No, the title of this blog entry does not come from my favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor of ice cream, if you must know, I was a “One Sweet Whirled” fan but I believe that flavor has been discontinued. This title comes from the way I have been doing quite a few things in my life lately. Don’t worry; I am beginning to see that doing things in a “half-baked” manner is not always the best way to proceed. Things are beginning to turn around though. Today I turned in course approval forms for the classes I took in Ireland (they only should have been submitted months ago…) and right now I am beginning the process of getting back on track with this blog. Since I have not done the best job with making posts on a regular basis, I figured it was only fair I admit to you that this blog is somewhat “half-baked.” You know what else is half-baked though, the history of Irish cuisine. Thus, we have our blog topic folks!
Now I know what you are thinking: “Maura, have you not ever had corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day? What about a delicious Guinness stew?” I would like to counter the thoughts you may or may not have just had with these little anecdotes. When my friend from home Bridget asked my roommate Fiona (via Skype) if she ate corned beef and cabbage often, Fiona responded with “What is that?” When Lindsay asked our roommates where we could find good, traditional Irish food at a restaurant in Cork, they told us that no such restaurant would survive if their menu was based on Irish dishes. Apparently the Irish are not particularly fond of the food we Americans have come to associate them with.
Reasons for this phenomenon? Perhaps you are familiar with the event textbooks love to include as the main element of Irish history. The Great Famine. I think we have all learned about the Great Famine at one point or another. Usually textbooks stress the main point of the famine as a period of time when potatoes in Ireland were affected by a disease known as blight, leaving many Irish people hungry. The more accurate telling of the story includes the fact that potatoes were not actually native to Ireland, more than one spell of blight occurred, and it was the Irish’s extreme reliance on one crop as a main food source that ultimately made the blight result in such catastrophe. The effects of the famine lasted for years after the last season of potato crops were affected by blight. The Irish population was drastically reduced as thousands died from starvation, malnutrition, and diseases that preyed on weakened, hungry individuals.
One of the other effects of the potato blight that I know was never discussed in any of my lower level history classes was its effect on the food history of Ireland. When you think about it though, it makes complete sense. It basically paused the development of any type of cuisine for years in Ireland. Food is such a large part of culture too. Pasta – Italy. Croissants – France. Waffles – Belgium. Bratwurst – Germany. The list could go on and on. The Irish really do not have a large association with any one type of food though. Yes, parts of Ireland are ideal for raising cattle for beef and cows for dairy products, and the rest of the world may make the association of potatoes and Ireland but really there is no strong cuisine that comes out of Ireland.
I am not saying this is a necessarily good or bad thing. Really it is convenient for all of us living today. While other countries have maintained roughly the same cuisines for centuries, the Irish are able to create their own now, in a world where food technology is far more advanced that ever before. Our advantage is that we get to enjoy the benefits of such development. It may be impossible to know exactly where the cuisine in Ireland will end up going but it is exciting to know that we will all get to watch firsthand as it develops and who knows, perhaps students I studied with at UCC who are in the Food Science department will even play key roles in aiding the development.
As a note, I would like to acknowledge, thank, and credit the lecturers of the “Introduction to Irish History for Visiting Students” module at UCC. The series of lectures provided me with an excellent base in multiple and varying aspects of Irish history and enabled me to write this blog as an informed student.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Backpacker is Back!
Well I have returned from my month-long trip gallivanting across a small portion of Europe. Lindsay and I thankfully faced only few and minor problems with our entire trek (thanks, volcanic ash cloud...) and I doubt we could have had better weather anywhere we went. The itinerary changed slightly as we realized that traveling by train is not always efficient or as fast as one might hope and you need ample time to actually get a feel for life in a foreign city.
Our travels took us to Germany, Austria, Italy, France (only for one day though), back to Germany, Belgium, and finally to London. I plan on blogging about each place we visited in the near future, once I am finished with exams here in Ireland. I am looking forward to updating you on my trip as I attempted to keep a travel journal with details and I also took over 700 pictures to document everything.
Some of the blogs will be about the actual places and the history surrounding them, like Venice, Italy – the great canal city now facing problems with flooding and sinking, or Cologne, Germany – where city-pride can be found everywhere although the city seems to be a melting pot for numerous different cultures. Some of the blogs will be about the amazing people I met on my trip, even if I only got to spend a few hours with them before parting, like “Eric Ericsson” – the young Londoner whose real name I do not know but whose refreshing outlook on life and charming personality made the ride from Aachen, Germany to Brussels, Belgium once of the most enjoyable train trips I have ever taken.
Lindsay and I discussed our semester on the plane ride back to Cork from London and have come to the conclusion that unfortunately it is impossible to convey with words how amazing travel and studying abroad can be. There is something almost magical about being able to experience so many new places and things in such a short amount of time. I don’t think I realized before my trip how very little of this world I had seen. I would be lying though if I did not mention how great it feels to be back in my comfort zone of an English-speaking country with my departure for the States, an even more comfortable zone, being only a few days away.
Before I get ahead of myself though, I still have ten days left in Ireland. I have one exam tomorrow and one on May 10th as well as a birthday to celebrate in between. I plan on spending a good portion of my time in the library or back in the apartment drinking tea with my roommates. When I leave Ireland on May 14th I will do so a bit sadly, knowing it will most likely be a long while before I am back, but thankful for all of the wonderful memories and amazing opportunities I had when I was here.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tschuess, Servus, Ciao, Au Revoir, Etc.
It is 11:00pm in Cork, Ireland. Tomorrow Lindsay and I leave to embark on our month-long European adventure. Have I packed anything? Of course not, you all know that I tend to procrastinate. Somehow though, everything I need for the month must fit into the backpack shown in the photo. I may leave things until the last minute, but at least I can fold neatly and pack in an organized fashion.
I am pretty sure that this month has the potential to become one of those “defining” moments, you know the ones that blockbuster movie plots center around. Really though, travelling for a month in foreign countries is bound to have some sort of impact on me. How could it not?
Germany is the first stop, following a flight out of Dublin, and I hope to sample tasty beers and perhaps find a lovely stein to bring home and enjoy a few more out of, once I am of legal drinking age in the U.S. of course! Next on the itinerary is Austria with a stop in Salzburg. “The Sound of Music” tour is on Lindsay’s must-do list and after “starring” in the chorus of my high school’s rendition of the show, I am sure I will enjoy it. Something I am looking forward to greatly is meeting up with my sister Meghan in Venice for a week following my romp in the musical hills of Austria. Once I Google directions from the train station where Lindsay and I will arrive to the airport where Meghan will fly into, I will be all set to finally set eyes on a friend from home! Lindsay and I will be spending more time in Italy once Meghan goes back home; our plans are to see Florence, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, and Pisa before heading to Paris, France. A short, but I am sure still be memorable, stay in the City of Lights is to be followed by copious amounts of Belgian beer and chocolate in Brussels. It is after this stop we plan to ditch our EuroRail train passes and take the ferry to London for the final leg of our journey. From London we will be flying back to Cork, dragging ourselves back to our apartment. Tired, bedraggled, but still more worldly and cultured than before, we will most likely collapse in heaps in our beds.
As excited, as I am to see so many amazing places, I am nervous. I am just hoping and praying (please do the same for us) that things will go as planned as much as possible, and that, above all, Lindsay and I will have safe travels. I am going to do my best to blog as we go, if not though, I am long overdue for blogging Ireland weekend trips and daytrips so other European adventures will be added to the to-do list. You can expect many entries once I am in the Virginia because until then I will be away from my own computer and at the liberty of internet cafes, then on to exams at UCC, followed closely by a plane ride back to Boston and a long car ride down to Mary Washington for summer session classes. My ability to stay in contact is, from this very point on, rather limited.
Well, it is time for me to pack. My camera memory card has been completely cleared and my travel journey is close at hand. I am ready to do something completely new. I’ll only be gone for a month so try not to forget about me completely!
Final Essay
Hello everyone! This post is a copy of a draft of an essay I wrote for the "Language, Literature, and Culture" course I am taking. Our final assessment is an essay and we were given the options of these five titles:
1. 'What is different about Ireland, if anything?'
2. Preconceived perceptions and present realities.
3. Studying in Ireland
4. The things that have really annoyed me here
5. Does Irish literature reflect Irish society?
I chose to use #4. The essay needs to be between 2000-25000 words, so sorry this post is a bit lengthy. I hope you still enjoy it!
Having been in Ireland for almost three months now, I have, of course, experienced a few rather annoying things. Cold showers, bad coffee, rainy weather, and homesickness have all been dealt with and I am a better person for it, I like to think. Perhaps the most annoying portion of my study abroad experience was the actual journey to it. Nothing seemed to go as planned and annoyance after annoyance kept occurring. It may have been difficult to deal with and it was not the way I envisioned beginning my trip to Ireland, but looking back now, I am glad the most annoying part of my trip was the very start of it. After that, things had no choice but to get better, and that is exactly what they did.
A few days before I left my home of Weymouth, Massachusetts my aunt gave me a gift. It was a lovely and simple bracelet with only five beads on it. Three of them were adorned with Celtic designs. The tag on the bracelet informed me that my new item of jewellery would bring me good luck wherever I went. Perhaps the bracelet should have come with further instructions because that luck took a bit of time to warm up and actually start working. Although I wore it during my entire trip from home to Ireland, it did not seem to have any effect on stopping any problem that sprung up as I made my way to Cork.
Snow in Virginia is not a common occurrence. Of course though, record snowfall would begin and continue long after my college roommate, best friend, and study abroad companion Lindsay, left Washington Dulles International Airport on New Year’s Eve day. She was flying to Logan Airport in Boston where we would meet and fly together to Dublin. From Dublin we would then take a bus to Cork. Although the snow was certainly not a sign of good luck, Lindsay’s flight did take off despite less than ideal weather conditions and land safely in Boston.
The forecast in the Boston area also called for snow. Where was that good luck? Thankfully, the meteorologists were predicting snowfall in the late evening through the night. Go figure, they were wrong. The fat, fluffy flakes began descending as my parents and I headed into Boston in the early afternoon. It seemed like with each mile we drove the flakes came down a bit faster. I began my mantra of, “Please don’t cancel our flight, please don’t cancel our flight.”
My parents and I picked Lindsay up from the arrival area for domestic flights and then headed to the departure area for international flights. We unloaded our luggage, two large items of luggage for each of us, one carry-on for myself, and two for Lindsay who had had an issue with overweight suitcases at Dulles that was resolved by adding a second carry-on stuffed with jeans and other heavy clothing items. My mom and dad came with us into the airport to make sure we checked into our flight without any problems and to wave to us from the other side of security once we made it through.
The snow was still falling and there was no indication of it stopping. We were hours early for our flight but managed to entertain ourselves without too many spouts of boredom. Both Lindsay and myself were worried about the future of our snowy lift-off but tried to remain positive. I was wearing my new bracelet and although I was a bit annoyed that it was not working too well, I still had faith that things could turn themselves around.
Finally we were allowed to board the plane. My plan to sleep during the entire flight was abandoned when I found out I could watch great movies instead. Things were going smoothly until the pilot came on the intercom to tell us we would be rerouting to Shannon. Snowfall in Dublin meant we were unable to land there as planned until it was cleared. Not a big deal, I thought. The pilot reassured us that it should not take more than an hour before we would be allowed to land in Dublin. Wrong, more bad luck and annoyance begins now.
After about forty-five minutes had passed the pilot made another announcement: “We’re still here.” Really? Was it an announcement to let us know that we had not been left stranded without a pilot in the aircraft or was it an announcement for those passengers who might possibly have been disillusioned into thinking they were actually in Dublin? He also told us there was no response from anyone in Dublin about when or even if we would be allowed to land. Our luck just kept improving.
At this point I decided it would be best if I tried to get some sleep. I did doze a little but unfortunately I was wide-awake for when the cabin air-conditioning had to be switched off in order to de-ice the plane. Gradually the temperature began to rise and as time went by I began peeling off layers and fidgeting off my shoes, all well trying not to wake Lindsay who was out like a light in the seat next to me. She woke up not long after the air-conditioning was put back on. When I told her about what she had missed she replied with, “Hmmm, I thought it was getting warm in here.”
The bad luck kept coming. Our next announcement from the pilot was the information that if we were not allowed to head towards Dublin soon, his legal flying time would expire. He would only be allowed to lift-off in the next half hour before laws and regulations would require him to rest before flying again. With no word from anyone at Dublin Airport about the conditions of the runways, things were not looking too good for our flight.
The thirty minutes of our pilot’s remaining flying time seemed to go by about as quickly as molasses moving uphill in the winter. Finally, the announcement was made; Shannon would be the flight’s final stop. Moans and groans were heard all over the plane. Trying to look on the bright side, Lindsay and I discussed the fact that this was not a terrible thing. We could at least get off the plane soon if we were not going to fly to Dublin. Wrong again, more bad luck is coming.
Shannon Airport was a ghost town. It was around 8:00am and no one was at work. Apparently no early flights were scheduled to leave or depart the airport and our arrival was certainly unexpected. Due to security reasons, we were not allowed to get off of the airplane and enter the airport until staff arrived. While some other passengers chose to complain, rather loudly, Lindsay and I could not help but laugh about the situation we were in. Yes, it was annoying that no one was working at the airport, but the two of us agreed that neither of us would enjoy having to be at any job that early.
Lindsay and I decided to make ourselves as comfortable as possible and enjoy more in-flight television and movies. We sat on the airplane for another hour before hearing from the pilot. Around 9:00am he began to make another announcement over the intercom. This had to be it, the news we were all waiting for, that we could get off of the plane! No. “Still no sign of anyone working in the airport yet”, he told us with a sad tone in his voice.
This was becoming more and more of a comical experience. Yes, it was annoying that we had been sitting on a plane for almost three hours without actually going anywhere, but honestly, it is a bit humorous that at 9:00am the only people who had showed up for work at the airport were members of the cleaning staff. It was New Year’s Day though, so perhaps a late evening the night before was the explanation for why everyone showed up late to work that day.
Employees began to arrive around 9:15am and at that time the pilot made the announcement, sounding a bit more chipper than earlier, that we would be able to disembark soon! Cheers and applause filled the plane. We still sat for almost a half hour before people at the front of the plane were allowed to get off. Lindsay and I finally stood up to gather our belongings and walk to an exit. At last, we were off of the plane and setting foot in Ireland! All that was left to do was to get to Cork and to our apartment, easier said than done.
I was hoping the rest of our travels for the day would go more smoothly. After getting through customs and picking up our luggage we made our way to the bus stop outside of the airport. We had bought our tickets, checked the number of the bus to Cork as well as its departure time. How could things go wrong? Our luck had to be improving, right?
The bus pulled up not long after we got to the stop and we loaded, with some difficulty, our luggage on to it. All systems were go until we handed our tickets to the bus driver only to be informed that the bus was going to Galway, not Cork. Off we went and scrambled to grab our luggage before the doors to the stow-away area began to close and the bus pulled out leaving us in the middle of the street. We wheeled our bags back into the airport with our heads hanging low, checked the schedule once again, and sat for another hour waiting for the right bus.
We did manage to eventually get on the correct bus and although both Lindsay and myself tried to stay awake during the ride, we could not help but sleep through most of the trip. We arrived in Cork around 3:00pm and had absolutely no idea where anything was located, including our apartment. We were not allowed to move in until 6:00pm anyways so we decided to find some place to sit and eat something. Having forgotten that it was New Year’s Day, we wondered why everything was closed until we remembered that it was a holiday.
Lindsay and I were running out of hope and energy when we stumbled upon a McDonald’s that was open. Our first meal in Ireland was McDonald’s apple pie, quite a ways away from authentic Irish food. We ordered our pies and coffee off of the “Euro-saver” menu and felt that our measly purchases still entitled us to occupy a booth there for close to three hours, which we did. When it was getting close to 6:00pm we decided to leave the fine dining establishment and find a taxi to take us to our apartment on Brandon Road.
There is no Brandon Road in Cork. Although we fought this issue with our taxi driver he assured us that we actually lived on Bandon Road and that is where he would take us. Turns out, once again, we had the wrong information; at least we ended up at the right place. The warden of the apartment units signed us in, gave us keys, and showed us our apartment. He also came back a few minutes later to turn the water heater on for us, although it did not really make much of an improvement.
The heaters in our five-bedroom apartment had been off for weeks and both Lindsay’s and my own bedroom were freezing. We were exhausted and wanted desperately to fall asleep so we put on as many layers as we could and ended up sleeping side by side in an attempt to make the most out of body heat. Our sleep was restless to say the least and the next morning we were too tired to do much of anything. If we had not run out of our supply of granola bars, we may not have ever left our apartment.
Things got better gradually. We went back to city centre and got our bearings a bit more. We found a grocery store and by the time we came back to our apartment, it had warmed up substantially. A few days later our three other apartment-mates arrived and not long after that classes began. Our lives began to fall into a routine that was enjoyable. We did not have to worry about rerouted flights, getting on the wrong bus, or having to sleep in freezing bedrooms.
Lindsay and I began to travel around Ireland, meet new people, and I have had the time of my life while studying abroad here. The annoyances I experienced at the beginning of my trip seem incredibly insignificant when I compare them to all of the amazing places I have seen and the wonderful friends I have made. I am not sure whether my bracelet actually is lucky or not, but I know for certain, that I am lucky to have had such a great time, with so few annoyances, in Ireland.
1. 'What is different about Ireland, if anything?'
2. Preconceived perceptions and present realities.
3. Studying in Ireland
4. The things that have really annoyed me here
5. Does Irish literature reflect Irish society?
I chose to use #4. The essay needs to be between 2000-25000 words, so sorry this post is a bit lengthy. I hope you still enjoy it!
Having been in Ireland for almost three months now, I have, of course, experienced a few rather annoying things. Cold showers, bad coffee, rainy weather, and homesickness have all been dealt with and I am a better person for it, I like to think. Perhaps the most annoying portion of my study abroad experience was the actual journey to it. Nothing seemed to go as planned and annoyance after annoyance kept occurring. It may have been difficult to deal with and it was not the way I envisioned beginning my trip to Ireland, but looking back now, I am glad the most annoying part of my trip was the very start of it. After that, things had no choice but to get better, and that is exactly what they did.
A few days before I left my home of Weymouth, Massachusetts my aunt gave me a gift. It was a lovely and simple bracelet with only five beads on it. Three of them were adorned with Celtic designs. The tag on the bracelet informed me that my new item of jewellery would bring me good luck wherever I went. Perhaps the bracelet should have come with further instructions because that luck took a bit of time to warm up and actually start working. Although I wore it during my entire trip from home to Ireland, it did not seem to have any effect on stopping any problem that sprung up as I made my way to Cork.
Snow in Virginia is not a common occurrence. Of course though, record snowfall would begin and continue long after my college roommate, best friend, and study abroad companion Lindsay, left Washington Dulles International Airport on New Year’s Eve day. She was flying to Logan Airport in Boston where we would meet and fly together to Dublin. From Dublin we would then take a bus to Cork. Although the snow was certainly not a sign of good luck, Lindsay’s flight did take off despite less than ideal weather conditions and land safely in Boston.
The forecast in the Boston area also called for snow. Where was that good luck? Thankfully, the meteorologists were predicting snowfall in the late evening through the night. Go figure, they were wrong. The fat, fluffy flakes began descending as my parents and I headed into Boston in the early afternoon. It seemed like with each mile we drove the flakes came down a bit faster. I began my mantra of, “Please don’t cancel our flight, please don’t cancel our flight.”
My parents and I picked Lindsay up from the arrival area for domestic flights and then headed to the departure area for international flights. We unloaded our luggage, two large items of luggage for each of us, one carry-on for myself, and two for Lindsay who had had an issue with overweight suitcases at Dulles that was resolved by adding a second carry-on stuffed with jeans and other heavy clothing items. My mom and dad came with us into the airport to make sure we checked into our flight without any problems and to wave to us from the other side of security once we made it through.
The snow was still falling and there was no indication of it stopping. We were hours early for our flight but managed to entertain ourselves without too many spouts of boredom. Both Lindsay and myself were worried about the future of our snowy lift-off but tried to remain positive. I was wearing my new bracelet and although I was a bit annoyed that it was not working too well, I still had faith that things could turn themselves around.
Finally we were allowed to board the plane. My plan to sleep during the entire flight was abandoned when I found out I could watch great movies instead. Things were going smoothly until the pilot came on the intercom to tell us we would be rerouting to Shannon. Snowfall in Dublin meant we were unable to land there as planned until it was cleared. Not a big deal, I thought. The pilot reassured us that it should not take more than an hour before we would be allowed to land in Dublin. Wrong, more bad luck and annoyance begins now.
After about forty-five minutes had passed the pilot made another announcement: “We’re still here.” Really? Was it an announcement to let us know that we had not been left stranded without a pilot in the aircraft or was it an announcement for those passengers who might possibly have been disillusioned into thinking they were actually in Dublin? He also told us there was no response from anyone in Dublin about when or even if we would be allowed to land. Our luck just kept improving.
At this point I decided it would be best if I tried to get some sleep. I did doze a little but unfortunately I was wide-awake for when the cabin air-conditioning had to be switched off in order to de-ice the plane. Gradually the temperature began to rise and as time went by I began peeling off layers and fidgeting off my shoes, all well trying not to wake Lindsay who was out like a light in the seat next to me. She woke up not long after the air-conditioning was put back on. When I told her about what she had missed she replied with, “Hmmm, I thought it was getting warm in here.”
The bad luck kept coming. Our next announcement from the pilot was the information that if we were not allowed to head towards Dublin soon, his legal flying time would expire. He would only be allowed to lift-off in the next half hour before laws and regulations would require him to rest before flying again. With no word from anyone at Dublin Airport about the conditions of the runways, things were not looking too good for our flight.
The thirty minutes of our pilot’s remaining flying time seemed to go by about as quickly as molasses moving uphill in the winter. Finally, the announcement was made; Shannon would be the flight’s final stop. Moans and groans were heard all over the plane. Trying to look on the bright side, Lindsay and I discussed the fact that this was not a terrible thing. We could at least get off the plane soon if we were not going to fly to Dublin. Wrong again, more bad luck is coming.
Shannon Airport was a ghost town. It was around 8:00am and no one was at work. Apparently no early flights were scheduled to leave or depart the airport and our arrival was certainly unexpected. Due to security reasons, we were not allowed to get off of the airplane and enter the airport until staff arrived. While some other passengers chose to complain, rather loudly, Lindsay and I could not help but laugh about the situation we were in. Yes, it was annoying that no one was working at the airport, but the two of us agreed that neither of us would enjoy having to be at any job that early.
Lindsay and I decided to make ourselves as comfortable as possible and enjoy more in-flight television and movies. We sat on the airplane for another hour before hearing from the pilot. Around 9:00am he began to make another announcement over the intercom. This had to be it, the news we were all waiting for, that we could get off of the plane! No. “Still no sign of anyone working in the airport yet”, he told us with a sad tone in his voice.
This was becoming more and more of a comical experience. Yes, it was annoying that we had been sitting on a plane for almost three hours without actually going anywhere, but honestly, it is a bit humorous that at 9:00am the only people who had showed up for work at the airport were members of the cleaning staff. It was New Year’s Day though, so perhaps a late evening the night before was the explanation for why everyone showed up late to work that day.
Employees began to arrive around 9:15am and at that time the pilot made the announcement, sounding a bit more chipper than earlier, that we would be able to disembark soon! Cheers and applause filled the plane. We still sat for almost a half hour before people at the front of the plane were allowed to get off. Lindsay and I finally stood up to gather our belongings and walk to an exit. At last, we were off of the plane and setting foot in Ireland! All that was left to do was to get to Cork and to our apartment, easier said than done.
I was hoping the rest of our travels for the day would go more smoothly. After getting through customs and picking up our luggage we made our way to the bus stop outside of the airport. We had bought our tickets, checked the number of the bus to Cork as well as its departure time. How could things go wrong? Our luck had to be improving, right?
The bus pulled up not long after we got to the stop and we loaded, with some difficulty, our luggage on to it. All systems were go until we handed our tickets to the bus driver only to be informed that the bus was going to Galway, not Cork. Off we went and scrambled to grab our luggage before the doors to the stow-away area began to close and the bus pulled out leaving us in the middle of the street. We wheeled our bags back into the airport with our heads hanging low, checked the schedule once again, and sat for another hour waiting for the right bus.
We did manage to eventually get on the correct bus and although both Lindsay and myself tried to stay awake during the ride, we could not help but sleep through most of the trip. We arrived in Cork around 3:00pm and had absolutely no idea where anything was located, including our apartment. We were not allowed to move in until 6:00pm anyways so we decided to find some place to sit and eat something. Having forgotten that it was New Year’s Day, we wondered why everything was closed until we remembered that it was a holiday.
Lindsay and I were running out of hope and energy when we stumbled upon a McDonald’s that was open. Our first meal in Ireland was McDonald’s apple pie, quite a ways away from authentic Irish food. We ordered our pies and coffee off of the “Euro-saver” menu and felt that our measly purchases still entitled us to occupy a booth there for close to three hours, which we did. When it was getting close to 6:00pm we decided to leave the fine dining establishment and find a taxi to take us to our apartment on Brandon Road.
There is no Brandon Road in Cork. Although we fought this issue with our taxi driver he assured us that we actually lived on Bandon Road and that is where he would take us. Turns out, once again, we had the wrong information; at least we ended up at the right place. The warden of the apartment units signed us in, gave us keys, and showed us our apartment. He also came back a few minutes later to turn the water heater on for us, although it did not really make much of an improvement.
The heaters in our five-bedroom apartment had been off for weeks and both Lindsay’s and my own bedroom were freezing. We were exhausted and wanted desperately to fall asleep so we put on as many layers as we could and ended up sleeping side by side in an attempt to make the most out of body heat. Our sleep was restless to say the least and the next morning we were too tired to do much of anything. If we had not run out of our supply of granola bars, we may not have ever left our apartment.
Things got better gradually. We went back to city centre and got our bearings a bit more. We found a grocery store and by the time we came back to our apartment, it had warmed up substantially. A few days later our three other apartment-mates arrived and not long after that classes began. Our lives began to fall into a routine that was enjoyable. We did not have to worry about rerouted flights, getting on the wrong bus, or having to sleep in freezing bedrooms.
Lindsay and I began to travel around Ireland, meet new people, and I have had the time of my life while studying abroad here. The annoyances I experienced at the beginning of my trip seem incredibly insignificant when I compare them to all of the amazing places I have seen and the wonderful friends I have made. I am not sure whether my bracelet actually is lucky or not, but I know for certain, that I am lucky to have had such a great time, with so few annoyances, in Ireland.
Monday, March 22, 2010
That's Got a Nice "Ring" to It
Reader, please knock on some wood for me. I only have fake-wood furniture in my room and I do not intend to tempt fate, especially when it comes to the Irish weather. Two weeks ago, Lindsay and I went on a trip to the Ring of Kerry organized by Marian Ní Shúilliobháin, a Modern Irish lecturer at UCC. The weather was amazing, the accommodation and meals were excellent, the company could not have been better, and of course, the scenery was breathtaking.
The trip ran from Friday afternoon to Sunday evening and we were able to see so much in such a short period of time. Marian, being from Kerry herself, provided us with an insider’s guide of the area.
Early Friday evening our group, consisting of thirty or so UCC students and a handful of students from the National University of Ireland - Galway, arrived at the Ring of Kerry Hotel in the town of Cahersiveen. On the way we actually drove through Killorglin, which if you recall from my first blog entry, is a larger town near Callinafercy – home to Nana Galvin before she came to the United States! I must admit, I found it pretty exciting to be so close to “home!”
We ate dinner at the hotel (yum!) and then went into a function hall to sit and listen to our guest speaker for the night, Maurice Fitzgerald, a famous Gaelic Footballer. Maurice spoke to us about how important Gaelic sports are to the Irish, especially for children. The Gaelic Athletic Association organizes Gaelic football, hurling, rounders, and Gaelic Handball. Football and hurling are the two most popular sports and after watching my flatmate Emma play in camogie (the women’s version of hurling) matches, I can completely understand how one could develop great sportsmanship, athletic ability and a wonderful competitive spirit by playing. Maurice had brought his ten year old son with him so that they could go back and forth with the football and show us some moves used in regular games. When his son told us he was on three different football teams and all of the practices he attended, I was reminded of my own days of Weymouth Youth Soccer and hiding under a living room end-table attempting to get out of going to practice…
Friday evening had concluded with ceili dancing, almost like a version of Irish line-dancing or as Marian referred to it, “Irish speed-dating.” It was a great way to meet everyone else and the jigging, jumping, and jiving ensured a good night’s sleep. Waking up feeling very well rested, Saturday started with an early breakfast and then it was back on the bus for sight-seeing. I’m sorry I won’t be providing you with loads of details of the scenery we saw. Would you mind the general summary of “everything was breathtaking, gorgeous, and green”? I’d love to show you my pictures sometime though, just ask!
Saturday evening is what I would really like to blog about. We had another guest speaker, Cait, a self-described “real South Kerry woman.” She did not appear nervous at all to speak to us although she later admitted that with English as a second language, Irish is her first language, she had worried we would not understand her properly. She had not reason to worry, we all understood her perfectly and her humor and easy-going nature captivated us, not easily done with a group of college students I might add. The amazing thing is, she did not talk to us about a near-death experience, a miraculous event, or anything at all that would ever make news headlines. Cait simply told us about her life growing up in Kerry. I knew I would absolutely have to include this in my blog when she described her childhood by saying “as kids, we weren’t slaves, we were just busy.”
Busy for my childhood was a dentist appointment and soccer practice (if I was dragged from beneath the end-table). Busy for Cait was walking to the well to get two buckets of water or to the store for oil for the one gas lamp in her home. She took shortcuts across a peat bog to get to school, often stopping to investigate birds’ nests, frogs, and any other interesting creature. When the teacher asked why she was late, as she often was, her reply of “we don’t have a clock at home,” may have been a lie but it was totally believable and a suitable excuse. She remembers when electricity first came to her region. This prompted the polite question from Lindsay of “so, not to be rude, but you grew up in 19…?”
Did I forget to mention Cait was 112? No, just kidding. She was not bothered at all to tell us she was sixty years old and the childhood she spoke of had been the typical childhood for almost anyone growing in Ireland during the 1950s. Amazing, isn’t it, to think of how rapidly things have changed? While Cait may have been excited to receive clothes or a doll from America on Christmas morning, I jumped for joy when I opened my battery-operated (and looking back now, a bit creepy) Furby. Different, different times. Now, don’t go and quote me and tell people I’d be happy to walk thirty minutes to the nearest water source every day, but I really don’t think I would mind a bit of a simpler life. Less technology, less hustle and bustle, more peace and quiet, more time to spend with friends and family.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
You've Got a Friend In Me
Because I know you have been anxiously awaiting my follow-up blog about homesickness, here it is. And guess what – it is about you! That’s right, the other type of homesickness I have felt here in Ireland is the feeling of missing my family and friends back home.
Packing two bags and relocating to a new country for five months brings many challenges and one of the hardest ones I faced was meeting new people and finding new friends. I have never been a fan of being thrown into a situation with people I am not good friends with but I am hoping after this semester I will be a bit better at meeting new people. I am extremely lucky to have Lindsay to spend my semester abroad with, but believe it or not, we do actually enjoy other people’s company as well. Finding those people was the tricky part though. Forming relationships with people takes time and it was hard not to have the same type of support I have back home. I have known my friends for ages and if you’ve ever met my family, you are aware of what a unique type of support they offer…laughter is the cure for everything, is it not?
The homesickness I felt for my family and friends was more difficult to cope with than my scratchy duvet. Thankfully, with the help of the amazing worldwide web, it has been easy to keep in touch with everyone back home. Facebook and Skype are the two main ways I communicate with friends and family although I am still a huge fan of sending and receiving (*hint hint*) snail mail. It is wonderful to use Skype and see my parents at home or my friends at school. It almost feels like I never left. I say almost because I was reminded of how far away I truly am when my mother made me give her a hug over Skype before I hung up with her one day. For some reason it just was not the same as an actual hug…
I am happy to report that I have made friends here and I now refer to my apartment, complete with scratchy duvet, as “home.” When I am away on weekend trips I actually miss being at the apartment. As amazing as all of the things I have seen in Ireland are, I still relish in the evenings spent in the kitchen of Apartment 19 drinking tea (of course tea, we are in Ireland) with Fiona, Lindsay, Emma, Mairéad, and myself (Team F.L.E.M.M., perhaps we should coin a better nickname). I am sure that when I go home I will miss my friends here the same way I miss you right now.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Good Night, Sleep Tight
It does not seem possible, but I am now closer to the end of my time in Ireland than I am to the beginning of my study abroad experience. I have no idea how two and half months went by so quickly. Although I still feel like it was only yesterday that I landed (and sat waiting on the plane for four hours) in Shannon and I vividly remember my first meal in Ireland (a McDonalds’s apple pie ordered off of the “Euro Menu”), after ten weeks of studying abroad, it is certainly safe to say I have had my bouts of homesickness. Thankfully, there have been no major meltdowns and to be honest, the adjustment of being away from home was not as difficult as I thought it would be. Perhaps going to college five hundred miles away from home makes the jump to studying abroad five thousand kilometers away from home a little easier.
The conclusion I have come to is that there are two main types of homesickness. The first type is what I felt during my first few weeks in Cork. I missed my stuff. Yes, it was that simple. Until February one of the things I missed most about home was my own bed. I could make it through the days just fine, but once I turned off the lights and got in bed, I wished I were at home. My duvet was scratchy, my mattress was lumpy, and the heat from the radiator never seemed to reach my bed. These small nuisances culminated into feelings of “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” Unfortunately, though I did manage to bring over a dozen pairs of shoes in my luggage, I forgot to throw in my ruby red slippers. I just wanted the familiar coziness of my bed at home. During the day, I was dealing with all sorts of new things; a different campus, living with new people, attempting to understand tricky accents and foreign slang. By the time I was ready for dreamland, I was done dealing with new things with an open mind. I missed my bed. I missed my stuff.
Luckily, as days went by and turned into weeks, I adjusted. I know my way, sort of, around campus, I would like to kidnap my three Irish flatmates and bring them home with me, even Emma whose Waterford accent sometime just makes me tilt my head to the side and say “I don’t think I understood one word you just said…”, and I started to have quite a good bit of craic (pronounced like “crack,” it is Irish for “fun”). I have made peace with my duvet and discovered just how to curl up in bed to avoid any and all lumps. While I still feel that whoever decided putting a radiator on a wall beneath a desk should not be in charge of the heating layout in student apartment, at least my scratchy duvet is warm.
It seems my desire to blog always hits in the wee hours of the morning. Upon completion of this entry, I will be going to bed – yes the very same bed I just blogged about! Be sure to come back later this week when I blog about the other type of homesickness (I can feel your anticipation growing). It is a little bit deeper than my longing for a pillow-top mattress. : )
The conclusion I have come to is that there are two main types of homesickness. The first type is what I felt during my first few weeks in Cork. I missed my stuff. Yes, it was that simple. Until February one of the things I missed most about home was my own bed. I could make it through the days just fine, but once I turned off the lights and got in bed, I wished I were at home. My duvet was scratchy, my mattress was lumpy, and the heat from the radiator never seemed to reach my bed. These small nuisances culminated into feelings of “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” Unfortunately, though I did manage to bring over a dozen pairs of shoes in my luggage, I forgot to throw in my ruby red slippers. I just wanted the familiar coziness of my bed at home. During the day, I was dealing with all sorts of new things; a different campus, living with new people, attempting to understand tricky accents and foreign slang. By the time I was ready for dreamland, I was done dealing with new things with an open mind. I missed my bed. I missed my stuff.
Luckily, as days went by and turned into weeks, I adjusted. I know my way, sort of, around campus, I would like to kidnap my three Irish flatmates and bring them home with me, even Emma whose Waterford accent sometime just makes me tilt my head to the side and say “I don’t think I understood one word you just said…”, and I started to have quite a good bit of craic (pronounced like “crack,” it is Irish for “fun”). I have made peace with my duvet and discovered just how to curl up in bed to avoid any and all lumps. While I still feel that whoever decided putting a radiator on a wall beneath a desk should not be in charge of the heating layout in student apartment, at least my scratchy duvet is warm.
It seems my desire to blog always hits in the wee hours of the morning. Upon completion of this entry, I will be going to bed – yes the very same bed I just blogged about! Be sure to come back later this week when I blog about the other type of homesickness (I can feel your anticipation growing). It is a little bit deeper than my longing for a pillow-top mattress. : )
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
