A Traveler's Tale

I must apologize for dropping off the face of the earth. The pace of life quickened over the past few weeks, and I was not prepared. I like to write in solitude, as it is easier to process my thoughts, so I am deeply sorry for the lack of communication lately. I have much to write about, so let me begin.

I seem to have spent more time in Dublin than in Galway for the past three weeks. All this traveling in the middle of the week, and in the middle of the semester no less. I chalk it up to (a) having absolutely no idea when my essays are due, so I don't feel guilty taking my time doing said work, (b) the proximity of Dublin to Galway (a mere 3 hour bus ride) and (c) last but certainly not least, the wonderful people I get to stay with in Dublin (Rory* and her flat mates). It is always nice to have a family of sorts to visit.

The bus ride to Dublin is perhaps the most beautiful ride I've ever taken (second to only the ride from Shannon to Galway). I ended up staring wistfully out the window for the entire three hours, which is not unusual for me to do, come to think of it. The first newborn lambs were out in the fields, enjoying the rain along with me. And I am still enjoying the rain. Even my sobering lecture that very morning in my Rural Geography class couldn't dampen my dreams to become a farmer.

I arrived in Dublin past nightfall due to traffic. I was starting to feel anxious as I stepped off the bus at the last stop--which suspiciously did not resemble anything like a bus stop. Before I could ask the bus driver for directions (to anywhere but there), he was gone. And there I was, standing alone, in the rain, in Dublin. My yellow bag slung over my shoulder, my dear friend Rory no where in sight, and left without a way to contact her (cell phones are truly unreliable). By some miracle we found each other without the convenience of communication--the relief when I stepped into Connolly station and saw her purple rain boots is difficult to put into words. I don't mean to be overly dramatic, just honest. Feeling vulnerable in a foreign city is not my cup of tea.

Dublin proved to be worth the stress. Rory and I became tourists for the weekend, riding on the double-decker bus, listening to the unreliable audio feed that recounted Dublin's history. I managed to gleam the important information though... did you know that Arthur Guinness had 21 children? We stopped by the Kilmainham Gaol, the prison where the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising were held and executed. Eamon de Valera even did a stint there after the civil war. It was chilling walking through the old part of te prison that was built in the late 18th century. I began to wish we had stayed in the tea room in the museum lobby. Light was scarce until the construction of the Victorian wing of the prison in the 19th century. It was thought that the skylight would forever remind the prisoners that God is all-seeing. I couldn't begin to imagine the place--built to recieve around 2000 prisoners per year--packed during the famine with nearly 9,000 prisoners passing through in 1849. One thought that crossed my mind... would conditions be considered inhumane then, much like the publc outcry against Guantanamo today? It is amazing to see how far global society has progressed in terms of moral standards. Perhaps it is only the rising quality of life, but I like to think that we've evolved into more sensitive and caring people.

Victorian Wing, Kilmainham Gaol

That Sunday was the 1st of February, otherwise known as the first day of spring in the Celtic tradition. Rory, her flat mate Sarah and I celbrated by visiting the largest urban park in Europe: Phoenix Park, home to the second tallest obelisk in the world (dwarfed by the Washington Monument in my personal opinion), the president's residence, and the DUBLIN ZOO! Zoos are generally pleasant places, but this one was particularly enjoyable as there was new life everywhere--baby elephants, baby chimps, baby giraffes.. and all the children warmed my heart :). There was a naming contest for the baby giraffe, and I desperately wanted to enter 'Ernest'. I settled for a tiny stuffed giraffe from the gift shop that now sits on my bedside table.

Ernest & Family

I traveled back to Galway on Monday, just in time to visit the King's Head with Alex for our weekly dose of Fred & James--two acoustic guitarists that primarily play Johnny Cash and Jack Johnson. We drink tea and discuss our weekends. The week before I witnessed my first bar fight, just three feet away from me. I don't think I'll ever be a bartender, as it seemed as though you needed to be able to break up these occasional brawls. I digress. Class on Tuesday went off without a hitch, save for the fire alarm that occured at the beginning of my Local Development class. No one seemed particularly concerned when the alarm went off, and as I was sitting in the middle of the theatre, I followed suit. After about 5-7 minutes, everyone decided it was time to leave. When I returned to the classroom, it was empty. Genuinely worried I'd miss the class, I remained in the classroom until the hour was up. I logically assumed that everyone had skipped, including the professor. But come Wednesday, the professor kept referencing what he said in the previous day's class. Now, either I was severly confused, or he was. I find out this week that a select few people had met in a secret seminar room during that hour. Now, as there was no announcement, I have no idea how this came about. I fear I still do not understand the system here. I am trying my very best.

I woke up on Thursday to the beautiful Galway sunshine, and proceeded to start my second journey to Dublin. The Swell Season were set to perform in Dublin proper that night, and Rory and I had acquired tickets on my previous visit. It was a benefit concert, and featured many local Dublin artists in addition to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova (the duo from the film 'once'). Fabulous music, and fabulous people. At one point all the musicians were on stage, each contributing their own unique harmony. I don't think I will ever cease to be amazed by the music in Ireland. I'd like to find some sheet music, but its becoming increasingly apparent that they are just born knowing the songs.

The Swell Season

Caitlin & Rory enjoying the Swell Season

I felt less like a tourist, and more like a flat mate on my second visit. I did a bit of work, organized, and enjoyed the general splendor of Dublin. My wish was to spend most of the weekend in the Iveagh Gardens--a secluded, dare I say 'secret' garden next to Rory's flat. The weather was bitterly cold, however, so that dream will have to wait till a later date. Saturday night was the kickoff for Six Nations Rugby... which, apart from meaning Dublin was infused with far too many French people over the weekend, was quite exciting! I read up on my rugby rules, studied the team statistics, and headed off to the pub with Rory & friends. Ireland was victorious in a rather thrilling game (30-21) and I became officially hooked.

Iveagh Gardens

Waterfall, Iveagh Gardens

Valentine's Day brought clear skies, and I headed north with my geography class for a field trip to Derry and Belfast. We were observing how particular discourses are represented in public space--namely the discourses of the protestant-loyalist and caltholic-nationalist, and how they interact (or lack thereof). I found it interesting that since the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, Northern Ireland's cities have in fact become more segregated. Also, it seems as though the catholic population is set to eclipse the protestant one in the near future... an interesting phenomenon. The walls in Belfast were so definitive--I've never seen such marking of territory, but I imagine it remains the norm in many places today. Most striking, however, was descending down into the Bogside area of Derry (location of Bloody Sunday) from the city walls. The old protestant city is placed upon a hill, with the catholic ghetto below. I couldn't tell you how much I felt like an outsider at that moment. I could feel the eyes on our class as we made our way through the town. Everything was a signal for me to leave. And to leave fast. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your view), you could never get lost in Derry, as there is no shortage of iconography: flags, street paint, murals and graffiti plaster the sides of buildings, curbstones and lampposts. I was surprised at how much effort was put into connecting Northern Ireland's struggle to civil rights struggles abroad-- or even back to the revolutionary war. One mural depicted George Washington and his words 'if defeated everywhere else I would make my final stand for liberty with the Ulster-Scots of my native Virginia.' I suppose thats one way to legitimize an argument. Mostly I was upset with my ignorance of contemporary Irish issues... how could I go through 20 years of my life, and miss such important events in global history? I suppose that is why I'm here now. Now I'm left to begin the difficult task of outlining how these particular discourses can be deconstructed... the question remains, how is a society to progress when it is constantly reminded of its 'proper' place? I'll get back to you on that one when I've fully digested my Northern Ireland experience.

Class at Entrance to Bogside

Loyalist Neighboorhood, Derry

Murals in Bogside

On a lighter note, I did see a local wearing a Michigan basketball sweatshirt wandering the streets of Derry. The last place I'd expect to see one, but it made me feel a little more welcome, nonetheless.

What would a field trip be without a trip to the pub, and some genuine sight-seeing? Saturday night we all checked into the hostel in Portstewart, then made our way over to the local pub to whittle the night away. I sat with some American students as the professor made the rounds (on his 6th or 7th Guinness by this point). It was a unique experience. Unique indeed. I don't think anyone got much sleep (there were co-ed rooms, that's all I'll say), and we rolled out of town at 10:30am the next morning, smelling like a brewery. I've never appreciated getting up at 5am to grab breakfast before a horse show on the road so much before--at least you are guaranteed a good night's sleep! We headed up to the Giant's Causeway via Bushmills (site of the oldest whisky distillery in the world), and got there just in time to watch the educational video. Unfortunately, the video seemed more concerned with making a plug for Northern Ireland tourism than the geoglogical formation of the rocks themselves (Emme, you'll have to fill me in on that part). But the legend of Giant's Causeway goes something like this: Finn McCool, the gentle giant of the north, and Benandonner, the not-so-gentle giant of Scotland challenged each other to a duel. Finn built the Causeway for Benandonner's passage to Ireland. However, exhaustion claimed the best of Finn, and he fell sound asleep before morning. When Finn's wife, Oonagh, glimpsed the great Benandonner, she cleaverly disguised her husband as a sleeping baby in a crib. The great Benandonner glimpsed the baby, and (logically, I might add) concluded that he did not want to meet the boy's father, if that was the size of his child! He fled back across the Causeway, breaking it up as to ensure his safety from Finn. The remains of the Causeway can be seen today--hexagonal columns that reach down to the sea floor, extending from the north coast of Ireland to Scotland. It was a beautiful site, and I would have much liked to sit for awhile alone and enjoy it a bit more thoroughly. Another visit, perhaps, is needed. What I do know, is that I'll be naming my first dog 'Finn.'

Giant's Causeway

Me, Enjoying Giant's Causeway

Bay at Giant's Causeway

Classes this week have been a mix of interesting, hilarious, painful, thought-inducing, and well, run-of-the-mill. I will have to update more often so I can enlighten you all with the interesting things I'm learning. Unfortunately, when I don't write things down, I tend to forget them. I'll work on that. We'll see how I do on my exams come May. I'm deep into writing my midterm essays, so I think traveling will be put on the back burner for the moment. It isn't such a burden to appreaciate my immediate surroundings anyway :).

More to come soon. Cheers!

P.S. Julia: I don't have a boyfriend, however my dear father wanted me to tell you that I did, and he was a wee man of a leprechaun named Seamus O'Toole and he turned me into a faerie... I miss both you and Cooper immensely!! I hope you are enjoying the last few weeks of winter, and give Penny a hug for me the next time you see her!

*For those of you who may not know, Rory is one of my best friends from home that is studying at Trinity College Dublin this semester.