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Hi, Friends!

I was writing an email the other day and almost said "a week ago" which is completely false, as I had only been here for three days at that time. It has been a mix of emotions since day 1 when frustration, confusion, and sleep deprivation dominated, but since then the emotions I have experienced have been much more positive. Each day has been it's own new journey of explorations and these pictures are my way of sharing it with you. Many of them are of churches and religious symbolism, as something I love about being here is that no matter where I am in the city if I look across the vast sky scape I can see any number of church steeples at one time. Others of them are of the landscape of University College Cork, but no matter how hard I try, I am unable to capture the full beauty of the country. 

 

The several things I had agonized over prior to coming melted away when I was able to see for myself how easy it is to use debit/credit cards, to withdraw money from ATMs, and to dress for the weather while still looking "trendy" (which here, means no sweatpants, no matter how well you can pull off the look). Well, enough about that, enjoy the first albums!  

Travel Journal: This journal closely coincides with pictures on the website which I took along the way to show what I couldn’t say in words J

Day 1: Friday, September 12

I met mom and dad and Doc and Sharon that evening at the bed and breakfast they were occupying across from University College Cork as they rolled into the drive way (mom waving and beaming from the “wrong” side of the car) around dinner time. We all walked toward the Mediterranean place I suggested we eat at which was not, by my German father’s standards “Irish enough” so we kept walking. As he eyed the Guinness and Murphy’s Stout signs mounted dilapidated building awnings I racked my brain to think of places with a varied menu with good food. We walked directly into and out of a couple places, one of which the air was so humid it felt like a combination sauna-restaurant and one which was renovating and only serving alcohol and no food. I heard more than my fair share of whining about how far away it was and how much walking this was and questions of did I really walk this far to school every day. For a group of people that prides themselves on walking golf courses instead of driving golf carts and people who crone about how walking is the best exercise ever, this surprised me. I ended up punishing everyone by making them walk fifty more yards and decided on a restaurant a block from my apartment that I had surveyed the night before. We had that awkward “should we stay here or try somewhere else” conversation that lasted way too long, as they perched on their chairs, not quite ready to settle in until the server came over and asked what we wanted to drink.

Before dinner I had been under the impression they were planning on staying two nights when dad started talking about how “if I wanted to I could come along” to Kinsale for a few hours the next morning they could drop me back off around and then they would continue on their way. I was not happy to hear this, as mom had told me all along that they (meaning she) wanted to stay two nights in Cork since I was there and because I would be gone the next week at Inish Mein. I said I was hoping to be able to see them for longer than dinner and a ten minute drive to Kinsale but didn’t want to be a crick in their plans, either. No one seemed to pick up on the fact that my past month had sucked and I had been depressed beyond belief until I began explaining my lack of social life, the weather, how expensive everything is, etc. Then mom got all sad and looked like she was going to cry because I was unhappy. I tried to be positive so as not to bring the group down, saying that I was sure it would be better when the official semester starts and I can be more busy with school. After dinner I played a game of Cribbage with Doc, -I won- and took a bath in the Jacuzzi the bed and breakfast provided in mom and dad’s room. It felt good to sink into a tub that was wider than my hips for a change from the narrow one in my apartment.  

When dad and Doc dropped me off (a ¼ mile away from my apartment because he was unfamiliar with the area) I called Darren on Skype and started crying saying I was scared because I was alone in the apartment and my parents evidently didn’t want to see me anymore than just for dinner (not the case, just me taking their plans to see other parts of Ireland personally).

Sleep was lacking last night. I spent the night alone for the first time in mine and Tiffany’s apartment. I locked the bedroom door from inside with the ancient key and though it was frustrating when I had to go to the kitchen to get a drink of water, it was better than being caught off guard by some psycho who presumably would have scaled the walls of the building and climbed up five stories to get to my apartment…better to be safe than sorry.

I was frustrated because I had given away a ticket for Riverdance that my Literatures in Ireland class was attending because I had been under the impression they would at least be sticking around Cork through Friday night. On top of that, I was disappointed because Tiffany would be gone the whole weekend with Chelsey from class on a trip to Dingle so I would be alone and miserable with no friends again and no money to spend to make it more bearable. I hadn’t told my parents about my free weekend until they called my cell phone at 8 a.m. to inquire as to whether they would be attempting getting to my apartment again to pick me up. I made it easier for them and said I would walk to them and would be there soon. It seemed almost wrong getting out of bed and getting ready for the day with having gotten so little sleep.

I arrived at the Crawford House Bed and Breakfast where dad greeted me at the door. The first thing he said was “there’s been a change of plans…you’re coming with us”. I smiled and he continued, saying since I had a free weekend and days on either side of it that I didn’t need to be in Cork for it just made sense that I go along with them and meet up with the class for the island at Galway. They always have been awesome like that.  

We drove through Kinsale and up to Dingle and the sights were spectacular. The narrow roads and fast speeds took some getting used to for the 55+ year old non drivers in the car and much of the car ride was filled with comments about why the roads here aren’t wider, and repeatedly asking Dad to drive more slowly on the scary roads. We  probably passed over two hundred lost sheep wandering alongside the road. I have never in my life heard more sheep jokes, comments, and observations in my life thanks to Mom and Sharon who just kept them coming between their complaints that the air in the car was too cold, too warm, to fast, etc.  

We stopped at several scenic overlooks where I was able to capture some great pictures. Dad would stop the car just long enough that I could jump out and snap a couple photographs of the cliffs and ocean. The weather was mild but the misty rain Ireland is accustomed to moistened the car windows just enough for my dad to figure out how to engage the wipers. We wouldn’t be able to check into the B & B we had arranged to stay at until after 2 p.m. so we stopped at a museum and public sculpture and flower garden with rose bushes and flowers of every color and variety. The sun had come out just as we parked the car and the garden was breath taking.

We arrived at Benoksee Bed and Breakfast at 2 p.m. and roughly 100 yards from the end of the driveway was the Atlantic ocean and the sun shining upon it. We all climbed out of the car and breathed in the ocean air. Mary and Michael, Benoksee’s proprietors. welcomed the five of us warmly and cake and tea were served. The quaint room was set up with a twin bed cot set alongside the queen bed my parents shared.

Day 2: Saturday September 13

A very big Irish breakfast was had by all. We spent the day seeing Dingle off the beaten path. We went to the farthest point of Dingle and parked the car. The wind was strong and the sailors out on their sail boats seemed to be doing well. I climbed to the top of a high, steep hill to look out onto the cliffs and to capture a picture of the lone sail boat. After lunch while everyone else was taking their respective afternoon naps. Dad and I wandered down to the white sand beach in front of our B and B. Daddy daughter time consisted of dad explaining the tide to me and picking up clam shells that resembled butterflies. My favorite ones were the ones tinted with purple and blues and dad liked the gold tinted ones. We found one that the clam was still inside and alive. I had worn my new wellies so I waded in the ocean and tried to convince my dad to go swimming but he didn’t want to. The sand was soft and warm, and the smell of washed up kelp from low tide was strong but easy to ignore with the vast sand and clear water distracting us. What a beautiful day. I am happy with the pictures I was able to take on the beach. We eat dinner down by the ocean. Fish and fries for dinner and a pint of Guiness. We all split a piece of apple pie and ice cream.

Day 3: Sunday September 14

I chose the fruit plate for breakfast and it was fantastic. The slices of fruit were presented very beautifully. Mary, the proprietor, is so warm and sweet. It might just be her Irish accent and her constant scurrying around the B & B to make sure everyone is content, but regardless, she loves what she is doing and makes it look effortless. We all went to Mass in Castlegregory at 11:30 A.M. Mass was in English and the priest spoke very clearly and unquestionably loudly enough that my uncle who is very hard of hearing heard him without problem. The homily was wonderful and the car ride from the church back to the B and B consisted of us all commenting on how quick the Mass was and how the homily could have applied to anyone and how it was very true. Mom couldn’t believe how everyone just crowded around the communion rail instead of forming a line for communion. Again, we drove around Castlegregory and Dingle and checked out the boats down by the marina and other spots off the tourist track that looked out over the country. We eat dinner at Ned Natterjacks, a local pub. Dad and I have two pints of Guinness, fish with lemon butter sauce and fries with vinegar and ketchup.Mmmm.

Day 4: Monday September 15

After another grand breakfast we packed our things and got in the car to drive up to the Cliffs of Moher and Galway. I just have to be at where the ferry leaves from in Galway Bay tomorrow by to meet up with my class for the ferry to the island. We spend much of the day in the car and we find out that my estimate of twenty minutes from where we were to where I need to be the next day if off by three hours. We keep driving so we can get closer to Rossaveal where I will leave from. We decide on Woodville B & B in Salthill with another beautiful view. We call the proprietors once we’re in town to give us directions from where we are to where they are and instead of giving us directions, he just drives over and meets us in town and leads us up to their house. Our room is very nice, with another great view. This time, of Galway Bay. Dinner is at a local pub and fantastic: two pints of Smithwicks (one for Nat and one for Scott, and so, so good), fries, fish, and salad. Very filling. I go to bed at 8:00 P.M. because I will wake up in a few hours to call Darren after football and at a time convenient for him…funny how that works J Having the cell phone is great for when there is no wireless internet/wifi at places.   

Day 5: Tuesday September 16

The table at breakfast is set very fancy. My scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausages arrive piping hot. It looks amazing and tastes even better. This is the third person I have met that is beside themselves that I don’t drink hot coffee or tea with breakfast. I drink three glasses of orange juice and excuse myself to go shower and pack since I have to shower and make sure I have enough space in my backpack for everything I brought including the wellies which I am hoping to not have to wear onto the ferry. We drive around randomly a lot today, I am not in a good mood since the four adults are all being passively unvocal about how they would like to spend the remainder of their time here. I tell them they probably won’t get another chance to come back to Europe and while they are here they should all see what they can and travel outside Ireland if they want. Mom and dad get upset that I am being too honest with them and say it means more to them to spend time with me. I get frustrated and tell them we really haven’t seen anything in that we drove past the Cliffs of Moher since dad thought it too “touristy” and it was too far a walk. I find out about an hour after we drive by that there is a trolly car that brings people who don’t walk well to the top and also a ferry for 10 euro that takes riders on the water to see the cliffs from the bottom. They appear disinterested in going back, so I will have to return before December to see the cliffs closely and from above as I couldn’t make them out well from the way the road curved away from them on top of the 60 km/hour speed dad was driving. We stopped in a small town mid afternoon and walked around a jewelry store and some other shops. I got a bowl of seafood chowder. There were some sea creatures in it I did not recognize and I still wonder what they were…it was good, though. I sat outside the pub with my carbonated lemon drink OVER ICE which never happens here, so I was pretty stoked. When 3:30 rolled around I convinced everyone to just drop me off at the ferry dock instead of waiting around for two and a half hours with me. Mom didn’t like that idea, but everyone else seemed to, so I hugged everyone goodbye, thanked them for coming all the way to Ireland to see me, strapped on my large and in-charge backpack, iPod, and scarf, and wandered over toward a picnic table to wave goodbye and wait to meet the ferry with my classmates. Then, off to Inis Meain.  

Ah, the three month "semester" I have heard so much about has arrived at last. Registering for classes was this morning at 9:30 A.M., but me, paranoid and fearful of getting set back a semester if I didn't get the classes I needed, showed up at 8:45 A.M. They let me register early, and everything went smoothly. The registrar was moderately concerned when I signed up for 5 English major classes, as three or four is the norm, but I assured her I could handle it. Because the walk from campus to my apartment is 13 minutes, and I don't have class until noon, and it was 9:10 when I got done registering, I agonized over whether to sit around and do nothing on campus or walk home and go back to sleep until 11:30 A.M. The nap was very refreshing and I even feel revitalized enough to switch out of my standard sweatpants to jeans. And that can be a feat. 

My docket of classes for the day only featured two classes out of my five for the week: Eighteenth Century Literature and Contemporary Irish Writing. Eighteenth Century Lit. (classified at UCC as the equivalent of a sophomore level class) consisted of the two professors explaining MLA style and how to look up articles on JSTOR and Project Muse. WAY old hat. Tiffany (my roommate) and I are figuring this class won't be much of a challenge as many of the other students are underclassmen, while we're both in our Senior years. The lecture hall was filled with girls wearing different combinations of black tights/nylons with likely intentional holes in them paired with denim/plaid skirts and tops that didn't match anything...I guess alternative/grunge style is what the English students prefer to wear. Then you have your American females walking/sitting/standing/crowding around in their standard group of three to four. It's fascinating how people too insecure to exist in life as individuals actually begin to adhere to one another, unable to walk to destinations alone.

 

A Sushi man is forming California rolls in the middle of campus and I walk past it once, deciding that the next time I walk past on my way back I will stop and buy lunch from him. I do. It is presented in a thin wooden tray presumably made of thick popsicle sticks, and slipped into a bag he gives me to take to my next class with me. Two prawns complete with eyes still on aid in the presentation of my lunch, set on top of the rolls and above and inbetween the squirt of wasabi and ginger shavings. This is the first Sushi I have seen since getting to Ireland and it is delicious. I hope the stand is there every day.  

 

The next class, Contemporary Irish Writing never begins, as the Professor decides not to show up. Unlike the U.S. and UNI, students wait twenty minutes before filtering out of the lecture hall. That's a great first day of classes!  I head over to the Mardyke Arena to work out but find a new way to get there from campus which takes significantly longer than the way I know. I won't ever go the "new" way again since it took longer than it would have taken me crawling the other way. Live and learn.  

My dad informed me a couple weeks ago that I come home in 64 days. And as of today, I believe I have something like 52 days left here, which is crazy that the end is actually in sight. I don't know where the weeks go! Since the last jounal, nothing too exciting has happened (hence the lack of journal entries).

I am now a proud member of the UCC Rowing team, which is a lot of "good craic" and it's wonderful to be in a college sport again and getting back into shape. We have land training twice per week and we're on the River Lee every Saturday and Sunday morning bright and early. Last week, Coach knew the weather was supposed to be pretty windy and rainy, and we ended up having an odd number of girls show up, and selected me as the "lucky" one to sit out the first boat of girls and ride along with him in his motorized coaching boat. While the wind splattered cold rain in my face and I blocked it from hitting him, he was able to coach the girls from our boat getting only slightly misted. The rain poured for the next hour and rowing with the second crew was miserable as I couldn't have been more wet had I jumped into the river. And, of course, Coach proceeded to comment to us how dry his rain jacket was keeping him while we shivered in our sweatshirts and UnderArmour. When I came into the apartment my roommate just stared at the dripping mess I was and proceeded to make me a coffee and soup...much appreciated after all of that.

School is going well, my favorite classes are Medieval and Renaissance Drama, and Shakespeare which are both taught by the same professor, Mr. King. Every day he wears some combination of shirt and tie guaranteed to wow and entertain the 200 person lecture hall, my favorite being his matching paisley-maroon and white shirt and tie combination. Imagine that decorative wrapping paper you like. As my roommate put it, the identical shirt with matching tie combinations (we've seen three variations) had to have been hand-made for him...it boggles the mind. Honestly, the part of The Sound of Music where she makes the Von Trapp children outfits out of "nothing but DRAPES!" is the only parallel I can make to this man's wardobe. He has a wife though, so the implied reasoning the initally crossed my mind seems to be false. We learn a lot too, though, he's fascinating and knows loads about drama, and jokes enough to keep everyone paying attention. I will miss those classes and that professor. Guaranteed. 

I no longer jiggle the handle of the apartment door after I lock it "just to make sure it's locked;" I no longer hide my laptop under my bed covers so as to trick whomever might break into the apartment into overlooking the rectangular bulge beneath the blankets, and I no longer fear for my life when crossing the busy streets of Cork. Rather, it has happened, I have acclimated. I walk home from the grocery store carrying milk, bread, and bananas without a bag because they charge here for those, instead of graciously providing them without cost like back in the U.S. I've begun to automatically hold my breath when walking by the bus stops of people all smoking cigarettes on my walk to and from school. It makes sense to me why everyone eats a bowl of soup and two pieces of bread for lunch, and I understand why so much value and emphasis are placed on conversation and friendship in the Irish culture. I like and very much enjoy the no-tipping policy in restaurants and I have begun to appreciate that waitresses don't interrupt meals to hesitatingly and mandatorily ask how the meal is going. Things that were at one time staggeringly different and frustrating are now what I prefer in some instances.

 

It's interesting, as of two weekends ago, over half-way through my having lived here, my roommate and I decided to stop being afraid and go explore the unfamiliar territory that was Ireland without a tour guide of a teacher. We checked and re-checked bus schedules to Blarney Castle, looked outside at the dreary, excuse for a day outside, and decided we didn't care, and that we were going anyway. We concluded that what better day to see one of the monumental landmarks of Ireland than a day like this. Our rain jackets and the bottoms of our pant legs were more than damp by the time our fifteen-minute walk to the bus station commenced. All we knew for sure was the number of the bus to get on to go to Blarney, and we had no idea where to go when we got there. As you can see by the pictures, we had a successful and very educational trip, while having the opportunity to see the view of the Irish countryside everyone imagines, but most people rarely see, from the top of Blarney Castle. After all our energy had been drained, we were able to find a restaurant in town with hot food and, of course, a full bar. We passed on the full bar option as we have both chosen to refrain from drinking since the first month we got here, as we saw the toll it took on our bank accounts, and the atmosphere was actually worse than the bar scene we had previously been exposed to in the U.S. By the end of the day we were soaked from head to toe from the walk around the castle grounds and back from the bus station, but very pleased and content nonetheless with the pictures we were able to take and souveniers we purchased in the Blarney Woolen Mills and gift shops.

 

My roommate and I were awake all night last night. Tiff ended up going to bed around 4:30 AM and I walked from the living room to my bedroom with my eyes closed. We are both English majors, and this week is ''essay week'' at UCC. Two essays per class make up the grades we will get for the classes and we each had very important essays due today in Contemporary Irish Literature on Irish poetry. However, it was election night, so between our copiously detailed paragraphs on what we thought the brash professor was looking for, two anxious and concerned American college students carefully followed the race to 270. Neither of us, like the majority of Americans educated enough on the democratic and republican platfroms were sold on either candidate to support either one whole heartedly. Rather, our reservations were in McCain's prolonging the war, his age, Sarah Palin's incapability to be a successful Vice President, and in Obama's disregard for protection of unborn life, taxation, and his instant charisma throughout the campaign, which was also seen in leaders like Hitler who had the ability to captivate and wow supporters when he reigned. We discussed how 'political' this race to 270 electoral college votes is, in that states like California and the mass majority of the new England states to be liberal, and thus democratic and for Obama. We also discussed how if it had been McCain who had won, it would have been immediately concluded by Obama supporters that America and republicans are racist, and if it was Obama that America elected, that it was because Americans and democrats were discriminating agaist McCain's age and Sarah Palin being a woman. Whatever way one slices it, there is no way to satisfy every person's ideal government. Tiffany made a great point about control of the House seats in that having all the power on one side=bad news, and we've seen that before. Honestly, I feel this way about American politics:

-It is time for the war to be over. If we haven't gotten accomplished what we needed to in this time, we hever will and it is time to bring our men and women home to their families.

-Life of the unborn needs to be respected and cherished, and except in extraordinary cases, like those rare ones of rape resulting in pregnancy, abortion should not be an option, let alone an encouraged and promoted way of controlling one's sexual apetite. People need to take responsibility for their choices to have premarital sex, unprotected sex, and for leading lives of promiscuity. Adoption needs to be encouraged rather than abortion and abortive practices such as the morning after pill.

-The economy is not just going to magically get better. Several different techniques will need to be enacted to make this happen and it is going to take time.

-The income gap is too wide. The only circumstance where I feel anyone should be homeless and living on the streets is if they are on drugs, unable or unwilling to seek rehabilitation, or in compulsive gambling debt and unable or unwilling to seek rehabilitation. In America which proclaims freedom and equal rights, where are the rights for the children born on the streets and immediately at a disadvantage because of their mothers and fathers choices?

-More money and resources need to be put into charities and organizations responsible for bringing aid to victims of natural disasters. Many of the people (namely college students)who choose to give of their money and time to relief efforts like charities helping Hurricanes Katrina, and Rita among others are not the people who can afford to give upwards of 300 dollars for a trip down to the Gulf Coast, but the alternative is not helping rebuild houses and one more family having no home for one more day, so they do it anyway, sacrificing whatever it is they need to in order to give to a cause they believe in. At the very least, more than simple tax write-offs need to be what encourages people to give of their excess to reputable charities.

 

This is how I feel about those issues. I do not expect anyone else to agree with me, but simply consider my thoughts with the people's best interest in mind. Ask yourself, is it really in our best interest to _______ then judge what I wrote. Thank you for your time, and believe me, watching history being made from abroad was something I will never forget. I pray Obama follows through on his promises and I hope with all my heart that someday the American people will learn to respect one another's differences in opinion while working toward what is in the best interest of all Americans. Thank you for your time. -Lindsay