Munich & Ireland's Unlucky Week

So, it's been an interesting few weeks since I last updated. They involved a country where English was not spoken (and no, I'm not talking about Ireland this time!) and an epic flood. But I'm getting ahead of myself now.

My first two weeks after leaving the island (for a tiny nearby island within the same country) were fairly uninteresting because of tests and essays and things like that. There was another exciting weekend filled with super-fun activities like grocery shopping at Tesco! And then there were more papers to write, by which I mean avoid. But then something actually cool happened: I went to Munich!
Right before I went, I realized a few things:
a) Although I'd lived abroad for three months, I hadn't left Ireland yet. Unless you count Northern Ireland, which I don't really because you don't even need a passport! There aren't signs! It's the same island, and come on, half of the Republic goes shopping there.
b) This would be my first time navigating an airport alone.
c) This would be my first time in a non-English-speaking country. You know, if we're not counting Ireland.
You may not know it, but the truth is that they don't actually speak English in Cork. The “southern accent” is mocked by figures ranging from Dublin cab drivers to Joyce, and even after more than three months here occasionally I will listen to someone and not understand a single word. If you do not believe me, watch a movie filmed in Cork (like The Wind that Shakes the Barley) and then imagine that accent in the mouth of a normal person, not an actor. Pretty incomprehensible. Now you're probably thinking, “Just because they say 'grand' and 'you're very welcome' and all sorts of strange words like 'hurley stick' and apparently never learned that there are multiple spellings of 'there' doesn't mean they don't speak English.” Okay, fair enough, but I have anecdotes to disprove you. These both come from Irish, where our teacher has a very thick accent:
A typical spoken Irish class: My friend, who draws a lot during class, is asked by the teacher to draw a scene on the board. Then, we spend the entire hour describing the scene using very basic IrishTeacher: Draw a board.
Student: A board?
Teacher: Yes, a board.
Student: I'm drawing on a board... why would there be a board in this picture?
Teacher: You know, a BOARD.
The teacher then draws a “v” shape on the board.
Student: Oh, a BIRD!
Or, the next Irish class:
Teacher: Seán is eating.
Class: Tá Seán ag ithe.
Teacher: Seán is drinking.
Class: Tá Seán ag ól.Teacher: Seán is walking.
Class: Tá Seán ag siúl.
Teacher: Seán is walking.
Class: Tá Seán ag siúl.
Teacher: No, Seán is WALKING. Tá Seán ag obair.
Class: Ohh, he means WORKING.
I know, these kinds of problems come up all the time in language classes. (Although it's pretty likely that our teacher is a native English speaker...) The next example does not have the same defense. From a very professional email our history teacher sent out about returning our essays:
“PS Message to all French students – if your mob beat Ireland tomorrow night I’m failing the bleddy lot of yiz…”
This teacher is from England, so I have no explanation. Also, we will return to this email later...
Anyway, back to my German adventure. As you probably know, I am a very unlucky person (or perhaps incompetent, or entirely deserving because of bad karma – I prefer my interpretation). Couple this with Ireland, where I believe Murphy's Law exerts a stronger force, and you will understand how I could be unaware of daylight savings time for two days and have so many 9 am classes. Of course, this bad luck would have to manifest when it comes to my exciting adventure.
Long story short: the day before my flight, I did online check-in, only to discover that I couldn't print my boarding pass; the company with which I had reserved my taxi kept calling me when I was in class or sleeping, saying that I needed to “confirm” I needed it, despite multiple confirmation emails I sent; I needed cash but all the ATMs were broken; and I couldn't find my student ID card anywhere. I was convinced that my taxi wouldn't show up and I would miss my flight. In the event that my taxi did get me to the airport, I probably couldn't pay for it, and then I wouldn't be allowed on the flight anyway. Oh, and even if I somehow managed to get to Germany, I would most likely be forbidden to reenter Ireland because I couldn't prove I was an actual student. Thankfully, I worried over nothing, and after navigating the smallest airport ever (only eight or nine gates!) and having something called “white coffee,” which is really the only evidence you need that you shouldn't drink coffee in Ireland, I was on my way to Germany!

I must admit that my expectations for Germany were ridiculously high. It's Europe! To be honest, I imagined Munich to be the wonderful, glamorous opposite of Ireland. All of the things that had started to bother me about Ireland – terrible public transportation, such laid back people, some really unfortunate architecture, and the lack of trees – would be just the opposite there. And how right I was! Even from the plane, the fields looked more organized and stereotypically German. There were forests! I could even see the Alps in the distance. Walking through the city with Amber, I marveled at the beautiful architecture and sophistication. All the upscale shops! (Seriously, though, is everyone rich in Munich? Because everything was so expensive and classy, for blocks and blocks). Crazy elaborate glockenspiels! Fancy palaces and treasures! And a ridiculous amount of chocolate shops. I had an amazing laugh when Amber thought Latin was German, which she will never ever live down. Oh, and they actually had an Apple store. I wondered why I had gone to Ireland at all (you know, besides the language barriers and things like that).

Anyway, all that was just Friday. On Saturday, we awoke early for our trip to Neuschwanstein! In case you don't know, this is the castle Disney used as his model. It's the original fairytale castle in the Alps. Our day began inauspiciously with the epic pants story. I would share but it's truly Amber's tale to tell and I think she made me promise I wouldn't tell it. Anyway, after eating a very bizarre hostel-take on German breakfast, which involved lunch meat and Kaiser rolls and weird stuff like that, we went on our ten-hour tour of Bavaria. It was so amazing that I could hardly believe it.

The two castles we saw were ridiculously beautiful and being in the Alps was incredible. It was a bit like being in a postcard, a bit surreal. Our tour guide was wonderful and had the funniest fake-English expressions. Also, I want to befriend King Ludwig II, who built the castles. Basically, if you want more details you will have to ask me in person, because this entry would be way too long if I included them all. Just know that we saw lots of great romanticized German things, and they were awesome. Unfortunately, we had to return to Munich and leave the fairytale land. We explored this awesome department store that had everything from an upscale grocery store to traditional German clothing, walked around the city, and ate Middle Eastern food! As much as I liked German food, it is really very heavy and filling and we wanted something a little different (also, I don't think Amber could've taken another meal of schnitzel).

Amber left early Sunday morning, as she has to actually show up to her classes in Italy. That left me alone in the city. Of course, the first thing I did was get lost. It was entirely unintentional but perhaps unsurprising, as I was just wandering around and taking pictures of interesting things, of which there are many. My general goal was the English garden, which I'd heard was very cool. I ran into an American who worked with the Department of Education and helped her find her hotel near the English garden. Or so I thought.... after walking around the park for twenty minutes, it turned out it was actually a different park. By the time I made it to the English garden, it was drizzly and very depressing weather. I decided to make my way to the Alte Pinakothek, the big art museum in Munich. I had sushi on the way which was way too expensive but worth it, since I hadn't eaten Japanese food since August. The museum was very cool but since I got lost I didn't have as much time to explore it as I would've liked.

The next morning, I was off to Ireland again. I really loved Munich – although my last day was a little bit less fun, mostly because I was alone and the weather became awful – and was sad to leave. My three days there left me a bit confused as to how a city could be responsible for fairytale castles and Hitler, organized and prompt trains and beer halls. I felt like I needed more time to understand everything, and maybe a German language book as well.

On the way back to Cork, the strangest thing happened. Maybe it was my first glimpse of the sun in several days; maybe it was reading Joyce's The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

and by chance reaching the section where Stephen visits Cork with his father and Mr. Dedalus reminisces about growing up there; or maybe it was hearing a language I understood once more: but I realized that I was so happy to come back to Cork! It felt like coming home. Which is really just problematic, because if you've got two homes you're homesick no matter what. It was so unexpected. After all my complaining about everything, I realized that I needed to leave to get a little bit of perspective. I love how small and unpretentious Cork is, how its main street is filled with discount stores like Dunnes and Penney's, not just designer names; how the people are so friendly and laid back, and strangers really will talk to you in pubs or in class; and even how they don't have fairytale castles, just crumbling stone castles all over the countryside.

And so I was back in Cork! It was a beautiful afternoon, marred only by the notice that a UCC student had been missing for several days. This was the beginning of what I will call Ireland's bad luck streak. The weekend I was gone, there had been bad storms and four students at NUIG (National University of Ireland Galway) had been killed in a car accident. And yes, if you are wondering, deaths from car accidents are national news here. The ten-day weather forecast said ten days of rain. On Wednesday, Ireland had a qualifying soccer match against France. It looked like Ireland would win – until the last moment, when an illegal hand ball scored a goal for France and knocked Ireland out of the running. I had stopped watching the game at that point, but knew that they had lost by the groans and yells that came simultaneously from all around the dorm. The next day was even more ridiculously rainy and miserable. I dragged myself to English and got completely soaked despite my umbrella. Probably only about ¼ of the class had showed up, though whether this was because of the disappointing soccer match or the weather or some combination of the two, I wasn't sure. I stayed on campus and it continued to rain through studying in the library, my two classes, and the English society meeting (where, once again, very few people showed up). Rain in Ireland, what a surprise, right? We headed over to the Cricket club, where the field and path were covered in puddles, and went inside. One of my contacts had been driving me crazy so I had taken it out, leaving me with terrible vision and, consequently, a bad headache. I decided to leave early because of my head and because one of the guys in the society said that the weather was just getting worse. I said I wanted to avoid getting completely soaked, to which they sarcastically wished me luck. Oh, how right they were.

Just leaving the club, my feet became drenched as the field was now covered in water. But hey, that happens sometimes when it rains a lot. As I walked home, I noticed that there were some

pretty enormous puddles. Laughing at students across the street who were trying to navigate around a huge pond of water, I congratulated myself for choosing the right side of the road. I got to one of the bridges leading to my dorm and looked at the church parking lot next to the river – which was completely covered in water. The River Lee had spilled over into it. Wow, I thought. Then, when I got over the bridge, I realized that my side of the road was covered in water. I crossed the street and... the road was completely submerged. Several students were there, trying to decide how to return to their dorms. We decided just to wade across. And so I waded through two and a half feet of ice cold flowing water, finally emerging on top of the bridge, only to see that I would need to go through the water again. Crowds of students had gathered to see the flooded roads. Already, Victoria Lodge, the dorm nearest mine, had a completely flooded entrance. But of course, all I cared about was getting a warm shower and sleeping off my

headache.

The next morning, I awoke for my classes. I absently wondered whether there would still be any water. Oh, how wrong I was.

Heading outside, I discovered that I literally could not get to campus without completely soaking myself as the water had in fact increased. Just leaving my building required wading through several inches of water, as in the night it had continued to rain and the garage and lower level of the dorm had flooded. Had I ventured into the town (I didn't, which I somewhat regret now), I would've seen that all the roads were underwater. We gradually learned that our internet was down, but at least we had electricity (unlike some of the dorms); that the water pumping plant had been contaminated so we weren't supposed to drink the water; and that classes had been closed for the day (Friday) but also for all of next week. Apparently, it was the worst flooding in 800 years. Don't ask me how they came up with that number. Still, it was definitely a pretty chaotic situation. As you can see, things have mostly settled now – I have internet again, and even went into the city centre on Monday. Hopefully it doesn't flood again.

Oh, and I'm going to Paris on Friday! I almost wish that things would be less interesting. But not really. Now I have a cool story and a week off. Awesome.

A visit from a friend, many buses, a boat, cliffs, and three rainbows

Wow, another update so quickly?! I know, it's shocking. But as I get to that time when I have work to do (like that English paper...), you can probably expect more frequent updates as I try to devise new methods of procrastination. Also, I actually did something cool! And I thought you might want to hear (read) about it.

So, as you may know, my super-awesome friend Amber from Swarthmore is studying abroad in Siena, Italy this semester. Last week she had a ten day break (which makes me realllly jealous as I'm going from August 21 to the end of December with only one pathetic little day off – and it rained anyway – but I digress) and she spent it doing some really cool things, including visiting me! If you want to read her account of our adventures, you can head over to her blog, but only after you've read mine.

Amber arrived in Cork on Wednesday night. I was supposed to have finished my horrible history book review (mentioned in my last entry) by that point, but thanks to a combination of the terrible library, getting sick a second time, a really interesting incident in which I was unaware of the existence of Irish daylight savings time for an entire TWO DAYS, and my seeming inability to finish anything ahead of schedule, I hadn't written it yet. Anyway, I made fake Mexican food and we talked about being abroad, but mostly about Swat.

The next day, while I went to my contemporary lit class and worked on my paper, Amber wisely decided to visit the Blarney stone. She originally asked, “What are the touristy things in Cork?” To which I responded with a blank look. I am a very bad tourist, obviously: I've been here two and a half months and have yet to visit St. Finbarr's Cathedral... or either of the two touristy towns just south of Cork. But also Cork isn't really for tourists. Rick Steves doesn't even mention it in his guide to Ireland, which is kinda harsh, but it's nice to live in a place that isn't filled with tourist shops. Anyway, it was pouring rain – shocker, I know, rain in Ireland at the end of October – so I'm not sure how much my guest enjoyed being a tourist, although she did seem to like shopping at Dunnes Store (“the Irish Target,” according to her).

We met up and she went to two of my classes, because Swatties can only go so long without subjecting themselves to unnecessary academics. First we went to Irish, which is really relaxed. My teacher Seán (we don't actually know his last name) made Amber participate but let her keep the booklet at the end of the class, which is kind of unfair since I had to pay for it. Then we went to my class on the Mabinogi, which luckily is just a bunch of tangents anyway so she could mostly understand the stories without having any idea what the Mabinogi is. We mostly talked about Arthurian legends and magic cauldrons, to give you an idea of how awesome that class is.

Originally, we planned to go to the English Society meeting, which was actually a poetry reading that night, but decided it was a bad idea. Although Amber wanted to meet the weird people I'd described (mostly this annoying American I dislike), I still had a paper to write and we hadn't planned anything for the upcoming weekend. Instead, we went and ate at the Chinese restaurant across from my dorm, which was actually pretty good. Afterwards we planned our weekend out, which was a horribly long and annoying process because the train and bus schedules are annoying and Rick Steves kept suggesting that we leave from tiny little fishing villages that you can never get to. Finally, he offered a good plan and we managed to plan buses, book hostels, and even reserve a ferry ride!

After a late bedtime, I woke up at a ridiculous hour to finish my history paper. I think I slept for maybe three hours... I'm not sure. Anyway I have three Friday classes, starting at 9 am, so we went over to campus. Finally, at 2:30, we were packed and ready to leave for the west coast of Ireland! Our bus from Cork to Galway left at 3:30, so we figured that an hour would be plenty of time to take the ten minute bus ride into the city centre and buy tickets. Oh, how I wish it were true. After waiting outside in the rain for thirty minutes – during which time three buses were supposed to have arrived, and of course didn't because this is Ireland – a bus came. Then it drove by without stopping, because it was full (which happens when the bus only shows up 25% of the time, I guess). I was mad, but have grown to expect this, which Amber did not. At least now I have someone to confirm that the public transportation here really IS that bad. Our only option was to walk to the bus station, an hour walk (in the rain, with luggage). As it was now 3:00, and our bus left at 3:25, you can see this was an issue. We attempted to flag cabs but they wouldn't stop either, as they were en route to pick up people who called. So we walked the whole way. Luckily, there was another bus which left at 4:30, so we hadn't dragged ourselves through the rain for an hour for nothing. Our bus ride was improbably dramatic: our inability to understand the thick Cork accent of our driver (I'm telling you, it's not really English!) and thus our confusion about where we were actually going; me almost losing my bus ticket between our literally thirty second bus transfer in Limerick, and frantically searching for it so we weren't stranded in the city known for its stabbings (it's not that violent, but standards are pretty low in Ireland); an amazingly uncomfortable twenty minutes on a bus in which I think I managed to get bruises on my knees, the girl in front of me had leaned her seat so far back (and during which one guy sat in the aisle for five minutes, so it could've been worse); my umbrella mysteriously vanishing; Amber's suitcase falling down the stairs in the emergency exit of the bus, which was hilarious; and fun stuff like that. Finally, at 8:30, we arrived in Galway! Once we got there, we checked into our hostel and then (finally) ate dinner. It was a pretty cool place called the Druid Lane Restaurant, which I definitely picked for its awesome name, and ate some delicious food. I'm pretty sure they had the same clock as my mom, which was weird. We hung out for a bit after that, but as you can imagine I was a little tired, so we headed in fairly early.

We had an early morning Saturday. I was coughing ridiculously, which was usually bearable during the day but made it impossible to sleep, so we wandered around Galway, ending at Eyre Square and this crazy mall that had a fake castle inside. Also, they had a fortune teller in the tower of the fake castle! I probably would've wasted my money there if it had been open. We found a pharmacy then went to pick up our tickets for the ferry. Where was this ferry to? The Aran Islands! An hour shuttle ride later, we were on the awesome boat, heading across the Atlantic to the largest island, Inis Mór (pronounced In-ish-more, and sometimes spelled that way, without the dashes obviously). The Aran Islands are awesome because they are remote and a place where the “old way” of Irish life is preserved. They've had this reputation for at least a century, as Yeats sent the aspiring playwright Synge there to experience Irish peasant life in the early twentieth century (I'd recommend reading “The Playboy of the Western World” if you want to read something by Synge, especially since it caused rioting!). They are also very beautiful. Once we got there, we went on a buggy ride around the island! If this sounds awesome, that's because it was. We heard all about the beautiful places and culture. Apparently I look Irish and so we talked about families, from which I learned that the most famous church on the island is Teampall Chiaráin, or the Church of Kieran.

Then, the buggy dropped us off at the bottom of a big hill. At the top of a stony climb – Patrick, our buggy driver, declared that “you have to go to the moon to see more rocks!” and it's true – sits Dún Aonghasa, an amazing prehistoric stone fort and 300 foot high cliffs.

Now, if this site were in America, you would not be able to get anywhere near cliffs that drop 300 feet into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and really rough waves. But there isn't so much as a handrail here, because it's Ireland! Everyone just lies down and looks out over the Atlantic. If this sounds at all frightening, you'll be totally reassured by Patrick's story: “It's actually really safe. Only one person has died. It was last year, in January. A man was looking out, and the wind was so strong it just blew him over the edge.” Which is actually very believable, considering how windy it was up there. Anyway, pictures don't do the site any justice; it's really something that has to be experienced. We sadly had to descend at some point, so we went and checked out these two tiny shops. The women minding them knitted new stuff as they worked, and didn't have cash registers, just jars with change in them. One of the women sold postcards she designed herself (and which two of you may be lucky enough to receive) and chatted eagerly about the popular knitting designs and the increasing price of plastic bags (they are obscenely expensive in Ireland, though!).

(Also, can I say now that I had an INCREDIBLE cell phone signal on the top of this cliff, as well as on the ferry literally on the Atlantic Ocean? How is it that I can get a better signal in the middle of the ocean than in my apartment, Meteor?!)

After this, we returned to the main village (and I really mean village), Kilronan, did a little shopping at the Aran Sweater Market, and then went to Tí Joe Watty's, a pub, for a late lunch of fish and chips. It was the fresh catch of the day, and there were locals playing Irish songs and singing. I can't really think of another way to tell you how awesome it was.

Sadly, it was 5:00 so we had to return to the mainland. Another super amazing boat ride later – what can I say, I love traveling on the ocean; it must be my Viking blood – and then another shuttle ride, during which it started to pour after a perfect sunny day, and we were back in Galway. We grabbed our luggage, ate at McDonald's (hey, we wanted to see how the cultural differences would manifest in fast food! Also, we didn't have much time), then got these ridiculous crepes filled with chocolate sauce, toasted marshmallow, M&Ms, and vanilla ice cream which were messy to eat but obviously really delicious. Then we were on a bus to Dublin, and it's pretty boring after that. Let me just say I was on a bus for four hours Friday and another four hours Saturday, plus two hours on a shuttle bus and another two hours on a ferry Saturday (although I stood for most of that), then four and a half hours on Sunday from Dublin to Cork, for a total of something like 16 ½ hours traveling over a weekend. Let me tell you, that's a lot more than the hours I spent sleeping... but it was an amazing trip! And I'd definitely suggest you do it.

We went to Dublin after that so Amber could catch her early morning flight, and I must say it was mostly uneventful. You probably remember that my initial experience in Dublin was rather unfortunate - jet lag, getting lost, rain, etc - so that may have colored my opinion. But also, there's being in Cork. I'm not sure if I've already mentioned that Cork and Dublin just don't like each other, but even if I have, it bears repeating: people from Cork don't like Dublin, and it's reciprocated. I've heard some compare Cork to Texas (it's big, in the south, they have weird accents, and they think they're the best), but I think the analogy is kind of lacking. Since I'm in Cork, I hear a lot more of that opinion. According to students at UCC who are from various counties in Ireland, not just Cork, Dublin thinks it's a cool metropolis like Paris or New York but "it's really not, like." (This is my best approximation of what someone in Cork would say. Just leave out the "h" in any word with a "th" - "tirty tousand," for example - and end sentences with "like" or sometimes "so" for no reason) So they think Dublin is pretentious. Apparently, everyone in Ireland outside of Dublin likes Cork more (so they tell me). But I feel like it also has something to do with the fact that Dublin was the seat of British rule for so long that it's not "really" Irish. You do sort of get the impression wandering around Dublin that it could be a city anywhere, if you ignore the terrible signs and general confusion of the streets, which are distinctly Irish. It seems to me - although no one has actually said as much - that this idea of real Irishness is part of the reason that Cork sees itself as the real capital. Anyway, the reason I mention this is because our cab driver insulted Cork and asked why I was there, not Dublin, which is after all THE CAPITAL. This is more evidence that I'm not just making it up!

On a totally unrelated note, I have decided that I will own a car in the future. Months of walking everywhere, usually in the rain, often getting splashed by cars zooming through puddles, and especially walking to class at 8:40 on a Friday morning in the pouring rain and getting splashed – which happens approximately once a week – will make anyone absolutely hate this form of transportation. I've learned there is a big difference between “the weather's nice, I think I'd like to take a walk” and being in Ireland.

The Aran Islands are a Gaeltacht, which means people speak Irish there as a first language. It was so cool to hear people my age speaking Irish casually, and not just to show off. Since I impressed Patrick with my Irish skills (no, he was definitely not just being nice since we hadn't paid him yet!), I thought you might want to know some easy and fun Irish for everyday use!

Also, I'm not good at spelling things phonetically so this might not be useful. And I don't really know Irish...

Hello – Dia dhuit (dee-ah hoo-it, with a guttural, German-sounding “h”), literally translates as “God be with you,” I think

Hello to you too – Dia agus muire dhuit (dee-ah ah-gus mur-ah hoo-it, same “h” sound). This one means, “God and Mary be with you.” Basically, you just add saints to the saying when you respond, like Pádraig (Patrick).

How are you? - Conas atá tú? (co-nus a-TA two)

I am good/well. - Táim go maith. (time goh ma)

Goodbye – Slán. (slawn, kind of...)

Cheers – Sláinte (sline-ta, or sline-chta, I think it might be a matter of dialect)

Thank you – Go raibh maith agat (go rev ma a-goat, very loosely).

And, most importantly: Tá sé ag cur báistí agus gaofar agus fhuar. (ta shay egg cur bah-sh-tee ah-gus gway-fur ah-gus four) – It is raining and windy and cold.

(Also, I saw three rainbows in a week - and two were double rainbows. And I had to pull out my terrible html for this entry because the image uploader completely fails, so if there are any problems they are my fault.)

UCC and the Ring of Kerry

So, it's been a while, hasn't it?

I apologize for the long delay. Ever since actual classes have started, I've been a lot busier. I've also paradoxically been doing less interesting things, so there isn't a whole lot to tell. But I will attempt to summarize the last month in the most interesting way possible.

As I mentioned, real classes have started here. Now, I use the term "real" very loosely, because although these classes technically exist they do not very much resemble college classes. However, I must admit that it's very difficult to be a good traveller and even attempt objectivity*. My own experience has narrowly been of the Philadelphia area, and basically every college seems weird in comparison to Swarthmore. So it's very difficult to separate the ways Ireland/Cork/UCC (University College Cork) are unique from the things that seem strange to me because of my weird background. For example: the lack of Mexican food makes Ireland very different from the US, but the lack of Jewish food only makes Ireland different from the Philadelphia area. So when it comes to UCC, I have difficulty deciding whether I dislike the Irish university system or whether I dislike most universities. It's probably a combination of both. There are some ways in which UCC and Irish "third level" (university) education are just kind of terrible. There are also some in which UCC is good, namely that it's basically free (however, I have heard various view points and find myself thinking that there are worse things than fees, and many of them can be found at UCC). But I am probably confusing you, so I will explain.

Right now, I am taking six modules in various fields: two English courses, "Literature and Modern Ireland" and "Contemporary Irish Literature;" a history course, "Northern Ireland;" an art history class, "Themes in Portraiture;" a Celtic Civilisation class, "The Mabinogi;" and spoken Irish. Irish - not Gaelic, the Irish word for the language is Gaeilge - is obviously a first year course, portaiture is a second year course, and all the rest are third year courses. Third year is basically senior year, since the arts program is only three years in Ireland. The only reason I am allowed to take these courses is because I am not Irish. If I were Irish, I would get to select courses in my year only (so all third year courses). Were it my first year, I could pick four fields to study. However, in your second and third years, you choose two of those four fields and that's all you study. It's incredibly restrictive.

Of course, if this were the only weird thing about UCC it wouldn't bother me too much since I'm exempt from this rule. What does annoy me is the size of classes. With the exception of fairly unpopular departments (art history & celtic civilisation, both of which are pretty new), classes are enormous. I mean English classes with 150+ students, and history classes with 100 people all writing papers on the same topic. I'm fairly sure this is due largely to the fact that UCC, with 17,000 students, is a big school, and that many big schools are like this. However, it's still unsatisfying for many reasons. For one, I want to be able to talk to my professors and ask questions about the course or for a paper extension. That definitely doesn't happen here. More importantly, these classes are just lectures, by their nature. So you basically get the teacher's interpretation of the painting/literature/historical event/whatever without any other input.

And I feel like they assume we are so dumb! In my poetry lecture today, our teacher told us that rain in poetry often represents tears. Seriously, anyone who is about to graduate college, having either majored or minored in English, should not have to be told something like that. Similarly, we never do any theoretical readings - which is weird, since we did more literary theory in high school. Instead, the drama lecturer goes on and on about the biographies of the writers, and tells us the plot and structure of the play. I asked an Irish girl in my class about this:
"I don't see why he spends so much of our class time talking about the background information. We have less than two hours of class a week as it is, and we never actually learn anything in lecture."
"Well," she replied, "Even if he required it, a lot of people probably wouldn't do the work anyway."
"But isn't everyone in third-level English an English major?"
"No, some people are only minors."

Anyway, I also have complaints about the computers on campus (which literally take ten minutes to log on) and the library, which is never open. It closes around 9pm on weeknights, is only open from 10:00-12:45 on Saturdays, and is completely closed on Sundays. And they don't have enough books for classes where 90 people have to research the same thing, so you have to use reserves - which is impossible, since the library's never open. It's amazing, because after a year of giving college tours I saw that people don't really care about their college library. It's not until I observed how annoying this library is that I realized you probably should care, a whole lot.
So, in summary: academically, I really do miss Swarthmore, and you can use this against me next semester when I am dying of work. Socially, I also kind of miss Swarthmore because
a) it's actually possible to sleep there, unlike in Ireland where students drink until 3 am every day of the week;
b) social events are free at Swat, versus everything being obscenely expensive in Ireland;
c) here, all of my friends live on the other side of the city, like 45 minutes or an hour walk away; and
d) all the Irish students go home on the weekends, leaving Cork pretty boring.
Big schools really do lack community. I hardly ever even see my flatmates (I have three Irish flatmates, who are very nice when I do see them). It's kind of a lonely setup, with all the commuters and people scattered all over the city, which perhaps explains why all of the societies are basically social groups/ways to find people to go drinking with. It's really different from the US. Most college social life does revolve in part around drinking, but it's especially true in Ireland, because you're allowed to legally and thus publicly drink.

With all of my complaining, you probably assume that I hate it here, but I think I'm just critical. I really like a lot of Irish people, who tend to be friendly and have a good (though somewhat mean) sense of humor. It's very easy to talk to people here. By far the most annoying people I've met have been Americans. Cork is a cute and nice city, although the lack of reasonable public trans and being without a car makes it harder to enjoy. Even my classes, despite their problems, are generally interesting, and Irish at least is fun. And thanks to globalization, in places where Irish culture fails to meet my expectations (e.g. coffee, peanut butter, television) I can enjoy the much better Americanized versions. Seriously though, Irish coffee is bad. And Irish students have a surprisingly rich knowledge of American TV, because their shows are not good. Ireland is pretty, and people generally take themselves less seriously, and I'm sure I'll miss it when I'm gone.

That would be a good place to end my entry, but luckily for you, I actually did something interesting last weekend!

Last weekend (October 16-18) I went on an optional trip for international students to the Ring of Kerry. I'd heard a lot about how beautiful it was, and I wasn't disappointed. On Friday afternoon, we drove up to Cahersiveen, on the Iveragh peninsula (which is called the "Ring of Kerry," since it's in County Kerry). The first night we spent in our awesome hotel, eating a delicious three-course meal and then listening to a speaker talk about life in South Kerry. It was actually a little depressing. Most young people go to university now and then never come back, since there isn't really much employment in such a rural and undeveloped area. They're 50 miles away from hospitals and cinemas (movie theaters), which are in Killarney. The only thing they really have is Gaelic football, which they are the undisputed champions of. But more about that later. After that, we had a céilí (pronounced kay-lee) dancing class. Since I took folk dance for a year I actually remembered quite a lot and had fun.

On Saturday, we drove around the Ring of Kerry. My pictures are really a better narrative than anything I could write, but in short: we drove to Valentia Island, looked at the skelligs, climbed a mountain, visited a slate mine, went to the Skellig Experience Centre (a museum), drove past towns and a chocolate factory, walked on a beach with a castle, and then returned to our hotel. We ate lunch at the hotel, then had some free time. While others watched Jurassic Park and napped, we explored Cahersiveen, did some souvenir shopping, and walked along the bay/lakes and fields. After dinner, there was a talk by some Gaelic football players, two guys who won the championships in their respective leagues and an older man who's a famous player and now coaches. It's an interesting sport, but not really like soccer. You can catch and throw the ball, but you can only hold it for three steps before you have to either "solo" it (kick it back to yourself) or pass it on. And of course it's a lot more violent too. I think it's an official rule of the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association, which runs all the Irish sports) that the games have to be more violent than their more mainstream counterparts. Also, it's kind of like American football in that they have a sort of "field goal" that's worth 1 point and then a net (like a soccer net) that's worth three. After we heard them talk and watched parts of matches, we had a "table quiz," which is a big thing in Ireland. It's basically quizzo (for the Haverford people) or group Trivial Pursuit. However, there were way too many random questions about Ireland and sports, so the team made up of the Irish athletes obviously beat us all.

Sunday was somewhat rainy, unfortunately. We walked through Cahersiveen and some pretty rural places for about an hour and a half to see the stone forts outside the town. After that, we completed the Ring of Kerry, mostly staying inside because of the weather. We were supposed to stop in Sneem but only drove through the town; the same thing happened at Moll's Gap, a very beautiful view of Killarney National Park. Our main stop was Derrynane House, where Daniel O'Connell lived. Finally we headed back and arrived in Cork around 6:30.

I'll try to update more frequently, but I can't make any promises. I hope you're all doing well! I miss you lots, of course. By the way, I'm now coming back on the 16th of December! So if you want to see me before the end of January, it might be possible. Let me know!
*(Probably will only interest Swatties: Have no fear; I never harbored such notions. Humanities majors don't believe in objectivity, and my post-colonial literature class has made me so wary of travel narratives that even as I write this blog I think, "Am I unconsciously directing an imperial gaze at Ireland?")

If you thought the Kennedys were popular in the US...

... you should visit Ireland. Everyone loves Ted Kennedy, and JFK's visit to the Michael Collins Barracks in Cork was featured more prominently in the museum than the Michael Collins stuff. And they have Kennedy curse conspiracy shows on TV.

My photos are now online. Check them out at my website. They'll probably make more sense if you read this entry first, though.

So, I've officially been in Ireland for a month now. It simultaneously feels as if I've been here for much longer and as though I've just arrived. The strangest thing is that my Early Start Semester class, which I haven't even explained to you, ended today. But more about that later!

First, I have to apologize for my long absence, and for the subsequently long post. As some of you already know, my computer decided to stop functioning the first week I was here. After trips to the only Apple service provider in Cork (despite being the headquarters of Apple Europe, there is not a single Apple Store in Cork - or in Ireland at all) and multiple calls to Apple Europe, I learned a valuable lesson - sometimes not being in America sucks. Essentially, the problem cannot be fixed in Ireland because they don't offer the same level of technical support here. I'm going to ship it back to the US and take care of the problem that way, but it's still incredibly annoying. It's also a good reminder of how lucky we are in the US, even by the standards of first-world countries. America is so culturally dominant that we take things like Apple Stores, US television programming, and companies primarily run in the US, for US consumers, for granted. In Ireland, the small amount of (frankly pretty bad) Irish TV is overwhelmed by reruns of American and British shows, and many of the stores like Tesco are based in the UK and see Ireland as only a secondary market. There are advantages and disadvantages to this, but living in such a small country is surprisingly different. That being said, Ireland likes to assert its independence internationally, for example through its neutrality during WWII. It is currently following in this tradition by exercising its veto in the EU over the Lisbon Treaty, which has been approved by every other EU member state. Ireland requires its citizens vote in a referendum for EU changes, and the voters rejected the treaty last year. It goes up for a vote again on October 2nd, so various political parties are papering the city with "yes" and "no" posters. Even more importantly, Cork (or Corcaigh, the Irish spelling) is beginning to be plastered in banners and Cork flags for the upcoming all-Ireland football finals, in which it is participating this weekend. That should be interesting to see.

So, what is it exactly that I've been doing this last month? The most interesting and important part was the Early Start Semester class on Modern Irish History: The Challenge of Democracy in 20th-century Ireland. The Irish university system is completely different, and their fall "semester" (they don't actually have semesters at all - all their exams are held in May, and many classes last the full year) is fairly short so the ESS makes your time at UCC somewhat equivalent to a semester at an American university. The class was four weeks, from 9:15-12:45 Monday through Friday, and attempted to cover the most important periods of modern Irish history: the War of Independence, the Troubles, and the peace process. Personally, I found the content incredibly interesting. Also, our teacher Gabriel Doherty (note: they aren't professors here - only heads of departments and such important senior people get that title) is very nice and hilarious. For example, he insisted we have questions for people who came to speak to our class. "If you don't, you'll embarrass me, and I'll have to bloody well kill you! No, I'll just fail you all on your essays and exams instead." Also, he kindly lent me money for my coffee in the cafeteria one day when I didn't have enough, a common occurrence in Ireland where everything is way too expensive. The content of the course is fascinating and has interesting implications for how we should approach peace processes around the world. Also, we watched one of my favorite movies, The Wind That Shakes the Barley, and had a talk with the historical adviser for the film, Donal Ò Drisceoil, who is also a lecturer at UCC. But by far the best aspect of the class is field trips! The first was just around Cork City, visiting the old British barracks, now the Michael Collins Barracks, which contains a museum, and the Cork Gaol (jail), which has also been transformed into a rather strange museum. The second trip was around County Cork, which is the largest county in Ireland and quite picturesque. Our first stop was Beal na mBlath, the site of Michael Collins' assassination. Now, I get lost everywhere I go in Ireland, which is rather disconcerting as I'd always thought I had a decent-to-good sense of direction. So I was very glad to see our teacher, who has been to Beal na mBlath more than a dozen times, get lost twice on the way. This is because nothing is marked here, and most of Ireland consists of incredibly windy and narrow back roads. Many of these narrow roads have high hedges on either side, so it was quite an experience trying to get a bus through when there was opposing traffic - there was much driving off the road. In any case, there was good reason for getting lost. Apparently, every time they put up a sign with "Beal na mBlath" on it, someone instantly steals it, so they just stopped trying. After, we went to Clonakilty, a cute Irish town where Collins went to school and was basically raised. There was a tasty lunch and then we walked around the town, which looks a lot like my conception of the stereotypical Irish town (in a good way). Our final stop was Collins' birthplace. It was a pretty but boring site, as the British burned down his family home twice so it was really just ruins in the middle of the countryside (as is 95% of Ireland - countryside, not ruins, although a ridiculous amount of Ireland was burned or bombed in the last century. For example, the British burned down Cork city centre & city hall so it's relatively new).

Our third and final field trip was by far the coolest, though. Last Wednesday, we departed at 6:30 am for Dublin. After a bus trip through some lovely countryside and mountains, we arrived in Dublin at about 10:30. We went to the National Museum, which has an exhibit on the 1916 Easter Rising. They had some really interesting stuff. There was a letter from one of the leaders right before his execution that was really touching and oddly farsighted about the historical impact of the event. Also, they had an illuminated manuscript in traditional Celtic style that the Irish Free State government commissioned in the 1930s to celebrate the Rising that was AMAZING. It took the artist about a year to do each page; that's how complex the designs were. I could look at them for hours. We wandered around the museum for a while and returned to the hostel where we were staying. Several of us went to lunch in a pub that received a James Joyce Award for being the sort of place you might find in Joyce's Dublin, and peopled with Joycean characters. I'm still not sure that's a compliment, but it was a nice meal regardless. Our class then went to the Department of Foreign Affairs for a briefing on the Northern Ireland peace process with some government guy. Next the class went to dinner at the Bad Ass Cafe in Temple Bar (sort of the main touristy drinking area in Dublin) and from there headed over to the Abbey Theatre. The Abbey is the national theatre of Ireland, famous for its role in Irish cultural history (Yeats was one of the playwrights who was very involved there). We saw a production of The Rivals, which had nothing to do with our class but was enjoyable.

On Thursday, we went to Kilmainham Gaol as a class in the morning and had a tour. Kilmainham was where many political prisoners were kept during the 1916 Rising and then the Civil War. As a result, there's a lot of original political graffiti and you can see the cells previously inhabited by people like Eamon de Valera (Republican and Taoiseach/Prime Minister for a ridiculously long time), Padraig Pearse, & Parnell. It's a sad but moving place. Afterwards, we had about four hours of free time. Some of us ate lunch and then went on a tour of the Jameson Whiskey Distillery, learning about the whiskey-making process and being brainwashed to prefer Jameson in the process. At 4:00 we headed to Belfast, about three hours away. The border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, which is part of the UK, is basically non-existent. There isn't even a sign on the road to declare that you are now in another country; you only know you've crossed an international boundary because you get a text message from your cell phone provider informing you that they're about to charge you more money. The landscape around the border is beautiful and hilly, but you can see how hopeless it was for the army to try to seal the border against IRA movement. Speaking of which, NI is very safe now - Belfast ranked as the second safest city in the world, right behind Tokyo, but violence is still a threat. Just that Tuesday (two days before we crossed the border), a 600lb bomb was discovered on the border. Obviously nothing bad happened, but it serves as a reminder that the peace process still hasn't solved all the problems in Ireland.

We spent all of Friday in Belfast, beginning the morning with a visit to the Northern Ireland parliament at Stormont. First we had a briefing with Alex Attwood, an MLA (Member Legislative Assembly) of the SDLP (Social Democratic and Labour Party), the moderate Catholic/nationalist party in NI. (If you want, I could go on for a long time giving you the relevant background about the historical events and current politics in Northern Ireland, but that would most likely bore you. If you do have questions though, ask!) He's actually a very prominent member of the party, so it was kind of cool to hear him talk about the peace process. Then we got an official tour of Stormont, which I learned isn't open to the public, and sat in the seats of the MLAs (with my luck, I probably sat where someone really creepy like Ian Paisley is seated - I think I was sitting in the DUP section). We had free time afterwards, so I wandered around Belfast with my friend Diana. The city is beautiful and a strange mix between very old and very new, as real development and investment has only occurred in the last decade after the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement. We went on a bus tour of the city, which has an interesting history, as it is the birthplace of the Titanic, C.S. Lewis, & Van Morrison. Then we went to look at murals. A brief history is required here: to put it far too simply, the whole problem with Northern Ireland and the conflict behind the Troubles is that there is a majority (about 60%) of Protestants from a primarily Anglo-Scot background who felt/feel like they were/are British, and didn't want to be part of an independent Ireland - thus they called themselves Unionists. On the other side were a large minority of primarily Catholic nationalists, who wanted to be part of Ireland since they viewed themselves as Irish. The Unionists completely controlled government from 1920 (the creation of Northern Ireland) through the 1960s and basically oppressed the poorer Catholic minority in a variety of ways. Inspired by the Civil Rights Movement in America, Catholics took up a non-violent campaign of protests which morphed into the Troubles. Long story short, NI Catholics and Protestants realllly don't like each other, which was only exacerbated by the fact that they were killing each other for twenty years. The two communities are physically isolated and send their children to different schools, etc (so you can see where the whole peace process thing didn't solve all the problems). In Belfast, the city centre is a neutral zone. However, the surrounding areas - particularly the working-class communities of Shankill Road (Protestant) and Falls Road (Catholic) - are anything but neutral. These communities are known for their murals, which depict their opposing positions in ways that range from nice to fairly terrifying. Just to give you an idea, our teacher told us that we would be fine, but we shouldn't wear anything with shamrocks or a Boston Celtics t-shirt unless we wanted to start something. Also, he half-jokingly said that he couldn't go anywhere, as he is British and so the nationalists hate him (although he is of Irish descent, he was born in England and has an accent) and he is Catholic so the unionists hate him. Look at my pictures to get a better idea of what the neighborhoods are like. It's just amazing how British Shankill Road is and how Irish Falls Road is. And although they are the best known places, there are murals and flags all over Belfast. Anyway, it was completely fascinating. We headed back the next day on a pleasant six-hour bus ride (hey, I like traveling!).

Other than classes, I haven't been doing a whole lot. I was sick already, which meant that I was confined to my room without a computer or internet. On the plus side, I've read quite a bit as I lacked anything better to do. I've managed to finish Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway, Eugenides' Middlesex, some history books, and the fantasy novel from Amber (thanks!). Right now I'm reading Pynchon's V, which is a lot more interesting than I'd anticipated. There's a government department devoted to killing sewer-dwelling albino alligators - how could that not be awesome? I'm also becoming a much better cook, using the cookbook from Jeeyeon, and have made some really tasty foods. I haven't eaten too much actual Irish food, since it's really expensive, but it seems better than the stuff I ate in Belfast. I'm definitely blaming the English influence for that! I've gone out at night a few times with friends. Cork has an absolutely ridiculous number of pubs - I'm estimating about a quarter of the city's economy is generated by them - which means they come in a really wide range of themes. There are pubs that specialize in traditional Irish music sessions, some that are set up like monasteries (or something), and others that are more clearly aimed at university students of an assortment of social groups - basically, anything you can imagine. There are also a handful of nightclubs. Technically, nightclubs are supposed to be 21+, or so I've heard. It's kind of difficult to know for sure because you are very rarely carded in Ireland, North or South. Generally, you just walk through the door. A "higher" level of security involves the bouncer asking you "are you 18/21?" (When I went to one with a short friend in Belfast - we really needed a bathroom - he asked, "Are you 21? Even the short one?") Some pubs do actually card, but usually you only see people getting carded if they are acting obnoxiously drunk.

Also, I know I told you about the crazy Irish people I sat next to on the plane, and now you've heard about the Troubles and are probably thinking, "These people are all crazy! Why does everyone hate everybody?" So I must tell you that most Irish people are very nice. For example, in Belfast we visited St. Peter's Cathedral on Falls Road and were detained by a kind elderly Irish man who wanted to tell us all about Ireland (and claimed that he loved American accents, how bizarre is that?). But the best story is when I went to the post office. I had to pick up my new laptop from the post office because I owed €95 in customs (thanks to a certain person for making me pay that...) so they didn't deliver it to my dorm. Unfortunately, the stupid delivery center is in a suburb of Cork, not on any bus line nearby, so I needed to take a taxi to get there. I stopped to get €100 for the week, as I needed money to pay for the taxi (I'd just returned from Northern Ireland and so had British sterling, but no more euros). The taxi was €8. But as I went to pick up my package, I took out my credit card and the worker said, "Sorry, we only take cash." He sounded genuinely sorry, though. I had just enough money to pay for the package, but not enough to pay for a taxi back. I asked him for directions to a bus stop, which was somewhere confusing about ten minutes away, and he wasn't sure which buses went there. My situation was looking pretty bad now - I had to get an enormous package back to my dorm with about €2 and no idea of where I actually was. However, the man behind me in line said, "I'm heading back to Cork. I can take you. Where do you need to go?" I told him where, and he offered to give me a ride although it wasn't where he was heading. I learned that he has a relative in Philadelphia who left Ireland after he found out the British were going to kill him for working with the IRA during the War of Independence. So, there are super-nice Irish people who will be late to work (he said it didn't matter anyway, and knowing Ireland it probably didn't) and go out of their way to give you a ride just to "do their good deed for the day."

Also: have I complained adequately about the euro? What kind of currency needs eight different coins? None! They have 1, 2, 5, 10, 20 & 50 cent pieces, as well as €1 & €2 coins (and no €1 bills, which completely confused me at first). Believe me, that change adds up quickly and before you know it your wallet weighs 10 pounds and contains about €15 in coins, which you promptly have to use for necessities like bus fares and scones. And the exchange rate...

The weather was incredibly sunny and fairly warm this last week. Everywhere we went, people would tell us how this was the "best weather in three years." Considering how everyone produced the same time, I don't doubt it. So for once, I can't do the Irish thing and complain about the weather.

Where the Streets Have No Name

(This is actually my second update; look below for the first part)

Greetings from Cork! A lot has happened this week, so I'll try to be brief.

On Tuesday, to stave off jet-lagged exhaustion, I decided to go for a walk around Dublin with the tentative end destination of the National Gallery. Some of the paintings sounded excellent, but I wasn't sure how much I could actually appreciate a museum while so tired. I never got the chance, though, because I was lost after walking for ten minutes or so. In Ireland, they don't label anything. If an address actually contains a street number, which isn't guaranteed, chances are that none of the buildings have physical numbers on the outside so you can't find it anyway. More likely, you'll just get the name of a street and have to find the building yourself. But good luck finding the street - they aren't labeled half the time. Worse, street signs are stuck seemingly randomly on the sides of buildings at intersections, and it's almost impossible to figure out which street you're on. Cork is even more confusing because they have a bunch of streets called "quays" that aren't near water at all; apparently, Cork used to be a city filled with canals until they decided to pave them over years ago, so the streets are incredibly windy and not well planned.

Anyway, even with a detailed map of Dublin it took me about an hour to find my way back to the hostel. Once there, I had to wait until they cleaned my room and then I took a four hour nap. I woke up around 4:30, so it was too late to visit most of the touristy sights. The National Library is open late, until about 9 pm, so I walked there and managed to not get lost. They had an excellent exhibit on Yeats with tons of original manuscripts, readings of his poetry, and displays of cool artifacts like the instrument designed for him to use while he read his poetry, journals filled with his crazy mystic ideas, family photo albums, and a tapestry designed by his sister for "The Lake Isle of Innisfree." Afterward, I walked through Dublin a bit more, ate by the river, and then went back to my hostel and slept more.

On Wednesday I hoped to go around Dublin a bit more, but with all my luggage and everything I decided just to head to the train station. It took me a long time to find the tram (basically a trolley) to Heuston Station. The girl I sat next to was very friendly and showed me where to buy my ticket at the station and also carried one of my bags. After a long process at the train station of trying to buy cheaper tickets, I finally was on the way to Cork! The train ride was fairly long but I got to see a lot of Irish countryside on the way. It was very pretty, even more so when I saw my first bit of sunshine in Ireland! I arrived in Cork around 3 pm, then took a bus to my dorm. Public transportation and luggage, especially when you're not especially sure you're going the right way, are not the best combination.

A little bit about Cork - it is a great city! Dublin was fine, but it seemed a lot like you would expect any city to be. Of course, I was pretty jetlagged at the time, so hopefully I'll enjoy it more when I return. But Cork is wonderful. First, there is actual sunlight here! Sure, it rains half the time when it is sunny but I did get to see a really spectacular rainbow. The streets wind all over, there are wide sidewalks and cobblestone walkways for pedestrians in the shopping district, and it is so cozy it almost feels like it isn't a city at all. It definitely is a city, because it has all the culture, amenities, and fleets of taxis, but some of the neighborhoods are very residential and seem a lot like east coast suburbs. Part of this is probably due to the fact that right outside of the city, it is countryside. The hills that border Cork are covered in the patchwork green of farms, and the area seems pretty sparsely populated. As strange as this is to me, it is kind of nice. Most stores in Cork shut down early, around five or six, but the city is amazingly busy at night with tons of pubs, nightclubs, cafes and small take away restaurants.

I spent a lot of Wednesday and Thursday going around Cork, getting used to the double decker buses (the only form of public trans here) and exploring the various shopping areas as I attempted to fill my empty apartment. My room is pretty big, with a double bed and a spacious closet area. I also have my own bathroom, which is amazing. The apartment is for five students, and I only have one roommate so far. It will kind of suck to have people moving in after we've established a routine, but we might get some Irish students, which would be cool (especially if they can drive - grocery shopping using buses is not fun). Still, I am pretty happy with my apartment and will definitely be sad to return to the dorms at Swarthmore.

Friday was the day of the program orientation. The actual orientation part was pretty dull, as we just sat in a lecture hall and listened to information, half of which we already knew. Luckily the evening was more exciting. The UCC student council gave campus tours, which were interesting but not too helpful for actually finding your way around (this seems to be a common theme in navigating Ireland). I have never seen a college with greener grass. We heard all sorts of stories and legends about UCC, a lot of which were about Republican students (those who wanted an independent Ireland, not to be confused with US Republicans) destroying various parts of campus that symbolized England (as the school was built by Queen Victoria). Next, we went to the student council building for tea, coffee, and biscuits (in Ireland, cookies, not the rolls) and to socialize a bit. We walked to a movie theater nearby and got to see I Love You, Beth Cooper for free (plus free snacks). Movies in Ireland all seem to be a few months behind. After that, we went to a pub for free bowling, karaoke, and snooker (or pool - hilariously, the student council vp Ian honestly thought that Americans called it snooker, not pool). The karaoke was really fun. Then, they took us to a nightclub, but the techno music got pretty old. Some of us walked back at around 1 am, and it only took us about 30 minutes, at a slow pace, to get from the city center to our dorms. Afterwards, I hung out with some of the international students. Overall, it was a pretty fun, although very long, day.

More about Ireland: Think of early November. It is getting colder, and it is very gray and rainy. This is a lot like Irish weather, except year-round. Although it is August here, their summer, everyone wears sweaters and jackets, or at least long-sleeved shirts. I have seen very few t-shirts. Shorts are basically non-existent. The temperature has been in the low 60s all week, and when combined with rain and particularly the wind in Cork, it seems really cold. It's not too bad right now, as there is some sun in Cork and it just feels a lot like autumn. I am a bit worried about winter, which is the rainy season...

I hope you are all enjoying yourselves back in the warm Philly weather. I miss you all,

Julia

Welcome to Ireland

I am writing this entry from a hostel in Dublin after about two hours in Ireland. The weather is, shockingly, rainy, and it's rather chilly too - a high of about 64 degrees, versus 94 in Philly.

My journey to Ireland was pretty stressful since I had never left the US, traveled anywhere alone, or been on a plane alone. In fact, my plane experience was limited to a high school orchestra trip where the parents and teachers did everything, so essentially I had no idea what was going on. Impressively, I managed to avoid any major mistakes when boarding the plane and I was actually beginning to think that this whole process would be easy. I learned the error of my ways shortly after, when despite my efforts I could not work the video player. Then, I failed to learn how to recline my chair. Don't even ask. Anyway, that turned out to be for the best because the older Irish woman seated next to me and a muscular Irish man sitting behind her got into a fight because she wanted to recline her chair and he kept shoving it back upright. Then, the flight attendant (also Irish) yelled at them and told them to act like adults. (As much as tourists emphasize the Irish friendliness, it seems like the Irish temper cannot be ignored.) Afterwards, the man switched seats so that he was behind me, so I guess it's good that I couldn't figure out where the lever was.

The plane flight was otherwise as good as six hours in a confined space could be. As I was leaving JFK Airport I had a great view of NYC and of the Atlantic. Looking over the ocean from a low altitude, I saw a lot of white splashes and gray shapes, which I realized were probably sharks after seeing hours of similar footage on Shark Week. It was pretty scary but also amazing. The view from the plane was great at sunset and also when they turned the lights off at around 10pm. Since we were over the Atlantic, it was pitch black and you could see the stars incredibly clearly. The plane food was surprisingly good and we got to Dublin a bit early.

The long immigration line and the part where I couldn't find the baggage claim aren't very interesting. I finally had all my things together and I was ready to leave the airport, but I was completely parched after the 3 oz servings of water they give you on the plane. Spotting a soda machine, I thought it would be easy enough to get a drink. But no! The machine did not have a slot for paper bills. It took me several minutes to realize that you are supposed to use the €1 coins. After that, I tried to get a drink but it said everything was unavailable, even though you could see through the glass that they had the soda. Finally, I got a Fanta and some change. I promptly dropped the Fanta (it had a very oddly shaped bottle!) so that when I opened it, it sprayed all over me. And the worst part was that after all that work, it wasn't even cold!

Also, did I mention that it is raining?

It's not exactly an auspicious start, I admit, but it'll make the inevitable future mistakes seem a lot less stupid. Besides, it could've been worse - the plane might've crashed over the Atlantic and I would've slowly died of hypothermia before sharks ripped me apart. Anyway, I'm sure it will be very exciting once I get an opportunity to nap or sleep. Until then, I will attempt to entertain you with my terrible and completely unfounded observations about Ireland. I've only been here for three hours, so don't expect anything profound or accurate.

So far, the strangest things about Ireland are:

The Euro - they have €1 coins and €2 coins, and people actually use them! Plus all the denominations of paper money are different sizes, which means the more valuable ones don't really fit in my wallet. Euros aren't really bad, but they do annoy me because all my money is now automatically 1/3 less valuable.

Junk food - I'll admit this is based on extremely limited observation, but it appears that Ireland has a Pringles obsession. They sold the little cans on the plane for €2 (which seems ridiculous) and there is a vending machine exclusively for Pringles in the hostel. Weird, right? But it's even stranger when you consider that Ireland is supposedly known for its potatoes, and Pringles suck.
Also, there is a lot of Fanta. It seems rather popular.
What keeps confusing me, though, is how different soda bottles and candy wrappers look here, even when they are for a product like 7-up or Kit-Kats that you can get in the US.

CNN - with British accents, and cricket, but scarily similar otherwise.

Humorous image of the day: The Irish hipster sitting in front of me who watched 17 Again (the movie with Zac Efron). Also, the girl (I think she was American) who was drinking Guinness when the flight attendants handed out the breakfast orange juice.