Fridays are the best days; no class, no obligations, no crowds. On this particular Friday I walked to Whiterock Beach to be alone and clear my head. Good choice.
When I reached the beach I approached it like some do a temple. I removed my shoes and socks and daintily stepped onto the cool sand. I sat in the middle of the beach, turned off my phone, took out my pen and moleskine and took a deep breath. I knew my surroundings were worth writing down, but was overwhelmed with no idea of where to begin.
Then I had an idea. I would play a game, which I named The Senses Game, and focus on one sense at a time to describe what was around me. Here's what I wrote down (taste was n/a, mostly because there was so much else to take in, and I became cold and left):
Sound - A paradox, these waves. How powerful they are; push, push, crash. But they're actually big softies; hush, shh, shh, fizz.
Smell - Sea...not salty, not heavy. I struggle with placing it. When I inhale through my nostrils they are cleared. Refreshed. (I am ill, complete with a stuffy nose.)
A side note, since I thought the first beach visitors were notable - Humans are silly. They flit around just like the birds. I enjoy watching the older woman run from the waves like a child. She laughs, I smile. I think she enjoys it too.
Feel - Grains between my toes as I dig them into the sand. How can individual grains feel so different than when I run my fingers along the surface? I still invite the grains to make a home in every crease of my jeans, under my finger nails. The smooth texture of this shriveled seaweed. I'm curious to know how, when I rip it to further explore, its innards are still wet. The warmth on my face granted by a groggy sun and in the depths of my pockets for my feelers. In the name of research I tested the water. The froth was a teaser, my barefeet just got a moment of the frigid wet before I played the role of child and danced back to my camp in the dry sand grains.
Sight - A man only wearing shorts, smiling, arms out, strolling the surf as I amuse the idea of him taking a dip. I mutter, "he's crazy", pause and finish with, "we all are". The divots and cast shadows on the sand. It reminds me of my father telling me that it's all about lighting. Beyond the man amoung the waves are sleepy mountain tops met by streaks of cloud. Jutting rocks that don't give in to pushy waves. Flittering white specks in the sky that are the gulls when sun hits their wings. The itself...I think of John Lennon's description of his mother's eyes in "my" song, I know what color her eyes were.
I left the beach feeling centered and in good spirits. I told myself that if ever again I lose sight, touch, control of my day, to find the nearest tranquility and take time to know what I'm living in. I have often said "words cannot express" in reference to the quality of this life, but my little game might bring me closer to finding the right words.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
I kissed the Blarney Stone!!
...Which was the perfect ending to our weekend. Allow me to start at the beginning.
Seven of us traveled to the southern city of Cork for our first weekend trip outside of Co. Dublin. After a four hour bus ride, we found our destination, Kinlay Hostel (The horror movies were proven false; the hostel was nestled on a hill by St. Anne's church and we found it tidy and warm). We spent the day taking in free galleries and the city's eye candy, which included exuberantly colored buildings and a river flowing through the center. We eventually found the jackpot; their notorious English Market. This I found quite ironic seeing as though Cork's nicknames include "the rebel city" and "the real capital of Ireland", yet they are so fond of this market. Regardless, we loaded up on cheap loaves of fresh bread, lamb meatballs, brocolli, olives and feta cheese (they had an olive stand that would put Pittsburgh's strip district to shame, I hate to admit), and headed back to the hostel to prepare a feast. After struggling with the gas stove and speaking broken french to other hostel guests, we sat down as a big family, said grace, and indulged in our inexpensive supper. We waddled back to our room to digest with stories and laughter before eventually going out to take in some night life. We went to a pub that advertised traditional music, but ended up listening to locals sing along to American tunes. Our other source of entertainment came from an Irishman named James, who eventually got down on his knees and asked me to marry him. I told him that I was taken, breaking his heart for about five minutes before he was back to doing some form of jig.
On Saturday we arose and took a bus to Kinsale, a town known for its sailing and gourmet food (it would have been my cousin Rueben's dream come true, so I won't rub in how delicious that chicken was). It was a lovely town, but the constant stream of drizzle led me to believe it would be more suitable in the summer months. We headed back to Cork to spend our evening disecting dreams and dialects with a local we had met in the market.
Sunday I woke wishing my boyfriend a happy birthday and anticipating our trip to Blarney Castle. We toast and tea for breakfast, compliments of the hostel, then packed up and moved out. When we arrived at the Blareny Castle estate (after paying 6 euro at the gate), I immediately dubbed it the most beautiful area in Ireland I've seen thus far. Imagine an enormous weathered structure that looks just as much a part of the landscape as the surrounding mossy trees and meandering streams. We were surrounded by every shade of green, Irish mist and flowers in full bloom in late January. After climbing the slick, winding staircase in the castle, backpacks and all, we reached the open upper level. Of course the altitude turned me into a pile of nerves as I clutched to the slick, rusting railings. The older woman behind me was a big help, encouraging me to keep going (maybe because she felt as nervous as me!). I managed to shimmy my way over to a smooth, blue-grey chunk of stone and lay on my back beneath it. After controlling my nervous giggles, I bent back as a man held onto me and kissed that 400 year old stone. Ewwww!! Now I can say I kissed Winston Churchill...kind of.
Being blessed with the gift of gab and view from the top of the Blarney Castle was a perfect way to end the weekend.
Seven of us traveled to the southern city of Cork for our first weekend trip outside of Co. Dublin. After a four hour bus ride, we found our destination, Kinlay Hostel (The horror movies were proven false; the hostel was nestled on a hill by St. Anne's church and we found it tidy and warm). We spent the day taking in free galleries and the city's eye candy, which included exuberantly colored buildings and a river flowing through the center. We eventually found the jackpot; their notorious English Market. This I found quite ironic seeing as though Cork's nicknames include "the rebel city" and "the real capital of Ireland", yet they are so fond of this market. Regardless, we loaded up on cheap loaves of fresh bread, lamb meatballs, brocolli, olives and feta cheese (they had an olive stand that would put Pittsburgh's strip district to shame, I hate to admit), and headed back to the hostel to prepare a feast. After struggling with the gas stove and speaking broken french to other hostel guests, we sat down as a big family, said grace, and indulged in our inexpensive supper. We waddled back to our room to digest with stories and laughter before eventually going out to take in some night life. We went to a pub that advertised traditional music, but ended up listening to locals sing along to American tunes. Our other source of entertainment came from an Irishman named James, who eventually got down on his knees and asked me to marry him. I told him that I was taken, breaking his heart for about five minutes before he was back to doing some form of jig.
On Saturday we arose and took a bus to Kinsale, a town known for its sailing and gourmet food (it would have been my cousin Rueben's dream come true, so I won't rub in how delicious that chicken was). It was a lovely town, but the constant stream of drizzle led me to believe it would be more suitable in the summer months. We headed back to Cork to spend our evening disecting dreams and dialects with a local we had met in the market.
Sunday I woke wishing my boyfriend a happy birthday and anticipating our trip to Blarney Castle. We toast and tea for breakfast, compliments of the hostel, then packed up and moved out. When we arrived at the Blareny Castle estate (after paying 6 euro at the gate), I immediately dubbed it the most beautiful area in Ireland I've seen thus far. Imagine an enormous weathered structure that looks just as much a part of the landscape as the surrounding mossy trees and meandering streams. We were surrounded by every shade of green, Irish mist and flowers in full bloom in late January. After climbing the slick, winding staircase in the castle, backpacks and all, we reached the open upper level. Of course the altitude turned me into a pile of nerves as I clutched to the slick, rusting railings. The older woman behind me was a big help, encouraging me to keep going (maybe because she felt as nervous as me!). I managed to shimmy my way over to a smooth, blue-grey chunk of stone and lay on my back beneath it. After controlling my nervous giggles, I bent back as a man held onto me and kissed that 400 year old stone. Ewwww!! Now I can say I kissed Winston Churchill...kind of.
Being blessed with the gift of gab and view from the top of the Blarney Castle was a perfect way to end the weekend.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Inspired by Yeats
We took a jaunt to the National Gallery of Ireland today for our society class. Their special exhibit going on now is "Paintings from Poland", showcasing many Polish artists categorized in three genres. I noticed that in the wing devoted to Symbolism, several artists used flowers and serpants in the most effective ways. In Edward Okun' "We and the War", two realistic humans dressed in black hold a delicate flower in the midst of fighting snakes with butterfly wings. The snakes were so intertwined that the only things that were defined were the black clothes the couple had on. Symbolism.
My favorite piece was a humble painting by Helen Mabel Trevor, titled "The Fisherman's Mother". An old woman that was hunched over, steadied by her cane draped in rosary beads, was turned breath taking by just the right wrinkles in her skin and clothes being highlighted.
The famous Yeats family made an appearance as well. This was the only Irish painters that I found inspiring. Jack Yeats' style is choppy like Van Gogh but (for lack of a better word) muddied like Monet. Yet the thing that defines Yeats' masterpieces is what doesn't immediately catch your eye. His figures are like ghosts among his strokes, which takes a while for your eyes to adjust and find their faces. It is then that you understand the title that goes with the painting.
William Butler Yeats, brother of Jack and famous writer (and so much more), has his own exhibit at the National Library that we saw on Friday. Yeats had a way with words and tying in traditional Irish folklore with current events of his time. He was huge around the turn of the century, and is known for his famous poem, "Easter 1916". This man did such incredible things. He reminds me a lot of my brother, always thinking about what he could do next, those wheels in his mind always turning. Even though he was still writing and funding projects and opening theaters well into his seventies, he wrote at a young age, "I am persuaded that our intellects at twenty contain all the truths we shall ever find..."
Although this man influenced the country to retrace its roots and reinstilled much pride, Yeats himself was never able to learn the Irish language. This boggles my mind. His imagination and knowledge of Ireland was so expansive...why couldn't he learn the language after promoting it so much?
I have four months to find out.
My favorite piece was a humble painting by Helen Mabel Trevor, titled "The Fisherman's Mother". An old woman that was hunched over, steadied by her cane draped in rosary beads, was turned breath taking by just the right wrinkles in her skin and clothes being highlighted.
The famous Yeats family made an appearance as well. This was the only Irish painters that I found inspiring. Jack Yeats' style is choppy like Van Gogh but (for lack of a better word) muddied like Monet. Yet the thing that defines Yeats' masterpieces is what doesn't immediately catch your eye. His figures are like ghosts among his strokes, which takes a while for your eyes to adjust and find their faces. It is then that you understand the title that goes with the painting.
William Butler Yeats, brother of Jack and famous writer (and so much more), has his own exhibit at the National Library that we saw on Friday. Yeats had a way with words and tying in traditional Irish folklore with current events of his time. He was huge around the turn of the century, and is known for his famous poem, "Easter 1916". This man did such incredible things. He reminds me a lot of my brother, always thinking about what he could do next, those wheels in his mind always turning. Even though he was still writing and funding projects and opening theaters well into his seventies, he wrote at a young age, "I am persuaded that our intellects at twenty contain all the truths we shall ever find..."
Although this man influenced the country to retrace its roots and reinstilled much pride, Yeats himself was never able to learn the Irish language. This boggles my mind. His imagination and knowledge of Ireland was so expansive...why couldn't he learn the language after promoting it so much?
I have four months to find out.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Fish cakes and sea lions
The weather today blessed with good enough weather to last through our journey through Malahide. We walked beneath ancient trees intwined with ivy only to emerge at Malahide Castle (and of course I aquired a healthy collection of Irish pinecones). What amazes me the most is the amount of care and pride the Irish keep in these treasures. We joked on the way back how if that estate were in America, it would have been a parking lot right now. All of the hundreds of years they fought to keep their world intact, I think that undying loyalty reflects in the cheerful attitude they hold today. The trees alone were enough for my excitement to know I'm Irish. I'm in Ireland!! My friends and I say it every day, still trying to digest the concept. How lucky we are.
We continued to Howth, a town on the coast well known for its fishing. While we waited for a table at the Oar House, we strolled along the docks and took in the boats and frigid breeze. When I hear Maggie say, "Julia, come quick!", I run over to come ten feet away from a family of sea lions. The looked like cartoons, certainly too cute for real life. Sleek and black, with white whiskers all over. Some dogs spotted them and went crazy and it seemed as though the sea lions were mocking them, knowing they were safe in the water below. We waved to them and they waved back to us! The one rolled back on his belly and flapped his fin at us. It was unbelievable!
After lunch it started to rain and our day was cut short, but it definitely did not lack any excitement. Tomorrow we'll return to Howth for a hike up the mountain. I hear you can see all the way down the southern coast for about 100 miles or so.
Pictures will be coming soon, I know my words can't paint a fair picture for this world I'm in.
We continued to Howth, a town on the coast well known for its fishing. While we waited for a table at the Oar House, we strolled along the docks and took in the boats and frigid breeze. When I hear Maggie say, "Julia, come quick!", I run over to come ten feet away from a family of sea lions. The looked like cartoons, certainly too cute for real life. Sleek and black, with white whiskers all over. Some dogs spotted them and went crazy and it seemed as though the sea lions were mocking them, knowing they were safe in the water below. We waved to them and they waved back to us! The one rolled back on his belly and flapped his fin at us. It was unbelievable!
After lunch it started to rain and our day was cut short, but it definitely did not lack any excitement. Tomorrow we'll return to Howth for a hike up the mountain. I hear you can see all the way down the southern coast for about 100 miles or so.
Pictures will be coming soon, I know my words can't paint a fair picture for this world I'm in.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
filling pages during class..
I wrote this during my 2 1/2 hour literature class today...
It has been one week since I left my home in Erie, Pa. My patience has been tried daily, sitting through long lectures of Irish life. After the fifth hour, the sour smell and lack of fresh air sinks in. I notice the silly girl from North Carolina playing with her gums. We're all in the same boat.
My mind wonders to my boyfriend still at home. Him singing along with John Legend, patronizingly observing my efforts in the kitchen, those eyes, the few words spoken since I'm been on this glistening Emerald Isle.
I find myself in the purgatory of immersion. I've been warned to watch my self, picked up on terms like "scoop" through society lecture and learned that investment in rubber boots and umbrella proves invaluable. The American accent is always a public giveaway, but the Irish are kind people. Even in the south..(this refers to the reading we got in Southern Dubliners being in a league of their own; think Malibu or Beverly Hills goers).
I have enjoyed the company I've kept, and have learned that by 3pm I will come down with an uncontrollable case of the giggles if Maggie is sitting on my right. I am aware of the impact of first impression, but in order to keep my mind, I must become just another silly American.
Then I added...I find it no coincidence that she (the girl from N.C.) read aloud the section on South Dublin, without stopping to chuckle just once. Maybe it hit too close to home.
It has been one week since I left my home in Erie, Pa. My patience has been tried daily, sitting through long lectures of Irish life. After the fifth hour, the sour smell and lack of fresh air sinks in. I notice the silly girl from North Carolina playing with her gums. We're all in the same boat.
My mind wonders to my boyfriend still at home. Him singing along with John Legend, patronizingly observing my efforts in the kitchen, those eyes, the few words spoken since I'm been on this glistening Emerald Isle.
I find myself in the purgatory of immersion. I've been warned to watch my self, picked up on terms like "scoop" through society lecture and learned that investment in rubber boots and umbrella proves invaluable. The American accent is always a public giveaway, but the Irish are kind people. Even in the south..(this refers to the reading we got in Southern Dubliners being in a league of their own; think Malibu or Beverly Hills goers).
I have enjoyed the company I've kept, and have learned that by 3pm I will come down with an uncontrollable case of the giggles if Maggie is sitting on my right. I am aware of the impact of first impression, but in order to keep my mind, I must become just another silly American.
Then I added...I find it no coincidence that she (the girl from N.C.) read aloud the section on South Dublin, without stopping to chuckle just once. Maybe it hit too close to home.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Cheers!
You know you're in a good place when "cheers" means please, thank you and anything else that needs to fill an awkward moment. Maggie had a ball on her birthday. We woke up and took a hike up to Kilinney Castle, which has a breathtaking view of the coast from the cliffs we climbed. We met an older woman who designated herself as our tour guide, and pointed out winding pathways and celebritie's houses. We even met an orange-bellied sparrow that kept hopping closer to us after we stopped to say hello. (I have pictures of all of this, but I'm not quite sure how I'll get them up without a laptop of my own..no worries, when there's a will there's a way.)
Saturday night we got ready and headed to the pub, meeting up with another american girl, who actually goes to Clarion. 2 pints of Guinness later, an elder local named Tony had bought us our third and was singing Amy Winehouse with us and asking about American politics. We kept reassuring him that if we were easily offended, we would have stayed in the states. Grand night.
On Sunday we woke up (a little later than we had hoped) and walked to the pier and farmer's market the next town over. Lovely January day. And here's the thing: everyone was out, with their children, dogs, loved ones, even sailboats. You would never see that in the states! I can say this because I would be one of those bums to lay around inside on a Sunday afternoon... especially during a Steelers game. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to get out and enjoy the day.
Today was our first day of class. How luvely to be back in a classroom learning! Today we had Irish history and society, which will be more fascinating as the days continue.
We learned that we have a week off for Easter..we're thinking a trip to Barcelona... you can get tickets here dirt cheap, even for 1 euro. Insane. I tell you what, my time spent in Ireland will definitely give me a lesson in time management and budgeting, if nothing else.
Saturday night we got ready and headed to the pub, meeting up with another american girl, who actually goes to Clarion. 2 pints of Guinness later, an elder local named Tony had bought us our third and was singing Amy Winehouse with us and asking about American politics. We kept reassuring him that if we were easily offended, we would have stayed in the states. Grand night.
On Sunday we woke up (a little later than we had hoped) and walked to the pier and farmer's market the next town over. Lovely January day. And here's the thing: everyone was out, with their children, dogs, loved ones, even sailboats. You would never see that in the states! I can say this because I would be one of those bums to lay around inside on a Sunday afternoon... especially during a Steelers game. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to get out and enjoy the day.
Today was our first day of class. How luvely to be back in a classroom learning! Today we had Irish history and society, which will be more fascinating as the days continue.
We learned that we have a week off for Easter..we're thinking a trip to Barcelona... you can get tickets here dirt cheap, even for 1 euro. Insane. I tell you what, my time spent in Ireland will definitely give me a lesson in time management and budgeting, if nothing else.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Firsties
I came into Dublin with a hearty breeze meeting me off the east coast (believe it or not, Pop.) The time difference and sleep deprivation couldn't keep my excitement contained. After making friends with the bus and taxi driver on my way to my homestay, I was greeted with open arms by my host mum, Vera. What a peach. I've heard that we've (Maggie my housemate and I) made out like bandits with having Vera and Pat as our host parents.
The students that decided to stay in the apartments, on the other hand, have learned they have to pay for everything; groceries, heat and electricity. Maggie and I foolishly bragged about how we couldn't finish our dessert. We won't make many friends that way...
But during our break at orientation today (after arriving 45 minutes late from being lost in Dublin) we met some girls and took a lovely stroll in the rain through St. Stephen's Green. It's only about a block away from the school, and I plan on making it a habit to go there as much as possible to soak up the day and find inspiration. I want those moleskins filled by the time of my return...
A "brilliant" young man took us students on a tour around the town today and had much useful insight on Dublin. He was saying how amazing the economic turnaround has been in the past 15 years, but with that has come much disposable income, turning the youth materialistic. These are strong observations I'm agreeing with, but after living in the states all of my life I believe it's safe to say that I can make a fair comparison.
Tomorrow is Maggie's 21st birthday. We're going to spend the day exploring Dalkey and take a hike up to the castle on the hill. We'll rap up the day by finding a pub to have a couple pints.
But for now, my first Friday night in Ireland will be spent ridding myself of the rest of this jet lag, and preparing for a "luvely" weekend.
The students that decided to stay in the apartments, on the other hand, have learned they have to pay for everything; groceries, heat and electricity. Maggie and I foolishly bragged about how we couldn't finish our dessert. We won't make many friends that way...
But during our break at orientation today (after arriving 45 minutes late from being lost in Dublin) we met some girls and took a lovely stroll in the rain through St. Stephen's Green. It's only about a block away from the school, and I plan on making it a habit to go there as much as possible to soak up the day and find inspiration. I want those moleskins filled by the time of my return...
A "brilliant" young man took us students on a tour around the town today and had much useful insight on Dublin. He was saying how amazing the economic turnaround has been in the past 15 years, but with that has come much disposable income, turning the youth materialistic. These are strong observations I'm agreeing with, but after living in the states all of my life I believe it's safe to say that I can make a fair comparison.
Tomorrow is Maggie's 21st birthday. We're going to spend the day exploring Dalkey and take a hike up to the castle on the hill. We'll rap up the day by finding a pub to have a couple pints.
But for now, my first Friday night in Ireland will be spent ridding myself of the rest of this jet lag, and preparing for a "luvely" weekend.
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