Castles, Cliffs, and Shores

It is official. My weekends start on Thursday here, and nothing short of awesome will result from it. The weekend began with an IFSA-Butler-sponsored trip to Blackrock Castle Observatory, located about 10 to 15 minutes driving distance beyond the Center City of Cork. It was a neat, nice little place with a cool history of it basically progressing from castle, to watch post, to mini armory, to beautiful relic after a fire or two, and then to an astronomy observatory tower. There was a tour of the historic part of Blackrock Castle, guided by an Irish woman who took her job of historical replica actor very, very seriously. (Remember South Park’s episode with the colonial-style town set in 1864, and none of the actors would ever break character? Imagine that, except an Irish character based about 16^th or 17^th century). The rest of the castle is an interactive science museum with most of the exhibits dealing either astronomical topics, such as celestial bodies and possibility of extraterrestrial life, or evolution. Our group was also allowed to play their simulator game where you have to same the earth from an incoming meteor while also learning all the facts about meteor-like bodies in space. Including the “free” lamb dinner I got (free as in IFSA-Butler paid for it), it was an excellent trip.

One unfortunate thing about attending that trip though was that we all missed one of Ireland’s favorite fake holidays, Arthur’s Day. Arthur’s Day is centered around Arthur Guinness, the founder of Guinness stout. At 17:59 (that’s 5:59 pm), in honor of the year Arthur Guinness first brewed Guinness stout, everyone in Ireland should find there way to a pub where a pint of Guinness is on discounted price (in some places, it’s free, as I found out from one of the IFSA-Butler students studying in Maynooth) and everyone is supposed to raise his/her glass in honor of Arthur. I’m not sure if it’s done every year, but there are occasions where everyone is told to go outside at 17:59 so there is an aerial shot of everyone holding up his/her pint of Guinness. Sadly, when we went out later that night, the discounts were over. I paid full price for my pint of Guinness on Arthur’s Day. The night still ended in a drunken haze, so it was not all bad.

 The rest of the weekend, two of my flat mates, and two of their friends, invited me to this weekend get away they were having in Lahinch, Ireland. For those of you who either don’t’ know Irish geography, or are too lazy to use Google’s stalking materials between Google Maps and Google Earth, Lahinch is about an hour car ride northwest of Limerick. My Irish flat mate’s parents had a vacation house in Lahinch, so there was an immediate €40-€60 savings on not needing a hostel. We attempted to go out to pub in the town the first night. Let’s just say it was a bad idea. You know how in the States, coastal/beach towns become void of young and attractive people outside of the summer season? Yeah, that was Lahinch. Our crew was not only the youngest people in there, but we also didn’t blend in well. However, that’s to be expected when only one of your five-person crew is actually Irish. We also had a Frenchman, a Slovak, an Indian, and an American (which of course was me). So that night ended very quickly.

The next day we woke up early to catch the France v New Zealand Rugby World Cup match in one of the local hotels that had a bar and breakfast in it. Much to our French friend’s dismay, France suffered an unfortunate whooping by the hands of the All Blacks (New Zealand’s team name). But to make up for it, the rest of the day was wonderful. We started off with the Cliffs of Moher. Words simply could not describe how beautiful, stunning, and breathtaking (and windy!) it was. Many, many pictures were taken (pictures that will be added on here as soon as I figure out how. Yes, I still have yet to figure it out).  Towards the entrance (or shall I say the exit, since we didn’t go in until we explored just about every walkable inch of the Cliffs that we could) there is a museum hall dedicated to the Cliffs, their preservation, and climate change and its effects upon the area. There was also a really neat CGI program of you exploring the edges of the Cliff from a “bird’s eye view” (literally).

From there, we decided to play “pitch and putt.” Not being familiar with anything golf related (besides mini-golf), I thought it was the same thing. Apparently, it’s not. It is, in a way, Golf junior, in that it isn’t big enough to technically be labeled a golf course, but it is without the small and crazy additives that define mini-golf. We played all 18 holes. Needless to say, I came in last. However, I did hit a birdie, naturally, on the 18^th hole. Yes, like so many other things in my life, I finally get the hang of it right when it’s almost over. Fun times, regardless.

From there we decided to cook ourselves a cheap dinner, since we had a full kitchen at our disposal. Yet another €10-€20 we saved by not going out to eat. That night was spent playing an interesting card game that is really popular between my flat mates and their friends. I keep forgetting the name of it, but it’s a very quick paced card strategy game. It’s loads of fun once you get the hang of it. After the card games and dinner, the night delved into a very long conversation basically about evolution, eugenics, quantum physics/alternate realities, and West vs. East “superiority” (I use superiority loosely because that wasn’t what was actually being argued, but still the only word that encompassed enough of what was being discussed). These conversations took not one, not two, not even three, but four whole hours of our night up. Yes, we ended up not going out or drinking that night (sadly). However, being a philosophy and religious studies major, I loved every second of the topics.

The next and final day of the weekend I woke up feeling the very beginning symptoms of a cold. But it was time to spend the morning on the Irish beachfront. Three of the crew went in and did a combination of body surfing and actual surfing. Another and myself decided just to stand mid-shin deep into the water and take pictures of our friends, the surfers. Fun times were had all around. Afterwards, we quickly cleaned up around the vacation house, and drove back to Limerick where we caught an early bus headed back to Cork just in time (Literally 30 seconds before it was about to leave, no joke). The bus ride back was an easy hour and half, which was immensely better than the 2 and half hours it took to get to Limerick from Cork on the same bus just a few days prior. All in all, it was a successful adventure weekend.

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful. Fighting this cold (which I’m almost over), doing Laundry (which cost my €10 to wash and dry two loads. Yes, you read that correctly, €10. Guess who wasn’t happy when he found out how much laundry was? Me), going to class (still uneventful), and one night at a pub (Yes, I went out and drank a couple beers while fighting a cold. There are worse things one could do).

So two lessons I learned this week living live in Ireland:

Lesson #1: If you have an Irish friend offering cheap or free accommodation to a nice, beautiful, far away place on the island, you take him/her up on that offer. Every time.

Lesson #2: Doing laundry here is expensive. To circumvent this, find an air freshener (even better if you find a fabric freshener, which I have yet to find) and spray your clothes like crazy. Hang them up, mix and match, and you’ll be set for a few more weeks.

Until next time, stay tuned. 

Corcaigh, Eire (Cork, Ireland)

It’s been a little over a week since I’ve arrived in Cork, and to all of your disappointment, I didn’t write down everything that happened the moment it happened. So allow my some time to recall and summarize everything that’s happened in this neat little city so far.

The IFSA-Butler crew and I arrived some point in the early afternoon on the 14^th, and on the bus ride here I took a shade under 100 pictures of the Irish countryside (I promise I will post those pictures here on the blog as soon as I figure out how to do it, it’s proving a little more complex than I originally thought). So, we arrived at UCC and had to check in to our respective accommodations. Most of the IFSA-Butler people (including myself) were placed in the UCC University Hall, which is a very nice, flat style accommodation: between 3 and 5 single bedrooms (mine has 4), one bathroom per flat, kitchen and common room with all the furnishings. My only qualm with the place so far is that the hot water seems to magically turn on and off, but otherwise it is a very nice accommodation.

Later that day, the IFSA-Butler crew and I explored the city center a little bit. Since I am only one of two males in the group, shopping seemed to be the first thing on the list. While normally I would protest since shopping (even for myself) is one of the most boring activities ever, I did desperately need bedding and food. So, obliging the wishes of the crew. We went first to a common Irish shopping store called Dunnes. For those of you unfamiliar with the chain, it is a fairly popular here, and to me resembled a bit like Macy’s/JC Pennys/Sears (insert whatever store, they all look the same to me) in the states, except with groceries in the basement. Frank (the other male in the IFSA-Butler group) and I seemed content when we found our bedding, but the girls were not pleased with the lack of feminine choices in their bedding. So, we then opted to go to the Penneys store across the way, which is essentially the same store to me, minus the groceries. I will admit that I’m glad I ended up not getting the Dunnes bedding because the Penneys bedding ended up being twice as many sheets, for less of the cost. Basically, instead of paying €12 for a single set of sheets, I got two sheets for €9.

**I will take one for the team here: As a straight, single male, and for all men like me everywhere, I will admit that when it comes to shopping, we don’t have a clue what we’re doing. So women everywhere of all kinds (well, except rich spoiled bitches that think money grows on trees) you win this round**

When it came to the groceries, we ended up going to Tesco instead. This was provoked when some of the girls tried to buy all their groceries at Dunnes (who promise free deliver when you by €40 or more in gorcieres) ended up being refused the free delivery service because they were “too late.” Again, it turned out to be a better deal because just about everything at Tesco ended up being significantly cheaper than at Dunnes. To summarize today’s lesson in living in Cork: Fuck Dunnes. Tesco for your food and other groceries, and Penneys for your clothing and other housing materials is a better combination than Dunnes. (Luckily, the Wilton Shopping Center in the opposite direction of the city, but still about 10-20 minute walk from University Hall has both Tesco and Penneys together.)

Now that the boring shopping part of my story is over, it’s time for the fun part: the drinking. The next night after orientation, we all went out drinking. We went to this pub on Washington Street called the “The Star.” (I hope to have a comprehensive post providing reviews of all the pubs I frequent while I’m here by the end of my semester, so stay tuned for that).  Apparently, our American accents must have been loud, because not too long after we sat down and started drinking in the Pub, this one lad from Limerick introduces himself and tries to figure out where we’re all from. He, Natalie (one of the girls in the IFSA-Butler crew), and I ended up talking a bit about rugby since we all played at some point. Let’s just say the position I (poorly) play at home, I don’t come close to being adequate here in Ireland. Then the Irish lad introduces one of his friends to us. He ended up being a history major and wound up talking to me a lot about politics, media, etc. It was a great time. The Guinness there was good, but pricey, so I switched to Beamish, the Cork brand stout. It was probably the smartest decision I have made so far. Not only is Beamish somewhere between €.70 and €1.50 cheaper than Guinness in most places, I find it has a thicker, fuller flavor than Guinness (Like the pub review idea, a comparison between all the stouts available in Ireland will also be made in full in a later post forthcoming).

After that, half of the crew followed our newly acquainted Irish friends to a nightclub, and the other half stayed in “The Star” until closing time. Frank and I stayed until closing time, but then decided to go out and find one of the few remaining pubs open until 2 am. Let’s see, two guys that just arrived in a brand new city, a little bit inebriated, trying to go further into town looking for specific bars. Sounds like we wouldn’t get lost, right? Ha ha. Wrong! Like Dublin, Cork’s city streets aren’t well labeled (though still better labeled than Dublin once we knew where to look). It seriously must be a European thing to not have well marked street signs. Luckily, we found a group of locals who kindly told us how to get back to UCC.

Then there was Saturday night, where we all bought tickets to a UCC sponsored party held in “The New Bar” on campus. It was a lot of fun. It was like a high school dance, except with alcohol. We all now those kind of things are better with alcohol. It was markedly different though. Unlike in the States where “grinding” seems to be the popular dance with everyone, I do not believe I saw it happen at all here (the same goes for later in the week when Frank and I went to a popular college bar in town, and I don’t believe I saw it at all there either). People in Ireland seem to just get in large circles of people and dance.

The rest of the week pretty much was uneventful. Classes started but it is different here in Ireland (yes, this too will also have a more elaborate post on the topic of Irish academics forthcoming).  So I believe I will stop here. Stay tuned for more updates.

Dublin: My observations

DISCLAIMER 1: Every second I spent in Dublin was spent either exhausted from jetlag or inebriated from the night we all went out drinking.

DISCLAIMER 2: In honor of a native son of Dublin, this post was written purposefully in the style of stream-of-consciousness. Do not attempt to make any logical progression out of my observations of the city. It will hurt your brain, a lot.

Guinness, Guinness, Guinness. Definitely the best thing bout Dublin. Those first two pints I had at The Ginger Man actually were disappointing, they fucking tasted like the Guinness in the States, but only slightly better. Not in the storehouse though. They know what they’re doing there. Dublin wasn’t nearly as cosmopolitan as I thought and was told it would be. still kinda rural in a way. Except for the walking. Fucking fifteen minute walk everywhere apparently. Such lies. I better pick up my pace though, Cork is probably the same except a smaller city limit area. I guess you can still consider it cosmopolitan. Hell the most conversation I got while I was there was from those two American step brothers and that Australian comedian. Cosmopolitan I guess. Not New York or London cosmopolitan, but cosmopolitan by definition I guess. People need to stop need saying Philly is so dirty and smelly. They clearly never traveled or have just their heads up their fucking asses. Every big city has at least its smelly and dirty sections. The non-gypsy beggars took me a bit by surprise though. Everyone knows Gypsies are all over Europe and try to get money off of you, but I guess I just thought in Europe it was exclusively them, and that most everyone else was fine. Should’ve known better. Oh well. Man was it expensive too. €4.65 a pint? Fuck that noise. Those meals weren’t cheap either. Thank God, IFSA-Butler paid for them. I may have needed to take out a loan just to afford to eat there. Man, the roads are crazy too. I almost forgot about them. I thought it would just be like the states except reversed since they drive on the right hand side. Nope. Wrong. It’s fucking crazy driving there. Weird divided lanes. Sudden change in the direction of the street at different intersections. It was really weird. The lanes were both well labeled and then not well labeled. Just weird for an American. Those look left and look right direction on the cross walks though were an excellent idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was inspired due to too many pedestrian casualties. Oh, also, fuck those poorly labeled streets. Do Europeans not believe in knowing what street your on? Seriously. Come to think of it, it was amazing how rustic the feel of the city was despite all its modernization its going through. Most American cities don’t go further back thank the 1600s, and really no older than 1500s. but looking at a city that was much, much older, it kinda puts things in perspective how old humans really are. Plenty of hot girls though. Wish I had more time to explore that, but I guess I’ll have to hope the Cork girls are just as hot, if not hotter, than those Dublin girls. I guess what I really want to say is: fuck fifteen minute walks. 

The Rocky Road to Dublin

What a Rocky road it was. Allow me some time to recall the last three days here in Ireland. But first, the trip to Ireland itself was quite nerve racking, considering all the delays, missed flights, rebookings, and sprinting from terminal to terminal. The journey began at Philadelphia International Airport. I arrived and checked in for my flight somewhere around 4 o’clock PM. Nothing unusual.  Then I get on the plane, sit in my middle row seat, still nothing out of the ordinary. Then the captain announced there were sixteen (!) flights in front of us before we could take off. He wasn’t sure why, but the captain thought it was because of all the 9/11 ceremonies slowing every flight on the east coast down. So, a flight that was supposed to depart at 6:15 PM didn’t really fly until about 7:20 PM. We didn’t land in Boston Logan until around 8:20 PM. 

If you’re unfamiliar with Boston Logan Airport, let me sum it up, you need to take a shuttle between all the terminals. By the time I discovered which terminal I had to be at, and which shuttle will actually take me to said Terminal (it was Terminal E, by the way. I landed in Terminal B) between 20 and 25 minutes had passed. I finally get to the Aer Lingus station to get my boarding pass, they turned my right around saying the plane had already finished boarding, and was about to take off. I was too late. Completely distraught, I wandered my way back to Terminal B to talk to the US Airways people. It took about a half hour to finally find someone. I talk to the woman there, and she has me about ready to burst down in tears. As helpful as she was trying to be, telling my the next flight to Dublin was 6 PM the next day wasn’t exactly the news a first time flier wants, or even needs, to hear. Luckily her younger male associate came out to assist her, and he awesomely found me a flight to London Heathrow Airport at 10:55 PM later that night, with a connecting flight soon after I arrived in London. I sprinted across the way to the American Airlines terminal (which was the airline going to London), and get on. 

The flight was not too shabby. I got about a two hour nap on it and woke up about 45 minutes before the plane was supposed to land. We actually arrived at London around 10 AM, London time. But due to delays on the ground, the airport told our flight to keep circling. We circled around London for about a half an hour. My new connecting Aer Lingus flight was scheduled about 45 minutes after I landed. As you can see, there seems to be a pattern here. Remember when I described Boston Logon earlier? Take that, and multiply it by 3, and you get London Heathrow. Clearly, I didn’t stand a chance getting to that Aer Lingus flight either. So, after a lengthy line through security and customs (apparently, I still had to go through customs in the UK to get to the Republic of Ireland, even thought they’re two separate, sovereign countries. Not sure how that works) I get all the way through, find the Aer Lingus terminal, and practically begged the woman at the desk to let me on the next flight to Dublin. She was awesome with getting me on, but she was really curious why I had no bags (yes, they were left in Boston this whole time, except I still couldn’t claim them when I was there because they went to baggage purgatory). But the Aer Lingus woman in London was very kind and helpful in both getting me on the next flight to Dublin and contacting Dublin about my bags. 

So finally I get on the Aer Lingus plane and, lo and behold, there more delays. There was somewhere between 6 and 9 planes before our plane could take off. So it takes off and lands in Dublin around 2:15 or 2:20 PM, Dublin time. Going through customs was easy, they just looked at my passport, looked at my acceptance letter, took a picture of me, and then I was off to baggage claim. The Aer Lingus baggage claim woman was fairly helpful. I’ll spare the details there though, a lot of it was misunderstandings, but she got the gist of how I could get the bags at my hotel and it wasn’t a problem. 

Then I find an aircoach bus that is supposed to take my right to my hotel. The ticket taker was not at all helpful in explaining which bus will lead me to my hotel. I had to ask one of the bus drivers who pulled in, and he curtly replied that it was not his route but another one. So when that particular bus route arrived, I hopped on. The driver goes all the way to the end of the route and forgot where I wanted to get off. He knew I wasn’t from around there, considering the American accent. Luckily, the path to the hotel was a straight walk, and according to him, it should’ve taken 15 minutes. 

A little word of advice to anyone unfamiliar with the Irish judgment of distances: whenever an Irish person tells you something is a 15 minute walk, in American distance, it’s at least twice that time, and in some cases thrice that time. But anyway, I finally got to the hotel and checked in at 4:55 PM exactly. I was supposed to be there by at least 2 PM. Luckily though, none of the events started until 5:15 PM. I got lucky there, but the jet lag was still quite the bitch. 

Starting that Journey of a Thousand Steps

They say that a journey of a thousands steps starts with the first step. Consider this post the first step. The majority of this upcoming day will be spent between airports and airplanes. The exciting part of this is that, in reality, this is the first time I’ll ever be flying. It is probably around the time were most people’s travel blogs will tell you their pre-flight expectations of their trip. To your possible disappointment, I will not be doing that for you. Publically posting such expectations will probably only cause the opposite of all such results I’m hoping for, so no. I will, however, tell you what I hope to accomplish with the blog.

I hope to essentially chronicle my adventures during my time studying at University College Cork. I hope also to provide decent scope of comparison and contrast between the Irish and American way of life. I also hope to provide a fair scope between the differences of the cultures within the different major cities within Ireland.

While the blog’s title suggests that my time and analysis will be strictly from Cork, I will attempt to travel throughout Ireland and other sections of Europe.

But to close this entry, I’ll return to the opening point. The first step starts today. From Philadelphia International Airport, to Boston Airport, and then ending this first step by landing in Dublin Airport.  I’m beginning my own rocky road to Dublin.