When packing for our first trip to Galway, Ireland, I spent 20 minutes staring at my tiny backpack trying to figure out how to pack four days worth of clothes and shoes. I overpacked completely and packed wrong. Now that I am ready to pack to go home, I'm a professional packer. Here's what to do and not do:
1. Try outfits on before. I packed so many different options to go out at night in and when it was time to wear them, I didn't like them. Try on the outfits to make sure they look good and that you will want to wear them. You don't need to bring everything!
2. Use all the compartments. Backpacks have several compartments that you can jam clothes into so try to maximize space by using them. Ryanair makes you check that your backpack fits their size criteria but if the clothes are making it bulky, then you can squeeze it in.
3. Don't pack more than two pairs of shoes. One pair of boots and one pair of heels is all you really need. Pack outfits that match that pair of heels. You can wear your boots on the plane. If you are staying in a hostel, pack flip flops because you do not want to be barefoot in those showers.
4. Buy travel size containers. This will eliminate space on shampoo and conditioner. You can't bring them on a flight because of liquid size restrictions anyway. They sell them at any department store in Ireland.
5. Pack a small towel. Hostels do not provide towels and they might be disgusting if you do. Bring your own. The towel will not take up that much space. It's a necessity.
6. Re-wear your pants. Pack jeans or leggings that you can re-wear with a different outfit to eliminate space. You only need one pair of pajamas.
7. Check the weather. The countries you may be going to could have completely different weather. I went to Barcelona wearing a winter jacket when it was in the 70s. Make sure you won't be too hot or cold where you're traveling to.
Thursday, 20 December 2012
Ballymaloe Cooking School
Arriving at the Ballymaloe Cooking School for the second time this semester, I was a little nervous. The first time I went there, I was chopping cilantro (called Coriander in Ireland) and I rubbed my eyes. They burned and stung. Tears streamed down my face from the spicy leaf. For a month after, my eyes were always red and I couldn't wear my contact lenses. I had to go to the doctor and get antibiotic eyedrops. Needless to say, I was hesitant to cook here again. Was I going to lose a finger?
We headed into the demonstration where Rachel Allen, a famous cook with her own TV show and author of several cooking books, taught us how to make an Irish Christmas dinner. At the mention of the word "coriander", I flinched. I was staying clear of anything green and spicy. The Christmas dinner included turkey, stuffing, salmon, curry, pickled cucumbers and dessert. We all looked around at each other.
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| Cooking with Father Linnane |
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
30 Random Things I'll Miss About Cork
As I began to pack during our last week, I decided to come up with a list of the little things I will miss most about Cork and my time abroad. The list is not in any order.
- Going out for a pint to listen to live Irish music
- Prank wars with the boys
- Getting a free pint every time it rains with an app on the iPhone
- When everyone gets wifi on their iPhones and stops talking
- Garlic mayo
- Nutrageous and the Nutrageous song
- Hating the An Brog yet still wanting to go there
- Doing nothing on the list of things we need to do before we leave
- Hearing 4's weird whistling and music (Our 4th roommate from El Salvador)
- Thomond bar's cottage pie
- Pregames in the Penthouse
- Trying to perfect the Irish accent and Sarah sounding Indian every time
- Irish cider- Bulmers
- Trying to look Irish by wearing my Aran sweater, claddagh ring and tartan scarf
- Getting called out for being American miles away (even people yelling "You're American!" out of the window of moving cars)
- Hearing Galway Girl live at pubs
- Telling people they sound like leprechauns
- Running through the parking garage to avoid the creepy cats
- L.A. Bagels
- The bar at UCC that we've never been to
- Using Irish phrases (gaf, good craic, what's the story?, that's legend, lads, for **** sake, you're an igit)
- Fat Al's pizza slices and Sarah saying it is the best pizza she's ever had in her life
- The awful wifi in Leeside
- Shouting at Chelsea to ask if she has Internet and playing nose goes to be the one to reset the router
- Making everyone look at the Irish countryside on long Aircoach bus rides
- Being surprised every time it rains and then remembering we're in Ireland
- The Rooftop
- Going "to town" which eventually leads to eating or buying something
- Driving on the wrong side of the road through roundabouts
- Tuesday nights at Rearden's, Thursday nights at The Bailey
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
Language Barriers
My friends and I walk off the metro in Paris, France and look at our phones. We have no idea where to go so we walk over to the map and try to figure out where we are right now. A lady walks up to us and asks, "What are you looking for?"
Chelsea responds, "No thank you!" and turns around. The lady looks puzzled. I wasn't paying attention so I ask the lady again what she said. She repeats the question and I respond in French that we are looking for a friend who is coming to pick us up. I turn to Chelsea and tell her what the lady was actually asking and we all start laughing at how crazy the lady must've thought Chelsea was.
As a French minor, I could handle the language barrier in France. But in Rome, Munich, Barcelona and Copenhagen, it was a struggle. Hand motions, pointing and praying someone around spoke English was all we could do.
At a restaurant in Barcelona, the menus were offered in all different languages but the waiters only spoke Catalon so they did not know what we were ordering even when we pointed. We ended up just pointing to the same spot on the regular menu and hoping it was the same. Catalon is a combination of French and Spanish spoken in Barcelona. A lot of people also speak Spanish so we were able to get by with some minimal words. The extent of Spanish I know is from watching Dora the Explorer when babysitting.
In Rome, I took a cab from my friend's apartment but I didn't know where I was going or if he was taking me the right way. He kept asking me questions in Italian, which I couldn't respond to. I started panicking. The only Italian word I know is "Grazie". I just kept repeating the area that my hotel was in like that was going to change anything. As the cab fare got higher, my blood pressure did too. Eventually, I started noticing things that I had seen before. He dropped me off and I was able to find my way back to the hotel.
In Munich, I accidentally booked a flight home earlier than everyone else (Remember: Bad Luck Abroad Allie). I had to navigate the metro stops alone in Germany at 8 in the morning after Oktoberfest. German words look nothing like how they are pronounced. I was able to manage it and find the correct terminal for my flight. I asked customer service by showing my plane ticket and they pointed me in the right direction.
Although language barriers have existed in almost every country I have visited, it amazes me that communication is still possible. There are many people in each of the foreign countries that speak English but it is impossible to find people in America that are capable of speaking German, French, Catalon or Italian. Through a lot of time, hand gestures and pointing, I have communicated what I wanted or where I needed to go and made it there successfully. I also learned how to navigate the metros and maps in all of these countries. I better be able to figure out New York City when I get home since that has always been a challenge.
Chelsea responds, "No thank you!" and turns around. The lady looks puzzled. I wasn't paying attention so I ask the lady again what she said. She repeats the question and I respond in French that we are looking for a friend who is coming to pick us up. I turn to Chelsea and tell her what the lady was actually asking and we all start laughing at how crazy the lady must've thought Chelsea was.
As a French minor, I could handle the language barrier in France. But in Rome, Munich, Barcelona and Copenhagen, it was a struggle. Hand motions, pointing and praying someone around spoke English was all we could do.
At a restaurant in Barcelona, the menus were offered in all different languages but the waiters only spoke Catalon so they did not know what we were ordering even when we pointed. We ended up just pointing to the same spot on the regular menu and hoping it was the same. Catalon is a combination of French and Spanish spoken in Barcelona. A lot of people also speak Spanish so we were able to get by with some minimal words. The extent of Spanish I know is from watching Dora the Explorer when babysitting.
In Rome, I took a cab from my friend's apartment but I didn't know where I was going or if he was taking me the right way. He kept asking me questions in Italian, which I couldn't respond to. I started panicking. The only Italian word I know is "Grazie". I just kept repeating the area that my hotel was in like that was going to change anything. As the cab fare got higher, my blood pressure did too. Eventually, I started noticing things that I had seen before. He dropped me off and I was able to find my way back to the hotel.
 |
| London Tube Stops Sign |
In Munich, I accidentally booked a flight home earlier than everyone else (Remember: Bad Luck Abroad Allie). I had to navigate the metro stops alone in Germany at 8 in the morning after Oktoberfest. German words look nothing like how they are pronounced. I was able to manage it and find the correct terminal for my flight. I asked customer service by showing my plane ticket and they pointed me in the right direction.
Although language barriers have existed in almost every country I have visited, it amazes me that communication is still possible. There are many people in each of the foreign countries that speak English but it is impossible to find people in America that are capable of speaking German, French, Catalon or Italian. Through a lot of time, hand gestures and pointing, I have communicated what I wanted or where I needed to go and made it there successfully. I also learned how to navigate the metros and maps in all of these countries. I better be able to figure out New York City when I get home since that has always been a challenge.
Ring of Kerry
Looking back at the four months I've spent in Ireland, my favorite weekend was the Ring of Kerry Heritage trip. This was a trip scheduled by Loyola for us to go on. As we took the bus ride from Cork to Kerry, the tour guide handed out sheets of paper that had Gaelic words written on them. She had us practice our Gaelic for most of the bus ride. We learned words like hello, thank you, your welcome and cheers. Gaelic sounds nothing like it is written so this was a big challenge. Gaelic is Ireland's traditional language although it is rarely spoken anymore. Mostly everyone speaks English so Ireland is trying to enforce Gaelic to be taught in all schools to keep their culture alive.
The first day we got there we had two guest speakers that talked to us about living in County Kerry and playing Gaelic football. The first speaker was a woman who grew up in a small town near Cahirsiveen, Kerry where only Gaelic was spoken. Kerry is the main countryside of Ireland. She had to go to school outside of the small town where she could not talk to anyone because of the language barrier. She didn't start learning English until she was 6 years old. This amazed me because I had always thought English was spoken in all parts of Ireland. The Gaelic football player taught us how to play. For someone with no coordination like me, I didn't want to embarrass myself. Gaelic football includes bouncing the ball off your foot to "dribble", passing it to other players with only a certain amount of steps allowed and shooting at the goalie as hard as possible. This was the second Irish sport I had seen. (Hurling was the first.) And I am positive I could never play either of them, yet the player told us they are born into playing and they are even required to play on the same team as their ancestors did. In America, we have so many options to play different sports or to stop playing if we want. They only play the sports that their parents played until they are too old to play anymore. If they don't make it to the professional league, they still play for fun.
We finished off the trip by making stops at Torc Waterfall and Ladies View in Killarney National Park before heading back to Cork. Torc Waterfall is a waterfall surrounded by trees covered in moss. It makes the entire area green, which is exactly what I pictured when going to the Emerald Isle. This trip was an amazing way to get to know the Irish countryside. I took my family back to all the places that we went just to see them one more time.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Finding America Abroad
Traveling to a different city every weekend allows me to experience new cultures at a rapid pace. While I am constantly on-the-go, it is nice to find a reminder of home in some of the cities.
1. Guacamole- I'm not sure who told Ireland what guacamole tastes like or how it's made, but they're doing it wrong. When I first arrived, I excitedly ordered guacamole in my chicken wrap and faced disgust with every bite. It took several different restaurants to convince me that guacamole is just terrible everywhere in Ireland and not at specific places. I have a weird obsession with guacamole. I love Chipotle and I miss it in Ireland. My first meals in London and Paris: Chipotle. And I don't even feel guilty after going three months without it. If I can't have my mom's chicken cordon bleu, at least I'm getting guacamole.
2. Firehouses- Growing up with my dad as a firefighter and living across the street from the firehouse, how could they not remind me of home? I always hear the firetruck sirens from my room in Cork and remember the annoying pager that I hear in my bedroom at home because my dad forgets to turn the volume down after he leaves. In London, a firetruck was returning from a fire call and backing into the firehouse. I felt obligated to talk to the firefighters all about my firehouse back home in New Jersey. They asked questions about what the firehouse was like and they were amazed that it was volunteer.
3. Family- The obvious reminder of home on this list was seeing my family in Glasgow, Scotland. The last time I saw them was in March for spring break when I went with my dad and grandma. They constantly asked questions about my family, showed me old pictures and told me stories.
4. Christmas Lights- Now that it is December, there are Christmas lights everywhere. In Cork, Paris and Barcelona, we went to christmas markets that were decorated. They sold ornaments, hats and decorations. It reminded me of how my house is decorated every year for Christmas. It also reminds me that I will be going home soon because I am going home close to Christmas.
While I've gotten a glimpse of home in some of these cities, it doesn't compare. The number one thing I miss about home: bagels and iced coffee. Don't cry, Mom; THAT WAS A JOKE. I miss my family and friends! And bagels and iced coffee.
1. Guacamole- I'm not sure who told Ireland what guacamole tastes like or how it's made, but they're doing it wrong. When I first arrived, I excitedly ordered guacamole in my chicken wrap and faced disgust with every bite. It took several different restaurants to convince me that guacamole is just terrible everywhere in Ireland and not at specific places. I have a weird obsession with guacamole. I love Chipotle and I miss it in Ireland. My first meals in London and Paris: Chipotle. And I don't even feel guilty after going three months without it. If I can't have my mom's chicken cordon bleu, at least I'm getting guacamole.
2. Firehouses- Growing up with my dad as a firefighter and living across the street from the firehouse, how could they not remind me of home? I always hear the firetruck sirens from my room in Cork and remember the annoying pager that I hear in my bedroom at home because my dad forgets to turn the volume down after he leaves. In London, a firetruck was returning from a fire call and backing into the firehouse. I felt obligated to talk to the firefighters all about my firehouse back home in New Jersey. They asked questions about what the firehouse was like and they were amazed that it was volunteer.
3. Family- The obvious reminder of home on this list was seeing my family in Glasgow, Scotland. The last time I saw them was in March for spring break when I went with my dad and grandma. They constantly asked questions about my family, showed me old pictures and told me stories.
4. Christmas Lights- Now that it is December, there are Christmas lights everywhere. In Cork, Paris and Barcelona, we went to christmas markets that were decorated. They sold ornaments, hats and decorations. It reminded me of how my house is decorated every year for Christmas. It also reminds me that I will be going home soon because I am going home close to Christmas.
While I've gotten a glimpse of home in some of these cities, it doesn't compare. The number one thing I miss about home: bagels and iced coffee. Don't cry, Mom; THAT WAS A JOKE. I miss my family and friends! And bagels and iced coffee.
Oktoberfest
As I headed to Munich, Germany for Oktoberfest, I anticipated the crazy weekend ahead of me that I had been looking forward to for months. I anticipated drinking beer - and a lot of it. Instead, I learned that the festival Oktoberfest has a lot more to it than just drinking beer. (Sorry, Dad, I did drink the beer though.)
I arrived at the festival and headed to the Hofbrau tent, which my friends and I were told is the best tent. I waited on line for a couple hours among people with many different accents; German, French, Spanish, even people from Texas. People from all over the world go to Oktoberfest. I could feel the excitement building as people pressed forward hoping the tent would open any minute. When the doors opened, the massive crowd stampeded past security guards to get a table inside. My friends and I rushed to a table and sat down. As more tables filled, waitresses carrying trays filled with eight steins each began circling the tables and delivering beer. Steins are the big glass cups that hold the beer.
The waitresses were dressed in their traditional outfit called a dirndl with their hair in braids. Men were wearing lederhosens, which consists of overalls and a hat. These outfits are traditional to the festival and even people who were not German were wearing them. After the first rounds of beer are delivered, waitresses start coming around to sell sausage and soft pretzels. Several people began standing up on their table and chugging beer from the stein as everyone in the tent chanted. I overheard Germans around us yelling "Prost" which means "Cheers" before they drank their beer. A band was playing German music and everyone in the tent sang all the words. By the end of the first day, we knew the words too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dD2-aSbcW0s
In the afternoon, security guards began screaming in German that we needed to leave the tables because the tables had been reserved for the rest of the day. The German language sounded so angry and mean that people could have been saying "I love you" and I would have never known. We entered the rest of Oktoberfest. There were rides everywhere. I used the words to describe it as an "adult carnival". I went on a roller coaster that went upside down seven times and swings that went so high we could see all of Munich. The age at the festival ranged from little children to senior citizens. These people were Germans who do not go to Oktoberfest for the "drinking festival" that it has the reputation to be. There is a completely different side to the festival outside of the tents. They go to enjoy their culture. They hear the music, dance, eat and wear their traditional outfits. It is a family function and tradition to attend.
It is important for people attending Oktoberfest to see the entire festival. After talking to my other friends that went different weekends, I was happy that I got to see what the festival was like inside and outside the tents.
I arrived at the festival and headed to the Hofbrau tent, which my friends and I were told is the best tent. I waited on line for a couple hours among people with many different accents; German, French, Spanish, even people from Texas. People from all over the world go to Oktoberfest. I could feel the excitement building as people pressed forward hoping the tent would open any minute. When the doors opened, the massive crowd stampeded past security guards to get a table inside. My friends and I rushed to a table and sat down. As more tables filled, waitresses carrying trays filled with eight steins each began circling the tables and delivering beer. Steins are the big glass cups that hold the beer.
The waitresses were dressed in their traditional outfit called a dirndl with their hair in braids. Men were wearing lederhosens, which consists of overalls and a hat. These outfits are traditional to the festival and even people who were not German were wearing them. After the first rounds of beer are delivered, waitresses start coming around to sell sausage and soft pretzels. Several people began standing up on their table and chugging beer from the stein as everyone in the tent chanted. I overheard Germans around us yelling "Prost" which means "Cheers" before they drank their beer. A band was playing German music and everyone in the tent sang all the words. By the end of the first day, we knew the words too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dD2-aSbcW0s
In the afternoon, security guards began screaming in German that we needed to leave the tables because the tables had been reserved for the rest of the day. The German language sounded so angry and mean that people could have been saying "I love you" and I would have never known. We entered the rest of Oktoberfest. There were rides everywhere. I used the words to describe it as an "adult carnival". I went on a roller coaster that went upside down seven times and swings that went so high we could see all of Munich. The age at the festival ranged from little children to senior citizens. These people were Germans who do not go to Oktoberfest for the "drinking festival" that it has the reputation to be. There is a completely different side to the festival outside of the tents. They go to enjoy their culture. They hear the music, dance, eat and wear their traditional outfits. It is a family function and tradition to attend.
It is important for people attending Oktoberfest to see the entire festival. After talking to my other friends that went different weekends, I was happy that I got to see what the festival was like inside and outside the tents.
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
Irish Stereotypes
I wake up and open the curtains to another gloomy, rainy day. It is pouring outside which is nothing new. I walk outside with my rain jacket and umbrella and run into the local coffee shop. "Top o' the mornin' to ya!" says the little, red-headed man behind the counter as he hands me my order, knowing it by heart. I pass by a group of red-headed students, unable to tell who has the most freckles, and they are all wearing kilts and drinking beers. At almost every table in the coffee shop, there are Guinness beers on the tables. You would never be able to tell it's only 11 a.m. I feel out of place with my brown hair and tan skin. I walk outside and see a rainbow in the sky. It's the third rainbow of the day!
After class, I walk to a local pub with my classmates in the pouring rain. I hear bagpipes and Irish music the entire way there. I look at the menu and there are three options: Mashed potatoes, Baked potatoes and Sweet potatoes. There is such a variety today! I go to order and I lay out my hand. The small leprechaun bartender climbs into the palm of my hand and I lift him up. After potatoes and beers, I'm ready to go back into the rain.
--
After three months of living in Ireland and taking a glance at the title of this blog, I realized how wrong the stereotypes of Ireland are. That story is an exaggerated version of what people anticipate Ireland to be like. In reality, almost every Irish person has dark hair and no freckles. If it rains, it rains for 10-20 minutes and then the sun is back out. An Irish person said it best, "When have you EVER heard someone Irish say 'Top o' the mornin' to ya?'" I have seen one rainbow since being here and there are no leprechauns. The food here is mainly American. While they do offer mashed potatoes, french fries or "chips" are a lot more common. Drinking is also heavily exaggerated. Cork is a college town and while there are students going out every single night, I know the same thing happens in Baltimore.
There is a lot more to the Irish culture than drinking, potatoes and rain. Cork had a big festival dedicated to Jazz music where people came from all over Ireland to listen to the jazz artists. Certain pubs have live Irish music, with guitars and banjos, almost every night of the week. Sports are a huge factor of Irish culture as there are places packed watching football (soccer), Gaelic football, and hurling matches. Irish boys are raised to play one of these sports and they train nonstop, all of their lives. The Irish girls are very tan and wear a lot of make up. My friends and I have become friends with them while they do their make up in bathrooms at pubs because as soon as they hear our American accent, they want to talk all about the U.S. One Irish girl took a picture with me because she said it was the closest she would ever get to the Jersey Shore. They consider going to college a privilege, not a right, and they work hard to get there. The Irish culture and Ireland itself should not be categorized under the stereotypes that have been developed.
After class, I walk to a local pub with my classmates in the pouring rain. I hear bagpipes and Irish music the entire way there. I look at the menu and there are three options: Mashed potatoes, Baked potatoes and Sweet potatoes. There is such a variety today! I go to order and I lay out my hand. The small leprechaun bartender climbs into the palm of my hand and I lift him up. After potatoes and beers, I'm ready to go back into the rain.
--
After three months of living in Ireland and taking a glance at the title of this blog, I realized how wrong the stereotypes of Ireland are. That story is an exaggerated version of what people anticipate Ireland to be like. In reality, almost every Irish person has dark hair and no freckles. If it rains, it rains for 10-20 minutes and then the sun is back out. An Irish person said it best, "When have you EVER heard someone Irish say 'Top o' the mornin' to ya?'" I have seen one rainbow since being here and there are no leprechauns. The food here is mainly American. While they do offer mashed potatoes, french fries or "chips" are a lot more common. Drinking is also heavily exaggerated. Cork is a college town and while there are students going out every single night, I know the same thing happens in Baltimore.
There is a lot more to the Irish culture than drinking, potatoes and rain. Cork had a big festival dedicated to Jazz music where people came from all over Ireland to listen to the jazz artists. Certain pubs have live Irish music, with guitars and banjos, almost every night of the week. Sports are a huge factor of Irish culture as there are places packed watching football (soccer), Gaelic football, and hurling matches. Irish boys are raised to play one of these sports and they train nonstop, all of their lives. The Irish girls are very tan and wear a lot of make up. My friends and I have become friends with them while they do their make up in bathrooms at pubs because as soon as they hear our American accent, they want to talk all about the U.S. One Irish girl took a picture with me because she said it was the closest she would ever get to the Jersey Shore. They consider going to college a privilege, not a right, and they work hard to get there. The Irish culture and Ireland itself should not be categorized under the stereotypes that have been developed.
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
Movies vs. Reality
I've asked several Irish people about the movies filmed in Ireland and the response is always "They're shit". They hate American movies that are supposedly Irish like P.S. I Love You and Leap Year.
Before coming abroad, I had dreamed about going to all of the places that I had seen in movies. I was eager to go to these places because famous actors and actresses were there and it looked so beautiful. I was positive that if the movie set took place there, it was going to be my favorite place. I was wrong. The Irish are right.
I watched scenes from movies that took place in Ireland, Rome and London like Harry Potter, the Lizzie McGuire Movie, and Leap Year. Before going to the places where these movies were filmed, I re-watched them, just to make sure I remembered what it looked like.
I arrived at the Cliffs of Moher, one of the most famous places in Ireland, and the cliffs were breathtaking. A scene in one of the Harry Potter movies had been filmed here but it looked nothing like this in the movie. The water hit the rocks thousands of feet below and a tiny castle sat on top of a cliff across from them. The sky was bright blue, the grass was bright green and the place felt happy. I was confused. In Harry Potter, the waves were crashing against the rocks in fury. The sky was gloomy and there was no castle. There was no resemblance to what I was seeing in the Harry Potter scene.
While driving around the Ring of Kerry, I stumbled upon a castle that is said to be in the movie Leap Year. The castle looked a lot smaller than the one in the movie and the surrounding scenery did not look the same. In the movie, Amy Adams has to climb a steep hill in the rain just to reach the castle. Yet this castle was on level ground. It was quaint and surrounded by a neighborhood.
In Rome, at the Trevi Fountain, Lizzie McGuire sings and puts on a concert while everyone cheers her on. When I visited the Trevi Fountain, hundreds of tourists were taking pictures and throwing coins into the fountain.
At King's Cross in London, Harry Potter's Platform 9 3/4 stands where Harry has to run through a brick wall to get to the Hogwarts train. Rather than seeing a sign for the platform inbetween 9 and 10, outside of the train platforms on a wall is a simple plaque for tourists that says Platform 9 3/4.
After visiting many of these places, I wasn't disappointed that it wasn't like the movie. I learned that many of the scenes had been animated using a computer and they were not real. They used these places as a starting point and changed them. The real places, however, were so much better than the movie scenes. Seeing these places in person was more beautiful than what any computer could make up. They were real. These places became my favorite places because of their true beauty, not because they were messed with to look like something else in a movie with celebrities.
Before coming abroad, I had dreamed about going to all of the places that I had seen in movies. I was eager to go to these places because famous actors and actresses were there and it looked so beautiful. I was positive that if the movie set took place there, it was going to be my favorite place. I was wrong. The Irish are right.
I watched scenes from movies that took place in Ireland, Rome and London like Harry Potter, the Lizzie McGuire Movie, and Leap Year. Before going to the places where these movies were filmed, I re-watched them, just to make sure I remembered what it looked like.
I arrived at the Cliffs of Moher, one of the most famous places in Ireland, and the cliffs were breathtaking. A scene in one of the Harry Potter movies had been filmed here but it looked nothing like this in the movie. The water hit the rocks thousands of feet below and a tiny castle sat on top of a cliff across from them. The sky was bright blue, the grass was bright green and the place felt happy. I was confused. In Harry Potter, the waves were crashing against the rocks in fury. The sky was gloomy and there was no castle. There was no resemblance to what I was seeing in the Harry Potter scene.
 |
| Opposite the Cliffs of Moher |
In Rome, at the Trevi Fountain, Lizzie McGuire sings and puts on a concert while everyone cheers her on. When I visited the Trevi Fountain, hundreds of tourists were taking pictures and throwing coins into the fountain.
At King's Cross in London, Harry Potter's Platform 9 3/4 stands where Harry has to run through a brick wall to get to the Hogwarts train. Rather than seeing a sign for the platform inbetween 9 and 10, outside of the train platforms on a wall is a simple plaque for tourists that says Platform 9 3/4.
After visiting many of these places, I wasn't disappointed that it wasn't like the movie. I learned that many of the scenes had been animated using a computer and they were not real. They used these places as a starting point and changed them. The real places, however, were so much better than the movie scenes. Seeing these places in person was more beautiful than what any computer could make up. They were real. These places became my favorite places because of their true beauty, not because they were messed with to look like something else in a movie with celebrities.
Thursday, 25 October 2012
What happened to the luck of the Irish?
I had heard of "Murphy's Law" when everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. But it had never happened to me until I went abroad.
It might've been the Murphy's pint of beer I had the first night out in Cork that spurred my streak of bad luck. After taking approximately one sip, I dropped the glass. As I tried to move away from the glass, tiny pieces seeped into the bottom of my feet and in between my toes. Immediately, blood trickled onto my shoes. I spent the entire night sitting on the bathroom floor of the pub trying to make my feet stop bleeding.
When Father Linnane visited Cork, we went to the Ballymaloe Cooking School to learn how to make different meals. One of these meals required chopping cilantro. As a terrible cook, I was eager to do something I could manage and volunteered to chop away. The cook complimented my chopping skills and I beamed with pride. I can cook! After rubbing my itchy eyes, they filled with tears. The cilantro was still on my fingers. Two holes burned into my head as tears streamed down my face. My eyes were blood shot and glassy. After four weeks of blood shot eyes, I woke up in Rome and couldn't open my eyes. They wouldn't stay open and tears streamed down my face every time I looked at a light. My eyes looked purple. I was in desperate need of an eye doctor. She told me I couldn't wear my contacts for 10 days and needed antibiotic eye drops.
My bad luck didn't stop there. As a group, we visited Ireland's old war forts and we were allowed to climb to the top to see what soldiers really had to do. Half way to the top, my old boot with a missing heel (due to tripping on a cobble stone street earlier in the trip) slipped off the rock and I tumbled to the ground, smashing my digital camera onto the cement. My head whacked the ground and I sat up uneasily attempting to stand. With a minor ankle injury and a sore head, I turned on my camera praying for the best. The screen of the camera was white but it still managed to take pictures.
Perhaps my camera was broken, but I still had my laptop to upload the pictures and see what I had taken pictures of. That was until an entire glass of water slipped out of my hand and poured onto my laptop keyboard. I frantically grabbed a towel and wiped down the keyboard. The speakers, keys and trackpad were not working. I flipped the laptop upside down and hoped it would dry itself out. After days, the laptop was still broken.
I'm not sure what happened when I got to Ireland or why I was having such bad luck. I was missing the luck of the Irish. My friends started calling me "Bad Luck Abroad Allie". And Bad Luck Abroad Allie needed her luck to change.
My bad luck didn't stop there. As a group, we visited Ireland's old war forts and we were allowed to climb to the top to see what soldiers really had to do. Half way to the top, my old boot with a missing heel (due to tripping on a cobble stone street earlier in the trip) slipped off the rock and I tumbled to the ground, smashing my digital camera onto the cement. My head whacked the ground and I sat up uneasily attempting to stand. With a minor ankle injury and a sore head, I turned on my camera praying for the best. The screen of the camera was white but it still managed to take pictures.
Perhaps my camera was broken, but I still had my laptop to upload the pictures and see what I had taken pictures of. That was until an entire glass of water slipped out of my hand and poured onto my laptop keyboard. I frantically grabbed a towel and wiped down the keyboard. The speakers, keys and trackpad were not working. I flipped the laptop upside down and hoped it would dry itself out. After days, the laptop was still broken.
I'm not sure what happened when I got to Ireland or why I was having such bad luck. I was missing the luck of the Irish. My friends started calling me "Bad Luck Abroad Allie". And Bad Luck Abroad Allie needed her luck to change.
Monday, 8 October 2012
No Beer Comes Near
I arrived at the Guinness Factory in Dublin expecting to learn about how the beer is made, the history behind it and how popular it is. I didn't expect an entire floor of the factory to be dedicated towards it's advertising, past and present. As a student studying advertising, I was surprised at how much Guinness emphasized it's advertising efforts.
I walked through the exhibit, structured like a timeline, seeing each advertisement blown up on the walls. As I walked further into their advertisements, they became more contemporary and the graphics were a lot better.
The Guinness Factory was seven floors and shaped like a pint of Guinness. At the top of the factory is a Gravity Bar where tourists can see all of Dublin below. Although I did learn how the beer is made, it's history and how popular it is, I also learned how it is advertised worldwide.
I walked through the exhibit, structured like a timeline, seeing each advertisement blown up on the walls. As I walked further into their advertisements, they became more contemporary and the graphics were a lot better.
The Guinness Factory was seven floors and shaped like a pint of Guinness. At the top of the factory is a Gravity Bar where tourists can see all of Dublin below. Although I did learn how the beer is made, it's history and how popular it is, I also learned how it is advertised worldwide.
A Look Into an Irish Home
Living in an apartment building in Ireland with other college students, I thought I'd be missing out on the "home stay" experience that other Loyola students would get to have. During our trip to Dublin, my friends and I stayed a few extra days in an Irish family's home. They lived in a small Irish suburb outside Dublin called Lucan. The neighborhood's houses were lined in a row like soldiers in the army.
As we walked into the house, we were greeted by a tiny, smiling Irish lady named Alice. My tongue tingled smelling the spicy Thai chicken curry cooking in the oven. Thai chicken curry is one of their favorite meals to eat. Alice's husband, John, son, Alan, and daughter, Kate, all sat around the table talking to us about how we liked Ireland so far. We talked about their daily lives and what it was like to grow up outside of Dublin.
Kate and Alan have both played hurling for their local sports club their entire life. They consistently practice and play games, as their dad coaches them on the sidelines. In Ireland, practice for sports is called "training". They take it very seriously and almost every person in their neighborhood plays. I had never heard of hurling before coming to Ireland. John insisted that we should go with them to their hurling training that night.
We walked up to the "pitch" where Kate's teammates were running back and forth. They carried long paddles and hit a ball, resembling a lacrosse ball, between each other. They ran up and down the field faster than jaguars chasing after their prey. Hurling looked like a combination of every single sport I have ever seen. John and Alice excitedly explained all the rules of the game. We drove back to the house and sat in the living room for biscuits and tea.
The next day after a long day of shopping, we walked into the house to the smell of Shepherd's pie. This is my favorite traditional Irish meal. Having two home cooked meals was a great change from the awful cooking I had been doing.
Spending a weekend in an Irish home was a great insight to the culture and daily lives of the Irish.
As we walked into the house, we were greeted by a tiny, smiling Irish lady named Alice. My tongue tingled smelling the spicy Thai chicken curry cooking in the oven. Thai chicken curry is one of their favorite meals to eat. Alice's husband, John, son, Alan, and daughter, Kate, all sat around the table talking to us about how we liked Ireland so far. We talked about their daily lives and what it was like to grow up outside of Dublin.
Kate and Alan have both played hurling for their local sports club their entire life. They consistently practice and play games, as their dad coaches them on the sidelines. In Ireland, practice for sports is called "training". They take it very seriously and almost every person in their neighborhood plays. I had never heard of hurling before coming to Ireland. John insisted that we should go with them to their hurling training that night.
We walked up to the "pitch" where Kate's teammates were running back and forth. They carried long paddles and hit a ball, resembling a lacrosse ball, between each other. They ran up and down the field faster than jaguars chasing after their prey. Hurling looked like a combination of every single sport I have ever seen. John and Alice excitedly explained all the rules of the game. We drove back to the house and sat in the living room for biscuits and tea.
The next day after a long day of shopping, we walked into the house to the smell of Shepherd's pie. This is my favorite traditional Irish meal. Having two home cooked meals was a great change from the awful cooking I had been doing.
Spending a weekend in an Irish home was a great insight to the culture and daily lives of the Irish.
Monday, 1 October 2012
How to Survive a 10-Mile Hike
The Situation: You're in rural Ireland staring up at a winding dirt road that disappears over a hill of bright green grass. You're about to start walking a 10-mile hike. You don't hike. It's about 9:30 a.m. You're not a morning person. You need help.
The Background: The Irish take pride in their rolling green hills and scenic views. The government has carefully created dirt paths zigzagging through several high mountains throughout Ireland for tourists to walk through, take pictures and soak in the sights. For those who can't hike; horse and carriages are available and some roads have been paved to allow cars to drive through.
I am 20 years old. I can hike; I'm just not the "hiking type".
1 Mile In: There are perfectly divided plots of farmland in the distance with cows, donkeys and sheep walking beside you. There are massive stacked rocks creating a gray and green backdrop. Grass is growing out of places you didn't think was possible. A river flows on your left calmly around the corner. Everyone is walking at a pretty fast pace and your friends are just as out of breath as you are. Take your time and walk at your own pace. Don't worry if you look out of shape; you are out of shape. So, who really cares? You want to enjoy how beautiful it is anyway. Go slow.
3 Miles In: Your lips are chapped. The sun is being chased by the clouds and you can't keep up with the temperature changes. Beads of cold sweat break out on your forehead. It's hard to swallow or talk over your own panting. No one told you about these steep inclines. Bring a water bottle to stay hydrated throughout the hike. You might think it's annoying to carry but you're not fooling anyone if you think you can make it hiking 10 miles without water.
The horse and carriages passing by make your surroundings seem like a movie. But no one in that movie seemed to care about the stench of the horse poop. At this point, breathing is optional. The manure has created an obstacle course. You are dodging poop, focusing on breathing and hiking a mountain. Wear a scarf to cover your nose; it'll solve at least one of your problems.
5 Miles In: No one is in sight. You're almost at the top of an incline. The end of the hike has to be over this hill; you close your eyes. Your friends squeeze their eyes shut. Walking has become a slow shuffle forward. At the top, you all open your eyes at the same time. More winding dirt roads. More hills. No building or person in sight. The gray and green backdrop continues on as the river flows beside you. Nothing has changed.
You feel a blister emerging at the back of each ankle. You feel a thumping heartbeat in the back of each calf as you creep down the hill. Wincing in the pain of walking on your heels, you begin walking on the balls of your feet. Dodging the poop has become even more of a struggle. Wearing sneakers and high socks is a necessity for hiking. Stop for stretch breaks along the way to ease the pain.
7 Miles In: A tiny waterfall trickles from the top of a stack of rocks into the river. "That would look really pretty if it started raining right now," your friend says. Rain begins smacking your rain jackets and turns into hail. The waterfall isn't even visible through the huge rain drops. Wear a rain jacket regardless of any weather report. It can rain in Ireland even when it's sunny.
You spot a cottage up the road and you're sure this is the end. The Irish lady inside tells you that there is still three more miles until the end. You collapse to the ground.
The End: You are convinced you missed the group's stopping point somewhere. You swear that you will never make it back to civilization. And then, you see it. As you shuffle past the last batch of trees, Kate's Cottage is there; it's not a hallucination. You made it to the end.
The Background: The Irish take pride in their rolling green hills and scenic views. The government has carefully created dirt paths zigzagging through several high mountains throughout Ireland for tourists to walk through, take pictures and soak in the sights. For those who can't hike; horse and carriages are available and some roads have been paved to allow cars to drive through.
I am 20 years old. I can hike; I'm just not the "hiking type".
1 Mile In: There are perfectly divided plots of farmland in the distance with cows, donkeys and sheep walking beside you. There are massive stacked rocks creating a gray and green backdrop. Grass is growing out of places you didn't think was possible. A river flows on your left calmly around the corner. Everyone is walking at a pretty fast pace and your friends are just as out of breath as you are. Take your time and walk at your own pace. Don't worry if you look out of shape; you are out of shape. So, who really cares? You want to enjoy how beautiful it is anyway. Go slow.
3 Miles In: Your lips are chapped. The sun is being chased by the clouds and you can't keep up with the temperature changes. Beads of cold sweat break out on your forehead. It's hard to swallow or talk over your own panting. No one told you about these steep inclines. Bring a water bottle to stay hydrated throughout the hike. You might think it's annoying to carry but you're not fooling anyone if you think you can make it hiking 10 miles without water.
The horse and carriages passing by make your surroundings seem like a movie. But no one in that movie seemed to care about the stench of the horse poop. At this point, breathing is optional. The manure has created an obstacle course. You are dodging poop, focusing on breathing and hiking a mountain. Wear a scarf to cover your nose; it'll solve at least one of your problems.
5 Miles In: No one is in sight. You're almost at the top of an incline. The end of the hike has to be over this hill; you close your eyes. Your friends squeeze their eyes shut. Walking has become a slow shuffle forward. At the top, you all open your eyes at the same time. More winding dirt roads. More hills. No building or person in sight. The gray and green backdrop continues on as the river flows beside you. Nothing has changed.
You feel a blister emerging at the back of each ankle. You feel a thumping heartbeat in the back of each calf as you creep down the hill. Wincing in the pain of walking on your heels, you begin walking on the balls of your feet. Dodging the poop has become even more of a struggle. Wearing sneakers and high socks is a necessity for hiking. Stop for stretch breaks along the way to ease the pain.
7 Miles In: A tiny waterfall trickles from the top of a stack of rocks into the river. "That would look really pretty if it started raining right now," your friend says. Rain begins smacking your rain jackets and turns into hail. The waterfall isn't even visible through the huge rain drops. Wear a rain jacket regardless of any weather report. It can rain in Ireland even when it's sunny.
You spot a cottage up the road and you're sure this is the end. The Irish lady inside tells you that there is still three more miles until the end. You collapse to the ground.
The End: You are convinced you missed the group's stopping point somewhere. You swear that you will never make it back to civilization. And then, you see it. As you shuffle past the last batch of trees, Kate's Cottage is there; it's not a hallucination. You made it to the end.
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
Arriving in Cork...
Three weeks ago, I packed two huge suitcases, a backpack and my pillow pet into the car as I got ready to leave for the airport. I bit my lip every time I looked at my mom's red face, trying not to cry. After a quick goodbye at the airport, I rushed through security and to the gate. "It's just a vacation; I'll see them soon," I thought to myself. But, I was going abroad to Ireland and staying there for four months. As soon as I got off the plane in Ireland, I smiled. This was going to be one of the best experiences of my life.
Flying a red eye flight meant a full day was ahead of us as soon as we got to our apartment in Cork. A few irish students took us into town to get bedding, toiletries and a trendy flip phone. We ate dinner at a great Italian restaurant. Being the pickiest eater ever and refusing to try any food, I ate pizza. This is not a traditional irish meal but it was still amazing. I promised myself (and everyone else) I'd try something that I wouldn't normally eat in America.
The next day, we had a day trip to the Barryscourt Castle and Jameson Factory. We toured the inside of the castle and the outdoor garden. I learned about the history and architecture of the castle. We also toured the Jameson Factory. I volunteered to be a taste tester of three different kinds of whiskey. After three shots, three scrunched up facial expressions and a glass of water, I received a certificate as an official taste tester. Obviously, whiskey is not my favorite but Jameson was definitely the best one.
Flying a red eye flight meant a full day was ahead of us as soon as we got to our apartment in Cork. A few irish students took us into town to get bedding, toiletries and a trendy flip phone. We ate dinner at a great Italian restaurant. Being the pickiest eater ever and refusing to try any food, I ate pizza. This is not a traditional irish meal but it was still amazing. I promised myself (and everyone else) I'd try something that I wouldn't normally eat in America.
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| View from my apartment in Cork |
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| Jameson Factory |
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| Barryscourt Castle |
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