Ireland Trip: Day 17

Eating at Burger King was, despite its American origins, a uniquely Irish experience. I could say that most notably I was the only foreigner in the restaurant, with the eyes of several women and children fixed on me as I ate my Whopper with cheese in the corner. But, it was the subtle ways in which my classically American meal was turned into something Irish that stand out most to me.

First, the selection of burgers and side orders was vastly limited from what I remembered of the BK at home. In addition to this, there was no clear indication of where customers should start a line. Groups of hungry patrons simply milled about until an employee asked them for their order. But the most notable difference here was the lack of pretense often found in American fast food chains. There was no façade attempting to class up the joint, something American restaurants do in an effort to attract a wealthier clientele. Here within the grunge of the establishment, things are exactly as they seem. I and the 15 other odd people knew exactly what we wanted and what we were getting; we had it our way with none of the shame or guilt attached to unhealthy food or corporate greed.

Much of Armagh has proven to be this way, in that people seem to know what they want and take it without the usual guilt that accompanies Americans. In today’s political climate, the Irish seem freer in their religious beliefs, political actions, sexual discourse and indulgence in vices than Americans who overanalyze every minute detail. Here, analysis is saved for the classroom or psychiatrist’s office (of which I have seen none).

While the Irish are direct in what they want, at the same time they tend to talk circles around what they mean to say. In a country stereotypically known for the anger its citizens often display, Margaret’s calm recollection of the murder of her grandfather surprised the entire class. Her almost casual reflection at the loss her family suffered in recent years both shocked and sobered me. There was no vengeance in her voice, no desire to exact revenge on the militant extremists who riddled her family house with bullets; she only noted how “interesting” it was to meet an accomplice in the event.

Listening to this story could not have made it more apparent to me of my visitor’s status; women and children’s eyes glued to me meant nothing compared to the gut certainty of my inadequate understanding of this part of the Irish culture. The readiness and ease of calling up tragic events in recent years is both a part of the land and the people who inhabit it. As a visitor to the town, it seems that much is hidden from the average eye of the tourist. On the surface level, Armagh is active in the arts, thriving with local businesses, full of friendly people and seemingly trouble free. Yet, a bomb threat like the one Monday reminds us of the close proximity Armagh has to the Troubles this country has worked so hard to move on from.

When I first came to Armagh, I saw a city not unlike my own. Once I scratched the surface, broke through the glossy image those who fly through town may see, the unfamiliar culture and history of the city of the seven hills came flooding out. Much like my visit, I went in seeing something American but came out with a wholly Irish experience.

Ireland Trip: Day 12

At one point in time, I thought I might major in history. Then I realized the massive body of knowledge I would be responsible for knowing (or at least pretending to know) and I bailed out. Therefore, I am always impressed by those around me who are, quote-unquote, history buffs.

Last night, Phil and John, the two employees at the hostel, presented a showing of the film "Bloody Sunday," based on the events of the same name. To introduce us foreigners to the film, they spoke on the subject for a few minutes. As I listened, I was impressed at the knowledge John possesses both on Irish history and U.S. history. The first time I met him, he showed me (and Mom, Molly and Laura, who were there as well) a picture he had taken of the White House. Situated next to it was a picture of Abraham Lincoln, done in an effort to illustrate his desire to not affiliate himself with the current administration.

Shortly after, John expanded on his knowledge of recent events in history, showing a depth of

understanding I didn't expect to find in anyone outside the U.S. I was slightly embarassed at my lack of knowledge of Irish history: All I knew was that the Catholics and the Protestants fought for a while and that sometime in the last century the potato famine killed a lot of people.

Part of what is great about a program like the one I am in is its ability to educate its participants on many levels. What first attracted me to the program was its relation to media and journalism. I was next drawn to the idea of studying in Ireland. But the last thing that struck me, perhaps even as late as since I've been here, is the element of total immersion. It is one thing to study Irish history and culture; it's something else to experience it.

"Bloody Sunday" was a decent film. The acting was good and the film was shot in an interesting manner, cutting between the British and Irish points of view. But what makes it compelling and worth watching is the in-depth look at the story itself. The audience is taken step by step through the day, with a brief look at what lead up to it and what happened after it.

I won't lie: I spent most of the night checking Facebook, writing e-mails and looking at the ridiculous amount of pictures I took yesterday. I was the spitting image of Mom when she watches TV, head down buried in a book or laptop. But, when the climax of the film came, when men, women and children were slaughtered for participating in a peaceful protest, I sat up and gave notice. Gore and violence do not normally appeal to me, especially when they are realistic in nature. This is not what draws your attention, however. The human suffering (which you know really happened) is like a bad car wreck: unbearable to watch but impossible to turn away from.

As John spoke before the film, he said something that stuck in my mind: "Nothing was the same after that."

I have the same feeling about this trip. This is not to say my experience here is remotely as life-altering as Bloody Sunday is and was for the Irish, but rather I have a sense that immersing myself in a culture other than my own has opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed. It's true I've studied and gained a book knowledge of life outside America, but I've never actually seen and lived among it until now.

Amy always talk about how learning is better when you feel a certain amount of discomfort. This is the best example I can think of, and I know my educational life will never be the same after the completion of this program.

Armagh is so close to home, yet so far away (Ireland Trip: Day 10)

Today was eventful for more than one reason. One: We finally got some toilet paper (thank God!); and two: We had our first day of class today.

Despite the scatterbrained nature of most of the professors, I think this is going to turn out to be a GREAT learning experience. What will end up making it challenging, however, is not the work assigned, but living up to the expectations of the other students. We had a free writing exercise today in class, and the first girl who read her work literally blew me away (I could feel the wind push me back against the wall). I've always seen myself as a talented writer, and I came into this program thinking writing was the only thing I could fall back on as an easy thing to do. Now I'm not so sure. I fell greatly inspired to do my best work possible and have already begun brainstorming and writing.

Tonight we went to a play that was obviously written by an Irishman, and it was so difficult to follow that I left at intermission. Now that's saying something, given the fact that I am a HUGE theatre fan. But, it gave me a chance to really get to visit with my roommate Alex one-on-one. She is very cool - from Long Island - and seems to be pretty laid back. She has all her crap strung out across the room but promises she will unpack soon, so I don't care too much.

Yesterday we took a trip to the supermarket and I bought some salad fixing, sandwich fixings, and an avacado, lime and guacamole mix. Yes, that's right, it will be my first attempt at making guacamole. Wish me luck! There are NO Mexican restaraunts, but (much like home) tons of Chinese restaraunts, and I've never craved Chilango's more than I do right now.

Everyone is trying to plan their weekend travel trips. It seems that no matter what I want to do someone will accompany me. I think this weekend I will stay in Ireland and maybe do The Cliffs of Moher and The Giant's Causeway. Next weekend will most likely be spent in London. If I get my work done early enough, I might go over a night early so I can have two FULL days in London. I've dropped the idea of going to Paris (if our trip in Ireland taught me anything, it's to give myself plenty of time for travel), and I'm not sure what I want to do the third weekend. However, I do think Laura and I are going to go to Dublin a day early so that we can have fun looking around before our plane leaves. It all depends on whether we get our work done on time (which for us, I'm not worried about).

I'm about 150 pages away from finishing Harry Potter. Last night and the night before I stayed in and read. Tonight I saw that dreadful play and hung out for a while afterward, but as soon as I'm done typing this, I'm going to get back to reading.

So on that note, Cheers! I miss my friends and family, but I know leaving this city will be as difficult as it was leaving Tahlequah.

Ireland Trip: Day 6

I think I've finally gotten over the jet lag.

I've never flown quite as far as to Ireland before, having never left the country. So when jet lag set in for me Wednesday night in Cashel, boy was I knocked off my feet.

Upon arriving in Ireland, I landed in Shannon airport, an airport that make Tahlequah's strip look as big as Tulsa's. Mom, Molly and Laura picked me up and off we went, making our way down to Cashel. That day I got my first glimpse of Ireland.

Ireland is definitely as green as people say it is (I've never seen so many different shades of green in my life), but there's more to the countryside than that. The vast and different terrains we've encountered in the three days I've been here are unbelievable.

I've been to the Rock of Cashel, the Waterford Crystal Factory and Trinity College in Dublin to name a few, and as much fun as I'm having, I'm worn out. Tomorrow we are heading up to Armagh, the town in which Laura and I will be staying for the next four weeks. I'm anxious to see what the town is like, but I don't want this leg of the trip to end. Saying goodbye to Mom and Molly will suck, because we've had a great time together. But that's a couple more days away. Right now I think I'm just going to hit the sack and get some rest for the remainder of our trip.

I'll try and check in later, but I'm not sure when I'll have Internet access again.

Ireland Trip: Day 2

Living out of a suitcase in your own home is an odd experience.

Because of my overzealous nature when it comes to packing and organizing, I've been packed to go on my trip since Thursday night. This would not have been too bad if I had left Sunday, but the days keep going on and I still haven't left the country.

That's all about to change, though, because this morning when I opened the front door to go to the travel agent's office, my passport was sitting there in a FedEx box! I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful official document.

I rushed over to the travel agent's office and she, being the fabulous agent she is, worked her magic - with minimal cost for the new ticket. Now I'm scheduled to leave the country tomorrow, which will put me in Ireland Wednesday morning. Then I'll be dancing a jig and playing the harp, or some other Irish stuff.

Man, I really need to learn something about Irish culture.

Ireland Trip: Day 1

Today is the first day of my trip to Ireland ... and I'm still in Tahlequah! Due to a series of unfortunate events (heh), my passport did not make it to me in time to catch my flight today. It's on its way to me, though, lying somewhere between New Hampshire and Sandy Circle.

I'm packed and ready to go. Now I just need to find a way to get there.

Hmm ... maybe I'll stage an international incident ...