Nil aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin.

This past Thursday we had a mandatory group trip to Kilmainham jail in Dublin. It was probably my favorite group outing yet. Some of Dublin's most famous political figures were held in Kilmainham (prior to it closing in 1924), including the rebel leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising. The tour guide was great, and the place is so cool and creepy looking. It was built in the Victorian period, so it has that simultaneously beautiful, cold, and spooky appearance that only Victorian architecture can have. The main room is pretty famous, so you might recognize it from various movies. Interestingly enough, we all noted that most of the single-person cells are larger than our dorm rooms which usually house two.

This past weekend a few of us decided to tour Cork and Killarney to see the Ring of Kerry. Six of us went separate from Caroline's tour in the Paddywagon, which was an awesome decision!! Their itinerary was a bit different from ours, so we only ran into them once or twice on the Ring and in Killarney. On Friday we took the train to Cork, which was kind of overpriced, but it saved us a ton of time. With the time we saved we were able to spend most of the day relaxing in Blarney. I kissed the Blarney stone! You lean back over an opening in the wall while holding on to bars for support. I'm not sure if I even kissed the right one. It's kind of gross to think about that stone, but at least there was some disinfectant spray nearby. We wandered around the grounds, which are absolutely beautiful and so peaceful when it isn't tourist season! We also walked up and down the Blarney Wishing Steps with our eyes closed so that our wishes will come true. Blarney has just the right amount of cheesiness for a tourist attraction - it isn't overkill. Despite that part of it, the castle is beautiful and still retains a sense of authenticity.

The Blarney Stone

After the castle we went to the woolen mills where I proceeded to buy out the place. Not entirely - I couldn't find a sweater I liked, but I purchased a hat, mittens, and a scarf. I justify these purchases by reminding myself that they will seriously improve my quality of life in this damp, cool climate. There's nothing like wool. Oh, and the best part of this weekend - it was sunny and mild the entire time!!! That NEVER happens in Ireland for three days straight.

Jackie and I just should have bought a sheep.

After Blarney we walked through the English Market in Cork and had dinner out where our waitress, an ex-patriot, wrote down all the best places for us to go out at night. Then we went back to our Bed and Breakfast called Aras Tara. It was a great place to stay! It didn't cost much more than the hostels in Cork and it was run by this lovely old Irish couple who made a fantastic Irish breakfast for us the next morning - eggs, toast, tomato, mushroom, white pudding, sausage, bacon, and coffee.

That night we went to An Brog, a pub that has a distinct college-vibe to it, which was a nice change from some of the places in Dublin. We met up with one of my good friends from Ellington, Caitlin, who is studying in Cork. It was great to see a familiar face! It was a really relaxed night overall, even though it was my friend Colleen's 21st birthday. She wasn't feeling all that well, so it was probably best it was so low-key.

The next morning we left early for Killarney. The bus driver was new and kept getting lost! Some of the locals on the bus had to steer him in the right direction. Even though we were running late, we called the tour company to make sure we could still make the Ring of Kerry tour for the day. That's when the upside of Ireland's non-time oriented attitude really hit me; they didn't mind if we were a bit late and even offered to pick us up at the Bus Eireanne station!

We jumped off one bus and onto a tour bus, which took us all around the Ring. This area of the country is astoundingly gorgeous - tied with my experience at Giants Causeway. I'll post lots of pictures. Because it's been unusually cold lately, the tops of the mountains were covered in snow, but the sun was out the entire day! It couldn't have been better.

When we got off at the first scenic stop I looked around, and who did I see but Jamie Blanchard! I had known she was going to be in Killarney, but I didn't remember what day and I had no idea what bus tour she would be taking. It's kind of absurd running into one of your best friends from home in a foreign country. It was such a nice surprise, and definitely made my weekend even better! We had so much fun - the tour was incredible, we met a really weird cat while at the Bog Pony stop, and all-around we just had some great times.

In front of a ring fort (aka "fairy fort")

My favorite picture yet: wild mountain goat!

That night Jamie joined us at a pub called Failte (which means welcome in Irish) for some live music. It had one of the best atmospheres I've ever experienced at a pub, and it was great catching up with Jamie. The place was mostly filled with locals, seeing as it's the off-season, but we sat next to a Swiss man who didn't seem to mind our company at his table. As usual Marie chatted away (she's such a friendly character).

The singer was incredible! He announced Colleen's birthday in the mike, which was really nice. His playlist though, was a little rough. He picked wonderful songs - all having to do with the U.S.- Sweet Home Alabama, Hotel California, even one about West Virginia. Then he announced "I hear there's some people from Massachusetts with us tonight. Here's one for you!" He sang a song about going home to Massachusetts, which he followed up with "Leaving on a Jet Plane." That was a little too much for our group. People started crying. Everyone's a bit homesick, but he was so good we couldn't be mad at him! To top it all off, he played Sweet Caroline next! We all sang along at the top of our lungs, even though some people were fighting back tears. Even in one of the most beautiful places in the world, sometimes you just want to be back near Fenway.

Overall, this was probably the best weekend I've had yet in Ireland. I really liked the group I traveled with, the places we stayed were clean and comfortable, the sights were astounding, and I got to see two of my favorite people from home! Cork is an amazing city; it has all the excitement of city life while still feeling country-esque in its hospitality. If I can, I'll go back before I leave. All the cab drivers we had in Cork were grand old Irish gentlemen. They taught us all sorts of Irish words and expressions. (How was the talent? = How were the men?). My favorite expression, though, was "Nil aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin." Translation: There's no fireplace like your own fireplace. It's near-perfect weekends like this that make me realize I'm going to really miss Ireland when I'm gone in a few months. I'm already developing deep attachments to this place. Still, there's no place quite like Boston or Ellington.

Derry and Drogheda

When we got to Derry we checked into the hostel, which was much better than the one in Belfast. We then took a walking tour of Derry. A friend of Caroline led the tour. He's not a particularly old guy, but his youth was riddled with the violence of the Troubles, so he had an interesting perspective. We walked along the top of the city walls (much like Lucca, Italy, but not as ornate) as he explained recent history and showed us how to tell the different territories of Derry. Unlike Belfast, the city has not erected any peace walls. The river forms a natural barrier, and small pockets of Protestants and Catholics on the "wrong" side paint the curbs and street lamps to designate their area. The segregation is much more subtle in Derry, and the city has a calmer, cleaner, and safer feel to it. He led us to some of the monuments and murals and discussed the role of the hunger strikers. You could tell his emotions still run high when he talks about these topics. A lot of the tour group was rather disrespectful. You'd think that some people on this trip were twelve years old. I wish we had done this trip to the North in smaller groups.

When in Derry eat at Ice Wharfs. A benefit of traveling in the North is that everything is super cheap, and Ice Wharfs is very inexpensive! That night a bunch of us were tired, and I was still sick, so we watched Father Ted at the hostel. It has to be one of the best comedy series ever. I absolutely love that slice of Irish culture. I also didn't want to go out because the town was kind of creepy that night. The whole town had flocked to the church for special services. BU, in its brilliance, had planned for us to be in Derry on the anniversary of Bloody Sunday. Derry is where the shootings took place. Some of those who did go out that night reported weird comments or feeling uncomfortable by some of the comments made. Tensions were running a bit high in the town, as would be expected.

The next morning was the wreath laying ceremony and people were just starting to prepare for the march as we left. I didn't go to the wreath ceremony, since the tour guide had told us it would be family members of those killed. Some people went, but I personally felt it would be infringing on a moment that, despite studying it, I really know little about. I can't feel their pain and sorrow when they remember that moment, and I felt intrusive going to watch as they grieved, so I skipped it.

We stopped in Drogheda for lunch. Our Paddywagon driver didn't want us to get crumbs on the seats, so he made us all go stand outside in the cold to eat. Then we went to the only notable thing about the town, which is a relic in the church. They have the head of St. Oliver Plunkett, the last Irish Catholic martyr. Truth be told it looks like a creepy dead guy's head in a box and nothing special, but at least I had sense enough not to take pictures of it, which many view as sacrilegious, especially while people were in the church praying! Traveling with the group this weekend frustrated me beyond belief.

I've never been around such a large amount of people and found so few people I like. I've already angered the vegetarians on the trip, which makes up 1/4 of the group. Basically someone looked out the window and said, "oh look at the cute baby lambs!!" So I said, "Oh! Tasty!!" as a joke. I forgot they were vegetarians. Then they exploded on me with a tirade of "If you like eating something with a face!" and "You're going to Hell!" Now I may be wrong about this, but I'm pretty sure God, in the Bible anyways, is ok with people eating lamb, but that's just my interpretation. I still think that joke was funny. I'm totally cool with vegetarianism, but not when you do it to be trendy and then push it on other people and, quite frankly, think you're better than someone else for it. That's just so lame and cliche. I like meat and there's nothing wrong with that!

The people who I do like, though, are fantastic. Jackie, Marie, Colleen, Rachel, Ingrina...they're all a ton of fun to hang out with. So I'll stop my complaining and just be grateful that they're on this trip with me. They keep me sane!

Next trip is Cork and Ring of Kerry this weekend, and I'm staying at a B+B! I'm taking a break from hostels :)

Giants Causeway

After Belfast we drove to the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge and Giants Causeway, which are the top scenic spots in Northern Ireland. The rope bridge is shut down this time of year due to high winds. No one gave them the notice that I survived the Cliffs of Moher in hurricane conditions. I totally could have handled that rope bridge. It's basically famous because the location it's in is absurdly beautiful and frightening. People used to fish for salmon from the spot. The viewing point provided some great pictures. Can you see the thin little bridge?


Giants Causeway made the trip a hundred times more manageable and enjoyable. The lady at the shop made the best hot chocolate ever! They're also one of the few places to accept euros in Northern Ireland (I had to convert some money to the pound). After a rest we made our way down to the Causeway. I was not prepared for how breathtakingly beautiful it would be. It's by far my favorite scenic place in Ireland so far, even more so than the Cliffs and the west coast! My pictures don't quite do it justice, but hopefully they'll give you an idea of what it looks like. There's a great myth about Ireland's most famous giant Finn McCool that explains the formation of the causeway, but I can't tell it with the finesse that my history teacher did, so I'll let you look that up on your own. Due to volcanic activity the rocks formed in such a manner that they form columns that are almost always six, eight, or twelve sided. They look like ripped-up cobblestones! I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story. I would go back there just to spend the entire day, or even a weekend, relaxing.

The Giant's Boot

It was so comfy!

A faraway picture of the "organ" rock formation.

A closeup

We walked pretty high up the mountain trail.

There was a really cool cow just hanging out at the top.

In conclusion, I <3>

Belfast

It's been a week since I've updated. Basically I've filled my time with recovering from being super sick all weekend and working on a big history paper that was due today.

The most exciting stories I have to share come from this past weekend, when our entire group (46 people) boarded a bus and went to Northern Ireland, specifically Belfast and then Derry. Just in case you were wondering what kind of bus we got on, here's a picture:


That's right, they told us not to wear any provocative colors like green or orange, but then they rented a giant kelly green bus with every symbol of Nationalism you could possibly imagine splashed across its side. There are even a few sheep on it for good measure.

That was a strange start to the weekend to say the least. We then went to Belfast, where we got off the Paddywagon because it was too dangerous to drive around the city in it (they've had several of these things blown up before, I wonder why???) and we hopped onto a white, slightly less conspicuous bus to do the mural tour. Here are some of the murals:

When I was taking a picture of the mural to the right, a woman and a man walked out of one of the houses and looked at me with what I can only guess was disdain and annoyance. I felt extremely uncomfortable acting like a tourist in a place like this, especially coming off a bus with 46 gawking, loud students. As simplistic as this sounds, it's shocking to remember that people live here on a permanent basis. They live with these murals, some of the violent ones next to schools and playgrounds, and some people are quite proud to have them displayed on their houses. The anti-American sentiment in this area and the self-alignment of their causes with conflicts in the Middle East, expressed in the murals, graffiti, and swastikas that litter the "peace" walls, would make anyone half-aware of the polical climate extremely uneasy.

Belfast is the strangest, and hands-down most depressing, city to which I've ever been. Even a lot of the "nice" areas look like slums. The entire thing is a maze of these "peace" walls, which at times reach 40 feet high and have barbed wire along the top edges. The gates are locked each night to keep the two communities (think Catholic and supporters of nationalism vs. Protestants and supporters of unionism to keep things simple) from essentially attacking one another. Sure, the fighting hasn't continued via the major organized groups for over ten years now, but there are still plenty of dissenting groups acting out in violence, one of the main one's being the "Real IRA." And why do the walls have to be 40 feet high? To keep the other side from throwing rocks or grenades over the top. The streets are marked as Catholic or Protestant territory by "curbing," a process of painting the curbs in the Tricolor or colors of the Union Jack. The two groups live out their lives separate from each other, almost never using the same facilities - schools, hospitals, community centers, and of course churches. The city literally spends billions a year to maintain double of everything.

The British government, currently facing its own issues, has essentially abandoned this territory, not that they've ever pumped many resources in to it (that I'm aware of, I'm sure I could be enlightened a bit on this area by someone more knowledgeable on British politics). There isn't even a border guard when you cross from the Republic of Ireland into the North. It's been an economically deprived area for a long time. It's incredibly depressing; you can feel the tension in the air. They've tried to create a mini-London with a "Belfast Eye" and everything. No one rides it. The place isn't ready to support tourism, although that's what it's pushing. From what we've learned in Irish history (which may be heavily biased), Britain has largely turned a blind eye to the area, and still unionists continue to fight politically and sometimes physically to stay a part of the UK. But how could people whose relatives and friends have shed so much blood for the cause ever think of being disloyal to Britain, even if she's turned her back on their plight?

Still, at this point in time it is probably unrealistic to think that the Republic of Ireland would be able to acquire the six Northern Ireland counties. Putting aside the major political and religious issues, while the Republic would be glad to see her territories return, it would not be able to support them economically, particularly given the current recession, which has essentially brought the Celtic Tiger to a screeching halt. The North needs quite a bit of money pumped into it, allocated into job creation and the educational system. But I won't pretend I have the solution. Only one thing's for sure - there will be no easy answers for Northern Ireland.

That evening we went to Stormont, the Parliament in Northern Ireland. It looks like a beautiful old British estate, as if Mr. Darcy is going to pop out from around the corner. If I hadn't been so sick this part would have been the highlight of the trip. Still, it was very educational. Members of every political party in the Parliament came to talk to us and answer questions we had about Northern Ireland's political situation. Interestingly enough, they all mentioned how there are now more peace walls in the city than at any other time. For those who think that Belfast is now stable, think again. A few hours in Stormont and it's clear that Parliament is by no means working together for progress. There are no plans in the works for integration, and they clearly have difficulty focusing on any issues outside of unionism vs. nationalism. It is not yet a functioning state.

WARNING: MORE POLITICAL SCIENCE TIRADES TO FOLLOW: Now there is a generation of young teens who have grown up just as politically radicalized, just as angry, just as impoverished, and just as poorly educated as their parents. A big reason for the peace agreements was weariness from violence. All sides had suffered such great loss and were tired of fighting. This generation, while they may still be feeling the effects, does not remember living in that state of constant battle. This is an uneasy peace. In five or ten years time, when these children are in their 20s, I am predicting that the place will erupt in violence once more unless something drastic changes in the direction of public policy. As it is now, the place is essentially a time bomb.

Enough of my political rants for now. I'm thinking I might study Northern Ireland for my work for distinction thesis. The only thing I would go back to Belfast for is the politics. I would not go back as a tourist. It feels rudely insensitive, out of place, and quite frankly a bit frightening. I don't get my tourism kicks from visiting war zones, and this is not a battle ground of the past, for the people of Belfast it is still today's reality.

Oh, and I'd go back for this:


It may not look like much, but what you see on that plate is called boxty, chicken and lentil boxty to be exact, and it is one of the most amazing potato pancake creations imaginable. It's not a stereotype, the Irish really are brilliant with potatoes. Boxty is most popular in the North, so if you ever go you have to get some!! Ryan's was a fabulous pub/restaurant. I chatted with a little old man from Derry who told me the myth behind red hair. I'm still having trouble finding the Gaelic word he called me - I'll have to ask one of the teachers. Basically the myth goes that sometimes when a female human has a baby the fairies switch the human child for one of their own at birth. The way to tell a fairy from a human is the red hair. Apparently my red hair can be good luck in most circumstances. Fairies have a strange place in ancient and modern Irish lore - they're good luck and can grant wishes, but they're also to be feared if they're upset (don't go near a fairy fort). He ended the story with an ominous warning: "Just remember, in the end the fairies always come back to reclaim their own." But my mom already promised that she's going to keep me, so I don't have to worry too much. No one messes with my mother!

I was running a fever and such so I went back to the hostel early. BU did a fabulous job picking the crappiest place I have ever seen. The hostel was painted the colors of puke, was filthy, and our door wouldn't lock, and trust me, you want your door to lock in Belfast. Thanks BU, you really couldn't spring for a Days Inn?

The next day was a little cheerier...so I'll catch up on that shortly!