This last week and a half has reminded me why I am not a history or politics major. I've had two math assignments to do for the last two weeks, and have started working on one of my politics assignments at the same time. I can sit and scratch out math problems, and not easy ones if I may pat myself on the back, for two or three hours at a time. I even get some of em right. But writing a 2000 word research paper is pretty painful. I'll tolerate it for an hour at the very most, with maybe 200 words put on a page at a time, before I wind up wiki-ing or youtubing something. Next thing I know, an hour and a half is shot. It would almost certainly not get done if I had waited much longer to start it.
I went to a session at the John Hewitt on Saturday. The session corner was already full by the time I got there though, so I didn't get to play. But all the musicians I had met earlier remembered me, and even my name. They're a good bunch and they keep inviting me back. Instead, I visited with an older Brit who had grown up in Belfast. He was a uillean piper but was just listening that night. He had left Belfast in 1983, in the middle of the Troubles. His perspective was a valuable one because he could remember how Northern Ireland had been at its worst, and the changes for the better were perhaps more apparent to him after living elsewhere. I was glad to have met him when he told me "25 years ago, Belfast wasn't exactly a tourist city, with everyone being checked for bombs. To see anyone willing to live here or even be here is a breath of fresh air."
It is absolutely freezing here. Yesterday was wickedly cold, with sleet coming from a cloudless sky. Today was very miserable, with a constant cold drizzle and snow in the hills. I've experienced humid heat but not humid cold. It's not even below freezing yet, but that moist cold cuts deep.
I haven't done any traveling since my trip to Dublin. This has been good for my "studying," but not good for my boredom. I have a list of places to see before I go, and many of the weekends are filling up. I may just wander off and jump on a bus some afternoon.
For those of you who don't already know, I will be coming home in December. I made a huge mistake with my visa, and despite the great relations between the US and Britain, both countries love their red tape, meaning I cannot fix the problem from here. However, I refuse to write off the entire trip as a failure because of the mistake. Eight months would have been great, but three months works too. I've been living in a city that many people wouldn't even consider visiting because they expect to be shot or hit with a grenade. I am making the very most of my time here but I also enjoy saying "Fine UK, if you don't want me, I'll adventure elsewhere."
10/19/08
Dublin
I am getting into more and more of a groove here as the weeks fly by. I pretty well have my classes and all that goes with them figured out, and I have a fairly clear idea of what's going to happen throughout the rest of the semester. The big challenges will be actually sitting down to do the work, having my weekend adventures, and finding the right balance between the two.
My latest weekend adventure was a trip to Dublin. It was my first trip out of Northern Ireland. Like many other cities, it is growing, and I counted at least 18 cranes against the skyline on my way in. I met up with three other friends who had left that morning for a meeting. Once we had gotten together at the hotel and figured out a plan, we went back to the city center for Friday night revelry. We went to the Temple Bar area, which is a narrow, cobblestone street that is closed off to traffic and filled with restaurants and of course, countless bars. We searched for the actual Temple Bar and spent a good part of the evening there. The girls I was with aren't Guinness fans, but I took my first opportunity to try real Dublin Guinness, and it was everything I ever hoped for. I did buy one of the girls her first Guinness ever though, and she may be slowly converting. The Temple Bar is a big place with a wide range of clientele, and we were surprised when the first person we ran into was a friend from Jordanstown. The place was not lacking in characters.
After completely blowing by our plan of getting up at 8 to start touring, we were on our way back to the city center at 11:30. We joined a hop-on, hop-off tour that makes a big loop of Dublin City. We went by Trinity College, O'Connell Street with its monuments and spire, St. Stephen's Green, Christ Church Cathedral, St. Patrick's Cathedral, the Parliament Building, the last remnant of the city's wall, Kilmainham Gaol, an asylum, the Old Jameson whiskey distillery, and Phoenix Park.
St. Stephen's Green is a park in the city center area that was funded largely by the Guinness family. Christ Church and St. Patrick's are enormous and almost within shouting distance of each other. Both had huge flying buttresses, but I couldn't get any good pictures of either church. The center of medieval Dublin was circled by a wall that was roughly ten feet tall. The more elite lived within the walls, and the less better off lived outside them, in what was called "The Liberties." Kilmainham Gaol was once a prison and is strangely one of the most heavily visited places in Dublin. The asylum was funded completely by Jonathan Swift, the author of Gulliver's Travels. Swift had no children because he believed he was insane. He donated his entire estate to the construction of a place where the "insane could scream in peace." Phoenix park is a 1,750 acre park in the nothern part of the city. Many monuments are within the park, along with the US ambassador's residence and the Irish president's residence. An area within the park now used for playing rugby, football, cricket, and gaelic footfall is called "The Fifteen Acres" because it was once the place where gentlemen would duel for their honor. The Papal Cross is also within the park. 1.25 million people gathered around it to hear Pope John Paul II say mass.
We hopped-off the bus to see Nassua Street, Grafton Street, and the Guinness Storehouse. Nassua Street was a typical touristy street in Dublin, but a tweed shop caught my eye and I couldn't help but look inside. Grafton Street was recommended by one of my flatmates and was a walking mall from Trinity College to the gate of St. Stephen's Green. It had all kinds of shops and was bustling. A classical string quartet, two old guys playing chess, clowns, guitar players, and a very entertaining (borderline creepy) puppeteer were all along the street and were worth the walk themselves.
In the Guinness Storehouse, enthusiasts take a self-guided tour through a building that once held the fermenting vessels for Guinness Stout. The ingredients of stout, the steps taken in its production, the many facets of Guinness's history, and a tasting room are all along the tour. The tour takes the visitor up seven stories and at the top, the Gravity Bar is where very probably the best Guinness of their life is waiting for the visitor. The bar is circular with wide windows, and a fantastic view of all of Dublin is to be had.
My latest weekend adventure was a trip to Dublin. It was my first trip out of Northern Ireland. Like many other cities, it is growing, and I counted at least 18 cranes against the skyline on my way in. I met up with three other friends who had left that morning for a meeting. Once we had gotten together at the hotel and figured out a plan, we went back to the city center for Friday night revelry. We went to the Temple Bar area, which is a narrow, cobblestone street that is closed off to traffic and filled with restaurants and of course, countless bars. We searched for the actual Temple Bar and spent a good part of the evening there. The girls I was with aren't Guinness fans, but I took my first opportunity to try real Dublin Guinness, and it was everything I ever hoped for. I did buy one of the girls her first Guinness ever though, and she may be slowly converting. The Temple Bar is a big place with a wide range of clientele, and we were surprised when the first person we ran into was a friend from Jordanstown. The place was not lacking in characters.
After completely blowing by our plan of getting up at 8 to start touring, we were on our way back to the city center at 11:30. We joined a hop-on, hop-off tour that makes a big loop of Dublin City. We went by Trinity College, O'Connell Street with its monuments and spire, St. Stephen's Green, Christ Church Cathedral, St. Patrick's Cathedral, the Parliament Building, the last remnant of the city's wall, Kilmainham Gaol, an asylum, the Old Jameson whiskey distillery, and Phoenix Park.
St. Stephen's Green is a park in the city center area that was funded largely by the Guinness family. Christ Church and St. Patrick's are enormous and almost within shouting distance of each other. Both had huge flying buttresses, but I couldn't get any good pictures of either church. The center of medieval Dublin was circled by a wall that was roughly ten feet tall. The more elite lived within the walls, and the less better off lived outside them, in what was called "The Liberties." Kilmainham Gaol was once a prison and is strangely one of the most heavily visited places in Dublin. The asylum was funded completely by Jonathan Swift, the author of Gulliver's Travels. Swift had no children because he believed he was insane. He donated his entire estate to the construction of a place where the "insane could scream in peace." Phoenix park is a 1,750 acre park in the nothern part of the city. Many monuments are within the park, along with the US ambassador's residence and the Irish president's residence. An area within the park now used for playing rugby, football, cricket, and gaelic footfall is called "The Fifteen Acres" because it was once the place where gentlemen would duel for their honor. The Papal Cross is also within the park. 1.25 million people gathered around it to hear Pope John Paul II say mass.
We hopped-off the bus to see Nassua Street, Grafton Street, and the Guinness Storehouse. Nassua Street was a typical touristy street in Dublin, but a tweed shop caught my eye and I couldn't help but look inside. Grafton Street was recommended by one of my flatmates and was a walking mall from Trinity College to the gate of St. Stephen's Green. It had all kinds of shops and was bustling. A classical string quartet, two old guys playing chess, clowns, guitar players, and a very entertaining (borderline creepy) puppeteer were all along the street and were worth the walk themselves.
In the Guinness Storehouse, enthusiasts take a self-guided tour through a building that once held the fermenting vessels for Guinness Stout. The ingredients of stout, the steps taken in its production, the many facets of Guinness's history, and a tasting room are all along the tour. The tour takes the visitor up seven stories and at the top, the Gravity Bar is where very probably the best Guinness of their life is waiting for the visitor. The bar is circular with wide windows, and a fantastic view of all of Dublin is to be had.
10/16/08
Culture Shock, So Far
Before I came to Ireland, I had the preconceived notion that all Irish accents were the same. This is untrue. I have begun to hear slight distinctions in the regional accents.
Southern and northern accents are about as different as southern and northern accents in the States. The best single example that comes to mind is the word 'through.' In the south, it sounds like 'true,' while in most of the north it sounds similar to 'three.' The Irish in the south are so devoted to the 't' sound of words with 'th' that 'loathed' is pronounced 'loaded.' Few words sound the same in both accents, but the tagalong phrases are the dead giveaways. Irish from the Republic rarely say 'mate' like Northern Irish but add 'so it is/was' to the ends of most everything.
My flatmate Paul is from Ballymena, and I can understand him roughly 60% of the time. Ballymena is only 45 minutes or an hour from Belfast, but people from the Belfast area are fairly easy to understand. Paul admits to getting lost in the Belfast accent. Another flatmate, David, from Offaly in the south, has trouble getting the gist of what Paul says sometimes. Each area has their particular lilt.
Another notion I had before I came here was that the older Irish would tend to avoid foreigners while the young would be more open and curious. This has proven to be nearly backwards. In general, the Irish tend to stick to themselves, but the older Irish have been more willing to engage this young, dumb American. I do my best disprove the American stereotype of being fat, lazy, and ignorant, and they are almost unfailingly willing to listen and give a friendly response. The elections almost always come up. The younger Irish have been friendly once approached, but in many cases my hand was the first to be offered. For those of you who know me well, you'd understand that this is a challenge.
The novelty of the international crowd has been gone for some time now. The idea of sitting in a kitchen filled mostly with strangers who hardly speak English and listening to electronic club music isn't terribly appealing. Watching the different nationalities over the course of the last month and a half has been a learning experience though. Each country sticks together, Americans included. However, when asked why I chose Ireland, I usually say "music, culture," etc. I asked an Italian the same question, and without hesitation he responded "to learn English." From the attitudes of the internationals, I have gathered that for the most part, the Americans are the only group willing to disperse into the culture and really learn about Ireland. It baffles me why someone would move all the way to Ireland and not want to interact with the Irish enough to learn anything more than English. Of course, they're probably just as confused by my fiddling and appreciation for old timers in tweed.
I've been spending quite a bit of time with my neighbor David. He isn't around on the weekends, but during the week we usually eat together at least once a day and sometimes three times a day. We both feel the boredom of student housing, and visit over tea on many an evening. He comes from a farming background also, so we've compared and contrasted Irish and American "cattle farming" a good deal, among other topics. There are many differences between agriculture in County Offaly and Montana, but many of the values translate. If I come back with any accent at all, it'll be be a southern accent and it'll be entirely David's fault.
Southern and northern accents are about as different as southern and northern accents in the States. The best single example that comes to mind is the word 'through.' In the south, it sounds like 'true,' while in most of the north it sounds similar to 'three.' The Irish in the south are so devoted to the 't' sound of words with 'th' that 'loathed' is pronounced 'loaded.' Few words sound the same in both accents, but the tagalong phrases are the dead giveaways. Irish from the Republic rarely say 'mate' like Northern Irish but add 'so it is/was' to the ends of most everything.
My flatmate Paul is from Ballymena, and I can understand him roughly 60% of the time. Ballymena is only 45 minutes or an hour from Belfast, but people from the Belfast area are fairly easy to understand. Paul admits to getting lost in the Belfast accent. Another flatmate, David, from Offaly in the south, has trouble getting the gist of what Paul says sometimes. Each area has their particular lilt.
Another notion I had before I came here was that the older Irish would tend to avoid foreigners while the young would be more open and curious. This has proven to be nearly backwards. In general, the Irish tend to stick to themselves, but the older Irish have been more willing to engage this young, dumb American. I do my best disprove the American stereotype of being fat, lazy, and ignorant, and they are almost unfailingly willing to listen and give a friendly response. The elections almost always come up. The younger Irish have been friendly once approached, but in many cases my hand was the first to be offered. For those of you who know me well, you'd understand that this is a challenge.
The novelty of the international crowd has been gone for some time now. The idea of sitting in a kitchen filled mostly with strangers who hardly speak English and listening to electronic club music isn't terribly appealing. Watching the different nationalities over the course of the last month and a half has been a learning experience though. Each country sticks together, Americans included. However, when asked why I chose Ireland, I usually say "music, culture," etc. I asked an Italian the same question, and without hesitation he responded "to learn English." From the attitudes of the internationals, I have gathered that for the most part, the Americans are the only group willing to disperse into the culture and really learn about Ireland. It baffles me why someone would move all the way to Ireland and not want to interact with the Irish enough to learn anything more than English. Of course, they're probably just as confused by my fiddling and appreciation for old timers in tweed.
I've been spending quite a bit of time with my neighbor David. He isn't around on the weekends, but during the week we usually eat together at least once a day and sometimes three times a day. We both feel the boredom of student housing, and visit over tea on many an evening. He comes from a farming background also, so we've compared and contrasted Irish and American "cattle farming" a good deal, among other topics. There are many differences between agriculture in County Offaly and Montana, but many of the values translate. If I come back with any accent at all, it'll be be a southern accent and it'll be entirely David's fault.
10/12/08
First Sessions
I made my first attempt at playing in the pubs this weekend. I went into Belfast Friday night planning on going to a few pubs just to listen to music and have a drink. Christina Lind and I met another friend of ours by the City Hall and went to Kelly's Cellars. I've been there a couple times and like it because it actually feels like a cellar. We had planned on meeting someone at Madden's later on, so we made our way there. Madden's is rather dark inside but has a warm, cozy feeling to it. A bagpiper and a mandola player were starting to play when we got there. Both were great and I visited with them for some time.
"Where's your fiddle?"
--Hazlett, a Belfast Mandola player
"In Newtownabbey"
--Me
"Nah mate, you never come to Belfast without a weapon."
--Hazlett
An American fiddler showed up, along with an American banjo player. I thanked them for the music and got up to go back to my table but they put the fiddle in my hands. I played a song that I knew for them, and they joined in. I didn't know any of their tunes but sat for one more with them.
The fiddler from Madden's told me about a session on Saturday evenings at the John Hewitt. The session was well underway when I got there at 7. A left-handed fiddle, a bohdran, a mandolin, a banjo, an accordian, and five flutes surrounded two tables in the front corner of the place. This corner was elevated above the rest of the pub and had just enough room for everyone. I liked the feeling of the musicians being apart from the rest of the public. All of the gentleman were older locals that knew each other well, but were very welcoming to a young American with questionable musical talent. I was bought two pints besides the one I had gotten myself. I had a faint memory of one of the tunes they played, but not enough to play it well. I didn't get much playing in to speak of because of my slow ear-to-brain-to-finger reactions, but did start to get the flavor of real Irish music. I will return the this session.
Zach Silverman and Brad Robinson met me at the John Hewitt, and after a stop at the American Embassy (McDonald's) we made our way to The Hercules. The Herc has music on its second floor, which feels like a cave because of its lack of windows. This was a large session, and I cannot recall how many people or instruments were there. I heard from others at the session that one fiddler and one flute player were notable and well known in session circles. The musicians there were also quite friendly but the atmosphere was a little more intense. There were more than enough instruments there to get lost in all the racket. It will take several sessions to really get into the swing of the music and learn to pick out the tunes and play them. It's a lesson I should have learned years ago, but here I am. I will make the most of the time and opportunity and immerse myself in some of the the finest music there is.
"Where's your fiddle?"
--Hazlett, a Belfast Mandola player
"In Newtownabbey"
--Me
"Nah mate, you never come to Belfast without a weapon."
--Hazlett
An American fiddler showed up, along with an American banjo player. I thanked them for the music and got up to go back to my table but they put the fiddle in my hands. I played a song that I knew for them, and they joined in. I didn't know any of their tunes but sat for one more with them.
The fiddler from Madden's told me about a session on Saturday evenings at the John Hewitt. The session was well underway when I got there at 7. A left-handed fiddle, a bohdran, a mandolin, a banjo, an accordian, and five flutes surrounded two tables in the front corner of the place. This corner was elevated above the rest of the pub and had just enough room for everyone. I liked the feeling of the musicians being apart from the rest of the public. All of the gentleman were older locals that knew each other well, but were very welcoming to a young American with questionable musical talent. I was bought two pints besides the one I had gotten myself. I had a faint memory of one of the tunes they played, but not enough to play it well. I didn't get much playing in to speak of because of my slow ear-to-brain-to-finger reactions, but did start to get the flavor of real Irish music. I will return the this session.
Zach Silverman and Brad Robinson met me at the John Hewitt, and after a stop at the American Embassy (McDonald's) we made our way to The Hercules. The Herc has music on its second floor, which feels like a cave because of its lack of windows. This was a large session, and I cannot recall how many people or instruments were there. I heard from others at the session that one fiddler and one flute player were notable and well known in session circles. The musicians there were also quite friendly but the atmosphere was a little more intense. There were more than enough instruments there to get lost in all the racket. It will take several sessions to really get into the swing of the music and learn to pick out the tunes and play them. It's a lesson I should have learned years ago, but here I am. I will make the most of the time and opportunity and immerse myself in some of the the finest music there is.
10/7/08
Ramblings
First off, I have badly neglected to plug my picture site. Go to natecoxmt.shutterfly.com to see pictures of my trip. I thought about switching my blog to that site as well, but decided not to. I will continue my written updates here.
Also, I love hearing from any and all of you who might be reading my blogs, so please leave comments.
I find it hard to believe that I left Montana four weeks ago today. It really does not feel like I've been gone for that long. On the other hand, I have covered some serious ground, both between here and home and within Northern Ireland. I've worn out a pair of shoes that were barely broken in when I left.
I am losing my taste for rain. At home, it is an occasional, almost rare, event that is welcomed and usually enjoyed. Here, it is a very regular, almost constant part of life. Last summer, I was driven to near madness by three weeks of rain, sleet, and snow. It didn't help that I was outside a lot during that time, but I am unsure how I will handle several months of near-constant drizzling. I love sunshine and will love it more when I am out of Ireland. Speaking of which, I am certain I am one of the tannest people on the island.
Before I left, I was constantly told that I would come back a completely changed person. I adamently refused these accusations. As each day passes though, I do see some changes happening. My potato baking skills are getting so good, I'm going to make some of you uncomfortable. They're that good.
Also, there seemed to be a quiet consensus that I would slip a little too easily into the Irish lifestyle and become an alcoholic. While I very much enjoy the ciders, lagers, stouts, and pub atmosphere, odds are slim at best that I will become a full blown drunk because a typical pint unloads me of 2.80 pounds, or about $5.20. And that's cheap for Ireland. I can remember two times when I bought more than one drink in a day, and they were weeks ago.
I went to mass at St. Peter's cathedral on Sunday evening. I had planned on going that morning but got the bus times confused. St. Peter's is about half a mile down Falls Road, which is a sketchy part of Belfast in the daytime, not to mention at night. I had to have a pint beforehand to have enough courage to walk down it by myself. It was a good thing I stopped for the drink where I did though, because I found another church right by my two favorite pubs. Both of the pubs have traditional music sessions. It might sound strange to be in a pub before and/or after going to mass, and this paragraph sort of contradicts the previous one, but when in Rome...
Also, I love hearing from any and all of you who might be reading my blogs, so please leave comments.
I find it hard to believe that I left Montana four weeks ago today. It really does not feel like I've been gone for that long. On the other hand, I have covered some serious ground, both between here and home and within Northern Ireland. I've worn out a pair of shoes that were barely broken in when I left.
I am losing my taste for rain. At home, it is an occasional, almost rare, event that is welcomed and usually enjoyed. Here, it is a very regular, almost constant part of life. Last summer, I was driven to near madness by three weeks of rain, sleet, and snow. It didn't help that I was outside a lot during that time, but I am unsure how I will handle several months of near-constant drizzling. I love sunshine and will love it more when I am out of Ireland. Speaking of which, I am certain I am one of the tannest people on the island.
Before I left, I was constantly told that I would come back a completely changed person. I adamently refused these accusations. As each day passes though, I do see some changes happening. My potato baking skills are getting so good, I'm going to make some of you uncomfortable. They're that good.
Also, there seemed to be a quiet consensus that I would slip a little too easily into the Irish lifestyle and become an alcoholic. While I very much enjoy the ciders, lagers, stouts, and pub atmosphere, odds are slim at best that I will become a full blown drunk because a typical pint unloads me of 2.80 pounds, or about $5.20. And that's cheap for Ireland. I can remember two times when I bought more than one drink in a day, and they were weeks ago.
I went to mass at St. Peter's cathedral on Sunday evening. I had planned on going that morning but got the bus times confused. St. Peter's is about half a mile down Falls Road, which is a sketchy part of Belfast in the daytime, not to mention at night. I had to have a pint beforehand to have enough courage to walk down it by myself. It was a good thing I stopped for the drink where I did though, because I found another church right by my two favorite pubs. Both of the pubs have traditional music sessions. It might sound strange to be in a pub before and/or after going to mass, and this paragraph sort of contradicts the previous one, but when in Rome...
10/5/08
Week Three
This week started pretty slow, but flew by later on as I got busier. I only have one class on Mondays and Wednesdays with no class on Tuesdays, so the early part of the week is pretty open. I did make an admireable attempt to do reading for classes though, including a respectable stay in the library. It's a little hard to get back into the swing of studying after a five month break.
I went to the iCafe dinner for the third week in a row on Wednesday and have decided to make a habit of it. The food is great as is the crowd. Not as many internationals are going anymore, but there are always quite a few Irish. A guitar appeared last week, and my fiddle may be making an appearance.
Speaking of which, I finally discovered where the traditional music sessions are in Belfast. A handful of pubs have them, some of them six nights a week. Open sessions don't start until later in the evening though, and this makes it difficult to play for very long without having to catch an expensive cab. I am determined to play though and will find my way around this problem somehow. I was in one of the aforementioned pubs last weekend when a small group was playing a guitar, a concertina, and bagpipes, and was reminded of why I wanted to come to Ireland in the first place.
Thursday is my long day, and it started even earlier than expected or wanted because of a fire drill. I was thrilled, to say the least, to be done with two three hour engineering math sessions. There wasn't much time for relaxing though because I played football/soccer with about 21 Irish and two other Americans. I've done a lot of walking since I've been here, easily over 4 or 5 miles on several days. I'm not too sore after these days, besides a little joint pain. I consider myself in pretty good shape after being on the ranch all summer, but that hour of playing made me quite sore. 11 or 12 per side soccer is easier and requires less end-to-end running than 5 aside, so I'm really gonna be hurting if I play again soon. I held my own though, for an American, considering I played for a few years and reffed for four.
The fire drill was interestingly the first time my four flatmates and I had all been together at once. The fifth guy introduced himself when I ran into him in the kitchen on Monday or Tuesday. Sightings are still infrequent. I've had several chances to get to know the others however. I visited with Andrew and David for two hours one day, mostly about politics and sports, and another three hours with David later on. I eat meals with David almost regularly. Paul is a little harder to catch, but he did play football/soccer on Thursday.
Thursday night also held one of the most ridiculous experiences of the trip so far. A few Americans were visiting from London, and this was more than a good excuse for a party as far as the internationals were concerned. Though it started off slow, there were eventually either 38 or 40 people in a 12 by 18 kitchen. Yes, I counted. What amazes me is that it's completely within bounds. Doing anything anywhere near like that at a dorm at MSU would probably get you evicted. Luckily, it wasn't my kitchen so I could get some sleep.
I had one class on Friday, then went on a grocery trip, this time at the Tesco in Carrickfergus. The train ticket was well worth not having to walk 3 miles one way.
On Saturday morning, four Americans, a Turkish girl, and I rode the train to the city of Derry in County Londonderry. It was very rainy, but we walked the walls around the center of the city, which are about 400 years old. Within the walls is Protestant and outside the walls the city is Catholic. Churches and cathedrals are visible from just about anywhere on the walls. We went into St. Columb's cathedral and St. Eugene's cathedral. Fighting the rain and 10 year olds with bottlerockets, we walked around part of the city outside of the walls. Murals from the Troubles are on many of the buildings. One of the Americans summed up the experience by guessing that more had happened in the city than we could ever imagine. I realized I get that feeling most anywhere I go in Ireland.
I went to the iCafe dinner for the third week in a row on Wednesday and have decided to make a habit of it. The food is great as is the crowd. Not as many internationals are going anymore, but there are always quite a few Irish. A guitar appeared last week, and my fiddle may be making an appearance.
Speaking of which, I finally discovered where the traditional music sessions are in Belfast. A handful of pubs have them, some of them six nights a week. Open sessions don't start until later in the evening though, and this makes it difficult to play for very long without having to catch an expensive cab. I am determined to play though and will find my way around this problem somehow. I was in one of the aforementioned pubs last weekend when a small group was playing a guitar, a concertina, and bagpipes, and was reminded of why I wanted to come to Ireland in the first place.
Thursday is my long day, and it started even earlier than expected or wanted because of a fire drill. I was thrilled, to say the least, to be done with two three hour engineering math sessions. There wasn't much time for relaxing though because I played football/soccer with about 21 Irish and two other Americans. I've done a lot of walking since I've been here, easily over 4 or 5 miles on several days. I'm not too sore after these days, besides a little joint pain. I consider myself in pretty good shape after being on the ranch all summer, but that hour of playing made me quite sore. 11 or 12 per side soccer is easier and requires less end-to-end running than 5 aside, so I'm really gonna be hurting if I play again soon. I held my own though, for an American, considering I played for a few years and reffed for four.
The fire drill was interestingly the first time my four flatmates and I had all been together at once. The fifth guy introduced himself when I ran into him in the kitchen on Monday or Tuesday. Sightings are still infrequent. I've had several chances to get to know the others however. I visited with Andrew and David for two hours one day, mostly about politics and sports, and another three hours with David later on. I eat meals with David almost regularly. Paul is a little harder to catch, but he did play football/soccer on Thursday.
Thursday night also held one of the most ridiculous experiences of the trip so far. A few Americans were visiting from London, and this was more than a good excuse for a party as far as the internationals were concerned. Though it started off slow, there were eventually either 38 or 40 people in a 12 by 18 kitchen. Yes, I counted. What amazes me is that it's completely within bounds. Doing anything anywhere near like that at a dorm at MSU would probably get you evicted. Luckily, it wasn't my kitchen so I could get some sleep.
I had one class on Friday, then went on a grocery trip, this time at the Tesco in Carrickfergus. The train ticket was well worth not having to walk 3 miles one way.
On Saturday morning, four Americans, a Turkish girl, and I rode the train to the city of Derry in County Londonderry. It was very rainy, but we walked the walls around the center of the city, which are about 400 years old. Within the walls is Protestant and outside the walls the city is Catholic. Churches and cathedrals are visible from just about anywhere on the walls. We went into St. Columb's cathedral and St. Eugene's cathedral. Fighting the rain and 10 year olds with bottlerockets, we walked around part of the city outside of the walls. Murals from the Troubles are on many of the buildings. One of the Americans summed up the experience by guessing that more had happened in the city than we could ever imagine. I realized I get that feeling most anywhere I go in Ireland.
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