Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip

Note to self: When traveling somewhere you've never been before, get a map. Also, bring along a snack, just in case. Popcorn doesn't count. When a relative stranger offers to buy a drink, accept gracefully and order food. Never ever accept a second offer of drink before eating food, and especially don't get on a boat afterwards thinking an apple counts as food. It doesn't.

The people on Inis Oirr (Inisheer) are really nice. The island is so small that everyone knows you're not a native but they wave to you anyway (or in the case of one of the men I passed on tractors, shakes his head as he passes you the second time). I woke up early on my Friday off (I love how this works out) and walked into town. As soon as I see the bus to the ferry, rain starts to pour. I mean, this was violent. I duck under an arch and think to myself, "Why didn't I buy an umbrella yesterday and bring my scarf today? I'm going to be miserable." I headed towards the ticket office anyway when the rain let up and got my boarding passes and then waited in line. It rained off and on during the bus ride. Outside it was freezing, I literally shivered as I boarded the ferry. A slightly wild looking man asked if I had a waterproof jacket and looked at me doubtfully. This couldn't be good. Nonetheless, I found a seat and settled in. I like boats and I like water. I don't like being cold, but it wasn't as if we were going to get splashed, we had windows protecting us. And so we started off. The ferry wasn't very crowded. This ferry went to Inis Oirr (the smallest of the islands) and Inis Meain (Inishmaan), the most deserted. Another ferry took those who were going to Inishmor, the largest and most tourist frequented, and I'm sure it was crowded. In fact, I think pretty much the entire bus went to that ferry except for me.

If anyone gets motion sickness, you would have thrown up on the boat ride over. The end of September isn't exactly tourist season because the weather starts to turn towards the winter. The wind is strong and the rains frequent. I felt like I was on one of those carnival rides that swings you up and down and on and on. It was rather fun. After awhile though, it felt like I was being rocked, so I just laid my head on my knees and napped a bit. I woke up to see an old man sitting next to me. He grabbed my arm and asked, "Do you know where you're going?". I said no, I figured I'd just roam around, the island wasn't that large. So he proceeded to tell me where everything was on the island in his curious accent (It sounded more scottish than irish). Then says "So now you know" and walked off. Then the boat landed and I found myself on the island with almost 5 hours to kill.

The first thing I did was buy an apple, a juicebox, a mini bag of popcorn (seriously, if you don't like plain popcorn and cheese and onion chips, you're so screwed), and a bottle of water. Then I set off against the wind, uphill towards a castle I'd seen. I never got there. The entire island is covered in stone fences and the roads are like mazes. After a brief, light shower, the sun came out and the day turned gorgeous. There was a rainbow and then, sunshine. The wind was ridiculous, but what can you expect when you're on an island that you can walk completely around in 3 hours. I don't know where I went, but as I tried to get to the castle, I found myself on the other side of the island. I ran into a girl walking her dogs (a giant black dog and a yippy jack russell looking character) and that was it, for at least an hour or more. I saw a lighthouse and found myself talking to cows and watching the waves beat up against the shoreline. Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it. On my way back to the other side of the island, I met a man I'd seen on the ferry coming out of a house. Turns out, his Granna lives there and he was incredibly friendly. He told me to go to the other end of the island (long ways) to see the shipwreck that's in the opening credits of Father Ted. Also, the church next to Granna's house is apparently used in the t.v. series as well. Who knew? So off I went again, I found the ship wreck and also the graveyard (the scottish guy told me about this) with the sunken church in the center. This sounds creepy, but it was my favorite part. I walked down into the Church and sat on part of the stone wall and just, rested, for awhile.

On my way back down the hill, I ran into two people I'd seen on the ferry. Turns out, they were from Boston and heading to the pub. I figured I'd join them since the pub most likely served food and I was getting pretty hungry. Except, I didn't get any food. Instead, my new friend Chris bought everyone a drink. Then, Chris, Holly and I met Margaret. An island local. She bought us another round. There was much talk about the Irish language and Irish music and Christy Moore performing in Killarney in April (apparently, I'm going to this). Then I had to leave to catch the boat, so off I went, happy to have made new friends.

The old scottish man hugged me when I got back on the boat. I ate an apple before boarding and hoped it would soak up the beer. This didn't happen. Still, I sat on the top of the ferry all the way to Inis Meain enjoying the salt, the sun and wind. The second part of the journey was longer and I found myself wishing I had a loaf of bread or something as I nestled down in my seat below. I fell asleep and woke up to find that the mainland was freezing and I still felt a little boat sick. The bus ride back was mainly quiet and I decided I'd splurge on a cab to get home, especially since I'd spent 3 euro the entire day, a journey day no less! I met a pleasant lady from Vancouver on the bus and we talked about islands for the rest of the trip. When we were leaving, a french guy woke up from his nap and asked if I knew where we were. "Is this the end?", he asked.

I walked up the row of cabs until a found one with an older man as a driver. Without thinking, I said "Would you like to take me home?" to which he laughed and said "If only this were 40 years ago!" My cab driver was a former fisherman and he told me that winter is indeed on its way quickly. He knows these things. He's studied the weather for years. He also knew a shortcut home, cutting an 8 to 10 euro trip down to 6. SIX! He asked about Virginia and West Virginia and I told him the 460 East joke. That got a chuckle. All in all, I'd say my day trip was a success. I drowned my stuffy nose in pizza and curled up in my blankets and fell asleep. I woke up today thinking there was a kitten in our house and ended up cleaning my room and sending in Monday's assignments for class. I also bought some vitamins (well vitamin c and zinc) tablets. I'd say today was a success too. Now I'm off to clean the kitchen. I hope.

"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!