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.

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.

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.

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.