Heavy

Going to Northern Ireland this weekend was an eye-opening experience if I've ever had one. Before coming to Ireland, I sort of had a vague notion that Northern Ireland was separated for some religious reason, but it wasn't until taking a history class here did I understand the conflict between the Catholics and Protestants, the Irish and the British. Once our bus crossed over the border from the Republic of Ireland into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, I felt even more ignorant since the tension was so much more present than I could have imagined.

Ireland is a fairly young country in that they only broke away from British rule in 1921, when they officially decided that Northern Ireland would belong to the Queen. Since then, the Irish have been fighting to reclaim the six counties in the north and the fight has been a bloody one. The Irish Republican Army, who are either freedom fighters or terrorists depending on whose side you're on, believe that physical force and violence, like bombs and shootings, will allow them to unite all 32 counties in the Republic of Ireland once again.

Peace walls were erected in order to physically separate the Catholics and Protestants, who fight more over their representation of the Irish and British than actual differing religious beliefs. These two groups demand equal services from the government, which means that in Belfast, for example, both sides of the peace wall get the same number of schools, public swimming pools, football fields, etc. There is actually a gate that closes at night to keep the groups from mixing after dark.

In 1998, a ceasefire was called in order to stop the violence by the IRA and to try to establish a more peaceful state. This meant the building of more peace walls and just more secretive violent attacks.

In 1998, I went to Disney World for the first time. Talk about perspective.

So, being briefed on conversation etiquette (no political discussions in the pubs unless you clearly know whose territory you're in, and even then, be careful), we headed up to Belfast on Friday and had a bus tour of the city. There are murals on so many buildings depicting different historical events and differing between Catholic and Protestant areas.

It's pretty clear which territory is which as the Protestant curbs tend to be painted red, white and blue, and the Catholic shops tend to look very Irish and have Irish names. Every citizen of Northern Ireland has dual citizenship with England and Ireland, but the passport they choose to carry speaks volumes for their political beliefs.

We then arrived at the Belfast Peace Wall, which is literally just concrete and barbed wire separating the neighborhoods. There is actually a gate that closes at night, fully separating the two. People from all over the world come and sign the wall, offering messages of peace and hope. Of course, I had to add mine.

The tour guide said that the murals and walls bring much tourism to the area and helps with the economy, but that leaving the murals and walls up only means continuing the conflict. Those who live there are at a crossroads as to how to move on.

We went out at night to the pubs, where the heaviness of the political mess isn't as intense. We were in a pretty neutral area, so no one was saying much either way. There was a live Irish band at the pub, and I bought their CD for 1o pounds. One of the guys in the band offered to sign it for me, and asked me what I wanted it to read. Forgetting I was in UK territory, I said, "I don't know, write something in Irish." He looked at me like I told him to write something in Swahili and said, "I don't know Irish. I could ask my wife if you really want me to." Worrying that I might have offended him, I quickly apologized and told him English was fine, so I got, "To Meghan, Best Wishes."

The next morning a few of us got up before the sun to head down to St. George's Market, where they were setting up to sell fish, meat, bread, pastries, cheese, etc. Colleen and I split a delicious potato and cheese pancake, then I got a tea, a red velvet cupcake and a croissant for the road.

On our way to Derry, we stopped at the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge for some sightseeing. We all crossed the rope bridge, and disobeyed trespassing signs once again.

Then we headed off to Giant's Causeway for some more sightseeing of some rocks that were naturally eroded away to look like towers.

We piled back into the bus and headed off to Derry, where the very large majority of the population is Catholic and identifies with Ireland. We arrived and got a walking tour of the town, which is the site of the Bloody Sunday massacres 30 years ago, where police opened fire on a peaceful protest, where most of the participants were teenaged boys.

This sign usually says, "You are now entering Free Derry," as opposed to the British name for the town, Londonderry. In memory of one of the boys who was killed on Bloody Sunday, someone put his eyes up over the sign instead.

Then we saw the Protestant Loyalist area, where the residents choose to live behind two fences. However, the taxpayers are the ones paying for the fences, which is a major point of contention for Derry residents. Nowhere else in the United Kingdom could one religious group get others to pay for their segregation. The tour guide said that at night, bombs still get thrown over the fences by rowdy teens who feel it's now their job to continue the fight. However, amidst the broken class scattered on the streets and the barbed wire and security cameras on every building, he feels that Derry is a safe place where there don't need to be fences and walls. He believes that the main fear of the Protestants living behind the fences is that if the boundaries come down, their children might actually, gasp, become friends with Catholic children. Pride is so important to the Irish that they don't want to give up on anything.

We checked into our nicest hostel yet, as you can obviously tell from the pictures. Four of us had our own bathroom! With hot water! Oh, and an insane asylum's warden used to live here and he killed his family in our room. But we had hot showers!

At night, we went to a local pub, where tourists were very welcome. Before I had even taken off my coat, a few men at the bar asked me why in the world I was in Derry. Once I said I was in Dublin for the semester, they asked if I was Irish. I told them my last name and they said, "Oh, well then you like the IRA?" A dumb, "Uhhhh..." came out of my mouth before I said, "We don't need to talk about the IRA." The men were obviously IRA members at this point, since they started saying how great it was, so I politely excused myself to find my friends. Not that I was in any danger whatsoever, but it's hard to listen to the history of this conflict and then sit down for a pint with people who are so very into the politics.

The next day consisted mostly of the bus ride home, only to hop back on a bus into Dublin city center to watch the Super Bowl. The game was obviously great, I love when Peyton Manning throws those beautiful touchdown passes, but I was so physically and emotionally drained from the weekend that I just about fell asleep in my chair. It didn't help that the game was over around 2:30 a.m. here and that we had no American commercials to keep us occupied in between plays.

I'm glad I had the opportunity to experience this weekend and the conflict first hand, but it certainly wasn't uplifting. It was absolutely draining, but equally as necessary.

To the North we go

That mug of the queen on my newly converted cash can only mean one thing: Northern Ireland this weekend! Well, okay, I guess it could mean a trip to London, as well, but I'm not going there so work with me. Here's to avoiding any major religious conflict! Although, that would make quite the blog post.

When we get back on Sunday, we're all heading over to a Super Bowl party at a pub with the DCU American football team. It doesn't come on until 11 p.m. here, but there's no way we're missing out. We don't have class until 2 p.m. the next day, so we'll all have time to rest.

Keep an eye out for the blog post on Monday!

Current obsessions

Not every day is full of new experiences and exciting adventures, but I've enjoyed incorporating the little aspects of the culture into my daily routine. They may not be the best representation of Irish-ness, but I've embraced them.

Ever since going to Galway and singing this song on the bus and in the pubs, I've been listening to it on repeat. I got the band at one pub to play it after much persuasion and maybe some light flirting, but they were reluctant because it's a bit of a touristy request. Whatever, I'm a tourist and I love it.

Also, the chocolate. Hershey who? Honestly, I have begun a love affair with the Cadbury egg display in the convenience store on campus. Only .75 Euro?! I'll take 12! Yes, Cadbury eggs are available at home, but they're just THE candy here, so they're much more available. And possibly more delicious?

So perhaps neither the chocolate nor the song should be invoking this cultural response from me, but I'm just soaking it all in, enjoying every last bit.

Galway Girl

Disclaimer: I just had the best weekend of my entire life and will most definitely be gushing about every moment. None of the pictures do anything that I saw justice. You have been warned.

Our trip to Galway this weekend was beyond amazing. Not only did I see some of the most beautiful sights in Ireland, I just felt so lucky to be doing so. I'm living in a gorgeous country with breathtakingly picturesque views and the most charming men in the world. More on them later, I'm going to start from the beginning.

FRIDAY

About 40 of us left by coach bus in the afternoon with our 29-year-old history teacher, Caroline, as our chaperone and tour guide. She does these tours with her cousin all the time so she's a pro. We drove through the countryside, seeing sheep, cows and horses scattered across the famed 40 shades of green. We rolled into Ennis, a town on the way to Galway, for the night. We checked into our hostel, claimed our bunk beds and went exploring for about an hour before dinner. The town was so quaint.

We came across the beautiful Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul.

We spent the rest of the night eating dinner and going to pubs with our teacher, who wanted to make sure we all got Irish boyfriends by the end of the night. Both at the pubs and the only nightclub in town, I could only catch glimpses of her flitting around, bringing over groups of cute boys with accents. We were at one pub during someone's hen party (bachelorette party) so we all danced around the bride-to-be to the live music. An Irish guy tried teaching me how to dance, but it was laughable since I had no idea what I was doing. He did say I spun better than the Irish girls, but I'm sure he was just being nice. Whatever, that was good enough for me.

SATURDAY (which will forever be known as the best day of my life)

The wonderful parts didn't start right away. We woke up in the hostel only to find that the gas had turned off or broken over night, meaning that there was no hot water. There wasn't even cold water. The only water there was to bathe in was a slight drizzle of the iciest water I have ever felt. The shower also turned itself off every 15 seconds, so I had to keep pushing the button, asking for more and more ice water. After crouching under the hand dryer in the bathroom for a few minutes, I stopped whimpering and was good to go.

We got back on the bus, where Caroline got on the microphone to tell us what we were looking at and also to get details on everyone's luck with the locals. We drove by a famine memorial that depicts the true story of a four-year-old boy, who was left at the door of a workhouse with a note from a priest pinned to his shirt that said his father and mother had died, and if he was not let in, he would also starve to death. Unfortunately, when the boy was found on the doorstep, he had starved.

The next place we went was to the Cliffs of Moher. The sight of the cliffs literally took my breath away. The sun was shining and warm, the waves were crashing against the enormous cliff faces, and with the slight breeze running through my hair, I thought that this absolutely has to be what Heaven is like.

Beyond the wall barricading tourists to the safer parts of the cliffs, there was a sign to keep us from exploring on our own. You can imagine how well that worked.

The added views that disobeying the sign allowed us to see were well worth being delinquents.

We sadly left the cliffs, but Caroline made up for it when she brought us to her family's farm for some hiking and homemade cooking.

The higher we hiked up the mountain, the more spectacular the views became.

Including of Caroline's cousin. Remember when I said the pictures wouldn't do anything justice? I was including this man. Every girl on the trip was giggly and pathetic over him.

But back to the scenery.

After we finished hiking, we came inside for some homemade quiche, pasta salad, potato salad, brown bread, apple pie and fresh cream.

Then we all crammed inside the tiny living room to listen to some of the neighbors play traditional music.

After sadly leaving the farm, we got back onto the bus to drive to Galway City. We checked into our second hostel and went to eat dinner, where I had delicious Irish stew and brown bread. We spent the night going out with Caroline once again and when a band took the stage at one pub, I ran up and requested they play "Galway Girl" for the Americans. It took a bit of convincing since the song is pretty touristy, but they finally agreed. We all danced and sang at the top of our lungs for the rest of the night.

SUNDAY

We woke up early to go and explore Galway City in the daylight.

Once it opened at noon, we were the first ones inside the T. Dillon Claddagh Museum, established in 1750 and home of the original claddagh ring. In Irish, "claddagh" means "shore." I ended up buying a ring, which has "TD Original" stamped on the inside.

The rest of the day was spent on the bus heading back to Dublin. We stopped for a few minutes in Clonmacnoise, where we saw the ruins of castles and churches. We were all pretty exhausted at this point, so we snapped a few pictures and got back on the bus.

When we got back to DCU, everyone said how nice it was to be home. It was the first time that many of us felt like this place was home, at least for the time being. It's overwhelming how lucky I am to be able to see and do all I that I did this weekend, let alone stay here for a semester. I feel so exhilarated and free to be figuring out how to live in another country and blessed to be able to make mistakes along the way and still have the time of my life.

I've got a job!

I have officially (pending the interview) been placed in an internship for the second half of the semester here in Dublin! It's such a relief. The program heads had told us that we wouldn't find out our internships until we got over here, but once we did, I realized that I was one of a very small group who didn't have a placement yet. Whew, finally I can stop wondering.

I will be working for a quarterly magazine, the Irish Arts Review. Here's the company overview provided in the email:

"First published in 1984, the Irish Arts Review is the definitive journal of art and design in Ireland. Now published four times a year to the highest design and production standards, this beautifully illustrated 150-page review of Irish painting, design, sculpture, architecture, photography and decorative arts is essential reading for lovers of Irish art. With articles written by experts on subjects ranging from pre-history to contemporary, together with artist profiles, critiques of new Irish architecture, interviews with leading Irish artists, designers, sculptors, and photographers, a quarterly diary of events, auctions and exhibitions around the country, the lavishly produced Irish Arts Review is a vibrant and authoritative quarterly review of Irish art and design...Irish Art Review is literally considered to be the Bible of the whole artistic society in Ireland and thus offers a fantastic opportunity for a creative student capable of working on own initiative in a highly rewarding environment with plenty of scope for diversity."

You could say I'm pretty pumped. I feel like this is going to be very fun and so educational to actually be working for a magazine.

Adding to my excitement is the fact that I'm leaving for Galway, on the west coast of Ireland, tomorrow morning with my class. I won't have my computer with me, but rest assured there will be a ridiculous amount of photos to see when I return. Cheers!

I woke up before the sun today...

...and got my arse kicked. After getting four hours of sleep, I was on a stationary bike at 7:45 a.m. taking my first spinning class at the gym. Colleen and I were two of only four people crazy enough to wake up before the crack of dawn to be yelled at by an Irish woman in spandex. Sure the workout was intense, but the toughest part wasn't even the pedaling. Who decided to design a bike seat and make it so freaking uncomfortable? No one who ever took a spinning class, that's who. Nevertheless, I'll be back for more.