I forgot to mention that on Monday night, Shaina, Ethan, and I went to a ceili mor (a big dance) with lots of live musicians and fun at the College Bar. Shaina and I joined in the set dancing and "danced a fiery dance" as Richard Harris might say. We had many exuberant fellow dancers, and the dance itself involved lots of hopping about and spinning, so much fun was had by all =)
Also, I have another odd commercial to recount to you: in this one, a small boy tells his Mum that he has to "make a poo," and she indulgently takes him by the hand to lead him, presumably, up to the bathroom, but he recoils and says vehemently that "No! I want to make a poo at (insert friend's name here)'s!" It turns out that friend's mom buys Glade fresheners for their bathroom. Can't beat that logic.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Cork continued... finally
Sorry for the delay - again, not trying to assume that reading my blog fills up a fun portion of your day - but I have finally returned to finish the saga of Cork. So, we left the little girls behind (judging by their sweatsuits and eye makeup, they were getting ready for/had just come from a cheerleading or dance squad thing), and they, of course, laughed again. By this time we had heard from Shaina and Anne, who were now waiting for their train back on Fota. To wait for them, we decided to hike up to the incredible Cathedral that dominates the skyline of the town. I hope you've seen my pictures (yes, they're all up now), because it was a beautiful beautiful place. Of course, just getting there was a workout. In order to get there, we had to trek a giant hill, using leg muscles we didn't even know we had, wishing for a handrail or, better yet, an escalator system. TOTALLY worth it, because the Cathedral (St. Colman's) was stunning, and the sun came out whilst we stood atop the holy plateau, shimmering over the sea and nearby islands. I took lots of pictures, but you'll forgive me when you understand that we hadn't seen the sun in days - hence the "basking" pictures. Sidenote: I do hope you read the captions on the pictures... they're very edifying. Since a cryptic sign on the front doors falsely led us around to the side, we took a few minutes to simply soak in the vitamin D.
We eventually figured out the sign's instructions (By "please use side doors," it was referring, not to doors on the side of the building, but to the doors flanking the central one. Have I mentioned we hadn't seen the sun in days?) and entered the church, which fairly took one's breath away. I'll direct you to the pictures here, but remember as always that the pictures can never quite capture it. We eventually descended back to Cobh proper, and, after a brief meeting with Shaina and Anne in which they decided to eat and we decided to go to a nearby park, we went again to bask. The park was lovely itself, right on the water with a wonderful huge gazebo and benches, and a statue of a man's torso in a boat, holding a paper (well, metal of course, but you understand) boat in his hands, looking out over the water. He's called "The Navigator," and I was very fond of him. The sun was holding strong, so we remained on the benches there for a while, listening to the wide range of accents and languages being spoken around us by the families strolling through. Swarms of young boys about 10 or 11 (hoodlums, we termed them affectionately) ran through the park, climbing atop my Navigator friend - children here tend to run in large packs far more frequently than they do at home.
After meeting up again with the others, and a bit more wandering, we took the train back past our hut at the Fota station where we had waited in the rain, back past the bridge that had reflected so fetchingly in the river, back to Cork. Some more wandering commenced, some pizza was eaten, and we were lured into the pub a few doors down from our hostel by its sign promising us coffee with Baileys. MMM, delicious. Shaina had her first alcoholic beverage ever (a Guinness), and we all relaxed on the squashy couch near the heater/fireplace thing. The night was actually still young at this point, but we returned to the hostel to spend some quality time in the common room. The highlight of the evening there, I somewhat hesitate to recount, was a series of epic games of "Timberrr" played by Julie and Jaye. Timberrr is the same as Jenga, only more fun because the box told us about the "beautiful hardwood pieces" we would be building with... in reality my old Lincoln Logs were more elegant, but that's neither here nor there.
The next morning we departed early for Blarney. The day remained cold and cloudy, but castles usually look even cooler on a melancholy day, don't you feel? Blarney sits atop a rocky base, which is full of niches, caves, and other fun things. There's a dungeon that you can go a little way through, until your backpacks can fit no further and you're sick to death of water dripping on you. We ascended the narrowest staircase you can imagine, pretty much hauling ourselves up by the rope that hung down through the center of the spiral. When we reached the top floor but one, where the kitchen was, Julie almost had to abandon her backpack because it would no longer fit up the staircase. After much cajoling, she forced her way up, and we reached the turreted roof. The merry men who dangle you upside down over a hole in the floor a long long way from the ground were ready to receive us. One of them, the younger, wore a Yankee hat, so I was reassured. Still, the kissing of the stone went off without a hitch - I was the first to go, and it was easier than expected, and also not scary. The view from the top of the castle (once one was standing, of course) was lovely, stretching away until the mist took the edges of it. When we had finished, we descended the "Down" staircase, which was much more spacious than the "Up," and came out into the park. Once again, we had split earlier into two groups by virtue of the pace at which we wanted to go, etc., so the Js and I moved off to explore the wachtower while Anne and Shaina were still somewhere in the castle. After trying (very unsuccessfully) to climb her way along a series of small niches on the wall of the inside of the tower, Julie settled for climbing the outside. We then explored the "prettyish kind of wilderness" on the side of the castle, which included a super-fun Badger Cave that you could stoop through for quite a ways back into the hill, although Jaye almost lost a foot in the mud. Once we had finished, we went on into the village for some lunch while Shaina and Anne continued their nature rambles. They joined us a bit later in a wonderful cafe before we bussed back to Cork, and thence home to Galway (with a small bag of mini Cadbury eggs each, I might add).
Last weekend I stayed in Galway in an attempt to save money for our trip to Paris next weekend, but Shaina, Kristen, and I went into town to check out the outdoor market, which is very cute and full of fun and delicious things (I got a chocolate-and almond pocket, which means it was all wrapped up in bread with liberal amounts of powdered sugar dusted over). We also did a little shopping (I got some much-needed jeans for the excellent price of 9 Euro, and jeans here fit me better! Huzzah!) and in our travels I THINK I saw the woman who plays Sarah, a character on Ros na Run, which is the Irish-language soap that my Irish class in Pittsburgh (as well as many other people, of course) watches. It was really exciting, but I didn't talk to her. Still, one of these days I plan to go to the village where they film the show (rather nearby) and see if I can get anywhere near the set to check it out. Tomorrow I am fully releasing, unashamedly, my geeky nature and attending an 11-11 Lord of the Rings marathon on campus as a part of Muscailt, a week-long arts/theatre/music festival. Scorn if you like, but I remain undaunted.
We eventually figured out the sign's instructions (By "please use side doors," it was referring, not to doors on the side of the building, but to the doors flanking the central one. Have I mentioned we hadn't seen the sun in days?) and entered the church, which fairly took one's breath away. I'll direct you to the pictures here, but remember as always that the pictures can never quite capture it. We eventually descended back to Cobh proper, and, after a brief meeting with Shaina and Anne in which they decided to eat and we decided to go to a nearby park, we went again to bask. The park was lovely itself, right on the water with a wonderful huge gazebo and benches, and a statue of a man's torso in a boat, holding a paper (well, metal of course, but you understand) boat in his hands, looking out over the water. He's called "The Navigator," and I was very fond of him. The sun was holding strong, so we remained on the benches there for a while, listening to the wide range of accents and languages being spoken around us by the families strolling through. Swarms of young boys about 10 or 11 (hoodlums, we termed them affectionately) ran through the park, climbing atop my Navigator friend - children here tend to run in large packs far more frequently than they do at home.
After meeting up again with the others, and a bit more wandering, we took the train back past our hut at the Fota station where we had waited in the rain, back past the bridge that had reflected so fetchingly in the river, back to Cork. Some more wandering commenced, some pizza was eaten, and we were lured into the pub a few doors down from our hostel by its sign promising us coffee with Baileys. MMM, delicious. Shaina had her first alcoholic beverage ever (a Guinness), and we all relaxed on the squashy couch near the heater/fireplace thing. The night was actually still young at this point, but we returned to the hostel to spend some quality time in the common room. The highlight of the evening there, I somewhat hesitate to recount, was a series of epic games of "Timberrr" played by Julie and Jaye. Timberrr is the same as Jenga, only more fun because the box told us about the "beautiful hardwood pieces" we would be building with... in reality my old Lincoln Logs were more elegant, but that's neither here nor there.
The next morning we departed early for Blarney. The day remained cold and cloudy, but castles usually look even cooler on a melancholy day, don't you feel? Blarney sits atop a rocky base, which is full of niches, caves, and other fun things. There's a dungeon that you can go a little way through, until your backpacks can fit no further and you're sick to death of water dripping on you. We ascended the narrowest staircase you can imagine, pretty much hauling ourselves up by the rope that hung down through the center of the spiral. When we reached the top floor but one, where the kitchen was, Julie almost had to abandon her backpack because it would no longer fit up the staircase. After much cajoling, she forced her way up, and we reached the turreted roof. The merry men who dangle you upside down over a hole in the floor a long long way from the ground were ready to receive us. One of them, the younger, wore a Yankee hat, so I was reassured. Still, the kissing of the stone went off without a hitch - I was the first to go, and it was easier than expected, and also not scary. The view from the top of the castle (once one was standing, of course) was lovely, stretching away until the mist took the edges of it. When we had finished, we descended the "Down" staircase, which was much more spacious than the "Up," and came out into the park. Once again, we had split earlier into two groups by virtue of the pace at which we wanted to go, etc., so the Js and I moved off to explore the wachtower while Anne and Shaina were still somewhere in the castle. After trying (very unsuccessfully) to climb her way along a series of small niches on the wall of the inside of the tower, Julie settled for climbing the outside. We then explored the "prettyish kind of wilderness" on the side of the castle, which included a super-fun Badger Cave that you could stoop through for quite a ways back into the hill, although Jaye almost lost a foot in the mud. Once we had finished, we went on into the village for some lunch while Shaina and Anne continued their nature rambles. They joined us a bit later in a wonderful cafe before we bussed back to Cork, and thence home to Galway (with a small bag of mini Cadbury eggs each, I might add).
Last weekend I stayed in Galway in an attempt to save money for our trip to Paris next weekend, but Shaina, Kristen, and I went into town to check out the outdoor market, which is very cute and full of fun and delicious things (I got a chocolate-and almond pocket, which means it was all wrapped up in bread with liberal amounts of powdered sugar dusted over). We also did a little shopping (I got some much-needed jeans for the excellent price of 9 Euro, and jeans here fit me better! Huzzah!) and in our travels I THINK I saw the woman who plays Sarah, a character on Ros na Run, which is the Irish-language soap that my Irish class in Pittsburgh (as well as many other people, of course) watches. It was really exciting, but I didn't talk to her. Still, one of these days I plan to go to the village where they film the show (rather nearby) and see if I can get anywhere near the set to check it out. Tomorrow I am fully releasing, unashamedly, my geeky nature and attending an 11-11 Lord of the Rings marathon on campus as a part of Muscailt, a week-long arts/theatre/music festival. Scorn if you like, but I remain undaunted.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Cork and its environs
Cork sucks. No, not really, but that was our mantra for the second half of the weekend. Everything we went to was gorgeous and fun and wonderful, but we just didn't mesh with Cork city. Maybe it was too big after the coziness of Galway, maybe it was the swarms of obnoxious teenagers that were EVERYWHERE, maybe it was the lack of an interesting nightlife for college-age kids... whatever it was, we found ourselves homesick... for Galway. But we still had a wonderful time, so I'll leave behind the doom section of my tale and move on to happier descriptions. We got into Cork at about 8:30 Friday night and quickly found our hostel, the Bru, which was conveniently located a block from the bus station and only a couple blocks from the city center. Shaina, Anne, and I were in one room (a 4-person), and Jaye and Julie were in another (a six-person). Ideally, of course, we would have all been together, but Jaye and Julie only decided to join us last minute, after we had booked our room. Anyway, we shared a room with a mysterious New Zealand girl who we only saw once or twice because she worked from 6pm to 3am or something crazy like that. She was pretty much moved in because she was living there for 6 months. Now, this hostel was not an awful place, but I could NOT live there for six months. Ever. Julie and Jaye shared a room with four boys, two from Italy, one from Australia, and another guy. The Australian had a tendency to walk around in his boxer briefs a lot, apparently.
We were starving by this point, so we set out to do some foraging. There were many restaurants on our street, but most were either closed or too swanky for our budgets. We ended up at Subway, which honestly hit the spot. Fortified, we set out to explore the town, which apparently becomes abandoned by 9 o'clock. Still, the very large main roads are connected by smaller routes that have pubs and clubs along them. We were just the wrong age for Cork. Where we later saw crowds of teenagers, at night there were crowds of 30- to 40-year-olds. I have no problem with this age group, of course, but it just makes for a different dynamic. Galway is full of college kids, which might make some of you run away screaming, but for us it's perfect. We eventually found a low-key pub to hang out in for a bit, then we headed back to the hostel. Of course, after wandering around, we were now lost and spent a good bit of time REwandering the streets before we eventually found our way back.
Next morning we planned to take the train to nearby Cobh and Fota Island nature preserve. Fota Island is a really cool place where you can just ramble through the woods or pay to get into the other side, where they have animals. First we rambled through the mud and nature, having a grand old time bushwhacking and exploring. Shaina and Anne wanted to go to the animal place, but Julie, Jaye, and I didn't really feel like paying, so we caught the next train and headed down to Cobh, and the other two were going to meet us there later. Cobh (pronounced "cove") is absolutely stunning. It's set right against the water and built all up this big hill. The houses are multicolored to the extreme, and there are lots of fun shops and restaurants and things. The Titanic stopped at Cobh before heading out, so they have a Titanic museum and lots of memorabilia around, and they also have a statue for the Lusitania. After exploring a bit, we went to get some lunch in a little restaurant decorated with a fascinating mix of African decor, Christmas baubles, and Titanic stuff. The tablecloths had pictures of various kinds of chocolate. Still, we got burgers, and they were delicious. Two younger girls came in after us, and they were locals. They spent some time glancing over at us and whispering about us... "Are they Polish?" Before finally figuring out we were Americans, the discovery of which drove them into uproarious laughter. They eventually broke the ice: "What brings you to Cobh?" We told them how we were students in Galway, visiting Cork, wanted to see the village, so pretty, etc. "... but why Cobh?" We said it was so pretty and such a cool town, and they rolled their eyes. They also had trouble understanding why we were in Ireland for college in the first place. Then they tried to bum fags from us.
Class time... to be continued
We were starving by this point, so we set out to do some foraging. There were many restaurants on our street, but most were either closed or too swanky for our budgets. We ended up at Subway, which honestly hit the spot. Fortified, we set out to explore the town, which apparently becomes abandoned by 9 o'clock. Still, the very large main roads are connected by smaller routes that have pubs and clubs along them. We were just the wrong age for Cork. Where we later saw crowds of teenagers, at night there were crowds of 30- to 40-year-olds. I have no problem with this age group, of course, but it just makes for a different dynamic. Galway is full of college kids, which might make some of you run away screaming, but for us it's perfect. We eventually found a low-key pub to hang out in for a bit, then we headed back to the hostel. Of course, after wandering around, we were now lost and spent a good bit of time REwandering the streets before we eventually found our way back.
Next morning we planned to take the train to nearby Cobh and Fota Island nature preserve. Fota Island is a really cool place where you can just ramble through the woods or pay to get into the other side, where they have animals. First we rambled through the mud and nature, having a grand old time bushwhacking and exploring. Shaina and Anne wanted to go to the animal place, but Julie, Jaye, and I didn't really feel like paying, so we caught the next train and headed down to Cobh, and the other two were going to meet us there later. Cobh (pronounced "cove") is absolutely stunning. It's set right against the water and built all up this big hill. The houses are multicolored to the extreme, and there are lots of fun shops and restaurants and things. The Titanic stopped at Cobh before heading out, so they have a Titanic museum and lots of memorabilia around, and they also have a statue for the Lusitania. After exploring a bit, we went to get some lunch in a little restaurant decorated with a fascinating mix of African decor, Christmas baubles, and Titanic stuff. The tablecloths had pictures of various kinds of chocolate. Still, we got burgers, and they were delicious. Two younger girls came in after us, and they were locals. They spent some time glancing over at us and whispering about us... "Are they Polish?" Before finally figuring out we were Americans, the discovery of which drove them into uproarious laughter. They eventually broke the ice: "What brings you to Cobh?" We told them how we were students in Galway, visiting Cork, wanted to see the village, so pretty, etc. "... but why Cobh?" We said it was so pretty and such a cool town, and they rolled their eyes. They also had trouble understanding why we were in Ireland for college in the first place. Then they tried to bum fags from us.
Class time... to be continued
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Co. Clare Excursion
So, on Sunday, we (that is, the API group) were taken on a tour of East County Clare, heading to Bunratty Castle and folk park, Kilmacduagh Monastery, and Coole Park. We drove first to Bunratty Castle, built in 1425 and refurbished within the last couple centuries. It was the home of the O'Briens (descendants of the high king Brian Boru), Earls of Thomond, until it fell into disrepair around the 17th century. Now it's been fancified with all sorts of gorgeous Medieval furnishings and tapestries, although not all Irish, sadly. Still, you get the feeling of the times. There were gigantic, perfectly preserved antlers of Irish Elk (long extinct) on the walls that were found in a bog. Isn't that just cool? You also get an idea of how much shorter everyone was then! Doorways were tiny, and the spiral staircases barely held the boys - you had to call up the stairs when you wanted to ascend to make sure no one was coming down already, and vice versa. Being in places like this is incredible to me, as an American, because of how very old they are. We barely have buildings from the 18th century at home, let alone the 15th! (or the 7th, like the tower at Kilmacduagh) It's just mind-boggling sometimes. Anyway, the castle has several staircases all branching out from the Great Hall, and they have lots of rooms decorated that you can walk through and photograph. One of the rooms above was the Ladies' Gallery, where they could hang out and, through a small square hole in the wall, watch what the men were up to in the Great Hall below. After the castle tour we walked around the village, set up to look like old-timey Ireland. We were much taken with the farm animals, which is why you'll see quite a few pictures of them. Short anecdote: about two minutes after I took the picture of the ducks, who were standing right next to our group as we admired the pigs and things, the male duck (the darker one) leaped upon the female duck and... well, you know. We were all rather taken aback, as you can imagine.
Then it was finally time for lunch, so we put that incident out of our minds and drove to the village of Gort. We ate at Supermacs, which is a fast food chain with very tasty food. We filled the restaurant. Trays upon trays of chips (fries, to you Americans) were frantically brought out to us (imagine, if you can, the anchovies swarming in that memorable first episode of Spongebob Squarepants). Later, when no one had ketchup, I went up to the counter to ask and received a box full of packets. I turned around and asked if anyone wanted ketchup, and about 2.5 seconds later I was left holding the box with three lone packets remaining.
Kilmacduagh is made up of a round tower (that now leans to the side) that was constructed in the 7th century as a safe place for the treasure and manuscripts of the monks against the threat of the Vikings, who nevertheless succeeded in pillaging and looting. There is a monastery, chapel, and bishop's residence right around the tower, all from between the 14th and 16th centuries, I believe, and all now in a ruined state. Cows grazed next to one, sheep another. All around the tower is a cemetery filled with the gorgeous high crosses you saw so many of in my pictures. Ireland is remarkable in many ways, one of which is that you can drive along past ordinary houses and fields, then suddenly you come upon a stunning place like this, with stretches of nothing to either side, and beyond that more ordinary houses. They just set up the new stuff next to the old, no problem. I love it here.
Coole Park was the home of Lady Gregory and was something like the Mecca of Irish writers: William Butler Yeats, George Bernard Shaw, J.M. Synge (everyone with three names!) would come to the Park to hang out, soak up the tranquility, and write brilliant things. The house no longer stands (as a sign of English nobility in its design, I am given to understand, it was apparently destroyed by angry mobbing poor people during some time of oppression or another), but the park and turlough (lake) are kept up and open to the public. Many many families bring their bike-riding children to travel along the trails (all the bikes were pink, I should add) and picnic on the lawn. The autograph tree was very exciting to see, as it holds the initials of all these famous personages. We went into the woods to walk the trails down to the lake, and Finn took us into a fairy ring (with fun curvy trees!) to make a wish. The woods are spectacular, as I have rhapsodized in an earlier post (it was late at night when I originally wrote that...) and the lake incredibly tranquil. All in all, it was a marvelous day in all senses of the word.
I also started archery this week, which was very fun. I could use some more work. Still, everyone in the club is friendly and has a good time, so there was no pressure. I just happened to be in a group with naturally talented people - had I been in the group next to us, I would have been stellar by comparison. Ah well. No more posts for a few days... Shaina, Julie, Jaye (all API girls), Anne (Shaina's flatmate), and I are going to Cork for the weekend!
Then it was finally time for lunch, so we put that incident out of our minds and drove to the village of Gort. We ate at Supermacs, which is a fast food chain with very tasty food. We filled the restaurant. Trays upon trays of chips (fries, to you Americans) were frantically brought out to us (imagine, if you can, the anchovies swarming in that memorable first episode of Spongebob Squarepants). Later, when no one had ketchup, I went up to the counter to ask and received a box full of packets. I turned around and asked if anyone wanted ketchup, and about 2.5 seconds later I was left holding the box with three lone packets remaining.
Kilmacduagh is made up of a round tower (that now leans to the side) that was constructed in the 7th century as a safe place for the treasure and manuscripts of the monks against the threat of the Vikings, who nevertheless succeeded in pillaging and looting. There is a monastery, chapel, and bishop's residence right around the tower, all from between the 14th and 16th centuries, I believe, and all now in a ruined state. Cows grazed next to one, sheep another. All around the tower is a cemetery filled with the gorgeous high crosses you saw so many of in my pictures. Ireland is remarkable in many ways, one of which is that you can drive along past ordinary houses and fields, then suddenly you come upon a stunning place like this, with stretches of nothing to either side, and beyond that more ordinary houses. They just set up the new stuff next to the old, no problem. I love it here.
Coole Park was the home of Lady Gregory and was something like the Mecca of Irish writers: William Butler Yeats, George Bernard Shaw, J.M. Synge (everyone with three names!) would come to the Park to hang out, soak up the tranquility, and write brilliant things. The house no longer stands (as a sign of English nobility in its design, I am given to understand, it was apparently destroyed by angry mobbing poor people during some time of oppression or another), but the park and turlough (lake) are kept up and open to the public. Many many families bring their bike-riding children to travel along the trails (all the bikes were pink, I should add) and picnic on the lawn. The autograph tree was very exciting to see, as it holds the initials of all these famous personages. We went into the woods to walk the trails down to the lake, and Finn took us into a fairy ring (with fun curvy trees!) to make a wish. The woods are spectacular, as I have rhapsodized in an earlier post (it was late at night when I originally wrote that...) and the lake incredibly tranquil. All in all, it was a marvelous day in all senses of the word.
I also started archery this week, which was very fun. I could use some more work. Still, everyone in the club is friendly and has a good time, so there was no pressure. I just happened to be in a group with naturally talented people - had I been in the group next to us, I would have been stellar by comparison. Ah well. No more posts for a few days... Shaina, Julie, Jaye (all API girls), Anne (Shaina's flatmate), and I are going to Cork for the weekend!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
A Swaggle of Swans
The visual evidence of my exploration from yesterday (including my swan fascination) is in the "Galway Pt. 2" album on shutterfly. In case you wanted to see it. The pictures of the sea are quite lovely, if I do say so myself.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Ealai and more sightseeing
Today I made some new friends: Virgil and Enid. I had some free time in the afternoon, so I decided to walk along the other side of the bay that I hadn't really seen yet. As I was walking along, I came to a spot on the river where some of the smaller boats are tied up, and all around - swimming in the water, walking along the wall and sidewalk - are dozens and dozens of birds! Swans, seagulls, pigeons, and other seabirds just hanging around, preening, poking each other and whatnot. I didn't really linger, but took some pictures and moved on. As I kept walking, I saw, backed by the mountains across the bay, a lighthouse I never knew existed. So I strolled that way and discovered a long concourse leading out the the lighthouse, flanked on either side by rocks (it was low tide) and, farther out, the sea. There were also several people (it looked like a family) climbing around in the rocks gathering mussels or something along those lines. It was so lovely to smell the sea! You'd think, being right on the bay, you'd smell it all the time, but you really don't. Only when I got to the beginning of the concourse, which seems to be a popular walking spot for the people of Galway, could I really smell the salt tang. You can only walk so far along the concourse, so you can't actually get to the lighthouse, but it was so pretty! On my long walk back I decided to sit on a rock near where all the birds were and just look out over the water, and that's where I met my new friends. They are, of course, swans (ealai), and not people, but we bonded anyway. Virgil had a bad wing but a neck like rubber, which he used to great effect in cleaning every part of his back and his neck itself. He was sitting about three feet from me, but luckily the birds here, as I mentioned, are pretty mellow and not prone to attacking random bystanders. Enid sat a little behind him, closer to the edge of the wall and the water. When Virgil stood up a little later, he walked over to Enid and poked her in the back, but she was unmoved. Ice queen.
Saturday we went on a tour of the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher. Our bus driver and tour guide was Desmond, who was an adorable old man with a slightly dirty mind who knew everything about everything he showed us and had a slight habit of repeating sentences. When we left Galway, it was a beautiful sunny morning. As we drove along, the sky turned dark dark gray and it started raining. As we came in sight of our first photo stop (Dunguaire Castle), it was starting to clear, and a few minutes later it was a beautiful day again. After we left it stayed cloudy the rest of the day, but at least it didn't rain anymore. We saw some really beautiful countryside and adorable towns. One of my pictures is a sort of blurry shot of a man waving, surrounded by sheep. He had been feeding them in the pasture adjacent to his house, and as a unit the girls on the bus all exclaimed over the adorable lambs that were running up to him for food. Of course, the entire side of the bus whipped out cameras to photograph said cuteness and, noticing this unabashed display of tourism, the man waved cheerily at us. The Burren is a really incredible area just covered in limestone left over from the Ice Age glaciers and is the home of Poulnabrone, the tomb you saw photographed. I was just typing out the details of ancient Celtic burial practices, but thought better of it.
After a delicious lunch at O'Connor's pub in Doolin (whose walls are covered with police and fireman patches, many from Massachusetts, as Ethan was pleased to discover) we headed out to the Cliffs of Moher, which are really just incredibly stunning, and you really all need to go see them if you haven't yet. It was very windy by O'Brien's Tower (especially when you walked through the little doorway), but it wasn't nearly windy enough for us to worry about being blown off. O'Brien's Tower is to the right, and if you go to the left you eventually reach a stone wall with signs telling you that you can't come over here because of danger or something. Obviously, we climbed over. Here it was a mud path - the rest was paved - and there was no guardrail, so you could get right up to the edge. One of the other API boys who was there, Dan (or D-Mac), sat right on the edge with his feet dangling off. There were a couple other groups who had flouted the sign as well, but it's sort of the off-season now. I'm sure during the height of tourist time they actually enforce the danger zone. We made it home in the end (the roads are all very narrow, and Desmond drives like a maniac) and spent a quiet evening eating food and (for me and the boys) preparing for Sunday's outing.
Saturday we went on a tour of the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher. Our bus driver and tour guide was Desmond, who was an adorable old man with a slightly dirty mind who knew everything about everything he showed us and had a slight habit of repeating sentences. When we left Galway, it was a beautiful sunny morning. As we drove along, the sky turned dark dark gray and it started raining. As we came in sight of our first photo stop (Dunguaire Castle), it was starting to clear, and a few minutes later it was a beautiful day again. After we left it stayed cloudy the rest of the day, but at least it didn't rain anymore. We saw some really beautiful countryside and adorable towns. One of my pictures is a sort of blurry shot of a man waving, surrounded by sheep. He had been feeding them in the pasture adjacent to his house, and as a unit the girls on the bus all exclaimed over the adorable lambs that were running up to him for food. Of course, the entire side of the bus whipped out cameras to photograph said cuteness and, noticing this unabashed display of tourism, the man waved cheerily at us. The Burren is a really incredible area just covered in limestone left over from the Ice Age glaciers and is the home of Poulnabrone, the tomb you saw photographed. I was just typing out the details of ancient Celtic burial practices, but thought better of it.
After a delicious lunch at O'Connor's pub in Doolin (whose walls are covered with police and fireman patches, many from Massachusetts, as Ethan was pleased to discover) we headed out to the Cliffs of Moher, which are really just incredibly stunning, and you really all need to go see them if you haven't yet. It was very windy by O'Brien's Tower (especially when you walked through the little doorway), but it wasn't nearly windy enough for us to worry about being blown off. O'Brien's Tower is to the right, and if you go to the left you eventually reach a stone wall with signs telling you that you can't come over here because of danger or something. Obviously, we climbed over. Here it was a mud path - the rest was paved - and there was no guardrail, so you could get right up to the edge. One of the other API boys who was there, Dan (or D-Mac), sat right on the edge with his feet dangling off. There were a couple other groups who had flouted the sign as well, but it's sort of the off-season now. I'm sure during the height of tourist time they actually enforce the danger zone. We made it home in the end (the roads are all very narrow, and Desmond drives like a maniac) and spent a quiet evening eating food and (for me and the boys) preparing for Sunday's outing.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sightseeing, Pt. 1
This weekend was full of sightseeing and fun things, and I'll give you more actual details about my trips later on today or tomorrow, but for now I need to ramble for a bit. Just to warn you. Pictures can’t really do this country justice. I know that sounds trite, but it truly is that way. I look at the pictures I have, and they’re gorgeous, but the actual thing was far more intricately beautiful, full of little things, and so connected to the entire setting, not just what you can capture within the frame. For example, standing on the Cliffs of Moher: in the pictures, you realize that they are very tall, but then you look along the tops and realize that those weird little dot things are people walking along. After we hopped the fence and started walking along the mud path on the section of the Cliffs with no guardrail (standing just a little too close to the edge for pure safety, but a perfect distance for pure thrill), you see how far down it is, how that little white thing halfway down is a gull flying, and far below are huge waves sending spray. Pictures of the water show waves moving around, but the actual crash – far taller than a house – is just breathtaking in its savagery.
Sometimes, driving along, I can forget for a second that I’m in Ireland, because we’re passing a development that would be at home in New Jersey, or a section of trees and plant life like anything you see along 81, but then suddenly you come across a small cottage – architecturally in the old style, although the roof is no longer thatched – with a car in the driveway, and the half-ruined remains of a pre-famine house in the side yard. Acres of small stone-wall-enclosed pastures house groups of sheep or cows, occasionally horses. When you come into mountain country and the Burren, the limestone is everywhere, sheeting the ground and glistening from the damp. When you walk on it, it is pitted and swirled, with perfectly circular pools of water sunk into the stone and its edges worn into intricate waves. Lines running up the mountains are Famine walls, built by starving sufferers looking for a day’s wage from a government that would give no handouts, only pointless labor so the money would be “earned.”
I took a million pictures at Kilmacduagh Monastery, where the crosses fill the graveyard and the tower leans a bit to one side, but the crosses - some centuries old, and most covered in white lichen, which shows the purity of the air – against the tower needed to be shown from every side. Walking among the crosses, you hold your breath slightly from the solemnity of it all, until the sheep across the wall start calling to you.
In Coole Park, the pictures show the forest, but they can’t fully capture the rocks lining the path, each covered in a soft green moss, with a stream of ivy coming from somewhere to flow over it. The pathway is rocky, but the thin layer of moss makes it feel like a carpet. The sun slanting in onto the ivy glistens slightly next to the dark shadows where the trees stand. We hop a stone wall to get close to the lake, and looking out over the still water the sun falls at just the right angle through the trees around you, and the softest breeze moves through the tall, damp grass at your feet as ducks fly in formation over the ruins across the water. There are trees in the forest that are several trunks in one, splitting and twisting out into magnificent spreads of dark, rich wood, large enough to live in, if you wanted. When Finn takes us into a fairy ring where the trees bend out in a strange way, you half expect to see a little fairy face peeking out at you. Being at Coole, I can understand why Yeats, Shaw, and Synge came here so often to unwind and to write – we all agree that if we had that place to visit, we would all write beautiful poetry too. It’s in the air – I don’t think you could help it.
Sometimes, driving along, I can forget for a second that I’m in Ireland, because we’re passing a development that would be at home in New Jersey, or a section of trees and plant life like anything you see along 81, but then suddenly you come across a small cottage – architecturally in the old style, although the roof is no longer thatched – with a car in the driveway, and the half-ruined remains of a pre-famine house in the side yard. Acres of small stone-wall-enclosed pastures house groups of sheep or cows, occasionally horses. When you come into mountain country and the Burren, the limestone is everywhere, sheeting the ground and glistening from the damp. When you walk on it, it is pitted and swirled, with perfectly circular pools of water sunk into the stone and its edges worn into intricate waves. Lines running up the mountains are Famine walls, built by starving sufferers looking for a day’s wage from a government that would give no handouts, only pointless labor so the money would be “earned.”
I took a million pictures at Kilmacduagh Monastery, where the crosses fill the graveyard and the tower leans a bit to one side, but the crosses - some centuries old, and most covered in white lichen, which shows the purity of the air – against the tower needed to be shown from every side. Walking among the crosses, you hold your breath slightly from the solemnity of it all, until the sheep across the wall start calling to you.
In Coole Park, the pictures show the forest, but they can’t fully capture the rocks lining the path, each covered in a soft green moss, with a stream of ivy coming from somewhere to flow over it. The pathway is rocky, but the thin layer of moss makes it feel like a carpet. The sun slanting in onto the ivy glistens slightly next to the dark shadows where the trees stand. We hop a stone wall to get close to the lake, and looking out over the still water the sun falls at just the right angle through the trees around you, and the softest breeze moves through the tall, damp grass at your feet as ducks fly in formation over the ruins across the water. There are trees in the forest that are several trunks in one, splitting and twisting out into magnificent spreads of dark, rich wood, large enough to live in, if you wanted. When Finn takes us into a fairy ring where the trees bend out in a strange way, you half expect to see a little fairy face peeking out at you. Being at Coole, I can understand why Yeats, Shaw, and Synge came here so often to unwind and to write – we all agree that if we had that place to visit, we would all write beautiful poetry too. It’s in the air – I don’t think you could help it.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Some observations
Just a few things about Ireland I feel like talking about: walking, fashion, and commercials. I really do love it here, and there are many cultural differences that I find really cool and interesting. Some, of course, are weird, but that comes with the territory. I've only been here for three weeks - I certainly haven't seen much yet, but there are some trends I've been picking up on, and I like you all to feel connected, so I'm going to share.
Coming to Ireland, I knew they drove on the left side of the road, all strange-like. What I didn't realize was that this translates to them walking on the left as well. We do the same thing at home: drive on the right, walk on the right - down the sidewalk, up the stairs, etc. It's a very strange sensation, and even though I try to walk on the left, in solidarity, I always eventually drift back to the right. It feels counterintuitive, especially when on stairwells. Of course, just like in America, you get plenty of people walking wherever the heck they feel like all over the sidewalk, but the general trend is to walk to the left side.
Fashion here looks similar to what you see on American college campuses, albeit with far fewer people wearing sweats (and almost no one in pajamas). One of the biggest looks for girls is a dress or skirt with colored leggings or black tights and boots or flats. You see this look at home too, but most girls here seem to dress like this. For both girls and guys their clothes fit a little closer, or the fit is a little better. They told us this in our preparatory packets, and I shrugged it off, but it really is true! They just look nicer, on the whole. Many of the boys also coif a little more here, with the spiky look being popular. Mike and Ethan find this amusing.
Finally, commercials. Commercials here are weird. They are often rather horrific, or really obnoxious, or mystifying because the commercial had nothing to do with the product (like the commercial for Qatar Airlines, which features the right side of a woman's face smiling enticingly at you as a soothing British male voice says the name of the airline). Commercial breaks occur usually only once or twice during a show, but they're longer, so we have more of them to sit through. I'll give you a few examples of some of our favorite horrifying commercials: in the mouthwash commercial, we are looking down into a sink, and several consecutive spits ask you, in red letters, if you're spitting blood (spit), because that's a sign of gum disease (spit, tooth falls in with a clatter), as is losing teeth. Therefore, you should use their awesome mouthwash. Then, in a commercial about fire safety, a little girl tells you how her daddy loves his car (shows dad locking his car securely in the garage) and her mommy loves her jewelry (mommy locks away her valuables), but she doesn't think they love her (girl in bed, asphyxiating from smoke as a fire burns her house down). Good times.
Coming to Ireland, I knew they drove on the left side of the road, all strange-like. What I didn't realize was that this translates to them walking on the left as well. We do the same thing at home: drive on the right, walk on the right - down the sidewalk, up the stairs, etc. It's a very strange sensation, and even though I try to walk on the left, in solidarity, I always eventually drift back to the right. It feels counterintuitive, especially when on stairwells. Of course, just like in America, you get plenty of people walking wherever the heck they feel like all over the sidewalk, but the general trend is to walk to the left side.
Fashion here looks similar to what you see on American college campuses, albeit with far fewer people wearing sweats (and almost no one in pajamas). One of the biggest looks for girls is a dress or skirt with colored leggings or black tights and boots or flats. You see this look at home too, but most girls here seem to dress like this. For both girls and guys their clothes fit a little closer, or the fit is a little better. They told us this in our preparatory packets, and I shrugged it off, but it really is true! They just look nicer, on the whole. Many of the boys also coif a little more here, with the spiky look being popular. Mike and Ethan find this amusing.
Finally, commercials. Commercials here are weird. They are often rather horrific, or really obnoxious, or mystifying because the commercial had nothing to do with the product (like the commercial for Qatar Airlines, which features the right side of a woman's face smiling enticingly at you as a soothing British male voice says the name of the airline). Commercial breaks occur usually only once or twice during a show, but they're longer, so we have more of them to sit through. I'll give you a few examples of some of our favorite horrifying commercials: in the mouthwash commercial, we are looking down into a sink, and several consecutive spits ask you, in red letters, if you're spitting blood (spit), because that's a sign of gum disease (spit, tooth falls in with a clatter), as is losing teeth. Therefore, you should use their awesome mouthwash. Then, in a commercial about fire safety, a little girl tells you how her daddy loves his car (shows dad locking his car securely in the garage) and her mommy loves her jewelry (mommy locks away her valuables), but she doesn't think they love her (girl in bed, asphyxiating from smoke as a fire burns her house down). Good times.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Ceol agus Craic
Or, music and fun, for you who speak no Irish. I started up my Irish class yesterday and loved it, of course. It's for beginners, so we went through the basic comhra (conversation) for a while (hello, how are you, what's your name, etc.), which I already know, so I helped the people near me. The teacher's name is Ailish Bhreathnach (same last name as me! In Irish, anyway), and she's from the Connemara area. Their Irish is a bit different from what I've learned at Pitt, both in pronunciation and phrasing. But I find it very interesting to learn the differences, so I've been practicing my Connemara speech, full of gutterals and rolled r's.
Last night also kicked off my societies: Choral and Traditional Music. Shaina and I went to Chorus, which is in the chapel, and I sort of made an Irish friend! Her name is Mary, and we sat next to each other and chatted, but afterwards she sort of ran away, so noluck there. Choir was fun though; the director (also a student) is a very nice and enthusiastic guy whose name might be David, I'm really not sure. We warmed up for a while, finishing with a round of "Hey ho, anybody home," complete with hand motions. We were all excessively uncoordinated, I'm happy to report, but we sounded pretty. Then we started a real song - Down in the River to Pray - and we were basically amazing, of course =P
Later, it was time for the TradSoc (traditional music society), which involves going to the Crane Bar and listening (or playing) some traditional music whilst quaffing your cider or stout. Ethan and I set out without actually knowing where the place was, although he had some vague idea. After much wandering about, we decided we couldn't find it, and turned around. We explored in a different direction that it might have been in, and there it was! Of course, there were no musicians there, because we got there at 9:30, when they told us to come, and everyone else is on Irish time and planned to start at 10, half 10 at the earliest. So we settled down to wait and met... an American from Michigan (oh I wish and wish and wish again...). She was there for TradSoc too and had brought her flute. Eventually more people came - including a banjo man with a Red Socks sticker on his banjo case (he and Ethan got along famously) - and we found that our seats were actually in the musicians' nook. Should we move? I think not! So there we were, nestled comfortably between the flautist and the accordion player (who looked a bit angry) and surrounded by an Uillean pipe/tinwhistle player, 3 banjo players, 3 fiddlers, and 2 guitarists. Soon another accordion girl came, and when yet another banjo player turned up we found ourselves kicked out to stand with the other nonentities. We had been talking about our own musical backgrounds and wishing we had instruments (he plays guitar). So, inspired by our unceremonious ousting, we decided that next time we came we would be proficient enough at instruments to be welcome in the inner sanctum. Ethan resolved to learn the bodhran (a type of drum... Mary Clare has one on her wall) and I the whistle. All that time learning the pipes will finally pay off... in a smaller, more-practical-for-bringing-to-the-pub-and-on-a-plane kind of way. Oh yes, Crane Bar... next time, we will dominate you with our newly acquired yet oh-so-astounding musical skills!
Finally, laundry. The kids in Menlo have washers and dryers in their apartments, but we have to pay for our laundry service (2 Euro to wash and 3 to dry - inconceivable!). So, Ryan, one of the other API boys in Corrib (funfact: he's Australian but lives in Texas) asked Finn if there was any way we could get reimbursed or something, since we're all paying the same price for the program. Finn basically told him (in nicer language) to suck it up, since we're so much closer to campus than Menlo, but she got in touch with API HQ, and they're going to give the Corrib group a healthy stipend for laundry! Score.
Last night also kicked off my societies: Choral and Traditional Music. Shaina and I went to Chorus, which is in the chapel, and I sort of made an Irish friend! Her name is Mary, and we sat next to each other and chatted, but afterwards she sort of ran away, so noluck there. Choir was fun though; the director (also a student) is a very nice and enthusiastic guy whose name might be David, I'm really not sure. We warmed up for a while, finishing with a round of "Hey ho, anybody home," complete with hand motions. We were all excessively uncoordinated, I'm happy to report, but we sounded pretty. Then we started a real song - Down in the River to Pray - and we were basically amazing, of course =P
Later, it was time for the TradSoc (traditional music society), which involves going to the Crane Bar and listening (or playing) some traditional music whilst quaffing your cider or stout. Ethan and I set out without actually knowing where the place was, although he had some vague idea. After much wandering about, we decided we couldn't find it, and turned around. We explored in a different direction that it might have been in, and there it was! Of course, there were no musicians there, because we got there at 9:30, when they told us to come, and everyone else is on Irish time and planned to start at 10, half 10 at the earliest. So we settled down to wait and met... an American from Michigan (oh I wish and wish and wish again...). She was there for TradSoc too and had brought her flute. Eventually more people came - including a banjo man with a Red Socks sticker on his banjo case (he and Ethan got along famously) - and we found that our seats were actually in the musicians' nook. Should we move? I think not! So there we were, nestled comfortably between the flautist and the accordion player (who looked a bit angry) and surrounded by an Uillean pipe/tinwhistle player, 3 banjo players, 3 fiddlers, and 2 guitarists. Soon another accordion girl came, and when yet another banjo player turned up we found ourselves kicked out to stand with the other nonentities. We had been talking about our own musical backgrounds and wishing we had instruments (he plays guitar). So, inspired by our unceremonious ousting, we decided that next time we came we would be proficient enough at instruments to be welcome in the inner sanctum. Ethan resolved to learn the bodhran (a type of drum... Mary Clare has one on her wall) and I the whistle. All that time learning the pipes will finally pay off... in a smaller, more-practical-for-bringing-to-the-pub-and-on-a-plane kind of way. Oh yes, Crane Bar... next time, we will dominate you with our newly acquired yet oh-so-astounding musical skills!
Finally, laundry. The kids in Menlo have washers and dryers in their apartments, but we have to pay for our laundry service (2 Euro to wash and 3 to dry - inconceivable!). So, Ryan, one of the other API boys in Corrib (funfact: he's Australian but lives in Texas) asked Finn if there was any way we could get reimbursed or something, since we're all paying the same price for the program. Finn basically told him (in nicer language) to suck it up, since we're so much closer to campus than Menlo, but she got in touch with API HQ, and they're going to give the Corrib group a healthy stipend for laundry! Score.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Hey ho, the wind and the rain
This weekend we had crazy, crazy weather. While the winds were not quite 70mph here, they were about half of that, which was plenty to be going on with, and the rain blowing at you from the side was fun as well. I had gone for a walk on Saturday to get a few things from the store, and the wind was at my back as I walked to the store... I was very nearly lifted and was pushed along several times at a faster pace than I had planned. But I had my rainboots! Which were magnificent, thanks Briskeys! Anyway, coming home was a different story: at several points along the way the wind gusted and left me immobilized because it was pushing against me so much. Like I said, crazy times.
Sunday Kristen and I went wandering downtown to look at books and stuff (Charlie Byrne's! Fabulous place!). After spending a happy while lost among the books, we walked down the street to Mister Waffle and ate probably the best waffles of our lives. Tine, we're going there! I'm getting to know my flatmates better now, and it's really nice to have them around. Kristen and I talk a lot, and I hang out with the boys very often, and I'm glad all of us are so compatible. Not that they'll replace my Pitt people of course =) but they're a lovely substitute for my time here.
I went to the Cathedral for mass, and it's a strange setup. The Church is shaped like a cross, with the altar at the crosspoint, and the altar facing the long leg (bottom of the cross), but you can sit on all four sides, so some people get the side view and others see only the priest's back. Still, it's very pretty. I took a surreptitious picture before mass started, but blogger doesn't want me to show it to you, so you'll have to wait for the next round of pictures. Also, they still use the communion rail, which was a completely new experience for me, although not an unpleasant one. They said the Our Father in Irish (Caithfidh mé an “Ár n-Athair” a fhoglaim as Gaeilge mar ní feidir liom é a rá, agus bhí bron orm) and after mass I heard quite a few families speaking to each other in Irish, which was all very exciting for me!
Coming soon: This weekend is our first API excursion to see fun things in County Clare, so I'll have lots of pictures and hopefully some fun stories about that. The flatmates and I may also spend a day at the Cliffs of Moher. This week I start archery and my societies, so I may have some new Irish friends to tell you about... all this and more, so stay tuned!
Sunday Kristen and I went wandering downtown to look at books and stuff (Charlie Byrne's! Fabulous place!). After spending a happy while lost among the books, we walked down the street to Mister Waffle and ate probably the best waffles of our lives. Tine, we're going there! I'm getting to know my flatmates better now, and it's really nice to have them around. Kristen and I talk a lot, and I hang out with the boys very often, and I'm glad all of us are so compatible. Not that they'll replace my Pitt people of course =) but they're a lovely substitute for my time here.
I went to the Cathedral for mass, and it's a strange setup. The Church is shaped like a cross, with the altar at the crosspoint, and the altar facing the long leg (bottom of the cross), but you can sit on all four sides, so some people get the side view and others see only the priest's back. Still, it's very pretty. I took a surreptitious picture before mass started, but blogger doesn't want me to show it to you, so you'll have to wait for the next round of pictures. Also, they still use the communion rail, which was a completely new experience for me, although not an unpleasant one. They said the Our Father in Irish (Caithfidh mé an “Ár n-Athair” a fhoglaim as Gaeilge mar ní feidir liom é a rá, agus bhí bron orm) and after mass I heard quite a few families speaking to each other in Irish, which was all very exciting for me!
Coming soon: This weekend is our first API excursion to see fun things in County Clare, so I'll have lots of pictures and hopefully some fun stories about that. The flatmates and I may also spend a day at the Cliffs of Moher. This week I start archery and my societies, so I may have some new Irish friends to tell you about... all this and more, so stay tuned!
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