Cead Mile Failte!

While I was in Ireland, I didn’t really expect to experience reverse culture shock when I got back to the U.S. And while coming back home has felt surprisingly normal - I feel a little bit like I never left - I’ve definitely noticed some differences. Here’s a list of thoughts:

When I first got to Newark, I spent my hour there waiting for my flight to SFO in a bit of a daze (partially because I’d been on a plane for 7 hours, partially because I’d spent those 7 hours watching three movies). A woman standing outside an airport restaurant said hello to me and I was overjoyed, struggling not to shout, “HELLO MY FELLOW AMERICAN!” at her.

I also remembered that I could finally go back to Target, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that I almost cried.

A guy near me was ranting about how United is always late, and it occurred to me that I’d never heard an Irish person rant like that. People from Ireland tend to avoid conflict and say that everything’s fine even when it’s not. I suppose that’s something I can relate to.

Looking at Newark and San Francisco from the plane window made me yearn for the Irish countryside. I remember thinking, “God, there’s so many buildings here.” 

America is very diverse. I love Ireland, but there’s not a huge amount of diversity in that country.

There are a lot more palm trees in California than I remember there being. 

Also, it’s so warm here, and yet I was the only person I saw wearing shorts today. Californians. What a bunch of wimps. (I mean that as fondly as possible.)

I miss the Irish accent, although talking to Irish people always made me feel self-conscious about how my own accent sounds.

The houses are so spread apart here. And they all look so different. 

Food comes in such gigantic containers in this country; I was actually gaping at a basket of grapes in the grocery store.

I haven’t seen a squirrel in months. They look cuter than I remembered.

Californians have a fairly distinct accent and it’s only now that I’ve started to notice it.

I missed my pets a lot. My dog missed me, but I don’t think my cats noticed I was gone.

I missed American Netflix too. Hello Parks & Rec!

And most of all? Mexican food. I have missed Mexican food with all my heart, and I’m prepared to gorge myself this summer.

About 140 days of living in Ireland and the only things I can say with certainty in an Irish accent are “A pint of Murphy’s” and “You’re grand.” Ah well. I supposed studying abroad doesn’t change the fact that I’m American.

Since getting back from Norway, I haven’t done much with myself, and I feel as though this might be perceived as the wrong way to spend my last week in Ireland. Last semester at my home university, I had a meeting with the study abroad programmer for my school who gave us advice for our semester abroad, and I remember her telling us that we shouldn’t leave the country regretting the fact that we didn’t do everything we wanted to do.

I agree with this cautiously; however, I think it’s unrealistic to expect to see every possible destination and do every cultural thing imaginable. If there’s one thing I want to emphasize in this post, it’s that my study abroad experience did not meet expectations, and moreover, of course it didn’t meet expectations - mine or anyone else’s.

The process of preparing to study abroad began for me in September of 2013. From then until the weeks before I had to leave for Ireland, this preparation consisted of pre-meetings, nights fraught with stress over choosing a program, essay-writing reminiscent of college apps, more and more meetings, more and more paperwork on everything from finances to allergies, so many email exchanges full of important information I was sure I would somehow lose, even more meetings and paperwork, and finally - acceptance from UCC, booking flights, and then two weeks of winter break, my last chance for mental preparation before leaving the country for five months.

And this preparation didn’t even completely begin with the start of my sophomore year. I’ve wanted to study abroad since high school. I have always loved travelling and trying new things in new places, which somewhat contradicts my naturally shy and introverted nature. I’d travelled to Europe before, too, but with my family, not alone, and not for longer than two weeks.

Looking back, this buildup of study abroad anticipation that lasted years and built up in the year before my semester abroad had a detrimental affect on me during winter break. I spent my break in an anxious haze, too nervous to focus on packing checklists and worrying all night instead of sleeping. Christmas was a blur and visiting with friends forced me to put on an excited face and hide my dread. And I was excited - at least, I had been when this venture was still a stack of paperwork away. Now that I had nothing else to focus on other than the adventure at hand, all I could think about were my fears and insecurities.

This isn’t something I would ordinarily tell people who might ask about my time abroad, other than in a passing sentence: “Oh yeah, I was really nervous before studying abroad, but I had a great time!” “Really nervous” doesn’t exactly cover it. I was, to put it not so eloquently, a mess. 

I’m writing about this because these were my expectations - in fact, I had no real expectations. I had a vague expectation that everything would be horrible, and what “everything” and “horrible” were I wasn’t completely sure. I was entering an unknown situation, and I was having a difficult time accepting that. 

My mom told me something very important before I went abroad, when I was addled with worries and spiraling into anxiety: “It would be so easy to go to Puget Sound for the semester, and to see your friends and to go to class in a familiar environment. That would be easy for you. It wouldn’t be challenging at all.” She was right. I would not have learned so much about myself had I not gone to Ireland this semester. I have gained an immeasurable amount of independence. I have gained confidence when faced with unfamiliar environments, and I have been better about brushing off my mistakes instead of perserverating on them. I have learned about friendship and about being alone, and I have learned about what I can manage on my own and when I need to reach out for help. 

Most of all, I have learned not just what I am capable of, but that I am capable, period. And that wasn’t something I thought about myself in the weeks before I studied abroad.

In this way, I have surpassed my own expectations of my time abroad. I saw this semester in vague terms, either as an “opportunity” or an “experience,” or as a fearful plunge into the unknown. Either way, my time here has been so much better and so much more than what I expected.

However, I have also found that there can be a difference between my own expectations and those of others. What I might find to be an insurmountable obstacle, someone else might have accomplished ten times over. What I might see as a new skill, someone else might already be an expert in. What I might see as an uncomfortable situation someone else might see as an exciting one, and what I might see as comfortable someone else might see as boring. 

There were many times this semester when it looked as though everyone abroad was doing so much better than me, whether that was with their independence, confidence, academics, or travel experiences. Everyone else was studying abroad the “right” way by doing “more” than me (again with these unhelpful vague terms). On days I stayed in, others were going out. On days I was alone, others were with friends. On days I felt sad, everyone else was having the time of their lives.

Faced with these doubts, my previous accomplishments seemed bleak. Was I really all that confident when I still felt fear in unfamiliar situations? Was I really all that independent when I still reached out for help constantly? Was I really doing all that well? Should I have even studied abroad in the first place?

These doubts have accompanied me throughout my semester - not always present, but definitely always lingering. They arose from the idea that if I’m not having the same experience as everyone else, I’m doing something wrong. 

It took me a while to conquer this doubt. First of all, not everyone is having exactly the same fantastic experience. This is obvious to me now, but in the face of insecurity sometimes reality is warped and it seems like everyone is having fun and everyone is doing great and everyone is successful. Insecurity can be isolating, and can make you feel like the rest of the world is a big fun group that has excluded you. Remembering that people are individuals with insecurities just like everyone else is helpful in dissolving this idea. Also, it helps to get off Facebook.

Second of all, because everyone is an individual having a different experience from everyone else, this means that everyone is battling their own demons. Just because something is hard for me and easy for someone else doesn’t mean that the opposite doesn’t also apply - that something I do easily is difficult for someone else. Realizing that everyone has their own struggles has been helpful for me, because it has validated the fact that I have struggles, and that this is normal and okay, and if I am able to conquer them then that is a success, no matter what the struggles are.

Lastly, everyone is different, and we aren’t supposed to all have the same experiences. Again, this is obvious now, but it isn’t when I’m trapped by the doubt that I’m not having the “right” study abroad experience. There is no “right” study abroad experience. There is no “right” experience in general. My study abroad experience is valid because I experienced it, and whatever I have gotten out of it is valid as well.

So while advising that students should leave the country with no regrets is good advice to consider, I don’t believe that it is, along with any other advice, prescriptive, and I believe that thinking this way can foster insecurity. It creates a habit of viewing life in terms of losses instead of gains, have not’s instead of have’s, did not’s instead of did’s, and so on. It leads one to see life as absences instead of substances - I didn’t do what that person did instead of Wow, look what I did.

My tendency to look at what I have not done instead of what I have done has been present for much of my life, not just this semester, and it is unhealthy; when I do this, I’m doing a disservice to myself and to my experiences. I think one of the most important things I have learned this semester is that I need to give myself more credit.

But I could go on and on about what I’ve learned. I’ve been spending this last week reflecting, more than anything, and I realize that I am glad that this experience didn’t meet my expectations or meet anyone else’s expectations. If I had gone into this semester knowing exactly what to expect, I wouldn’t have learned anything at all.

~

So far, I’ve traveled around Ireland and every country in the UK except Wales, and while it’s been quite a bit of exploring, I’ve had the luxury of being in English-speaking countries. Despite the fact that most signs in Ireland come with an Irish translation, I’m never going to have an experience where someone speaks to me in that language unless I go over to the Aran Islands. You could say I’ve been spoiled. At any right, I wasn’t really prepared for the extent to which the Norwegians speak... Norwegian.

Pretty obvious, I know, but I think my constant assurance that everyone speaks English in Norway (which they do) made me forget that Norwegian is, you know, Norway’s first language. Signs are in Norwegian, most without English translations; people speak Norwegian before they speak English; and I was often caught in conversations where I had no idea what anyone was saying. It was an uncomfortable situation at times, but it was also part of the traveling experience, and I’m glad I got out of my English comfort zone.

I spent my trip staying with my cousin Cody and her family, so luckily I didn’t have to navigate this unfamiliar linguistic terrain on my own. 

I also learned a few phrases:

Hi-hi! - “Hi!” This one is obvious. It’s a bit like "aloha” in that it also means “Bye!”, which can be confusing.

Tok - “Thank you.” Although I was hesitant to use this one, since I often heard people say other terms to accompany it.

*Sharp intake of breath* - “Yes.” To English-speakers it sounds like a gasp of surprise. This one really threw me for a loop, but hey, it’s part of the cultural experience.

“Hun er forelska i laerer’n, og ikke i meg.” - “She’s in love with the teacher, and not with me.” This is purely because I learned the chorus to the fantastic Norwegian 80′s hit by The Kids called “Hun Er Forelska I Laerer’n,” which is a favorite of Cody’s 5 year old son, Conrad, and was often listened to on repeat.

Something else about Norway: going in May is nice because you get some warm sunny days, but going in May is also a trip because THE SUN DOESN’T SET UNTIL TEN O’CLOCK AT NIGHT. At 7:30 (PM) this is how it looked outside:

That’s not normal, I tell you. That’s not normal. I can’t even imagine what it’s like in the winter. This also means means that this time of year, the sun rises at 4:30am, so blackout blinds are a necessity if you don’t want the sun to wake you up at an ungodly hour.

I spent a while in Oslo, so I won’t go over everything I did and just focus on the highlights.

First of all, a quick advertisement break: Are you heading to Oslo soon? Do you love pie? If you look around Oslo, you might at first be at a loss for satisfying your craving for pie. But worry not! I have the solution:

Hello Good Pie is Oslo’s only pie shop, and serves the best pie I have ever tasted. (Next to my mom’s Fourth of July blueberry sour cream pie. Hi Mom!) Want a pie that tastes like a gigantic Reese’s Pieces? They’ve got it! Want a classic cherry pie that explodes with flavor? They’ve got that too! Looking more for a savory pie, maybe for breakfast or lunch? They have a whole selection!

In all seriousness, my cousin Cody’s pie shop has fantastic pies, and coming from someone who doesn’t even really like pie, that’s saying something. They use all organic ingredients and make the pies in the shop, even right in front of you! So if you’re in Oslo and you’re hungry for pie, or even if you’re just hungry for good food, head on over to two locations in Oslo with names that I can’t spell or pronounce. You might want to look it up on Google Maps. I also might not want to go into advertising.

What did I do other than stuff my face with delicious pies, you ask? I also spent a day looking around some museums in Oslo, specifically Nasjonalmuseet Arkitektur (The National Museum of Architecture) and Museet For Samtidskunst (The Museum for Contemporary Art). First I went to Nasjonalmuseet Arkitektur:

The museum was both an introduction to the art of architecture itself as well as an exhibition of the types of architecture in Norway. There was an interactive aspect to the museum, so I interacted.

The sketch I made is the weird blue blob in the corner with a yellow circle in the middle. I’m aware I’m not exactly an artist, but I was actually inspired by this part of the museum...

...and how there is a patch of light amid darkness, suggesting a light source even if one can’t be seen. It’s symbolic or... something. I don’t know, I just thought it was cool.

There was also a drawing board you could toy around with:

The museum was relatively small, and remarkably, there was barely anyone there. I was actually the only person in Museet For Samtidskunst...

...which was, just as an aside, in a pretty courtyard area:

I’ve never been a huge fan of contemporary art, but I thought this museum was pretty cool. There was an architectural element to it (architecture is big in Oslo), especially in an exhibit by Carlos Garaicoa, The Politics and Poetry of Space.

For instance, this piece was meant to depict an apartment building entirely made of glass, and how putting the private in the public sphere affect human interaction. The dark building in the middle is meant to be the glass building.

There were also artsy carpets that we could only walk on without shoes, although I opted out of taking off my shoes and decided to admire the carpets from afar:

What struck me most was this piece by Carlos Garaicoa, No Way Out:

It looked really bright and encouraging, but the title suggests otherwise. I still don’t know what to make of it, but visually it’s very appealing.

And then, more interactivity!

One section of this room included Legos, which made me really excited because since I was a small child I have always loved Legos. I ended up making something tiny and confusing, but it was fun!

After the museums, I walked aimlessly around Oslo for a bit, and during my venture I found this place, and I thought how funny it was to still see Ireland even when I was so far away:

I also found this cool fountain:

And I finally came across another important landmark of Oslo, Akershus Fortress.

I didn’t learn much about the fortress itself, but it was fun to hike around for a bit, even though it was raining. I also followed along the Akershus Fortress Sculpture Trail and saw some interesting art:

The next day, I decided to go out on a boat tour around the islands and explore Hovedøya. The day started out sunny, making the boat ride very enjoyable.

(It took me forever to get this picture of the flag in the wind.)

The houses made me think there might be somewhere to eat on Hovedøya, but I think they were actually summer homes or fishing homes of some sort. Most the island was very beautiful and good for hiking, and also had an old English monastery.

Among the fauna that I saw on the island were tons of birds, a fox, and someone’s goats (I think they were goats), one of which I gave a dandelion to eat. We’re friends now.

I also got lost on the island for about an hour and broke the strap of my favorite purse... but at least I have pretty pictures to show for it!

Another day, I went with Cody and Conrad to Norsk Folkemuseum (the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History), The Viking Ship Museum, and briefly to The Fram Museum. First we went to Norsk Folkemuseum, which was probably my favorite and was essential a history of changing Norwegian architecture and home life throughout the centuries.

The Viking Ship Museum was cool, although we know so little about these unearthed ships that the museum itself is lacking in information. This museum was also much more crowded than the previous one.

I didn’t get to stay long enough at the Fram Museum to learn much about the Norwegian expedition to the South Pole (on a ship called Fram, of course), but it was cool to walk around the boat; the entire museum was built around it.

Another day, I went with Jørgen, Cody’s husband, and Conrad to Frogner Park. 

This is probably the most famous part of Oslo, mainly because of the statues created by Gustav Vigeland.

Finally, on my last day, we celebrated Norwegian Constitution Day, also known simply as the 17th of May (or syttende mai). In Oslo, there’s a big parade that mainly children march in, along with many school bands. The royal family (yes, Norway has a royal family) waves from the balcony of their castle, and lots of people wear bunad, a traditional Norwegian outfit. It was a lot of fun, but by the afternoon I was exhausted by the parade and I ended up taking a nap. The cultural experience was a good way for me to end my time in Oslo.

Overall, I had a great time, and I would love to go back to Oslo and visit my family again. Would I go in the winter? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

The second half of my break was much more relaxed than the first half, which was spent pretty much rushing around all of Ireland.  After being nearly blown over by the wind at the Cork airport (so much for the nice weather), we got to the Glasgow airport and into a car which was, on one hand, much smaller than the TARDIS, but on the other hand, a stick shift; it took my dad all day to figure out how to put it in reverse.

After restaurant after restaurant in Ireland, eating everything from fish and chips to beetroot risotto, our first meal in Scotland was... McDonald’s.  In our defense, we were starving and the fish fillet was actually pretty good.

We made the drive over to Dildawn where my cousin (technically my grandparent’s cousin’s... something... I’m not actually sure, but it’s easier to say cousin) Bill was letting us stay.  His house is really cool and there’s paintings all over the place, since one of our ancestors was a somewhat famous Scottish painter.

(Fun fact: this is the woman who married that Scottish painter, aka my great great grandmother.)

Most of our time in with Bill was spent exploring the nearby towns of Kirkcudbright and Castle Douglas, and doing a bit of castle exploring at the Kenmure Castle, which was at one point owned (I think - I’m not so good with historical accuracy on this blog) by my mom’s side of the family.  Bill wouldn’t let me explore too much of it because it “wasn’t safe” and “stuff could fall down” (party pooper), but I got to look around a little bit.

After the castle, we checked out a rock.  But not just any rock, mind you: a rock that Robert the Bruce learned against back in 1307 while he was fleeing from the English.  That’s really as impressive as I can make it sound.  Here’s the rock:

Here it be, Robert the Bruce’s lounge chair.  Just to prove that it does, in fact, have historical significance, you can learn more about it if you’d like from this sign:

The best part of staying with Bill was not the lovely paintings or famous boulders, but what I have probably missed the most while away from home: dogs.

The last time I’d seen Bill’s dogs was seven years ago, and so I was very happy to see Charlie (red collar) and Max (blue collar) again.  At home, I have a dog named Pepper, and I miss her all the time, so it was very comforting to be with these two loveable creatures.

Speaking of loveable creatures, Bill talked to a sheep farmer who was kind enough to let us go see his sheep!  That included, you guessed it, lambs.  And yes, they were adorable.

We eventually had to leave when the mama sheep started bleating at us, but it was incredibly fun.

After a few days in Dildawn, we headed over to Edinburgh, which is one of my new favorite cities.  Our first stop was the National Gallery of Scotland, which had all kinds of beautiful paintings.

I took a ton of pictures, so I’ll just put my favorites here.

This is Souvenir of Loch Carron by Gustave Paul Dore, who I know of from his depictions of John Milton’s Paradise Lost.  They’re very beautiful, and you can look at them here: http://www.danshort.com/pl/.

This is Achilles Mourning the Death of Patroclus by Gavin Hamilton.  I recently read The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, so I’m a little obsessed with all things having to do with Achilles and Patroclus.

There was a lot of van Gogh in the museum, but I think this one, Les Olivers, was my favorite.

There was also a lot of Monet, but I loved Seascape, Shipping by Moonlight the best.

Remember the painting of my great great grandmother?  She was from Capri, where this painting (Arco Naturale, Capri by Thomas Fearnley) is set!

All right, that’s enough about art.  Let’s return to a recurring theme in this blog: castles!  More specifically, Edinburgh Castle.

Old and humungous, the attractions around the castle made it feel like Disneyland - except it’s real.

For instance, we got to see the prisons, the crown jewels, the great hall, and St. Margaret’s Chapel.  Most parts of the castle didn’t allow you to take pics, so enjoy some scattered and disorganized pictures of the castle.

(Yes, that is a cemetery for soldiers’ dogs.  Yes, I’m as sad as you are.)

Not to mention the view from the castle was quite spectacular.

I’d love to talk more about my time in Edinburgh, but all the pictures would make this post way too long.  So let me end this post with a story.

Friday morning, my family woke up early and made ourselves a bit late trying to figure out where to get our breakfast.  After a somewhat convoluted drive to the Edinburgh airport, we dropped off the car, speed-walked to the terminal, and realized when we got there that Aer Lingus expects you to check in forty minutes before your flight - and they had just closed the check-in station.

Some ladies working there were nice enough to let us check our luggage... which took about ten minutes, because the computers weren’t working.  After we tossed the luggage about in a flurry, my dad told me that we had to book it, and book it I did.  I took off my shoes even before I got to the line for security, and once through I grabbed whatever I could find that belonged to my family and kept running.  And, just as luck would have it, our gate was practically the last one.

To say that I sprinted through the entire Edinburgh airport is a bit of an overstatement; I had to stop at the moving walkway because I’m incredibly out of shape.  At any rate, my dad was convinced we weren’t going to make it.  Heck, I’m the optimist of the family, and I was convinced we weren’t going to make it.

Finally I arrived at the gate, carrying luggage like a pack mule and drenched in sweat (you’re welcome for that mental image) and the last few people before us were getting on the plane.  We’d made it.  We must’ve looked like a sight to those flight attendents, a bunch of frantic, ragged Americans with a mess of passports and boarding passes.

By some miracle, we got on the plane back to Dublin.  After the plane ride and four hours on a bus from the Dublin airport to Cork, I was grateful to sit in my apartment and relax, despite the fact that my vacation was over.

It’s been a while, blog!  Academically, this month has been busy, especially the week before the break, but now that all of my assignments are all fairly spread out (unlike earlier this month, when I had two papers and a midterm all on the same day--eek), I have time to make another post!  And don’t worry--I promise this is a happy one.  Also, I’m pretty sure I saw the entirety of Ireland in one week, so be prepared for loads of pics.

My parents, brother, and grandfather (and later my uncle and cousin) came to visit me/used me as an excuse to go on vacation in Ireland.  I took a bus to meet them in Galway, where our first destination was the Ashford Castle.  

Our reason for visiting the castle is because my dad, my uncle, and my grandparents visited this same castle back in 1970 and took a picture outside of a fountain, and they wanted to recreate the picture forty five years later.

First we took a boat ride on the lake around the castle.  The week we spent in Ireland was literally the nicest weather I think Ireland will see all year.  I remember the man at customs, when we were going from Scotland back to Ireland the next week, said, “That was the summer.  That was it.”  He wasn’t kidding.  Here’s what it looked like on the boat ride:

I was way overdressed in my coat and sweater.  The water was completely still and I was burning up in the sun.  It was the weirdest thing.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually felt hot.  And this is the same year that Cork had its first snowfall in ten years.  I’m not saying global warming, but...

After lunch, we explored the castle and did some picture recreation.  Of course, I had to capture the castle in the present day on such a nice day:

The gist of the castle’s history is that it was founded and has been owned by English families since the conquest of the Irish in that area since 1228.  It’s also a fancy-schmacy hotel, although we didn’t get to stay there during our time in Galway.

The next day consisted of a lot of driving, which was, in a word, stressful.  My dad had to drive a vehicle I affectionately named the TARDIS (thanks to mom for the pic):

This picture doesn’t quite capture the truck car in all its glory, but trust me, it was big, especially on tiny, unpaved, Irish country roads that made riding in the backseat feel like a roller coaster (sorry for that, mom).  So driving was a feat for my father, and we did about five hours of it on this particular day.

On the way, we saw some caves, similar to the caves from my Ring of Kerry trip back in January/February.  I didn’t get any pictures of the caves themselves, but I did get some of the lovely Galway countryside:

We made a few stops along the way, and we even got on a ferry--although I didn’t really appreciate the ride, since I had to register for classes while in the car.

The long ride was meant to get us from Galway to Dingle, which it did... eventually.  But it was worth it, because Dingle is absolutely beautiful:

We spent the next day shopping and going over to the beach.  There were a surprising amount of Americans in town--lucky they got there during Ireland’s nicest week of the year.  I even needed to buy sunglasses in Dingle, it was so sunny.  We also saw the Gallaras Oratory, which is a stone building built from ancient Irish civilization.  Its purpose is unknown, but it is famous for its architecture.

The next day took us from Dingle to a small town called Kenmare.  We were making our way to Muckross House and Gardens when we decided to stop at Inch Beach along the way.

I know I keep saying this, but it was so warm.  My cousin Ryan actually changed into his swim trunks and decided to get in the ocean.  I was even debating getting ice cream.  It was very weird.

We then went to Muckross, which I’d visited very briefly on my Ring of Kerry trip.  This time it was a lot warmer, and there were lots of families roaming around and children enjoying the sun.

We also saw the Muckross Friary, which was very pretty (and its cemetery contained many late O’Sullivans):

After our first night in Kenmare (we were told by the hotel staff that we’d increased the population of the town by half, and I’m pretty sure there weren’t many staying in the hotel besides us), we went to see another ghost of O’Sullivan past, Dunboy Castle.  At this time we were exploring the Beara Peninsula, home to the O’Sullivan clan.  In 1602, the leader of the clan, Donal Cam O’Sullivan Beare, was defeated by Englishman Sir George Carew.  Not much of the castle remains:

Despite the poor state of the former castle, it sits on a beautiful piece of land.  Although the sun and warm weather was starting to fade at this point in the week, I think that a cloudy day can be as beautiful as a sunny one in Ireland.

It was kind of fascinating to imagine my ancestors walking around the same land over four hundred years ago.  I felt like a descendent of something powerful.

Our next challenge was trying to find Dunkerron Castle.  We discovered that it sat on private property, but a woman was nice enough to let us go look at it quickly.  Although mostly in ruins, it was an impressive site.  Apparently it was another piece of O’Sullivan history, although how exactly I can’t say.

Finally, we spent a day and a night in a familiar place: Cork.  I took my family to see the English Market and we visited my school.  While it was nice to be back in Cork, it brought the unpleasant reminder that I was halfway through my vacation and exams and papers were drawing nearer.  I was excited to get to Scotland the next day (and my dad, admittedly, was excited to leave the TARDIS behind).

After spending so much time to myself, not seeing much of Cork other than what I saw on my walk to and from class and my occasional jaunts to the city center, having such a broad tour of Ireland made me fall in love with the country all over again.  I forgot how beautiful the countryside is and how wonderful and kind the people are.  It was refreshing to see the side of Ireland that I think I’ve been missing by being in Cork for so long.  I’m actually looking forward to my bus ride to the Dublin airport in three weeks just so I can see the grassy hills again.  While it would have been fun to get to the continent for the break, I’m really glad I had the chance to reconnect with this country, and I’m glad I picked here to study abroad.

St. Patrick’s Day is a great time to be in Ireland, surely. It’s a national holiday, a perfect day for university students and families alike to get away from work and school and have fun. It’s rooted in Irish tradition, and even though St. Patrick isn’t the most important of the Irish saints--indeed, he wasn’t even Irish, he was Welsh--the holiday is still a big deal throughout Ireland. Cork had its own weekend of festivities, and the big day was celebrated with a parade. So surely, if you’re going to study abroad or visit Ireland, you should be sure to do it during St. Patrick’s Day, right?

I’d be more sure about that statement if I hadn’t probably just had the worst St. Patrick’s Day ever.

Now, I’m exaggerating a little bit. I had fun at the beginning of the day, getting ready and walking to the city center, passing by lots of people bedecked in green and orange and draped in Irish flags. The parade was fantastic, and I had a pretty good view of it (thanks to being a relatively tall person in a country of relatively short people). There was everything from children in local dance groups dancing down the street, to veterans marching with flags held high, to various international groups, to even some kind of a circus group. 

Love the kid dressed as a leprechaun!

Some awesome roller derby girls.

Umm... ‘Murica?

These people were from the Irish Redhead Convention! A girl behind me said, “We’ve got one right here! Take her with you!”

I appreciate this guy’s dedication to shamrocks.

That poor teddy bear.

The parade was fun, and by the end of it my back and legs were killing me from standing for so long, and I decided to walk around and look at the booths along the Grand Parade before heading home.

Because my other friends had plans of their own, I was spending St. Patrick’s Day by myself. I had planned on it, and I usually like being alone, but it was a little bit of a bummer to see friends and family milling about while I was just with myself. The parade had also served to make me a little homesick, since my hometown holds a fairly popular Fourth of July parade every year that I used to go to when I was younger.

Nonetheless, I was happy with a falafel and a cup of hot chocolate for lunch, and I was eager to go back to my apartment for some much needed rest. Although I know St. Patrick’s Day is a big party day for university students, that’s never been something I was all that interested in. I was glad to spend the rest of my day off inside with my laptop and my bed...

That is, until I realized that my key card wasn’t letting me into the building.

I was somewhat prepared for this. I haven’t had my original key card for about three weeks, and the last time I went to reception to continue using my temporary card had been a week ago. Today, it had expired, I was sure, but unfortunately, no one was in reception at the time during this public holiday to get my temporary card working again or to give me a new card. I decided to call the number posted on the reception door for someone to come let me into the building and into my apartment. After about ten minutes, a car pulled up and a slightly flustered man (he’d be running around all day, he told me) let me inside.

A key piece of information: the door to my room--not my apartment, but my personal bedroom--has never locked from the outside without me pulling on the handle at full force. I think it’s slightly broken, but I’ve never bothered reception about it since it’s kind of nice not to have to bring my key card with me every time I go into the kitchen to get a snack. Which is, by the way, what I decided to do when I got back to my apartment.

When I tried to reenter my room, the door, for the first time ever, had locked on its own, and with my useless key card, I couldn’t get in.

I knew then that this probably wasn’t going to be my best day in Ireland.

I had to wait until 6pm for the warden to return so that I could get yet another temporary card. Until then, I decided to turn on the television in my kitchen for the first time since I’ve gotten here and ended up watching a game show called The Chaser. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend it if you’re in a situation where you have to wait an hour to get back into your room because you’re locked out. It really helps the time go by.

At 6pm, I had to leave the building in a t-shirt and socks with no shoes to get to reception. It was a nice day, sure, but not that nice. Shivering, I sheepishly waited for another temporary card and finally returned to the comfort of my warm room, where I write from now, eager for this not-so-great day to end.

Moral of the story? You can go to the North Pole for Christmas, a bunny farm for Easter (do those even exist?), or Washington D.C. for the Fourth of July, and you still might not get the very best holiday experience ever. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from studying abroad, it’s that the experiences that become important to you, the ones you remember, aren’t always the expected ones and aren’t always the ones you plan. Happy and fun times are random, and less happy times can happen even on St. Patrick’s Day in the Emerald Isle. I’m okay with saying that St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland wasn’t the best day of my Ireland trip because I’ve already had so many great days on my Ireland trip, moments that were completely unplanned and so much fun.

Long story short: Don’t be jealous of me for being in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day. Also, try not to lose your keys.

This weekend, IFSA-Butler took all of us students studying with the Irish IFSA programs to Northern Ireland!

We left at around 9am on Thursday, stopped in Dublin for lunch, and got to Belfast by the late afternoon. We had the chance to walk around the city before dinner, and near our hotel was Belfast's City Hall.

I wish I could've gotten pictures of it at night when it was all lit up! Oh well. It's beautiful in the daytime, too. 

Belfast is a pretty cool city, and like with many other parts of Ireland, I'm fascinated by the combination of the past and the present that's so prevalent in the architecture. 

Also, the word of the day is academical:

That night we had pizza for dinner! One of my favorite things about these IFSA trips is the provided food. Ah, that college student stereotype: you tell us there's free food, we come running.

I experienced a lot of differences in Belfast than I did from Cork, more than you would expect from a country that's still on the same island as Ireland. The accent is wildly different, for instance, something I noticed as soon as I talked to a woman at the hotel reception. The roads are much cleaner, of course the currency is different (did you know that Charles Darwin is on the ten pound bill?), and it was much colder. In general, the country feels like a mixture of Irish and British.

The people, however, are just as friendly and talkative, much like our tour guide for our trip through the Antrim Coast on Friday.

The Antrim coast is very similar to the Ring of Kerry, except that it's much greener--the west coast of Ireland was badly affected by the Famine, making the land poor--and the weather was significantly better than it was during the Ring of Kerry weekend. It was still windy and cold, but these winds didn't make me feel as though I was going to be blown off the cliffs.

One of our stops was to Carrick-a-Rede and Larrybane.

We had to do quite a bit of hill-walking, and I was continuously reminded how out of shape I am despite walking to and from class almost every day. Luckily, there was lovely scenery to look at to pass the time.

These are the hills in question that were walked upon:

I know, what a tragedy to be getting a little exercise in such a beautiful country.

However, walking was a cakewalk (see what I did there?) compared to the dreaded rope bridge.

I don't have pictures of it, but take my word for it--coming from someone who gets very displeased being high off the ground on an unstable surface, it was terrifying. I don't even know if the view was worth it.

Okay, I guess it was.

I was also thoroughly entertained by some squabbling seagulls in the cliff's crevices (there's some alliteration for you):

Come on, bud, how are you so mad living in a place like this?

After that, we went to Dunluce Castle.

Roaming the castle was a lot of fun, and because it was one of the least destroyed castles I've come across while here, it was easier to imagine people from hundreds of years ago living in the castle while it was in its prime.

My friend Kinzie said that she wants to live in this castle (and began making semi-serious plans to buy the castle and completely fix it up many years down the line), and I thought that if I lived in a castle that was destroyed, how nice it would be if I got to see that castle and my family remembered so far into the future. Visiting castles in Ireland may be touristy, but I think it's better than leaving them, and their former inhabitants, completely forgotten.

Besides, the castle is pretty prime real estate. The views from it are lovely:

Our last stop was the famed Giant's Causeway.

All the rocks pictured below were, according to legend, built by giants to cross, explaining their peculiar shape that makes them easy to step on, almost like stairs.

While the climb up was fun--I've always loved bouldering--being at the top of some precarious giant steps made me a little nervous, so I decided to stay closer to the ground as I explored the rest of the causeway. But even with a fear of heights, I still had fun looking around and avoiding getting swept up by the rising tide.

On Saturday, we were up at 9am to do a Black Taxi Tour of Ireland, which gave us the history of the Troubles, the conflict between the unionists (mostly Protestant) and the nationalists (mostly Catholic) that occurred 1968-1998. While people in the city center of Belfast are largely neutral concerning the conflict, the areas we visited still show evidence of division.

We began on Shankill Road, which is where many Protestants live, and the tour guides showed us the murals.

We then visited the peace walls, a series of walls built to separate the unionist and nationalist neighborhoods. The tour guides were saying how a number of famous people have written their names on the walls, including the Dalai Lama, Rihanna, and Bill Clinton (and Justin Bieber, to the tour guides' chagrin).

There wasn't a lot of space, but we all got to sign our names. I managed to find a small spot:

(My favorite signature was way up high and said, "Tall guys get the best views.")

We moved on to Falls Road, which has a largely Catholic population, and visited the Clonard Martyrs Memorial Garden.

We saw more murals as well:

What I was surprised about the most was how little I knew about all of this, especially considering how recently some of the events of the Troubles occurred. The tour guides, as amicable and light-hearted as they were, lived during this time and saw some of the worse parts of the Troubles. I wish I'd learned more about this in school (I learned pretty much nothing about Irish history), and all I can do is hope for a happy and peaceful future for Northern Ireland.

After that, Sara, Kinzie, and I went to see the Ulster Museum (partially because it's free). The museum is like a natural history museum, and had exhibits on everything from Irish history (everywhere from ancient Irish civilizations to the Troubles), ancient Egypt, the history of fashion, and scientific exhibits. It was very informative and a lot of fun!

(I was really excited about the mummy.)

And finally, glow in the dark rocks! Which glow because of... science... reasons. Don't ask me, I'm an English major.

They're pretty though!

I really enjoyed my Northern Ireland trip, but I was very happy to return to Euros once I got home. I also realized that I'm starting to see my apartment in Cork, and Cork in general, as home. As much as I miss the US, it's going to be difficult to leave Cork when the time comes.

As you can probably guess, yesterday I went to St. Fin Barre's Cathedral!

For those interested in history, here's what the sign says (if you can't read it):

This cathedral was designed by William Burges and built between 1865 and 1879. It stands on an ancient site. According to legend, a monastery was founded here in the 7th century by St. Fin Barre. A settlement developed around the monastery and successive churches served the growing city of Cork. There has been continuous Christian worship on this site for over a thousand years.

This is a pretty magnificent cathedral, as you can see:

It must have been a free day since no one was asking me to pay (usually it's 3 Euro for a tour) so I got to wander around inside the cathedral, empty except for Sara, myself, and one other person.

This is apparently the largest organ in Ireland:

Man, I would love to play that organ.

The lighting in this last picture isn't the best, but I couldn't help myself. It looks so intimidating. Anyone else thinking Notre Dame, maybe with a hunchback?

St. Fin Barre's Cathedral is probably Cork's most famous attraction so I'm surprised that it's taken me a month to visit.

Now I'm off to read poetry by Austin Clark for my Anglo-Irish Lit class, but I'll leave you with some Scottish and Irish music I found--maybe to listen to while you read my blog! (wink wink, nudge nudge)

Another early start and another early morning scenic view:

Then we went to the Derrynane House:

The Derrynane House was home to Irish politician Daniel O'Connell, who played a large role in fighting for Irish independence from Britain. Here's his portrait in the house:

(Resist the urge to play the piano, Leah. Resist the urge...)

He apparently also owned a pretty cool sword.

Here's a pretty chapel:

Next we went to Abbey Island.

Although cold, the weather was the nicest it had been all weekend. No wind, no rain, no hail, just sunshine. All things considered, it was a decent day to go to the beach.

After Abbey Island, we had a long drive over to Killarney National Park, during which time we watched a DVD showing a concert by the Irish band The High Kings. I also attempted to take some photos while on the bus, unable to resist capturing the beauty of the mountains, as you can probably tell by the quality:

We had some sandwiches for lunch at the park, which is when I finally got to take some decent pictures:

We also saw the Torc Waterfall:

I didn't get to see too much of the Muckross House and Gardens--we were only there for about half an hour--but it was a lovely area.

On Saturday, we got an early start and began our tour around the Skellig Ring. I'm somewhat sure that our first stop was Valentia Island, but with a view like this, who cares about the details:

While the view was spectacular, let me recommend that if you decide to visit the Skellig Ring or the Ring of Kerry (which you should definitely do), maybe don't go at the end of January. Take this with a grain of salt, since I am from sunny California, but the winds I experienced on this trip were the strongest I have been in in my entire life. We were advised not to go too close to the edge of the cliffs because of the danger of getting blown off. Let me tell you, my hair was a bird's nest for the entire weekend. However, we were lucky: there wasn't any fog all weekend, so the phenomenal views were left unencumbered. 

Next we went to Geoghan Mt. and Fogher Cliffs, where a farmer spoke to us about his cows and we even got to meet a few calves! 

(The little calf was so excited by all the people that it kept moving around, hence the blurry picture.)

It was still incredibly windy, but the fear of dropping her phone (or of being cast away into the Atlantic ocean) didn't stop this blogger from capturing the view:

As you can probably see, the countryside does't exactly emulate the greenery that we so often associate with Ireland. This is due to the fact that the west coast of Ireland was the most heavily impacted by the Potato famine in the 1800s, leaving the land pretty infertile to this day. No less beautiful, though.

At this point, I don't completely remember where we were or where we were going, so just enjoy some scenery:

Ah, I remember now: next, we visited some old forts and had another farmer speak to us, this one being a sheep farmer. The highlight: meeting two one-week old lambs. I didn't hold one, but I got to admire their adorableness before going off to see the forts.

Here's some fluffy sheep:

This time, there was hail intermixed with the wind as we walked through the muddy sheep pastures. Against, January probably wasn't the best time of year to visit.

The first fort was the Leacanabuile Stone Fort.

The view from the top of the fort was pretty nice:

After that, the Cahergall Stone Fort:

Then we visited a castle, but unfortunately, at this point, my phone unexpectedly died, so I couldn't take any pictures.

We had free time for a few hours back at the hotel, which many people spent exploring the small town of Cahersiveen where our hotel was located. I've felt a little out of place even after a month of living in Cork--for instance, I just discovered a few days ago that people generally wave at buses to get them to stop instead of just expecting them to stop if you're sitting at the bus stop. But in Cahersiveen, a small Irish town where everyone knows each other, we Americans stuck out like sore thumbs. A lot of people got off of the bus in town instead of back at the hotel, and they all entered the nearby bakery, causing the shopkeeper to crack up at the sight.

Sara and I visited a local church, the Daniel O'Connell Memorial Church, which needed special permission to be named that since it isn't named after a saint. We also stopped by a French cafe that was almost fresh out of hot chocolate, since apparently according to the (very apologetic) owner, a bunch of Americans came in earlier and practically cleaned her out. Instead, I had a pastry with chocolate and cream that was absolutely delicious, so I wasn't complaining.

After another awesome dinner (fish and chips and a chocolate brownie) we got to meet a local singer and sing along to some Irish tunes. It was a ton of fun, and I'll probably have "The Wild Rover" stuck in my head for the rest of my time in Ireland.

This was followed by some trivia! Instead of playing to win some chocolates, Sara and I volunteered to keep score for every group. While we didn't win chocolate, we did get free drinks and some slate coasters for being scorekeepers, which was a pleasant surprise!

Last weekend was pretty busy, so I'm going to be uploading it in 3 parts. My Friday started at 8am with a long walk with my friend Sara to the Garda. We were pretty out of the way, to the point where a nice man asked us if we were lost and pointed us in the right direction. One thing I've learned about studying abroad in Ireland: if you look dazed and confused, some kindhearted Irish person will help out.

All that just to get there and realize that I had forgotten an important document! Sigh. At least now I know where it is, so I'll get an early start tomorrow morning and head over.

Now, onto the fun part: after a quick meeting with IFSA-Butler, along with some last minute dashing around my room to pack up my things, Sara and I got on the bus and were on our way to the Ring of Kerry. The trip was led by Marian, who teaches Irish language at UCC and did a great job keeping us informed and entertained throughout the trip. Our first stop: the Crag Caves!

I think caves are super cool, since everything in them is extremely old. The first pictures, for instance, shows a stalactite that has been growing for about 10,000 years! In geologic time, though, 10,000 years is nothing, and it fascinates me how the perspective of time is completely different from a geology perspective than it is from a human perspective. Also, there are apparently bats flying around the caves, although we didn't see any. Personally, I love bats, but a lot of people in my group didn't exactly share my feelings, so it was probably for the best that we didn't see any.

I'm a bit later than I'd like on updating, but I wanted to talk about (and by talk about, I mean post pictures with minimal commentary) the trip to the Jameson Distillery that IFSA-Butler took us on!

Yes, that is a whiskey bottle chandelier.

Oh, and it was snowing outside. No big deal. Although luckily it got a little sunnier, as you can see below.

I wanted to get some pictures of the Paddy whiskey for my father. :)

To be honest, I didn't retain too much information about the process of making whiskey, but here's what I do remember: In order for whiskey to be legally acknowledged as whiskey in Ireland, it has to be aged for at least 3 years, although Jameson typically ages their whiskey for 5 to 7 years. Also, Jameson whiskey undergoes triple distillation, whereas Scottish whiskey only double and American whiskey only single.

We also got to taste test some whiskeys: Irish (Jameson, obviously), Scottish, and American. Confession: for me, whiskey is... not my cup of tea (or shot of whiskey, rather). I actually think it's pretty gross, so when the tour guide for the distillery asked us which whiskey we liked best, I only said Jameson because, for me, it was the least disgusting of the three. Not for everyone, I guess, but I still enjoyed the experience. And I even got a certificate saying that I have "achieved the envied status of official Jameson Irish Whiskey taster"!

After the distillery tour, IFSA-Butler took us out to dinner at the Strasbourg Goose, which was phenomenal and made me feel ready to have a food baby by the end of it. Not only did we have a three course meal (for me, I had the goat cheese, salmon, and the best apple crumble I have ever tasted), but we also got chips (aka fries) and scallop potatoes to share. Along with the mashed potatoes I got with my salmon, this resulted in having 3 different kinds of potatoes for dinner. Let me tell you: it is not so much a stereotype to say that the Irish love their potatoes. I was close to bursting after the last bite of apple crumble, and after dinner I got back to my apartment and got some rest to prepare for the weekend.

On Saturday, I went on a day tour with my friend Sara to Blarney and Cobh!

I'll admit, I felt pretty touristy going to Blarney, but the gardens and the land around Blarney Castle are like something out of a fairytale--or, as my Aspects of Irish Folklore lecturer would say, an international wondertale.

And there's the castle! Looking rather ominous in this light... looking back, this seems like foreshadowing. But I'll get to that in a second.

Though it might not look like much more than a ruined rock, there are a fair amount of stairs inside the castle. Lots of stairs, in fact, that are very thin, winding, and generally difficult to walk on, so much so that there's a rope attached to the side for you to cling to as you climb the ruined staircase in fear. My recommendation to whoever visits: be ready for a tricky climb. And wear good walking shoes.

But is the view worth it?

I'd say so.

Nonetheless, my fear of heights got the best of me and I didn't kiss the famous Blarney Stone. I know, I've probably disappointed all my Irish ancestors, but I'm pretty sure my family can attest to the fact that I don't need any more gift of the gab than I already have.

A few more pics of the castle:

But there's more to grounds than an old castle! I also visited the gardens.

The Poison Garden was delightfully morbid, but the Fern Garden, was, well...

Apparently, it's not warm enough for the ferns to thrive yet, so what was meant to look picturesque instead looked a little like a twisted Dr. Seuss land--which is, you know, picturesque in its own way.

Also in the area was the Blarney House. In the winter months, an English family actually lives there, so it's only open to explore in the summer. The outside was pretty beautiful, though.

More fairytale international wondertale beauty:

And then, to Cobh! Part of Cobh's fame is that it was the last stop for the Titantic before it went on its fateful journey.

It also offers some lovely views of the sea:

I also visited St. Colman's Cathedral:

That time when Sara and I got lost trying to get to the cathedral but ended up finding a good spot for taking pictures (that was almost on someone's private property, whoops).

We did finally get to it though:

Unfortunately, exploring the cathedral was slightly hindered due to the fact that there were several baptisms going on at the moment, but I managed to look around a little and snag some pictures.

In general, Cobh is a really charming town that I would've loved to explore more had I had more time.

Not much to report on for this week, but I had a great weekend when my dad came up to visit me! Probably the most blog-worthy part of the weekend was our visit to Kinsale in the south of Ireland on the eastern coast. It's a really beautiful, charming town, and--well, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves:

While there, we checked out Charles Fort:

In Irish history, Kinsale is probably best known for the Battle of Kinsale in 1601, which led to Ireland's loss in the ongoing fight against English conquest. If you're into history and want to know more, do some googling or check out these websites.

Since it was pretty windy that day, there were a lot of old wooden doors getting slammed with the wind and making sounds that my dad and I joked could be from ghosts. All joking aside, though, you do get an eerie feeling walking around a half-ruined fortress, through places where soldiers used to eat and sleep and fight.

I would definitely recommend visiting Kinsale and Charles Fort if you have the chance to go to Ireland! Maybe don't go in January though... it was pretty cold.

However, lest we forget the awesomeness of Cork, here's a few more photos of the city:

Actually, one thing to say about this week: I absolutely LOVE my Aspects of Irish Folklore class. Thursday was spent learning about St. Brigid, arguably the most popular and important saint in Ireland. She is both a saint and a goddess, representing fertility, abundance, and crafts. She's often associated with the Roman goddess Minerva or the Christian Virgin Mary. She also has a holiday dedicated to her on February 1, the first day of spring in Ireland. I think, if I have the chance, with every blog post I'll share a story I learned from that class. Here's one for this week:

Brigid wanted some land for her monastery so that she could convert the Irish to Christianity. When she asked for this from a landowner, he laughed at her, not taking her seriously, and said, "You can have all the land that your cloak covers." At this, Brigid's cloak, which of course had special powers, began to grow, expanding across the land and flattening the trees as it grew. The landowner was, understandably, flabbergasted, and asked her to stop, and Brigid agreed on the condition that he convert to Christianity. And thus, Brigid got the land to build her monastery.

I personally think Irish folklore is super interesting, and I can't wait to nerd out about it for the rest of the semester. Also, Brigid is my new favorite saint.

Also, I'm thinking about making a masterpost at the end of this semester commenting on all of the sweets here that we don't have back in the U.S. So far, I've tried a Wispa bar, a Kinder Egg, a Flake bar, Mini Eggs, and a Mars Bar. (I'll be honest: this is mostly just an excuse for me to eat candy.)

This is the less exciting part of my abroad experience, although some may argue that it is the most important part. All I know is that after my first week of classes (which is over today because no Friday classes, yay!), the Irish school system is going to take some getting used to.

First of all, unlike American professors, Irish lecturers/teachers (I'm still trying to figure out how to refer to them, but I know that you don't call them professors here) give you a list of texts to read for the semester rather than a syllabus outlining what needs to be read for each day. In general, Irish lecturers are much less present than American professors; I've heard it said that their lectures are the tip of the iceberg, and the work that students do outside of class makes up the bulk of the learning.

This is slightly frightening in that the lecturer will give students a list of about 20 books and papers to read for the semester without guidance on when they need to be read or even on where to obtain them; however, apparently, students aren't expected to read every single text on the list, just the ones that they... think are the most important? Find the most interesting? I'm not really sure. This makes the perfectionist and procrastinator in me quite terrified.

To add to the terror, for most Irish classes, your entire grade for the class (or at least most of it) is based on a final examination at the end of the semester. Sometimes, students are graded by continuous assessment rather than or in addition to the final, which basically means one or two papers throughout the semester. In any case, there is much less attention given to how much of the work students do, since lecturers have an expectation of students that they are independent and self-motivated, perhaps more so than American professors have.

Sorry if that wasn't extremely interesting to read, but perhaps someone will come across this information and find it helpful. 

Anyways, the classes I'm taking are Women in Early Modern Europe, Introduction to Irish Traditional Music, Aspects of Irish Folklore, Introduction to Anglo-Irish Literature, and Celtic Women. I won't go into too much detail, but so far, I like all of them! As intimidating as the Irish collegiate system is, at least my classes have interesting subject matter.

This week hasn't been all about studying, though. On Tuesday, I got the chance to attend the first rehearsal for the UCC Choral Society! (Side note: here, 'societies' are clubs and 'clubs' are sports. It's like the whole chips and crisps and fries thing.) It was a lot of fun, and I would've stayed for the social that went on after rehearsal, except I was pretty cold because...

...it snowed! It was pretty exciting at first, but my idyllic concept of snow was definitely ruined when I had trek through it for 20 minutes to get back to my apartment. Moral of the story: snow is pretty, but I could never live in it. Thankfully, snow is fairly uncommon in Cork. Apparently, this was the first they've had it in about a decade, therefore causing a lot of excitement in the UCC student body.

Speaking of societies, I also went to the Societies Fair on Wednesday, where a bunch of societies set up booths and offered flyers, candy, and the chance to sign up. I signed up for the Choral Society (of course) and the Feminist Society, and I'm also hoping to be a part of the Animal Welfare and English Literature Societies. There's also a Hot Beverage Society, and as a lover of tea, I might have to pop in and see what that one's about.

January 5:

After getting off the plane at around 9am, my fellow IFSA-Butler students and I were driven over to the Mont Clare Hotel, where we were given vouchers for food and essentially allowed to explore Dublin for a while. 

For instance we found this cool park:

Yes, that is a play structure in the shape of a person.

Also some statues:

And yes, that's Oscar Wilde!

Also, we passed by the lovely River Liffey:

Afterwards, we met back at Davenport Hotel across the street from our hotel for a talk on some cultural differences between Ireland and America. Some phrases I learned that day:

Craic: Fun, entertainment (pronounced like "crack"); you can also say, "What's the craic?" which means, "What's up?" 

You'll be grand: You'll be okay.

Session: Either a music session or a drink

Your man/one: Not actually your man, just someone pointing out a stranger.

Getting the shift: Kissing someone

There were a few more I'm sure, but forgive me, I was jet lagged.

That night, we all went out to a very nice restaurant, but unfortunately most of us (including me) were unable to enjoy it due to sleepiness. I know that personally, I had only gotten about 2 and a half hours of sleep in the last 38 hours, so it was all I could do not to fall face-first into my food.

January 6:

Still jet lagged, I managed to rise before the sun and capture the sunrise (or, I guess, attempt to) outside my hotel room window:

(I probably shouldn't go into professional photography...)

The next day, we got up at 9am to do some orientation stuff with the IFSA-Butler staff. They offered us lots of tea and coffee throughout the talks, which included talking about student services, mental health while studying abroad, and an activity called "Bag of Fears," which involved everyone writing a fear about studying abroad on a slip of paper, putting it in a bag, and one of the staff pulling it out and addressing it. It was helpful to know that a lot of people had the same fears as I did.

We then went to Odessa for lunch, and after that, the Guinness Museum!

And, in true Irish fashion, the Museum showed a countdown to St. Patrick's Day:

70 days to go! (Although I guess it'd be 67 by now.)

My favorite part of the museum, though, was the upstairs room called Gravity, which offered drinks (Guinness of course) and breathtaking views of Dublin:

It really strikes me how both modern and ancient Dublin is. There are many industrial parts of it where you can forget that it's existed since 140 A.D., and yet there are also many landmarks that show the age of a European city, reminding me that I'm looking at buildings older than my home country.

January 7:

A bit of a rough day considering the fact that I woke up with a fever and a sore throat and spent the rest of the day feeling slightly nauseous. I was lucky that the bus driver was nice enough to let me sit in the front on the way over to Cork, even though I slept the entire time. We arrived at night and went to Tesco and Pennys to pick up some groceries. By the way, Pennys is my new favorite store--it's super inexpensive and has some really cute products.

January 8:

I felt less sick, good considering the fact that I had even MORE orientations, this time with University College Cork. We spent a long time absorbing and frantically writing down all kinds of important information, although we did get a break, during which some friends and I explored the Cork city center and more of the UCC campus. What I discovered is that, like so many other things in Ireland, UCC is absolutely beautiful.

January 9:

Today, we got our ID cards and a tour of campus. As someone coming from a school of about 2,500 people, I was intimidated by UCC's student population of 18,000, but after the tour, I felt like the school was a little more navigable. At any rate, I'm definitely going to check out the buildings where I might have my classes over the weekend.

After the tour, we went to the Academic Walkabout, which featured representatives from most of the academic departments who could talk to you about the modules (Ireland's term for classes) they're offering that semester. I decided to check out the English, Celtic Civilisation, and Folklore & Ethnology departments, and I've got lots of idea for classes I might want to take.

After that, a group of us visited the Shandon District to check out the St. Anne Church, a tiny sweet shop where I bought some delicious jellybeans, and the famed English Market, which I definitely want to shop at more than Tesco.

Here's some pics of the St. Anne Church:

We also met some cute dogs at the nearby graveyard:

Last but not least, some amusing graffiti and street art:

(No offense to children and children enthusiasts reading this.)