Last night, the university Literary and Debate Society hosted Noam Chomsky via teleconference. The lecture hall was packed (capacity about 350) and people were really psyched for it. He was being questioned by the president of the society, a law prof, a philosophy prof, and an Irish columnist, Nell McCafferty (the only woman on the panel). It was interesting to listen to him, but he may as well have been giving a talk, for all the softballs the male panelists were throwing to him.
Then Nell spoke up. Noam had made some comment early on, when asked his opinion of the American presidential candidates, about Obama being the candidate seeking some ever amorphous notion of change and about Clinton being 'the one who cried.' The audience had laughed when he said it, and Nell took her time in getting around to asking him about it, perhaps generously allowing him a chance to retract the seeming wholesale dismissal of her. When she piped up about it, she absolutely grilled him, asking whether he could more substantively describe his aversion to her or whether he was fine with the 'casual, comfortable misogyny' he had just perpetrated to the chilling satisfaction of the large audience listening to him. The audience was stunned that she would put such a question to him. He rebutted that he was only characterizing the candidates as they are characterized by American media and their own P.R. managers, that he hadn't himself made that dismissal of Clinton. But Nell didn't let it go (pretty awesome). She pressed him harder until he finally made a weak apology for 'how the audience might have interpreted it on that end.'
It was great to watch, and the audience had clearly been uncomfortable, some impatient with her pressing the issue. When I left the theatre at the end of the event, I was alone and so listened to some of the conversations around me. All of the groups of women I heard were talking about his encouraging views on U.S. freedom of speech or about something he'd said about Iran. The groups of men I heard, on the other hand--and I heard a few--were talking about how obnoxious Ms. McCafferty had been in pressing Chomsky on Clinton. Hmm.
Anyway, just an interesting snapshot, I thought.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
(Again, written a couple of days ago...)
So this past weekend, a bunch of kids went traveling, some around Ireland, others in continental Europe… but I stayed here in Galway. I wanted to get to know the city I’d be living in and occasionally hosting friends in over the next five months. I was planning to go on a hiking trip with the Mountaineering Club Sunday, but you have to have proper hiking boots and pants to do it, so I ordered some online and will just keep an eye out for the next trip.
I spent all of Sunday doing homework, but Saturday I went out a bit with my friend Rachel. (My roommate, Emmy, had her mom in town this weekend, so was busy with her—though they took us out to dinner Friday evening, which was great.) First, I’d heard from members of the Ecology Society (whose first meeting I attended last week!) that one of the Tipton Three was talking in Eyre Square in town, so we went to see whether we could find that. I’m still not sure whether we did, but we did find a “Free Gaza” rally, with several speakers, one in particular who compared the brutality of the Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories to the brutality of the British occupation of Ireland. It was interesting to listen to, and even more interesting to read some of the signs people had brought with them, like “Does My Occupation Look Big in This?” and “American Money, Israeli Arms, Irish Concrete.” Good turnout, by all sorts of citizens… and the Gardai as well (the police force here).
Then Rachel and I headed to the Saturday market, which is a relatively small, but varied market containing everything from fresh produce to jewelry to hats to take-away Indian food, fresh bread, olive oil and hummus… mmm, it was so great to walk around there. I definitely want to do all my grocery shopping there from now on. Actually, the Ecology Society is working to bring the market vendors onto campus once a week to provide fresh, local options to students. Apparently, they’ve done it once or twice in the past and had lots of success, but the main cafeteria of the university (the only non-student-run campus vendor, and the only vendor to have lost money in the past when fresh market vendors came to campus) is a strong voice against it. So we’ll see how that goes… Anyway, I bought this delicious oats and chocolate bar and a chapatti, and then Rachel and I headed off up Shop Street.
Rachel had wanted to try this café nearby called Java’s, so we went there. It was a pretty small, two-story, cozy café with decent prices and just a generally really comfortable atmosphere. And they don’t make you pay until you leave. And it would be so easy to skip out on the bill, but they just trust you to come back to the counter at some point before you leave. Pretty cool—and such good hot chocolate. (I’m really trying not to drink coffee still….) I meant to hit some museums and stuff this weekend too, but it was pretty late in the day by the time we left the café, so I’ll get to those another weekend.
In the meantime, I think I have classes pretty much figured out. I have “Agrarian Politics” on Monday (maybe already my favorite class); “Conflict and Cooperation in Natural Resource Management,” “Understanding Strangers,” and “Population Geography” on Tuesday; “Environmentalism in Ireland” and “Population Geography” (again) on Wednesday; and finally, “Sociology of the Environment” on Thursday, early afternoon. I was going to take “Women in Irish Society,” which would have meant that I’d have had classes only Monday through Wednesday, but I heard the prof is this kind of anti-feminist barrel of fuuuuun, so… thought I’d skip that one. Plus, it’s only for visiting students, so it’s mostly Americans, and lots of kids from my program specifically.
Speaking of which, the kids from my program are… perhaps part of the reason Americans don’t have such a great reputation abroad. I mean, there are a few of them who are really cool—my roommate and friend Rachel are two of them, fortunately—but some of the crap others have been pulling is kind of ridiculous. Like two girls who went to a pub and were told they had to kiss their first Irish boys… so they did. They just grabbed some two guys and made out with them right there. Or like this one guy whose first words to his roommate were, “You know, I just wanna get drunk and bang some chicks!” Emmy has fondly dubbed him simply “bang-some-chicks-boy” (also we don’t know his real name). And then a bunch of people act like they don’t know who you are when you see them around campus or in town. Well, I didn’t come here to go back to high school, nor did I come to get to know mean people, so it’s not too sad for me. In fact, it’s just pretty laughable most of the time.
I’m hoping to get really involved with Ecology Society, or EcoSoc, here. I went to the first meeting last week, with about six other people, and it’s a pretty cool group of kids. All women but two, and with events planned not just around green issues, but regarding politics and social justice as well… which, I guess, is a more accurate interpretation of “ecology” anyway. And it’s great, because it’s like a bunch of my interests all in one! They’ve got a lot of cool ideas, and I learned a lot through them about the nature of the university and its students. I was also able to make a few suggestions from my own knowledge of American universities’ and colleges’ green efforts, and they were receptive and seemed interested. I’m just excited to have a group I feel I identify with in a lot of ways. I’m also still hoping to join in with Mountaineering, and I’ve started going to Dance Society classes as well, though I think I’ll only be going to the Intermediate Hip-Hop class, since all the rest are beginners’ classes. I tried Beginning Irish last week, and while it was fun, it was way over-crowded and really slow-paced. Still, it’d be fun to be in some spring show that they have. We’ll see.
Okay, well, I’m off to try the Irish dance class again soon, so I’ll leave it here…
So this past weekend, a bunch of kids went traveling, some around Ireland, others in continental Europe… but I stayed here in Galway. I wanted to get to know the city I’d be living in and occasionally hosting friends in over the next five months. I was planning to go on a hiking trip with the Mountaineering Club Sunday, but you have to have proper hiking boots and pants to do it, so I ordered some online and will just keep an eye out for the next trip.
I spent all of Sunday doing homework, but Saturday I went out a bit with my friend Rachel. (My roommate, Emmy, had her mom in town this weekend, so was busy with her—though they took us out to dinner Friday evening, which was great.) First, I’d heard from members of the Ecology Society (whose first meeting I attended last week!) that one of the Tipton Three was talking in Eyre Square in town, so we went to see whether we could find that. I’m still not sure whether we did, but we did find a “Free Gaza” rally, with several speakers, one in particular who compared the brutality of the Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories to the brutality of the British occupation of Ireland. It was interesting to listen to, and even more interesting to read some of the signs people had brought with them, like “Does My Occupation Look Big in This?” and “American Money, Israeli Arms, Irish Concrete.” Good turnout, by all sorts of citizens… and the Gardai as well (the police force here).
Then Rachel and I headed to the Saturday market, which is a relatively small, but varied market containing everything from fresh produce to jewelry to hats to take-away Indian food, fresh bread, olive oil and hummus… mmm, it was so great to walk around there. I definitely want to do all my grocery shopping there from now on. Actually, the Ecology Society is working to bring the market vendors onto campus once a week to provide fresh, local options to students. Apparently, they’ve done it once or twice in the past and had lots of success, but the main cafeteria of the university (the only non-student-run campus vendor, and the only vendor to have lost money in the past when fresh market vendors came to campus) is a strong voice against it. So we’ll see how that goes… Anyway, I bought this delicious oats and chocolate bar and a chapatti, and then Rachel and I headed off up Shop Street.
Rachel had wanted to try this café nearby called Java’s, so we went there. It was a pretty small, two-story, cozy café with decent prices and just a generally really comfortable atmosphere. And they don’t make you pay until you leave. And it would be so easy to skip out on the bill, but they just trust you to come back to the counter at some point before you leave. Pretty cool—and such good hot chocolate. (I’m really trying not to drink coffee still….) I meant to hit some museums and stuff this weekend too, but it was pretty late in the day by the time we left the café, so I’ll get to those another weekend.
In the meantime, I think I have classes pretty much figured out. I have “Agrarian Politics” on Monday (maybe already my favorite class); “Conflict and Cooperation in Natural Resource Management,” “Understanding Strangers,” and “Population Geography” on Tuesday; “Environmentalism in Ireland” and “Population Geography” (again) on Wednesday; and finally, “Sociology of the Environment” on Thursday, early afternoon. I was going to take “Women in Irish Society,” which would have meant that I’d have had classes only Monday through Wednesday, but I heard the prof is this kind of anti-feminist barrel of fuuuuun, so… thought I’d skip that one. Plus, it’s only for visiting students, so it’s mostly Americans, and lots of kids from my program specifically.
Speaking of which, the kids from my program are… perhaps part of the reason Americans don’t have such a great reputation abroad. I mean, there are a few of them who are really cool—my roommate and friend Rachel are two of them, fortunately—but some of the crap others have been pulling is kind of ridiculous. Like two girls who went to a pub and were told they had to kiss their first Irish boys… so they did. They just grabbed some two guys and made out with them right there. Or like this one guy whose first words to his roommate were, “You know, I just wanna get drunk and bang some chicks!” Emmy has fondly dubbed him simply “bang-some-chicks-boy” (also we don’t know his real name). And then a bunch of people act like they don’t know who you are when you see them around campus or in town. Well, I didn’t come here to go back to high school, nor did I come to get to know mean people, so it’s not too sad for me. In fact, it’s just pretty laughable most of the time.
I’m hoping to get really involved with Ecology Society, or EcoSoc, here. I went to the first meeting last week, with about six other people, and it’s a pretty cool group of kids. All women but two, and with events planned not just around green issues, but regarding politics and social justice as well… which, I guess, is a more accurate interpretation of “ecology” anyway. And it’s great, because it’s like a bunch of my interests all in one! They’ve got a lot of cool ideas, and I learned a lot through them about the nature of the university and its students. I was also able to make a few suggestions from my own knowledge of American universities’ and colleges’ green efforts, and they were receptive and seemed interested. I’m just excited to have a group I feel I identify with in a lot of ways. I’m also still hoping to join in with Mountaineering, and I’ve started going to Dance Society classes as well, though I think I’ll only be going to the Intermediate Hip-Hop class, since all the rest are beginners’ classes. I tried Beginning Irish last week, and while it was fun, it was way over-crowded and really slow-paced. Still, it’d be fun to be in some spring show that they have. We’ll see.
Okay, well, I’m off to try the Irish dance class again soon, so I’ll leave it here…
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Warning: horrendously long entry…
So I’m pretty sure I’m learning more about American pop culture here in Ireland than I regularly would do back home. I’ve watched more TV in the past couple of weeks than I’ve watched in the past couple of years, and not because I go out of my way to watch TV here, but because it seems to be something around which my Irish roommates—and my Irish homestay family from this past weekend—congregate and socialize. They never mind talking over it, but it always seems to be on, and is often the focal point of a family or sitting room.
And America seems only too happy to export all of its worst crap for Europeans to eat up—MTV’s “Sweet Sixteen,” “Desperate Housewives,” and too many crap movies to count. I tried to watch the news today, but there’s way too much coverage of this quintuple-murder case going on, so I opted for some soccer with my breakfast. I try to buy a newspaper most days (I think it’s The Irish Times I get), but you almost feel antisocial if you actually try to read it. Well, I’ll figure that problem out in time. Probably just start reading in cafes.
I had a great weekend with my Irish homestay family. They were Sean and Siobhan (pronounced like Sh’vonne) Lane of Bishop Street, Tuam (about 30-45 minutes from here), with two adorable daughters, Rebecca, seven years old, and Johanna, four-and-a-half. I was with two other American students from the program, and we stayed just Friday through Sunday. It was great to be with a family for a bit, though. Sean wasn’t around much, because he happened to be working the entire weekend we were there (he’s a technician). When he was there, though, he was very kind and remembered our names right away, then treated his girls to tickling and acrobatic games. Sioban is a stay-at-home mother who taught me how to use (and not be afraid of) Ebay. She watches lots of cooking and home remodeling shows, when not running her girls around or checking something on the computer. Rebecca and Johanna love “High School Musical 2” way too much (I was sad to see stereotypes and uber-conservative norms reinforced throughout the movie), and have more high-tech toys than I would know what to do with at their age… but they were also just small, sweet kids who were psyched to have “big-girl” company for the weekend, so we gave them all the attention we could. We exchanged contact info and lots of hugs, then headed back Sunday evening.
I have so far attended three classes, only two of which I’ll be taking. Most of my classes will start this week. “Population Geography” started last Tuesday, and I’ll definitely be keeping it. Same for “Agrarian Politics,” which I had today, though it made me realize the inevitable cultural knowledge gap that exists between myself and my Irish counterparts. The professor made plenty of references to American political trends, which I picked up no problem, but little questions he asked about Irish agriculture or history I had to leave mostly to the Irish students. It’s a class of only seven students, though (great!), four of whom are from rural Ireland. Also, we all had trouble finding the classroom first because the numbering system in the building makes no sense whatsoever, while buildings themselves are given obscure abbreviations you’re supposed to understand; and second, because our classroom had been double-booked, so I actually sat down in “Ethnic Conflict and Territory” before some kind, knowing, pitying fellow American turned to me and advised me of the mix-up. Ha, oh well. I don’t even think the Irish kids get it most of the time.
I am currently typing this in a Word document, by the way, because our internet doesn’t seem to be working. Just another fun detail of life here: undependable internet. What is dependable, though, is that if you have a maintenance problem in your apartment, you will get the help you need to fix it… just not at the hour that you might expect it. One afternoon, just after arriving here, I was napping. I woke up to the doorbell ringing, but before I could even recognize the sound, the door opened and heavy footsteps were bounding up the stairs. Without even a knock, the maintenance manager of the complex, Frank, bursts into my room. “Oh, sorry, love,” he says, but makes no motion to leave. He instead heads over to my roommate’s side of the room, where he is checking the outlets. “Are ye alright, then?” he asks me. I replied that I was fine, just a little dazed. “What? Ah, have ye got the farty winds?” he asks. Um, what?? No, no, I haven’t got the farty winds, I reply, just tired, just got in the day before, etc. “Mm-hmm,” he replies, probably unconvinced, then says that my roommate’s outlets are fine and should there be any more problems, we should just give Frank a ring. Sure…
This, of course, was before we had the shower caulkers at 8:30 a.m. two mornings in a row (and couldn’t use our showers for 24 hours following), three separate workers ringing the doorbell three separate times to come upstairs and make tons of noise. This was also before we had a front door whose key card lock reader’s battery died, leaving us to ring our own doorbell any time we wanted to get into the apartment—the technician arrived an easy two days after the problem was reported. Ha, I really just find it all funny more than anything. Our Irish roommates find little of it surprising.
Speaking of them… we’ve got three: Sarah, Ruth, and Ceola. They’re great, and took a little warming up to before I felt comfortable with them, but I really like them and they seem to like Emmy and me. They’re definitely a party crew, but not out-of-control every-night-party-at-the-house sorts. Mostly, they pre-game, then go clubbing around 10:30. I’m pretty sure they didn’t go to class at all last week, but last week was basically just introductions anyway, so it didn’t matter as much. But good god, do Irish kids party. I’m impressed with my roommates and they’re not nearly the craziest of them.
Basically, if kids host a house party (which we did last week, for Ruth’s twentieth birthday), it’s a license to trash the place. They said it wouldn’t be so bad, since theirs was a girls’ apartment, then proceeded to explain stuff that had taken place at other house parties recently… like one kid’s clothes iron getting catapulted two yards down his block, for no particular reason. For our house party, our roommates moved all furniture out of the main room, hid all food, pushed the kitchen table up to block access to cupboards… it felt like the most intense child-proofing ever done on a place.
The party was tons of fun, and I met a bunch of fun Irish kids. Again, with the learning more about American pop here—goes for music too… there are all the songs I’d expect and dread, but then there are also total surprises that are major hits really late for no apparent reason… like “There Can Be Miracles” from the “Prince of Egypt” animated movie? Yep. Or really bad country songs that have nothing to do with life here because all they sing about are pick-ups and cowboy hats… Pretty funny. And as for fashion (I’ve been meaning to write about it)—way more Euro-trendy than I would have expected and than I’m comfortable with, but hell, I guess that’s appealing for lots of young people. There seem to be two major fashion camps—the Euro-trendy/trashy-dispose-of-your-clothes-after-a-month camp and the considerably smaller and not yet accessible to me, chiller, more Euro-neo-bohemian crew that always manages to look very cool nonetheless.
Anyway, this party was made up I think almost solely of the former, and yes, the place was generally trashed. Kids just drop their drinks all over, break bottles, throw shit around, and take whatever alcohol is left over, though they’re all generally BYOB affairs. They’re insaaane! It was amazing. They all headed to a club around 11 p.m., then came back around 2:30 to sing karaoke and make more noise. Ridiculous…ly fun, though I took no part in the activities after they left the house—went off with some other friends. The next morning, our roommates insisted on doing the cleaning themselves, pouring boiling water mixed with bleach over the floor twice the following morning, and still ending up with a sticky floor (we just wear shoes all the time). Ha ha, oh well. Our roommates really are great, especially considering they cleaned the very next morning (so great in comparison with other students’ roommates), and they were such great hostesses, introducing us to all of their friends and constantly checking in to make sure we were comfortable and having fun. And these kids do this almost every weeknight! I really don’t know how they keep it up…
Well, this has been waaaay too long of an entry. I’ll try to be more regular from now on, with shorter, not so terribly overwhelming novellas for posts. Hope everyone is well! I miss you and can’t wait to see some of you in the not-too-distant future.
So I’m pretty sure I’m learning more about American pop culture here in Ireland than I regularly would do back home. I’ve watched more TV in the past couple of weeks than I’ve watched in the past couple of years, and not because I go out of my way to watch TV here, but because it seems to be something around which my Irish roommates—and my Irish homestay family from this past weekend—congregate and socialize. They never mind talking over it, but it always seems to be on, and is often the focal point of a family or sitting room.
And America seems only too happy to export all of its worst crap for Europeans to eat up—MTV’s “Sweet Sixteen,” “Desperate Housewives,” and too many crap movies to count. I tried to watch the news today, but there’s way too much coverage of this quintuple-murder case going on, so I opted for some soccer with my breakfast. I try to buy a newspaper most days (I think it’s The Irish Times I get), but you almost feel antisocial if you actually try to read it. Well, I’ll figure that problem out in time. Probably just start reading in cafes.
I had a great weekend with my Irish homestay family. They were Sean and Siobhan (pronounced like Sh’vonne) Lane of Bishop Street, Tuam (about 30-45 minutes from here), with two adorable daughters, Rebecca, seven years old, and Johanna, four-and-a-half. I was with two other American students from the program, and we stayed just Friday through Sunday. It was great to be with a family for a bit, though. Sean wasn’t around much, because he happened to be working the entire weekend we were there (he’s a technician). When he was there, though, he was very kind and remembered our names right away, then treated his girls to tickling and acrobatic games. Sioban is a stay-at-home mother who taught me how to use (and not be afraid of) Ebay. She watches lots of cooking and home remodeling shows, when not running her girls around or checking something on the computer. Rebecca and Johanna love “High School Musical 2” way too much (I was sad to see stereotypes and uber-conservative norms reinforced throughout the movie), and have more high-tech toys than I would know what to do with at their age… but they were also just small, sweet kids who were psyched to have “big-girl” company for the weekend, so we gave them all the attention we could. We exchanged contact info and lots of hugs, then headed back Sunday evening.
I have so far attended three classes, only two of which I’ll be taking. Most of my classes will start this week. “Population Geography” started last Tuesday, and I’ll definitely be keeping it. Same for “Agrarian Politics,” which I had today, though it made me realize the inevitable cultural knowledge gap that exists between myself and my Irish counterparts. The professor made plenty of references to American political trends, which I picked up no problem, but little questions he asked about Irish agriculture or history I had to leave mostly to the Irish students. It’s a class of only seven students, though (great!), four of whom are from rural Ireland. Also, we all had trouble finding the classroom first because the numbering system in the building makes no sense whatsoever, while buildings themselves are given obscure abbreviations you’re supposed to understand; and second, because our classroom had been double-booked, so I actually sat down in “Ethnic Conflict and Territory” before some kind, knowing, pitying fellow American turned to me and advised me of the mix-up. Ha, oh well. I don’t even think the Irish kids get it most of the time.
I am currently typing this in a Word document, by the way, because our internet doesn’t seem to be working. Just another fun detail of life here: undependable internet. What is dependable, though, is that if you have a maintenance problem in your apartment, you will get the help you need to fix it… just not at the hour that you might expect it. One afternoon, just after arriving here, I was napping. I woke up to the doorbell ringing, but before I could even recognize the sound, the door opened and heavy footsteps were bounding up the stairs. Without even a knock, the maintenance manager of the complex, Frank, bursts into my room. “Oh, sorry, love,” he says, but makes no motion to leave. He instead heads over to my roommate’s side of the room, where he is checking the outlets. “Are ye alright, then?” he asks me. I replied that I was fine, just a little dazed. “What? Ah, have ye got the farty winds?” he asks. Um, what?? No, no, I haven’t got the farty winds, I reply, just tired, just got in the day before, etc. “Mm-hmm,” he replies, probably unconvinced, then says that my roommate’s outlets are fine and should there be any more problems, we should just give Frank a ring. Sure…
This, of course, was before we had the shower caulkers at 8:30 a.m. two mornings in a row (and couldn’t use our showers for 24 hours following), three separate workers ringing the doorbell three separate times to come upstairs and make tons of noise. This was also before we had a front door whose key card lock reader’s battery died, leaving us to ring our own doorbell any time we wanted to get into the apartment—the technician arrived an easy two days after the problem was reported. Ha, I really just find it all funny more than anything. Our Irish roommates find little of it surprising.
Speaking of them… we’ve got three: Sarah, Ruth, and Ceola. They’re great, and took a little warming up to before I felt comfortable with them, but I really like them and they seem to like Emmy and me. They’re definitely a party crew, but not out-of-control every-night-party-at-the-house sorts. Mostly, they pre-game, then go clubbing around 10:30. I’m pretty sure they didn’t go to class at all last week, but last week was basically just introductions anyway, so it didn’t matter as much. But good god, do Irish kids party. I’m impressed with my roommates and they’re not nearly the craziest of them.
Basically, if kids host a house party (which we did last week, for Ruth’s twentieth birthday), it’s a license to trash the place. They said it wouldn’t be so bad, since theirs was a girls’ apartment, then proceeded to explain stuff that had taken place at other house parties recently… like one kid’s clothes iron getting catapulted two yards down his block, for no particular reason. For our house party, our roommates moved all furniture out of the main room, hid all food, pushed the kitchen table up to block access to cupboards… it felt like the most intense child-proofing ever done on a place.
The party was tons of fun, and I met a bunch of fun Irish kids. Again, with the learning more about American pop here—goes for music too… there are all the songs I’d expect and dread, but then there are also total surprises that are major hits really late for no apparent reason… like “There Can Be Miracles” from the “Prince of Egypt” animated movie? Yep. Or really bad country songs that have nothing to do with life here because all they sing about are pick-ups and cowboy hats… Pretty funny. And as for fashion (I’ve been meaning to write about it)—way more Euro-trendy than I would have expected and than I’m comfortable with, but hell, I guess that’s appealing for lots of young people. There seem to be two major fashion camps—the Euro-trendy/trashy-dispose-of-your-clothes-after-a-month camp and the considerably smaller and not yet accessible to me, chiller, more Euro-neo-bohemian crew that always manages to look very cool nonetheless.
Anyway, this party was made up I think almost solely of the former, and yes, the place was generally trashed. Kids just drop their drinks all over, break bottles, throw shit around, and take whatever alcohol is left over, though they’re all generally BYOB affairs. They’re insaaane! It was amazing. They all headed to a club around 11 p.m., then came back around 2:30 to sing karaoke and make more noise. Ridiculous…ly fun, though I took no part in the activities after they left the house—went off with some other friends. The next morning, our roommates insisted on doing the cleaning themselves, pouring boiling water mixed with bleach over the floor twice the following morning, and still ending up with a sticky floor (we just wear shoes all the time). Ha ha, oh well. Our roommates really are great, especially considering they cleaned the very next morning (so great in comparison with other students’ roommates), and they were such great hostesses, introducing us to all of their friends and constantly checking in to make sure we were comfortable and having fun. And these kids do this almost every weeknight! I really don’t know how they keep it up…
Well, this has been waaaay too long of an entry. I’ll try to be more regular from now on, with shorter, not so terribly overwhelming novellas for posts. Hope everyone is well! I miss you and can’t wait to see some of you in the not-too-distant future.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
My first almost week now in Ireland has been a blur of green, gray, and blue--that would be the incredibly lush landscape and the sky. Having been abroad before, and also I suppose being at least a little more mature than I was when I traveled in '04-'05, I have been able to bypass the homesickness most other students are experiencing, but have also been able to offer others my sincerest sympathies and comfort when I see them dealing with it. God knows I've been there, right, fam?
So I've found myself predictably confused by the cell phones, the electricity outlets, and the course registration systems here, but I've decided not to get too worked up about it. I will figure things out. What I can't figure out, though, is the fact that Galway does not recycle anything but glass; and while they're very good about the glass (they've got separate bins everywhere for clear, green, and brown glass), I've already thrown away enough cardboard, paper, and plastic to make my heart shrivel.
Still, Irish people are way more conscious of the electricity and products they consume, it seems to me so far anyway. Like, there's a €0.22 bag tax at all grocery stores to encourage people (and it works!) to bring their own reusable shopping bags. And in Limerick, where we had our Butler orientation, the landfill was right next to this kind of nice hotel... though I doubt that was planned. And all of the outlets have their own on/off switches so that the circuits can simply bypass them around the room. Water heats up only for part of the day, according to a timer, and heating is kind of done on a room-by-room basis, with residents keeping doors shut, wearing more clothes, and turning off heaters at night to save on heating costs.
People can come by clothing, shoes, and accessories very cheaply by means of these superstores like Dunnes or Tesco, where it's kind of like a mall--a bunch of little stores all within this one department store... I still don't totally get the arrangement between these seemingly autonomous merchants and the Tesco or Dunnes brands. What I found interesting was that upon entering the produce section of the bizarrely organized grocery stores of these departments stores, I couldn't find absolutely everything I wanted--or there would be very little of it left and people took what they could. That's not to say there wasn't selection, because I got a delicious and probably better-traveled-than-I passion fruit from Dunnes, but they were just low on some kind of basic items, in comparison with the ever overflowing shelves of the supermarkets in the States, where Americans insist on this progressively falser, yet reassuring sense of abundance. (I am finding myself more and more drawn to food systems studies....)
While in Limerick, I saw the Limerick Art Museum, featuring one artist's take on Dante's Inferno. This exhibit took up two large rooms, while a third room housed what seemed like everything else the museum owned, a casually jumbled mix of landscape, abstract, etc. paintings, with pencil drawings, sculpture, and photography filling the walls floor-to-ceiling. I also saw the city's castle and cathedral, as well as its history museum, a very cool, eclectic collection of everything from ancient weapons and coins to modern labor strikers' posters and pamphlets and even an old diving suit. This all took place one rainy afternoon with a friend, who along with me had decided to stay back from the Bunratty Castle trip, to which Butler had organized a trip for us. Bunratty sounded a little like the Medieval Times get-up to me, with people in costume and recreated scenes,etc. You can imagine my reluctance to partake. People who ended up going said it was cool, but I was quite happy with my own scenic afternoon.
We got to Galway on Wednesday midday and have been running from one orientation event to the next and to the grocery and department stores for food and bedding and toiletries. I went out last night, though (Thursday night), with two friends, to a pub known for drawing lots of young people, called King's Head. It was a bit less casual than I expected, with plenty of kids dressed to impress, but the music was great--a live five-member band playing quality covers all night--and I couldn't help but dance just a little (even though I know that's not what pubs are for!), especially when they broke out a little Killers and Radiohead. Oh well.
Oh, and I have to mention... basically ALL of the speakers during our orientation could have been professional performers! It was like each was trying to be funnier or more interesting than the last--this, between the university's vice president, the International Student Director, two priests, two members of the Gardi (police force), and various other academic figureheads from the university. It seems a lot of Irish people have a way with words... let's see if that's at all contagious.
One more thing: on the way from Shannon Airport to our Limerick hotel, our taxi driver told us about "the fairy tree" along the highway from Limerick to Galway, and told us to ask our driver about it when we make that trip. Apparently, this tree was placed under government protection several years ago because it was in the way of a highway that was to built (and ended up swerving around it). Some vandals mangled the tree one night and left it quite scarred... but within three months, the tree had healed such that it looked as though it hadn't been touched! Well, our driver pointed it out to us: it was really more like a large dark-wood bush, leafless in the winter rains and cold, surrounded by a short, wooden fence, within a median between the highway and an exit.... I'll admit it was somewhat anti-climactic, especially since we passed it at around fifty miles an hour, but it was still lovely. So lovely, and reflecting on the image of it, there was a certain undeniable power to that little plant.
In any case, I've written probably more than you cared to read, and romanticized even worse than that. This land already has me by the heart, weather and all, and I just can't wait to see and learn more of it.
P.S. I obviously haven't met my Irish roommates yet, since I didn't write a word about them. They, and we think they're women, left a bit of a mess for us to arrive to, but whatever. And my roommate herself is really great--a junior at Mount Holyoke, sooooo prepster East Coast, and awesome. We're getting along really well so far. Rahhhh!!! Stop! Writing!
So I've found myself predictably confused by the cell phones, the electricity outlets, and the course registration systems here, but I've decided not to get too worked up about it. I will figure things out. What I can't figure out, though, is the fact that Galway does not recycle anything but glass; and while they're very good about the glass (they've got separate bins everywhere for clear, green, and brown glass), I've already thrown away enough cardboard, paper, and plastic to make my heart shrivel.
Still, Irish people are way more conscious of the electricity and products they consume, it seems to me so far anyway. Like, there's a €0.22 bag tax at all grocery stores to encourage people (and it works!) to bring their own reusable shopping bags. And in Limerick, where we had our Butler orientation, the landfill was right next to this kind of nice hotel... though I doubt that was planned. And all of the outlets have their own on/off switches so that the circuits can simply bypass them around the room. Water heats up only for part of the day, according to a timer, and heating is kind of done on a room-by-room basis, with residents keeping doors shut, wearing more clothes, and turning off heaters at night to save on heating costs.
People can come by clothing, shoes, and accessories very cheaply by means of these superstores like Dunnes or Tesco, where it's kind of like a mall--a bunch of little stores all within this one department store... I still don't totally get the arrangement between these seemingly autonomous merchants and the Tesco or Dunnes brands. What I found interesting was that upon entering the produce section of the bizarrely organized grocery stores of these departments stores, I couldn't find absolutely everything I wanted--or there would be very little of it left and people took what they could. That's not to say there wasn't selection, because I got a delicious and probably better-traveled-than-I passion fruit from Dunnes, but they were just low on some kind of basic items, in comparison with the ever overflowing shelves of the supermarkets in the States, where Americans insist on this progressively falser, yet reassuring sense of abundance. (I am finding myself more and more drawn to food systems studies....)
While in Limerick, I saw the Limerick Art Museum, featuring one artist's take on Dante's Inferno. This exhibit took up two large rooms, while a third room housed what seemed like everything else the museum owned, a casually jumbled mix of landscape, abstract, etc. paintings, with pencil drawings, sculpture, and photography filling the walls floor-to-ceiling. I also saw the city's castle and cathedral, as well as its history museum, a very cool, eclectic collection of everything from ancient weapons and coins to modern labor strikers' posters and pamphlets and even an old diving suit. This all took place one rainy afternoon with a friend, who along with me had decided to stay back from the Bunratty Castle trip, to which Butler had organized a trip for us. Bunratty sounded a little like the Medieval Times get-up to me, with people in costume and recreated scenes,etc. You can imagine my reluctance to partake. People who ended up going said it was cool, but I was quite happy with my own scenic afternoon.
We got to Galway on Wednesday midday and have been running from one orientation event to the next and to the grocery and department stores for food and bedding and toiletries. I went out last night, though (Thursday night), with two friends, to a pub known for drawing lots of young people, called King's Head. It was a bit less casual than I expected, with plenty of kids dressed to impress, but the music was great--a live five-member band playing quality covers all night--and I couldn't help but dance just a little (even though I know that's not what pubs are for!), especially when they broke out a little Killers and Radiohead. Oh well.
Oh, and I have to mention... basically ALL of the speakers during our orientation could have been professional performers! It was like each was trying to be funnier or more interesting than the last--this, between the university's vice president, the International Student Director, two priests, two members of the Gardi (police force), and various other academic figureheads from the university. It seems a lot of Irish people have a way with words... let's see if that's at all contagious.
One more thing: on the way from Shannon Airport to our Limerick hotel, our taxi driver told us about "the fairy tree" along the highway from Limerick to Galway, and told us to ask our driver about it when we make that trip. Apparently, this tree was placed under government protection several years ago because it was in the way of a highway that was to built (and ended up swerving around it). Some vandals mangled the tree one night and left it quite scarred... but within three months, the tree had healed such that it looked as though it hadn't been touched! Well, our driver pointed it out to us: it was really more like a large dark-wood bush, leafless in the winter rains and cold, surrounded by a short, wooden fence, within a median between the highway and an exit.... I'll admit it was somewhat anti-climactic, especially since we passed it at around fifty miles an hour, but it was still lovely. So lovely, and reflecting on the image of it, there was a certain undeniable power to that little plant.
In any case, I've written probably more than you cared to read, and romanticized even worse than that. This land already has me by the heart, weather and all, and I just can't wait to see and learn more of it.
P.S. I obviously haven't met my Irish roommates yet, since I didn't write a word about them. They, and we think they're women, left a bit of a mess for us to arrive to, but whatever. And my roommate herself is really great--a junior at Mount Holyoke, sooooo prepster East Coast, and awesome. We're getting along really well so far. Rahhhh!!! Stop! Writing!
Friday, January 4, 2008
It's still a long explanation that most people wouldn't want to hear as to why, at the very last minute I could (classic me), I chose to study in Ireland rather than Kenya. Yes, two wholly different places, it's true, but hell, ask my advisor (Tony!)--there is very little consistency to much that I do. The unrest and violence that recently erupted in Nairobi has my parents especially grateful that something in me made that switch just a couple of months ago. I guess I am too, but I also wonder what that might have been like to go there still. (Ah, naivety and presumptuousness.)
Well, I'm off tomorrow evening, six p.m. flight out of Chicago if no delays. I still have to pack, I guess, but otherwise, I'm ready. Next time I write, I'll be on Irish soil...
Well, I'm off tomorrow evening, six p.m. flight out of Chicago if no delays. I still have to pack, I guess, but otherwise, I'm ready. Next time I write, I'll be on Irish soil...
(This was actually written two weeks ago! I procrastinated on posting it, on starting this blog in the first place, because I couldn't think of a good name for it. I owe the name to Adrian S., and to The Magnetic Fields a little too, by the way. Thank you.)
So it begins… kind of. I am sitting in the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, awaiting my two-hours-delayed flight home to Chicago. Should get me into O’Hare around 10:30 p.m., where I’ll meet my parents and sisters (hooray!) and then drive the forty-five minutes home.
So the narrative starts here. In part, because I feel like some part of a trip is the anticipation of it. Also, because I know my break will be unbelievably short and packed, so if I don’t start here, I’ll manage to keep putting it off ‘til I figure there’s no point to it anymore. And finally, because I still have at least another hour until we even board. I’m tempted to keep a handwritten journal (I’m a sucker for the romance), but I’m having an unusually honest moment with myself that leads me to confess my persistent laziness—so typing is the more likely medium for me.
Sitting here amidst all these Chicago-bound passengers makes me more conscious of the pretty preppy and neutral-tones fashion sense many of its residents adhere to. I am sitting here in a pair of birks, worn-out navy dockers, a bright orange-red sweater (Yael, that color recognition is for you), and a green scarf. And I feel like I smell—you know, nothing rank, just that I’ve-been-traveling-for-a-while smell. My cuticles are all cut up from packing accidents yesterday, my MacBook is perched contentedly on my lap, and my lower calves, just visible below my rolled-up pant legs, are hairy like any over-busy (and over-lazy) woman’s would be: I am definitely a college student.
Too much information? Probably, but recall my circumstances. Anyway, it’s been a crazy, sleep-deprived week. But I did it. And I’m here. And just hours away from home and relaxing and eating great food and being unproductive for a little while (yes!). One thing I learned this week: do not try to say your good-byes on two restless hours of sleep (sorry Adrian and Alana!)—the tears just keep a-flowin’…
Wow, what a semester. I will miss the women who nursed me through it, both at Scripps and not. You. are. wonderful. And I hope we meet up somehow this semester, at least those of us who have the geographical possibility of doing so. I will close this entry by sharing with you two humorous instances observed in the past ten seconds: 1) I looked up briefly and caught the look of shock on a fellow passenger’s face whose gaze was directed at my exposed right leg; and 2) this young couple traveling with a Chihuahua puppy is feeding her bottled water from the bottle cap.
So it begins… kind of. I am sitting in the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, awaiting my two-hours-delayed flight home to Chicago. Should get me into O’Hare around 10:30 p.m., where I’ll meet my parents and sisters (hooray!) and then drive the forty-five minutes home.
So the narrative starts here. In part, because I feel like some part of a trip is the anticipation of it. Also, because I know my break will be unbelievably short and packed, so if I don’t start here, I’ll manage to keep putting it off ‘til I figure there’s no point to it anymore. And finally, because I still have at least another hour until we even board. I’m tempted to keep a handwritten journal (I’m a sucker for the romance), but I’m having an unusually honest moment with myself that leads me to confess my persistent laziness—so typing is the more likely medium for me.
Sitting here amidst all these Chicago-bound passengers makes me more conscious of the pretty preppy and neutral-tones fashion sense many of its residents adhere to. I am sitting here in a pair of birks, worn-out navy dockers, a bright orange-red sweater (Yael, that color recognition is for you), and a green scarf. And I feel like I smell—you know, nothing rank, just that I’ve-been-traveling-for-a-while smell. My cuticles are all cut up from packing accidents yesterday, my MacBook is perched contentedly on my lap, and my lower calves, just visible below my rolled-up pant legs, are hairy like any over-busy (and over-lazy) woman’s would be: I am definitely a college student.
Too much information? Probably, but recall my circumstances. Anyway, it’s been a crazy, sleep-deprived week. But I did it. And I’m here. And just hours away from home and relaxing and eating great food and being unproductive for a little while (yes!). One thing I learned this week: do not try to say your good-byes on two restless hours of sleep (sorry Adrian and Alana!)—the tears just keep a-flowin’…
Wow, what a semester. I will miss the women who nursed me through it, both at Scripps and not. You. are. wonderful. And I hope we meet up somehow this semester, at least those of us who have the geographical possibility of doing so. I will close this entry by sharing with you two humorous instances observed in the past ten seconds: 1) I looked up briefly and caught the look of shock on a fellow passenger’s face whose gaze was directed at my exposed right leg; and 2) this young couple traveling with a Chihuahua puppy is feeding her bottled water from the bottle cap.
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