"There are babies doing Riverdance in the street!"

I went out last night. This morning (afternoon), I immediately felt guilty and set about doing some work quietly in my room. I work well this way, right during the waking hours, before anyone knows I'm awake. I could hear Kasha downstairs banging pots and cooking something and she called up Good Morning to me. Little did I know that downstairs, they were laughing about how hungover I must be. Twice they called up to say there was breakfast if I wanted it. I didn't particularly, I don't like to break my rhythm when I'm working. Apparently, this was not the right response, and in comes Kasha with a tray of pancakes, strawberries, blueberries and cream. Her theory was that hungover or not, I must eat breakfast. I gave her a surprised look and told her I felt fine, I wasn't sick at all, I was just working. I have a lot to do. Either way, I got breakfast in bed.

As I mentioned, I went out last night. First, I met up with my friend Anna and her Galway friend ( I can't remember his name, yikes) at a bar called Tig Coili. We had a beer outside and afterwards they headed to the Roisin Dubh to see a band play, while I headed off to meet our other friend Helen. Helen had a friend visiting her this weekend named Claire. They were at The Blue Note, so I went off in search of this venue. I knew exactly what the place looked like, but unfortunately, I can't tell my right from left and ended up taking a wrong turn and taking forever to show up. Regardless, I found my way and we sat talking and drinking some really girly beer/wine cooler thing until the bar closed. Now, in Ireland, there are apparently two closing times, depending on where you are. So we headed out in search of our friend Kate, who was at Cuba. But upon arrival, we took one look at the door and thought, there is no way we're going inside that place. For those of you familiar with Blacksburg, think TOTS meets Sharkeys with a twist of Abella. No thank you. So we found a table at a neighboring "club" and watched all the crazies from the window. This is how we saw the old lady walking to her car at 2 a.m. When I say old, I mean this woman was pushing at least 70, if not more. She had a cane I think. I want to be her friend. Here we were, three girls in our twenties, yawning and thinking "Why are we still awake?" and this lady is showing no signs of wear. Seeing this deemed the evening a success and shortly afterwards, we left to go dodge the boys laying on the sidewalk and girls without pants and hardly any tops and made our way safely home. Earlier in the day, Helen, Anna and I went to a book launch for Rita Ann Higgins' "Hurting God" (which sounds really great from what she read to us), so I feel as though the weekend evened itself out.

Now I'm listening to quite possibly one of my favorite albums of all-time, The Stranger (thanks, Mom). Oh Billy Joel, I do love you. I'm working on one of my multiple fiction assignments and singing along to "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant". The sky outside is grey and menacing, there's been a chill in the air all weekend. Gaggles of birds keep swarming to the trees outside my window. Tomorrow I must go wait in line at the immigration office, then rush to poetry class, hopefully with immigration card in hand. Afterwards, if all goes well, I'll head to town to get my PPS number (my Irish Social Security number essentially) paperwork started. Gah. I can't wait until all of this technical/official stuff is taken care of and I can just worry about when I can have my next cup of tea. Oh life, why must you get in the way of fun? Still, no matter what, I've got Billy Joel and homework to keep me entertained. I've just got to "get it right the first time, that's the main thing". I couldn't resist ;).

A Revelation (among other things)

I think I might love poetry. I severely undervalue it and the writers, the poets. Why have I come to this conclusion? This week I've been completely bombarded with all things poetry. Monday was poetry workshop, last night we met at our instructors house for wine and poetry, today the writer's workshop speaker was a poet. Poetry Poetry Poetry. I love poetry. This is strange for me to say because I've always valued fiction and prose so much, but the way poetry makes me feel, the aftermath of all of this, is just complete happiness.

Last night, our poetry class met at our instructor's house for wine and poetry. This was the cap of my day that involved Irish Women's Writing and then roaming the streets of Galway. After a rousing discussion of the Troubles and how Elizabeth Bowen represented that in her novel, where the girl doing her presentation printed out a background specifically for me (Bowen had written an introduction for American readers especially and the girl had thought of me, aww!) and after being told by one girl in the class that I wouldn't really understand because I wasn't Irish (I don't think she meant it the way it sounded), I headed into town to kill some time before our social evening. I ran into Lisa and Sarah, two girls from my Writing course and they invited me over to their apartment so we could all walk over together.

That settled, I went in search of food (I'm always searching for food). I found a little pizza place on a side street and walked in. Instantly I thought to myself "I've been here before". A girl and a guy were working there and really having a great time. When I went to pay, I asked the guy if this particular shop had always been a pizza place. No, they'd opened in January. A girl behind me said, "It used to be a sandwich and smoothie shop". Diane Kanter, this is the same shop where we ordered our delicious bagel sandwiches five years ago. How interesting! With that, I headed off to Sarah and Lisa's fantastic apartment that is guarded by a bright blue gate. Off we went to Eva's house which was just up the road and absolutely fantastic. We spent the evening drinking wine, eating roasted pecans (yum!) and talking and reading poetry. Afterwards, some of the girls went to the Roisin Dubh for after wine drinks. I ended up talking to this really ridiculous guy with an even more ridiculous mustache, but at least it was amusing. I'm not sure he got my jokes, or if he realized that he was the joke, but oh well.

Today I had my one on one meeting with Eva about my poetry and it went really well. She's so helpful and encouraging. We went over some poetry that I'd written outside of class, before I got to Ireland. She liked things about all of them, but I'm going to post the one she described as "complete". I actually started writing this one day while sitting under a tree outside of the Media Arts Building in Blacksburg.

Tuesday Morning in May

Wake up sugar.

I pranced upon the bed

over and around you

to watch the crystals

float with the breeze

and see the sprinkles

sparkle from my fingers

into the air in the sun

Wake up Wake up

This is no confectioner's dream

You ask how I expect

to clean up this mess I've made

my mess, sweet sweet mess

The birds through the window

made me happy

The light was just so

soft oh so soft

Wake up from those linen sheets

There are diamonds in the lake

Jewels on the clothesline

and gold in the hills

Come sugar.

Come with me and we will

lie amongst the columbine

wearing lady slippers

and have tea with the hollyhock

adorned with Queen Anne's lace

Oh sugar, sugar, sugar

Wake up.

The Writer's Workshop was today as well. Our speaker was Moya Cannon, a poet and member of Aosdana. Aosdana is an organization of artists in Ireland. Membership is limited to 250 artists and is apparently a really great honor. Eva Bourke is also a member. Moya read from her collection of poems and then we had a question and answer portion which really turned into a discussion. It was so natural. One poem she read was called "Driving Back over the Blue Ridge". It turns out that Moya spent some time in Lynchburg five years ago at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts. I'll have to find the poem and post it. It really was beautiful. After the workshop, we generally have a drink or tea with the speaker, and we chatted a little bit about Virginia and North Carolina. Deirdre, a woman in our course, is from Chapel Hill and so it was really nice and felt great to fall into a conversation with someone who's so respected. I left there feeling elated over the days events. Which brings me back to my opening statement. I love poetry. On the way home, I ran into a woman and her dog. I had seen them this morning and had said hello, which is normal. She had seemed very open this morning (or afternoon really) and I think it set the tone for the day. She was speaking to an old man on the street and I stopped to pet the dog and say hello again. It was the type of exchange you have with a neighbor and it was so nice and I walked home the rest of the way feeling that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, especially when the horse near my house looked up and trotted over to say hello. This must be a good omen for the weekend.

Pink Socks and Patrick Swayze

It was bound to happen. I've been doing laundry for ages and to my knowledge I've never turned anything pink. Until now. This morning (and it was morning for once), I woke up and decided I needed to do laundry. So in went everything, including a scarf that I can't recall washing before. I spilled some chai on it last week and didn't think much about it as I shoved the multicolored strip of cloth into the washer. An hour later, I pulled out a pink t-shirt with white flowers on it. Except that this t-shirt wasn't pink when I woke up this morning. It looks surprisingly natural. The white socks also in the washer, not so much. So starts my Wednesday.

It was pouring rain this morning, but I think it's cleared up for now. I'm not sure if I should go to campus early or just pray it doesn't rain on my walk over. I've been trying to be responsible this morning. Except the Immigration Office isn't open to the public this week. Fail. 7:30 on Monday it will have to be, and probably Tuesday too. I could blame Bank of America for holding me up, but I won't say that outright, that seems too obvious. Today is Irish Women's Writing and we read "The Last September" for this week. I have to say, I like "The Real Charlotte" better. I was so convinced I would love this book too, and while I don't hate it, it's not my favorite. The class should be fun though. Then it's off to buy wine or treats to bring to our Poetry Gathering this evening. The boys made fun of me and poetry in general when they discovered this bit of information. This was after Kasha locked Ryan in his room and we danced to "Time of My Life" waving scarves around. Noel was scarred, but only after we showed him the beginning of "Cool as Ice" starring the one and only Vanilla Ice. I am so good at procrastinating. Hence, my responsible morning today.

Yesterday was Fiction class and I wanted to share a couple great lines from our instructor Mike McCormack.

"You Americans must be careful and be sure to eat well. The damp months, February and January have you all sniffling and sneezing." - Great.

"I have a loathing of boiled eggs. Food in hell." - this ones for you, SJB.

"This is where my skill fails me. I have to put a cloak on her and I can't." - In an effort to explain how stories sometimes rise from images, he grabbed some chalk and began drawing stick figures. This is where he stopped. All in all, it was a successful class.

So today begins another round of praying I don't forget anything and make it through another class and social setting. At the moment my stomach is calling, so I'm going to go feed it.

Mondays are for Winners

I have to confess something. The first day I walked to school, I passed by a Monument shop. Yes, gravestones. There is a little work yard with a fence that opens to the street. That first day I passed by and looked over where a man was working on polishing (I think?) a gravestone. He looked up and I thought "Hello, Ireland". Seriously, he looked almost exactly like the guy from "Leap Year" except the chances of him actually being Irish are significantly higher than Hollywood casting an Irish actor for an Irish part. But that's not the point. Everyday, before I found my awesome shortcut through the field to campus, I'd pass by, hoping to see him. All I found were old men. I figured, he's gone back to school or something or another. Maybe he didn't exist. BUT, I'm here today to tell you, he does. What does this mean? Absolutely nothing, but it does mean that walks in to town will now hold that special element of anticipation held dear by most middle schoolers of the world.

That was on my way home this afternoon. I had been to the cafe with some friends (yay! friends!) from class. This particular cafe had originally been the home of the owner's grandmother. It's located on Shop Street, where there are no houses (at least not anymore), so the shy brother told us they'd refitted it for a shop, but they still live upstairs. He then left when the other brother, the owner came back. I like the shy brother the best. Still, it's a really nice little place and I think I might just go back. While sitting there chatting we witnessed the following: a girl hopping backwards and almost falling, and a boy who just up and kicked a pigeon right outside the window where we sat! I gave him my best "Who do you think you are, you stupid brat" look, but it was wasted on his friends. I can only hope they adequately relayed the message.

Poetry class was really amazing again today. The theme this week was childhood, next week is love. We have some absolutely wonderful writers in this class (I'm sure we do in our other classes, but we definitely workshop a lot more in this class so far). Individual meetings with our professor are this week as well as a gathering at her house. We're going to drink wine and talk about poetry. Seriously, I don't know how I got this life, but I love it. Tonight, I may meet up with some of the people in my class to write at a pub in town. For now, I'm going to go ahead and write on my own and see where it gets me. You know, just in case.

Some Observations

As I was walking home in the rain today, well throughout the day really, I stockpiled some observations I've made since arriving in Ireland.

1) the girls don't wear pants here. No, seriously, they don't. It's all leggings and really tight skinny jeans. I'm going to have to buy men's jeans if I ever need another pair. I want to post signs sayings tights and leggings are not pants. please put on a skirt or some trousers.

2) tk/tj maxx is globally amazing.

3) subway smells the same no matter where you go. american quiznos reigns supreme.

4) the driving on the other side of the road thing should stop. everyone around the world should drive on the same side, I don't care which. it would just make things easier for pedestrians.

5) america depends way too heavily on corn products. now i'm going through withdrawal.

6) farmer's markets seem more authentic when there are piles of unwashed gigantic carrots lying in a wooden bin. not to mention huge wooden tubs of hummus.

7) no matter what, i'm always going to be a sucker for 1 dollar/euro books.

8) It's a good thing I like tea.

That's all for now. I'm gonna head off to write some stories and laze around on this rainy saturday evening.

Have you seen the muffin man?

Brace yourselves. For the second time in as many weeks, I'm baking. This time banana nut bread. Tomorrow I'll take over the world. Things are settling down a bit and the only things I must do today is go to the bank and to Writer's Workshop. I want to bring a few questions in advance, because we're expected to sound somewhat intelligent.

Yesterday was Women's Writing and holy cow, I'm going to love this class. It involves a lot of reading and discussion and it's just great. I just pulled the first muffins out of the oven (we only have a muffin pan) and the majority of them are gone. They must be passable. Success. Take that, metric system!

I just watched Noel attempt to iron a t-shirt. Boys doing domestic chores amuse me. Imagine Phillip ironing and you've got the right visual. Now they're doing laundry, it's all too much. They just left for school after asking me if they could have another muffin. They then explained they're not used to people being nice. I'm not sure if this is a ploy for more muffins or if it's true.

I'm going to get ready for class and fix some lunch and take my daily trek to campus. It's so much more enjoyable when I get to see ponies and various animals along the way. Adventures to come this weekend I hope!

All the Trees Lean Away from the Sea

The wind was really something yesterday. Outside it felt heavenly on your face, but inside it whistled and made you feel like potato soup and cornbread. If I weren't working so hard on procrastinating, I would've gone to the shop for some buttermilk. As it is, I spent the entire night working on a short story. The entire night. Gah. There was some watching of Highlander (don't judge me, it wasn't my idea) scattered through there as well, but for the most part, it was a long night. My routine will get more settled and it won't be so haphazard (at least I hope!).

We had poetry class yesterday and I must say, our instructor Eva Bourke is just simply amazing. The entire class felt like a conversation. There are some really great writers in our course and I can't wait to read what they write all semester. I hope some of that magic rubs off on my work! Anyhow, to prove I do write on occasion and don't just spend my days drinking tea and flirting with old men in the city centre, here's one of my poems from class:

Buffalo Bill's Traveling Show

From the second story

he could see her jumping

But not from the third

she broke her foot once like that

So when she stood there

in her teal ankle rainboots

he only nodded

and said he would catch her

The she flew

like off the high dive at the public pool

Screaming Watch me!

he knew he was in trouble then

There was a flash of color

and he made good on his word

but even the grass was holding a grudge

her boots stayed on

In the kitchen

there was hardly a sound

just a thud

like someone stacking wood

Over her shoulder

she remarked

to no one but the air

those are the ones that lived

Today I've got Fiction. I'm going to like this class, but I do not like my offering for this week. I began at least three different versions of this story, rewrote another version last night and still changed up a few things this morning. We'll see how it goes. After class I've got an interview for a tutoring job, cross your fingers. It'd only be two hours a week, which might work out just perfectly. Ireland's gonna work out just fine, especially if I can figure out a way to sneak away the Chester look-alike puppy from my neighbor. Or convince her that the puppy really needs to hang out with an American girl for a little bit each week. At the moment though, I think I'm going to eat some lunch and read for my class tomorrow (Women's Writing, yes!). Hope to hear from you all soon!

Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long way home

This afternoon, I felt whimsical. There's just no other word for it. After a morning of running around trying to get my i.d. card, finding a bookshop that sold the novel I need to read by Wednesday and declaring my courses, I should have been frazzled. But on my way home, going towards the bridge, I noticed a path by the river. So I took it. It wasn't much, but it wasn't the parking lot either. The path went under the bridge, where I passed two fishing rods, a boom box, and below in the water, two boys in a boat. I wound around the corner to the stairs leading up to the bridge and my way home. Now, on one side of the river is the university and on the other is a large field. On my way to school this morning, I thought to myself that I'd like to explore that field, and I wondered where it led. This afternoon, I noticed a boy in a blue shirt with a grey backpack hop over the guard rails onto a small path. So I did what anyone would expect me to do and I followed him.

We walked through the field past an old ruined building with scaffolding in the middle and through the grass onto a tiny road. Then we crossed a red bridge and walked beside a giant whitewashed wall with red paint trim. The wall turned out to be the stadium for Galway United Football Club. I followed this boy past buildings and bed and breakfasts and rock fences and then the grey backpack turned into a row of houses. So I continued alone. I found the cutest little house I’ve seen yet, turned down the wrong road and came back up again. Finally I found the turn to take me home. At the bottom of this road is a hotel and across the street you’ll find a Courtyard Marriott and a gas station. But at the top of the road there is a field with two ponies and blackberries. Then there is a house set back from the road and on the other side of the house is a smaller field with two more ponies. The boys don’t know it yet, but we’re going to feed carrots to the ponies this weekend (Kasha went to London to see Muse in concert). Personally, I think they need a good brushing and if it were up to me, I’d hop the fence and take care of that and help myself to those blackberries. But I also don’t want to get arrested, so we’ll just stick to the treats.

Tonight I plan to do my poetry homework and start reading a novel for Irish Women’s Writing. The rest of the weekend will be spent reading (a lot) and writing. Those are my responsibilities. I know that my classes are going to require a large amount of work and that it’s not going to be easy, but that is my sole responsibility. Reading and writing! I still can’t believe it. No doubt my enthusiasm will calm down in an hour or so, but for now, even though the rain has come back and my legs are screaming at me (I ended up wandering for 3 hours at least), I am content. And I hope, my friends, you are too.

There's no crying in Fiction

I think our fiction professor's exact words were "We're not crybabies here". I sincerely hope not. I'm really excited about fiction! Mike McCormack is our professor and he seems just incredibly passionate about good work and improvement and reading good books. Right up my alley. The class is starting to get more talkative too, which is nice. One woman, named Maire (Myra is how she pronounces it) has been writing in the Irish language for years and is clearly well respected. She's really nice and I think she'll be really interesting to read and to speak with. So I left Fiction elated yesterday and just strolled along the street, not really knowing where I was, but figuring Galway is small enough that it would sort itself out. I found myself near what I thought was a church (and it might be), but then saw a giant sign for a secondary school. The road curved around the Church and seemed to just rest there before stopping and turning abruptly into a long road. So I turned down this road (Preservation Road, I think) and found it to be the prettiest little street I've seen so far. The sun was out and hit the pastel colors of the buildings and it was just amazing. I'll go back there with my camera and try to capture it.

Last night, I got home and spent some time chatting with the boys. I think I might be a little overzealous when I say they're just adorable. They're both 20 (Noel's birthday is today, so he's actually 21) and students at NUIG. Noel is a first year and Ryan's finishing up. Ryan is really into soccer, and it's almost like having two brothers around. Noel plays guitar upstairs while Ryan watches soccer matches on the t.v. and shouts at the players. Last night, we watched a little bit of Jerry Maguire. Today I'm going to attempt to make a birthday cake. We'll see how that goes.

Today is 20th Century Irish Women's Writing. I'm so excited! Ideally, I'd like to end up taking Poetry, Fiction, and Playwriting, because I can only choose three. But Women's Writing just sounds like a great course, so I'm going to check it out today, and who knows? So I'm off to finish my tea and head over to campus!

We're really sorry, we're American.

It's pouring rain. Not just the drizzly little stuff we've had all day for two days, but the kind you can hear on the windowpanes. The kind that makes you want to curl up in the big blue leather chair downstairs with hot tea and the lone soft brown blanket and not move. Ever. Guess it's time to wear my raincoat with the hood.

Sunday night I went with Kasha to see Collum's band play. Mostly, he told me, they do covers. So off we went to the Cellar Bar (I know! I just loved the coincidence!). There are a lot of Americans in Galway. Usually, they're pretty easy to spot, so as I sat down with Kasha with our bottles of Miller (yes, Kasha loves Miller), I spied a large group at the table above us. I'm instantly nervous. These are young looking kids and they've obviously been here awhile. I know a member of the band, I'm sitting there with his girlfriend, surrounding by their Irish friends. The Americans are having a great time. They're dancing and singing along and just being generally rowdy, in a good natured way. Everyone else is intent on their beer or the band (which is pretty good), but there are camera flashes, squeals of delight and drunken love flowing around this table. I'm highly amused. This was probably me not so long ago, and they all look like they're twelve. Eventually, the loudest of the girls turns around, looks at me and Kasha and says "We're really sorry! We're American!" then goes back to her antics.

I was slightly pleased, but disconcerted. I thought I looked pretty American, even though I was enjoying myself quietly. But before I could start to brood, there was a familiar opening riff, and Amanda Bishop, I thought of you. Oh yes, there it was, Sweet Child O' Mine. Kasha looked over at me, I guess I had given a whoop of happiness without realizing, and then looked at the other table, who were all out of their seats now and dancing. I just shrugged and said, "We love this song!" and began to sing along.

The next day was the first day of Poetry class. With all poetry classes, I go back and forth about my feelings towards them. One minute I'm fully engrossed, the next I'm thinking, are you kidding me? So it's important to be submerged in Poetry completely, or else you start to think you shouldn't be at one with that tree, or that the candy wrapper on the sidewalk is just trash, and then it's all lost. I think I'll enjoy the class regardless. The professor is very sweet. After class, I had lunch with some of the girls. One girl kept saying, "Oh my god, you just showed up and left all your friends behind, that's brilliant!" and every time she said that I thought "Oh my god, I did, what have I done? Where is my white cheddar popcorn and that awful broken couch of Ryan's?". In fact, the lack of quality junk food is my biggest culture shock. I told this to the girls and the outspoken one turned to the others and said, "You wouldn't believe it, we went to Florida once and went to Wal-Mart, this giant store, like a supermarket, but ridiculous, and any kind of cereal, oh the cereal aisle, any kind you could ever think of, it was there." So that was that, though I was assured Galway was increasingly Americanized, which I can see from the McDonald's and the Quiznos (yes!), the Subways and the Papa John's.

We went to a play last night, called "The Silver Tassie". I have to say, without reservation, one of the best plays I have ever seen. It's right up there with "Grey Gardens". The best part? It was free. It was set in WWII I believe and just really incredible. I laughed, I cried. I also think I made another friend, Danielle from County Mayo. She drove me home last night so I didn't have to walk in the dark. It was late and I was super grateful, Galway's a small city, but a city nonetheless. I hope we'll have some classes together (she's doing her MA in Drama & Theatre).

For now, I'm off to Fiction class in the rain. In other words, dear readers, send tissues and vitamins (I like the gummy kind :)).

Don't sit that way too long, you may get stuck like that.

The house has come alive. From my room I can hear the television downstairs, no doubt being watched by Collum while Kasha cooks dinner. The spices float up the stairs and smell suspiciously like home (she's making meatballs, but the onion is so nice!). In the room next door, Noel and Ryan are talking about something (I can't tell you what, because I can't understand their accents for the life of me). I'm writing and reading alternatively, which isn't really a big change from what I'd be doing in recent or distant memory. I do like this moment.

I slept in late today, began to work, and then changed locations for the next 30 minutes. This transition to student life again is proving to be more difficult than imagined, but I welcome the challenge. Deadlines! Yikes! Finally, I gave up and went out for a walk after chatting with Bertie for a couple of minutes (He came out to get the garden ready for winter, yes, it's only early September). I needed to buy groceries, find a reasonably priced printer, and maybe a couple of basic t-shirts. I found a tiny mall with a Penneys. Now, everyone here keeps telling me how great and cheap Penneys is for clothing, but while it's inexpensive, I didn't see too many fantastic deals. To set a visual, think Goody's before it closed down. racks of clothing put on haphazardly, stacks of once folded shirts just lying in heaps on the shelves. I couldn't handle it, so I left. All the printers I found were ridiculously priced, and the grocery store just wasn't conducive to bargain shopping. So I left the mall and went to Dunnes, the giant store just a 5 minute walk from my house. I didn't find any shirts (apparently the 5 pack white Hanes t-shirt doesn't exist here), but I did get my groceries. I met a lady in the condiment aisle as I was picking out salt. The containers weren't single person sized, so it took me awhile. Then I hear a voice saying, "I've found that one raised my blood pressure, but this one didn't at all. Of course it's more dear, so if you don't have blood pressure problems you could save with the other one."

From there started the awkward conversation between me and the Irish. I guess they don't realize I'm American until I speak, and I'm not sure they understand me half the time. But she was really sweet. So I bought the massive salt container that's sure to raise my blood pressure because it was a good .75 cents/euros cheaper. I'll probably never finish the whole thing. Then I haggled for a printer, a PRINTER. I could use the university services and pay for my copies, but the amount of printing I'm going to have to do just doesn't seem feasible to print out while I sit in a chair at the student library. I carried my new printer and my bag of groceries home, slightly dejected and focused on the new muscles I'm using. Then I compared prices at Wal-Mart and Target. They weren't any better. In fact, I did the best I could and came out fairly well. So with the help of plain potato chips and Coca Cola, I perked up considerably.

So, after meeting Noel and his mother and aunt (in my zebra pj pants, OH YEAH!), and cuddling in the giant armchair under a blanket and scaring both Collum and Kasha (who said I looked like a small kid, curled up like that), I'm writing this post to you from my cosy little room in Tirellan Heights. I know the posts aren't nearly as exciting as expected , but I promise there will be adventures if you're patient enough.

I'm SO excited! I'm so...so... scaaared.

That's right, I feel a little like Jessie Spano minus the caffeine pill addiction. Today was our first department meeting and while going through the class offerings, I was so excited I could hardly keep still. Adrian Frazier is the Director of the program, and for those of you from JMU, he reminds me a bit of Roger Hall. They both have this sort of assured arrogance about them, but you can't help but like them, because the arrogance I speak of is dodgy and flits in and out of view.

There are very few of us. Three Americans, one Albanian, and the rest are Irish (I think, I didn't get to speak to everyone today). We met two of the professors outside of Adrian. The first was Eva Bourke, who runs the Poetry workshop. She's very soft spoken and seems to live in a different atmosphere. I think I'm going to really enjoy her. Today she said, "We have to be careful with one another in a poetry course" and it really struck me and I thought it was quite nice and so true. We have an assignment this weekend to write down things that strike us, snippets and whatnot.

We also met Mike McCormack, who teaches the Fiction workshop. He might be a bit more direct in advising, but how do I know at this early stage? He gave us assignments as well, 200 words each on our favorite album, movie and book. We also have a reading assignment of two novels. Conveniently, this is how I've made a new friend and classmate. Anna from Baltimore went with me to discover Galway's bookshops, so we each bought one novel, will read it, then switch with the other. On top of all these things, we must submit an autobiography of ourselves as writers, a total of 600 words. So guess how I'll be spending my Saturday? I must confess, I'm really looking forward to it. I might even cook (gasp!) of course, that means I'll have to buy something other than pasta...

After school, the meet and greet and finding pretty much all the bookshops in the city, Anna and I met up with my new international friends and walked down to Galway Bay. It's a fishing village and very picturesque at points, where others are... not so much. You have the multi-colored buildings lining the street and the sometimes more colorful boats bobbing around in the docks, and then you see a sign about some sort of contamination on the north side of the green. So we stay on the south side and walk down to a small beach full of shells and shards of glass bottles. Two boys were putting up a tent in this unlikely place, a man was drinking from an unidentified bottle while slumped up against a wall and there was a girl in a bikini sunbathing. She even went in the water! Now, as I type this, I'm sure you're all thinking, holy crap, it's so cold over there! My friends, I got sunburned, in IRELAND, today. It's been sunny the whole time I've been over here. I'm assured that it will rain tomorrow though. We'll see.

This evening, we went out to the pubs. Or pub, rather. We got invited to one place that was doing an 80's night by some very eager Irish boys. We declined and went to another with live traditional music. It was dark, full of old men and fantastic. After a pint, we headed home and passed by a Papa John's that sold hamburgers, yes, hamburgers. There must be some mistake. I will investigate this further through my travels. But, as I'm safe and sound now and it's very late, I believe I'll start a reading assignment and go to bed.

Are you American? Oh good, I can't understand the Irish.

I feel as though there is too much to report back home about! So I began to write, then I took a nap, and erased everything once I woke up. I guess the best thing to do is to begin at home, my new one for the moment.

I took the bus from Shannon to Galway and slept a bit of the way. However, I did see some of the cutest little towns along the way, including rock walls. Literal rock walls, GIANT rocks, no mortar or anything. Lots of horses, sheep and cattle and Johnny Walsh's bar.

Bertie picked me up in Galway and drove me to the house on the other side of town. Galway isn't really a large city, though I haven't explored it thoroughly yet. Anyhow, there was a bit of traffic and so I got a lesson in reading license plates. the first two numbers are the year the car was made, then the city where it's registered is listed, then i think just random numbers, I can't remember. So mine would be 03 NT DMDQN17, but not personalized, haha. It's been fun guessing the towns that I'm not familiar with (G for Galway, D for Dublin, C for Cork, the smaller cities have the first and last letter). I know that sounds really nerdy to include on a blog, but I think it's fun, so there.

The house is really the equivalent of a townhouse. And smaller as to be expected. My room is the tiniest of all of them. Possibly the size of the bathroom. It fits my twin bed, a set of 3 drawers and a small wardrobe. I have a chair in the corner, but use it as my desk for now. A lap desk would be ideal, haha. But seeing as how my things don't really fill the room up, it's just the right size. There is a garden out back with a picnic table, a defunct basketball hoop, a weird clothesline thing, and two propane tanks. Plus one large pink hydrangea and other assorted plants. Bertie explained "I put the things in and these are the ones that lived."

I will have three roommates, two boys and one girl, but the boys haven't arrived yet. They must be brothers, and they're from Derry. The girl, Kasha, is from Poland but has been in Ireland for 5 years and spent some time in Wisconsin (?!) before that. She sounds Irish, but doesn't talk as fast. I like her and think we'll get along really well. She works at a clothing shop in town, Monsoon. Apparently Monsoon is very popular in England and VERY expensive, so I don't think I'll be sporting their designs anytime soon! Kasha dates Collum, Bertie's nephew. Collum's in a band and really nice as well. Also, we have an electric shower. It's awesome. You push a button and the water comes on, push it off, and it goes off, very neat! There's also a National School in our neighborhood, literally four houses down. I met a little girl this morning who thought I was a new teacher. The schools here are very small and look more like houses than schools.

Today was MY first day of school, sort of. International Student Orientation. For those of you in Blacksburg and/or Houston, guess what? The first person to introduce himself was ITALIAN. However, I didn't meet just Italians. So far I've met Anya and Rebecca from Germany, Carlene from Holland, 2 Italian girls (I forget their names already, yikes!), Fergal from Cork, 3 girls from Buffalo and Matt from St. Marys, PA. Matt will apparently be singing "Like A Virgin" at karoake night tonight. I may or may not attend. It's a 30 minute walk in the dark both ways.

And that brings me to the walking. If I'm not in better shape by even Christmas, I'm useless. It's not a bad walk, but there is a bit of a hill involved and let's face it. When do I walk anywhere for that long, twice a day? So, Mom and Summer J. Brown, be proud.

So that was today. We had a man speak about the library today that sounded exactly like Professor Snape. I feel a bit like an undergrad again with all the stuff that I could become involved in. I know I won't be able to do a giant amount, that's reserved for writing, but I definitely want to volunteer somewhere, and take some Irish classes if I can. For now, I'm going to cook up a bit of dinner and prepare for my department meeting tomorrow. I'm really excited about this! Wish me luck!