Students Must Not Throw Fat Out the Window

Photo Post - Kunming and Lijiang

2010-01-23T17:18:00.001-08:00

Since I'm still not a Blogger expert, these pictures are actually in reverse order. I'd recommend going from the bottom up.

the mountain range that looks like a woman lying on her back

Peter and the sunset on the mountain

Tibetan statues, cemented in to overlook the city

the Chinese version of Smokey the Bear

the complex in the middle with the orange roof is the temple where we started climbing

Peter, Fang Yi, and Miriam on top of the mountain

speaking goat

the animal in question

elaborated roof structure at the women's temple in Kunming

women's temple

door to the women's temple

the roofs had WINGS!

women's temple doors

women's temple (the part that wasn't yet restored)

latkes: what happens when Jews go to China

fields of rice near Lijiang

tombs at Dragon Pool Park

Snow Dragon Mountain

another temple at Dragon Pool Park

Chinese trash can

another trash can

the lake at Dragon Pool Park, view of Snow Dragon Mountain

it was so sunny we couldn't look at the camera

the lake was full of carp!

we're standing in front of the hill we weren't allowed to climb (Dragon Pool Park)

the entrance to the old part of Lijiang

the restaurant that saved our lives and our stomachs

she couldn't stop laughing at the Mu Mansion in Lijiang

Mu Mansion complex

we're so Mu

at Boiled Dumpling Aunty

Mu Mansion gates

what the hutongs in Beijing were supposed to look like (this is Lijiang)

(self-explanatory)

one of many bridges in Lijiang

at Lamu's - Tibetan bread and honey

after the overnight bus ride that crushed our souls

before we knew that our souls would be crushed (yes, those are beds on the bus)

camel at the Golden Temple in Kunming

view of Kunming from the Golden Temple (this city is considered rural in China)

the giant fish that rang the bell

bell tower at the Golden Temple

pond at the Golden Temple

for your entertainment

at the Golden Temple

gate at the Golden Temple

the Golden Temple as seen from over a wall

cool tea table

me, Cherry, and Miriam at the Two Gates in Kunming's city center

one of the Two Gates (one of which is a horse!)

egg and tomato soup, fried pumpkin, something beef, something green, and deep-fried corn

the market in Kunming. Miriam knocked over the carrots.

she loves her dragonfruit

my first meal in Kunming - Across the Bridge Noodles

the view from the plane, somewhere over Canada. That's a frozen floodplain.

These Shoes Were Not Made For Walking

2010-01-22T20:54:00.000-08:00

Two days before I left to visit my sister in China, I bought a pair of Converse sneakers to replace the ones through which I had worn a hole (for the second time). I was in China for approximately two weeks, and those shoes came home looking a lot like the ones I had just replaced. Horizontal surfaces are dirty there--I'm not sure if my shoes suffered more from the unmentionable substances on bathroom floors, the other unmentionable substances on the street, or the snow that was suspiciously dirty just after falling. Maybe it was the indignity of being so frozen.

In spite of these things, though, I really did enjoy my trip. It was the first time I've seen my sister since August, and now I can bargain in Chinese! I climbed a mountain, came down it in the dark, (accidentally) ate soup with bugs in it, hiked the Great Wall with snow on it, saw too many temples to count, survived the slippery surfaces of the Forbidden City, and met some amazing people. I also happened to be reading Reading Lolita in Tehran at the time. Learning about China and its history while reading about Iran added an interesting dimension to the trip.

Miriam and I also had some great discussions about language and the way that it affects people's methods of learning, in language classes and otherwise. (Short aside: My sister is brilliant. She's an amazing teacher, no matter how much she doubts it. Kunming is lucky to have her.) She taught me the four tones of Mandarin and I started to learn Pin Yin, which is actually pronounced Peen Yeen. Who knew? We talked about the way that Chinese is structured, with the written ideographs completely separate from the spoken words, and the difficulties that this creates in the classroom. Her students have trouble grasping the fact that English does not have to be separated into Speaking, Reading, and Writing, and that memorization is not always the best way to learn. With English, if you know the alphabet, you can sound out words that you don't know, but this is impossible in Chinese. We talked about the tonal system, too, and the way that it affects self-expression--for example, if you're speaking English, the tone of your voice adds nuance and connotation to what you're saying, while in Chinese the tones change the literal meaning of the words. This means that there's no way to add things like happiness, frustration, or jealousy to your words without directly expressing those emotions. Our conversations just about blew my mind.

If anyone out there reading this is thinking of visiting China, please please PLEASE go to the southern provinces. Check out Kunming, the city where Miriam lives. It's greener than cities like Beijing, less polluted, warmer, and people on the street are friendly. They may have pointed at me a bit when I first arrived, but there was nothing mean behind it, just curiosity and surprise. I'm tall! And my hair curls! It was quite the scandal. When my sister and I took a trip to Lijiang (smaller tourist destination) some guy actually took video footage of us. Also go to Lijiang, a maze-like city built on canals. Avoid the overnight bus, unless you want to use an open-air squat toilet in the middle of a sleepless night, on the roof of a building that may or may not have been a brothel (true story). Eat at Boiled Dumpling Aunty and Lamu's House of Tibet, where we had tea with yak butter in it. Visit Dragon Pool Park, but if you want to climb the hill, make sure that you're not two females who are obviously not Chinese. The guards there won't let you. Bargain for everything and smell the yak meat.

The second half of the trip took place in Beijing, where Miriam and I met up with our parents. Unfortunately, our plane sat on the runway in Kunming for seven hours because of the massive snow storm in Beijing. The city was covered in snow when we got there, and even though the army literally worked around the clock to clear the sidewalks, there was no way to get around the fact that it was -15 degrees Celsius almost every day. Beijing was an interesting place, but I spent most of my time there with my nose glued to the ground, looking for the best footing. I got to know Chinese flooring options really well.

In Beijing, I visited the Forbidden City, which was interesting but not as spectacular as I'd heard--although this was probably because they hadn't shoveled yet and I was trying to avoid braining myself. The Hall of Clocks was incredible, with so many mechanisms I never would have thought would work even now, let alone two hundred years ago. One of the clocks had a human figure that wrote out Chinese characters at certain times of day! If you ever go to Beijing, I'd recommend checking out the Temple of Heavenly Peace as well as the Dongyue Temple. Dongyue is smaller, but it's very different. The central courtyard is surrounded by 'departments' at which you can pray for specific things, and these departments demonstrate their functions with life-size dioramas. My favorite was the Department for Implementing Fifteen Kinds of Violent Death. These monks mean business. And of course, go to the Great Wall, preferably one of the less touristy sections like Mutianyu or Simatai.

One of my strangest experiences was actually an acrobat show that we saw in Beijing. The performers were all skilled, and their stunts made me hold my breath, but I couldn't stop thinking about the sadder aspects of the show; all of the acrobats had been recruited at a young age, to train relentlessly for years only to end up in the chorus. There were two or three female principals, and the rest of the female performers didn't do much more than make pretty hand gestures. I spent the majority of the show worrying about the kids who messed up their routines and imagining the older performers as their younger selves. The auditorium was smaller and shabbier than the one at my hometown's public high school. Maybe I'm too sensitive about stuff like this, but it bothered me--just like the child beggars, the taxis that wouldn't accept our business, the higher priced menus, and the strangers that told me I was beautiful simply because I didn't look like them.

If you're really interested in China, though, you should read what my sister's been writing. I was only there as a visitor for two weeks, while she's been living in Kunming for months. One blog post can't really cover it, as you might be able to tell from my scattered thoughts. If you do visit, I have one piece of advice: don't put anything on the floor.

Why I Am Not a Painter

2009-06-04T19:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I've gotten over that bump. No more feeling sorry for myself--sure, I miss Dublin, but I brought about a year's supply of tea home to keep me company.

Lately, I've been thinking about my post-Emory plans...a pretty scary thought, but I have to do it. No more sitting idly on the couch! Now, I sit on the couch and do research on my laptop. It's an improvement, right? Only kidding, I do get out of the house once in a while. Anyway, I've been trying to figure out what's doable and what's not, and whether I'm even good enough, or worth it, to go and get an MFA in poetry. Today, my mother tried to convince me that I should become a personal shopper. This spurred me into action. I AM going to write. I'm going to take the GRE this summer, and I'm going to resume the writing schedule that I gave myself last semester (a poem a week, no matter how terrible it is). I'm going to write a kick-ass thesis, and then I'm going to get my MFA.

This poem by Frank O'Hara pretty much sums up my feelings on the subject (why am I going to do all of these things? because, I can't NOT do them. i can't NOT write poems.):

Why I Am Not a Painter

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
"Sit down and have a drink" he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. "You have SARDINES in it."
"Yes, it needed something there."
"Oh." I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. "Where's SARDINES?"
All that's left is just
letters, "It was too much," Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven't mentioned
orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.

"Harder Now That It's Over" (thanks, Ryan Adams)

2009-05-27T06:27:00.000-07:00

I've been home for less than 24 hours and I'm already going stir crazy. Everything looks exactly the same, except for my bedroom, which has mysteriously acquired more miscellaneous objects in my absence. I'm already sitting on the couch, getting angry at the slow internet, feeling blase (oh Blogger, why can't I make accent marks?) about cleaning my room, and waiting for my friends to come around. Summer is here for sure. It feels like I never left, like I never lived in another country at all, like I've been sitting here on the couch for the past five months and suddenly became aware of it.

Is this culture shock? It feels more like the absence thereof...I miss the freedom of Dublin, and the friendliness of strangers, but I see cars driving on the right side and I'm not confused. I was a little overwhelmed at the supermarket yesterday, having gotten used to the smaller scale of Tesco, but I got over it easily enough. Hunger will do that to you. The most shocking thing of all, I think, was seeing one of those huge garbage bins yesterday (what are they called, the big metal ones? blame the jet lag) with "DUBLIN" on it. Double take!

Also, I would like to issue a retraction: my iPod is not deceased. Who knew that bad headphones could make your music go fuzzy and start skipping? Obviously not me.

Things I Will Miss (and apparently I'm attracted to the letter S)

2009-05-25T11:03:00.000-07:00

Abrakebabra, archaeological tourism

Barry's Tea, bridges, Bus Atha Cliath

counties, cliffs, cider

Dublin (duh), doors

even D4s

the face column outside of Screen Cinema

Galway Hooker, the good milk, Grafton Street

Hodges Figges

"I'm after drinking this Guinness"

Jaffa Cakes

KerryGold

the lack of "th" (i.e. "De Irish are true tespians. Dey appreciate da teater." Translation: "The Irish are true thespians. They appreciate the theater."), loading up my backpack for the next Great European Adventure

magpies, Molly Malone a.k.a. "the tart with the cart"

"naff"

the "ollscoil"

political history in your face, Porterhouse

quays

the art history Reading Room, real green grass, rugby, Ryanair

sausages, Screen Cinema, my singing hairdryer, the singing crosswalks, "smuggling peas," Spar, spring lambs, St. Stephen's Green, sunlight coming as a shock

taxi drivers, Temple Bar, Tesco

upper and lower streets

"veg" with your dinner

the word "ye"

X. I got nothing.

yellow gorse flowering on the hills

"zed"

omgomgomgomg

2009-05-12T13:48:00.001-07:00

I just saw a centipede in our bathroom. I am not normally freaked out by bugs, but there is something just wrong about centipedes. They are too sinuous.

Also, I blame this on my roommate, who recently cleaned the bathroom (badly) using the sponge that some of us use to wash our dishes. Today, I also had to move my toothpaste out of the bathroom so that she would stop using it. Can't wait to come home!

All Good Things Must Come to an End

2009-05-10T05:12:00.000-07:00

And by that I'm referring to my iPod, not the semester--16 days until I return to the states! And only three more exams between me and a blissful summer without (a lot of) rain. Is it sad that writing this blog entry is my reward for studying? I've seriously been regressing; Taylor Swift brought me back to thirteen, but I'm hovering somewhere near third grade now. Last night, I only allowed myself to watch an episode of Ugly Betty after finishing a novel for one of my exams tomorrow. The whole time that I was reading, even though I genuinely liked the book, all I could think about was Betty's new boyfriend and Wilhelmina's machinations (but who isn't interested in baby-napping and mistaken identities? come on, I'm not the only one!).

Anyway, back on topic: my poor little iPod has succumbed to exhaustion and rain. And at only 5 years old! Coming out of the exam building/hangar a few days ago, we got rained on a bit and it started skipping. I found out yesterday that I should have just turned it off and let it dry out instead of listening to the entire Spring Awakening soundtrack...oops. I'm still hoping that it will, in the spirit of spring (pun was not intended, but now that I notice it, it brings me joy!), resurrect itself, but it's not looking likely.

I'm going to miss you, iPod. I don't care if others have called you bulky or archaic--we've got history! We've done so much together over the years: traveling to the wilds of Israel and Montreal, making it through my freshman year of college, saying goodbye to two different laptops (and two iTunes libraries), listening to Ryan Adams when boys have been stupid, not running out of battery when the equestrian team accidentally drove us to Florida, and turning Clifton Road into a catwalk...among many other things.

Goodbye, iPod. Here's to you.

Go...Diplomats?

2009-05-07T05:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, when I was taking my first exam of the semester, I noticed an Irish student (how did I know? it has to do with a certain area code, if you get my drift. which you probably don't, unless you've been studying here, too) wearing a Franklin and Marshall sweatshirt. As in, Franklin and Marshall, the small liberal arts college in Pennsylvania, the United States. And this wasn't the first incident...I've been seeing people wearing Franklin and Marshall sweatshirts all over Dublin for the past couple of months. Is this some sort of trend? Why Franklin and Marshall? Why not a school that's actually well-known, and not in Pennsylvania? I even saw people wearing their F&M accoutrement in Italy. Why this sudden upsurge of school spirit for a school that, I'm pretty sure I can safely say, these people don't even attend? It boggles my mind.

Or maybe F&M just has the least expensive sweatshirts of all American universities? When I start typing into my Google search box, the first suggestion is "franklin and marshall hoodie," followed by "franklin and marshall online store," then "franklin and marshall cheap." Hmm.

AHA! According to www.choicestore.co.uk, "Franklin and Marshall" is a brand, based on the name of the college. They make vintage and collegiate-inspired clothing. But I still don't understand why they chose F&M, of all schools. Oh well, at least I solved the mystery. Now I can walk into my next exam knowing that I am not being thrown into the middle of some sort of Franklin and Marshall-based conspiracy. I can sit in the cavernous barn/warehouse/hangar/testing center with my 3,000 fellow students, my head held high.

Yes, that's how they take exams here. It's actually not that bad; I'm not really bothered by the large space, just the birds flying above me in the rafters. I really hope that none of them have been eating big lunches.

It's Never Too Late for a White Horse

2009-05-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

Just in case you thought I was getting too cultured:

Possibly due to a subconscious preparation for my return home, I've been listening to a lot of country music lately (something that, two years ago, I never thought I'd say). And, I'm sorry if this lowers your opinion of me, but I just have to say that Taylor Swift is sounding better and better. I didn't think she could top "Picture to Burn" or "Our Song," but I'm very much loving Fearless. Particularly "White Horse" and "The Way I Loved You." But why is that guy from "Laguna Beach" in the video?

Oh, and I like Miley Cyrus's new song. I'm officially thirteen years old.

"Ciao, bella!"

2009-05-04T10:11:00.000-07:00

The pictures here are actually back to front, since we went Venice-Florence-Rome. But it's Italy! Some of the hostels may have been less than wonderful, but...it's Italy! I took a lot less pictures than I did the last time that I was there, just trying to enjoy the experience and the sunshine (and thanks to the lack of sun in Dublin that my skin has become accustomed to, I now have a terrible sunburn). I was surprised by how well I remembered the cities after four years! It's comforting to find that memories don't fade as much as we think they do.

Hadrianic roundels (if I remember correctly)

the Arch of Constantine

semi-unconventional view of the Colosseum

bridge with angels

Saint Peter's Basilica

the Ponte Vecchio (which was mysteriously stamped with Darth Vader masks?)

the view of the Duomo from our hostel terrace

the Uffizi framing the bell tower

Duomo!

after some light rain in Venice, San Marco plaza was flooded this badly--this does not bode well. platform walkways were set up all over the city, just in case.

quills! brings me back to the 18th century.

gratuitous.

stairway to nowhere (well, it's somewhere, but it's locked. therefore it's nowhere)

colorful, wet buildings

at first we thought the platforms were for an impromptu fashion show...through all of Venice? I don't know what we were thinking.

Oh, and also! I ate cuttlefish in ink. I don't think that I'll be doing that again, but it was definitely an interesting experience. When in Venice...

"It's now or never, COLLEGE!!!!" or, "STOP EFFING AROUND!!!"

2009-04-18T14:56:00.000-07:00

I finally got to go to a rugby game! UCD played Munster yesterday, and it was absolutely fantastic. I've never enjoyed watching football or baseball, but this was really entertaining, despite the fact that we didn't know the rules. It has some similarities to football, but as they say here, football is a gentleman's game compared to rugby. The medic was running around on that field as much as or more than the actual players--and they didn't stop playing when they were injured, just taped it up and kept on getting smashed. It also moved a lot faster than football; they'd be in a huge scrum, fighting over the ball, and then all of a sudden the ball would reappear twenty feet away! The coolest play, though, was this brilliant lift that they would do whenever the ball was thrown back in. They literally lifted each other up (kind of like a cheerleading move, actually) to catch the ball in the air.

UCD lost, but it was still an insanely fun day. Rugby fans are absolutely mad.

the big LIFT

number 11, mr. fancypants, striking his signature pose

scrum-ptious.

Bru na boinne and the Hill of Tara

2009-04-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

Last Monday, I finally got to see Newgrange, an ancient tomb, and the Hill of Tara, which is an early medieval royal site--I'm not sure how else to explain it. It's actually exactly the type of thing that we've been looking at in my archaeology class: a bank-and-ditch enclosure, with more ditches signifying higher status, different 'levels' of enclosed space, and a strategic location overlooking three quarters of the country on a clear day (here's an aerial view, so you can see what the earthwork looks like as a whole). When you're actually on the hill, you can't really see the big picture; it just looks like the ground has turned to waves, and you're walking up and down a green surf. The landscape and the history on this trip were pretty spectacular, and Newgrange itself was so mysterious and creepy--but in a good way! I love the creepy stuff.

The tomb actually reminded me of the Ancient American shamanic artwork that I studied last semester. I wonder if archaeologists have considered that Newgrange may have been the product of a visionary culture? Dichotomies of light/dark, male/female, life/death, and white/black are obvious in the construction, as are themes of fertility/seasons/birth/rebirth, but for me the biggest clue was the recurrence of spirals and zigzags. The guide told us that people have guessed that they are a form of writing, or artwork. Spirals and zigzags are actually really important in shamanic art, because they (along with other motifs like lattices and tunnels) reflect the visionary consciousness; when a person goes into trance, those symbols are part of the first stage of the vision, while spirals themselves are also very eye-like. Inside the tomb, in one of the three niches, there was also a shallow basin that the guide suggested as a place to hold the dead, or possibly to collect blood from a sacrifice--but what about a hallucinogenic substance? Shamanic cultures often associate basins or metates with fertility and visions, and after all, Newgrange is a tomb where people came (perhaps) to journey to the world of the dead...just like having a vision and travelling to the underworld.

It sounds like I'm really going out on a limb here, but there were just so many similarities between Newgrange and Ancient American structures like Chavin de Huantar. They both incorporate the same dichotomies that I already explained, use the concept of difficult entrance and intimidation, and there is a strange similarity between the phallic Lanzon and the spear of light that pierces the interior of Newgrange at every winter solstice. I could say so much more, but I'd like to refrain from treating this blog like an art history paper. I think Newgrange can speak for itself!

side view of Newgrange--mound with a stone facade

the 'difficult' entrance--you had to climb over that rock in order to enter

the stone facade, reconstructed from the original materials at the site. white/black, light/dark, anyone? plus the black stones are EGG-shaped (as is the mound of Newgrange itself)

the kerbstones surrounding the structure

a kerbstone with spirals and zigzags

kerbstone pattern

small mound at the Hill of Tara

it still has a pretty cool view

bank, ditch, bank, ditch, bank...

there was no one there to explain this...but it looks pretty cool. I'm guessing that the pattern on the ground isn't original to the site.

overlooking all of Ireland--on a clear day. But of course, it rained for us.

Easter, 1916 and 2009

2009-04-12T07:09:00.001-07:00

the Jim Larkin statue and the hoisting of the Irish tricolor

the "beach"--really a large mudflat

gardens at Dublin Castle

On Sunday, I went into town for the commemoration of the Easter Rising (which actually happened on Easter Monday, not Easter Sunday...I don't know why they changed the date). After visiting Kilmainham Gaol and reading the entire body of Yeats's work this semester, it was really interesting to be a part of this occasion. People mouthed the words to the Proclamation of Independence along with the speaker, sang the national anthem, and held their children up on their shoulders to see everything better. The reactions of the people around me really made me think--living in the Dublin of 2009 is an entirely different experience from that of the older people in the crowd, for whom the idea of independence is probably still a meaningful concept. The concurrence of the Rising with the Easter holiday (which I'm sure was not an accident) mashes together those ideas of resurrection and rebirth with those of nationhood and national identity. Even the politics here are poetic!

In the land / of Ferdinand / My favorite bull / who kept his cool!

2009-03-29T10:16:00.001-07:00

we survived! (and that's why we look so tired)

the Parque del Buen Retiro (bigger than Central Park)

turtles in Atocha Station, which basically had its own indoor rainforest

the view, on our day trip to Toledo

everything was ornamented, even the balcony undersides

city wall gate in Toledo

hot chocolate and churros near Puerto del Sol!

one of about a million cows all over the city

protesters on the free New Madrid tour that we tried to take

the amazing green art (which was also in Avignon, on the side of Les Halles)

part of the outdoor Rodin exhibit

We arrived in Madrid after the world's longest overnight bus ride from Avignon--stops every three hours, mouth breathers, "Titanic" in Spanish, and of course, a healthy dose of motion sickness. Not to mention that the bus left from a sketchy corner in Avignon at 10 at night. But no worries, we survived and made it to our hostel near Sol.

Everything in Madrid was so inexpensive compared to Dublin, especially wine, which was only a few euros per bottle. At one bar (El Tigre, for anyone planning a visit), a glass of the local cidra cost 1.75 euro, and came with a plate of delicious tapas. For 3 euro each, we were fed for the night. Whoever heard of a 3 euro dinner in Dublin! (and yes, McDonald's would have been more expensive, not to mention less delicious and slightly more destructive to my arteries)

We spent a lot of time walking around, just seeing the city, in addition to visiting the Prado and the Reina Sophia (which I absolutely loved--the Prado for its "Sleeping Beauty" room, and the Reina Sophia for the Picasso and Thek exibits). We actually tried to take one of the New Madrid tours, which are free, but it never left the Puerto del Sol and only lasted about five minutes. The licensed tour guides were protesting against the tour, and then the police came and broke up the whole thing. Apparently, there's a huge dispute over these tours, because they take business away from tour guides that charge money--who say that the tours are illegal because the guides aren't licensed. The law says that only paid tour guides must be licensed, though, and these tours don't cost any money. So we walked right into a moral dilemma.

Speaking of which, we were asked whether or not we wanted to go see the bullfights, which kind of shocked me. I know that bullfighting is part of Madrid's culture, and that it still happens, but the suggestion to attend a bullfight still kind of threw me. I love Hemingway, but I could never watch an animal be tortured for sport. I'd much rather go to a flamenco show, which we did, and which was much less bloody (although I wouldn't want to get in the way of those stomping heels).

And then we missed our flight home and waited at the Madrid airport for ten hours. But it was a fitting ending, I think, for all our blunders!

"But is Snape really evil after all?"

2009-03-27T09:21:00.001-07:00

Yes. That's Alan Rickman (a.k.a. Severus Snape, Eamon DeValera, or hairdresser extraordinaire Phil Allen...depending on your taste). He came to UCD today to accept an award from the Literary and Historical Society (who also brought Heaney and Nighy).

It was really great to hear him speak--I kind of had to stop myself from raising my hand and asking if he remembered what a bezoar was, but hey that's just me. Really though, he was incredibly interesting and funny, and it was pretty much awesome. 'Nuff said.

just a note...

2009-03-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

The post I wrote about Avignon is for some reason below the photos from Bruges, and I don't know how to fix it. So if you already looked at Bruges, scroll down. Surprise!

Photo Post - Brussels and Bruges

2009-03-24T07:53:00.000-07:00

amazing clock tower in Bruges

funky trees in Bruges that remind me of the ones from that Dr. Seuss story (the one with the pants with no one in them...you know you know what I mean)

canal in Bruges

medieval gatehouse over the bridge in Bruges

palace in Brussels

Brussels cathedral!

"Wasn't me..."
(apparently all the jamb statues on this building are passing the blame for a giant fart--I swear I did not make this up! It was told to me by a Belgian. I cannot tell a lie.)

the real deal: "gauffres avec des fraises et chocolat"

self-portrait of the Mannekin Pis as a Tibetan monk

apparently Brussels is known for their cartoons! they don't have graffiti...they have cartoons.

"I´ve always wanted my own drawbridge!"

2009-03-17T14:21:00.001-07:00

my favorite street, Rue des Teinturiers

the merry-go-round at the Place d'Horloge

view from the top of the city...this is why the popes came here

gargoyle!

way #124293569 that you can tell I'm into art history: admiring the groin vaulting

Mr. AwesomeFace

the beautiful grotto where I saw a man brushing his teeth. don't drink that water.

le Palais des Papes

the window bars in Avignon deter criminals with their coolness

drawbridge!

that face = excitement that I fit under such a small doorway + my thighs are killing me

sur le Pont / d'Avignon

false doorway in the medieval city walls

From Bruges we made our way to Avignon, on probably the most spectacular train ride I've ever taken. The French countryside is absolutely beautiful, even after an entire day on the TGV. And after the wind and rain in Ireland and Belgium, the warm breeze and blue skies of Avignon just made me want to stay there forever. I may have shamelessly taken a nap standing up while waiting for the bus.

We saw the Palais des Papes (where I almost passed out--woo hoo!), the Musee du Petit Palais, the Pont d'Avignon/St. Benezet and about a million and half side streets--it turns out that Avignon is a really small city, and unless you brought someone to nuzzle with in the Place d'Horloge, you may run out of things to do. But no worries! We became excellent conversationalists. And I managed to meet up with my friend Raine, who is au pair-ing and teaching English in Avignon. I hadn't seen her in almost a year, so it was so incredibly nice to catch up.

If anyone reading this manages to make it out there, we happened to go to this amazing restaurant that you should definitely try. Without a doubt, it was the best meal I had across Europe. On the Rue des Lices, it's called L'Epice & Love, and it is adorable, delicious, and not expensive at all. The chef brought our dishes out and emphatically explained to me that I must eat my chicken "avec les doights" (with your fingers). So I did! I mean, when someone tells you to do something in French, you just do it. Even when everyone else in the restaurant is staring.

The waitress tried to steer me away from the passionfruit cheesecake offered for dessert, saying that it wasn't like American cheesecake, but I pressed on intrepidly, and it was amazing. I've never had anything like it. Basically, you'll just have to go to Avignon and try this restaurant for yourself--but brace yourself, you might not be able to get the cheesecake since they change the menu every day, basing it on what looks good at the market. Is this not the coolest restaurant? And I even forgot to tell you that they had kitchen tools hanging in the window and seashells in the sink. Amazing.

And now for something completely different...

´´But why is he wearing CLOTHES??¨

2009-03-17T14:02:00.000-07:00

The next stop on the Big Trip was Belgium--first Brussels, then Bruges. We arrived in Brussels safely, and soon found ourselves in the midst of chocolate heaven. Every store was selling chocolate truffles, pralines, bars, etc. Many of the chocolates were in the shape of the Mannekin Pis statue--apparently the legend goes that a boy was lost in the woods, and his father told the villagers that if they found him safely, he would erect a statue of his son in whatever position he was found to honor his rescuers. He was found ¨watering the flowers,¨ hence the name. Brussels was having some sort of exhibition involving the statue and different types of costume, so we never actually got to see it in full deshabille (is that how you spell it?). Very sad.

We were only in Brussels for about a day and a half, but we also managed to eat Belgian waffles and visit the Musee des Beaux Arts, which was great. They have some Bruegels and a Bosch that I´ve never seen before, which I was incredibly excited about.

We took the train over to Bruges, thinking that all of our travel woes were over...whoops again. When we went to the ticket window to pick up our TGV tickets to Avignon, we were told that our tickets had already been printed out, and that we either had to pick them up wherever they were floating around, or get them in Brussels. So we ended up wasting a few hours the next day going back to Brussels to pick up our tickets, which was quite unfortunate, because Bruges is a really pretty city. The chocolate museum was kind of disappointing, but our hostel was surprisingly nice. It had its own bar and restaurant attached, and they gave us a free Belgian beer sampler. Along with dark, blonde, and cherry beer, I also tried a raspberry one and another called Floreffe--all delicious. Belgians know their beer.

We trekked across the city at 5:30 in the morning to catch our train, and left for Avignon...

(pictures later)

"...and then they went over the cliff."

2009-03-09T14:04:00.000-07:00

The next morning, we had plans to travel to Doolin, where the famous Cliffs of Moher are. We decided to walk into town from our hotel, and consequently missed the only bus to Doolin leaving that day. Whoops! We (very stupidly) assumed that there would be at least a few buses going there per day--Dublin Bus has made us soft in the head. We begged our way onto the last tour bus going to Doolin, which was actually kind of nice because we got to stop at a few sites. This is a castle that we saw:

and the view from the castle
green green grass
not the Cliffs of Moher (but I liked these better, and you'll soon know why)
there's something in this picture that I will never see again...
the Burren! our tour bus driver had a lot of geological information for us. it's limestone.
Doolin seafood chowder
the Cliffs of Moher
tower on the Cliffs of Moher
can you figure out the puzzle now?
Doolin

an erratic rock! carried by the glaciers

When we finally arrived at the Cliffs, we noticed that it was kind of windy, but we were not deterred. I should have known something was up when I was struck by a small rock, but I carried on. The wind picked up...and up...and UP. (We found out afterward that the wind was hitting 70 mph) Long story short, my friend Prarthana was knocked down the stairs and hit her head, and in the process of trying to help her down to the visitor's center, my glasses flew off my face and somewhere out over the water. Whoops.

And now I'm in Bruges! But that's a story for another internet cafe.

"I only paid 4.50 for a Hooker!"

2009-03-07T14:10:00.001-08:00

My spring break at UCD started this past weekend, so my friends and I decided to make a short excursion to Galway before the Big Europe Trip. We bought the tickets, made the hotel reservations, and thought all was well.

As it turns out, although there is a Bus Eireann stop at UCD, and the Bus Eireann website says that the bus to Galway stops there, this is not actually true. We ended up missing the first two buses before we figured out that we had to take the bus to the city center and leave from the bus station there, which meant that we didn't arrive in Galway until the mid-afternoon, when all the shops were closing. Whoops! (little did we know, this would become the keyword for our vacation).

Galway Harbor
We walked around a bit in the city, had dinner, and decided to go to a pub and try the local brew. (Here we are enjoying a Galway Hooker--pleasantly nutty) We actually went into an awesome traditional music pub first, but it was full, so we tried this one, called The King's Head. There was a man running around in a Borat bathingsuit--not as fun as bagpipes, unfortunately, but the beer was good!
the soft-core pastel version of Dublin's famous doors
We saw the world's smallest Claddagh ring!
Eyre Square

Cajun Lame Squirrel

2009-03-03T09:58:00.000-08:00

that's the bag...for real.

I finally tried the infamous squirrel chips, and I have to say, I was disappointed. I was expecting some radical new flavor, something that really deserved the label "Cajun Squirrel." (I'm imagining a dancing, flaming orange squirrel here, possibly wearing some sort of headdress, not a sad-looking squirrel behind bars! He also can't be all that intelligent, since he can clearly fit between those fence slats. No way anyone's voting for THAT squirrel...ha!)

Anyway, the chips basically tasted like barbecue potato chips, except less amazing. I haven't had the Duck and Hoisin Sauce, but I was told to stay away from those, so I'll just relay the message.

Cajun Squirrel

2009-02-27T11:01:00.000-08:00

At Tesco today, they were selling three-packs of chips with these flavors: Fish and Chips, Crispy Duck and Hoisin, and Cajun Squirrel. Cajun Squirrel? Cajun Squirrel. I'm just not sure that Squirrel goes well with Cajun seasoning. Aren't squirrels more prevalent in the northeast? Shouldn't it be Squirrel Chowder, or maybe Squirrel Cheese Steak? I just don't know about this "cajun" thing.

Photo Post - Colours Competition

2009-02-24T10:06:00.001-08:00

VERY excited about the next jump

I'm pretty sure that this is right before I made my first mistake...

yay team! (they both got rosettes)

looking like I am about to go to my doom

this was an article being passed around about the competition that I didn't go to

jumps I didn't have to jump (probably about three times what I usually jump)

rolling around, after...

...a shot of whiskey!

Apologies...Last Week, a Week Late

2009-02-22T13:46:00.000-08:00

Sorry again for the lack of communication! Last week was incredibly busy, and this week I'm writing various midterm essays. But I'll take a break to document the events of last week, which was spectacularly awesome.

Wednesday: Jessica and I were invited to the launch of Samuel Beckett's letters at Trinity College, which was attended by so many incredible people that I can't name (my head is too full of Ottoman religious architecture). The launch was held on Trinity's campus, in the room above the bookstore where they keep the Book of Kells. Sadly, the Book of Kells was 'undergoing repairs'--I think they just didn't want to leave it out in a room full of bibliophiles. We were tempted enough by the rest of books in the room! Imagine a space right out of Hogwarts, with vaulted wooden ceilings, two levels of wall-to-wall shelving full of deliciously old, leather-bound books, and moveable ladders--and all this punctuated by life-size marble busts of former Trinity graduates, who, in an ideal world, would have been able to speak and direct us around the library. Oh, well. They looked beautiful anyway.

Various persons made speeches about Beckett, which were really interesting and made me want to read his letters. We got to hear some of them read out loud, and it seems like Beckett was really sarcastic and witty, and slightly obsessed with fart jokes (I'm not kidding.). It was a really great evening; I got to imagine myself in thirty years time, living the literary life surrounded by brilliant scholars, of whom I will still be in awe.

After the launch, we headed over to Screen Cinema for another movie from the film festival :"Tokyo!" I'd been waiting to see that for a while...and apparently so had a lot of other people. The line was stretched around the block! We got seats, though, and it was definitely worth it. I give "Tokyo!" four stars! (I know it might seem like I give everything four stars, but it's not my fault that the film festival keeps showing such great movies) It was actually three shorter films by three different directors, all set in Tokyo. Isolation was definitely a theme in all three, but they were incredibly different, dealing with transformation, the concept of usefulness, xenophobia, cultural miscommunication, and extreme social hibernation (the hikikomori, which, by the way, is a really interesting phenomenon and something that you should read about. Check the NY Times Magazine archives). Two of the directors are known for doing horror films, so just imagine how eerie these were.

Saturday: I saw another film, "The Burning Plain." I actually had no idea what this one was about...I'm not sure what made me buy a ticket, but I'm really glad that I did. I won't say anything else about it, other than the fact that I also gave this one four stars. It's the kind of movie that really unfolds within itself. You'll just have to see it to find out what I mean! (if you're not a fan of movies that make you cry, maybe avoid this one.)

I also got a chance to walk around the city a bit more afterwards. We ate lunch at the Epicurean Food Hall on Liffey Street, which was great since Danielle has been craving burritos. Sadly, my Greek food was sub-par, and now I'm craving burritos.

Sunday: Finally, the horse show! One of the girls on the team was nice enough to let me ride the bus with her, so there was no aimless wandering this time. I saw the end of the dressage competition, which was fantastic. I really wish that the IHSA had more room for different types of riding. The UCD team competes in dressage, show jumping, and prix caprilli (mini dressage, which was what I did), and they have polocrosse lessons! They also compete in a tetrathlon--running, swimming, shooting, and riding a jump course. These people are seriously awesome.

Anyway, the dressage riders were amazing to watch, which was good considering that I have had virtually no instruction in dressage. My own test didn't go incredibly well, but hey! The judge's comment card--which I was so excited about, considering that the IHSA never gives feedback--said "You have a nice quiet seat. Well tried." So, not the highest of praise, but I'm proud of myself for getting out there and competing when I had no idea what I was doing.

Aside from the fact that UCD competes in so many more 'genres' of riding, the show atmosphere was utterly the opposite from the shows that I'm used to. The IHSA has incredibly strict rules about alcohol consumption, and competitors usually don't talk to each other. When there is negative talk, it's usually meant seriously, and can get really petty. Well here, it was the complete opposite. One guy (not a competitor) actually showed up completely drunk, holding a liter bottles of vodka. Between the final rounds of dressage and showjumping, the last two competitors had to sit on male team members' knees, take a shot of whiskey, and then roll around in the dirt. There were tables full of sandwiches, chips, tea, coffee, etc for everyone, and members of both teams were talking to each other, singing dirty songs and good-naturedly insulting each other. I think the IHSA should adopt the shot-of-whiskey competition...I'm sure it would make a lot of the riders less nervous...

Pictures to follow!

Bill Nighy!

2009-02-17T12:58:00.001-08:00

The Literary and Historical Society honored Bill Nighy with the James Joyce award today...and I snooped through the window and caught a glance of the man himself! So excited!!

"I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes, feel it in my to-oes, yeah!"

film festivalicious

2009-02-15T13:59:00.000-08:00

really cool monument outside Screen Cinema

Saint Stephen's Green

National Museum of Ireland - History and Archaeology

This past weekend has been pretty busy--the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival started on Friday, and I've been going to a bunch of the movies. So far I've seen four ("The Grocer's Son," "Good," "Gitmek: My Marlon and Brando," and "Dogging: A Love Story"), and it's been a really interesting experience. The audience is asked after each screening to give the movie between one and four stars...makes me feel important! Various people involved with the movies are often present as well, which is really cool. The film festival does a Q&A with one of them (usually the director), so you get the inside scoop. I never knew how personal a film festival was, but I like it! I've decided to review the movies for you, but I promise not to spoil anything.

"The Grocer's Son": ****
This was absolutely beautifully filmed and acted, and set to music that fit it perfectly. Set in the French countryside, "The Grocer's Son" is a story about a prodigal son and a way of life that is changing and disappearing--as romantic and idyllic as that sounds, the film manages to skirt the edge of nostalgia, avoiding melodrama and the sickeningly sweet. All of the characters, including the people Antoine meets on his forays in the grocery truck, are fresh and darkly comical. The contrast between the film's humor and its deep sadness was really what made this movie for me.

"Good": *
This title is extremely ironic. Ostensibly an interesting concept--an attempt to show how good German people were swept along with the Nazi party during World War II--"Good" pretty much fell on its face with every scene (my fault for thinking that Viggo Mortensen was worth watching when not on horseback). Either the film was just fuzzy at the beginning, or someone thought it would be a good idea to use filmography to echo the evolution of John Halder's view of the Nazi party, from blurry to clear. Halder's character also has a strange gimmick; every so often, he hears people singing. This does not add anything to his character, or to the movie. It only makes him seem insane. The film is incredibly melodramatic, to the point of being painful to watch. There are so many films out about the Holocaust this year--I'd recommend staying away from this one and seeing those that have actually won awards.

"Gitmek: My Marlon and Brando": ***
I like movies with an opinion, and this movie definitely had one. A true story about Turkish actress Ayca Damgaci's journey to find her love, Kurdish actor Hama Ali, in Iraq just as the war begins to escalate, this film really drew its strength from Ayca's rage and desperation. She is most definitely not a typical leading lady, which the film is well aware of, but her love and determination are wholly redeeming. Similarly, Hama Ali's video love letters at first seem cheesey, but in reality are genuine and (by the end of the film) excruciatingly painful. We see so much of the landscape of Turkey, Iran, and Iraq that many Americans will never see; the land is so breathtaking, and the destruction so rampant. There is a lot of anger in "Gitmek," and justifiably so, but the film's anger and rawness are what make it worth seeing.

"Dogging: A Love Story": ****
This film goes in a completely different direction--it's more of a documentary-like romantic comedy with a controversial twist. I'm not sure what made the writer interested in dogging, but it made for a really great movie. The actors were brilliant, and the script was hilarious. The characterization of the main characters, as well as the people in various vans and cars, was really, really excellent. People that seem either obscene or uptight are reversed; the young, aspiring pimp was one of my favorites. If I say too much, it would ruin the movie, so I suggest that you just go see it.

I also saw the first two movies by myself, which means that this weekend, I finally went somewhere on my own! It was a momentous occasion, fraught with dangerous beeping crosswalks and strange glances from strange people, a ghostly bus stop and theaters of dizzying height! See, melodrama is completely fine if you're not Viggo Mortensen (sorry Mom, I know how much you love him).

Mission Accomplished

2009-02-11T13:38:00.000-08:00

I came to Ireland and got to hear Seamus Heaney speak. I hoped, before I left, that I'd have some opportunity to stay in touch with poetry, but I didn't seriously expect to hear a reading by one of my favorite poets. Last year, at the same time that I was taking a class in contemporary Irish poetry (and reading Heaney's entire collected works), the poetry that I was writing suddenly became more real in some way; I'm pretty sure that the overlapping of these two events was not coincidental. My poetics have changed since then, and I'm sure they'll change again, but in the beginning, Heaney (along with Mahon and Muldoon as well) was a huge factor. So, this night meant something in a big way. I'm actually kind of disappointed that I didn't wait around and try to actually meet the man, but there were so many people there, and if I were in his shoes, I'd probably be fed up with all of the camera flashes and the awed faces (mine included).

During the Q&A, what I wanted to ask--but didn't have the guts to--was if he ever doubted himself as a writer. Getting past my own hang-ups and cliches was, I'm sure, a phase that everyone goes through, but does the self-doubt ever go away? Since I didn't ask him, I suppose now I'll have to wait years before I figure it out, if ever. Let's hope I get another poem out before that day comes!

On another, more terrifying note, a second spider has taken up residence in my apartment. It's bedded down outside my bedroom door. I'm so excited about all my new spider-friends.

Things I Have Learned Since February 3rd

2009-02-10T16:11:00.000-08:00

1. The Common Irish Cold is brutal and persistent.

2. Tesco's delivers! Now I don't have to waste precious time going to the grocery store every 2 days to refill my refrigerator with incredibly perishable foods!

3. Kickboxing is a dangerous sport (by that I mean gym class). You might faint if you don't bring water.

4. Seamus Heaney will be at UCD tomorrow! All I have to do to see him is sign up for the Law Society, for a few paltry euros.

5. An Irish load of laundry (Irish load of laundry = 0.5 US loads of laundry) costs 6 euro at UCD. I might not be quite as fragrant as usual. Luckily, it's so cold here that people hardly ever sweat! Unless of course, they kickbox.

6. There is a spider living in my bathtub. He's not paying rent, but I'll offer him sanctuary for now. It's cold outside, and the birds are huge!

Photo Post - Snow and the City

2009-02-03T14:39:00.000-08:00

the view from my window yesterday morning

the River Liffey from the bridge to O'Connell Street (after getting my immigration card)

the amazing not-brownie

Dun Laoghaire: "Dun Lee-ree"

2009-02-02T04:51:00.001-08:00

a Christian Science building with beautiful architecture

the Dun Laoghaire International Food Fair

no caption needed

a church in Dun Laoghaire

Dun Laoghaire harbor

I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last post! To tell you the truth, there wasn't much to tell about last week, but I've been meaning to write this since Sunday.

As you can tell from the pictures, I got off campus on Sunday with a few friends. We went down to Dun Laoghaire, which is on the coast--should have worn more clothing. What with the wind, and the sea spray, and the extreme cold that has settled on Ireland in the past few days, it was absolutely freezing. Luckily, we were on our way to a food fair that made it all worth it! My friend Danielle was disappointed with the lack of Spanish/Latin food, but I love all food, and what variety of food they had was great. I had a gargantuan falafel wrap for lunch; it had some sort of spicy sauce in it that went perfectly with the as-good-as-the-falafel-from-Israel falafel. It was really that good. After my never-ending falafel fantasy, I convinced myself to try a suspicious-looking substance at the sugar-free, gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free dessert stand. It turned out to be some sort of cacao and coconut mixture, with a naturally sweetening ingredient, and it was amazing. I will be attending many food fairs this semester, I can tell! Next week, Thai cellophane noodles and savory crepes.

I was also a huge fan of the location, despite the cold wind. There's a causeway with a lighthouse that I didn't get to explore, and the (slightly terrifying) waves were breathtaking (so much so that I risked my camera lens trying to get pictures of them...sorry if there are little dots on the pictures. That's the salt!). It made me miss Maine, and think of traveling to more natural sites in Ireland. Horse trekking, caving, hiking...it all sounds like fun.

It's been alternately snowing and hailing here for the past few days, which was pretty to begin with, but has ceased to be amusing. Lugging my laundry to the laundry room seems less and less appealing. Yesterday, since it was my day off from class, I thought I'd take the opportunity to register with the Garda Siochana as a foreign resident. I also thought that I'd have to wait in a shorter line because of the slush outside, but little did I know that I am apparently a wimp. We arrived at Burgh Quay at three in the afternoon, waited half an hour to take a ticket, and were told that our numbers wouldn't be called before 5:30. After a leisurely lunch, we showed up again at five, and didn't leave again until eight. At least I have my identification card! I really hope that no one asks to look at it, because it is honestly the worst picture ever taken of anyone anywhere. Imagine, after a day of sloshing through the snow and waiting in line for three hours, that you were surprised by a camera that was inconveniently at the wrong angle to your face, and you have just imagined my picture.

In other news, I finally discovered what 'Americano' coffee is: watered-down espresso. I feel slightly insulted! Or I would, if the scones here weren't so delicious.

photo post - Max!

2009-01-26T11:33:00.001-08:00

sorry these are so blurry! the light was pretty bad inside and no flash for horsestiny jump!

look at those feathers!

ADORABLE.

Ceilli: "Kay-Lee"

2009-01-24T03:50:00.000-08:00

one of the many strange birds that roam around campusfish and chips at Beshoff's!

Trinity College main entrance

a church off Grafton Street

as opposed to the Mediocre and Exceptional Cigar Emporiums down the street

this might be on Baggot Street, but I'm not sure

This past Wednesday, I actually got the chance to go to a ceilli, which is an Irish dance. I didn't get any pictures of it, though, because I was actually dancing myself (not for long, though, since there was a lot of whirling involved). It was a lot of fun to see a traditional Irish get-together; there were actually people there promoting an effort to get students to speak only Irish on a specific day. Apparently Ireland has a goal to have Irish spoken across the country on an everyday basis.

After the ceilli, however, I stood outside in the rain for just a little too long and ended up with an Authentic Irish Cold. I've spent the past couple of days moping around my room and blowing my nose, but hopefully I'll get better soon. A very nice pharmacist from Boots helped me find the cold medicine, which apparently is not kept on the shelves in Ireland. On the upside, due to a few fevers, I've been warm for the first time since arriving here! Maybe this is the secret to surviving the cold weather.

Despite my Irish Cold, I managed to make it out to the equestrian club trials on Friday. I had to go out to Bray, which was about a forty-five minute bus ride and what should have been a five minute walk. My friends and I got incredibly lost though, and wandered around for half an hour in the dark before wandering into a swimming facility and asking for directions. Luckily, the trials were running late and I made it just in time to ride. They threw me up on what looked like a Clydesdale cross named Max (possibly with some fluffy teddy bear genes as well), and we rode for about ten-ish minutes, just walk-trot-canter in one direction and then a few small jumps. Max, although very gentlemanly, was not really interested in bending. Overall, it was a fun experience, but I'm actually hoping that I didn't get picked for competition so that I don't have to have my show gear shipped from the U.S.

Today, at lunch with Emory's program coordinator, I discovered that Emory will pay for me to travel in Ireland! They won't pay very much, but if I stay in a hostel, they'll pay for me to travel to Galway and stay for two nights, which is pretty exciting. So as soon as I kick this cold, I want to start making plans.

p.s. I dedicate this post to Marie, who interrupted me in the middle of writing it.

An Era of Responsibility (I promise not to be so philosophical all the time)

2009-01-20T12:28:00.001-08:00

watching the inauguration in Astra Hall

celebrating the inauguration at the student bar

some unexpected blue sky at the Stillorgan bus stop

President (!) Obama has promised that America is entering a new age, of responsibility and action. I know this because UCD very thoughtfully hosted a live viewing of the inauguration in the Student Center, which I just barely made it to (thankfully, my professor was American and let us out early to "go watch TV" with a knowing wink). It takes someone with a strong presence to quiet a crowd of hundreds of college students, particularly when said students are rowdy Americans who have been given free beer; I think it says something that from thousands of miles away, Barack Obama was able to hold our attention from the moment he opened his mouth to take the oath (minus a small collective snickering when the camera panned over Bush in the crowd--Sorry George!). I usually feel incredibly awkward when people clap in movie theaters, but everyone was clapping and cheering and on their feet, and I would have joined in had my hands not been shamelessly full of the free food.

I can honestly say that he held us spellbound. I do take him seriously, and I do find that his speech resonates with me; because of the situation that our entire world is in, of course, but also on a more personal level. This is a time of real responsibility for me. In the next year, I suppose that will be more obvious as the end of my college education looms closer, but right now I am also more responsible for myself than I have ever been. So many things are different here, from the ice cubes (which are cultivated not in a tray, but in a plastic, latticed "ice cube bag") to the style of education.

Although yesterday was technically the first day of classes, I didn't have any to attend until today, which definitely turned out to be an adventure. It may have rained again, but I wouldn't know, since I spent the entire day in class (five classes, to be exact). My first class was incredibly disconcerting; it turned out that everyone else had a syllabus but me, and had been made aware of the fact that we were supposed to have read "The Prioress's Tale." Oops. When I politely asked the professor where I could find the syllabus, she told me that she was the wrong person to ask. This experience is just one example of the great divide between UCD, where I am expected to find my own syllabus and take responsibility for my inability to navigate the school's website, and Emory, where seminar professors will give you a bit of slack for being confused.

I'm not saying that either one of these systems is superior, but I do think that this semester will teach me a lot about responsibility. I haven't been given a brand-new kitchen with a full-size refrigerator that will hold all the food I could possibly need; I've been given a basically functional micro-fridge complete with dodgy micro-stove, and I will (/have already) be reduced to eating bread and jam for dinner if I have no food. That kind of thing is small-scale, but that's the general idea. I need to hold myself accountable for the time that I have spent not exploring, because I can't yet take the bus or walk around by myself. I'll give myself a little slack for coming from a small town, but, quite honestly, Barack Obama was entirely right about this responsibility thing (although he probably wasn't referring to me). When you don't take responsibility, things don't change. Goodbye, status quo! Hello, National Museum of Ireland and a brand new president!

That Was Actually In the Handbook.

2009-01-17T15:27:00.000-08:00

If you're reading this, I'm going to assume that a) you already know me or b) you were intrigued by the title of my blog. If you picked Option B, let me introduce myself. I'm a junior at Emory University, where I've been expanding my brain capacity in the subjects of English and Art History. In my spare time, I write poetry, ride opinionated horses, make interesting facial expressions, and create my own original dance moves (which are currently catching on across the Atlantic). This semester, I'm studying at University College Dublin, where sunshine seems to be a rare occurrence--but I'm learning to love rain, and of course, William Butler Yeats.

If you're in Category A, I miss you all and I'm thinking of you over here across the water. I promise to keep in touch and update you on life-changing events. So far, I have learned three things:

1. Water pressure is beautiful
2. Driving in your lane is optional
3. The grass really is greener

I'm not sure where to start exactly, since I've only been in Dublin for four days. Despite the rain, wind, and cold temperatures, I'm really looking forward to living in this city. UCD's campus is only a 1.80 euro bus ride away from the city center, so hopefully I'll be able to report on many future explorations, in Dublin as well as throughout Ireland. So far, I have walked down Grafton Street, had a Guinness in Temple Bar, and overpaid for my groceries (as well as tripping down the bus steps and generally making a clumsy fool of myself).

The weather was incredibly bad today, so I spent most of it inside, drinking tea, but hopefully tomorrow I can get out of my room and walk around a bit. St. Stephen's Green, which is a park near the main shopping area, has been calling to me. I really can't get over how green the grass is here; I thought that it was an exaggeration, but the grass is really a different shade entirely. It's hard to tell when the rain is pouring down and the wind is making small tidal waves across the lawn, but the grass is almost unearthly green, as though the chlorophyll has been distilled. The view from the plane, of neatly geometric green fields, is really stuck in my mind. I came to Dublin for the city, its literature and history, but I want to go south, north, and west as well. I can't know enough about this country. (expect a lot of poems about the color green)