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.)