Over the past two weeks or so I've somewhat neglected this blog, but that's only because I've been rather busy.
Monday 15 September, I went to see Waiting for Godot with my class, and it was very good. I studied the play in my Existentialism course last fall, so I was especially excited to see it live. The actors were perfect, as they should be, for they've been playing the same parts for over twenty years, which adds another level to their wait...
The next day, we left for Inis Meain, which was an amazing experience. On the way, we stopped for lunch in Coole Park, once home of Lady Gregory and inspiration to Yeats. Michelle read his poetry as we wandered through the words, but I must say, his words don't appeal to me as much as other poets. He was obviously immensly talented, but I like others better. The park, however, was beautiful, but we didn't see any wild swans. Swans are to Ireland as Geese are to America; it's weird to see those white elegant birds as often as pigeons or sea gulls. Yet the magpies sound like pterodactyls....Or maybe the screeching comes from those other black birds that hide in the trees of campus. It's hard to tell, they are in the trees afterall.
My time spent on Inis Meain will be hard to rival. I wandered through the low stone walls scratching at my notebook. The entire island was covered in limestone: stone walls, stony beaches, ancient stone forts, stone cliffs. I was dissapointed by the amenities, as I was told it would be "uncivilized." It was far more civilized than I had hoped, but I shouldn't complain because the bed and breakfast was very cozy. I just thought I'd escape for a while, but it wasn't as far off as I had pre-supposed.
After the island trip, Michelle, Mary and I stayed on in Galway. Sarah, Eowyn and Sussanna were there too. We had a traditional Irish dinner on our first night. Michelle, Mary and I ventured to Sligo the next day, specifically to Drumcliffe to see Yeats' grave. We also went to Carrowmore, a Megalithic burial tomb site. It was really interesting, and reminded me of the Rick Steves DVD I watched with Mom and Nonnie before leaving for Ireland. So I pretended to be Nick Steves instead and gave my friends a tour while fabricating stories about the ancient people. But alas I did not have a fanny pack!
Back in Galway, we ran into a really neat market on Saturday morning, where I purchased a few gifts for people back home. There was also an amazing crepe stand.
I'm currently dividing my time between finishing my papers for my early start course and beginning work on my autumn semester courses. I've only had Latin and Jazz so far. I'm absolutely in love with Latin; I really enjoy going to the class and doing the translation homework. Learning new languages is fun and Latin is so similar to French, which is exciting! I'm slightly worried that I'm in over my head in the jazz ensemble. I practiced my part on piano for 2.5 hours on Friday and it's not quite there yet. Also, I didn't end up going to the music department this weekend to practice, but I will be going everyday until that ensemble meets again on Thursday! Plus my Early Music Ensemble begins on Wednesday...I hope playing in two ensembles isn't too much to practice.
As of right now my schedule stands as: Latin, 18th Century Literature, Critical Literary Theory, Early Music and Jazz Ensemble. This doesn't seem like much, but I already got credit for 2 courses from the early start semester and I can't go over 18 credits in total. I'm also going to audit a course called The Classical Tradition which studies literature, art and architecture that is rooted in the classics. I want to sit in on a French language course so I don't loose that. I wasn't too thrilled to learn I couldn't take French for credit, but if I were taking it, I wouldn't be learning Latin!
I've officially booked two weekend trips. In mid October, after our Early Start Semester in Irish Literature final exam, Michelle and I are off to Paris. Then around 13 November, Michelle, Mary, Sarah and I are going to Milan, which I'm really excited for because I haven't been there.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Cycling in Killarney
I've officially decided that the best money I've ever spent was 12.50 euro to rent a bike in Killarney. It was the most glorious day. Sarah, Eowyn and I set out on the bikes around 9:30 am while it was slightly raining. Once we were on the main road it was no longer slightly raining, but pouring. I had my hooded raincoat on, but my face and hands were drenched and cold. On the bus ride home from Killarney, I wrote the following about my day.
The views in Killarney National Park are simply amazing; I have never seen anything so beautiful. Standing at the edge of the lake, I stared in awe at the deep-green hills beyond. Instead of snow-capped mountains, these were fog-capped. Everything looked so pure, undisturbed, organic; the fallen tree isn't carried away, but rather completely covered in the thickest moss.
Prior to arriving at the park, regret swam throiugh my mind. As I repeatedly blinked my eyes to see through the blinding rain, I began to wish I hadn't rented the bike. Riding into the rain, I could no longer distinguish between water and snot on my saturated visage. Upon entering the park, however, the thick canopy of leaves above helped to assuage the desperately falling rain. Elated to be cycling amongst such beauty, my mind forgot about my body's complaints for a while. My biggest worry became my camera, as it nestled in a zippered pocket of my rain jacket; I hoped the coat's waterproofing was sufficient to guard it from Ireland's moisture. She held up well and captured the sights of vast lakes, rocky hills, mossy trees.
A blonde-curly child with a pink puffing face blocked the path with her whining, forcing me to dismount and run my bike up the hill. Families with young ones should stick to easier routes. In these woods so thick, I could live and go unnoticed, if I could manage to stay clear of heavily-passed trails.
Resting in a cottage-turned cafe for afternoon tea, I eavesdropped on the family near by. Telling her two young daughters they will go eat outside, a mother is met with the reply, "But I want to stay in here!" The elder daughter, in all her seven-yeared-wisdom, changes sister's mind with just one phrase: "But if we eat outside, we can have a look at the world!" And what a world it'd be if she were covered with the lakes and lands of Killarney.
My muscles feel the stress of the day's bike ride, but my mind couldn't be more satisfied, renewed, at ease. Killarney gagne le medaille d'or, selon moi. Today my company was lovely, but had I been alone and with no watch's ticking stress, I would have laid in the grass at the lake's glassy edge. Perhaps if I were still and slept like Van Winkle, nature would give me a blanket of moss to warm after the setting of the sun. Forever I'd spend cycling through Killarney National Park, if only I had time to spare. Never have I been fond of countryside or rural quiet until Ireland. I think it's because hills in the states aren't pocketed with sheep. Parks at home are not comparable to Killarney's peace.
The views in Killarney National Park are simply amazing; I have never seen anything so beautiful. Standing at the edge of the lake, I stared in awe at the deep-green hills beyond. Instead of snow-capped mountains, these were fog-capped. Everything looked so pure, undisturbed, organic; the fallen tree isn't carried away, but rather completely covered in the thickest moss.
Prior to arriving at the park, regret swam throiugh my mind. As I repeatedly blinked my eyes to see through the blinding rain, I began to wish I hadn't rented the bike. Riding into the rain, I could no longer distinguish between water and snot on my saturated visage. Upon entering the park, however, the thick canopy of leaves above helped to assuage the desperately falling rain. Elated to be cycling amongst such beauty, my mind forgot about my body's complaints for a while. My biggest worry became my camera, as it nestled in a zippered pocket of my rain jacket; I hoped the coat's waterproofing was sufficient to guard it from Ireland's moisture. She held up well and captured the sights of vast lakes, rocky hills, mossy trees.
A blonde-curly child with a pink puffing face blocked the path with her whining, forcing me to dismount and run my bike up the hill. Families with young ones should stick to easier routes. In these woods so thick, I could live and go unnoticed, if I could manage to stay clear of heavily-passed trails.
Resting in a cottage-turned cafe for afternoon tea, I eavesdropped on the family near by. Telling her two young daughters they will go eat outside, a mother is met with the reply, "But I want to stay in here!" The elder daughter, in all her seven-yeared-wisdom, changes sister's mind with just one phrase: "But if we eat outside, we can have a look at the world!" And what a world it'd be if she were covered with the lakes and lands of Killarney.
My muscles feel the stress of the day's bike ride, but my mind couldn't be more satisfied, renewed, at ease. Killarney gagne le medaille d'or, selon moi. Today my company was lovely, but had I been alone and with no watch's ticking stress, I would have laid in the grass at the lake's glassy edge. Perhaps if I were still and slept like Van Winkle, nature would give me a blanket of moss to warm after the setting of the sun. Forever I'd spend cycling through Killarney National Park, if only I had time to spare. Never have I been fond of countryside or rural quiet until Ireland. I think it's because hills in the states aren't pocketed with sheep. Parks at home are not comparable to Killarney's peace.
Riverdance
Friday evening, our class met at Gaol Cross to board the bus to Killarney. I barely got through a few pages of The Aran Islands as the country scenery captured my attention. The reason we went to Killarney was to see Riverdance; I never thought I'd actually go see that show, especially in Ireland. My Irish writing professor thought the same, and told us how she was dragged to see it, but was surprised by how much she liked it. Telling us the story, she said it wasn't "high art" or anything like that, but was amazed at the "athleticism of the dancers." And it's true; they can jump so high and move their feet so quickly. It was supposed to follow a sort of Irish history. The first half was all traditional Irish dancing, but they didn't have curly wigs! There was a kind of story line based on mythology for the first part, but there was no point in trying to make sense of a story. After intermission, it moved on to dances about the famine and then emigration, which was when it got good. I'm probably biased, however, because this is when the soprano saxophonist was featured. They arrived in America and there were two African-American tap dancers accompagnied by the aforementioned musician playing jazz. Around this same time a man with a beautiful voice had a solo song about immigrants. He was my favorite. The Russian dancers were pretty cool too; they jumped really high and did the splits in the air. There was a dance off between the tappers and a few male Irish steppers and the male lead. It was funny because the tap dancers kept mocking the lead, and he deserved it.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Barrscourt Castle, Bowen's Court Ruins, Fota House: Photos
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This is inside the kitchen of Barryscourt Castle..jpg)
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Here is our tour guide inside the dining room
at Barryscourt.
Here I am under an arch made only of trees. The castle had beautiful gardens and an apple orchard.
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These are my friends Michelle and Mary.
Here are the photos of all that remains of Elizabeth Bowen's family home, Bowen's Court.
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This is Fota House, which was once a hunting lodge. Can you imagine this being your summer home?
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The back of Fota House
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Just the front yard...
A green house in the extensive gardens
These are all my photos from Ireland so far; I used a disposable camera, for as you know, my camera broke. However I bought a new one today and look forward to documenting Killarney, The Aran Islands, and where ever else I find myself!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
What I've been doing on Monday nights...
On Monday nights, I've been going to poetry readings/ open mic sessions here in Cork. They record the guest reader and the open mic portions of the evenings. You can listen to the mp3 of my reading online. It's not great because I didn't plan to bring anything, but I read two poems from memory. This is from their website:
pc Said: @10:33 pm
Open-mic night - 1st September 2008 We had yet another great turnout on Monday for Knute Skinner, who delighted all with a variety of verse from his 50-year canon of exceptional poesy. Thanks Knute. You can listen to Knute’s reading here.
Thanks to all on the open-mic, Jennifer Matthews, Nichole LeFebvre, Matthew Sweeney, Mary O’Sullivan, Bríd Buckley, Seamus Harrington, Patricia Walsh, Niall Herriott, Eugene Crowley, Dean Coady, Pat Cotter, Bairbre Flood, Bryan McElroy, Daw Harding, Kate McGrew, Brian Ó Murcada and Alan Titley.
The poetry challenge was won by Michelle, on her first attempt. Well Done!
The open-mic mp3 is here.
09/4/08; 10:33 pm
Detour to Dublin
After class finished on Friday, Michelle and I rushed back to the dorms to pack while Mary headed to the computer lab to print our e-tickets for the bus. With umbrellas in hand and massive backpacks soaking up the rain, we met Mary and Sarah for lunch at Kiwi Cafe. This has quickly become our favourite spot for lunch, as the prices are good and the portions are big. (And yes I meant to spell favorite that way.) Lingering after our meal, we attempted to let the rain pass us by. Once we realized that was a fantasy, we headed off to the bus station and said goodbye to Sarah.
The bus ride to Dublin was not bad at all. It took four hours, but we stopped half way through to get food and to use the toilets. Upon our arrival in Dublin, we had to find the city bus to take to University College, Dublin, and ended up waiting at the wrong stop for 15 minutes. Nevertheless, we got on the correct bus and actually ended up arriving at UCD right as Michelle's friend Charlotte came outside to meet us. Thankfully we didn't have to book (or pay for) a hostel, as Charlotte let us crash on her couches. The first night, we hung out with Charlotte, her two German friends, and the two Irish guys living below her. I told one of the guys that I could sing a German song, and as I started singing it, he joined in. I laughed and he said all children learn that song. It must be similar to our Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
Saturday we went into city centre around half noon and took the advice of Charlotte's Irish neighbor to try Captain America's for lunch. He said it was really good American food. I really only wanted a bagel and tea, but didn't want to be picky and agreed to eat there. Unfortunately, his idea of good food is quite different from ours. The prices were terrible and the food was worse. I could barely find the noodles in my vegetarian lasagna. Searching through the cheese was like an archaeological dig. After that disapointment, we wandered around the city and decided to go in to the National Museum. We toured the Archaeology Museum and then went to the Art Galleries. Both were really nice. The art museum was a lot more extensive than the one we have here in Cork. Next we saw Trinity College. (Photos courtesy of Michelle Hicks!)
Here I am at Trinity:
Unfortunately, the college looked more like a castle than Dublin Castle which was our next stop.
Only the middle section actually resembled a castle. The couple in the bottom right hand corner of this photo were not shy at all.... They looked about fourteen.
We found a really cute little park across from the "castle." It had these cool thin walkways in circles and spirals around the grass
. So, of course, we followed them and were quite amused for a while.
That's Mary, Charlotte and me.
After sight seeing, we were all exhausted and decided to head back to the dorms for a nap. We bought some baguettes and apples to eat for a light dinner. Once we woke up, we got dressed and ready to go out. We headed over to another apartment were there were other Americans, friends of Charlotte. After meeting everyone, we took the bus into city centre and went to a few different pubs. At one club, we danced for a while, but the music they played to "dance" to was quite bizarre. Who dances to System of a Down? Sunday we repacked our bags and said goodbye. We walked into a cafe which had amazing food. Lesson learned: when in a new city, do not take the advice of a new aquaintance. Rather, walk into a random restaurant and enjoy! And enjoy we did. I had amazing crepes with syrup, sliced bananas and whipped cream. After the meal, we went to the bus station to wait for our ride home. Shelly would have died....There were pigeons inside the station.
The Irish Cinema portion of our class began on Monday and finished today on Wednesday. I thoroughly enjoyed all three of the films, "I Went Down," "About Adam," and "Adam and Paul." The last one reminded me of Requiem for a Dream meets Waiting for Godot. During the discussion after the film, I said it was very similar to Beckett's Waiting for Godot in the sense that one character represented the mind and one the body. I said a little more about it, and the professor asked me if I had been reading his work about the film... I said No, and told him I studied the play in my Existentialism course. I wonder if he really thought I read his articles or if it was supposed to be a complement.
Tomorrow we are discussing Beckett's Murphy, Friday we are working on Synge's The Aran Islands and Friday night we are going to see Riverdance in Killarney. Michelle, Mary and I are staying over night in Killarney and seeing the Ring of Kerry. I think we are going to rent bikes and go to the park. Monday night we are going to see Waiting for Godot and Tuesday we are off to Inis Meain! The Early Start Semester is flying by. I can't believe it's almost time for the fall semester to begin.
Oh and I almost forgot to mention I'm sick. It's really aggravating. I really need to be healthy for my stay on Inish Meain. It's going to be rather cold there. I've been taking Sudafed, vitamin C and sucking on Halls lozenges.
More slight differences:
flavour, favourite
half nine = nine thirty
Can I steal the sauce? (A man at another table said this to us at lunch. Sauce is ketchup.)
Cheers. (When I said sure and handed him the bottle, he said cheers. They say it a lot. I suppose it's like thanks.)
Wellies = rain boots
The bus ride to Dublin was not bad at all. It took four hours, but we stopped half way through to get food and to use the toilets. Upon our arrival in Dublin, we had to find the city bus to take to University College, Dublin, and ended up waiting at the wrong stop for 15 minutes. Nevertheless, we got on the correct bus and actually ended up arriving at UCD right as Michelle's friend Charlotte came outside to meet us. Thankfully we didn't have to book (or pay for) a hostel, as Charlotte let us crash on her couches. The first night, we hung out with Charlotte, her two German friends, and the two Irish guys living below her. I told one of the guys that I could sing a German song, and as I started singing it, he joined in. I laughed and he said all children learn that song. It must be similar to our Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
Saturday we went into city centre around half noon and took the advice of Charlotte's Irish neighbor to try Captain America's for lunch. He said it was really good American food. I really only wanted a bagel and tea, but didn't want to be picky and agreed to eat there. Unfortunately, his idea of good food is quite different from ours. The prices were terrible and the food was worse. I could barely find the noodles in my vegetarian lasagna. Searching through the cheese was like an archaeological dig. After that disapointment, we wandered around the city and decided to go in to the National Museum. We toured the Archaeology Museum and then went to the Art Galleries. Both were really nice. The art museum was a lot more extensive than the one we have here in Cork. Next we saw Trinity College. (Photos courtesy of Michelle Hicks!)
Here I am at Trinity:
The Book of Kells is housed there, but we didn't go see it because it costs 8 euro and it's on display so you can only see two pages.
Unfortunately, the college looked more like a castle than Dublin Castle which was our next stop.
Only the middle section actually resembled a castle. The couple in the bottom right hand corner of this photo were not shy at all.... They looked about fourteen.
We found a really cute little park across from the "castle." It had these cool thin walkways in circles and spirals around the grass
. So, of course, we followed them and were quite amused for a while.That's Mary, Charlotte and me.
After sight seeing, we were all exhausted and decided to head back to the dorms for a nap. We bought some baguettes and apples to eat for a light dinner. Once we woke up, we got dressed and ready to go out. We headed over to another apartment were there were other Americans, friends of Charlotte. After meeting everyone, we took the bus into city centre and went to a few different pubs. At one club, we danced for a while, but the music they played to "dance" to was quite bizarre. Who dances to System of a Down? Sunday we repacked our bags and said goodbye. We walked into a cafe which had amazing food. Lesson learned: when in a new city, do not take the advice of a new aquaintance. Rather, walk into a random restaurant and enjoy! And enjoy we did. I had amazing crepes with syrup, sliced bananas and whipped cream. After the meal, we went to the bus station to wait for our ride home. Shelly would have died....There were pigeons inside the station.
The Irish Cinema portion of our class began on Monday and finished today on Wednesday. I thoroughly enjoyed all three of the films, "I Went Down," "About Adam," and "Adam and Paul." The last one reminded me of Requiem for a Dream meets Waiting for Godot. During the discussion after the film, I said it was very similar to Beckett's Waiting for Godot in the sense that one character represented the mind and one the body. I said a little more about it, and the professor asked me if I had been reading his work about the film... I said No, and told him I studied the play in my Existentialism course. I wonder if he really thought I read his articles or if it was supposed to be a complement.
Tomorrow we are discussing Beckett's Murphy, Friday we are working on Synge's The Aran Islands and Friday night we are going to see Riverdance in Killarney. Michelle, Mary and I are staying over night in Killarney and seeing the Ring of Kerry. I think we are going to rent bikes and go to the park. Monday night we are going to see Waiting for Godot and Tuesday we are off to Inis Meain! The Early Start Semester is flying by. I can't believe it's almost time for the fall semester to begin.
Oh and I almost forgot to mention I'm sick. It's really aggravating. I really need to be healthy for my stay on Inish Meain. It's going to be rather cold there. I've been taking Sudafed, vitamin C and sucking on Halls lozenges.
More slight differences:
flavour, favourite
half nine = nine thirty
Can I steal the sauce? (A man at another table said this to us at lunch. Sauce is ketchup.)
Cheers. (When I said sure and handed him the bottle, he said cheers. They say it a lot. I suppose it's like thanks.)
Wellies = rain boots
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
As August Ends
The second weekend here in Cork was fantastic. Friday night, we got home from the field trip around 9. We quickly changed and made it in time to The Qube for free admission. Michelle, Sarah and I had a great time dancing. Sarah, thankfully, acted as our body guard and warded away creepy men for the majority of the night.
Saturday, Mary, Michelle and I rose early in order to travel to Kinsale, a town in West Cork with a beautiful harbor. Upon arrival, we marveled at the sailboats in the water; the harbor was surrounded by green hills dotted with colorful houses. We went into the tourism office to get directions and post cards; then we began our walk through the city. There were a lot of neat little shops and the most adorable puppies in the pet store.... We shouldn't have gone in there. Getting hungry, we opted to take the advice of a classmate and ate at "Fishy, Fishy" a restaurant that, despite sounding like a kids place, was rather upscale and somewhat of a stretch for our budget. However, the prices were definitely reasonable for the quality and quantity of food. Besides, thinking ahead, we had packed lunches that we instead ate for dinner. I had a delicious salad with avocado, chickpeas, cucumbers, and two varieties of potato. Instead of having a potato side dish, we've noticed their meals often include two to three types of potatoes. (One of the poets who read last night actually had a line about this...) My dish had two variations and my friends both ordered fish and chips; thus they had a third kind. There were potato wedges lining my salad bowl and "crisped" potatoes acting in lieu of croûtons inside the salad; these were delicious, less crunchy and slightly thicker than potato chips. Apparently the restaurant where we ate is really well known, and the entire city is the "gourmet capital" of Ireland.
After lunch, we walked up the hill to Desmond Castle and joined a tour that had just begun. The castle was built to be used as a custom house in 1500, but has had a range of uses throughout its history, including acting as a prison for American sailors during our Revolutionary War. Furthermore, it is now also the site of the International Museum of Wine, which to our dismay, does not have tastings, because of the steep, uneven steps. The tour guide was too long-winded and kept promising he was almost done, but something always reminded him of an additional story. Reading the displays on my own would probably have been more interesting and informative. Nevertheless, it was an interesting site and I'm glad we saw it. On the second floor, there was an outdoor landing-type room where there was a well carved into the stone and hill below. A prisoner from Boston was held captive in that well during the Revolution. In the corner of the courtyard/room, I noticed a green tarp hanging but not fully covering an entrance to what appeared to be a tower. As I was curious, I moved the tarp aside to see if there was a stair case. I wasn't going to ascend it; I just wanted to see if it was indeed a tower. However, much to my shock and fright, something batted its wings far too close to my head and I yelled and bolted from the tarp. Apparently sea gulls roost in that tower, which is why they've covered it with a tarp....I think it needs something else to look more obviously off-limits. Thankfully no one else was on the landing except for my friends and one older couple. We were beginning to feel the exhaustion from the previous late night coupled with waking up too early and went off to find a cafe. After their coffee and my tea, we felt refreshed and continued looking in the shops until it was time to board the bus back to Cork.
Sunday I had planned to watch the last stage of the Tour of Ireland, as it took place in Cork City. Mark Cavendish, a US cyclist who won four stages in the Tour de France was riding in it. However, I was really tired and thankfully my friends were too; we all decided to just have a relaxing Sunday in doors. I ended up spending far too much time on my computer, as I became obsessed with reading study tips for the GRE and looking for opportunities for a spring internship. I found a few interesting publishing internships, but I'm really wary of working for a big firm after my experience with Universal Music Group. Preferably, I want to be a Research Assistant and emailed my Co-op and Career Services adviser asking if she's heard of any positions. It'd be amazing to work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the NYPL; the rare books division would be really interesting. Yet I digress once more.
In class on Monday, we began discussing Samuel Beckett's Murphy, which I really enjoy reading. We also received two old Irish poems in translation to read for the next class. That evening, Michelle, Mary and I went to a poetry reading in city center at the Hayloft, a small pub located in a room over a pub. It was amazing and I'm definitely going back next week. Considering I thought we were just going to hear one poet's reading, it exceeding all expectations. When we arrived, it was somewhat empty; we felt out of place and clearly looked out of place amongst the locals. Soon, however, the place began to fill in and the man in charge explained how the evenings consist of three parts: an opening exercise/competition, the guest reader and an open mic night. This was a surprise to us, but we were glad to participate! He asked for five words from the audience, and various people replied with rumble, flavor, light, hand and poke. After 15 minutes of writing, he asked for people to read. Michelle and I both did, along with many others. She ended up winning!
I like part of the poem I wrote in the quick challenge.
After a sojourn at the shore
your light hand grew tan,
gaining red flavor from late
summer's greedy sun.
While I instead
paled in Ireland.
The guest poet, Knute Skinner, is from the states, but has lived in Ireland since the 60s. I really enjoyed his poetry. Surprisingly I realized I knew a few of my poems by heart, and decided to read at the open mic portion. We were the youngest ones there, but everyone was really welcoming; the range in age from college students to men in their 70s made for a good mix of backgrounds and styles.
I did not enjoy the lecture today. It was about The Lament for Art O'Leary, which I didn't like when I first read and still don't like after the professor spoke about it. The poem was written down after being passed orally for generations, which explains some of the repetition, but it's too long and too repetitive. I am excited for tomorrow's lecture on a poem in translation called The Midnight Court by Bryan Merryman. It is a really bawdy and amusing story about how marriage is out of date and unnecessary, but was written in the 1700s!
I'm going to go lie down and continue my reading of Murphy.
Saturday, Mary, Michelle and I rose early in order to travel to Kinsale, a town in West Cork with a beautiful harbor. Upon arrival, we marveled at the sailboats in the water; the harbor was surrounded by green hills dotted with colorful houses. We went into the tourism office to get directions and post cards; then we began our walk through the city. There were a lot of neat little shops and the most adorable puppies in the pet store.... We shouldn't have gone in there. Getting hungry, we opted to take the advice of a classmate and ate at "Fishy, Fishy" a restaurant that, despite sounding like a kids place, was rather upscale and somewhat of a stretch for our budget. However, the prices were definitely reasonable for the quality and quantity of food. Besides, thinking ahead, we had packed lunches that we instead ate for dinner. I had a delicious salad with avocado, chickpeas, cucumbers, and two varieties of potato. Instead of having a potato side dish, we've noticed their meals often include two to three types of potatoes. (One of the poets who read last night actually had a line about this...) My dish had two variations and my friends both ordered fish and chips; thus they had a third kind. There were potato wedges lining my salad bowl and "crisped" potatoes acting in lieu of croûtons inside the salad; these were delicious, less crunchy and slightly thicker than potato chips. Apparently the restaurant where we ate is really well known, and the entire city is the "gourmet capital" of Ireland.
After lunch, we walked up the hill to Desmond Castle and joined a tour that had just begun. The castle was built to be used as a custom house in 1500, but has had a range of uses throughout its history, including acting as a prison for American sailors during our Revolutionary War. Furthermore, it is now also the site of the International Museum of Wine, which to our dismay, does not have tastings, because of the steep, uneven steps. The tour guide was too long-winded and kept promising he was almost done, but something always reminded him of an additional story. Reading the displays on my own would probably have been more interesting and informative. Nevertheless, it was an interesting site and I'm glad we saw it. On the second floor, there was an outdoor landing-type room where there was a well carved into the stone and hill below. A prisoner from Boston was held captive in that well during the Revolution. In the corner of the courtyard/room, I noticed a green tarp hanging but not fully covering an entrance to what appeared to be a tower. As I was curious, I moved the tarp aside to see if there was a stair case. I wasn't going to ascend it; I just wanted to see if it was indeed a tower. However, much to my shock and fright, something batted its wings far too close to my head and I yelled and bolted from the tarp. Apparently sea gulls roost in that tower, which is why they've covered it with a tarp....I think it needs something else to look more obviously off-limits. Thankfully no one else was on the landing except for my friends and one older couple. We were beginning to feel the exhaustion from the previous late night coupled with waking up too early and went off to find a cafe. After their coffee and my tea, we felt refreshed and continued looking in the shops until it was time to board the bus back to Cork.
Sunday I had planned to watch the last stage of the Tour of Ireland, as it took place in Cork City. Mark Cavendish, a US cyclist who won four stages in the Tour de France was riding in it. However, I was really tired and thankfully my friends were too; we all decided to just have a relaxing Sunday in doors. I ended up spending far too much time on my computer, as I became obsessed with reading study tips for the GRE and looking for opportunities for a spring internship. I found a few interesting publishing internships, but I'm really wary of working for a big firm after my experience with Universal Music Group. Preferably, I want to be a Research Assistant and emailed my Co-op and Career Services adviser asking if she's heard of any positions. It'd be amazing to work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the NYPL; the rare books division would be really interesting. Yet I digress once more.
In class on Monday, we began discussing Samuel Beckett's Murphy, which I really enjoy reading. We also received two old Irish poems in translation to read for the next class. That evening, Michelle, Mary and I went to a poetry reading in city center at the Hayloft, a small pub located in a room over a pub. It was amazing and I'm definitely going back next week. Considering I thought we were just going to hear one poet's reading, it exceeding all expectations. When we arrived, it was somewhat empty; we felt out of place and clearly looked out of place amongst the locals. Soon, however, the place began to fill in and the man in charge explained how the evenings consist of three parts: an opening exercise/competition, the guest reader and an open mic night. This was a surprise to us, but we were glad to participate! He asked for five words from the audience, and various people replied with rumble, flavor, light, hand and poke. After 15 minutes of writing, he asked for people to read. Michelle and I both did, along with many others. She ended up winning!
I like part of the poem I wrote in the quick challenge.
After a sojourn at the shore
your light hand grew tan,
gaining red flavor from late
summer's greedy sun.
While I instead
paled in Ireland.
The guest poet, Knute Skinner, is from the states, but has lived in Ireland since the 60s. I really enjoyed his poetry. Surprisingly I realized I knew a few of my poems by heart, and decided to read at the open mic portion. We were the youngest ones there, but everyone was really welcoming; the range in age from college students to men in their 70s made for a good mix of backgrounds and styles.
I did not enjoy the lecture today. It was about The Lament for Art O'Leary, which I didn't like when I first read and still don't like after the professor spoke about it. The poem was written down after being passed orally for generations, which explains some of the repetition, but it's too long and too repetitive. I am excited for tomorrow's lecture on a poem in translation called The Midnight Court by Bryan Merryman. It is a really bawdy and amusing story about how marriage is out of date and unnecessary, but was written in the 1700s!
I'm going to go lie down and continue my reading of Murphy.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Busy as Beckett
Looking back, I had quite the busy first full week here in Cork. By Thursday, we finished Bowen's The Last September in class and met early Friday morning for our first field trip. Our bus driver Liam was quite friendly and ended up having to wait an extra 15 minutes for a lost student. After that short detainment, we were off to Barryscourt Castle, which is only about 20 minutes from the city. The grey stone castle was remarkable, dating from the 16th century. Visiting any historical site in Europe always amazes me, as our country's history is so short in comparison. Our class was split up into two groups in order to be more manageable. The guide was extremely knowledgeable, making for a fascinating 40-minute tour. It began just inside the castle walls, where we caught a glimpse at the gardens before making our way through the main door- a door which, as we were told, used to have large spikes protruding from it to ward away potential attackers. We ascended the wooden spiral staircase- a new addition- to the main dining room. Here we sat at tables recreated to resemble those of the 16th century, and listened to the guide remark about food, dining customs and how they made pitchers from leather, oil and beeswax. We also looked at the guards' quarters, bathroom and kitchen. Next we climbed the uneven, extremely high steps to the Great Hall where the family would entertain and where their children could play, as it had a fire place. He graciously took a photograph of our class at the table; hopefully I will be able to procure a copy. After touring the castle, we went outside to wander through the garden and apple orchard, both of which are accurate to the 16th century. Growing in the garden are plants and herbs used in the 1500s for both cooking and medicine. The orchard was large and beautiful; I can't wait to get my camera developed from the trip. (I bought a disposable camera for the day, as I want to wait for my money to be in my Irish account prior to making a big purchase.) After the tour guide left us to happily meander through the apple trees, many of us realized we had more questions. He graciously agreed to come back and answer these. What historian isn't delighted to find young people with a common interest? In response to the questions, he told us the stone and other building materials were all local. The castle was actually built by a group of Scottish men who were the best in the business! He also informed us that the Barry family earned money by being landlords; they received money or livestock from their tenants. Upon finishing this discussion, we were rejoined by the other half of our class and boarded the bus to drive to Fota House.
The house was actually a family's hunting lodge, a smaller summer home, but one would never know by its immensity and vast gardens. We walked through the gardens for an hour before lunch, and marveled at the range of plants. A few favorite aspects include the entire Italian garden, the lime tree in the green house and the modern sculpture of black wooden chairs. These are hard to describe without posting a picture, but I'll attempt it. There were five or six large rounded chairs in a circle; I believe it was titled the Re-energizing Circle, or something like that. They had high backs that ended in a forked point, somewhat like a mix between a rain drop and a spork. But I digress... Lunch was delicious; the vegetarian meal was spinach-ricotta quiche and salad. Mary, our professor, told us we'd be having a light lunch, yet it was far from light, and then they served dessert! Nonetheless it was delicious and we then toured the inside of Fota House, which was beautiful. I want pillars, a library and chandeliers in my house.
At two pm, we boarded Liam's bus once again to journey to the site of Bowen's Court, keyword being site. (The following in italics is a summary of the history of Bowen's Court, which I learned from Ms. Mary Breen, my professor.) While Oliver Cromwell ruledEngland and occupied Ireland , there was a class of wealthy families living in Ireland Ireland Ireland
At first glance, nothing remained of Bowen's Court. As I walked towards the site, however, I was able to enter the tall grass and stand on a large stone in order to peer into what used to be the foundation. We walked past what used to be her house to go to the site of one main gardens. All that remains are the tall stone walls. They've been knocked down in some areas to let tractors through, as the garden is simply now part of the farm. After we saw the main area where Bowen lived, we went down to the church and graveyard to see her burial site.
That night, we had dinner at Gazebo's Restaurant. I had a delicious salad, stir-fry and chocolate cake. These three course meals are going to be the death of me... I'll update again soon about the weekend; it too was eventful to continue in one post. However, I now must go get ready, as I'm going to a poetry reading in city center with Michelle, Mary and perhaps Sarah.
The house was actually a family's hunting lodge, a smaller summer home, but one would never know by its immensity and vast gardens. We walked through the gardens for an hour before lunch, and marveled at the range of plants. A few favorite aspects include the entire Italian garden, the lime tree in the green house and the modern sculpture of black wooden chairs. These are hard to describe without posting a picture, but I'll attempt it. There were five or six large rounded chairs in a circle; I believe it was titled the Re-energizing Circle, or something like that. They had high backs that ended in a forked point, somewhat like a mix between a rain drop and a spork. But I digress... Lunch was delicious; the vegetarian meal was spinach-ricotta quiche and salad. Mary, our professor, told us we'd be having a light lunch, yet it was far from light, and then they served dessert! Nonetheless it was delicious and we then toured the inside of Fota House, which was beautiful. I want pillars, a library and chandeliers in my house.
At two pm, we boarded Liam's bus once again to journey to the site of Bowen's Court, keyword being site. (The following in italics is a summary of the history of Bowen's Court, which I learned from Ms. Mary Breen, my professor.) While Oliver Cromwell ruled
At first glance, nothing remained of Bowen's Court. As I walked towards the site, however, I was able to enter the tall grass and stand on a large stone in order to peer into what used to be the foundation. We walked past what used to be her house to go to the site of one main gardens. All that remains are the tall stone walls. They've been knocked down in some areas to let tractors through, as the garden is simply now part of the farm. After we saw the main area where Bowen lived, we went down to the church and graveyard to see her burial site.
That night, we had dinner at Gazebo's Restaurant. I had a delicious salad, stir-fry and chocolate cake. These three course meals are going to be the death of me... I'll update again soon about the weekend; it too was eventful to continue in one post. However, I now must go get ready, as I'm going to a poetry reading in city center with Michelle, Mary and perhaps Sarah.
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