"For the Craic"

Ireland is a country with a rich cultural history, centered around the countryside, past and current belief systems, and the former language of the island. "Irish," as this branch of Gaelic has been deemed, is still taught to students through secondary school, although most people here speak English and little to no Irish at all. However, there are a few little linguistic gems that have made it into mainstream speech here, my favorite being the word "craic."

"Craic" basically means fun, but somehow has a more abstract meaning than that. It's often used in the phrase "for the craic," as in "all for the sake of having a good time." I think the fact that this word, out of all of the lovely Irish words in existence, has made its way into the mainstream English of the area is very indicative of the values deeply rooted in the culture. No matter how awful the economy is, or how dreary it can get outside, you never need to justify going out to have a laugh with your friends. In fact, the latter seems to be thought of as a staple for everyday life.

The Irish have been through a lot, and are still going through some pretty heavy stuff, but it's given them strength and it's made them fighters. But to be clear, I don't mean this in any violent sense. As sappy as this may sound, I think that this whole idea of throwing all the drudgery of the current climate out the window and having a beer with friends shows how strong they are. Because, unlike many places in the world, they never, never lose their community when things get rough. I think this sense of community is inherent in ideas like doing something "for the craic," which assumes that you'll be enjoying the company of others.

You can sense in everything how proud they are to be Irish and to be associated with the community and strength within Ireland. I think this shows up most in their culture of hospitality and their culture of living for the good times, both of which they are held accountable for by the very notion of what it means to be Irish. No self-respecting Irishman would deny a man directions or turn down the chance to have a good chuckle. The Irish can find the good everything, and they live for that good with everything they've got.

Different School System is Different

If you are like me, and I know that many of you are, your sense of self worth is strongly tied to the grades you receive in school.

And as several of you probably already knew, different countries have different school systems, which use different grading systems.

Despite my previous experience abroad, I forgot this last bit of crucial information about two weeks ago.

I received an email alerting me that my first assignment of the year had been graded, and was available for pick up in the English Department Office. (It’s all very official, you have to sign in a paper when you turn it in and sign out the assignment when you pick it up.) Feeling both confident and curious about my progress so far in the program, I went to pick up my paper. I walked out of the office, flipped to the last page and stared down at my paper in shock.

I HAD GOTTEN A 64.

I was crushed. I couldn’t believe I’d done so badly on my first assignment of the program. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I came to the horrible conclusion that I was no longer good at school. I went to the restroom and tried my best to calm down. When I was as close to calm as I could manage, I made the incredibly depressing walk to my professor’s office to ask her what I could do to improve. The whole way I tormented myself with images of being chased out of the English department by an angry mob made up of pitchfork and torch carrying professors. (We are Medievalists, after all.)

If you are like me, and I know that a few of you are, you know that when you don’t want to cry that talking is the worst thing you can possibly do. Keeping this in mind, I made sure to give only brief responses to her advice. The other two professors who share her office stared at me with pity in their eyes. I tried my hardest to avoid looking at anything but my worthless assignment. I just barely had the water works under control. Finally, I nodded, said “thank you,” walked out of the office, and began speed walking toward the bathroom.

“Wait!! What was your name?” I turned and saw my professor.

“Elizabeth.” I whimpered.

“Come back in for a moment.”

I walked back into her office where one of the other professors greeted me.

“You’re American, right?”

I nodded.

“You’re probably worried that you did badly—but here a 70 is an A.”

It turns out that I actually got a B+, and everything is fine. Oh dear.

Bagels and Coffee

I have at last moved into my apartment for the year, and I’m thrilled to say that I have two lovely roommates who are doing graduate degrees as well. Classes are in full swing, and I've been so busy that I haven't had much time for anything but reading, finishing my next set of graduate school applications, and the usual amount of procrastination. I've been meeting lots of new people, but I still find myself thinking of home, and all of the people I miss there. But I do have a few tricks up my sleeve to combat that sort of thing, and plan on putting them all to use while I'm here, and especially leading up to Thanksgiving!

Here is my first bit of travel advice for you all: Sense memory is both your worst enemy and your greatest ally when battling homesickness. Try to avoid it where it can hurt you and take full advantage of it where it will help you.

For me sense memory either triggers or soothes away homesickness through the craving of or eating of food, respectively. Usually homesickness is brought on due to Europe’s distinct lack of decent Mexican food. Until recently I would merely attempt to combat this with chocolate—which is admittedly much better here—but I have now discovered a much more comforting combination.

Bagels, coffee and I go way back. It all got started when my sisters and I would go with our Mom to work in Coeur d’Alene during the summers and, inevitably, would be just enough behind schedule that we needed to grab breakfast on the run. This tradition of ours has continued for many years: on early morning trips with my Dad back down to college, or as a quick breakfast before a day of running errands with the family. This summer it was my breakfast of choice on (devastatingly) early mornings before class. It is because of the latter instance that I got to know the awesome girl who connected me with her brother and sister-in-law who live here in Cork. So, as sappy as it sounds, I love bagels and coffee because of the people I’m with when I’m either buying them or eating them. I’ve found a great place for bagels here near the main campus, and it’s been a great comfort to me since I’ve been here.

This brings me to my second bit of traveling advice for this post: when in a new city/country where you don’t know many people, find yourself a coffee shop that you like and claim it as your own.

My coffee shop was easy to find as, in the manner of most of Cork’s buildings, it is painted a neon color and is within a reasonable walking distance. The place made a great impression on me the first time I went in, as they gave me a cup of coffee despite the fact that I was about a euro short that morning. It has become a place of refuge after early morning Latin classes and a place to prepare mentally for long evening seminars. Before I met many people, it was also a great way to get my “people fix" for the day. However, there are always those days when even food and the familiar comfort of “my coffee shop” won’t quite cut it, and that's when I bring in the big guns.

Third bit of travel advice: No matter how old you are, make sure you have a consistent means of communicating with your parents.

I come from a big family and even though at home it feels like we can't get a minute to ourselves, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we miss the noise and chaos when we aren't together. It can even be difficult to do homework without the background noise my family usually provides. Thus, it has been crucial to have internet in order to Skype home. One of the first things I did when I arrived was get internet, and I think I can honestly say that I've spoken with a family member everyday. I seriously wish I could hug the people who invented Skype--there's truly nothing better than actually seeing the person you're talking with and I think it's helped me immensely.

Despite being a bit homesick, I'm still thrilled to be living abroad again. I'm also very lucky that I have so many people looking out for me here. I have the Spokane connection I've talked about before, but I also have my adopted Aunt and Uncle who live about an hour out of the city, and they've been wonderful as well.

I hope you're all doing well, and I promise to try to not go so long between updates!

A Colorful County

After two weeks in Cork I think I can safely say "I’m going to like it here." I’ve admittedly only been an hour’s walk in any direction from my apartment, but I've liked what I've seen and there’s a culture of hospitality in Ireland where people go out of their way to make you feel welcome—and it’s working!

Cork is an adorable, quirky little city. Unlike any other part of Ireland I’ve seen, most buildings and houses (apparently in the entire county) are painted bright colors. This trend is most apparent from my lovely campus, where you can see this colorful city stacked on top of itself all the way up the hills and thinning out into the countryside. It sort of lets you know right off the bat that the inhabitants don’t take themselves too seriously and adds a bit of whimsy to every walk I take.

View of Cork from campus...if you look really closely you can see a row of lime green apartments at the top of the hill!

The River Lee runs throughout the city, and there’s a really cool area downtown (sorry, no pictures yet!) where there are all these bridges linking up both sides of town. The main University campus is built around part of the River Lee, right where Saint Finbarr—the Patron Saint of Cork—built his monastery and school. You can tell they’ve tried to preserve the monastic feel of the area through the campus architecture, even allowing ivy to cover the older buildings.

Main Quad

Near the main campus car park

In addition to exploring my new city, I also had the chance to go to a small coastal town in County Cork called Cobh, formerly known as Queenstown. Cobh (pronounced “cove”) is a much more colorful place than even my city, perhaps by virtue of having so much of the town concentrated in one area. It’s one of those ridiculously picturesque places and sort of wraps around itself all the way up to a gigantic gothic cathedral that overlooks the bay.

Cobh, Co. Cork, Ireland

For being such a small place Cobh has a ton of history attached to it. There are several plaques and statues throughout the main road immortalizing historical events Cobh is connected to, many of which memorialize tragic events at sea. The first person ever to be registered at Ellis Island left from Cobh, and there are now statues of her in both ports. Cobh is perhaps more well known as the last port that the RMS Titanic left from, and there is a very moving plaque in honor of the Titanic just across the street from the John F. Kennedy Memorial Park.

President John F. Kennedy Memorial Park, Dedicated in September of 1966

Annie Moore, a fourteen-year-old Irish girl, traveled with her two little brothers to the States in December of 1891. She was the first immigrant registered when Ellis Island officially opened in January of 1892.

The southern part of Ireland is slightly warmer than the rest of the island because of a very warm jet stream that curves around the coast. The Irish here are very proud of this climate fluke and tend to celebrate the extra four degrees of warmth (I presume) by planting what most of us would consider tropical plants. All around Cobh (and some places in Cork) there are large gardens full of ferns and—I love this—PALM TREES. Yes, my friends, those majestic Arecaceae we so often associate with Hawaii, the Bahamas, and generally warm places, do in fact grow here in Ireland. Again, very whimsical :)

A cottage garden in Cobh

Back in Cork things are about to get busy, which will be quite a change after two weeks of just doing readings for school and wandering around town. Next week is my Orientation and Registration week, and it now appears that classes won’t be starting for me until October. However, I'm not one to begrudge more down time and this will give me a chance to settle in once I move. Tonight I'm going to a ukulele orchestra concert--very fitting considering I now live in the "tropical" part of Ireland.

Hope you're all well!

Arrival in Ireland

Yesterday, after almost 24 hours of travel, I arrived safely in Ireland. I took a cab with a very kind driver who helped me get to my dorm reception (in a building about a ten minute walk from my dorm) and checked in. I was exhausted, so I decided to get another cab to help me get all of my things up to my building. My driver was completely wonderful and even helped me take all of my bags to the elevator, stating that he has two daughters and was glad to help.

I got everything into my living room and went down the hall to see my new bedroom—and found that there was someone living in it.

What apparently happened is that the girl who is currently living there extended her lease by one month to finish her thesis, and the lady booking my room had completely forgotten about it when she assigned the room to me.

To make up for it and to prevent me from being homeless for the next month, they have given me the dorm room of all dorm rooms.

Although it is in an undergraduate dorm (I am currently the only occupant in the building) the room is gigantic and I have a huge window with a great view of the town.

Fake Dorm Room

Real view from Fake Dorm Room

All the same, it’s a little lonely and I can’t wait to have roommates, but luckily school starts in two weeks and I’m meeting with the sister-in-law of a Spokane friend tomorrow. (My friend’s brother married an Irish girl and is now going to Med School where I’m getting my MA)

In the mean time, I'm going to finish my bowl of euro-staple "whole grain" Cheerios and have a look around Cork :)

Math was never my thing...

In the last entry I talked about how I have three weeks until I leave—the truth is that I, in fact, had four weeks at the time I was writing. (This is not the first time that I've allowed wishful thinking to get in the way of reality and mathematics.) However, since reality and my wishful thinking have finally aligned, I can now say with full confidence that I have one week before my departure.

Naturally I have already started my packing process—mainly weeding out what I need to take and what I don’t need. Although it's slightly more complicated than that:

Going to Europe always requires more attention to style. I grew up in a grungy, medium-sized city and went to a college with few who cared about the newest trends—particularly shoes, which occasionally weren’t worn—and I’ve never had much of a grasp of fashion. It’s always a shock to me when I go abroad and discover that my favorite near-worn-out jeans and a black tank aren’t glamorous enough for going out. And no, you can’t wear flip flops. Ever. This stylistic ignorance likely stems from my dependence on my baby sister: if she isn’t with me when I shop for clothes, it’s usually a disaster.

Right now, I've thrown as much European-esque fashion as I can into my suitcases: I have skinny jeans, two pairs of knee-high boots, black flats and heels which I pretend will help me blend in. Realistically, I'm guaranteed to stick out like a sore thumb, as most Americans do when they travel. The nice thing is, since I'm going to a place that is typically colder on a sunny spring day than the last day of autumn here in the states, a certain degree of practicality is allowed (I think.......Kate?) and I might be able to get away with my boring, long-sleeved shirts and sweaters.

I haven't even gotten to the books yet...

Looking Forward to the Stories

In about three weeks I will be picking up and moving to Ireland for almost an entire calendar year. This was a very last minute decision, and I'm super excited about it. Ireland is one of my favorite places, and I'm looking forward to visiting all of the places I couldn't the last time I was there. I'll be dealing with school work and a thesis during all of this, but I'll definitely be making time to travel around the country.

I'm now in that stage of my pre-trip organization where things are starting to fall into place: I bought my ticket, my living situation is all figured out, I've been in contact with my program coordinator, I've received my summer reading list--and yet I am completely disorganized on the home front. I still haven't done easy but important tasks like locating all the documents I need to register for my immigration card, and yet even this is overshadowed by the gigantic amount of laundry I have to do before I can pack, although the packing doesn't phase me.

Now I don't deny that this is weird, but I LOVE to pack. I obsess about luggage the way that normal people obsess about shoes, cars, and domestic animals. I even have one of those nifty hand held scales that make it easy to weigh your luggage, because staying under 50 pounds is crucial. I am definitely better than you at packing.
Additionally, I am finishing up my intensive summer class and trying to say goodbye to as many people as possible before I leave--it's hard to see everyone though and I know that I'll have to settle for skyping many of you when I get there--and when I get internet. I'm also going to try and soak up as much sun as possible as I have chosen to move to a place where there is an average of 100 foggy days per year.

Love you all and will keep you posted! (pun maybe intended)