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!

Follow the Signs

Since I’ve written last, I’ve done a little bit of traveling, but mostly I’ve been trying to figure out my classes, which is a frustrating and daunting task in a country that is not my own and in a school that is very different from mine. Scheduling conflicts and credit transfers and seminars vs. lectures – it seems just too much sometimes. But alas! All things will find a way in the end, even if it causes me frustration and confusion, because, I suppose, that is the way of the world.

But in any case, you would rather hear about the side-trips that I’ve been taking. I can assure you that they’re nothing grand seeing as how college students are cheap and I can’t leave the country until my appointed meeting with the Garda (Irish Police) on September 22 where I prove to them that I’m not a terrorist and that I have enough money to be in this country for 3 more months.

On Friday morning, a lot of my friends went off to see the Cliffs of Moher because they somehow found a way not to have any class on Fridays. Luckily for me, I have class at 11. However, so does another friend, and a few of us waited until the afternoon and decided to merely go exploring and we took a 13 o’clock bus into the countryside. We stopped at a town called Oughterard and got out to be touristy and pop in the shops and take pictures. However, it took me almost no time at all to realize that my camera was gone and that it must have fallen out on the rather disconcerting bus-ride that went dizzyingly fast on a narrow windy road where the brush and trees actually scraped against the windows. In a panic at my own stupidity and inattentiveness we quickly found the number to the bus company in Galway and I explained my situation. The man I spoke with was very calm and nice and promised to call me back within a few hours. With nothing else to do about it, we set off towards a lake on the edge of town that was indicated by a sign with an arrow in the town center. Too bad there was only the one sign…

Chelsea, Scott, Carlee and myself walked and walked, in some rather areas with horses and such, but still, we figured that we had to be lost. Finally we saw the lake in the distance to our right, and attempted to make our way there. However, as anyone who has ever spent a good amount of time with me can tell you, I have absolutely no sense of direction. After a little bit longer it was getting hot (an exciting and rare occurrence here!) and Carlee and Chelsea suggested that we just turn around and head back into town. However, around the same time, a big sandy dog that to me looked like a lion had bounded up to us and was walking a little bit of ahead of us, but always turning around to keep us in sight. We stopped at a point where a little dirt road came off of our road and the dog bounded down it. Scott and I were game to follow, but Chelsea and Carlee were thoroughly unconvinced that the road would lead anywhere and were adamant that we should turn back. However, the dog seemed insistent that should follow him down this road and he kept running back to see if we were coming. Scott and I decided that it was a sign, and we told the girls to stay there and that we would just go around the corner and have a peek down the road.

Believe it or not, that dog had led us to the lake. There it was around the corner! It was large and beautiful and we took lots of pictures of it as the dog jumped in and ran around and shook his coat on us. I decided that because of his looks like a lion, and the prophet-like quality he had because of his opportune appearance and directions, I would name him Aslan, after the lion in the Chronicles of Narnia. I continue to refer to this mysterious dog as such, even though Chelsea insists that it is inappropriate to name a dog Aslan because one would not name a dog Jesus. I’m still trying to figure out what that one means, but I feel as if it’s not the same thing since Aslan is in fact, fictional…

In any case, we finally headed back into town, and as we walked, I received a call from the friendly bus man to tell me that my same bus was making a stop in Oughterard in 20 minutes time, and that the driver had my camera safe and sound for me. Huzzah! So we walked back into town, waited for the bus, retrieved my camera and headed back to Galway, where we finished the nice afternoon with a walk along shop street and down to the bay where we got milkshakes and ice cream. An interesting day for sure, but a good one.

Soaking Wet!

Dear readers, have you ever been in a car on a day where the rain is just coming down in diagonally slanted sheets, and you’re driving along, glad you’re inside the car and warm, when a puddle the size of a small pond is coming up and you have no choice but to drive through it? Perhaps you’ve even splashed the water onto some poor shmuck who had the misfortune of walking in that rain with naught but an umbrella and a jacket? Well dear readers, today I was that poor shmuck that you splashed water on. And wearing canvas shoes no less (in my defense it was sunny and still when I left this morning)! However, not only did I have the misfortune of being splashed on once, I had the misfortune of being splashed on three gloriously soggy times on my walk home from classes today. And what to do in such a situation? Honestly, I started laughing. I just walked and laughed at the whole situation. What else can you do? All I could think of was how I just became that poor shmuck without a car and forced to walk in the pouring rain. However, given that this is Ireland, so are about a million other people. The experiences of travel are varied, but I took this as just another aspect of the adventure. After all, it’s just a bit of water, and I am in no way green, so I needn’t worry.

The first day of classes was less strenuous than I had convinced myself they would be. All of my classes are on this area known as the concourse, which means that the 10 minutes given between classes gives me about 7 extra minutes to just sit there and look around. My first class was an archaeology class that looks at castle building in medieval Ireland and includes a field trip (yay!) in October. My European politics class assembled and waited for 20 minutes before we realized that no lecturer seemed to be coming, so we left and I got to have a half an hour of talk time with a very nice girl named Kathy who wanted to know how much America is really like the “Jersey Shore.” A modern Irish history class looks to be very interesting as well and promised an in-depth look into the culture of the American-Irish following the mass migration of the potato famine. All together it proved to be an interesting and wet day and I learned that the Irish students are entirely up to going out every single night here…