"They say if you get far enough away you'll be on your way back home."

Traveling is like a menu...

That has been one of the best and worst things I've discovered about exploring. There are so many choices, so many flavors you can taste, so many adventures you can chose to go on! Do I want a club sandwich? Irish stew? A Greek salad? Or a California roll? But you just can't order it all. You can have whatever you want, but you don't really know what you want until you have it. Going abroad just takes it to a whole new level, you aren't just passing through staying in hotels and seeing the sites--you are actually making a home and a life only to pick it up 4 months later. To continue with the menu simile, it's like you are committing yourself to a 100 course meal that will take you 4 months to eat!

I love traveling and think that living in one spot for an extended period of time is far more valuable for me than going on a "see it all in one week" type of vacation. I am realizing (and trying to accept) that you have to appreciate where you are AND also recognize that being somewhere else and experiencing another place can be just as rewarding. At the risk of sounding cliche, it's about living in the moment, understanding that there are many types of cakes you can eat, and enjoying every bite you take without worrying about when the cake is gone.

It's the end of the week of camp, when it's hard to respond to the question: what was the best part? Because every moment was amazing. When you have so many places you can call home, you are lucky. And boy am I lucky.

"Isn't it just horrible?" On saying goodbye, American pronunciation of leisure, and my last week in Ireland 12/9-12/24

You can tell a lot about a culture when you look at the language used daily. For example, the Irish have more words for drunk than I have fingers.

Getting into the Christmas spirit with Corky!

1. Pissed
2. In the bakes/rats
3. knackered
4. langered
5. loaded
6. twisted
7.scuttered
8. cunted
9. to be off/out of one's head
10. wrecked
11. plastered
12. trolleyed

The week after my Galway weekend was pretty low key full of studying for my upcoming and impossible nutrition test, watching bad Irish TV (Coronation Street, Take Me Out, and Come Dine With Me), and lounging about. Tuesday marked another surf party, this one was much more mellow because many members had tests that week. My friend Kelsey and I party hopped that night going from surfers to her boyfriend's work party at the Leisureplex, which is basically a bowling alley and arcade. We were pretty popular at the work party because according to Irish people American's are all really good at bowling--well I proved them wrong!! After leaving behind the surfers we headed to Cubins, a club. They were charging 8 euro entrance fee so I decided to head home, but on my way out the bouncer told me I could get in for free! Woohoo! I'm so glad it was free because the club was empty bar a few creepy old men. So far I definitely have not had the best luck with dance clubs.

A well-behaved attendee at the Cowpunchers' Ball

Thursday after my impossibly hard nutrition test I headed into town with my friend Jessie to buy a dress for the Cowpunchers' Ball that evening! Yes, you read that correctly--a ball! We started off the afternoon with lots of luck, finding a cheap and beautiful dress in the first store we went too! That only left the shoes. We marched all over the town searching for the perfect pair until we almost ran out of time. Eventually we went back to Penney's and found a sassy pair of magenta heels. The relief was short lived when we waited 45 minutes for the bus. I didn't even have time to straighten my hair before I had to head out for the ball!

The ball was sort of like a mix between prom and a wedding. A big group of food science students (the cowpunchers) and us took a cab over to the hotel where the ball was located. We sat at a table and ate a tasty meal of soup, bread, turkey, ham, potatoes, and a smorgasbord of desserts. After dinner I was too stuffed to move and that's when the dancing started! First a tacky wedding band called "Deuces Wild" played every one's favorites and then a DJ took over. Dancing around was a blast once my stomach shrunk a bit. Highlight? When they play "Rock the Boat" every sits on their butts in a line like they are sitting in a canoe and then pretend to row the boat. It's very weird, but kinda fun!

At the Loch

After all the excitement of the ball and the stress of test, the weekend was pretty uneventful complete with episodes of Father Ted and Home Alone. Father Ted is a comedy from the late '90s about three Irish priests who live on a tiny island and who don't quite fill the image of a priest. Saturday night Ruby, Kristen, and myself crossed town and went to a comedy show at the Craic House! Turns out, amateur comedy is pretty similar no matter what side of the globe you are on!

You can imagine how upset I was when the next morning I woke up feeling sick with a combination fever/cold--my last week in Ireland and I felt like hiding under the covers. Luckily I have amazing friends who came to keep me company and feed me, a student health center that is friendly and understanding, and half of an essay already finished!

I made a pretty quick recovery and was leaving the house by Friday to buy Christmas presents, go on a walking tour of Cork with Cecilia, Shane, Kelsey, and Shane, enjoy the snow, drink some final pints, and say goodbye to friends over hot beverages.

I thought packing and saying goodbye was hard enough, but then the worst thing possible happened. All of my friends went home and I was almost completely physically and emotionally ready to head back to Portland (or as ready as I'd ever be) when my flight home was canceled. Luckily I was able to schedule another flight that would get me home for Christmas Eve, but having the extra, unanticipated days was more emotionally draining than any days I have ever experienced. I could hardly spend any time in my cold and empty apartment that became increasingly more clinical each time I came home. Luckily my friend Cecilia came to the rescue inviting me to spend a couple days out at her family home in Watergrasshill (real name) 25 minutes outside of Cork city.

On a stroll through the snowy Irish countryside

I have never been more grateful for anything in my life. Not only was the thought of spending more time in my half packed, empty apartment bleak, but no one should spend the week before Christmas alone. Her house was warm and cozy and most importantly full and friendly! Her mom made us homemade pizzas and we all snuggled up watching CSI. The next morning we went on a mother-daughter-guest walk through the snowy country and passed by an estate from the 1600s! Other than the old manor, it was exactly how I would have spent the morning if I had been at home.

From Cecilia's house I went directly to the bus station, boarded my bus for Limerick, got a pint, and headed to my Travelodgethe only restaurant nearby) and bad TV. The next morning I said goodbye to Ireland and flew away from one home towards another.

Lep-a-chons, slippy streets, and great craic! Galway 12/3-12/5

Traditional Irish music performed by foreigners

After such an exciting weekend of not surfing, I needed a week to recover and recuperate- something I didn't quite succeed in! Monday was filled with Deal or No Deal, lectures, and a visit from Ruby's parents! Dinner was a blast and started out on a good note when Ruby's parents picked us up and saved us from the long, cold walk into town. We went to a pub called Reidy's where a little old lady runs the bar. Since it was my first and only time eating in a pub I figured I should really Irish it up and ordered Irish stew and a Guinness. After filling our bellies with warm stew we drove down to An Spailpin Fanac where we caught the majority of the UCC Trad Society's weekly session. I just love a good trad session, definitely an experience unlike any other live music performance.

Our boots at the Cliffs of Moher

The next day instead of getting a good night's rest I allowed myself to be convinced by my friend Hannah to go to the Surf Club party. We started out in the New Bar on campus where men with bad mustaches were flocking to celebrate the last day of Movember. Movember is a campaign to raise awareness and funds for prostate cancer research in Ireland. Basically it's an excuse for men to grow horrible mustaches, but at least it's for a good cause! From campus we headed down to Bourbon St. a bar on McCurtain, all the way across town! At the pub we all gathered, schmoozed and listened to some great student performers. When Bourbon St. closed we trooped over to An Brog as usual and danced the night away!

Some great craic in Taaffes

I spent the rest of the week recovering from my surf club induced fun and finally started studying for my microbiology/immunology exam that Friday. Studying for that test was tedious and nerve-wrecking, not only was my hypochondria flaring up but I was struggling to memorize all the information about the million diseases we studied! The test ended up not being as hard I had anticipated, but I also think I got lucky and studied the right stuff!

From the test taking room I headed straight into town and boarded the Citylink bus heading towards Galway to meet up with Emily. The bus ride took longer than usual due to wintry conditions and I wandered lost around Galway for 25 minutes before calling Ruby to ask for directions to the hostel. But it was all worth it when I heard Emily's voice in the hall of Sleepzone (what a great name for the hostel!)

The Cliffs of Moher

First thing we did in Galway was to decide where we would explore that evening. Luckily for us, the Irish are both really helpful and knowledgeable about craic and people who work in hostel are notoriously friendly. So you can imagine how nice the reception workers were! One employee took it upon himself to draw us a map of clubs, pubs, and general areas of interest and then color code them: traditional pub, dance club, late bar, or regular bar. First stop was Taaffes, a traditional Irish pub known for their pint of Guinness. Inside the pub was packed and in the furthest corner four musicians belted out Irish traditional music. The youngest member (looked a bit like McLovin) who was wearing a shirt that said "where's my pint?" in Irish switched from playing the spoons to the uilleann pipes and then even stood up for a little dance number. Basically, no more craic could have fit in that pub!

Yoga at the mini cliffs!

From there we headed to another traditional Irish pub called Tig Cóilí where the atmosphere was a bit more subdued. We bought pints of Guinness and sat next to the musicians to absorb some more trad. Unlike the other group, two members of this trio were not even Irish! One was Canadian and the other a Dane! At midnight when the pub closed we were enticed by some promoters to go into a dance club called "Club K" where half of the 20 people inside were over the age of 40 and definitely should not be dancing the way they were! Hungry after all of our Irish culture we went to McDonald's a bought 2 euro double cheeseburgers and chicken wings for the walk home. Outside of our hostel we ran into a group of Spanish men who, as many Spanish men do, gave us a mild harassing. And that concluded our first night in Galway!

The next morning woke up early, bought breakfast sausage rolls, and boarded a bus for our tour of the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher! The tour lasted all day and was quite the good time, although it had to be modified due to the weather conditions. On the bus we found ourselves reunited and even sitting next to our crude Spanish friends from the night before, who in the light of day were much friendlier and even gave us some potato chips! Our bus driver did the best he could with the conditions telling us lots of fairy stories and what life was like growing up in Galway. We stopped at the Cliffs of Moher, the mini cliffs, Leprechaun head, an O'brien towerhouse, the Burren, and the Ballyalban Fairy Fort!

craic is all about. My Irish friends will argue with me on this, but it seems to me that craic after a night out consists of talking smack in the cold while eating fried food. We met some characters that night and made some realizations about Irish culture upon walking through the late-night crowds at Supermac's. After midnight the Irish cease to be modern humans but revert to pirate culture where drinking, swearing, and random violence become the norms.

Ireland loves Christmas!

We woke up way to early the next morning to check out of the hostel and decided to spend the day exploring Galway city. Most of the morning was spent wandering around town and exploring the Christmas market in Eyre Square. The day passed quickly and suddenly it was time to board the bus back to Cork!

A Weekend of Giving Tanks and Snow on the Beach 11/25-11/28

A Victoria Lodge Thanskgiving!

The weeks between surf Saturday and Thanksgiving passed with out much excitement. I went to a couple trad sessions held by the UCC trad society at An Spailpin Fanac, watched Survivor: Samoa, got my hair cut (it's a little Bonjovi-esque), and watched Munster beat Australia in rugby.

As anyone who knows me will know, Thanksgiving is absolutely my favorite holiday. I mean what's not to like, it's a day dedicated to eating too much tasty food and spending time with family and friends. Honestly, I was a little nervous about how good an Irish Thanksgiving could possibly be especially since I was planning on spending it in Belfast on a trip sponsored by my program. I couldn't help but remember how alienating and uncomfortable the last program trip was and I just couldn't imagine spending my favorite day of the year in a foreign city with people who wouldn't even notice if I wasn't there! So I decided not to go. Instead I signed up for the surf weekend getaway to Dingle and to bring candied carrots and cobbler to my friend Roger's Thanksgiving dinner party.

What a good decision.

Surfboard covered in ice? Not a good sign!

Thanksgiving started off on a weird note, because it was just another Thursday for everyone around me. I went to lectures as usual and kept having to remind myself that it was, in fact, Thanksgiving! After class I trekked up to Tesco and lugged all of my ingredients back to my apartment where my roommate and I were both frantically preparing our dishes. I worked so hard that I got a blister on my finger from cutting and peeling carrots and apples. Pathetic, I know.

Cooking for other people makes me more stressed than almost anything else I can think of. Eventually my dishes were done (late might I add) and I was so flustered that while transporting them downstairs I dropped my phone in the sticky apple portion of the cobbler! Upon arrival I immediately was relieved. Everyone was in such a cheery and relaxed mood (courtesy of a few pre-dinner drinks, I'm sure) and we were each assigned Thanksgiving roles. Parts included: creepy drunk uncle, teens back from college, happy couple, unhappy couple, foreign exchange student etc.

View from the cottage #1

The qualms I had about a lack of good food were immediately put to rest as there was barely room for our plates on the table! Each person had really pulled their weight by bringing a delicious dish including 3 different types of potatoes, stuffing, chicken (turkey is really expensive here), green bean casserole, garlic bread, brownies, cake, and some other things I'm sure. We each piled the food on our plates and began stuffing our faces. Periodically Roger ("the drunk uncle") would call out people to make toasts and say what they were thankful for. When my turn came I was forced to stand on my chair and said, "Even though this has been the least appropriate Thanksgiving dinner (it really had, those boys have got some dirty mouths!), it's definitely been the most memorable." Or something like that. Pretty cheesy, but I'm proud of thinking of it in such a high stress moment!

View from the cottage #2

Once every one's plates were as clear as they were going to get (some people's eyes are much bigger than their stomachs) we clear the table and began the Thanksgiving tradition of a beer pong tournament. Classy evening, I know.

The next day I packed up my backpack and met up with  fellow surf clubbers to head off for the weekend trip on the Dingle Peninsula!  We stood in the parking lot for about an hour before dividing up into cars and heading out. My friend Jessie and I got into a car with two Irish girls, one from Wexford and the other a Cork native, and freshman boy from Waterford. The car ride over was a blast accompanied by two great CD complete with a mix of Disney tunes, hipster songs, and techno. On the way there we stopped at a couple stores to get drink and food for the weekend, Jessie and I definitely did not get enough food.

On the drive through the Alps

After multiple U-turns we eventually arrived at the Inch Beach Cottages where the surf club had booked 4 cottages. Immediately we threw our stuff on a bed, fixed up a sandwich, and started watching the "Late Toy Show" or something. Apparently it's a one night special where this creepy guy in ugly Christmas "jumpers" hosts a TV show for kids to figure out what toys to ask for from Santa. It's pretty funny complete with malfunction toys and awkward interviews with children. In true Irish and surf club form, someone wrote out rules to make the Late Toy Show a drinking game with rules such as "Drink every time a toy breaks" or "down your drink every time the host is wearing a ridiculous jumper." Although it started off a bit awkward since it felt like everyone already knew each other, it ended up being quite fun with the pinnacle being a midnight snow fall!

Hannah and Me

The next day we all woke up, ate whatever we had for lunch, piled on the layers, and heading to the beach for some surfing. The drive to the beach felt like a drive through the Alps so when we got there most of the girls and I decided to go for a walk instead of plunging into the freezing water. It was such a beautiful day that it didn't matter if we got in the water, just being there was good enough for me!

The drive home though was terrifying. I love the Irish, but they drive like lunatics! We went careening around icy and bendy roads in this little tiny car. I was seriously concerned for my safety. Jessie and I even tried to use some passive aggressive "slow down" techniques, but to no avail.

Eventually we made it home safely and Jessie and I devoured the last bit of our food while watching episodes of Friends. Watching Friends with the surf club was great because on of the boys watching looks EXACTLY like Chandler and all the boys who were watching laughed out loud, something that never happens in the States. After a quick nap we all headed up to the main cottage and spent the rest of the night mingling, sledding, mooching food (including curry powder burgers-yum!) and dancing. It was quite a fun day!

Sunday turned out to be pretty mellow consisting mostly of chatting and cleaning. I have never seen a collection of houses as dirty as those four cottages. It was almost remarkable how big of a mess was made! After doing our share of the cleaning Jessie, Hannah, Inna, and myself headed down for a walk on the beach and sandwiches in a tiny restaurant. Once full we loaded up the cars and headed home before the roads froze over again.

What a great weekend!

"If it swells, ride it!" Surf Saturdays and Swedish Cinema

The week after Halloween was mostly spent trying to recovering and floundering to get things done. There's really nothing worse than days where you get absolutely nothing done, whether because you're lazy or things just aren't coming together, it doesn't matter. Adding to feeling guilty about not checking off my to-do list, I was also getting really panicky about how little time I had left in Ireland. The combination of frustration and panic let me to sign up to participate in Surf Saturday, sponsored by the UCC surf club. Guilt and panic will get you to do some pretty crazy things sometimes. So on Wednesday at 1300 I met my friend Jessie and we signed up to surf.

As I walked home from college Friday evening, I had every intention of making myself some dinner and curling up in bed watching a movie. But, as I turned on the hob (what they call the stove) I received a text message from my neighbor inviting me over for dinner with the Swedes and then an evening of jazz. Oh, why not, I thought. Dinner was great. Ian made a tasty pasta dish and garlic bread and we all sat around and chatted. Around 9 we headed into town and I finally asked, so where are we going. Apparently, Mikael had heard of a screening of some Swedish silent film accompanied by a jazz improve group. Maybe I should have realized how weird it would be just from that quick description.

Upon arriving at the pub everything seemed pretty normal, music bumping, drinkings being poured, and the dull roar of chit-chat. We quickly vacated the normal area of the pub and headed upstairs to find seats. The movie started soon enough and then things really started getting weird. The band made groaning noises as the grim reaper crept across the screen. Although, the movie is famous for it's quality special effects the story was a little bit too creepy for my liking. As the band played the plot was unveiled. According to a Swedish legend, the last person to die each year, instead of going to heaven/hell, is forced to become the grim reaper for the entire rest of the year. This as you can imagine, isn't very pleasant. Neither was watching it.

Maybe I'm just not artistically minded enough, but when at one point a techie bumped the computer and the DVD player read "1:40:27" remaining I about had a heart attack. How was I going to get out of this living artsy hell? About 5 minutes passed (slowly) when the bass player in the band got up and left the room. Well if he can leave, then I definitely can! And so I did. Outside I ran into a friend of mine and we got a pint in Preacher's, a pub known for it's classic rock playlists. Heck, I'd take drunk Irish boys dancing to ACDC over freaky Swedish silent movies any day of the week!

Garretstown Beach on a much sunnier day!

Surf Saturday 11/13. Proof that no one looks good in a hood

The next morning I woke up, packed my backpack, and headed off to Garretstown near Kinsale for my first surfing lesson. Like all Irish boys, our surfing instructor's name was Shane. My lesson group consisted of all female UCC students who were equally nervous about plunging into the cold water over and over again while attempting to stand on a foam surf board and so we took baby steps. First? We splashed around in the water and practiced catching waves like on a boogie board, spreading our arms like an airplane, and steering the board left and right. But then it was time to actually learn how to surf. It's definitely a skill that one has to develop. I took many impressive tumbles and Shane told me I might have a career as a knee-boarder! I did stand up for maybe a nanosecond, something I bragged about throughout the whole car ride home.

Although, I wasn't the most successful surfer and it was colder than cold, it was really a blast to get to know some Irish students, get out of Cork for a bit, and just play at the beach! When I got home late that afternoon exhaustion and cold took hold and I didn't leave my bed except to make the soup I had planned for the night before!

Despite being miserably cold and ingesting a serious amount of salt water, I enjoyed my first Surf Saturday enough to sign up again the next week, this time with my Swedish friend, Hannah. I knew it was going to be a good day when during the time we waited for the cars to load I had laughed more than I had all week. This week the lesson group was made up of different UCC students, one of which was named Ian who hails from Belgium. He's the kind of guy who laughs loudly at his own jokes, but his laugh is so great that it makes everyone else laugh too. Trying to be smart (at 8:30 am, never a good idea) the following embarrassing interaction occurred:

Ditzy American celebrating a successful day of surfing

A: "Oh, you're from Belgium? My roommate is Belgian!"
I: "Really? What language does she speak?"
A: (trying to sound smart) "Belgian...not Flemmish."
I: "Um. Neither of those are languages."
A: "Shit! I meant French, she speaks French. But I thought Flemmish was a language?"
I: "Actually it's a dialect and region. Good try though!"

I tried to laugh it off, claiming that my brain doesn't function in the AM, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. Flustered I tried to climb into the car and get a back seat so I wouldn't have to awkwardly sit shotgun

Silly surfers eating latte foam with their fingers!

The whole day lived up to every expectation. I stood up on my board multiple times (and each time for more than 5 seconds!), made some new friends, listened to bad music ("Whip My Hair" being the tune of choice) and laughed more than I thought would be possible under such harsh conditions! I spent the rest of the day thawing, but unlike the previous Saturday I rallied for a wild night out at Crane Lane.

Because the I couldn't imagine a third Saturday of waking up early to freeze my butt off, I took a two week long surfing hiatus to prepare myself mentally and physically for the big surf weekend trip to Dingle, but that adventure deserves a post of its own!

"Do you REALLY want me to explain what the shift is?" And other adventures from Halloween in Cork

Weather in Ireland (photos courtesy of Kate!)

If I thought Halloween was wild at the Claremont Colleges, it pales in comparison to the week of Halloween festivities at UCC. The week leading up to it was pretty average with the weekly taco Tuesday ritual, Glee watching, and worrying about what I would dress up as for the many nights of Halloween. I knew the weekend was going to be great craic when I headed out to Cork International Airport to pick up Ms. Kate!

Although a Thursday evening at the airport doesn't sound like the best way to spend the first night of the weekend, let me tell you it is just wonderful! The next time you just want to slap everyone around you for walking slowly/using the incorrect "there"/being rude/when you have lost complete faith in humanity just go to the arrivals gate at any airport. Watching people meet their friends and relatives at the airport is the most touching activity I can possibly imagine, like watching the happy ending of a romantic comedy over and over again.

At the Distillery

After 45 minutes of tearing up every time a plane arrived my little Kate turned the corner and our adventures began! We hopped into a cab, dropped her stuff at Vic Lodge, put together some impromptu lumberjack costumes, and headed into town because the Irish students usually go home over the weekend and I wanted Kate to get the real taste of Cork. But because it was Halloween it was the real taste of Cork covered in tabasco sauce and chili powder-just craziness to put it into non-food terms.

We got into town and met up with some Irish friends and wandered around trying to find a pub that didn't have a 30 minute wait to get in because just like in the United States Halloween costumes typically are not very warm! As we trudged through the mist we saw a couple people fall on the ground, one fight get broken up with one individual getting arrested, and hoards of students having entirely too much fun in mildly inappropriate clothes! It was an experience to say the least!

Proof that we are official taste-testers!

The next day we woke up late and explored Cork city. I didn't realize how much fun it would be to show someone around and explain all the boring things I do, like walking to school, for example. We walked through campus and headed to the city center for some English Marketing and lunch at the Wholly Grain. Very delicious. That evening we donned our costumes for an almost American-themed Halloween party at my neighbor's apartment. It might have been less extreme than Thursday, but was still a pretty good time.

On Saturday morning we headed off to fulfill our roles as tourists and took the train to the Jameson Distillery in Midleton. Midleton is a fairly unexciting town especially in the end of October. The Distillery tour guide, a very robotic woman with a mix between a French and Irish accent, taught us all about the history of Jameson and why it is just that much better than every other whiskey. The most exciting bit was that at the end 8 tour members volunteered to be whiskey taste-testers and put our new knowledge to the test. Kate and I sat at the tester table and made smalltalk with the rather eclectic group of volunteers. Jameson definitely tasted the best out of the three, but I still don't understand how people drink it straight!

Ninjas eating Tasty Kebab

From Jameson we stopped in at this little Italian restaurant where we ate a very delicious meal before boarding the train home with everyone from our tour. Awkward stuff. Apparently our new found friendships were limited to the Distillery. At home we crafted another Halloween costume, this time we were ninjas in all black with black pantyhose headbands. Not my best work, but pretty good under the circumstances! In town we went to the Bailey and finished up the night at Tasty Kebab. Seriously yum.

Sunday we woke up exhausted, but rallied and went up to Tesco because that afternoon was my mom style Halloween party! We spent the afternoon slaving over cookies, cider, frosting, and getting the place ready to go. It turned out to be quite a good time with about 15 girls coming over, some of which brought food too, so we had quite the feast! With our bellies full and exhausted from playing hostess, we cleaned up and watched Spiderman on TV.

The next morning I had to say goodbye to my little Kate and head off to nutrition class. Overall, we did Halloween in style!

The essence of a Swedish dinner