Adventuring about the island

   The only downfall to not having classes on Monday is having absolutely nothing else to do on Mondays.  If I had the motivation to actually read for my classes, I might not be so bored, but let's be realistic... My motivation to do just about anything has drastically decreased over the last couple of weeks. These Irish students really have a horrible influence on me.  But last week I played catch up and got a lot accomplished.  And once I break free from my lazy weekend attitude, I'll probably try to get some stuff done this week. We'll see...

   Time to recap the last few weeks. As usual, there is nothing to report from my time in school unless you want to the hear mundane details of my lectures and tutorials.  The more interesting stuff that I can report all happens over the weekends.

   Between the the 27th of February and the 1st of March, I was in a different country for the first time! Ok, so it was still on the same little island, but since I went to the northern end, I was technically in the UK.  Not too much is different other than the currency and seeing more Union Jacks than normal.

   We UL kids (all nine of us) loaded onto a giant yellow charter bus and headed to Dublin to pick up more Arcadia kids (Arcadia being the program that I used to come to study abroad).  From there we headed to Maynooth (the location of which I am still unaware) to pick up some more, and with a full bus continued on to Belfast.  The trip was ridiculously long for us, since we loaded the bus at 9:45 and didn't arrive until after 6:30. We saw a LOT of sheep along the way.

   On our first full day in the Northern Ireland, we all went to the Giant's Causeway. It was fantastically gorgeous and probably the most beautiful place I've seen so far in Ireland, and that's saying something.  Along the beach there are a bajillion huge flat, 6-sided rocks that all fit together perfectly to form this huge stone area. 

  

   It's beautiful and also slippery as heck.  Why do I keep going to all of these amazing-yet-dangerous places? Sooner or later I'm going to succumb to my clumsiness and be seriously injured.  It's only a matter of time. 

   After slipping around on the beach for a sufficient amount of time we headed on the path up to the top of the cliffs overlooking the Causeway. Saying that the climb up there was a workout is an understatement.  

   But right as I was climbing up the last few of the 32,906,234,562 stairs to the top, the sun came out in order to better illustrate how unbelievably beautiful the whole area was.

   Like I said, gorgeous.  It looked like we were in the Bahamas or something. Too bad the nearest neighbor to the north was actually Iceland...

   Our trip to the Giant's Causeway will always be remembered by me not as only one of the most beautiful spots in Ireland, but also as the day where I had to pee worse than ever before.  I spent the entire time - from the start our decent to the beaches, to hopping from stone to stone, to posing for countless pictures,  to climbing up a freaking mountain, to lying in the grass next to the edge of a cliff  - in the tremendous, life-or-death need for a bathroom.  The constant swooshing of the waves as they came in off the ocean didn't do much to help the situation.  I mean, I am all for preserving the beauty of that area, but I can't see how installing a Port-a-Potty behind a rock wall somewhere down near the beach would completely ruin the aesthetics! But finally, after over three hours, we headed back to the visitors' center, where I found salvation in ceramic form. 

   We departed to go back to Belfast and were able to do a bit of shopping before the shops closed.  This whole European trend for closing the stores down at 6 really doesn't suit my tastes...  On our way back to our hostel, some of the girls and I rode the ferris wheel right next to the city hall.  

   On Sunday we were treated to a lecture by a local Professor who has spent his life studying the murals that cover so many walls in Belfast.  His presentation on the Troubles in Northern Ireland was extremely interesting, and on our bus tour of the city a few hours later, we were able to see some of the murals close up.

   It's difficult to imagine that only over a decade ago, this entire city was at war with itself.  The murals, along with the two-story tall, barbed-wire "peace" wall dividing the Loyalists from the Nationalists, serve as sort of eerie reminders of how far the city has come, but also how easily it could fall back into such a violent down-spiral. (If you haven't heard, two British soldiers at a base in Antrim were killed and four others were injured by members of the Real IRA just a couple of days ago, re-sparking a lot of tension for the people in Northern Ireland.)

   Finally we headed home, getting back to Limerick around 10PM.  The week of school that followed was pretty unremarkable, other than the random snow that fell in wet heaps on Wednesday morning.  Two friends and I did, however, finally take advantage of UL's indoor 50-meter pool and went swimming Thursday night after our aerobics class.  It was (not including the embarrassing swim-cap) a great time and a good way to relax after a day of sitting in the classroom. 

   On Friday Rachel (my roommate from last semester at MU) and two of her friends flew in for a visit from Paris! It was lovely to have them here.  We did a bit of food shopping on Friday after I met them in town, and then came back to my place and made pizza (a tradition of ours from Mondays in Columbia).  

   The next day we decided to go to the nearby town of Adare, which is supposed to be one of the most picturesque villages in Ireland.  It did not disappoint. It was completely adorable, really relaxed, and had everything a quaint little Irish village should:

Thatched roofs? Check! 

Adorable park? Check.

Huge amazing manor? Triple check. 

  We even stopped in a local cafe for drinks. I opted for good ol' hot chocolate. 

   After arriving back in town we all went to a pub called Dolan's to get fish and chips and watch the Rugby match. They wanted the authentic Irish experience.

   They left on Sunday after we went on a stroll along the river and through the countryside surrounding the campus. Only in Ireland do you wander by random tower ruins while on a walk...

Lesson learned: even the desperately ungraceful can survive the Cliffs of Moher

    I've officially been living in Ireland for over a month now, and have survived four weeks of school.  The scary thing is that there aren't that many weeks left! I've been looking forward to my time here for months and months, and already 1/4 of our time in school here is over, and I feel like it's not even begun yet.  I don't know if I'll be ready to say goodbye to this place come June. 

    In other news, a few friends and I started going to this step-aerobics class that takes place every weekday night at the 'Arena' on campus.  We actually have to stay towards the back, and we have our own instructor because we're new, and we don't know the (at times extremely complicated) steps.  I'm learning, but my natural inability to maintain my balance is fighting against me.  I'm just not the most coordinated person.  But the real instructor is a super-energetic man with big curly hair and tight spandex outfits. He is the Irish's Richard Simmons. And my hero.

    I've finally got all of my schedule worked out, and I decided to drop my crazy German Lit class because I think it might have slowly killed me as the semester went on.  And it would have made it a lot harder to have actual fun, which is really the whole point of being here.  I mean, to hell if I'm going to just sit in my room studying all week when there's a whole country out there to see. 

  

    So now I am taking four classes: Consumption and Consumer Culture (a marketing class), EU Economic Environment, Government and Politics of Ireland (the class that instilled in me with the ability to spell terms such as Taoiseach, Dail, Fianna Fail, and Fine Gael without looking them up), and Traditional Irish Music (complete with an Irish Dance performance class, in which sixteen of us American girls all hop around in various formations, and I attempt to appear not completely hopeless and ungraceful). 

    Today we had a little adventure by going to the Cliffs of Moher.  The hour-and-a-half drive there took about two and a half hours because apparently our driver, James (who is the Irish house-mate of Kim, Lauren, and Katie), didn't think about google-mapping the route there or something.  But he asked for directions in some small towns, and finally found the place.  

   James then had a problem with the idea of paying €5 to park, so he just pulled over on the side of the road next to some gate into a farm.  We learned that being cheap doesn't pan out well, however, because when we came back a few hours later he had a parking ticket waiting for him.  Of all the possible differences in laws across the world, I'm glad to see that parking tickets are still handed out in mass quantities, even on little country roads in middle-of-nowhere Ireland. 

   The cliffs were really beautiful.  There was a spot where the official path sort of ended, because beyond it was too dangerous.  But since we're the brilliant people that we are, we hopped over the barrier like everyone else and walked along the edges of the 500-foot cliffs, with crazy strong gusts of wind blowing us about. 

Notice the people directly behind the sign.  And yeah, we joined them. Rebellious, I know. 

    Apparently it's one of the biggest places to commit suicide in Ireland.  I can't imagine jumping off one of those things, into the freezing water a million feet below. Not to mention the huge rocks in the water.  

The drop

   Not my ideal way to go.  But thankfully there were no jumpers on our visit. That might have put a damper on the beautiful views. 

"Give it a good pash then, girls!"

   Limerick is lovely!  I really adore the campus, I love my room, the people are great, and the city isn't too far.  

   Last weekend I went on a homestay to a small town near Kilmallock.  It was really relaxing and interesting.  My family owned a farm with about 50 cows.  The husband, Dom, was an ex-hurling champ (as in the sport, not the gag-reflex) who taught me about rugby and Gaelic football.  The wife, Doreen, took us shopping and made awesome amounts of delicious food.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time with them, and developed a very Irish weakness for tea and soda bread. 

   But this weekend, Kim, Katie, Lauren, and I decided to go explore some more of what Ireland has to offer by hopping a bus to Cork on Saturday.  It was a bit of a struggle on Saturday morning.  Kim and I had a sleepover (like the awesome 20-year-olds we are) on Friday night and ended up being late to catch our first bus, so we practically sprinted across campus to the bus stop.  A bunch of us had gone out on Thursday night to the Lodge and I hadn't really recovered sleep-wise yet.  I'm just not used to going to bed at three.  It doesn't suit me.

   After being on the bus to Cork for about 10 minutes, I was fully passed out - mouth hanging wide open, not a care in the world.  When we arrived, we navigated our way to our lovely little hostel which happened to be perched atop the HILL OF DEATH.  I swear, this street was at like, a 45-degree angle.  Poor city planning, if you ask me.  I had to lean forward like a hunchback to counteract the weight of my backpack, which was threatening to send me tumbling down the hill backwards. 

   After ditching our bags in the hostel's luggage room, we four walked back to the bus station and bought our tickets to Blarney.  This town is pretty adorable, and only about a 20-minute ride from Cork.  When we arrived, we followed the über-tourist-friendly "This way to Blarney Castle" signs to the Castle grounds.  The whole place - from the crumbling castle, to the green fields, to the little stream running around it all - was absolutely gorgeous.  I don't know how people can live or work in such a beautiful place everyday.

I mean, this is just ridiculous.

   We wandered around the castle for a bit, taking pictures of just about every blade of grass, and then turned into the castle.  From here my memory gets a little hazy, due to my fear-inspired adrenaline poisoning caused by climbing the super-tiny, winding stairs all the way up this huge castle.  I felt like I was going to fall backwards and tumble down all the stairs, or that maybe after hundreds of years, the stones in the wall would finally give way and would come crashing down to the ground.  And it really didn't help that the castle was made for Hobbit-sized olden-days Irish folk, because 5-foot 9 me was too tall for half the passageways in this ancient death-trap. 

   But we did make it up, followed by a couple of patient (but by then, probably also hard-of-hearing, thanks to the high-pitched panic of Lauren, Kim, and I) Australians guys. When we reached the top, the view was pretty amazing - not that I got exactly close enough to the edges on the battlements to look down and around all that often.  My sight was predominantly aimed downwards, towards my feet, in order to avoid tripping over anything that might cause a sudden and unavoidable fall to my death.

   Kissing the Blarney Stone was kind of the most terrifying experience ever.  I think the Australians were trying to ease the situation for us idiot-Americans when they told us to "give it a good pash then, girls."  I had no idea what this mean - but thanks to urbandictionary.com I have come to know that is is a kind of abbreviation for "passionate" and basically means to french-kiss.  In order to kiss this piece of rock, which is sticking out of the BOTTOM of the battlementy-thing in the wall, you lie on your back, hold onto two rails while a guy helps you slide back- and downwards. 

   Oh, and right below you is a gigantic drop that would end your life.  Never.  Again.  And then when I got up I tripped and almost fell down into the castle.  The camera-guy steadied me and had a good chuckle at my expense.  And I had been so careful.

   We then wandered the grounds some more.  I became obsessed with the trees here, climbed a few, frolicked across a grassy knoll, and saw the gorgeous Blarney house.  

   Eventually we went back to Cork, wandered around the shops, and ate a delicious meal at a little restaurant we found.  Then, because we were basically exhausted from the day, we went back to our hostel and were all passed out by 10 PM.  Yeah, we're livin' the life.

Our cute room.

The view by night, before we went to bed atrociously early.

   This morning we wandered around Cork some more, going to see the old Elizabeth Fort-turned-Garda station, along with Saint Fin Barre's Cathedral.  

Cork Street

   We shopped some more, wandered aimlessly for a while, then got back on a bus to Limerick.  It's good to be back, and it's really started to feel like home. 

That's class.

   I've been in Limerick for almost a week now, and am beginning to pick up some of the lingo. For instance, they use words like "class" to mean that something is awesome, and they say "grand" way too frequently for me not to make internal allusions to Jane Austen books.  And since I know you're all wondering, it's spelled "craic." And yes, they do say it constantly.  I think I'm going to try to bring this use of the word back with me to America...

   All the signs and whatnot here are written in both Irish and English.  

   But apparently they sometimes decide to do away with the English part all-together.  This might make things like finding the right bathroom in a small-town pub fairly interesting. 

   Classes began on Monday, but are not actually called classes. They're called modules, which makes me think of building blocks or Legos, but whatever. I've only actually had two so far. Yesterday I had a two-hour lecture for the History of Ireland: Revolution and Independence.  He threw all of these names around as if I'd been studying the troubles of Ireland for my entire life.  I spent most of the class trying to look moderately intelligent, laughing along with jokes I didn't get, and also trying to withhold yawns.

   The reason I was so tired is because Sunday night/Monday morning I couldn't sleep.  See, here in Ireland, Sunday night is the big night to go out to clubs and throw parties.  Yes, I think it's crazy, too.  I mean, Sunday? Really? Anyway, some friends and I opted to be less cool by just relaxing and watching the Lost season premier, while just about everyone else on campus was getting wasted the night before the first day of school.  Some of these lovely people later stood on their porch above my room yelling like lunatics until 4 AM.  Quaint. 

   Today I went to my first lecture in Marketing: Consumer Culture and Consumption, which seems like it will be pretty cool. It's basically about the reasons why people buy what they do. I am especially eager to lean why some feel the impulse to buy something as ungodly as, say, a pair knee-high gladiator sandals.  

   Right now, I think I am just stressed about classes overall. I don't want to take anything too hard, because I want to have fun while I'm here.  Also, I'm kind of lazy.  But at the same time, all of the classes I am interested in happen to be at the same time, and trying to work out my schedule is going to send me to an asylum, I swear.  

   My room is really nice, though.  I get my own bathroom! And a double bed!  I share a kitchen and living room with my five flat-mates. One is an American guy who came in the group with me, and then the others are Irish first-years (aka freshmen).  Three are girls who all play on the school's soccer team, and one is a guy who apparently gets drunk a lot and is a little crazy. But hey, they all seem pretty nice so far. 

   Where I live is about a ten-minute walk to the main part of campus, which is actually in a different county than my residence hall.  Most of the walk is comprised of crossing the River Shannon by way of the LONGEST BRIDGE EVER CREATED. 

Just the beginning of it, on the campus side. You can't even see the end!!

   It is already the bane of my existence, and I have to cross it at least twice every day.  With one especially strong gust of wind, that thing could literally be the death of me.

   I'll write more when I have something more interesting to say...

-B

Obama is Irish

   Or at least his great-great-great grandfather or something was. But the Irish love him.  And I am currently sitting in the basement of our Dublin youth hostel watching inauguration with the people in my group, and some random foreigners.  Aretha sang to us all on TV.  She wore a great hat.

   I finally got to meet all of my group when three of them rolled into my room at about 8:00 AM on Sunday.  Once I really woke up, I got to meet them and eventually the six others, making us Limerick folks a group of ten.  There are also four other girls going through orientation with us who are going to Ulster University, in Northern Ireland.

   We got started with the mass amounts of orienting later that Sunday, by going to lunch with the Arcadia staff.  Lots of jet-lag + meeting people = weird conversation.  

   Then we hung around the hostel talking some more.  Then all fourteen of us met up and tramped out into the Dublin streets and invaded a tiny restaurant called O'Shea's, but which was run by a little Indian woman.  Something tells me that she was not an O'Shea herself.

   Then we found a pub called Fitzgerald's where we watched the NFC Champ game because a lot of the group are from the East Coast, and one, Kristin, is from Philly.  So we all hung out there, and some of us got our first pints of Guinness.  And I know Temple Bar is an expensive area, but really, I think €4.60 for a beer is a bit much.

   The next day we were dragged out of our tightly-cramped hostel room early and set off for our first real day of orientation, which took place at the Arcadia Dublin office.  It's housed in the building where Samuel Beckett once lived. You quickly learn that just about everything here has some sort of historical significance.

   Afterwards, at about 2:30, we were released and provided with tickets for a bus tour where you "hop-on, hop-off" to the different destinations they bring you to.  It was great to see a bit more of Dublin.

 

The Dublin Castle

Christ Church Cathedral

   Then we made our way to the Guinness Storehouse! And on our way, what did we see?...

Ahhh, globalization.

   It was a really interesting place, you really big and full of information on the brewing process. You worked your way up through the levels, and then finally reach the "Gravity Bar" at the very top. It had an amaaaaaaazing view of Dublin and we all got our free drink!

   Today we had more orientation, then we were taken to lunch at a place where we felt way too underdressed, and then more orientation.  Finally we were released, have been watching inauguration, and in about an hour we're being taken to go see a play.  Then pubs? We'll see... It is our last night in Dublin, after all. 

-B

Dublin has seagulls!

   The past few days have been a complete whirlwind of preparations, packing, and mild panic (whoo for alliteration!).  I had to go all over Kansas City tracking down things that I might need while overseas.  I had Kim's help cramming as much as possible into my bags (which, I am proud to say, barely made it under the maximum combined total of 80 lbs).  I also made sure to appreciate the little things in life by committing myself to activities such as eating as much Lucky Charms cereal as possible during the days before I left.  I have the sneaking suspicion that this habit will not be able to continue here in Ireland.  They might look down on poor Lucky and his hearts, stars, and horseshoes.

   But finally, yesterday, or today, or sometime a while ago, I left cold, snowy Kansas City for colder Chicago.

I was not upset about leaving behind the crazy Midwestern weather.

   Then from Chicago, I got on my flight into Dublin. I spent most of the flight curled into a ball, trying to conform to the seats. And I got maybe an hour and a half of sleep in.  Finally we landed, and it was still dark.  The ramp-thing that connects the plane to the terminal was broken, so it took while to get off.  The repair people were actually busy repairing another ramp-thing, which makes me wonder about the overall safety and quality of said ramp-things. 

   I caught a bus into Dublin City Center and walked a bit to my hostel, which is bright blue.  I checked in and got some much needed help hauling my bags up the stairs to my room.

   I have a pretty view of the river from our window. I'm the first to arrive, so I have the four-bed room to myself for the day.

   My whole day today has been basically spent trying to stay awake.  I decided to go on a walk to Trinity College, which was a really pretty place.

   It's also a very confusing place, and I had trouble finding my way out.  I like to think that this was due to me being very sleepy, and not me being very stupid.

   Then I accomplished my one task for the day:  I bought a hairdryer and some towels.  This task was growing more and more dire as the day went on, because I was pretty gross from the traveling extravaganza. 

   I have found WiFi sanctuary in McDonalds.  The problem is that I feel like I have to buy something in order to use my computer here, which is a problem, because McDonalds food is pretty damn disgusting.  

   My current goal is to stay conscious until 8 PM, which I've officially deemed as a not-terribly-embarrassing time to pass out.  To wrap up, let's talk about some things I have learned so far.

1.  Of all the Irish accents, the voices of the McDonalds' employees here in Dublin are the most difficult to understand.  I was trying to get a simple hamburger, but I somehow ended up with a chicken finger meal. Suspicious...

2.  I think it's the stupidity kicking in again, but I did not realize that Dublin would have seagulls.  I mean, yes, it is right next to the water, but still.  Oh, and they're GIANT... and stare at you.

   Finally, the most important lesson:

3.  Crack means fun.  While buying towels, I got into a conversation with some guys who were ringing me up, and they commented on me being "not from 'round here", so I said that I'd just arrived and would be in Dublin for a few days.  They started suggesting places to go.  Guy A said something about some place that I cannot really remember.  My lack of memory probably stems from the fact that I was so surprised by what Guy B added to this.  "Oh (place Guy A mentioned)? Yeah, there's a lot of crack to be had there."  At this point, disturbing images of the Paseo were coming to my mind.  I must have looked extremely confused, because Guy A had to stop to explain that, somehow, the word crack is slang for "fun" in the local lingo.  It might have a different spelling than crack, but it made me wonder if other words, such as heroin or LSD, translate to be equally enjoyable. 

Until next time and place,

B