A weekend in Galway!

This last weekend the group spent a lot of time in the city of Galway, and went on excursions to the town of Cong and to the Cliffs of Moher, which are famous for their appearance in the movie The Princess Bride. I’ll try to keep the timeline as chronological as possible but its difficult as I get excited. 

As I recovered from the grievous wound that was an 8 a.m. wake up call and more or less took a nosedive into the seat on the bus there was only one thought on my mind. Getting a picture of a donkey next to a sign of the city of Cong (come on you know that was a little funny). Unfortunately there was not one single donkey there, next to a sign or otherwise, which throughly disappointed me. 

I quickly recovered though as my exploring troop wandered into a used book store. As a lover of all things old and historic I wanted to sit in the corner of this store until its walls swallowed me whole and I became “part of the ship, part of the crew”. Yes that is a Pirates of the Caribbean reference live with it. Where some people might have seen dirty and dusty books that were falling apart, in the most plain and boring store on the planet in the middle of nowhere, I saw something different. This place smelled exactly how it should have. Crisp air mingling with the musty glory that only an old book can carry mixed in my nose and the impact hit me in the chest like a hammer. The past was...alive in this place. It was more than an idea, more than simple proof that there is indeed artifacts that were created long before my lifetime. Towering bookshelves that screamed to be climbed carried the hearts and souls of authors and readers alike. Opening the fragile spines of a time machine more powerful than the Tardis or any DeLorean I pondered about who had read this book before me. How much it must have meant to someone, escaping into the world that these celebrated authors had provided for them. After a very long period of heart-wrenching deliberation I escaped with a copy of Robin Hood which was printed in 1903, and for only 6 euro!

On our trip to the Cliffs of  Moher we stopped at a place, which I didn’t bother remembering the name of and now wish I had. There was another ancient burial tomb where there wasn’t room to swing a kneazle which had over 30 people buried inside. That must have been the most somber game of tetris in history. The limestone that covered the ground was over 320 MILLION years old. Million. 320. AND THEY LET US WALK ON THEM. I was so excited to have the chance to physically connect with something that old. At one point I lay upon the surface of the limestone and pressed my ear against it, listening to see if I could hear the stories it had to share. Rocks, as you know speak very slowly, limestone in particular and we had to move on so sadly I wasn’t able to listen but I did speak to the rock, and I’m fairly certain it will remember me. 

The Cliffs of Moher, or as I always call them The Cliffs of Insanity because really....I mean...come on...they’re the Cliffs of Insanity, were spectacular just as you could imagine. A classmate and I found sticks and absolutely re-enacted the famous fight scene from the film, frequently crying out “I am Indigo Montoya! Prepare to die!” and “Ah but you see, I am not left handed either!” as we battled, a stiff Irish wind in our faces, the threat of plummeting to our deaths (if we jumped the wall and ran the extra 30 feet to the edge) with the encouragement of our classmates. I am not ashamed to admit that I lost, as her sword was much mightier than mine, and easily snapped it in pieces. 

For our time in the city of Galway we kept busy with adventuring. We traveled its winding cobbled streets visiting various pubs, wandered through its mall which seemed to be built inside the city structure as you wouldn’t be able to tell it was there unless you looked for it. We found a Dominos that was open until 3 a.m. so in shameful American style we went for a few late night snacks, and when we were still hungry after that we visited McDonalds for Shamrock Shakes. Other than that no one could tell we were from the states I swear. Except for the time we saluted a man dressed as Captain America and I yelled “O Captain my Captain!” My favorite moment in Galway came when we visited a pub called Richardson’s. I had visited the very same pub located in Eire (pronounced Air) Square four years ago when I was 17 years old. From the barrel next to the corner booth, the same dark lighting, the beautifully carved wood everywhere you looked, to the bartender and the Guinness pint in my hand it was exactly how I remembered it, and nostalgia kicked me in teeth. A quiet drink in a quiet pub playing traditional music made for a great ending to a wonderful trip.  

The Snowbowl! Rugby stye.

Yesterday in Louisburgh felt uncannily like life at home in Minne-snow-ta. Every cottage awoke to a thick layer of slush covering the entire area. The trees, bent from years of a strong wind off the ocean were decorated with icicles and their base wrapped in snow. Thinking to myself that this was just great. Typical. Escape the clutches of General Winter only to have snow slink back into my life. Ireland is supposed to be green not white!! Thankfully, my frustration was beaten back and conquered by a knock on my door and the question “do you want to have a snowball fight?”. My cottage-mate and I responded with a simultaneous and enthusiastic “YES!” and tripping over ourselves prepared for battle. The consistency of the snow was prime for snowballs. It was the type of snow that seemed to be afraid to be alone so it stuck to as much as the other snow as it could, the kind that squeaks a little when you form it into a snowball, and the type that hurts really really bad if you catch one that was thrown at you full force. Battle cries ripped through the air as alliances formed quicker than I’m comfortable with. Culminating with my gathering of what I can only describe as a snow boulder and yelling in my best Braveheart voice “FREEEEDDOOOMMMMM!” I sacrificed my ribs to crush their leader and essentially win independence for cottages 4 and 5 against they tyranny of 6 and 7. 

At this point it occurred to us that my classmate had purchased a rugby ball last week. Most of the class was diving in the snow, throwing the ball up in the air, and playing keep away from everyone at the same time, having some good old fashioned fun in the snow. If anyone has seen the movie The Longest Yard picture the muddy football game they played but add in snow and rain. After awhile we split off into teams and created some loose rules based off of what we knew about the sport, which was not much. My team’s strategy revolved around the movie Might Ducks as we advanced in a V formation, chanting “Ducks fly together! Ducks fly together!” This will definitely be a day that will stand out during my semester here. 

Local Tour!

Last week the class went on a local tour day trip around Louisburgh's surrounding areas, including the nearby city of Westport. It gave us a great opportunity to become more familiar with the immediate area, and gave us some insight about the history of Ireland (hang in there I know that sounds like a four letter word to many people...History). In true Irish fashion we faced the rain and wind in style throughout the day. My classmate offered the motto “take no prisoners!” and it quickly became the battle cry we used for venturing off the bus and into the elements.

We visited a burial tomb which were commonly used in Ireland centuries ago. What looked like one large stone slab laying atop several short upright stone slabs to create a box type formation, held the cremated remains of ancient Irish tribal leaders. We could still see the cross that had been etched deep in the top of the burial chamber which astonished me. To be able to see and touch such an old, sacred object made me feel more connected with the past. To understand that it is real. And I don’t mean seeing the Declaration of Independence I’m talking B.C. here people. 

The next legendary ancient landmark we went to was the Clapper Bridge. Built for pedestrians to cross the ford, it looked as though small windows were carved along the bridge. Those gaps allowed water to pass through the bridge, leaving it in tact during a flood instead of having to stand strong against the rising river. 

One of my favorite moments of the day was when the bus stopped at a beach when the rain was really coming down. A group of five of us decided that no prisoners would be taken and we went adventuring on the beach. For any regular readers, you might remember when I wrote about the recent storms destroying many places around Ireland, and this beach was no different. What used to be a sparkling sand beach, was no completely covered in rocks, similar to those we have on the shores of Lake Superior at home in Minnesota. Turing around to walk back to the bus made battling the rain and wind worth it though. Several persistent rays of sunlight had burst through the clouds and lit the face of a gorgeous green hill in the distance. Brightly colored homes and grazing sheep stood, defiant, against Mother Nature and were rewarded, if only for a brief moment. But oh what a moment. 

We ended the local tour with a stop in Westport. While we only had about forty-five minutes there, our little troop made the most of it. Making a wide loop around the town we were able to see houses built on steep hills, cobbled streets, and secret hallways almost that lead from one area of the city to another. We stopped at Thomas Moran’s shop and laughed at all the little trinkets they had to sell there. T-shirts emblazoned with “The Leprechauns made me do it!” to purses with Guinness scrawled across them there was no shortage of things to look at it. In the corner of hats several of us admired our reflections in the mirror, enhanced by the most Irish headwear we could imagine. While a friend chose a comically large black felt top hot, I myself opted for a beige Irish driving hat. To end our day, we stopped at a bakery. Assaulted with smells of chocolate and fresh pastries, the group of us excitedly attempted to sort out which treasures to escape with. With the famous charm of her countrymen, the baker explained to us the differences in products and made recommendations. One by one my classmates took their chocolate truffles, and coffee cakes dipped in carmel outside, while I frantically had to make what was most certainly the most difficult decision of my week. I asked what the baguette like product on the second shelf was. I was told “its a sugar sprinkled doughnut with-” before I interrupted her with a “Yep! That one!”. She looked at me, winked and said “I had you at doughnut didn’t I?”.  

Cool Eire Runnings

For my time here in Ireland I'll be running regularly in an attempt to offset the sheer mountain of potatoes I'll be consuming. Today was my first run and it was great to get out and get the blood moving. I feel a certain amount of peace while I run, and its when I feel most physically connected with my surroundings, and what spectacular surroundings I have here. The gentle running rivers and rolling hills of the Shireland (see what I did there?) make for the perfect background to look at while gasping for air. Its become apparent to me that I have quite a long road ahead of me still before I return to the physical shape I was in previous to my surgery but you have to start somewhere yes?

Quick highlights of today's run:
Nothing quite says "crazy Yankee" like passing a woman in a fuzzy hooded parka in racing spandex and a track jersey. The weather is warm here I promise!

On my way back to the cottage I was running alongside a pasture with several sheep grazing. Most of them ignored me, except for one young ram. As I approached him he turned and bolted with surprising power and speed, racing for the other end of the pen. I felt guilty, assuming that I scared the little guy. Well until he turned back at me and sauntered off towards the ewes with a subtle "baa". I haven't been disrespected as in athlete in that way since a nurse asked me if I was the kicker of the football team.

A day with Barry

             Barry is a local man here in Louisburgh and a few of us stopped to play with his sheep dogs Jan and Bell and chat with him after class today. The conversation turned towards the storm that hit County Mayo recently and Barry said he was going to look at the damage done to the beaches, and offered to take some of us with if we were interested. Two of my male classmates and I said we’d love to go, and agreed to meet at Barry’s house in several hours. 

            The three of us were invited in for tea and coffee and to meet his cat Freddie. We gained some great insight from Barry about where to go, and more importantly where not to go, in Dublin. After awhile he told us “well boyos, time to saddle up I think!”. And we hopped in his car and began our tour of the storm damage. 

           Barry took us to all of the local beaches, that is the ones we were able to reach. The damage was substantial, and more severe at each area we visited. At the first beach where there used to be three storage units, there were now two. Huge rocks now covered the once sandy beach, and pieces of the hill above had been washed away. Barry told us that the layer of charcoal black peat that lay where the car park used to be should have been twenty-five meters below our feet. When I asked if there was anything to be done to clear the beach I was told that “the sea will take back what she gives”. 

The more places we stopped the more we saw the power and treachery of the sea. Driftwood and debris lay in the pastures of farmers, and previously green fields now lay flooded, which was estimated to take at least a month to drain. Here we also found the third storage unit, which belonged several miles over. When my classmate commented on how terrible the destruction was Barry remarked that “Nature is nature and you can’t best it. She’s only taking back what was once hers”. This comment was a recognition that we are at the mercy of our environments and it struck me hard. There was one encouraging sight however. As we stopped at the end of a road that had been washed out and flooded, I saw a swan floating in the newly formed lake. It reminded me that even in the face of disaster, beauty can be found as long as you look hard enough.   

For the next few months I'll be living in Ireland as part of a study abroad program, which is sure to be very different from my college experience at home in Minnesota. As part of the curriculum I’ll be regularly blogging, a new experience for me. I’m excited to throw myself into a new culture and new challenges very different from the ones I have encountered in my life so far. I plan to get as much out of my short time here, and share my point of view through this blog. 

Packing was an obstacle as I have never had to pack for several weeks before, let alone several months. My goal was to have my packing reflect the more relaxed style of living in Ireland as opposed to the materialistic culture of the United States (as well as keeping under the weight requirements for the airline). I would like to think that I achieved both goals, but at least I completed the second goal so perhaps that will have to do. 

Since the flight not only have I had to adjust to another country’s culture, but also to the subculture of the other students in the program. I hadn’t met any of my classmates previously and had a heavy feeling of trepidation because of that fact. Despite my anxiety of how I would fit in with the other students I was practically salivating at the truly wonderful opportunity to live Across the Pond. Stepping off the plane in Shannon I noticed a very distinct difference. I just simply felt different. In my dazed and sleep deprived state I cast about trying to determine what it was, and then I realized. The air. It felt lighter, cleaner, and had such a fresh smell. To step off a stale plane into the Irish air lifted my spirits to where my body had been just minutes previously. 

After settling into the cottages and getting a peat fire going (helped immensely by my cottage-mate’s talent for fire building) it started to sink in that this was my home, for three months. Perhaps that doesn’t sound like a long time to anyone reading this but currently it feels like a decent bit of time. That night we experienced the famed hospitality of the Irish at one of the town’s several pubs. A mixture of starting to make connections with the other students, visiting with locals, a nice pint of Guinness, and the perfectly timed arrival of sandwiches from the local grocery left me with a feeling of buoyancy in my soul. After gladly reaching my bed after about 36 hours of being awake I collapsed smiling and thinking to myself, man Ireland is going to fun!