Weekend Number One

At 10am on Friday morning, orientation began. It was packed with short speeches from various advisers, professors and student-leaders. There was a lot of information at once, but it was nice to meet other students and get the program started. From across the room, I recognized Carly Cavanaugh, and was extremely surprised to have some one from West Side in Cork! I sat behind her during the rest of the morning. We registered as students during the "light lunch" -sandwiches and water- had a tour and then left to get ready for the evening.
Friday night, two other literature students I met during orientation, Michelle and Mary, walked back over to campus with me in order to meet others for the Gaelic football game. There was a much larger group of us than expected and it took nearly an hour to walk to the stadium. Nevertheless, it proved to be a pleasant walk with very quaint scenery of small, colorful houses and gardens. Each section of the city and its outskirts definitely has a different atmosphere. The fans were quite loyal to their players, as in any country; they cheered, sang, stood up anxiously, clapped and waved their green, red and white scarves with fervor. In general, the Irish appear to have no qualms about using words thought to be the most offensive in America. Informally, they use the f word in many sentences, but it's so nonchalant and fluid as if it's merely saying "wicked." Our male tour guide realized the difference in word usage when he dropped the c word while telling a story and everyone got rather quiet; the entire group was female. Anyway, I didn't mean to get too far off topic. The game was a lot of fun, but cold. I regret leaving my wool coat behind and will have to invest in a heavier sweater or two. We (Cork City Football Club) won, defeating Kerry 4-0. After the match, more than half of the group went to a club called The Qube (Cube). On Friday nights, the International Student Association has set up a deal where students get free admission and one drink. One drink being a pint, an Irish pint meaning in America that'd equal 20oz. Needless to say they're rather large. It was fun meeting more students in a relaxed atmosphere; yet the ear-wrenching karaoke made the environment not at all conducive to conversation. It was a bizarre melange of music, including some songs I didn't recognize, but that was expected.
Saturday morning, Michelle, Mary and I ventured to Cork City Center to find the Crawford Art Gallery. It was a small, but nice collection of art encompassing both the old and the new; paintings from W.B. Yeats' brother, "There, Not There:" an exhibition of modern Irish paintings, Harry Clarke stained glass and a sculpture room that was far too overcrowded. There was also a room set in the style of an 18th century Irish home; I love looking at antique furniture, books and china.
After the museum, we set about exploring more of the city and found two trivial but funny differences between America and Ireland. In a local bookshop, I found a copy of "Where's Waldo," only to find here, he's referred to as Wally. Secondly, there's a huge T.K. Maxx in the city center, which is the exact same store as our T.J. Maxx. We bought food in the English Market, which is just as excellence as I had anticipated. It's an indoor market brimming with smaller stands and shops; just about any food item you could want was there, as well as many I wouldn't go near... There were surprisingly many organic and vegetarian foods, but got to be rather pricey, and I only bought staples as it was the first of many visits to come. It's also the only place I could manage to find hangars for my closet! Saturday evening I was exhausted and opted to spend that calmly inside.
Sunday afternoon, the same two girls and I walked to Fitzgerald Park, for it was a gorgeous day. The park itself is wonderful; I'll gladly post the pictures at first chance. It's located on the edge of the River Lee, has a beautiful fountain and a quite interesting tree covered in small pieces of mirrors. The effect is bizarrely striking-appearing to be a disco ball misplaced in an organic landscape. We crossed the river on a modernly designed footbridge into unknown territory. The trees formed a canopy over the footpath and there were many people out for walks with dogs or friends. Back across the river, it had begun to rain slightly and we decided to make our way back to the apartments; this walk, evidently feeling much longer than the leisurely, dry stroll to the park. At five o'clock-or twenty past, as we were late-on Sunday evening, Michelle and I went to meet Brandon at his hotel in the city center. Brandon and I worked together this summer for JHU and happened to discover we'd be in Ireland at the same time. Unfortunately, he was simply on a ten day family vacation so we had only the one night to visit. It was great, nevertheless, and we enjoyed a delicious dinner and walk. We brought him over to the UCC campus and he was as impressed as we were on our first viewing. The campus is so very striking.
Monday was the first day of classes, ours beginning at 9:30 am. It was simply an introduction and a run through of the syllabus and planned field trips. Daily we shall have merely 2 hours of class, always broken up with a half-hour coffee break in the middle. In Ireland, I've quickly learned, they appear much more laid back in the teaching style, but they expect you to have the work finished on your own. That afternoon, we visited the Crawford Art Gallery with our class, Michelle, Mary and I for the second time. Yet we discovered another floor we had missed! After viewing the gallery, we had a fabulous and far too filling three course meal at Luigi Malone's. I ordered the garlic baguette, three bean cassoulet and profiteroles (similar to cream puffs) for dessert.
Today, we had our first actual lecture, which was interesting. Mary Breen began with a background on the author, Elizabeth Bowen, and then began with a comparison of the first and last paragraph-yes, last paragraph. Monday, upon a fellow student inquiring about the length of the first reading assignment, our professor answered with, "Oh just get started with the book." Apparently, here that translates to read it all or have the ending ruined. This upset me, but I'm trying not to care, as the book, The Last September, is really good and engaging nonetheless. I've still only managed to get through half, but I feel I'll be safe, as tomorrow is our library tour and she passed out a short story to discuss as well. After class today, I went with a few other from our class to the Glucksman Art Gallery on campus to listen to a curatorial tour of the exhibition "Bookish: When Books Become Art." It was fascinating and I'm glad I opted to attend. I'm still adjusting to the time difference; I feel tired most of the time, which is bad because I took a two-hour nap this afternoon and now it's 1am. I have to be up at 8 for my 9:30 am class. (It takes 20 minutes to walk to school.) I think I'll read and try to fall asleep.