Oh, how I wish I were on Ronsdale road, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters with my brother and my parents... Instead, I am in Dublin, struggling to write even a few measly sentences for my theology term paper. Eesh...
I have much to say, but I can't say it until this paper is turned in. Wish me luck!
Clare Mairead
p.s. Joy to the world, my mama is coming!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Frustrated and behind on homework...but loving the world.
I realized that you can become fond of just about anyone if you're around them enough. For example, my director for Dr. Horrible, Chris. I was very unhappy with him at the beginning of the process. He seemed very bizarre, awkward, rude, and unorganized. A very poor combination of descriptives. He still is all those things. But now I find his awkwardness endearing. And as much as I'm frustrated with how unorganized his directing style is, I sympathize with him instead of taking it out on him. I think I've just realized that he means well. The same with our music director. Yes, he's got an embarrassingly bad voice. Yes, he is kind of incapable of teaching anyone how to sing a line of a song. But he always wants to please people. And when a female cast member is missing, he takes such pride in busting out her solo lines in his falsetto. It's hard not to find him endearing, no matter how frustrating his lack of musical ability. Finally, Mike Rodio (this one's dangerous to write about since a lot of Notre Dame people know him, but don't worry, it ends happily). Mike and I don't get along all that well. Mostly because he'll say something arrogant or sarcastic, and I'll tell him he's a jerk and he needs to be quiet. Then the cycle continues. As Siomha says to people "Mike and Clare have a love/hate relationship. More on the hate side." But it's gotten to the point now where I like having him around. I'm downright fond of him, our squabbles and all. It has become a good-natured-sibling thing (kinda like me and Norah!! Except Mike is kind of afraid of me now. Norah is not afraid of me).
Maybe this "being fond of people" thing won't last too long, but right now I'm very pleased with the way I'm feeling towards people here. I don't dislike anyone, I don't talk about anyone behind their backs... I think it's better to just be "fond" of people, flaws and all. I know "fond" is a vague word, but I think it's one that's well-suited for this kind of situation.
I hope that all made sense.
The past few days have passed extraordinarily slowly. I'm not quite sure what I did. I spent most of Friday at the beautiful O'Connell house pretending to do homework, and in the evening I watched The Nightmare before Christmas with Nicole and a UCD friend named Thom. Having been away from my mom and Norah for months, I demanded that both Nicole and Thom give me a massage. They did so willingly. It was wonderful.
All day Saturday and Sunday were spent doing absolutely nothing in the halls of DU Players. We barely ran the show once. I'm truly disappointed with the society as a whole. PEMCo has no school support, nowhere to practice, no stable resources. DU Players has a fantastic home base, filled with two theatres, practice rooms, a work shop, a costume room--all available 24/7 all year round. They have so many interested students, all with so much talent. They have the support of the school, not to mention dozens of celebrities. And what do they do with all that support? Produce mediocre shows. Maybe I shouldn't say that, since I really don't know if my experience with DU Players is a typical one. But I know that I have never appreciated PEMCo more. What a fabulous organization. We make something wonderful out of practically nothing, year after year. Not only that, but we manage to all be best friends in the process. I feel really blessed that I went to Notre Dame, mostly because of my involvement in PEMCo.
That was cheesy, but it was also true.
I think that going abroad is a great experience. But I don't think its value lies in going to the bars every night. I don't even think its value lies in traveling to countless countries. That's all fine and good. But I think you need to go abroad just because you need to leave home. You need to leave your home to realize how great it really is. I miss Notre Dame. I miss my friends, I miss the trees, I miss the professors, I miss the buildings, I miss PEMCo. And I miss Beverly Hills. I miss my family, I miss 13 mile road, I miss my car, I miss Somerset around Christmas time. Maybe that's weird that the "value" I'm getting out of my abroad experience doesn't relate to my actual experiences abroad. But I think there's something to be said for appreciating where you come from. I wouldn't want to feel any other way.
Now I'm off to bed. Maybe I'll pretend to read some of Richard the Third before I go to bed. Or maybe I won't.
Night,
Clare Mairead
P.S. Speaking of fondness for others, my roommate, Siomha, is delightful. She has become a little piece of home for me. We're oddly similar in our personalities, in our moodiness, in our love for weddings and tea and girl talk. It's strange how quickly we became close. We don't even spend that much time together, but we coexist wonderfully. And she's taken to saying things like "my clare" when she's talking about me or defending me, or she says "hello beautiful" if we pass each other coming back from class. It's little things like that that make me feel like she's my home here.
P.P.S. Just a little anecdote... Siomha's "hello beautiful"s almost backfired on her one night. My Irish roommate, Dee, has a boyfriend named Henry. One night, Siomha was in the shower/bathroom washing her hands, and Henry was walking into the toilet/bathroom (we have two bathrooms. It's weird). Siomha didn't see the person's face, just their shadow as they walked by. She knew that the person was tall, and assumed it was me. She must've been in one of her silly moods, because she was about to say "hi sexy," to me when she saw a MALE hand reach outside the bathroom and turn on the light switch. Luckily she only got out "hi" when she stopped herself. She was mortified. It was hilarious. I think Dee might have murdered her in her sleep if Siomha had said "hi sexy" to her boyfriend. That would have been a difficult one to explain.
Maybe this "being fond of people" thing won't last too long, but right now I'm very pleased with the way I'm feeling towards people here. I don't dislike anyone, I don't talk about anyone behind their backs... I think it's better to just be "fond" of people, flaws and all. I know "fond" is a vague word, but I think it's one that's well-suited for this kind of situation.
I hope that all made sense.
The past few days have passed extraordinarily slowly. I'm not quite sure what I did. I spent most of Friday at the beautiful O'Connell house pretending to do homework, and in the evening I watched The Nightmare before Christmas with Nicole and a UCD friend named Thom. Having been away from my mom and Norah for months, I demanded that both Nicole and Thom give me a massage. They did so willingly. It was wonderful.
All day Saturday and Sunday were spent doing absolutely nothing in the halls of DU Players. We barely ran the show once. I'm truly disappointed with the society as a whole. PEMCo has no school support, nowhere to practice, no stable resources. DU Players has a fantastic home base, filled with two theatres, practice rooms, a work shop, a costume room--all available 24/7 all year round. They have so many interested students, all with so much talent. They have the support of the school, not to mention dozens of celebrities. And what do they do with all that support? Produce mediocre shows. Maybe I shouldn't say that, since I really don't know if my experience with DU Players is a typical one. But I know that I have never appreciated PEMCo more. What a fabulous organization. We make something wonderful out of practically nothing, year after year. Not only that, but we manage to all be best friends in the process. I feel really blessed that I went to Notre Dame, mostly because of my involvement in PEMCo.
That was cheesy, but it was also true.
I think that going abroad is a great experience. But I don't think its value lies in going to the bars every night. I don't even think its value lies in traveling to countless countries. That's all fine and good. But I think you need to go abroad just because you need to leave home. You need to leave your home to realize how great it really is. I miss Notre Dame. I miss my friends, I miss the trees, I miss the professors, I miss the buildings, I miss PEMCo. And I miss Beverly Hills. I miss my family, I miss 13 mile road, I miss my car, I miss Somerset around Christmas time. Maybe that's weird that the "value" I'm getting out of my abroad experience doesn't relate to my actual experiences abroad. But I think there's something to be said for appreciating where you come from. I wouldn't want to feel any other way.
Now I'm off to bed. Maybe I'll pretend to read some of Richard the Third before I go to bed. Or maybe I won't.
Night,
Clare Mairead
P.S. Speaking of fondness for others, my roommate, Siomha, is delightful. She has become a little piece of home for me. We're oddly similar in our personalities, in our moodiness, in our love for weddings and tea and girl talk. It's strange how quickly we became close. We don't even spend that much time together, but we coexist wonderfully. And she's taken to saying things like "my clare" when she's talking about me or defending me, or she says "hello beautiful" if we pass each other coming back from class. It's little things like that that make me feel like she's my home here.
P.P.S. Just a little anecdote... Siomha's "hello beautiful"s almost backfired on her one night. My Irish roommate, Dee, has a boyfriend named Henry. One night, Siomha was in the shower/bathroom washing her hands, and Henry was walking into the toilet/bathroom (we have two bathrooms. It's weird). Siomha didn't see the person's face, just their shadow as they walked by. She knew that the person was tall, and assumed it was me. She must've been in one of her silly moods, because she was about to say "hi sexy," to me when she saw a MALE hand reach outside the bathroom and turn on the light switch. Luckily she only got out "hi" when she stopped herself. She was mortified. It was hilarious. I think Dee might have murdered her in her sleep if Siomha had said "hi sexy" to her boyfriend. That would have been a difficult one to explain.
Friday, October 22, 2010
off the hook
Well, this is the conclusion of the most boring week of my life. Strapped for cash and behind on studying, I stayed in every night. Well, except last night. Last night I went out for hookah and tea with Nicole and Siomha and a bunch of UCD-ND kids. Even though I stayed in a lot this week, I am a PRO at wasting time. I did not do very much homework at all. Partially because I had rehearsal every night, but partially because I simply slept more often, cleaned my room more often, sent very very long emails, and skyped people from home.
Well done Clare.
Good news, I'm not getting kicked out of Trinity! And I don't have to pay a crazy fine! At around 10:15 this morning, Siomha and I got all dressed up and conservative and made our way over to the Junior Dean's office for our meeting to discuss the "incident" that occurred on "the night of October 14th and morning of October 15th." We left at 10:15 because we weren't quite sure where the Junior Dean's office was, and we didn't want to show up late. After we stepped outside, however, we remembered that we are located in Front Square, central to everything. The Junior Dean's office was in the building right across from us. Which meant we were a half an hour early for our 10:45 appt. So, we dawdled as much as we could, then walked into the Junior Dean's office around 10:27. The woman at the front desk was like "Well, um, you're a bit early. There's a 10:30 group before you and they aren't even here yet." But turns out the dean was able to see us early (lucky, since Siomha had class at 11). The meeting lasted about 3 minutes. We got off with a warning. But if we ever do it again, the fine will be about £250......AHHHH.
That's literally all the news I have right now. Maybe I'll do something interesting this weekend. Or... maybe not. My MOMMA is coming in 9 days! Rejoice!
Love,
Clare Mairead
p.s. What should I be for Halloween? I'm open to any and all suggestions.
Well done Clare.
Good news, I'm not getting kicked out of Trinity! And I don't have to pay a crazy fine! At around 10:15 this morning, Siomha and I got all dressed up and conservative and made our way over to the Junior Dean's office for our meeting to discuss the "incident" that occurred on "the night of October 14th and morning of October 15th." We left at 10:15 because we weren't quite sure where the Junior Dean's office was, and we didn't want to show up late. After we stepped outside, however, we remembered that we are located in Front Square, central to everything. The Junior Dean's office was in the building right across from us. Which meant we were a half an hour early for our 10:45 appt. So, we dawdled as much as we could, then walked into the Junior Dean's office around 10:27. The woman at the front desk was like "Well, um, you're a bit early. There's a 10:30 group before you and they aren't even here yet." But turns out the dean was able to see us early (lucky, since Siomha had class at 11). The meeting lasted about 3 minutes. We got off with a warning. But if we ever do it again, the fine will be about £250......AHHHH.
That's literally all the news I have right now. Maybe I'll do something interesting this weekend. Or... maybe not. My MOMMA is coming in 9 days! Rejoice!
Love,
Clare Mairead
p.s. What should I be for Halloween? I'm open to any and all suggestions.
Monday, October 18, 2010
I love Canada (Canadians, specifically)
Monday night, Nicole invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner. I thought she was joking. I responded "You know that it's only October...right?" But then I learned that America is not the only country in this world to have a Thanksgiving! For those who are wondering, their Thanksgiving does not revolve around pilgrims. They just....give thanks. After a long day shopping, they discovered that Ireland does not sell turkey except on Christmas and occasionally American Thanksgiving. So, we had ham! It was actually delicious. Sweet potatoes and turkey and lots of wine and laughing. It made me happy and homesick.
Tuesday, after a failed lunch in the Buttery with Nicole (very expensive for not so great food), I had my first Shakespeare tutorial. It was...interesting. There are only 10 people in my tutorial (which means I can't miss ANY or my grade gets lowered...) and they are all. So. Irish. I haven't interacted with Irish people all that much, aside from Eoghan and Daragh and a couple girls in Dr. Horrible. I was surprised to learn that Irish people are different from Americans. I guess I should have known that.
But it hit me very hard in the tutorial. Most of them were nearly silent, and when they did speak, their uncertain, shy answer seemed so charming and intelligent. Not fair. This one boy (guy? man? I don't know what's appropriate to call a 20 year old) was the most intellectual person I've ever met. He had on grandpa loafers, striped, earth-tone socks, and corduroys. Very dark hair, lots of scruff, attractive. Very, very, very serious. Had an intensely proper (nearly English) Irish accent. His brow (yes, his brow) was constantly furrowed (yes, furrowed) as he answered questions with confidence, forced-humbleness, and an "I'd like to explore this complex issue further..." sort of attitude. He challenged all of his classmates about their responses to questions (including me).
Ok, I got a little off topic. That night I had theology (eh) and a little make-shift dinner with Siomha and Mike back in our flat. Mike had me listen to the song we're going to be performing for Thanksgiving mass. All Notre Dame kids are invited to a fancy shmancy Thanksgiving dinner at the Merrion Hotel, held by the Naughton Family (the OWNERS of the hotel. no big deal). He let me know that I was going to be singing the soprano part. Alone. So, I better start warming up. Now.
Wednesday, I did some much need shopping with Nicole. We looked like big goons walking through grafton st. with huge shopping bags. I've noticed that people in Dublin just walk any which way they please. In America (oh how I miss thee), we all know to walk on the right side of the sidewalk. In Dublin, I THINK the rule is the left. However, either they break this rule all the time, or there are just SO many tourists and international people that the rule has essentially been demolished. Walking on the sidewalk has become a video game, ducking in and out and around and speeding up and slowing down. With shopping bags...well... the video game becomes that much harder.
After I conquered the video game, I exercised for the FOURTH time since I've been in Dublin. Pathetic. I'll go more now that things have settled down. Then I had to run to rehearsal...I had a lot of fun. But the musical director doesn't know how to run a rehearsal, and the director is still just...weird. I miss Mark Wurzelbacher and Brian Davenport oh so much. Anyways, I'm one of the groupies in the song 'Perfect Story.' I'm singing the low alto part. High soprano one day and low alto the next! Craziness, I tell you! If you want to watch a little of the show, here you go. I'm the gay guy. Yep.
On Thursday we had our first rehearsal for the Deer's Cry at the O'Connell house. It went well... but slowly. After rehearsal, I hurried back to Trinity to meet my friend and her family. They wanted to check out the Book of Kells, and as I hadn't seen it yet, I was more than happy to be their free ticket! Felt pretty cool to flash the Trinity student ID and march in there for free, a parade of people trailing behind me. The Book of Kells was cool, but the library is what stunned me. I was suddenly in Harry Potter. I was in the library in Beauty and the Beast. I was transported back in time, to 250 years ago. It was dark, ancient, mysterious, and HUGE. If Trinity students were still allowed to study there, I would do nothing else but study. Unfortunately all the books are roped off. Everything preserved for the public. If you want to read a book from the Old Library, there's a little reading room for people to go sit in. You request a book (you have to have a very good reason to read that book). The librarian puts on gloves. Then she climbs all the ladders, sliding around like Belle in the Beauty and the Beast or Olivander in his wandshop in Harry Potter. She brings you the book. You are allotted two hours to read the book. Then she puts it back for you. CRAZY. I can't imagine the day when Trinity students were actually allowed to study in there, peruse the bookshelves whenever they liked. So many things happened in that library. Charles Stewart Parnell was secretly sworn into the Irish Republican Brotherhood in that library. The library houses one of 10 original copies of the Irish Declaration of Independence. Walking through that library, cursing the swarms of tourist invading MY library, I couldn't believe that I'm actually attending Trinity College.
After a delicious nutella crepe with the Book of Kell-goers, I went to rehearsal for Dr. Horrible once again. We were working with an acting/physical coach that day. When I entered the guy's apartment, I discovered that he was...a little person (a midget? a small person? what's the PC word for it?). After my first initial "oh my gosh, I'm literally 3 feet taller than this guy" moment (I'm not trying to insult anyone, really, but it was tough to keep a straight face for those first few minutes. Not just because he was small. But because I am so damn tall!), I really enjoyed working with him. I admit, that each time he stuck his chest out proudly, demonstrating the proper stage position, or jumped up and down to capture our attention, I had to stifle a little laugh. But I really enjoyed working with him! After rehearasal I hurried to St. Anne's church off grafton st. to go to an Arvo Part 75 year Birthday concert. It was beautiful. I had chills the entire time. The soprano's voice was incredible. She just soared up to the high notes like it was nothing. Her voice was so pure, so still, like it was gliding on ice. Let's just say it made me ashamed that I'm singing her part in the Deer's Cry. But I suppose she's a professional singer for a reason.
Tuesday, after a failed lunch in the Buttery with Nicole (very expensive for not so great food), I had my first Shakespeare tutorial. It was...interesting. There are only 10 people in my tutorial (which means I can't miss ANY or my grade gets lowered...) and they are all. So. Irish. I haven't interacted with Irish people all that much, aside from Eoghan and Daragh and a couple girls in Dr. Horrible. I was surprised to learn that Irish people are different from Americans. I guess I should have known that.
But it hit me very hard in the tutorial. Most of them were nearly silent, and when they did speak, their uncertain, shy answer seemed so charming and intelligent. Not fair. This one boy (guy? man? I don't know what's appropriate to call a 20 year old) was the most intellectual person I've ever met. He had on grandpa loafers, striped, earth-tone socks, and corduroys. Very dark hair, lots of scruff, attractive. Very, very, very serious. Had an intensely proper (nearly English) Irish accent. His brow (yes, his brow) was constantly furrowed (yes, furrowed) as he answered questions with confidence, forced-humbleness, and an "I'd like to explore this complex issue further..." sort of attitude. He challenged all of his classmates about their responses to questions (including me).
I do not like this boy.
At one point, our professor had us read a scene out loud. This boy (man, guy, manchild, what have you) was the male lead Petruchio. He and another girl read the scene with little emotion or expression, and yet it was one of the most natural, moving readings of a Shakespeare scene I've seen. People with accents have all the luck!! Shakespeare just seems to fall so naturally into the British (and I guess Irish) accent. I don't think the Scots can pull it off too well though. Ok, I got a little off topic. That night I had theology (eh) and a little make-shift dinner with Siomha and Mike back in our flat. Mike had me listen to the song we're going to be performing for Thanksgiving mass. All Notre Dame kids are invited to a fancy shmancy Thanksgiving dinner at the Merrion Hotel, held by the Naughton Family (the OWNERS of the hotel. no big deal). He let me know that I was going to be singing the soprano part. Alone. So, I better start warming up. Now.
Wednesday, I did some much need shopping with Nicole. We looked like big goons walking through grafton st. with huge shopping bags. I've noticed that people in Dublin just walk any which way they please. In America (oh how I miss thee), we all know to walk on the right side of the sidewalk. In Dublin, I THINK the rule is the left. However, either they break this rule all the time, or there are just SO many tourists and international people that the rule has essentially been demolished. Walking on the sidewalk has become a video game, ducking in and out and around and speeding up and slowing down. With shopping bags...well... the video game becomes that much harder.
After I conquered the video game, I exercised for the FOURTH time since I've been in Dublin. Pathetic. I'll go more now that things have settled down. Then I had to run to rehearsal...I had a lot of fun. But the musical director doesn't know how to run a rehearsal, and the director is still just...weird. I miss Mark Wurzelbacher and Brian Davenport oh so much. Anyways, I'm one of the groupies in the song 'Perfect Story.' I'm singing the low alto part. High soprano one day and low alto the next! Craziness, I tell you! If you want to watch a little of the show, here you go. I'm the gay guy. Yep.
On Thursday we had our first rehearsal for the Deer's Cry at the O'Connell house. It went well... but slowly. After rehearsal, I hurried back to Trinity to meet my friend and her family. They wanted to check out the Book of Kells, and as I hadn't seen it yet, I was more than happy to be their free ticket! Felt pretty cool to flash the Trinity student ID and march in there for free, a parade of people trailing behind me. The Book of Kells was cool, but the library is what stunned me. I was suddenly in Harry Potter. I was in the library in Beauty and the Beast. I was transported back in time, to 250 years ago. It was dark, ancient, mysterious, and HUGE. If Trinity students were still allowed to study there, I would do nothing else but study. Unfortunately all the books are roped off. Everything preserved for the public. If you want to read a book from the Old Library, there's a little reading room for people to go sit in. You request a book (you have to have a very good reason to read that book). The librarian puts on gloves. Then she climbs all the ladders, sliding around like Belle in the Beauty and the Beast or Olivander in his wandshop in Harry Potter. She brings you the book. You are allotted two hours to read the book. Then she puts it back for you. CRAZY. I can't imagine the day when Trinity students were actually allowed to study in there, peruse the bookshelves whenever they liked. So many things happened in that library. Charles Stewart Parnell was secretly sworn into the Irish Republican Brotherhood in that library. The library houses one of 10 original copies of the Irish Declaration of Independence. Walking through that library, cursing the swarms of tourist invading MY library, I couldn't believe that I'm actually attending Trinity College.
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| I did not take this picture. You are not allowed to take pictures. Plus, this picture is way to incredible to have been taken by me. |
To end the evening, I went back to my place to meet up with Nicole and a couple UCD girls. Caroline and I were just going to have a few drinks, then meet up with the Canadian guys we met in Edinburgh, since they were flying in that night to spend the weekend in Dublin. After a couple bottles of wine and lots of laughter, I looked up to see that there were THREE Trinity cops standing outside my door. Siomha and I went over to talk to them. The assholes (sorry) said that they could hear us all the way from the Front Gate, and that we were a "disturbance." One cop said "You need to register parties." I told him that there were only 5 people over (excluding me and Siomha) and the windows were wide open, which is probably why they heard us from so far away. He asked me if everyone in the room was a Trinity student.
I responded "I think so," thinking he'd say, "Okay, well then keep it down."
But no, he said "Are you sure, because I'm about to go check their IDs."
Whoops! Time for me to backpedal. "Oh, well a few of them are friends of friends, so I'm not positive that they go here" (nice one Clare).
So one of the cops went to check IDs, and the other two cops decided to be mean to me.
"So, before, you were lying?"
"No, I said they're friends of friends. I'm not sure if they go here or not."
"So you don't know where your friends go to school."
"No, sir." Anyway, the big bad cops informed me that NO non-Trinity students are allowed to be on campus after midnight. WHAT THE HECK!? Is this Notre Dame all over again? Instead of guy-parietals, it's non-trinity-student-parietals. Not cool. Really not cool. It was 4 Trinity students and 3 UCD students having wine and talking. Call the police!!! I guess when they say "No overnight guests" they mean "No guests past midnight." I'm going to suggest they clarify that rule. After getting very angry about the fact that I'm going to school at the Ireland version of Notre Dame (kidding, kind of), Caroline and Nicole and I still went out and tried to salvage the night with the Canadian guys. We stayed up much too late, considering we were about to embark on a roadtrip to Cork at 9am the next morning...
Four hours after I went to sleep, I heard an alarm going off. Terrified that it was a fire alarm, I jumped out of bed. Then, the alarm seemed much quieter. It was just my alarm clock. Oh. Ok. I collapsed back on the bed and pressed snooze. It went off again. I freaked out again. This cycle continued another 3 times. Then I woke up. A complete zombie, I got dressed, burned a couple of CDs for the trip, drank some much needed water, and headed out in the crisp October morning to meet Caroline and the guys. The car was tiny. My long legs were unhappy. At first I thought this trip might be as horrible as the hung-over bus experience. But it was actually wonderful. I miss driving in my car so much. Such a smooth beautiful drive, watching the Irish countryside fly by and listening to great music. When we were about a half hour outside of Cork, in the beautiful country, miles from civilization, I started to regret drinking that entire bottle of water. Jayme, handling the stick shift and wrong-side-of-the-road driving with perfect ease, was also regretting his water-chugging. We were both dying. Once we got inside Cork, we were desperate to find parking. But the world decided to laugh at us. It took nearly another half an hour to navigate the city. The traffic was crazy, with a high population of old-man taxi drivers with thick accents that park in the middle of one way streets just to have a little chat with the cab driver next to them. All I can say is I've never been so relieved to see the "Toilets" On our way out of the mini-mall near the parking lot (feeling much happier and in much less pain) Matt discovered a claw vending machine thing filled with HUGE lollipops inside. Between the two of them, Jayme and Matt spent about 5 euro trying to grab one.
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| "Oooh THE CLAWW" (5 points if you know what movie that's from) |
Jayme came dangerously close once, but after being lifted a couple inches off the ground, the lollipop slipped from the giant claw and crashed to the ground. I let out a high pitched scream of anguish, causing several heads to turn. We decided in was time to leave the mini-mall and actually GO OUTSIDE and see Cork. We explored the town, filled with pastel houses and beautiful bridges. It is an odd mix between Dublin and downtown Belfast. A little cleaner, a little shinier, a little more space. But still with the Dublin feel. After lunch, we explored the Holy Trinity Church and Fenor's Cathedral. Both were spectacular. I've learned that there are two main tourist attractions in Ireland: Castles and Churches. But hey, I'm not complaining! Realizing it was almost 2:30, we started our journey to Blarney. We were all feeling the exhaustion (especially after our lunch) so the guys convinced me to (dun dun DUN) have my first red bull. I was uneasy. I thought "I kind of have a headache right now. How will this help?" I'd never had red bull before (except when it was accompanied by jager) but I gave into the peer pressure. And ya know what? It was a miracle cure. I'm obsessed.
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| St. Finbar's Cathedral |
Feeling much more alive, we headed to Blarney. The castle is beautiful! I didn't even realize how wonderful Blarney castle was, since the stone is the main attraction. But enjoyed exploring the cave and dungeon (Jayme went all the way into dark, 3 foot high dungeon alone...a brave soul). Every room of the castle was a seemed to hold a memory, a piece of history. As we visited each room and climbed higher and higher up the winding staircase, my excitement mounted. I wanted to kiss the stone already! Finally I got to. It was much more organized than I envisioned it. They had a little clorox bottle there, in case someone did something stupid to/on the stone. They had two guys supervising--one taking a picture of you, and one making sure you didn't fall down into the gap between the stone and the castle. Very organized. And very anti-climactic. But still nice to say I did it!
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| Blarney Castle |
We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the grounds...visiting the Blarney mansion, climbing trees, frolicking in the rare and wonderful sunshine. Then, after another Red Bull (I'm telling you, it's fantastic), we headed on the 3rd part of the road trip. We had dinner in Kilkenny at a traditional, Irish...Steakhouse. Okay, so it wasn't very Irish. But it was delicious. And it was one of the only places still open! Kilkenny seems like a very sleepy town. Everywhere was closed by 7:30 on a Friday night. After eating far too much food (and paying too much...) it was 9:00. We were all exhausted and ready for the drive home. Driving down the highway in the dark, in sleepy silence, 'Disco Inferno' came on the radio. The car ride became a whole lot more fun. Jayme and Matt both started subtly bopping their heads. Then they started bouncing their knees. Then they were full on jamming. And singing. Rather poorly. Caroline and I could not stop laughing. If that wasn't enough, 'Don't Go Breakin My Heart' came on next, and Matt and I entertained the car with a little duet. The 70s music just kept coming. It was a wonderful end to the evening. But by 10:30, the music had ended, and we were finally back in Dublin. Caroline didn't want to deal with the bus shenanigans, so the guys offered to try to find UCD and drop her off. I asked them to drop me off at Trinity first. Thank goodness I did, because they didn't get back to city center until 12:15!!! I knew that would happen. The city is pretty hard to navigate if you don't know where you're going. I met them for a couple of drinks at the Porter house, and (fate!) Woodsey, Norah's favorite live music act from her time in Ireland, was playing the late night show. When I realized it was him, I asked him for a photograph, and he heartily agreed. I told him my sister and all her friends were big fans. Then he pretended he knew her ("Norah Cooney...that sounds familiar..."). Maybe Norah is just really memorable! :)
Saturday, I woke up around 11 to find a text from Matt asking if I'd take the guys to see the Book of Kells. I took them, mostly because I wanted to see the Old Library again! After I gave them a little tour of Trinity, we grabbed lunch at Cornucopia. I spent the rest of my afternoon trying to get my room in order before I went to a Joshua Radin concert with Nicole. I fell in love. Beautiful voice, honest lyrics, great sense of humor, and humble as all get out. He only started playing guitar and writing music about 6 years ago, which is pretty inspiring. There is still hope for me! Maybe one day I'll try writing music. I feel like I have things to say, things to write, if I just let myself try. After the concert ended at 10:30, Nicole and I went to Peadar Kearney's to meet the Notre Dame kids (ND won, woo!) and Matt and Jayme one last time. It was my friend Dave's birthday at midnight, so we had to make the most of the hour. After the birthday boy and I won a game of beer pong, we all made friends with the bartender and played countless Beatles songs on the jukebox. We closed the bar (the bartender gave us free shots as a parting gift) and called it a night.
Now, time for reality. I spent all of Sunday studying, and it was not fun. But I'm getting back in the groove. I just desperately need a massage (Norah, where are you?)... my back hurts in just about every which way I lay or sit, which makes doing homework extremely difficult.
If you made it to the end of this blog post, I congratulate you. Whoever you are, thanks for caring :)
Goodnight,
Clare Mairead
Sunday, October 17, 2010
me talk pretty one day...
I'm a week behind, but I have a test tomorrow, so I'm going to have to postpone writing a fun-filled blog entry until sometime tomorrow or Tuesday. But I figured I'd write a little something anyways, even though it's not Ireland related.
I realized the other day that I have not stuttered, at all, in over 3 months. I kind of forgot that I'm a stutterer. I think that's a pretty cool accomplishment.
:)
Clare
I realized the other day that I have not stuttered, at all, in over 3 months. I kind of forgot that I'm a stutterer. I think that's a pretty cool accomplishment.
:)
Clare
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Edinburgh > Dublin (sorry Dublin...)
Completely exhausted (and completely relieved that our rickety, 1970s, mustard-colored-seats Ryan Air flight didn't crash) we landed in beautiful Edinburgh on Thursday morning. It was nearing 10 o'clock and pitch black outside, but we could still see the bright lights of the Episcopal church, the Parliament building, and the great Edinburgh castle from our hostel. Caledonian backpackers was a very young, very bohemian kinda place. I suppose most hostels are. But this one seemed like the kind you'd see in the movies--dreadlocks all over the place, murals and neon colors on every wall, creepy Italian men telling you it's their birthday, a bunch of Spanish kids playing drunk jenga. They had a huge bar area (one or two pounds for basically any drink you like), a computer room with free wifi, breakfast in the AM...it all seemed great. Then we walked into our bedroom and remembered that it's a hostel. Which means 8 people sleeping in one room. Which means three Italian men walking around in their underwear. It also means a 40 year old African man with horrible BO. Ok, enough about the hostel. Let's just say Caroline and I took great care to lock up all of our belongings every night.
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| Edinburgh Castle |
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| I couldn't get a picture that did it justice, so I had to steal one online. |
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| Beautiful St. Giles For dinner we met up with my old friend Jane! It was wonderful to see her. After experiencing Edinburgh in person, I couldn't help but be jealous of her decision to go abroad for all four years of college. She walked around the castles and cathedrals like it was nothing. She didn't stop to gaze at the beautiful shops or cafes along the way. When (IF!!) she ever returns home to Michigan, she is going to be sorely disappointed. Jane seemed so adjusted, mature, artsy, EUROPEAN. Caroline and I kept whispering "she's what I aspire to be...." Her sophisticated apartment inspired me to fix up my little Trinity flat. Kind of. As I'm typing this, there are crumbs on the kitchen table and 10 shirts thrown on the carpet in my room (sorry mom). |
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| Janie! The three of us went out with some of Jane's fellow jewelry majors and had a swell time. Caroline and I kept pulling out our cameras to take pictures of Edinburgh at night, but as the night went on the pictures became more and more out of focus..... The best part of the night, though, was the club we ended up at. I figured it would be the typical sweaty club that played the same top 40 pop songs on repeat. But NO! They had a Motown night. So much fun. I'm determined to host a Motown party (yes Pat, I'm shamelessly copying off the Motown Get-Down party you and your friends had), because Motown is so much more fun to dance to! |
The next morning (or I should say, 4 hours later...) we weren't feeling so good. It was 7am, we were exhausted, we were hungover, and we had to rush off to the Royal Mile to catch a tour of the highlands. A BUS tour of the highlands. Hangover+no sleep+sugary coffee+a TINY, shaky, bright orange bus=an uncomfortable Clare. Caroline and I had to laugh at how miserable the two of us looked whenever the bus hit a little bump in the road. But at least we still kept our sense of humor, right?
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| Honk if you're Horny The day was still wonderful though. Whenever we got OUT of the bus and hit the cool air, we were wide awake and ready to welcome the spectacular sights before us. Whenever we were ON the bus, we conked out. We took a couple beautiful hikes, saw the castle where Monty Python was filmed (I laughed at a couple people who were awkwardly banging coconuts together) and searched the beautiful highlands for "Hairy Coos." The Hairy Coo, besides being the name of the "Alternative Tours" company we were traveling with, is Scotland's favorite animal. I don't really get it. But they are pretty cute. |
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| Beautiful Caroline, Beautiful Highlands |
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| sup |
The tour was wonderful, but a little too long. NINE hours in total. (Driving there, stopping to see things on the way, lunch, highlands, hairy coos, stopping on the way back, etc). However, our tour-guide driver dude had the best accent, played hilarious music, and....was wearing kilt. So it was all worth it. When we finally got back to Edinburgh, Caroline and I power-walked to our hostel, got dressed, ate some surprisingly delicious Mexican food, and went to the first stop on our evening pub crawl.
There are SO many australians in Edinburgh. In all of Europe, really. Tons of college grads just living it up and traveling Europe for a couple months--such a different way of life than I'm used to. Very different from the go-go-go get a job-money-career mindset the U.S. promotes. We made friends with a couple Canadian guys that go to Nicole's school, and will probably meet up with them this weekend when they come to Dublin. We also met two guys dressed as Mario and Luigi...apparently they've been touring Europe for a month, and have been wearing the same clothes every night for...a month. Badass.
Everyone on the pub crawl was so friendly, which made for a great night. Money very well spent. My favorite place was, surprisingly, a horror themed bar called Frankenstein. Edinburgh really takes pride in being the most haunted city in the world...
The last day in Edinburgh was slower than the first two. We visited the National Gallery for an hour, met Jane for coffee at the most wonderful little place called Forrest Cafe, and window shopped and explored the streets of the Royal Mile. Before dinner, we checked out the infamous Mary King's Close. Mary King's Close consists of four closes (narrow streets separating tenements) that were partially destroyed and sealed up to make way for the Royal Exchange building in 1753. The tenements in the close had been 7 stories high, built along the side of the huge hill leading up to what is now the Royal Mile. Basically, the city knocked down the buildings near the top of the hill, sliced off a couple stories in the middle, and kept the tenements near the bottom of the hill perfectly preserved. Then they used the houses for a foundation and built the Royal Exchange building (now the City Chambers) on top of the tenements. Now, living in a spooky, underground city with minimal daylight, poor air circulation, and hundreds of people quarantined with the plague was not the best living situation. So slowly but surely, all the inhabitants moved out. We're left with a perfectly preserved, horribly spooky, underground city. HOW COOL. Unfortunately, it cost 10 euro. It would have been worth it...except for the fact that 3 Italian girls and their mother kept speaking, very loudly, throughout the entire tour. Kind of took away from whole spooky, we're exploring an underground city where hundreds of people have lived and died of the plague kinda thing.
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| Mary King's Close. To end the trip, Caroline and I reunited with Maisie and had a bite to eat at the Elephant House Cafe, where JK Rowling first scribbled her thoughts for Harry Potter on a napkin. The cafe has a spectacular view of the castle--it was very fun to look out of the window and imagine JK Rowling doing the same. HOWEVER, the food was mediocre. If anyone goes, just stop in to get a coffee and a millionaire's shortbread (oh my GOSH, it was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted). |
Going back to Dublin was surreal. Maybe it's just because I saw Jane, so I felt like I was getting a little piece of home, but I when I was on the plane, I really felt like I was heading home to Michigan to see my family. I forgot that Dublin is my "home" for the moment. It's nice to be back....but I sure miss having a castle right in my backyard.
Cheerio,
Clare Mairead
p.s. Scottish girls say "hiya!" for hello and "cheerio" for goodbye. How cute.
p.p.s. I learned SO MUCH history on this trip. For those who are interested....
HISTORY HIGHLIGHTS:
-One of the mausoleums in the graveyard holds the body of Bloody William Mackenzie. He not only hung 100 covenanters at random, but he imprisoned the other thousand or so covenanters unless they agreed to convert. They were put in an outdoor prison. No roof, no floors, forced to endure the brutal Scotland winter. And it was right next to the graveyard, so as each man died, they simply buried him right there. The worse part, however, was that each man was not allowed to move while he slept. If he twitched, rolled over, changed positions, or even breathed too heavily, then the guards would kill the prisoner NEXT to him. So the man that moved would have to live with the guilt of killing another man for the rest of his life.
--There was this little Scottie who was so devoted to his owner that, when the man died, the Scottie sat by his owner’s grave for 14 years. The people in the city brought the dog food and water and he came to be known as Greyfriar’s Bobby.
SO CUTE. I hoping Ollie does the same for me, but somehow I doubt it…
-There is a huge stone heart in the middle of town where the prison/taxpayers area used to be. Everyone spits on it to this day to show disrespect for authority. Pretty cool. Except that it’s constantly covered in saliva. Apparently, some romantic idiot, ignorant of the history behind it, proposed to his girlfriend right on the heart. When he stood up, I bet his knee was a little damp.
-Doctor’s are called “quacks” because the plague doctors wore a beak shaped mask. Terrifying.
-Mary Queen of Scots was beheaded not one, not two, but three times. When her cousin, Queen Elizabeth, sentenced her to death (harsh…) they wanted to make it quick and clean and painless. But the executioner…missed. He sliced off the very tip of the top of her head. She was still alive. Then he actually hit the mark, but…it didn’t go through all the way. Then he tried a third time and sliced AT HER SHOULDERS. If that wasn’t enough, when he grabbed her head by the hair to hold it up and show the city, she was wearing a WIG. So, he raised her wig up in the air, and her head and shoulders rolled down the steps towards the people. How awful!!
-Maggie Dickson was married to a horrible man. Apparently, during their marriage, she had an affair with an innkeeper and became pregnant. Terrified of what might happen if she was found out, she kept the baby a secret. The stress of concealing her pregnancy resulted in a miscarriage. So she went to the banks of the North Lake and buried it (side note: North lake was the most DISGUSTING lake ever...it was located at the bottom of the hill, so everyone's, um, waste was washed into the lake by the rain. They drained the lake and it is now the most fertile park in the country--Princes Street Gardens). Somehow the baby was found and traced back to her, and she was found guilty of "Concealment of Pregnancy" (what kind of law is that??) and hanged in Grassmarket. She was completely dead, examined carefully, etc. But when they were driving down the road to take her to the graveyard, they heard a noise coming from the coffin in the back. She was aliiiiiveee!! Some people suspect that the cobblestone streets they were driving on acted as some sort of defibrillator. I'm not sure if that's possible, but it's a pretty cool concept. Anyways, they didn't hang her again because she had been "Hung by the neck until dead." She just had come back to life after! So she had served her "punishment" and was free. She ALSO, was divorced!..."Until death do us part." So she married the innkeeper, had children, and lived another 40 years. Pretty nifty, huh?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Settling down
The days pass so quickly here. At Notre Dame, everyday felt like a battle. Wake up, late to class, class, shove some food in my mouth, Class, Workout, Eat, Rehearsal, Homework/Procrastination in Lafun, bedtime--then it all began again the next day. Here, I usually have two classes a day. Everything feels so spaced out. This may be, in part, due to the fact that I'm not rehearsing four hours a night (and I'm not doing all that much homework yet...) but I find it so refreshing. I hope the feeling lasts. I thought I'd be very eager to jump right into theatre here, but maybe I need to give myself a break. I'm in EUROPE, and I need to SEE it!
Last night I went to O'Donaghue's and listened to some wonderful live Irish music. The guitar player was incredible. I've never seen someone play that hard and that FAST before. I was mesmerized, I really couldn't take my eyes off his hands. There was a wonderful banjo player there as well...made me miss kelly. I really liked their style and the songs they chose to play, and I had had a couple drinks so 10 euro sounded cheap (never mind the fact that it's about 14 american dollars) so I bought their CD as a birthday present to my dad! So, dad, if you're reading, happy birthday! I'm trying to figure out how to mail things...if I get a little padded envelope, it really shouldn't be all that bad.
Today is the one month anniversary of my adventures in Ireland. I was on a plane heading to Dublin on September 6th. That's so crazy to think about! I feel so adjusted now...the homesickness has worn off (mostly), I'm not as freaked out by the landscape of the big city, the classes are slowly but surely getting organized...
I'm leaving for Edinburgh in 30 hours! Woo! I need to figure out buses, maps, walking tours! I need to PACK!
Love,
Clare Mairead
p.s. I haven't heard any news about the gunshots we heard in Derry, but on Monday, there was a car bomb about 5 blocks away from the hotel we stayed at in Derry. Thankfully no one was killed. Pretty scary stuff.
Last night I went to O'Donaghue's and listened to some wonderful live Irish music. The guitar player was incredible. I've never seen someone play that hard and that FAST before. I was mesmerized, I really couldn't take my eyes off his hands. There was a wonderful banjo player there as well...made me miss kelly. I really liked their style and the songs they chose to play, and I had had a couple drinks so 10 euro sounded cheap (never mind the fact that it's about 14 american dollars) so I bought their CD as a birthday present to my dad! So, dad, if you're reading, happy birthday! I'm trying to figure out how to mail things...if I get a little padded envelope, it really shouldn't be all that bad.
Today is the one month anniversary of my adventures in Ireland. I was on a plane heading to Dublin on September 6th. That's so crazy to think about! I feel so adjusted now...the homesickness has worn off (mostly), I'm not as freaked out by the landscape of the big city, the classes are slowly but surely getting organized...
I'm leaving for Edinburgh in 30 hours! Woo! I need to figure out buses, maps, walking tours! I need to PACK!
Love,
Clare Mairead
p.s. I haven't heard any news about the gunshots we heard in Derry, but on Monday, there was a car bomb about 5 blocks away from the hotel we stayed at in Derry. Thankfully no one was killed. Pretty scary stuff.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
A stone's throw away
I'm tempted to emphasize how AWESOME my weekend was, but it seems odd to describe it in those terms. The entire ND troupe traveled to Northern Ireland, and we had a beautiful, fascinating, but emotionally exhausting weekend. My mom said, in a slightly flamboyant email, "have fun dodging bullets in belfast! JK."--but had no idea that we would all, in fact, hear two gunshots over the course of the weekend.
Friday morning we made our way to Belfast. First we explored the "Troubles" exhibit in the Ulster Museum--I'm so glad we did. I had heard of the Troubles, knew the tensions that existed in Northern Ireland, and had heard of ongoing violence between the Catholics and the Protestants. But I had no idea what we were getting into that weekend. I had no idea that nearly 4,000 people died in 25 years, or that so many innocent people were arrested, tortured, or worse. "The Troubles," in my mind, were a thing of the past. But they "ended" just 13 years ago, and strong divisions still exist today.
On to Stormont, the Parliament buildings. The Northern Ireland government is more inefficient than I could have imagined. There are two ministers--First Minister and deputy First Minister. One nationalist (Sinn Fein) and one Unionist. The Assembly has 5 different political parties making decisions. They've passed something like 32 laws in the past 6 years. Can you imagine having Republican and Democrat co-presidents? Nothing would ever get done. But they feel that this is the only solution to keeping the country at relative peace. We met with first advisor to deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness...Kevin gave him a run for his money. I guess Kevin believes that the only way to get a spontaneous, truthful reaction out of a politician is to provoke him. And provoke him he did. Not only did he confront the man, but he made his argument personal: "YOU plunged this country into this mess," "how can members of the IRA be running this country," "Don't you feel like a hypocrite," "because of YOU we are farther from a United Ireland than ever before."
The guy certainly got a little annoyed (and he sent Kevin a couple jabs in return, making it perfectly clear he thought Kevin was ignorant and overly-emotional) but he handled himself like an articulate politician and explained as best he could how difficult the situation was on everyone. The entire Notre Dame group was blushing, eyeing each other, holding our faces in our hands. It was so uncomfortable! But we survived it unscathed and didn't get thrown out of the parliament building. Kevin is probably more on the Sinn Fein side of things, but apparently he just wanted to play Devil's Advocate.
To cap the whole thing off, we gave the man a gift....A FIGHTING IRISH t-shirt. If we felt uncomfortable before, we felt positively ashamed and embarrassed. COME ON Notre Dame you're going to give a guy from Northern Ireland a fighting Irish t-shirt?? Kevin chuckled. The man didn't think it was too funny. He made it very clear he'd be rooting for Boston College in the game that night. Oops. (But Notre Dame won, SUCK IT PAT!)
Friday morning we made our way to Belfast. First we explored the "Troubles" exhibit in the Ulster Museum--I'm so glad we did. I had heard of the Troubles, knew the tensions that existed in Northern Ireland, and had heard of ongoing violence between the Catholics and the Protestants. But I had no idea what we were getting into that weekend. I had no idea that nearly 4,000 people died in 25 years, or that so many innocent people were arrested, tortured, or worse. "The Troubles," in my mind, were a thing of the past. But they "ended" just 13 years ago, and strong divisions still exist today.
On to Stormont, the Parliament buildings. The Northern Ireland government is more inefficient than I could have imagined. There are two ministers--First Minister and deputy First Minister. One nationalist (Sinn Fein) and one Unionist. The Assembly has 5 different political parties making decisions. They've passed something like 32 laws in the past 6 years. Can you imagine having Republican and Democrat co-presidents? Nothing would ever get done. But they feel that this is the only solution to keeping the country at relative peace. We met with first advisor to deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness...Kevin gave him a run for his money. I guess Kevin believes that the only way to get a spontaneous, truthful reaction out of a politician is to provoke him. And provoke him he did. Not only did he confront the man, but he made his argument personal: "YOU plunged this country into this mess," "how can members of the IRA be running this country," "Don't you feel like a hypocrite," "because of YOU we are farther from a United Ireland than ever before."
The guy certainly got a little annoyed (and he sent Kevin a couple jabs in return, making it perfectly clear he thought Kevin was ignorant and overly-emotional) but he handled himself like an articulate politician and explained as best he could how difficult the situation was on everyone. The entire Notre Dame group was blushing, eyeing each other, holding our faces in our hands. It was so uncomfortable! But we survived it unscathed and didn't get thrown out of the parliament building. Kevin is probably more on the Sinn Fein side of things, but apparently he just wanted to play Devil's Advocate.
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| Not cool. |
After a snack in beautiful downtown Belfast, we made our way to Derry (officially Londonderry, but the Catholics and IRA guys we were chillin with would kill me if I called it Londonderry...).
After the most delicious burger in my entire life at the Ramore Wine Bar (who knew tobasco onions and pepper sauce made such a fantastic combo?), we dropped our stuff off at the Sheep Island View hostel in Ballintoy and went on to find a good pub. Kevin Whelan was hellbent on hearing me sing that night. There was a cheesy guitar player at the pub, and Kevin asked him if he'd let me sing a song. Mind you, he didn't ask me first if I even wanted to sing!! So...I refused. Not the time at all. So then he recruited a couple other Notre Dame kids to join me. "WIll you sing now??" he asked. Then I felt horrible for being shy and not being better craic. I agreed to sing with the group...and someone chose Country Roads, a song I barely know the chorus of. It was a relatively horrible rendition, but at least it was over quickly.
After the song, around midnight, Kevin Whelan gathered up a few followers to explore the dark beach in Ballintoy. It was the most beautiful, black night, with thousands of bright stars. I've never seen so many. When we first made it down to the beach, we grouped together and stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at the sky. Suddenly a shooting star flew across the sky, and in perfect unison, we broke the silence with shouts and laughs and "woahs!" Next, still determined to hear me sing, Kevin said "Alright then Clare, let's hear a song. It's the perfect time now, ya can't say no. Just sing a song, any old thing." Last thing I wanted to do, but I sang "The Park" by Fiest. It was a good one to sing...everyone just staring at the stars, no movement or noise at all except for the ocean and my voice. I must have sounded pretty good because everyone was blown away and wanted to give me a hug! So that felt nice. The rest of the night we all sang little songs (Kevin Whelan enthusiastically joined in) and walked around the cliffs and looked at the dozens of shooting stars. Such a peaceful, idyllic night.
Saturday morning we woke up, exhausted, and hurried to the bus to see the giant's causeway (the 4th greatest natural wonder in the UK). We hopped off the bus, rounded the corner, and couldn't believe our eyes. I'm never going to the cliffs of Moher again, I'm bringing people here. Such intense green, such beautiful cliffs, not to mention the actual causeway itself. Ok, here's the legend: Fionn McCool built the causeway (bridge) in order to walk over to Scotland and fight with the giant Benadonner. But when he saw how much larger Benadonner was than himself, he hurried back home. Afraid Benadonner would follow him, his wife dressed him up as a baby and put a blanket around him. When Benadonner arrived looking for Fionn, he saw how huge their child was, and ran away in fear of how giant the father must be, apparently breaking the bridge as he went.
So now all we have left are hundreds of perfectly interlocking stones, forming their own little game of tetris (after I typed the word tetris, i wasted 20 minutes of my life playing it online. high score: 3,079). The real history behind the mystery of the causeway involves a volcanic eruption, contraction, heating/cooling of lava, etc. WHATEVER. It's pretty hard to imagine the causeway being made by nature. The stepping stones rise and fall and interlock beautifully, with each stone in a nearly perfect hexagonal shape. The more raised stones look like perfectly parallel columns, forming a staircase up to the sky.
After Kevin Whelan gave a 20 minute sermon on enjoying nature/travel/appreciating life/living in the moment, we spent another hour hiking around the area, climbing little cliffs, enjoying the view. We drove to downtown Derry for a Field Day Conference at the Playhouse. We didn't really know what "Field Day" was, and I don't think any of us really know now. Kevin must have given a little explanation on the bus ride over, but we were all sound asleep. Therefore, when Seamus Dean (a wonderful author who wrote Reading in the Dark) spoke to us about the Field Day Production company and its affects on Northern Ireland, etc, we were all left in the dark. Plus, we were still exhausted. So there I sat, 10 feet away from a relatively famous writer (not to mention inches away from the actor Stephen Rea) and I could not, for the life of me, keep my eyes open. I don't think I ever fell asleep. But it was a struggle. The entire time I kept thinking "Okay, this is really interesting, you want to hear this, come on, please don't fall asleep," but my eyes weren't agreeing with me. Oh well. (side note: When I was in the bathroom before the lecture began, two older women asked "Are you a Notre Dame student? Coming to see Seamus?" When I answered yes, they told me "We are Seamus' sisters, we are." It didn't hit me until later that those women were either Ellis, Una, or Dierdre, the women I had read about in the book. How cool!)
After an hour of struggling, he ended his lecture. Stephen Rea joined him on stage for a little talk-back. Through listening to people's comments (artists and members of the Derry community all flocked to the lecture), I learned that Field Day was a theatre company that formed as a reaction to the Troubles. Stephen Rea and a playwright called Brian Frield presented a play called Translations. Apparently the play and the theatre company were groundbreaking. People spoke of how the first performance was "magical" and how for 20 years Field Day replaced the Abbey as Ireland's national theatre. The plays must have continued from there (but I don't know for sure since they never explained what the heck Field Day was!) and included authors like Seamus Dean and Seamus Heaney. They kept the theatre company in this tiny, country town, right in one of the hotspots of The Troubles. The people in Derry spoke of Field Day as though it were a miracle. Apparently it sparked further creative and cultural experiments in Derry, and Derry has developed one of the most active cultural and theatrical cities in Northern Ireland.
Afterwards, Seamus Dean and Stephen Rea both came back to the Tower Hotel in Derry where all the ND students were staying. It was supposed to be a little reception, with a bit more of a question/answer session if we took the initiative. Even though there was champagne provided for us, all the Notre Dame students were, of course, told we could not drink it because Notre Dame was technically paying for it, and they were not allowed to give alcohol to students. Silly. At one point Kevin Whelan and Stephen Rea were having a chat, and Kevin called me over. I don't know, Kevin must think I'm this incredibly brilliant actress/singer, because he wanted me to talk to Stephen personally. I didn't know what to say! But luckily they were already in a conversation about musicals in which the actors play their own instruments, and how stephen is thinking of doing such a musical in 2013. I had something to add to the conversation, thankfully, and I talked about the Broadway revival of Company in which the actors played their own instruments (thank you brian davenport). Anyways, for a while in was just me, Kevin, and Stephen talking with about 15 students surrounding us listening, but later others joined in. Stephen asked if I played any instruments, how long I was going to be here...he mentioned that he was thinking of casting NOW. I answered his questions hurriedly, well aware that he was not going to cast me in his show!! But it was still nice that he asked.
That night we all just went to a pub in Derry, but I was pretty exhausted so I chose NOT to stay up until 5am to watch Notre Dame beat BC. The next morning started with a walking tour of Derry, led by Seamus Dean's brother Eamon. Very early on in the tour, we heard a loud shot. Probably a car backfiring, right? But then we heard another. Eamon stopped talking, looked around, and said "well...those were two high velocity shots. Someone's in trouble." He explained that those shots were either a Target shooting (perhaps someone the "Real" IRA, as they call themselves, has been pursuing), or a Punishment shooting, where a man gets kneecapped (shot in both knees). Pretty damn scary. The entire group was perrrrtty jumpy for the rest of the day.
Eamon showed us around town a bit. There is a beautiful World Wars memorial in the center of the town. It had been graffitied and abused for years and years, since it was a symbol of Britain in a lot of ways. It got to the point where they had to put a gate around the statue at night. Finally, they realized something had to be done. They traced back hundreds of names on the monument to find out if they had any relative still living in Derry. And they did. Dozens of families came forth to support the statue and remind the Nationalists in Derry that the World War monument is about the people who died, not the British government. From that day onward, there have been no further attempts to hurt the statue.
I learned that Derry was quite instrumental in the Troubles. It resisted internment in a way that no other town did, leading to the Battle of the Bogside where the residents of the city WON and the police were withdrawn. To celebrate that victory, there are signs and murals all over proclaiming "Free Derry." But it's not entirely Nationalist. There is still a very small pocket of Unionist families, all living in one specific corner of the town. On the protestant side, there are British flags and "warning signs" everywhere.
p.s. Feel free to read my review of The Plough and the Stars
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| Beautiful scenery outside our restaurant outside near Ballintoy. |
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| My friend Kyle looking pensive... |
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| Mary and Maisie rock climbing |
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| See those columns? Totally made by a giant. |
After an hour of struggling, he ended his lecture. Stephen Rea joined him on stage for a little talk-back. Through listening to people's comments (artists and members of the Derry community all flocked to the lecture), I learned that Field Day was a theatre company that formed as a reaction to the Troubles. Stephen Rea and a playwright called Brian Frield presented a play called Translations. Apparently the play and the theatre company were groundbreaking. People spoke of how the first performance was "magical" and how for 20 years Field Day replaced the Abbey as Ireland's national theatre. The plays must have continued from there (but I don't know for sure since they never explained what the heck Field Day was!) and included authors like Seamus Dean and Seamus Heaney. They kept the theatre company in this tiny, country town, right in one of the hotspots of The Troubles. The people in Derry spoke of Field Day as though it were a miracle. Apparently it sparked further creative and cultural experiments in Derry, and Derry has developed one of the most active cultural and theatrical cities in Northern Ireland.
Afterwards, Seamus Dean and Stephen Rea both came back to the Tower Hotel in Derry where all the ND students were staying. It was supposed to be a little reception, with a bit more of a question/answer session if we took the initiative. Even though there was champagne provided for us, all the Notre Dame students were, of course, told we could not drink it because Notre Dame was technically paying for it, and they were not allowed to give alcohol to students. Silly. At one point Kevin Whelan and Stephen Rea were having a chat, and Kevin called me over. I don't know, Kevin must think I'm this incredibly brilliant actress/singer, because he wanted me to talk to Stephen personally. I didn't know what to say! But luckily they were already in a conversation about musicals in which the actors play their own instruments, and how stephen is thinking of doing such a musical in 2013. I had something to add to the conversation, thankfully, and I talked about the Broadway revival of Company in which the actors played their own instruments (thank you brian davenport). Anyways, for a while in was just me, Kevin, and Stephen talking with about 15 students surrounding us listening, but later others joined in. Stephen asked if I played any instruments, how long I was going to be here...he mentioned that he was thinking of casting NOW. I answered his questions hurriedly, well aware that he was not going to cast me in his show!! But it was still nice that he asked.
That night we all just went to a pub in Derry, but I was pretty exhausted so I chose NOT to stay up until 5am to watch Notre Dame beat BC. The next morning started with a walking tour of Derry, led by Seamus Dean's brother Eamon. Very early on in the tour, we heard a loud shot. Probably a car backfiring, right? But then we heard another. Eamon stopped talking, looked around, and said "well...those were two high velocity shots. Someone's in trouble." He explained that those shots were either a Target shooting (perhaps someone the "Real" IRA, as they call themselves, has been pursuing), or a Punishment shooting, where a man gets kneecapped (shot in both knees). Pretty damn scary. The entire group was perrrrtty jumpy for the rest of the day.
I learned that Derry was quite instrumental in the Troubles. It resisted internment in a way that no other town did, leading to the Battle of the Bogside where the residents of the city WON and the police were withdrawn. To celebrate that victory, there are signs and murals all over proclaiming "Free Derry." But it's not entirely Nationalist. There is still a very small pocket of Unionist families, all living in one specific corner of the town. On the protestant side, there are British flags and "warning signs" everywhere.
We took a tour of the different murals in town, which you can check out here. After Mass at St. Eurgene's Cathedral (beautifulllllll) we headed back to Belfast for a walking tour there. Peter Maguire, a man who lived through the Troubles, took us on the tour, and shared some pretty brutal experiences. He took us to Bombay St, where the Troubles are said to have begun. The Protestant police force in Belfast saw the violence that had been mounting between the Catholics and the Protestants, and they decided to put an end to it. They lit dozens of Catholic homes on fire, killing many and destroying every home on the street. The IRA, which was small at the time, began to gather community support after the burning, and developed into the horribly violent, Republican group we think of them as today.
After a tour of more murals and streets filled with tragic history, we met up with a man who was, in fact, a member of the IRA for 40 years. He had been shot twice, had been a political prisoner for 7 years of his life, and said he would do it all again. He admitted that some IRA members were as brutal, as violent, and as aggressive as they are depicted in movies, but some like himself were fighting because they couldn't stand to watch everyone around them die. I loved hearing about all this from men that were actually in the thick of it, and seeing that they have a normal life and children to take care of now. Both men said they don't tell their children most of the things they tell us--they don't want their kids to grow up hating Protestants. To end the day, we went to the Protestant side of town, Shankill road. Kevin and Peter Maguire told us that they would never have dared set foot on this side of town as little as 5 years ago. There is still a huge wall dividing the city, keeping people from throwing bombs and rocks to the other side. At 8pm every night, the gate between the two sides closes. After 8pm, you can't leave your side. The division is everywhere--in your name, in the church you go to, in where you go to school, in who you're friends with. I had no idea that tensions were still so strong today. They remain two different worlds, literally just a stone's throw away.
That was the weekend. Sorry I wrote a novel, but there's just too much to say about all of this. I made the font and pictures smaller though, in an attempt to make it look shorter :) I'm going to go write a theology paper now! I'm heading to Edinburgh Thursday night, so I'm sure there will be another long blog post coming up!
Slainte,
Clare Mairead
p.s. Feel free to read my review of The Plough and the Stars
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