Day Twenty-Six

Sunday, July 19th, 2009

It all began as an innocent Sunday morning. I woke up, got dressed, and lazed about the apartment. Anyone observing would think it would be an average, ordinary day just like any other.

Oh, how very wrong they were.

At around 1:30, myself and my friends Scott and Nate walked into town to get a traditional Irish breakfast. And by “traditional Irish breakfast”, I basically mean a plate stuffed full of hot delicious food. We waged war against the food, shoveling it down as fast as we could. But, in the end, the food won.

Just as we were leaving the restaurant to go waste time in a shopping center, it started down pouring, so we got completely soaked…which is always fun. Which is, I’m sure, exactly how the two boys felt about going shopping (but I really needed a cardigan.)

After wasting an appropriate amount of time and money, I parted ways and headed over to the Macnas headquarters at Fisheries Field. I was called at four to prepare makeup and everything for the performers who would start coming in at five. I was a bit hesitant about doing makeup since I had absolutely no idea what we were going to be doing and only my Stage Makeup class experience to back me up.

You know in the movie Twister when it gets eerily still and quiet right before the giant F5 tornado sweeps in an destroys everything? That’s pretty much how the room felt as all the makeup artists milled about while waiting for the first called performers. The makeup and brushes were laid out in perfect order and a hush had fallen over everyone as they were lost in their own thoughts or studying the design charts for the thirtieth time (me).

Then suddenly…the tornado hit.

Thirty-three loud, obnoxious teenagers came tearing into the room. Each had to be made up with a white base, then move on to the details stations (where I was) to get kabuki-inspired makeup applied. There was no set design so we were free to experiment within reason. I got only boys, who when asked if they had any ideas, merely shrugged and left me with nothing.

Next came another group of thirty-odd teenagers. They required a pale white base before coming to me and the other makeup artists to get Bacchae-esque stripes of red and black. We were now a good hour and a half in to the makeup process when the designer asked if anyone was willing to take on a special project. I, never wanting to pass up an opportunity, immediately volunteered.

It turned out I was going to be doing the character Pan’s makeup. Full body makeup from the waist up. And let me tell you…man was ripped with a capital R.

After a few seconds of staring in shock and possibly even drooling a little, I looked at the iridescent green makeup in my hand, my tiny brush, his torso, and may have died and gone to heaven. So let this be a lesson to you kiddies: Never. Pass. Up. An. Opportunity.

About forty-five minutes later as I was covering his last arm with makeup, the Shoal of Fish showed up. I (sadly) finished off with Pan and then went to help with their makeup, which was metallic silver on the whole face and then covered with glitter. I was the last to get my makeup done, then ran to change into my fish/Buzz Lightyear costume.

There was a small fish snafu that involved me trading Abbie a ukulele for her fish (don’t ask…seriously), but we were soon headed down to the Claddagh where we would await “backstage” until moving into our positions for the start of the parade. People came out from bars and cheered us as we walked past, snapping photos and lifting little children up to see.

After waiting for about a half an hour, we were finally given the signal to cross the bridge and assume our position in front of Orpheus himself near the Spanish Arch. Orpheus was this giant metal contraption that moved and made fire. With the crowd listening to a band dressed up in the style of the Tiger Lilies (yay DK!), we waited for Orpheus to “wake up”. Once he did, creaking as he raised to his full height, we were off.

I admit, I experienced a little bit of shock in the first few moments of the parade. There were literally 50,000 screaming and cheering people lining the streets of Galway, and here I was with silver paint on my face, a piece of glitter in my eye, and a giant tin fish on a pole in my hands. I realized at that moment, I had two choices: Be scared and stick to the clump of fish, or engage the crowd and get into it.

I got into it.

We would occasionally do our “routine” we practiced as a group, but my favorite thing to do was to swoop my fish down on members of the crowd, especially little children (they eat that stuff up). We paraded up and down the streets, laughing, dancing, doing our routine, and diving our fish over the crowd.

It all led to a huge climactic ending. Orpheus, having finally found his Eurydice, stood elevated from the crowd as a choir sang behind them in the dramatic backdrop of the Galway Cathedral. Meanwhile, the Fish, the Windsocks, and all of Orpheus’s little clown children danced about madly in the street in a huge celebration.

The music swelled…and all of a sudden there was confetti. Red strips of confetti blew out onto the crowd at the climactic moment of the parade. Looking up (still holding my fish, of course) and seeing the confetti rain down on the crowd, I decided I had to either be dreaming or in the ending scene of some epic movie. Looking back, I’m still not sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Being in the parade was, without a doubt, the most amazing, life-affirming thing I have ever done. Just the sheer ridiculousness of it all makes it amazing, but the fact that the people loved and adored every second of it made it just that much more cool. I have one memory that will stay with me as long as I live: Somewhere along the parade route, there was a little girl sitting on her father’s shoulders somewhat deep in the crowd. I could see her excitement at the spectacle but also the disappointment that all the kids in front were getting attention from the performers. So I slowly crept up to the crowd barricade, and since I had a very long pole, brought my fish over the heads of the crowd to her.

The look of joy and wonder on her face as she reached up to touch the fish reminded me that; despite the whining and complaining, the late nights, the chaos, the stress, the tears, the fights, the anxiety, and the general overwhelming nature; that this, this was why I do theatre. Because, in an instant, you can change someone’s life.

Even if it’s just for one night.

Day Twenty-Five

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Saturday morning cloudy and looked like it was threatening rain. This, however, didn’t deter Abbie and I from walking downtown to explore the magic of the Saturday Market. Having been told the wonders of the market by my friend, Barratt, who was here last semester, I was more than a little anxious to discover what was offered.

The Saturday Market is held in a small alleyway off of Shop Street by St. Nicholas’ Church. There is literally about five feet of space between the vendors on every side, and it was absolutely packed by the time we got there. There were vendors selling woolen hats, wooden necklaces, Connemara jewelry, fresh fruit and vegetables, flowers, crepes, oysters, and—my personal favorite—freshly fried donuts.

We took our time browsing, buying gifts for family members and ourselves. I was overjoyed upon finding the donut man, since Barratt had said nothing but good things about these fresh donuts covered in sugar and cinnamon. And indeed, they were a little slice (or ring) from heaven. They literally melted in your mouth and I am absolutely not ashamed to say that I ate two.

Walking further down the market, we found a local frame maker who was selling paintings and prints. His name was Peter, and though not an artist himself, he builds the brightly-colored wooden frames and offered us a deal of two framed prints for 40 Euro. Abbie and I, being Abbie and I, were quick to take up on it and selected our prints. I don’t remember what Abbie bought, but I selected a van Gogh-esque print of the cityscape at night and a print of an oil painting of a sheep. Yes, a wooly sheep. Don’t judge me.

After our time at the market, we went into Finnegan’s to get brunch…and both decided to get pizza and a Guinness. I wasn’t watching my time very well and had to gulp down my meal in order to get to a concert I had to see for my music class. I wasn’t very excited for it since I was under the impression that it was only going to be a concertina player (it’s kind of a less-impressive accordion). But there was actually a full band and they were pretty good. Plus, Caoilfhionn was there and actually knew some of the band members.

After the concert (which I should actually be writing about now instead of updating this blog), Caoilfhionn and I grabbed a cup of tea since we only had about an hour until parade rehearsal. At the parade rehearsal, we walked the route of the parade and did a quick review of our “choreography” before I headed home to rest after a long day.

Next stop: Macnas Parade ‘09

Day Twenty-Two—Twenty-Four

Wednesday, July 15th, 2009 — Friday, July 17th 2009

Wednesday began with the third installment of the “film festival” our directors are holding (we watch a different movie each week). This week, the film was Hunger a movie chronicling the hunger strikes in Northern Ireland in the 1980s by Bobby Sands et all. To say the film was disturbing and mildly traumatizing would be an understatement. But I couldn’t let it get to me, since I had to quickly finish up a few pieces of homework on my break between the movie and the dreaded Music Class.

After the Music Class of Doom, we made dinner, then at 8:15 my household left to meet Caoilfhionn at the cathedral for our Parade Rehearsal. She walked us to Fisheries Field, where on one side there was a large field with the Galway Arts Festival Big Top being set up, and on the other was a row of workshops belonging to Macnas. As we passed the buildings, we could see large, metal shapes looming from doorways, and as we entered the main room, we saw a woman putter paper maché on what looked like a giant wicker-framed rabbit.

We filled out all necessary paperwork and were then told that we were going to be part of the Shoal of Fish and were given large aluminum fish with CD eyes on the ends of long poles to carry about. It was about this time that the Artistic Director, Noeline, came in and took us outside for our “rehearsal”. Believe me, I’ve met my fair share of crazy and eccentric theatre people in my day…but I think she takes the cake. I don’t know how she was so high-energy under all the stress and chaos she must have been facing, but she pumped us up and thought up a routine for us to do with our fish and called us back for another rehearsal on Saturday to walk the parade route.

(P.S. We totally forced Caoilfhionn to participate even though she was very hesitant about it. So for any Irish people reading this blog who might know her, CAOILFHIONN WAS IN THE PARADE.)

While we were being fitted for our costumes (black shirts with plastic things that I think were supposed to represent gills but really looked like something out of Buzz Lightyear: Star Command), they asked if there were any volunteers to come to a meeting the next day and learn how to do the makeup for the group. Not wanting to ever pass up an opportunity and feeling very high and mighty about my extensive background of one makeup class, I volunteered.

…which I immediately regretted doing the next night when I was forced to go directly from my music class to the meeting, skipping dinner. Under the impression that I and my Canadian friend Courtney would just be learning the makeup for the Fish, I was a little intimidated when they said that I’d pretty much be doing the makeup for everyone…all 200 people or so. I left the meeting feeling dazed and confused (though slightly excited by the technique of using a loose-woven strip of muslin and spirit-gumming it in pleats to a person’s eyebrow to create really awesome eyebrows). Tired and hungry, I decided to make the sacrifice and stay in Thursday night.

Friday afternoon had us seeing our first play for the theatre class: Palace of the End written by Judith Thompson. It was a testimony about the Iraq war (and war in general) given in roughly 30 minute monologues by characters of real people: Lindy England, David Kelly, and an Iraqi woman who was married to the leader of the Communist party at the rise of Saddam and who eventually turned out to be a ghost. I thought it was brilliant and absolutely loved it. It was some of the best writing and acting I have seen in a long, long time.

Friday evening I met up at the College Bar (yes, this college has a bar on campus) with a group of people and then moved to the Crane, where a guy named Baby Gramps was strumming on his guitar (he was hilarious). We then went to the Roisin Dubh before most of us got tired of the hot, crowded, and loud atmosphere and decided it was as good of a time as any to head home.

Day Twenty-One

Tuesday, July 14th, 2009

Tuesday during my drama class, our professor Caoilfhionn (pronounced something like Kway-leen…she’s super awesome) told us the amazing news that we would possibly have the chance to be a part of the Macnas parade for the Galway Arts Festival. Apparently she had made some calls and pulled a few strings to give the class the opportunity. I had absolutely no idea who Macnas was or what the parade entailed (only that I really wanted to see it), so you can imagine why I hesitated for about 0.0002 seconds before raising my hand and loudly yelling that, yes, I wanted to participate.

(It’s my secret dream to some day be in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Please don’t judge me.)

So we determined that we would meet the next day down at Fisheries Field where their headquarters were located so we could go to Parade Rehearsal (I seriously think that’s the coolest thing ever in the world. Seriously…”Do you want to go get pizza?” “Oh no, I can’t, I have Parade Rehearsal.” Give it a try. Experience the awesome.) Abbie and I, however, had theatrical plans of our own for later that evening.

It was the start of the Galway Arts Festival, something I’ve been talking nonstop to people about since I discovered it existed. One of my top events was a street theatre performance entitled Firebirds being performed on Shop Street by a company called Theatre Titanik. The only thing I had gained from the leaflet was that there were going to be large “flying machines”. Abbie was a bit reluctant to go, but I forced her off the couch and downtown.

We got to Eyre Square, the starting place, a few minutes early and settled in. I admit, even after taking DK’s class last semester and having my eyes opened to the world of non-traditional theatre, I still expected—in my dumb American way—to have some mellow parade a la the Rose Bowl slowly crawl past me as I applauded politely. What I was NOT prepared for was the roaring of engines and three large machines appearing seemingly from nowhere, their engineers screaming and shouting.

Abbie and I scrambled towards the action, and she was the first to figure out that each of the machines was captained, respectively, by America, France, and Germany. The American was solo, wearing overalls with a white face and ball cap. His machine featured a fire canon and one of those giant, movie special-effects fans at the back. The French, a man and a woman who we’re still not sure whether they were brother/sister or husband/wife, looked like the Thernadiers had escaped from Les Mis. Their flying contraption resembled a very large, old-fashioned bicycle and the woman would walk around the crowd offering baguettes. The Germans, two men, road in a machine with giant black wings…and a lamp (I was seriously waiting for Flight of the Valkyries to play at any minute). One German resembled a cross between Augustus Gloop and the Monopoly man..the other was a thin, gangly man with a white face, who wore a spiked helmet (and if Stefan were here he could tell me the name of it), except the spike was something like a candle, and when he blew into a tube, fire would shoot into the air.

It was an amazing experience running after them as they rode down the streets, bickering with one another and interacting with the crowd. Occasionally one would steal the other’s machine, they would often bring members of the crowd to ride along with them, and they absolutely loved to take pictures with people (I got some, don’t even worry). All the characters were vivid and beautiful, but our hands-down favorite was the French male, even though he inadvertently made Abbie spill her cup of water on herself (I’m sure there’s a deep metaphorical meaning there too.)

We were both on such a high after seeing the performance and would not shut up about it, much to the annoyance to some of our other friends who we found on Shop Street. But after learning about it in Dr. Katie’s class, it was absolutely amazing to actually be able to experience it for ourselves.

Next stop: Parade Rehearsal.

Day Twenty

Monday, July 13th, 2009

The Aran Islands are one of the most celebrated and famous parts of Ireland. The three islands just off the Western coast have been celebrated in myth and legends for centuries. They are also famous for their woolen sweaters—one of which I still sadly do not own.

The day started our less than spectacular: Waking up at 9 a.m. sore and exhausted from Tip to face the prospect of walking around all day in the rain. The one bonus was that the bus that took us to the ferry was a double-decker, so we all got to ride on the top. The rain was even harder after reaching the docks for the ferry, making all our moods that much better.

After the ride to the largest of the islands (Inis Mor), during which I very excitedly did homework, we took in the small little port in which we’d been dropped. I immediately spotted the Aran Island sweater shop, which I had a burning desire to visit. But we quickly found out that we would be going on a two and a half hour walk, followed by lunch, followed by another two hour walk. And the rain was only slowly starting to let up.

So you can understand why we stalled as long as we could. Everyone in our group suddenly had to go to the restroom while some others of us decided to hit up Supermacs since we wouldn’t be eating for another six hours.

And let me clear: When I say “walk” I really mean “rock climbing”. Along cliffs with a sheer hundred foot drop into the raging ocean. On slippery rocks.

After telling Abbie that should I die, I leave everything to her (and thus possibly providing her with motive to give me a well-placed shove), we set out on our journey. Our guide, some local archeologist, seemed to have some aversion to laid out trails, which meant most of the time we were scrambling over rocks and boulders and praying they weren’t slippery and wouldn’t move.

To provide you with a bit better detail, the Aran Islands have no trees, and the thin layer of soil that once covered the island has worn down over the centuries, leaving the entire surface rocky and difficult to traverse. We were able to get really cool pictures of the ocean and checked out some really cool ruins (including one of the supposedly smallest church in the world—it was about as big as my room in Chico).

We finally got lunch, eating in one of the few restaurants on the island. We then went on a shorter walk up to the ruins of a fort, once more climbing up the rocky, steep hills instead of taking the convenient path leading up. We got the opportunity to lay out on the cliff, poking our heads out over the dizzying drop to the jagged rocks and churning ocean below.

The day did clear up, even getting sunny around lunchtime (apparently the islands enjoy better weather than Galway…not that I’m jealous or anything). Eventually it was time to go and we walked back down to the fort to the waiting shuttle buses that drove us back to the docks and the ferry. We didn’t have time to visit the sweater market—something I’m still bitter about to this day. I can find sweaters in Galway…but it’s just not the same.

After returning to Corrib Village, a couple of us decided to go to a nearby restaurant called The Spudhouse—specializing in, you guessed it, potatoes. Baked potatoes of all kinds, to be precise. It was amazingly delicious and I can assure there will be repeat visits. After all, who goes to Ireland and doesn’t eat potatoes?

(Walking along the rocks, laying along the cliffs, STRAIGHT DOWN)

Days Eighteen-Nineteen

Saturday, July 11th, 2009-Sunday, July 12th, 2009

To begin with, Hurling is a sport…not the act of someone heaving up the contents of their stomach. Well, okay technically it is both, but in Ireland, I’m talking about the former. So no more Facebook messages asking me how the throwing up was, okay?

Hurling is officially now my new favorite sport, astonishing really considering I usually detest all sports with the passion of a thousand suns. A Gaelic sport under the GAA, it’s something like a combination between field hockey, lacrosse, and football (soccer). And, I’m really sorry to say, it has made me lose all respect for American sports/athletes because they now look like the biggest pansies in the world.

To begin with, players don’t wear padding…at all. Helmets are even optional. And these guys are running around whacking each other with big wooden sticks. They also don’t get paid—there are no pro-hurling teams (aside from maybe the national team) so all of the players have day jobs. And it is such a popular sport that the town literally shuts down for the match and everyone wears their team colors.

These are all things I learned from going to the Munster Hurling finals. Our trip began at the glorious hour of 9 a.m. when went down to reception and got on our chartered bus (our friend James, who planned the whole thing, got us a chartered bus). We then made the drive down to Nenagh, a town about thirty minutes away from the match where some of James’s family lives. After waiting around for nearly two hours to check into the hostel (which was literally next to a lake and was actually quite nicer than our dorms), we made our way into town, made harder by the fact that it was a ten-minute drive and James could only fit four people at a time into his borrowed car.

So after three trips, we all finally made it. Most of the group immediately went into a pub to start drinking (it was about 3 p.m. by now) and I went to get something to eat. The rest of the group moved to another pub and I decided to explore the town rather than sit in a pub all day since that was what we were going to be doing all night. So I wandered about the town until we moved pubs again, this time meeting up with James and his cousins to watch the Galway v. Clare match (which Galway won…at least their hurlers are better than their football players). We stayed out until nearly 1 a.m. before a few of us decided to get a cab back to the hostel.

Sunday started even more bright and early with us waking up at 8 a.m. in order to be ready for our full Irish breakfast at 9. We ate breakfast, then got into a shuttle to take us to Thurles where the match was being held. Once there, it began raining off and on so, after buying some Tip gear from vendors (I got a flag) we ducked into Supermac’s to wait out the time to the match.

After a long walk up to the stadium, we found our places (we actually stood the entire match…but seeing as how the standing sections are at either end of the field, we actually had a pretty good view). The first match was the lower or more amateur league, I guess, which Waterford won (boo). Then it was time for the main event: The Munster Final.

Even though I knew pretty much nothing about hurling, it quickly became very interesting to watch. Teams score a point for making it through the posts above the goal (think football) and three points for actually making it inside the goal. By the halftime, Tipperary was up 10 points on Waterford and we were all fairly confident that Tip would win. Waterford gave them a run for their money the second half, however, but Tipperary still managed to find by five points.

After the game, we made our way through the mass of people back into town and had dinner before going to a pub for a celebratory drink. We met our bus at 9 p.m. and, exhausted, made it back to Galway around 11:30.

Next stop: The Aran Islands

(Castle next to our hostel, at the Tip match, hurlers)

Days Fourteen-Seventeen

Tuesday, July 7th, 2009—Friday, July 10th, 2009

When forced to attend the obligatory “Don’t Be A Jackass American in a Foreign Country” orientation at the end of last semester, one of the first thing they impressed upon us was the fact that we were studying abroad. As in going to class. As in reading. As in homework.

The fine people at the Study Abroad office at CSU Chico will be very proud to see that, on Tuesday, instead of doing my reading like a good little student…I blew it all off and went to the beach like a regular California person.

It was about a 45 minute walk down to Lower Salthill where the water is, but on a mercifully rain-free day it actually didn’t seem that bad (though that may have had something to do with the fact that we stopped at Supermac’s along the way). There’s really not a whole lot of beach area in Galway (at least the part we were at), but we found a little spot and took off our shoes to frolic in the water.

I don’t remember who it was, but someone had the brilliant idea to take one of those pictures with everyone jumping in the air. Well, there were four of us in the picture, and trying to get my friend Ricky to snap the shot with all four of us in the air proved to be quite tricky. I don’t think we ever got one with all of us in the air, and after about half an hour of “One, two, three, JUMP!” we pretty much gave up.

After the beach, we took the long way around Galway Harbor up to Shop Street, stopping to admire all the swans in the water and the many, many pigeons flying around. We took our time wandering up the street, stopping in to look at the shops (we found the original Claddagh ring shop and made a pact to go back and buy the only 40 Euro sterling silver rings. At 5, I met up with Abbie and Valerie at the grocery store and we bought an insane amount of food, which was good, because Valerie then made us an amazing dinner when we got home.

Wednesday was spent doing homework and going to class and was otherwise boring and uneventful.

Thursday was also spent in class, but I went out for the first time since Valerie’s birthday. We went to the King’s Head, a rather famous pub down on Shop Street. There was a large group of us, but we all found seats in front of the stage for the live band (not an Irish band, just a 90s cover band). But they were giving away free drinks (I think it was called a Smirnoff Mule or something) so that was pretty awesome.

After that, we went to the Front Door, the really loud and crowded place that’s kind of low on my Favorite Pubs in Galway list. It was so crowded that the only place we could find to stand was at the base of a stairway. A couple of us were feeling the drink by that time so we decided it was best to head home…but not before making a stop at Supermac’s which happens to be conveniently located next to the taxi depot.

Friday was also rather boring and uneventful. I contemplated doing laundry, but since it was raining outside and I’m a lazy bum, it didn’t happen. Nor did much else that day, really.

Next stop: Tipperary and the Munster Hurling Final

(Two of the many beach shots, looking out over Galway, the swans)

Day Thirteen

Monday, July 6th, 2009

I guess it makes sense that this would be unlucky day thirteen, seeing as how I thought my life would end numerous times throughout the day. I don’t think the ancient Celts had planned on having giant tour buses attempting to trek across the rugged terrain with study-abroad students holding on for dear life when they were marking out their roads.

Let me be clear: Luxurious five lane freeways? Don’t exist here. Wide and smoothly paved roads? Unheard of. The roads in Ireland are terrifyingly narrow and most out in the country aren’t really paved. So trying to drive a giant tour bus on this harrowing roads can easily give someone an anxiety attack, and considering that we had to practically make U-turns to get on roads sometimes and were driving on a cliff overlooking a fjord for a while, I think most of us panicked at least once.

Our first stop was the Killarney Abbey, which is basically this big mansion across a lake that used to belong to some rich guy and now houses nuns and their Catholic boarding school. Sounds awesome, right? Well, instead of actually going IN to the house and taking a tour, we just stopped for coffee before getting back on the Bus of Terror.

Speeding to our next destination (which none of us knew because no one ever tells us anything), the bus attempts to make practically a U-turn onto a very narrow, very unpaved road. This attempt results in us blocking the road for approximately five minutes while the driver executed an 11-point turn. Now on this new road (which we quickly discovered was bordered on either side by steep drop-offs) we passed a hostel, and to our great amazement, an amusement center full of exciting things like rock walls and ziplines. Surely this couldn’t be our stop?

Nope. We were headed to the Famine Road…which believe me, we were about as excited about as the name sounds appealing—especially after seeing the exciting ropes courses. So he got off the bus and onto this little hole in the wall trail where we were slipping down rocks and getting whacked in the face with thorny branches. 100 feet down the trail…it ended, forcing us to retrace our steps and get back on the bus. Apparently our guide (yes, we had a GUIDE) thought we could get to the magical Famine Road that way…but was wrong.

So we drove for another fifteen minutes, going down another very narrow and harrowing road in our giant tour bus of pollution. This time, however, we had a very steep drop off into Ireland’s only fjord—which for any of you who don’t know what a fjord is, it’s a really effing big body of water. So I’m still surprised I was the only one wearing my seatbelt. The bus pretty much dropped us off in front of someone’s house, so we were all wondering exactly where we were going, especially when we started wandering up some random trail past someone’s laundry.

For those of you envisioning Famine Road (built as a work relief project by those suffering from the famine) as being some thoroughly unexciting paved stretch of road that we would wander as our guide spouted some facts at us—you would be thinking the same thing I was. But as we were stumbling along rocky terrain and trying not to step in the gooey, muddy grass, assaulted from the wind and trying once again to not fall into the fjord…we realized we were on the famine road.

It’s not a road by our standards by any means. Barely walkable, the only distinguishing architecture is high stone walls prevent the land from eroding into the sea. The view was absolutely breathtaking, however. We stood on a green, rocky hill, the fjord was down below us, and on the other side was another mountain.

After making our way back, we got back on the bus and drove to some town whose name I unfortunately do not remember. We ate lunch there, though, a small group of us went to a local pub and had absolutely delicious soup. And then we looked at the sheep and wool museum. Yeah.

Then, even though everyone was pretty much exhausted and wanted to go home, we stopped at yet another random town, whose name I also do not remember, and were told we would walk around for a while. It was slightly cool, because there were ruins of an abbey that were really well-preserved that we walked around. And I also found Dr. Pepper at the local Spar for the first and only time since I’ve been here. That pretty much made my day.

Eventually, after a comparatively mild bus ride back to Galway, we all settled in for our second week of classes (and Abbie and I realized neither of us had read the play we were supposed to for the next day. Yay school!)

(Killarney Abbey, the Fjord and the Famine Road, little town we stopped for lunch)

Day Twelve

Sunday, July 5th, 2009

In most places, Sundays are generally days of rest. And in Ireland, I guess the same is true. I did really have a lazy Sunday morning, getting up and making a nice breakfast and just generally relaxing. A couple of my friends called, inviting me into town, and since it was raining, we took the Corrib Village Shuttle in. After deciding to find a place to eat, we wandered around Shop St. for a while, trying to find something that looked appetizing.

We finally settled on Finnegan’s, a traditional Irish pub in a building with an excellent stone façade. I finally got my traditional Irish stew and pint of Guinness (which was only 3.90 Euro—very cheap). We were all amazed, however, by the Irish Breakfast my friend Eileen bravely ordered. It included toast, bacon, sausages, potatoes, blood pudding, etc, etc and was basically a huge mound of food. We’ve made it a tradition now to come back to Finnegan’s on Sunday and conquer the breakfast.

Today also happened to be my roommate Valerie’s 21^st birthday. Though it means nothing here, she was determined to celebrate it in full American fashion. Abbie bought her a cake (with a monkey on it) and we put 21 candles on it and made her make a wish. Her sorority sisters also made her an adorable shot book in which whoever bought her a shot could write down their name, what kind of shot it was, and a note. She was determined to make it to 21 shots.

She made it to 22.

We started the night off at Taffe’s and she was well on her way when I bought her her eighth shot (called “The Valerie”—Aftershock topped with Bailey’s.) We then moved the party back to the Front Door, which was packed as ever with people. I stuck around till she reached her 21^st, then took a cab home with Abbie.

Because guess what? We had a field trip the next day…

Next Stop: Connemara

(Irish stew and a pint of Guinness. Heaven)

Day Eleven

Saturday, July 4th, 2009

When I think of my forefathers and how they bravely fought against the overwhelming forces of the entire British army and navy for our country’s independence based on the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, I’m thankful for the extreme sacrifices they made in preserving their vision of a perfect nation with a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

But would it have been too much to ask for Thomas Jefferson to throw in the abolishment of 9 a.m. field trips in foreign countries as he was penning the immortal words of the Declaration of Independence?

Couldn’t he have just slipped it in under the grievances to the British Government? ”#5: Thou shalt have no taxation without representation, #6: Thou shalt not force hungover American students into a field trip at nine o’clock in the morning on a Saturday.”

(P.S. James Dugan, I have never missed you more. We could have used you and your flag-waving.)

Because, as my alarm went off bright and early Saturday morning, I couldn’t help but really wish the great founding patriots of our country had really taken my needs more into account. Today was when three classes being forced to go on a field trip to Yeats’ Tower and Coole Park (Lady Gregory’s estate. Yes, I know they’re really important and did a bunch of important historical stuff, but I just couldn’t muster up any energy or excitement over being forced to spend my Saturday walking around some big tower.

The one bright spot in our morning was that Abbie introduced Valerie and I to an amazing thing she learned in Australia. Behold the wonder of the Tim-tam: A wafer-like cookie with chocolate filling covered in a thick layer of chocolate (and not available in the US). By biting off opposite corners of the cookie, you are able to stick one end in your hot cup of tea and use the other end to suck the tea through the cookie, thereby melting the chocolate into gooey goodness. Though every time we do it I feel almost like we’re snorting a line of cocaine, it’s probably one of the most exciting things I’ve experienced here.

But anyway, we got on the bus for our field trip and I pulled out my book, spending the drive reading and trying not to fall asleep. When we arrived at Yeats’ Tower, I was not at all surprised to see…a tower. I’ll post pictures once I can get back on the campus internet to upload them and figure out why blogspot doesn’t like to have a working ‘insert picture’ button, but it’s basically a very square, tall tower where Yeats’ lived for a while. Inside was a very narrow winding staircase that I was slightly afraid I would fall down and break my neck. The top of the tower, however, offered a stunning view of the Irish countryside.

After Yeats’s Tower it was off to Coole Park, Lady Gregory’s estate. I was less than enthusiastic about visiting, since the actual house had been torn down in the 1950’s and all that was left were the grounds. But it was actually rather interesting. After watching a 30-minute documentary that nearly put everyone to sleep, we walked on the grounds and saw where the parks services was keeping a family of Irish Red Deer (there was a baby!) and we went to the walled gardens where we were viciously attacked by bugs (seriously, they were flying around EVERYWHERE). There we saw the autograph tree, where many of her famous guests (including Yeats, G.B. Shaw, and others carved their names into the trunk).

After eating a quick lunch, we walked down to the lake where, for the first time, I really understood the magic and myth surrounding the Irish west. It was a small valley with a little stream running through it connecting to a larger lake. It was windy as hell, but I could almost imagine Lady Gregory walking about in her older years.

After the field trip, we had a brief rest before heading out on the town for our Canadian friend Courtney’s birthday (she’s so lucky to share her birthday with our country’s). It was a fun time—we went back to Crane’s and got pretty decent seats before the pub filled up completely and were able to listen to the traditional music the whole night.

I admit, I was a little tired so I wimped out a little early and went home to sleep. Though I maintain that it was purely to conserve energy for Valerie’s 21^st birthday the next day.

(Yeats' Tower, Abbie & I at the top of Y.T., Coole Park, C.P. again, band at Crane's)

Day Ten

Friday, July 3rd, 2009

After spending my first night in since arriving in Ireland and overcoming my jet lag, I was anxious to spend Friday exploring and adventuring with the people who have become my friends in the past week and a half. I’m lucky enough to not have classes on Fridays so the whole day was open to possibilities. Unfortunately, after waking up and eating breakfast, none seemed to be presenting themselves as my friends seemed otherwise occupied.

So I was forced to stay inside doing reading for my theatre class as it poured rain outside (it’s Ireland, what else is new?). I was beginning to think the whole day would be a waste when, as soon as I finished my required reading, a miraculous thing happened: The sun came out. Amazed by this unfamiliar sight in Galway, I immediately grabbed my towel, my sunglasses, my “for fun” book, and a sandwich and walked down to the banks of the River Corrib.

One positive thing about our dormitories is that they are literally situated next to the river and there is a small dock along the banks. This is where I laid out my towel and enjoyed my sandwich before laying down and reading my nice work of fiction. Despite the fact that I was still alone and hadn’t done anything yet that day (except my laundry which in itself is an accomplishment), I actually had fun lying in the sun right next to the water and seeing the tour boat cruise by and the teams of rowers practicing.

Eventually, it came time for an event that we had been looking forward to all week—a Galway United football match. (That’s soccer for us Americans). Despite the fact that we had been hearing consistently negative things about the team all week from the people who actually knew there was a match going on, we were still pretty pumped to see it and the stadium was less than a ten-minute walk from our dorms.

I don’t pretend that I know anything about soccer/football or that I actually have any interest in sports in general, but I figured since I was in Ireland, I should probably check out the local sport. And even I, who constantly had to ask what was going on, knew that the poor Galway United team was seriously outclassed by the mighty Cork team, who beat them 2-0.

We decided to nurse our injured pride by going out to the pubs. I ended up with the girls at The Front Door, a multistoried building that plays deafening American music and packs in more people than a sardine can. One member of our group met some locals and introduced us—putting aside the fact that they were all clearly pushing thirty, the leader of the group saw that I was drinking Smithwick’s and told me that it gave his friend muscles like Popeye, but I didn’t need to drink it because I “have enough boobs already.”

Needless to say, I didn’t stay there long after. It didn’t help that there seemed to be a disproportionate amount of gay men at the pub (who apparently didn’t get the memo that Dublin Pride was LAST week), and they might have traumatized my poor friend Niall (who is only 18 and the baby of our trip) because at least two had hit on him. So myself, Niall, and Liz (who is also from Chico) left and made our way up Shop St. where we happened to run into Abbey and some of her friends.

So we decided to tag along and went to a pub more down in the Claddagh called Crane’s, where it was equally packed with people, but the only music playing was that from a local, traditional Irish band. We managed to get a seat downstairs and enjoyed our drinks, counting down the minutes to midnight when we toasted the independence of our great country from the Brits (i.e. Adanna).

…and promptly got the “effing American tourist” look from all the Irish locals.

Next stop: Yeats’ Tower, Coole Park

(On the way to the match, the game, sunset on the River Corrib)

Days Six-Nine

Monday, June 29th - Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

Of course, upon waking up after our midnight move and first night’s sleep in Galway, the first thing I wanted to do was take a shower so that I might feel a little better about myself. After asking Abbie how to work the shower, I sat and waited for the hot water to heat up…and waited and waited and waited. A quick check of the taps revealed there was absolutely no hot water in our dorm. But this was to be expected, since we were apparently residing in the Murphy’s Law Dormitories.

I pushed all of that out of my mind and went to our “orientation” where they told us it was important to go to class and gave us our library cards and internet access passwords. Still not really sure how it ended up lasting for two hours…But after that a group decided to go find this famous fish and chips place near the end of Shop Street (I was personally hoping their portions were smaller than the baby beluga we experienced in Dublin).

So we set off for the city center, looking utterly like tourists as we consulted our map every two seconds (it’s left at the cathedral, by the way) and eventually arrived at the fish and chips shop. I’m delighted to say that it was pretty delicious and the glass of Coke was very refreshing after drinking pretty much nothing but beer for a few days. (Although I do miss Dr. Pepper like you wouldn’t believe. Did you know they don’t have that here?)

After dinner, we decided to go to a pub because, hey, our classes were still twelve hours away. We eventually settled on Taffe’s and all thirteen of us managed to find seats together and have a few pints before the live band began to play. We eventually got my friend Brittany to get up and out-Irish-dance the tin whistle player (she’s amazing) who was doing a pretty crappy job at it. There was also this very drunk Irishman (I think his name was Roland) who took particular interest in us and danced with us and led a spontaneous chorus of “Don’t Stop Believing”.

Tuesday was the start of classes, my only one being my Irish Theatre class. It seems very promising and interesting (though I do miss Dr. Katie’s lectures like crazy) so I’m pretty sure we’re going to have a lot of fun with it. Plus, we’re going to see pretty much every show I wanted to see at the Galway Arts Festival. I stayed in Tuesday night, watching a movie with some friends as we made dinner (yeah, it sucks not being able to eat at pubs all the time) and went to bed early.

Wednesday we watched a very sad movie about the Irish independence from Britain and the ensuing civil war. Then, I had my first Irish music class…of which I think I’m going to be slightly disappointed in…seeing as how we’ve spent the last few days talking about form and musical instruments…stuff I’ve happened to pick up in the last three years of being a music major. We’re also learning to play the tin whistle…which might prove to be more annoying than cool. But I did answer a question about minstrelsy and felt very proud of myself (Thanks DK).

Later that night (still Wednesday) we went down to Salthill to a pub to listen to a storyteller. It felt kind of odd not having any video or visual aides or special effects to add to the man’s story (as we have become accustomed to in our day and age), but it was seriously cool to just sit and listen to a man tell folk tales that have been passed down for hundreds of years. After that, we walked down to the ocean and went to another pub, at which time I called it quits because I had done absolutely none of my reading for the theatre class.

So I woke up at about 7 am this morning to complete said reading, eventually joined by Abbie who rolled in at around 9 am (I’ll let her explain that one). After our theatre class I went downtown to buy the previously mentioned tin whistle and then went to the music class to learn how to play said tin whistle. In all, today’s been rather dull compared to what I’ve been doing normally. In fact, I think it might be the first night since coming to Ireland where I’ve stayed in by myself.

And I’m really not sure what to do…

(Shop street, Taffe's, Roland (?) & Ricky, Abbie & I at the ocean)

Day Five

Sunday, June 28th, 2009

Speeding along the road to Galway, located on the opposite coast of Ireland from Dublin, I was glad that we finally had a chartered bus and didn’t have to actually walk there (believe me, I bet USAC was tempted to make us). Along the way, we stopped at a stately home (I don’t even remember the name of it) and toured the Famine Museum. By that point, all of us pretty much just wanted to get to Galway so we didn’t really take that much of an interest in it.

It was at least another hour spent in the bus, me trying to update this blog and eventually giving up to stare out the window, and all of us occasionally having sing along to the oldies (yeah, American) music the driver had put on. When we finally arrived in Galway, it was raining, putting a damper on our moods since we had been enjoying good weather for the past few days (Yeah, it rains in Ireland. A LOT. Who knew? Apparently not me who left rainboots/umbrellas at home).

We got our rooms and roommate assignments. I’m living with Abbie and a girl named Valerie, a theatre major from U. Maryland. Gee…I wonder why we were put together? Anyway, I was kind of mad because we had thought that Abbie and I were going to be sharing a room…but apparently the director worked it out so we all have our own rooms. So Abbie’s in a single while I’m occupying one lonely half of a two-person room. Well, the part I’m actually mad about is that there’s another single in the apartment…so I don’t exactly know why I’m getting the small bed in a 2 person room.

But anyway, a couple of us decided to go explore the town, in the rain, by ourselves instead of waiting for our leader to give us the tour. Well, we got a little lost, and eventually found the town center, but not before getting soaked. Then some people wanted to go to a fancy, expensive restaurant, so we split and those that wanted to conserve our Euro went to get pizza and eventually went back to the dorms.

…..whereupon we discovered that our neighbors had been attacked by BEDBUGS during a nap and were now being moved to a new room. This set off mass panic as Valerie and I (Abbie was out) tried to figure out what to do. Neither of us wanted to sleep in our beds, convinced we had the bugs too. We called Mark, the trip RA and asked him what to do, but he sleepily answered that he’d deal with it in the morning. We eventually stripped our beds completely to inspect for bugs. Let me tell you, I think those mattresses have been here since these crappy dorms were built…apparently Ireland hasn’t heard of the vinyl mattresses that are the norm across college campuses now.

I was the one who found the bug in Valerie’s bed. An hour later, after tearful and frantic calls to both our parents, who called USAC, Mark showed up and told us (and Abbie who had just got back and had just been informed of the situation) that we were moving. So, in the middle of the night, we packed up all our thinks and moved over to the next building, far away from anyone in our group.

We finally settled in, thinking our problems were over….

(Garden at Strokestown, Ricky doesn't like Prawn Cocktail crisps)

Day Four

Saturday, June 27th, 2009

At LAST, I thought, a bus. Seeing as how our two destinations for today were in County Wicklow far from Dublin, certainly we would have a bus and I could give my tired feet a well-needed break. And yes, we did take a bus. A public tour bus. Who apparently overbooked the tour so that five of our group didn’t have seats. Which led to Bus Eirann having to try to bribe people for refunds and when that didn’t work, having to get a whole other bus and convince five people to get on that one and follow us. (Why we just didn’t get on that bus, I’ll never know.)

Finally situated, we headed off to the mountains south of Dublin. By this point, we were all so tired (and hungover) that we had absolutely no idea where we were going other than that we were going somewhere out in the country. We finally arrived in Powers Court and found a very stately home. But the real reason to visit Powers Court is for the gardens. Stretching for acres, there are Japanese Gardens, Italian Gardens, walled gardens, fountains, and statues (even a pet cemetery).

We took our time exploring the gardens, finding particular interest in the Japanese Garden that had a lot of hidden nooks and secretive staircases, one nook apparently looking like something out of Fern Gully. The dolphin fountain unfortunately had no dolphins, which was mildly disappointing. I found particular interest in the shops—a shame that the scarf I liked cost 30 Euro.

We regrouped and got back on the bus, now heading toward Glendalough. I had absolutely no idea what this place was, but it was nice to be driving through the Irish countryside and seeing lots of sheep (even though we were on very windy and narrow roads in a giant bus). When we arrived, all we could see were ruins dotting the countryside. Apparently Glendalough is an ancient and well-preserved monastery from the medieval times. So, naturally, we took a tour of the ruins, seeing a still-intact round tower that was common of monasteries of the time, and a graveyard that stretched out as far at the eye could see.

After a quick rest and some ice cream, we went back to Dublin where we rested and grabbed a quick dinner from the store across the street. Then, it was out on the town to pubs (naturally). Apparently a lot of the group wanted to go to some bar that appeared in P.S. I Love You (I’ve never seen it) so we ended up hiking halfway across Dublin led by the Irish guy in charge of housing. Well, turns out this was more of a club than a pub and they wanted to charge us a 10 Euro cover…which we all refused to pay. So they lest us in for 5 Euro…which still sucked. And when we got inside, none of us could hear each other because the music was so loud and nearly got separated because it was so crowded and dark.

Needless to say, a few of us ended up standing in a corner. After all, if I wanted to go to a club, I could have stayed in Chico or Sacramento. So it was eventually decided that we would split and go back to Kennedy’s. Somehow I managed to navigate the streets of Dublin sans map and we got to the pub, finishing the night off with a Guinness before heading back to NCI to pack and sleep.

Because the night is always better with Guinness.

Next stop: Galway

(Finally settling in)

(Powerscourt Gardens, Inside Fern Gully, Cemetary at Glendalough, Round tower at Glendalough)