of these stones decorated with more engravings. On one particular day of the year - most likely a solstice or equinox; I can't remember which - a beam of sunlight follows a direct path into the cairn and illuminates a carving of the sun. As it moves it follows a particular line of engravings until it finally vanishes from sight... very Raiders of the Lost Ark, minus the treasure. This was an amazing place.

Next we headed to the town of Kells, which was built around another monastic settlement and where the Book of Kells was once kept. It has a round tower and a beautiful old church with some of the most well-known and intricately carved Celtic crosses; Danielle showed us what lots of the engravings meant. The 10th century (I think?) house of St. Columba, who is speculated to have worked on the Book and eventually started a monastic settlement on Iona in Scotland, is also here. The house (it might've been a church once as well) is completely made of stone, including the steeply pitched roof. It might've had a second story, but the wood has long since rotted away. However, after the keeper of the keys, a little old lady who narrated a history of the building, let us in, we were able to climb a rather tall ladder up into the "attic," where monks might've spent their time as they worked on their manuscripts. It was dusty and cramped and dark and we had to crawl for a bit before there was room to stand, but it was amazing and kind of surreal to see.

We also visited Trim Castle, where, interestingly enough, most of "Braveheart" was filmed. This castle could've been built for defense, but Danielle was more of the opinion that it was used for psychological purposes - landholders build it to assert their authority and power over the poor peasants. Makes sense to me. The castle itself wasn't what you'd typically expect to see; it wasn't all lofty towers and creeping vines... it was more angular and compact and kind of ugly, to be honest. Still, it was worth a look.

Playing Catch-up (Part V)

Okay, time to do another marathon catch-up post. I'd also like to mention, lest you think that my first week in Ireland was all day trips and mountain climbing, we did have class three times, alternating between our apartments. And we watched this really emotionally powerful (sounds corny, I know) movie called "The Wind that Shakes the Barley." Like everything else in Ireland, it was tragic. Ho hum

Anyway, I left off in Galway. On Sunday we packed up and left there, heading for Dublin! En route, we stopped at Conmacnoise, yet another early Christian monastic settlement founded by St. Ciaran in the 6th century. This one had a number of ruined churches and abbeys and some pretty amazing Celtic crosses and another round tower, but I couldn't quite enjoy it fully because I was in a bit of a grumpy mood; I was a bit tired of being on coaches and having lots of stops. The "audiovisual presentation" at Clonmacnoise brightened up my day a bit. These AV presentations can be found at nearly every site we visit; they're basically videos about the place. This one was hilarious because it used these ridiculous cartoon-type illustrations of monks in its treatment of the history of the place. Everyone was cracking up; it was definitely the high point to my day. Anyway, after that we headed straight to Dublin and arrived in the early evening at University College Dublin, which was (and is) our home sweet home in dear dirty Dublin (sorry, that's the Joyce getting to me - it's really not so dirty these days, thankfully.) We were met at Roebuck Hall by our Dublin liaison, Seona, who runs USIT, a student travel organization here in Dublin. She was responsible for organizing all the seminars and day trips we attended during our stay in Dublin and was really helpful. As we all were issued key cards to Roebuck, we stared at the obviously very new building in apprehension - we didn't know what to expect. We were all surprised for the better when we discovered that our flats are, in a word, amazing. UCD's campus houses many new buildings, and our apartments are less than a year old. We live in 6-person apartments with a shared kitchen/lounge but individual single rooms with, get this, individual bathrooms! No Carleton dorm can boast that amenity. Although the dorms really lack character, for a month-long stay, I'm not complaining. They feel mostly clean and have really big windows, which are really nice at night because you don't have to turn the lights on until at least 10:00.

Anyway, that was our arrival to Dublin. We bought some food at the (highly overpriced) Centra grocery store on campus and ate dinner, noting with sadness our lack of an oven. We were all pretty tired and went to bed fairly early.

The next morning, we had class with Connie and then departed UCD for an "introductory tour of Dublin" that was really much too fast-paced. I think our first stop was at Trinity College, the traditionally Protestant university (UCD is Catholic), to see... the Book of Kells! If you hadn't figured it out, that's where my blog gets its name. If you don't know what the Book of Kells is, Wikipedia it. :) The exhibit leading up to the actual book was really impressive; it was a big collection of information and pictures about similar documents/books that have been found, along with information about how they were made and the history of the Book of Kells and its connection to Iona and whatnot. Finally, we progressed into a darkly lit room with a glass case in the middle, featuring the Book of Kells, obviously open to one page only, and two others, the books of Armagh and... maybe Durrow? There are four other books which are shown on alternating days. I have wanted to see the Book of Kells for quiiite a long time, and it didn't fail to impress me. The illumations were beautiful, and it was really amazing to see "in person." Then we passed into the famed Trinity Library; you've probably seen pictures of this absolutely beautiful old library at some point. It's got spiral staircases and high, high bookcases and is amazing. The bibliophile's dream room was kind of marred because there was a display featuring WWII propaganda currently there, but it was still gorgeous and made me wish I had a legitimate research project that would gain me access to the books themselves. :)

Afterwards, we visited Dublin Castle, which is a weird mix of old castle and new buildings; it has been used as a government building for centuries and was kind of the embodiment of British colonial rule in Ireland for quite a long time. We were given a tour, complete with a foreign tourist who videotaped literally the ENTIRE THING, which was weird, and then we were led underground into a really quite old Viking "defence bank" and tower, which was discovered when some group was doing roadwork or something a while back.

Then we headed to St. Patrick's Cathedral, but were thwarted by a visiting choir group from Germany or something, so we couldn't stay for too long. We poked around and saw Swift's tomb, but didn't really get to see too much, which was kind of disappointing. Then our tour guide wanted to take us somewhere else, but we had a "reception dinner" to get to, so our whirlwind tour ended a the Purty Kitchen, a trendy, swanky bar/restaurant in Temple Bar, the artsy, funky, but also kind of commercialized portion of Dublin. We had been expecting a full-out dinner, and were disappointed to learn we'd only be receving appetizers. However, the plates of appetizers just kept on coming and the wine flowed freely and we all ended up with full stomachs, so we were appeased. Plus we got to mingle with Jim and his wife Jane for the last time, which was really nice.

I ended the night with a lovely ramble through the city with Esther, Bonnie, Liza, Sherry, and Kate. We explored a bit and began the process of acquainting ourselves with the strange, haphazard arrangement of twisty streets whose names change completely arbitrarily at random points. Then we got our initiation into the Dublin City Bus system as we took the 10 bus home. Throughout the past few weeks, the 10 bus has been our connection to the city, and it has served us well - except when we're forced to wait nearly an hour for a late one or have just missed it or have had to watch it fly by down the road without stopping even though we were CLEARLY waiting for it - and we love it. Haha.

Okay, whoa. Enough for now.

Playing Catch-up (Part IV)

Okay guys, I'm going to try to zip right through this entry, because I've been writing way too much and at this rate I'll never get caught up! So here goes my best attempt at not being wordy...!

On Wednesday, we visited Westport, the biggest town by Louisburgh. It reminded Bonnie and I of Newport; it had the same sort of shops and such. We'd been there once before (although I can't remember when, haha), so we were familiar with the layout and just meandered around for a bit. Then we all walked to Westport House, the big manor-type house that preceded the growth of Westport (the town.) After visiting Hennigan's Heritage Center a few days before, the difference was striking. This house was along the lines of the mansions in Newport, although not quite as huge. The rooms and ground were impressive, but it was also kind of strange and disconcerting to see it billed as a "family fun adventure park" in the brochure and to find carnival-type mirrors in the basement and strange wooden cut-out monsters in the old dungeon. Apparently there was a need for funding for the house at one point, and turning it into a strange mix of history and (rather lame) theme park was going to solve the problem. Um, okay. That was it for Wednesday, I think. Oh, that night Bonnie and I walked back to the beach and she submerged herself even though the water was really cold!

Thursday was our free day. We were supposed to have an optional trip to another beach a way up the coast, but ultimately we decided not to go because there were some very threatening stormclouds hanging in the sky and the van-taxi driver had a feeling that it would end up pouring on us right when we reached the beach. Mostly we hung around all day, although Bonnie, Esther and I also walked into town and explored a bit. The clouds had passed and it was beautiful and sunny and nearly warm for a while, but then we noticed that although one side of the sky was blue and pretty, the other was amassing another army of clouds, so we hightailed it home just in time to beat the rain. Score. That night I walked down to the beach around sunset and took some pictures of the absolutely sublime sunset. The colours were amazing.

On Friday, we said goodbye to County Mayo and headed to the Aran Islands, more specifically, Inis Mor, the largest island. We drove through Connemara on the way there, a gorgeous, green, hilly section of the West. I noticed that the old, roofless, ramshackle stone cottages that dotted the hills and rested beside the roadways in Mayo were absent here; I'm not sure why. In Mayo, they're everywhere, and are all in various states of disrepair - some have trees growing right up through their middles, others have only a couple of walls left, others are covered in vines. I really like how the Irish government just allowed them to remain in the countryside instead of tearing them down. They're not eyesores at all, and I wish I knew more about what they were used for - were they old houses or churches or what? I don't think that they were houses, because they were made of stone and not too many people could afford that. But, anyway, their absence during this drive really struck me. So! We drove by a long dark lake and saw Ireland's one and only fjord (yup.) On the way, Jim, as usual, enthusiastically narrated our drive and told us stories, particularly about the Famine, since this was one of the areas hardest hit by it.

Eventually we reached the ferry landing and hopped a ride over to Inis Mor. Once we reached the island, we were provided with vouchers for renting bicycles. Most tourists either bike around or take a bus tour. The day ended up being really sunny and warm after the clouds dissipated, so we were glad to have the bikes. After grabbing a bite to eat, Esther, Bonnie and I strained and pedaled our way up the hills of Inis Mor to the Dun Arann Lighthouse. We huffed and puffed and stopped to, ahem, "enjoy the scenery," fairly often, but finally we made it and were well-rewarded for our toils. After a ten-minute walk on foot, we reached the lighthouse, decided not to pay to enter, and wandered through the fields instead. Inis Mor is absolutely covered in old, low stone walls, running this way and that and crisscrossing everywhere. I'm not sure what they were originally used for, but there are some stone drinking troughs in various spots so maybe they were animal pens. Eventually we made our way to some circular stone fort-type dealio, with a raised stone circle in the middle. We clambered up and looked around and saw the sea to both sides, fields of green all around, and blue skies above, and we were happy. We didn't bike any further, which may have been a mistake since apparently there's an AMAZING cliff that just drops right off into the sea, as well as an ancient Celtic stone fort and more tiny old churches. But we were tired and wanted to check out the famous Aran sweater shops, so we headed back and did just that.

That evening we reached the port city of Galway, where we stayed for the weekend. We checked into our hostel and then explored the city a bit and ate dinner. Later Liza, Samantha and I found a huge flock (?) of swans and took photos and such before retiring to our room for the evening.

I'll just write a bit about the city a bit now. Our hostel was located in Eyre Square, quite close to the main drag. Galway is nicely sized; it's small and easy to navigate but has a nice city centre with lots of shops and eateries and pubs and such. It's always full of buskers playing various instruments or putting on street acts, and although the shops close quite early, the pubs are open late. Galway is known for its seafood, so there are lots of restaurants that both sell fish and chips and have a fish market attached. I really enjoyed our short stay there, but I think that I would've gotten bored of it if we'd stayed much longer.

Okay, on Saturday morning we went to a really wonderful farmers' market, which had lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, some cheesemongers, fish, hummus, and then jewelry and bags and such in stalls right nearby. There were also hot food stands, including an all-vegetarian one from which Esther and I ordered some sort of Indian food that was quite tasty and also inexpensive.

Afterwards, we all headed out for yet another excursion. This time, we visited Thoor Ballylee, also known as Yeats' Tower. Yeats purchased this literal stone tower and lived in it for a period of time with his English wife, who fitted it up fairly well. Now it's a museum, and we climbed up the stairs and wondered how he could have felt comfortable there and whether it ever got warm inside the tower. It was really neat to see the place that provided inspiration for not a few of his poems, even though I was grumbling about never having a moment to ourselves and always being on the move. Of course, we couldn't have just one excursion in a day, so afterwards we went to Coole Park, the estate on which Lady Gregory lived. Lady Gregory was a contemporary of Yeats; the two of them pretty much began the Irish literary revival in the beginning of the 20th century. She was a translator of ancient Irish myths and was also a rather prolific playwright. Unfortunately, her house at Coole Park fell into disrepair and was destroyed, so we could only really look at an exhibit and the grounds, now called a "nature preserve." One interesting landmark was this really old, huge beech tree, called the Autograph Tree, into which lots of prominent Irish authors carved their names. Afterwards, we mercifully didn't have another stop, so we headed back to Galway. That night, some of us went to a pub with Jim and Connie, because this was one of Jim's last nights with the program before he and his wife headed out to do some of their own traveling. Being the chivalrous older Irish gentleman that he is, Jim bought drinks for all the ladies who went along. :)

That was it for Saturday, I do believe. I'll write soon and in my next entry, we will reach Dublin (where I've been for two weeks now... haha!)

Catch-up (Part III)

Class was held in our cottage the next morning. All twenty students crowded into our living room, and Connie presided by the fireplace. I should explain that our cottages were probably more spacious than what you might imagine them to be. Upstairs was a triple with a bathroom (shower/toilet) attached, and downstairs housed a living room/dining room, which connected to the other bedrooms via a very small kitchen. There were two doubles on the ground floor as well as another bathroom, this one with a toilet and a bathtub. Because energy in Europe is not cheap, Europeans are much more energy conscious than we are – each outlet can be turned on and off, so that even when something’s plugged into it, it can be turned off to stop the electrical current from flowing and being wasted. Our cottage’s heat and hot water had to be turned on individually, and because the shower’s water was either scalding or freezing, many of us resorted to taking actual baths, which was quite a change for me.

Anyway, back to class. We all crowded into our living room and discussed the first three stories of “Dubliners” for two hours. I don’t think I really want to talk about that, and I’m sure nobody wants to hear about it. If you’re really interested in James Joyce’s theory of paralysis in early twentieth-century Dublin as demonstrated through these short stories, feel free to email me. I’m not expecting anything, however.

After class, Connie decided that since the weather was not overtly rainy and didn’t seem too threatening, it might be a nice day to climb Croagh Patrick, the mountain from which St. Patrick was said to have banished all the snakes from Ireland. Mind you, Connie did not climb it herself on this particular day, nor was it explained to us that although this is a popular pilgrimage site, it is a fully functional mountain and climbing it was not going to be a simple stroll up a pretty green hill.

When we were dropped off at the mountain (we were taxied there by Connie and by a big red van-taxi that seated 14), we were warned to turn back if it started raining, as the rocks might be slippery. Little did we know, early on in our climb, how very true that warning was.

I don’t know if I can properly convey the experience that was Croagh Patrick. We had no idea what we were getting into, and throughout the climb we kept wondering just how high the mountain was and how much longer we had to go. The peak, you see, was obscured by a stormy cloud, so our confusion was justified.

Basically, the Croagh Patrick climb was misery itself, but it was the rewarding kind of misery that makes for an experience you’ll never ever forget. I’m going to quote from the email I sent to my friends wherein I described the climb: “The climb started out fairly innocuously, with greenery and sheep and prettiness. But soon we were laboring up a mountainside in quickly-increasing mist and rain and rapidly decreasing temperatures. We had no idea how far it was to the peak but Esther, Bonnie and I refused to give up. When we finally made it after about two hours, including a harrowing 30 minute scramble over rocks in vision-obscuring rain towards the end, it was so damn foggy and cold and wet that we could not even seen the allegedly beautiful view from the top. Then we had to go down.”

Hopefully that gets the picture across. The way down was much better, even though I couldn’t see for the first third of it. But my legs weren’t burning and I wasn’t forced to stop every ten minutes “to enjoy the scenery” (read: give my poor, out-of-shape muscles a break), so I was willing to trade in my vision for that luxury. Once we made it down the hill, nobody was around to bring us back, so a big group of us stood around, sopping wet and freezing, while we waited for the taxi-van to return. Needless to say, we didn’t do too much that evening, and I slept more soundly that night than I have ever done in recent years… no lie. Oh, and I ought to add that I was REALLY GLAD that Mom and I had found and purchased my windbreaker before I left, because that baby saved me from a whole lot of misery. I would've been completely soaked through if I hadn't been wearing it.

On Tuesday, I forgot my camera, so my memories of that day are a bit foggy as I don’t have any visual aid to prompt it. We had another full day, with three stops. The first was Aghagower, which was basically another graveyard and round tower combination, although this round tower wasn’t nearly as impressive as the one at Meelick. We could go inside this one because it had an entrance at ground level, but it was also missing its top half. Aghagower also housed the ruins of an old stone abbey, which was fairly picturesque, as those sorts of things usually tend to be.

Next we went to Ballintubber Abbey, built by King Cathal O’Conor sometime during the 13th century. The Abbey has been used on and off ever since then, and is still in really beautiful shape after undergoing a restoration not too long ago. We were also given a tour of the grounds, which included some strange things, including this little hobbit-hole like place with a representation of Jesus’ birth and the story of the robin who burned his breast while trying to keep the baby Jesus warm. I enjoyed this stop because although it was yet another church and graveyard, it had a unique personality and history.

Finally, we visited Knock, where Our Lady, Saint Joseph, and Saint John the Evangelist appeared to a group of peasants in the late 1800s. The site quickly became a hot spot for pilgrimages, and Pope John Paul II even graced the Shrine with his presence in 1979. Although it had a good story, the whole place seems to have become rather commercialized, and I found a lot of the stores really tacky. I think it’s sad when such a meaningful religious experience is overshadowed by rampant commercialism in such a tasteless way.

In summation: Tuesday = churches and graveyards and commercialism, oh my!

Catch-up (Part II)

Okay, it's Thursday night and I'm going to take a break from 'Ulysses' in order to write some more. We're up to Day Two... oh dear. I'm going to write a much more abbreviated account of the next couple of days.

After getting a much-needed night's sleep, we all woke up feeling refreshed. My cottagemates and I ate a hearty breakfast of porridge, and then Esther, Bonnie and I decided to explore the countryside around our cottages before setting off for an afternoon of museum and graveyard visiting. The sky was blue and the sun was warm (one of the last times this happened!), and we spent a good hour and a half traipsing down narrow roads and up hills to see what we could see. Mostly, we saw cows, including some overtly friendly ones who came right up to us and seemed to be begging for a snack. As we walked, we were charmed by the lovely contrast between the bright blue sky and the bright green grass, and had an altogether pleasant morning constitutional.

That afternoon, we hopped on Jimmy's coach and, led by Jim, set off to visit three places he thought we really ought to see. The first was the Michael Davitt Museum, set in a restored church, behind which Michael Davitt himself is buried. Davitt is somewhat of a national hero to many Irish people; he helped form the Land League, which fought for the ownership of the land by the Irish farmers themselves, and not absentee Englishmen. The museum was full of Davitt's personal effects, Land League propaganda/paraphernalia, and the like. Out back we found the one of the first of many graveyards that we were to see during this first week in Ireland. On a sloping hill were a variety of headstones, from the traditional type you'd see in America to the iconic Celtic cross that is virtually everywhere in Ireland. After taking a multitude of pictures, we headed out again, bound for Meelick.

Jim grew up in Swinford, a tiny "town" right near Meelick. Meelick plays host to one of the five round towers in County Mayo, located in a graveyard that holds personal significance to Jim because it's where his maternal grandfather is buried. En route to Meelick, he shared lots of stories about his childhood, his family, and his childhood experience - he grew up in a tiny house with his mother and siblings; his father went to England to find work, and Jim only saw his father a few times a year. Because of that, his grandfather played a very paternal role in Jim's early life. Jim pointed out the site where his childhood home used to stand, but it'd been cleared away years ago. When we reached Meelick, he immediately led us to his grandfather's grave. A small statue of Mary stood in front of the headstone; the Irish are really fond of decorating graves with flowers and other religious paraphernalia to show that they still remember the dead.

Other than the graves, we enjoyed seeing Meelick's round towers. Round towers are speculated to have been built to watch for Viking invaders, but it's not certain if that's true. Most of them have doors about twelve feet above the ground so that defenders could enter via ladder but could pull it up to prevent the invaders from getting in. The round tower at Meelick is the least famous of all of Mayo's five towers, mostly because its origins are the most murky. Despite that, it was still definitely a sight worth seeing.

Our last stop was at Hennigan’s Heritage Center. This was a really amazing place. Tom Hennigan, the man in charge, has preserved for the public the small, traditional Irish home that he grew up in. Jim knew Tom, who gratefully acknowledged Jim as one of people who first began to help the Center gain popularity among tour groups. The house had one main room, with a little bed for the parents build into a niche in the wall near the fireplace, a small bedroom with two beds for the children to share, and one room on the other side of the main room that his grandmother lived in. Tom explained the way he grew up and the way his family lived, from the implements they used to cook potatoes to how they’d hide goods in little holes in the wall covered by religious paintings to how they’d all bathe together in the middle of the room with one big washtub. It was clear from his presentation that he really wanted to dispel the myth or stereotype that the Irish people, up until a very recent point, lived “primitively.” He argued that their lifestyle, while very simplistic, was also very environmentally friendly and not at all consumerist. Tom also showed us through a series of rooms he’d fitted up in a variety of ways; one was a blacksmith’s shop, one showed traditional knitting and weaving… that sort of thing. Afterwards, we were invited into the small coffee shop-type room for tea, scones, and small sandwiches – a very welcome refreshment after walking around in the cold and being on the go all day long. Once we returned to the cottages, we had made dinner and then got started on our reading, since we had our first class the next morning.

(I've got more typed up, but I'm going to wait to write about a few more days before posting again.)

Playing Catch-up (Part I)

I'm finally settled into my apartment-style dorm in Dublin, and we have wireless internet in our rooms! It's really exciting. Carleton doesn't even have wireless in the dorms. Way to go, UCD! More about that later, however, because I really need to recap my first week in Ireland before my memories start to fade. The professor who's leading the program, Connie, has asked us to keep journals in which we're to record our impressions of our readings and our excursions and Ireland as a whole. So I've been making sure to write in that one fairly frequently, and I've also got my regular journal/diary, so basically I'm doing a whole lot of writing. Anyway, I'm going to start my big recap. I don't know how far I'll get tonight, since it's already getting late (oops) and I have class in the morning. I'm basically going to record what I've been up to and go light on the "reflecting" and whatnot, but when I get caught up later on, I'll try to give you some insight into my impressions of the program and my experiences here. Also, I'm going to warn you straight up that I write excessively. I apologize, but I can't help it - I'm a wordy person. Sorry!

So! Bonnie and I arrived at the Shannon airport at about 8:35 in the morning on Saturday, 16 June, after a six-hour flight from JFK. Our seats on the Delta flight were somehow up in first class, so we were lucky enough to have the individual TV screens with lots more options of what to watch than what was being shown on the cabin screens. We were pretty excited about that, but as we descended into Ireland, we put our screens away and tried to catch a glimpse of the Emerald Isle through the windows (we were in the middle aisle.) Unfortunately, the island was shrouded in a foggy mist, and it wasn't until we were really close to the ground that we could see the green grass at all. As the plane descended, however, I caught glimpses of sheep in fields right around the airport, and then suddenly the plane touched down with a jolt, and we were there. After we'd gone through customs and gathered up our luggage, Bonnie and I found some members of our group and plopped down on the seats. We had to wait a few hours for Connie to arrive with Jim, another Carleton professor who grew up in Ireland and was going to be with us for our first week in County Mayo, his home. Once they'd arrived and all of the other students' planes had landed, we made our way outside to meet the driver of our coach. His name was Jimmy, and he was a second or third cousin of Jim and another native of County Mayo. We loaded up our luggage into the coach, found seats, and began the two and a half hour drive from Shannon to Louisburgh, County Mayo, on the west coast of Ireland.

Although we were driving through the beautiful Irish countryside, we were all so tired from our travels that most of us slept during the ride. I got a fair amount of sleep and ended up with some fun bruises on my head the next day from falling asleep and banging my head on the window as I nodded off. Once we arrived in Louisburgh, we were forced to wake up and move all of our belongings into our cottages. We stayed for a week in the Louisburgh Holiday Cottages, a small grouping of traditional-looking whitewashed cottages complete with colorful doors, big fireplaces, and complimentary peat bricks. There were seven people to a cottage, and the group took up three cottages, plus the one that Connie, Jim, and his wife Jane shared.

That evening, we walked into town (about three minutes away from the cottages) and were shown the two grocery stores and the multiple pubs and the small library that it included. Later, we all went to dinner at a local pub, which was overpriced and not that tasty. But we were all so hungry and tired that we didn't complain, and getting a good meal into our stomachs definitely gave us all a well-needed dose of energy.

Later on that night, Bonnie, Esther and I decided to follow Jim's recommendation and check out the beach that was about a ten or fifteen minute walk away from the cottages. We probably left around 9:00 or 9:30, and we were amazed that it was still fully light outside. Ireland is so far north that the sun doesn't start to set until at least 10:00 PM. It was also a few days before the summer solstice, so that also helped. Anyway, our walk to the beach afforded some amazing views. County Mayo, and most of the western coast of Ireland, is not flat at all. There are some legitimate mountains, but the landscape as a whole is very hilly. The roads to the beach were for the most part bordered by shrubbery on both sides, and over them we saw green hills sloping upwards. Small clusters of houses dotted the hillsides, and sheep and cows were everywhere, fenced into small pastures and fields by the houses. Along the side of the road we saw the first of many old, abandoned stone cottages - more about those later. We were blessed with relatively sunny skies during this walk, which we would later come to view as something of an anomaly.

Once we reached the beach, we were surprised and impressed with the view. I'm no nature writer, so any description I give you will most likely be inadequate, but I promise that I'll put my pictures online soon and then you can really understand what I'm talking about. Anyway, Clew Bay, an extension of the Atlantic, formed an absolutely beautiful beach in Louisburgh. The grass ended abruptly and dropped off, and suddenly we found ourseves walking on a somewhat narrow strip of sand, split by a large deposit of sand-flea infested seaweed. Small, wide sandbars jutted out into the water, and around us were green-topped cliffs and hills. There were small, sandy islands not very far out, and across part of the bay we could see even more mountainous land. The blue sky and the sun playing on the water made for some beautiful pictures. Bonnie and I, having put our feet in the ocean at Newport and Coney Island in the two previous days, felt called upon to touch the Atlantic's waters on its opposite shores. The water was cold, but we didn't mind. We frolicked on the beach with quite a few of our fellow classmates for some time, and then headed back to the cottages for a much-needed night of sleep as the sun finally set, only getting completely dark around 11:00 PM.

I'm going to stop for now, because it's nearly 1:00 AM. I promise that I'll write more soon, and I'll also, by necessity, have to make an attempt to embrace brevity. Cheers!

Greetings from Galway

Hey, family! I've decided to keep a blog so that I can share my adventures in Ireland with you all. I've been here for a week, but I haven't had internet access until now. I'm currently in Galway; we're staying for two days and our hostel has free WiFi! Tomorrow we're leaving for Dublin, where we'll be staying for a little over a month. Once I get settled in there, I should have much more regular access to the internet, and then I'll be able to make a proper post detailing just what I've been up to for the past week or so. Suffice it to say that there's been a whole lot of graveyards, sheep, cows, rain, Joyce, lovely Irish accents, and a particularly nasty mountain.

So that's what you have to look forward to once I get a chance to write a marathon post either tomorrow or Monday. Now I'm going to journey into the city with Esther and Bonnie to find food, and then we're going to Yeats' Tower for the afternoon. Hope you're all well!