The End

I have a theory about travel. It only takes as long as you need time to adjust your mindset to the place that you're going. Thus, the day long trek which I endured to get from Galway to Milford was much needed time to realize that my trip was indeed over. The last month in Ireland was a hectic one. I spent the week which saw November turn to December visiting my friends in Greifswald Germany. And the next two weeks after that studying for finals and writing two final papers. Naturally my laptop died the day before my first final, so I have been without a computer for some time. However, it once again works and I am merely attempting to bring a sense of finality to my blog. (As you may have guess I never could keep a diary as a child either)

So, while I was in Germany I stayed with my friend Izzy at her apartment and we wandered around Greifswald, which I missed doing. Also, we took the train (which was inevitably late) with a few other friends to Rostock for the giant Christmas market, which as amazing and made for a wonderful evening. The Christmas market in Greifswald was not nearly as large or beautiful. On my last day I took a train to Berlin and visited a Christmas market there. Also very beautiful at night.

I had two finals - German and European politics. German oral went rather well I thought considering it took place the day after I arrived back from a week in Germany with native German speakers. However, the written grammatical proved to be much harder than I had anticipated, but I do believe that I at least passed. European politics was a wicked essay exam and by the time I reached my third essay (Talk about Spanish nationalism with reference to Basque and Catalonia) - I had little steam left and sadly, Spain was rather poorly explained. I had two final papers for Early Medieval Irish history and High Medieval Irish Archaeology. Each was 3,000 words in length and though I tried so hard, they both went over the word limit. I feel as if I had some sort of problem which needs to be cured with less information.

The last two weeks saw no traveling or adventures of any kind, save the precious time spent around town with friends whom I'll never forget. Both my Irish friends (who elicited a lot of tears from me) and my American friends, who received almost none, but only because we all convinced ourselves that we were not saying goodbye - only "see you later"s. It still seems odd that I won't be seeing these people every day. It's amazing how close people can become when they are abroad. I find that when in Europe (especially in a nation which doesn't speak English prevalently) even a Canadian can elicit excitement. Despite the promised facebook messages and reunion parties planned across the country, things will never again be the same as they were in those four months which we shared. But I wouldn't change it for the world. The people I met were amazing, and the experiences we had are irreplaceable. Thus, while life goes on, that time and place will always be the same for us. And I think that's pretty worthwhile, wouldn't you?

Northern Ireland Weekend Extravaganza!

Ok folks, this entry will, I’m certain, prove to be a long one, so I shall skip the usual apology for waiting so long between entries and hope that you take my word for it that I’m extremely busy.

This past weekend, my study abroad program brought all the programs from across Ireland (Maynooth, Limerick, Belfast, Dublin, Cork & Galway) to Belfast for a long weekend in Northern Ireland. We all left on Thursday morning last and invaded the Jury Inn like Vikings – in other words, we came, we ate, we left a mess. I do believe that between the groups, there are around 80 of us, so I trust that your prayers go out to the lovely people at the hotel who entertained us with smiles on their faces throughout the ordeal of two floors filled with college kids on vacation.

The bus ride from Galway was a tiring, but manageable five hours to Belfast, but my heart really goes out to the Limerick program who spent 8 hours on that coach bus, starting in Limerick, swinging over to Cork to pick up those kids and then heading straight up the coast to NI. However, after a long day for every one of us, I was happy to see my friend Jill from the Limerick program, who visits Galway often and happily agreed to be my roommate for the weekend! Needless to say the night involved a lot of everyone running from room to room and calling each other on the room phones (it was agreed that it was exciting to once again use a landline phone, as it reminded us of the good old days of middle school when we called our friends on the family phone).

However, after chatting it up until we all fell asleep from exhaustion, early the next morning (Friday morning) we all assembled, bleary eyed at breakfast for an early departure on those same buses for a day tour of Northern Ireland. I should pause here and say that my impression of Northern Ireland is that of a completely different country than the Republic of Ireland. I honestly wasn’t anticipating much of a difference between the two nations, but there is a clear delineation between the two, at least visually. This may sound rather obvious given the history of the two countries, but Northern Ireland truly does look more British. The way the houses are built and the towns are set up and the scenery in general truly does evoke a more English way of life. The accents are entirely their own however, a kind of heavy Irish/Scottish peppered with “cheerio”s, which I do believe is the product of the historical presence of the Scottish Presbyterians in Ulster (Northern Ireland). In any case, my bus had a rather nice tour guide named Virginia Moriarty who immediately made me think of Sherlock Holmes, and rather less immediately caused an infection of drowsiness across the entire bus. However, she was plucky and ploughed on with her history of Northern Ireland and list of famous people who called it home (or ancestral) as we drove along the Antrim coast road, which is breathtakingly beautiful and a little nerve-wracking.

The first stop of the day was at a beautiful national park named something along the lines of Carrick-a-Rede (if I recall correctly) where the cliffs were very cool, the water a clear teal blue and the rope-bridge to the adjacent island very, very high up. I was happily oblivious of the bridge as we strolled along the beautiful path towards the bridge, snapping pictures. But then we were given a ticket which we would need to hand the ranger manning the bridge and I tried not to think about it. Of course, as it came my turn to hand over my ticket and step past the archway which covered the entrance to the bridge, I spotted the bridge made of rope and planks, wide enough only for an average-sized person, 60 feet long and 100 feet up over the ocean onto a little island. So, I am so very sorry to report, my mind just went blank with fear and I naturally started to sob and hyperventilate. Poor Scott standing next to me just didn’t know what to do so I ran the other way back up the path where I met the nicest girl ever – Chelsea, who fortified me with a hug and a few words. It’s quite embarrassing to admit, but I seem to have developed a greater and greater fear of falling from a height. But, I suppose everyone has their “thing” which turns them into a damsel in distress.

Back onto the bus within the hour, I was once again ready to prove to the entire IFSA Butler program that I was not, in fact, insane. Luckily, at the next stop, my stunt was completely forgotten because of an even better one. We pulled up to the beautiful ruins of Dunluce Castle which sit on the edge of a cliff (the Irish seriously have a thing for cliffs). The grass was so green, and the ocean lay just below the hollow remains of a magnificent castle. So, naturally, one of the girls of the program proclaimed a long-harbored desire to “storm a castle” and so started running full speed at it while yelling some sort of unintelligible battle cry. Of course everyone turned to look at her as she did so, therefore, naturally, she slipped on the wet grass and flew down the hill, catching air on the way down. And just as you’d expect, we all clapped for her. A memory to treasure forever.

After lunch at a seaside hotel, we next invaded the Giant’s Causeway. This strange rock formation was the creation of a volcanic eruption and basalt rock, but the locals much prefer the story of the giants who created it. Our tour guide gave us the extended version, but for time’s sake I’ll give you the abbreviated one. There once was a giant who lived on the shore of Ireland which faces Scotland, and he used to shout across the straight to the giant on the shores of said adjacent country. Well he built the causeway to cross to the other side after threatening the Scottish giant, but he spotted how much bigger the other giant was and he ran back home. Well his giantess wife was very cunning and she dressed her husband up like a baby and invited the Scottish giant into her home and showed him her “baby” while her husband was out hunting. The Scottish giant took one look at that giant baby and thought about how big the dad must be, and he high-tailed it back to Scotland, ripping up the causeway as he went. Fun story isn’t it? Nevertheless, the rock formations are very cool and we had fun climbing them as kids do.

Finally we headed home for dinner and were set loose into the city to find our way. Luckily, my friends and I found a fantastic Mexican Restaurant that was so good we ate ourselves into a food coma and crashed in our luxurious hotel double beds that night. And did I mention the shower/tub? Like washing in a palace compared to the cubicle I’ve been whacking my elbows against for the past 3 months.

Saturday morning it was arranged for us all to take a black-taxi tour of the city which centered on West Belfast and the Protestant-Catholic conflict. This was by far the most touching and profound of my experiences in Northern Ireland given that our drives were a mixture of Protestants and Catholics who lived through it and have made peace with it and each other. My driver was Tom, and he is an Irish Catholic, and he was just one of the funniest and nicest people I’ve ever met. He gave us his own personal stories mixed with the historical facts and we got out in Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods where he and the other drivers lived. It was a powerful tour and remarkable to us Americans who grew up post Cold-War and in comfortable suburbs. We even learned of the quasi-cold war that exists today between the groups. We even signed the walls built around the Catholic neighborhood to keep rocks and people out. To this day the gates to the neighborhood are locked every night at seven to keep unwanted visitors out. That just astounds me, but our drivers/guides told us that they expect these walls to come down in our lifetime if not theirs, and the wall is covered with signatures and messages of hope and love for unified Belfast. It was a poignant part of the day.

After our tour, we were given free time for the rest of our stay and I joined many people in wandering around the Christmas market downtown for a few hours. It was very interesting place, with vendors from all over Europe, and I had to remind myself that I had absolutely no use for a Reindeer pelt or a wild-boar burger. I did, however, partake in some mulled wine and an almond pastry while I gawked – yum.

After the Christmas Market came a visit to Victoria’s Square shopping Mall, which is this remarkable outdoor mall that you just sort of have to see to appreciate. It’s immense for one thing, and modern in design, which makes the upper floors sort of float. It’s hard to explain, I highly suggest seeing it for yourself. Or perhaps just ask me for pictures. It is here that we first stumbled across a couple of twenty-something guys with t-shirts and big signs that proclaimed- “FREE HUGS”. I was skeptical of course, but upon further investigation, my large group of friends all agreed that they were very good huggers, and that they just wanted to spread some joy around. They gave us a business card and their facebook page does in fact list them as a kind of non-profit organization which is just dedicated to brightening up your day with hugs. We spotted them 3 more times before the day was through – and yes we hugged them every time. As a group we also agreed that Americans are far too cynical about such things, and that if you tried to do that in some place like New York or Chicago, you might be punched, arrested, or simply given strange looks while people made a wide-berth around you.

Dinner once again, was eaten out and about, but it was more difficult to find a table this time around seeing as how we had accumulated nine people on our search for food. Finally, T.G.I. Fridays found a spot for us after 50 minutes of waiting. So we scarfed down our American style food and regrouped at the hotel (and by regrouped I mean a myriad of things including napping, showering, watching X-Factor, and one industrious room of boys who filled their bathtub with ice cubes and bear bottles). While I should note that among the eighty or so group of students there, there was an excursion into the city every night, but I only partook in the one on Saturday night which found us at a local pub for a couple of hours. It was fun and I had a lovely conversation with a man who introduced himself by saying: “Did you know you look like David Bowie?” Oh the people you find in pubs. However, fear not, any of you who were worried about my honor; my large group of friends was within touching distance the entire time we were out and about and we work as team, keeping eyes on each other at all times – promise.

Sunday morning was a sad one when we had to bid adieu to all our friends who were studying in different cities, especially my lovely roommate Jill, who is a geology major and literally salivated over the geographical voodoo at the Giant’s Causeway. The weekend was exactly what I needed before the next two-week push towards final exams and the end of the semester. Now, all that’s left is onwards and upwards.

A Few Things Learned

There a few things, reader, that studying abroad can teach you. Of course there is the apparent and hoped-for, such as, “they’re really not so different from us”, and “Gee, I would love to work some day to bridge the gap between this nation and my own”. But there are also things which you learn about yourself from living on your own, and about the world in the process which may surprise you, and which sometimes doesn’t. Here’s a partial list of things that I’ve been noticing and can recall at this moment in time:
1. Food: I’m a good cook; I love cooking and then inviting people over to share; I am willing to spend the most money on food.
2. America: Americanization is happening all around the world, but they really don’t like people from other countries trying to use our websites – a lot of videos and music are blocked if you’re connecting from out of the country; American politics and economics pervades everywhere else – I always just figured that when called ourselves a world influence we were just being really narcissistic, but nearly everyone you talk to can tell you about how politics function in the US and/or cultural things like how accents sound from different regions and how much of a flop that last Tom Cruise movie was; America is all about freedom, but you realize how puritanical it can be when things over there are a matter of heaven and hell, and over here, it’s just a part of life that you can accept or reject and you move on (i.e. alcohol, drugs, gay marriage). We are a passionate people, that’s for sure!
3. People: People are for the most part, very nice and welcoming (and this is not just here in Ireland, but it’s something that I’ve noticed whenever I’ve gone away); walking up to people and just starting a conversation is not nearly as scary as it might seem – I’ve made a lot of friends that way.
4. Different parts of the world look totally different, and they’re breathtaking and fascinating and always worth seeing because it adds a new dimension to your understanding of the world and its differences and how they happened.
5. I really like America. As much as I just complained about it, and as much as I really enjoy Europe and new places and new people, I will be happy to be home. It’s familiar, it’s beautiful, and sometimes it’s super annoying, but it’s my home and I’m proud of it. I think that going abroad is one of the best ways you can really get to know your own country – how other people see it, how it functions (or appears to function) abroad, and you’ll be surprised how willing you are to boast about it or defend it. Growing up I always complained about living in the U.S. and how I couldn’t wait to leave, but now that I’ve learned how to live in new places, I’ve discovered that I want to live in the U.S. of A. Go figure.

Galway to Dublin to London and back!

Just in case, dear reader, you thought my life was nothing more interesting than attending classes at the moment (well, you’d be partially to mostly correct), I am here to tell you that I spent the weekend in London, England, just so spice things up a bit. While I have been to London before, it is a great city, and I was happy to go again with three friends from my study abroad program who hadn’t been there before. So, on Friday afternoon after class, we boarded a bus from Galway to Dublin, and boarded a flight from Dublin to Stanstead Airport. On Friday night we boarded a bus from Stanstead Airport into London, and then boarded a subway train to our Hostel where we promptly passed out for the night. The only truly exciting occurrence on Friday night was that our bus from the airport dropped us off on Baker Street, more specifically across the street from 221B Baker Street, which I was extremely excited about because that, as I’m sure you all know, is the address of Sherlock Holmes, Detective and John Watson, tag-along Doctor. I promptly took a picture in which you can’t even read the address because it is a black door, and it was around 11 o’clock at night, but it is a picture for my Father, who turned me on to mystery novels in the first place (probably before I could even read).

Our hostel was nice; it was clean and the staff were helpful, and our beds were a place to sleep. The bathroom, however, was in our room, but it looked literally as if someone had transplanted an airplane bathroom into a hostel, somehow managing to fit the tiniest shower you’ve ever seen on the side. I could stand straight in it, but if I tried to maneuver at all, I hit curtain or wall. The stall shower I’ve got here in Ireland seemed small before, but it seems spacious now that I’m back from that hostel. And when I get home in December and shower in our bathtub/shower, I’m going to feel as if I’m showering in a downright palace!

The next morning, we awoke bright and early and grabbed a map of London and a few pamphlets before setting out to find a café for breakfast. We were quickly rewarded with a small place which promised a full English breakfast of toast, beans, bacon, eggs, sausages, orange juice AND tea. Well, when in Rome…

So we ate and we talked we came up with a game plan for the day. Following breakfast we took a walk through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, which was absolutely beautiful given that Saturday in London was an absolutely amazing weather day: I didn’t see a cloud in the deep blue sky once and the sun was shining and there was just a little nip in the air that ensured that we didn’t get hot while walking all day. While in Kensington Gardens we all made sure to take pictures with the statue of Peter Pan and “oooo” and “ahhh” at the swans and the roses. But all too soon it was time to catch up with the walking tour that we would be taking at 11, so we walked to Hyde Park Corner, and then crossed the street to the Wellington Arch were we started our tour. We took the NewEurope tour of London, which I had taken previously in Munich, and I must say that both times I really enjoyed myself and I suggest them (especially because the tours are free minus any tip you feel you want to give to the guide). We spent 2 ½ hours walked around London with commentary, and we saw so many things – Buckingham Palace, the residence of Charles & Camilla, the residence of Prince Harry, St. James Palace, 10 Downing Street (which is very heavily guarded & you can’t get close), Churchill’s war-time bunker, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben etc. My friend Chelsea even got to help demonstrate how someone is drawn and quartered for treason (don’t worry; we mostly just used our imaginations).

After our tour, we made our way back to Hyde Park Corner using the Tube and we ate a late lunch/early dinner at the Hard Rock Café. It was nice to sit and talk and admire the memorabilia and order copious amounts of food. But around 5 o’clock, we decided to start making our way to Tower Hill Tube Stop because that was where the night-time walking ghost tour started. Well, much to our chagrin, half of the tube lines were closed down for maintenance work and after an hour and a half of changing subway lines over and over and then trying to find the spot on foot, we missed the tour entirely. I was not happy, because I’d really wanted to take the tour and see where Jack the Ripper did his dirty work and hear about all the strange and gruesome things that were done in the Tower of London and such. However, we found our way to the tower ourselves and proceeded to cross the Tower Bridge, which was, admittedly, very pretty at night. And then we took the tube again over to Piccadilly Circus, which looks a bit like Times Square at night, and then we walked along the street where a lot of the theatres are, and we came across China Town, which was pretty cool and it smelled like food – yum! And then we stumbled across M&Ms world London, which was huge and colorful and fun to walk through, and I just couldn’t resist buying a mug. Finally, we made our way back through Trafalgar Square, across St. James Park (where our tour guide swore to us that there is a pack of pigeon-eating Pelicans though we never saw any) and back over to see Big Ben and the London Eye lit up at night. Finally, Chelsea was literally falling asleep while standing and we headed back to the hostel and all agreed that it was a very successful day.

Sunday morning we checked out of our hostel and had several hours to do a bit more sightseeing before we left, so we ate breakfast at a different café, and got on the tube to visit the Dr. Who experience and store on the outskirts of London. For those of you who don’t know, Dr. Who is a show about a time-traveling police call box and the people who save the world repeatedly by using this time-traveling Tardis. I don’t personally make a habit of watching the show, but several of my best friends are obsessed (and my friend Scott’s Dad). Next, we headed over to St. Paul’s Cathedral. However, it was Sunday morning, and they wouldn’t let in tourists because of the services being held, which didn’t bother me, because I’ve seen it, but I felt bad for the others who hadn’t. We also talked about how St. Paul’s appears in Mary Poppins, when she sings of the woman who feeds the birds on the steps of St. Paul’s. Near to St. Paul’s is the millennium bridge which brings you across the Thames and over to the reproduction of Shakespeare’s old Globe Theatre (!). We didn’t have much time left before we had to catch our bus, so we only took a picture from the outside and grabbed something from the gift shop. (Note to self – new trip to London where I take a tour of the Globe, take that ghost tour, visit the British Museum, and see a show on the West End)

So, on Sunday afternoon, we boarded a bus from Baker Street to Stanstead Airport, boarded a plane from Stanstead to Dublin, and then Sunday night, we boarded a bus from Dublin to Galway. A tiring, but fun and successful weekend.

Killary Adventure Weekend - Adventures and Sore Muscles Guaranteed

This past weekend was a great one that I’ll never forget and that left me sore and tired – as all unforgettable weekends should.

The program with which I’m studying abroad brought together all of its students across Ireland (Dublin, Cork, Limerick, Belfast, and Galway) to the Killary Adventure Center in Connemara. I should note now that I have a distinct lack of pictures from this weekend since it is impractical to carry a camera while adventuring.

We each arrived on Friday afternoon from all over the country and immediately were assigned to dormitories and instructed to sign up for a program for the afternoon. I signed up with a few of my friends from Galway to do the rock wall, the “Big Swing” and abseiling. What a day. The rock wall I’d done before, so it was pretty straight forward. Though there’s no way that I managed to get more than one-third up that wall – it was probably about 4 or 5 stories high. Although some of my able-bodied and highly impressive friends made it up to the top, and the rest impressed me with their height as well. Next was the “Big Swing”, which we found out was a contraction that lifts you 50 feet into the air and then lets you go and you end up swinging back and forth. My terror at the mere thought of a roller-coaster was quickly made known to my companions, but they are some of the most supportive and encouraging friends a girl could ever ask for and they made me do it (for lack of a better way to put it). So I was tied into the contraption in about a dozen different ways to ensure my safety (though it did little for my nerves), and I was hoisted up to the starting position alongside Matt, seeing as how the swing was a two-seater.

In order to initiate the drop, the swingers must pull a cord, and so my mind went blank with terror as I gazed ahead at a gorgeous Connemara mountain and Matt tugged on the cord. The drop was horrifying, and the instructors likened it to a place crash. I remember that at some point my eyes closed and soon enough I became aware that my screaming was probably audible to everyone within a mile’s distance. My friend Stephanie explained my scream to me at dinner that night. She said that it was fit for a horror movie and that she was impressed with my lung capacity as it didn’t seem to stop for the entire process (including swing-back – it doesn’t stop until it stops itself just like with a real swing). After getting unstrapped by the instructor, I ran away from it and proceeded to cry and hyper-ventilate for a few minutes, but I did it! And my friends all cheered me on and told me how impressed they were with me for trying to overcome fear. Didn’t work – in case you were wondering. Still scared out of my mind concerning roller coasters, this merely reinforced the sheer terror of dropping that I feel.
Abseiling is just repelling down a wall, and it was the other side of the rock wall, and thusly was the equivalent 4 or 5 stories high. This requires holding on to a rope while leaning backwards over the wall and walking down. Needless to say I did not partake in this activity. I think the Big Swing as enough for my nerves for at least the next few months. Please feel free to mock my sissy-ness, because it won’t change a thing.

That night I decided to make some new friends since I spend a lot of time with the Galway group and I spent the night with a group from Dublin. They were very welcoming and extremely nice. We ate dinner together and then formed a team for trivia afterward. We sucked to say the least. But it was a funny evening.
Saturday morning we all got up early and signed up for another activity. I did kayaking and gorge climbing. For the first time ever I put on a wet suit. At first I felt just disgusting, but it kept me completely warm in the fjord we were kayaking in (basically the Atlantic Ocean). We also had to wear sneakers for the event and it is a strange sensation to wear sneakers, a wet suit and a helmet while swimming. And swim I did, because each activity seemed designed only to make us tip over into the water. Also, when we first got in, our instructor paddled over and tipped me over because, he said, I just looked like a target. Granted, I was wearing a Barbie-pink helmet and sitting in a pink kayak…

However, that was really fun and the instructors made it really funny. Afterward they led us up a cliff to a spot called the Leap of Faith, where you jump off the cliff into the fjord. After much effort on the instructors’ part to talk me into jumping off the edge, I spent the whole time just freaking out about the drop and didn’t drop in. I watched the other kids do it a few times each, and then the instructors, and then we walked over to the gorge, which was basically a river coming down the mountain and we climbed up the river and its waterfalls, which was amazing and beautiful and really cool.

After a quick lunch, I signed up for a hill walk that promised a “pot of gold” at the end. It ended up being really fun, because our instructor for that knew the area well, and he carried a map with him and told us to dictate the walk. So we explored the hills of Connemara for a few hours. We often walked through the bog, which seems to envelope much of the area and we sunk – quite a lot. But it was really fun, and it was so beautiful to get up high and look around. We even found a little copse of trees that reminded me of my own back yard because of the rocky landscape and the kind of trees. Our “Pot of Gold” turned out to be a can of Guinness each halfway through the walk. And it was an interesting experience to hike while drinking beer. Only in Ireland. Oh, the sheep. There are sheep just everywhere in Connemara, seriously. And as we hiked around the mountain, they generally just scuttled away from us, but at one point, one of the sheep climbed up onto a rocky outcropping just to the left and ahead of us, and I had a staring contest with it for a good 3 minutes. Not entirely sure why he did what he did, but he got bored with it eventually and merely turned around and faded back into the mist. It was a little strange, but now I can say that I’ve had a staring contest with a sheep. Oh, and that I won.

After dinner, guitars were brought out and we all spent several hours milling about and enjoying the sounds of whatever songs the collective knew how to play on a guitar; which, turned out to be quite a bit considering they played for so long. We were very impressed. Additionally, the Adventure Center set up a “disco” for us, and fitted the cafeteria with Christmas lights and a DJ and we all danced much longer than I expected us to as a group since we were all clearly sore and tired from all the various activities we had been partaking in for the last 24 hours. (We actually all split into groups and did tons of different activities including zip-lining, high ropes course, laser combat etc.)

Sunday morning, there were a great many hang-overs and/or people just plain exhausted and there was low-participation in the activities, but I did join a group that did archery and clay-pigeon shooting. We had an archery contest and I am proud to say my group won both times (woo-hoo!), and then we switched over to shooting clay-pigeons. However, by this time, it was nearly lunch, and it was raining and the wind was so hard that I literally leaned back into it like I was going to lay down and it held me up. So after we each tried to shoot at 5 clay targets flying through the air, the rest of my group left, but I stayed behind and took about a dozen more shots or so. I was pretty disappointed in myself because I really only hit 3 targets and my dad is a competitive shooter that has brought me clay-pigeon shooting before. Sorry Dad, guess it’s not a genetic thing. I took my time walking back since I was on my own, and I just tried to enjoy the scenery and the whole thing and take it all in since we were set to leave after lunch.

All in all I really enjoyed the weekend and have accepted the fact that I enjoy a great many adventurous things in life without having to jump off of high things or plummet toward the ground. And I made some new friends in different cities that I hope to visit while I’m here, and whom I encouraged to come visit us in Galway. And, not to brag, but the general consensus this weekend seemed to be that the Galway group was the coolest of all the groups and the easiest to get along with. That’s right.

Procrastination Strikes Again

Dearest readers, the thing about procrastination is that once you're started, it's hard to stop. "Well, one more day won't hurt" seems to be my mantra every evening when I think that I should post something here on my blog for you all to read. I've been taking six classes, some of which are 5 days a week, and I've been making so many new friends and spending time with them that by the time I think I should post something, I'd rather just take a nap. My apologies. Since I've written last, I do believe that I have taken a bus tour of the Connemara region, which is just absolutely beautiful and should probably be seen by everyone at some point in their lifetime. The landscape is, well, I suppose the words to describe it are ruggedly beautiful, and I took far too many pictures of various mountains that probably all look the same in image, so I'll keep the posting to a few. We visited Kylemore Abbey, which beautifully situated on a lake in the Connemara Mountains, which makes the setting feel quite a bit like stepping into Hogwarts. I also went hiking on the mountain adjacent to Kylemore Abbey with a group of international students, where I met several of my new friends. I happened to be hiking the day that my roommate and a few other friends from my program were at the Abbey, and they reckon they saw me on the top around lunch time. That is when I was there, and they have a picture of what appear to be several people on the top, but it's so hard to tell when we were so far away from each other (vertically, that is).
But I'm sure you're curious about these friends I've been meeting, and don't fret Mom, they're not serial killers. Kathy is in my European Politics class, and one day we started talking about politics and didn't stop for 2 hours. We would've kept going had I not had another class. After that we've spent a lot of time flapping our gums, and not always necessarily about politics, which is nice. Marie, Ivan, and Leesa are in my German class (which is feeling less and less imposing thank goodness) and we also talk quite a bit. Marie is from France and she is spending the 3 years for a degree here so that she can work on her English. Leesa divides her time between her dad, who lives in Australia and her mom who lives here in Galway, and so she loves to tell us about Australia. Oddly enough, I've learned since I've been here that there is a rather large population of Irish in Australia, something I'd never thought of before. And Ivan is just so incredibly nice and thinks that me being from America is just the most fascinating thing. He's also mad about Britney Spears and I'm making plans to go see her in concert in Dublin with Ivan and Leesa.
Of course there are my Irish flatmates as well, and the others in my program - I probably still spend the most time with them. But they're quickly becoming some very close friends and I'm happy to have me them.
I spent the last two days in Dublin meeting up with my friend Jon, whom I went to high school with, and whom is studying in London this semester. He came over for the weekend with his friends from school and we all tried to explore the sopping-wet city of Dublin. We walked from place to place quite a bit, which I consider impressive when thinking how much extra weight we were carrying from wet clothes and bags. We spent a few hours outside of Dublin in Howth, which is a very pretty island. We walked to so many places I probably couldn't even tell you exactly what we saw between Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday morning. All I know is that I arrived back here in Galway this afternoon totally exhausted and with a few extra blisters on my feet. Oh, and with a mound of laundry waiting for me. Ah well, C'est la vie I suppose

When a Hurricane Hits Ireland

Tonight’s exciting adventure picks up on last Saturday morning, the 10th of September. In an effort to find a grander adventure than the one we had on Friday, Chelsea, Scott and I decided to spend the day on the Aran Islands, specifically, the largest island, Inis Mor. So at 8:30, we left the warmth and calm of our apartments to walk downtown to Eyre Square, where buses leave from, and we boarded a bus run by the ferry company to get to the ferry port about a half an hour away. I was seated beside an excitable woman from Pennsylvania, near the Philadelphia area as a matter of fact. That tenuous connection between us was still enough for her to keep up a conversation for the bulk of the time. Upon arrival at the port in a small town, we three students boarded the ferry and passed the time quickly with good conversation (a staple of travel I’ve discovered). Forty-five minutes later we arrived on the blustery island where we visited the tourist information center to procure a map and determine an itinerary. We decided to rent bikes for the day and bike on a hilly road through the middle of the island to the castle ruins on a cliff, and then follow a downhill path along the coast on the way back. The ride was gorgeous, albeit, tough. Clearly I am no longer in the same kind of shape that I once was in. However, that was the day that the remnants of a hurricane were to hit the island, and the wind soon started blowing us off course. For a time, rain pelted our faces as if someone was shooting a Beebe gun at us.

But the ride was worth it because of the rough and wild landscape that was dotted with thatched-roof houses, cows, and icons of the Virgin Mary and the Crucifixion. We finally reached a car park that was at the base of the hill where the castle ruins reside, and we stopped for a late lunch. Chelsea and I ordered a fantastically tasty beef and Guinness stew topped with mashed potatoes that warmed us to the bone and prepared us for the walk up to the ruins (Scott got lasagna, just in case you were wondering).

We were not anticipating the steep walk to the ruins, and as we climbed, the wind and the beauty of the views intensified. By the time we reached the top, I was literally being blown over, though I never fell over completely, being a sturdy 140 lbs (thank goodness for that!). The ruins stretched out quite far into the landscape, and walls still stood from the late Bronze Age! The remaining walls were in rings, and upon entering the inner-most ring, you enter an opening that abutted the sheer cliff that I was just too frightened to get to close too considering the strength of the wind. Someone in the group there threw an empty coke bottle towards the cliff, but the wind riding up the side of the rock wall picked it up, and as everyone watched, it rose a good twenty feet in the air and then flew backwards over the walls and out of sight. The power of wind is remarkable sometimes.

Chelsea wanted to look over the cliff, so she got down on her belly and army crawled to the edge, were she marveled at the drop (87 meters we found out later) and I watched her anxiously. After about a half an hour, we agreed upon descent. At the bottom we stopped to read about the history of the ruins at an indoor museum and then decided that it was the time to head back to catch the last ferry in time. Unfortunately, we tried to leave on our bikes at the same time as a group of about 50 German high-school-aged students and as we flew down a hill, we realized how scary it is to ride in such a large pack with little control over your speed, so we stopped and waited for them to pass us. By now, the sky was starting to look threatening and the waves were getting large. The wind was howling something awful as well! So we rode back towards town with all haste prompted by nervousness. After what felt like ages, we arrived back at the port, returned our bikes and even had time to stop in the store that sold masses of the famous Aran Island wool sweaters. I will admit that I had to get one; a nice green with wooden buttons that has already kept my marvelously and stylishly warm. The ferry ride was the last one of the day at 5 pm, and it was over packed with no seats to be had. Many people stood as we sailed across the choppy waters. On the bus ride back to Eyre Square I was once again seated next to a chatty partner, but this man was a lifelong resident of The Island headed into Galway for a visit for the night and pelted me with questions about the states (you live near Boston?! I have family in Boston!). He was a fisherman and was only too happy to tell me about his six-week old son named Liam is was just starting to smile. I was glad for the company to keep my occupied, because at this point, I was so cold and wet and tired that I tried not to think about the walk back to our apartment from Eyre Square. However, made it we did, where all three of us demurely entered our apartments to throw ourselves on the couch. Luckily, my friends weren’t up to going out, and we had a lovely girl’s night that never required me to leave the couch as we watched P.S. I Love You. All in all, it was an excellent day.

My photos and descriptions will never do The Island justice and you should visit it yourself if you ever can. People are very friendly, and the scenery makes you want to stop and take a picture every couple hundred yards. Additionally, you should partake in Beef and Guinness Stew if you ever get a chance, because it is marvelous when you’re cold and wet. I hope you get a chance to do all those things and more!