Moher, please.

Saturday came very abruptly to the sound of my cheap Motorola phone alarm clock. Waking up after only 5 hours of hourly interrupted sleep on a stiff mattress does not to the body good (welcome to hostel life). I get up and grab my towel, cause I needed to shower if I was going to look any kind of decent for this tour. Lisa and I go into the shower room, and both our jaws dropped. There are two showers, both with clear glass doors, across from both doors is a mirror. What the hell? I don't want to see myself naked in the mirror through clear glass shower doors, nor do I want to see my roommate completely naked, no offense. Yet, I somehow propped my towel up to shield and took my first hostel shower.

We piled onto the bus at 9:45 and headed off for a guided tour from Galway to the Cliffs of Moher and back. Our tour began with an eccentric man named Desmond, who was very informative and was adamant that we know exactly where we were and what the historical reference was. Desmond would speak, then repeat it three to four times after he spoke it, only he would switch up the wording to make it sound different. It was cute and funny at first but after four hours of palindromic speeches I grew tired of Desmond and drowned him out with my ipod. Our first stop was a castle. It was set on a hill overlooking a bay and immediately reminded me of a postcard. I still didn't have a camera, so I was in charge of my friend Leo's and will live vicariously through his pictures. Back on the bus we made stops at various locations on the way to the cliffs. It seemed like forever, but we got some good photographs that I'll post at the bottom. We stopped for lunch around 1:15 at a pub. I ordered what seemed to be my daily dose of french fries with some vegetable soup. It was delicious and Lisa and I immediately followed it up with a dessert entitled "Death by Chocolate". Now, if I was to die, a death by chocolate would seem like a good way for me to go, so I obliged and paid for an exquisite dessert.



Completely stuffed on chocolate cake and ice cream, we make our way back on the tour bus and head up a windy road to the cliffs. I can see them from the town we are in, just gazing across the ocean and seeing the stoic rocky masses towering over the waves below made me stop to catch my breath. If the views were this gorgeous from down here, how would I even handle the views from the top? The coach bus swayed and meandered up the cliffs and we finally had arrived. It had been a three hour tour so far and the only reason I had signed up was because of the cliffs. We got out of the bus and walked up towards the sidewalk and railing where you can look over the edge. Only there was one problem, it was completely foggy and you couldn't see 3 feet in front of you. To say I was pissed off was an understatement. I moped around for a few minutes before I looked back over my shoulder to find that the fog was clearing away and the cliffs were emerging out the misty, foggy curtain that was concealing them when I first arrived. If there was any time to not have broken my camera, it would have been now. There was a path leading up to the top of the cliffs where you could feel like you were on top of the world. But personally, I don't like boundaries. At the end of the sidewalk there boasts a sign that says "Private Property, Extreme Danger". I don't shy away from any sort of danger, so I jump that sucker and land right on a dirt path with a straight line to the tallest part of the cliff's edge. My converse and I leisurely walked up the dirt path simultaneously looking every which direction to dive in case a giant gust of wind came so I didn't fall to my death. After about seven group pictures I climbed to the top of the cliff. I walked to the edge and got so close that I could see the water directly below me, being put into a trance by the beauty of the entire sight. I only snapped out of it after faintly hearing my friends behind me yelling to "get back and stop being an idiot".





The height and sheer beauty of these cliffs are something that I cannot put into words. It completely took me by surprise at how amazed I was even though I had seen pictures, and I now know why. Pictures can't do them justice. I will start my campaign for them to become the 8th world wonder soon, so please all hop on the band wagon. And if there is anything I can recommend to you besides coming to Ireland in general, it is to see these monstrous beauties. You will not regret the 20 euro bus tour. You will not regret having to listen to a crazy old man ramble about castles, cows, rock tombs and round abouts. Trust me, every penny I spent on that tour was worth it. Hell, I would have spent the 20 euro just to take a bus out to the cliffs by itself. After an hour and a half at the cliffs, I bought a giant ice cream cone, and headed back for the bus. It was 2 euro, so I had to do it. Seeing as I had not slept very well the night before, I decided it was a great opportunity to catch up on some ZZZ's before we went out later on. I was at that point where I was almost asleep but still conscious when I heard and felt the bus come to a halt. I perked up and took out my headphones only to hear Desmond saying "Well, it's rush hour in Ireland." I thought to myself that it was impossible because we aren't even on a road big enough for two cars to fit, let alone enough for a 'rush hour'. To my surprise a heard of cows was walking up the road. We had to slow down because they were literally taking up the entire road. Cow after cow filed past the giant coach bus and were on their way back to a nearby field. Rush hour over. After this weekend I knew Dublin had a place in my heart for sure, but Galway is definitely coming in a close second.

Getting out.

I have just returned home from my first weekend outside of Dublin in the five weeks that I have been in Ireland. We went to Galway, which is completely adorable in every way. I immediately fell in love, much like everything else I see here for the first time. The center of town in some ways resembles Dublin, but much more cozy. The shops are all different facets, textures and colors and contrast each other perfectly on the streets. We arrive by train into Galway at 5:30pm. The 5 girls and myself booked a hostel about a 5 minutes walk from the station. We wandered for a little, got lost for a little, and finally made our way to the Wood Quay Hostel(quay is pronounced 'key). This was my first ever hostel experience and it was interesting to say the least. We had a six bed room, for 20 euro a night. The mattresses were like wooden planks, but they did the job for two nights I suppose. Nothing compared to my bed at home, but I've come to find that nothing compares to my bed at home. After checking into the hostel, we put our stuff down and set off to find something to eat.

We settled on a place called the Couch Potata, a cute little restaurant recommended by the "Ireland for Dummies" book. It had potatoes, obviously, with any and every kind of filling and topping baked inside. It was a novel idea, and I don't know why I've never thought of it before. I ordered the Hawaiian, consisting of 2 huge baked potatoes, ham, swiss cheese, and pineapple. It was delicious. My friends all got various other potato dishes and we were all satisfied after the meal.

Later that night we decided to go out to a pub called The Quays. It was on the main tourist street, Shop Street, and it had loud, live music and lots of people. We went in and the inside was decorated like a pirate ship, I was stoked. The special of the night was 3 euro bottles of Carlsburg, a light beer that I find to be, well, not repulsive. I bought one, and started talking with some guys who are from North Carolina, and have thick, thick accents. Though they are clearly out of age range, Lisa and I decide to milk it for all it's worth and see if we can score a free drink out of the situation. We did. The kind chap bought us both Jager bombs. [For my mom, dad, and grandparents: Jager bombs is a shot of Jager dropped into a cup of Red Bull and you chug it]. It was delicious. Lisa and I decide that these men are of no use to us anymore and go hang out with our friends on the upper level by the band.



The live band was really good, playing songs that everyone could sing along to. Everyone had a great time, but by 1 am, the bar started to close up and we headed home. We had scheduled a tour of the Cliffs of Moher for the Saturday and the bus was leaving at 9:30 am, ouch. After we left the bar we some how ended up at a fast food restaurant. That seems to be the trend here in Ireland; dinner, drinks and fast food. My body is starting to take a hit from the late night fries and after this weekend I have vowed to stay away from any sort of McDonalds after I go out. I am literally scared I will turn into a french fry because I eat them so frequently.

Bed time - 3:00 am, wake up time - 8:00 am. Sleep on a stiff mattress with a pillow that doesn't have much fluff did not give the adequate sleep that I needed for the tour I endured Saturday.

Cheers, to Two-Hundred Fifty Years.

Thursday, September 24, 2009 marked the 250th anniversary of Guinness here in Ireland. Apparently it's a huge cause for celebration all over the world as well, there were television screens in the pub we were in with live feeds from everywhere in the world. The rules were as follows, at 17:59, (5:59pm) everyone was supposed to raise a pint of overpriced disgusting Guinness in honor of Sir Arthur Guinness who started the Guinness brewery on September 24, 1759. We were all done with class relatively early and wanted to get to the pubs early to get a seat. We travel in huge packs so to find a place where we can all fit comfortably is a challenge. Especially, when Ireland has an excuse to drink, we knew the pubs would be completely packed. Around 4:30pm we went to a pub called O'Neils to celebrate. It was a really cool, quaint, traditional Irish pub. The decor inside was eclectic and fun to look at. We went up to the fourth floor and sat in front of a big white projector screen where they were showing the live feeds of all the cities participating. I waited until around 5:30 to reluctantly go up to the bar and get my pint of Guinness. I wrestled with the idea of just not getting a pint at all, because the thought of the black beer grosses me out. I gave in, and purchased a 4.80 euro pint of the black stuff. At 5:59 they gave a cliche 10 to 1 count down and we all raised our glasses and toast to the man Arthur Guinness himself.



After we all finished our pints, Caitlin, Sarah, Lisa and I decided it was time to eat dinner. A street or two down from Grafton Street, which is the main shopping and tourist street they have a restaurant called the 'Gourmet Burger Kitchen'. It was good and definitely needed because we went out after. I was really nervous the entire week because I still don't have any form of ID since I had my wallet stolen. I was nervous about going out and not being let into the bars. The only form of ID with my picture and birth date on it is a paper copy of my passport. I luckily didn't need to use my ID to get into the first pub we went to for the toast, but I just wasn't sure that my paper passport would be enough evidence of my legality to drink in Ireland.

We went out to a two places, the first place we went was Fitzgeralds, another traditional Irish pub with live music all night. I swear, every where we go as a group, we're always the loudest and most obnoxious people in the pub. My entire group of friends was surrounding the man playing guitar shouting for him to play some form of American music. He settled on Tom Petty, then rounded out his set list with what seems like the anthem of my trip here, American Pie. My friends all formed a mosh pit in the front of the pub and danced until American Pie was over.

In between Tom Petty and American Pie there were some traditional Irish folk songs that he played. I was just sitting against the wall with Sarah and all the sudden a man, quite possibly around 85 years old comes up and takes my hand. He starts slow dancing with me in front of the entire pub. I am completely shocked that I am dancing with a man who could very well be my grandfather, and we have not even exchanged pleasantries. I don't just dance with old men that I've never met before, but as with many times on this trip, there's always a first for everything. After twirling me, he asks if he could dip me, and I replied politely with no, because I don't think his frail arms could even attempt to hold me at that angle. I try to find a reason to leave, and find my option in my friend Sarah who is unsuspectingly sitting against the wall. Old man now goes up to Sarah and steals her away in the same form he took me. I assume he does this sort of thing often. The awkward dance didn't just happen once, but twice. After he takes me for round two of this wedding dance extravaganza I decide I need to leave before it takes a turn for the worse. We head out of the pub and cross the street to a bar we've been to before, Messers.



Messers is a four story pub, with great music and always a good time. It is also the first place that I have to show my ID to get in. I am completely nervous and shaking as I walk up to the bouncer and present my case. I plead with the doorman that I have a paper copy of my passport and he looks at it, laughs and says that it's fine and he hopes I have a good night. I instantly felt better because the past few weeks have been iffy and not being let into a pub when I am actually of age would be the icing on the cake. Thankfully, it was not the case. We walked in and stayed at Messers until about 12am and then decided to call it a night.

Walking back to hail a cab, we all notice the streets lined with shattered pint glasses. Over all Arthur's day was fun, though basically just an excuse for the Irish to drink. I'm beginning to understand that any excuse, is a good excuse for the Irish to drink.

When you think the worst is over.

Let me preface the story: So just last weekend, my camera and blackberry were drowned by my roommate's explosive mixed drink in my purse. After the submergence of all my technological and electronic items, I was left completely alone and out of touch with the whole world. Well, not really, I just had to rely on meeting people when they said to meet and trusting there would be no divergence to the plan (which I otherwise would have found out via text message given I was still technologically connected). Needless to say, this past week was a struggle for me. I am a picture taking fiend, and for some of the best days in Dublin this past week I have had to rely on other people's cameras for pictorial evidence of my time here. I have in certain situations, acted as a paparazzi, merely using someone's camera for my own benefit. I don't really think anyone, besides a few of my best friends understand how important pictures are to me. EVERYTHING must be documented. Even if it's an ugly crack in the sidewalk that I see in a certain light, I have to have a picture so I can look back one day and say "Oh, look there's that beautiful ugly sidewalk crack that I stepped on in Dublin that one Wednesday when it was raining." All pictures have significance, and me without a camera is basically like chopping off one of my arms or legs; I'm just not complete. I have strolled through this past week uneasily, constantly worrying if I were to get lost or separated from my group, how I would make a smoke signal to tell them where I am and how to get back to me. I have filled my camera voids with my friend Caitlin's camera, and I finally got re-connected with the world yesterday, when my 24.99 euro, non-color screened, candy bar sized Motorola came in the mail for me. I thought things were looking up as I got ready to go out for a Friday night in Dublin. Clearly, the worst had not hit me yet.

First off, my entire Friday was a suck-fest in general. I had woken up at the God awful hour of 8am Friday morning in an effort to go to the Immigration office in the city center to register and pay a ridiculous 150 euro fee to stay in the country for 3 weeks after my 90 day tourist period is up. DUMB. Anyways, Sarah and I get up, wearing sweat pants ready for an entire day sitting in non-comfortable chairs just to get a 5 minute check of my documents and pay the fees and leave. The place is unbelievably crowded at 9:50 when we arrive (it opens at 9:30) and they are no longer giving out tickets for the day. Strike 1. We go do some retail therapy on O'Connell Street.

The previous night, was a dinner and wine reception for all the study abroad students. I obviously went for the free wine. My roommate and I each drank about 6 glasses, without eating dinner. We came back to the apartment and made pizzas. While cleaning up my roommate drops my only plate I have here on the ground. It shatters. I am obviously in the market for a new plate on Friday, and go to the grocery store on campus to get one for 75cents. They don't sell plates anymore. I eat dinner out of a bowl. Strike two.

The strike three of the worst Friday in history, puts the icing on the cake. For a week I have been without a cell phone or a camera. I get ready Friday night for what should be a good time. I finally have a phone, and though I'm out of cash, I decide I can just use my new bank card and not get the international service fee charge. My friends and I leave my gross, smelly apartment (we call it the Nest because it breeds new species of bugs each day) and hop on the bus into the city center of Dublin. We drink a little bit before heading out to some pubs in the Temple Bar area. We go to two bars and finally go to the last one, The Temple Bar. I show my license to get into the bar and put away my wallet. I haven't even bought a drink out and I know I have my wallet at this point. We stay there for less than an hour and decide to head to McDonald's for the usual drunken food stop. 2 Medium fries, a McChicken, McFlurry, and a 5 euro medium meal deal later (I didn't eat all of this, only half of a McFlurry) we get in a cab and head back to the Nest. The cab is the usual 16 euro, and I have no cash on me so Caitlin offers to cover for me. I have only change in my wallet, so I offer to pay the 25cents extra in an effort to make me feel like I contribute in some way. I go to get my wallet, and it's gone. Strike three.

I have no passport, which the only reason I brought it out in the first place is because of the immigration office earlier in the day. I have no license or ID in general with my birthday/picture, I have no cash, no bus pass, no student ID card, no travel cards. Nothing.

Strike three and I am out. The good news: the worst is over now, I hope. If I die here, which may come next, then you can all have my room, it's spacious you'll sleep comfortably.

The city that REALLY never sleeps.

I like my beauty rest. I like it a lot. I have found here that the Irish don't value sleep as much as me, or maybe any one who doesn't live here. I don't know if I mentioned this, but the kids who live on campus here go home on the weekends. Thus, the week is where the partying happens. The students go home, to help mainly work on their farms in the countryside of Ireland. To be frank, campus is a ghost town starting Friday afternoon. As I sit here and type this, at 2:05pm on Thursday afternoon, I can already say that I have seen people start to file out to the bus stop with rolling suitcases on their way home, which could very well be up to two hours away. But I have not come to write here today about the students of UCD leaving on the weekends, I have come to comment on the incessant partying and utterly obnoxious antics that my fellow student and apartment residences part take in almost every night of the week. Now I love a good party just like everyone else, but I know there are also times to stay in, especially when I have class as early as 9am the next morning.

My mom has often commented on my nasally challenged dog, Madison's ability to snore so loud it prohibits my dad from actually falling asleep (which is an achievement for anyone). Madison's snoring has caused my dad to need a second pillow to hold over his ear in an effort to drown out the snoring and panting that comes from Madison's failing respiratory system. He calls this pillow, his suppressor. After living here, I would take Madison's snoring and panting, with no suppressor over the noisy sleeping conditions that I have to endure.

I have been here for about three weeks now, and I can say that the noise level has severely escalated each week of my stay. Last night was a new high that was reached; decibel wise. I didn't even lay my head to my pillow until about 1am because I had coffee with dinner so I was a bit wired. But at that time, there were people gallivanting around the quad screaming bloody murder in a language I know very well; drunken rambling. I can deal with the loud talking and even some running and screaming because I too, have been the person at the forefront of these activities at least one time or another in my life. But when the noise level gets progressively louder as the hours slip into the night, that's something I cannot deal with. I have class in the morning, as well as many other students do too. I did not even get to bed until 5am last night.

The apartment below me were the source of all my problems last night, and I assume will be for many more nights to come (at least until the weekend comes). The boys and girls on the first floor of my apartment didn't seem to be conscious of the time or the fact that maybe people were trying to sleep (this is where I realized people here don't value sleep during the week). They continued to blast Irish folk music while chanting the Irish national anthem as loud as possible until about 4:30 am. I think they played the same folk song on repeat the whole night, as it was playing so loud I could practically hear the words.

I was so furious at the 4am mark that I opened my lap top and wrote what I thought was a very intimidating email to the housing director of my apartment complex. It was fierce, the rage was permeating out of my screen with every word I typed. I think it worked too, because the woman emailed me back and asked to have a meeting with her about the whole situation.

Quiet down Ireland. Good night.

Trackpants, and other fashion faux pas.

I have to say, love Ireland, not so much the fashion sense. I think the biggest part of my culture shock has come from the fashion statements the youth of Ireland put on for clothing every morning and night. Mainly, I think the goal is to not match whatsoever and manage to look completely ridiculous.

For the guys, it seems as though they are stuck in the 90's. I cannot count how many times I have seen the unthinkable; track pants. Now, I have no particular qualms about track pants, but I do in fact, think they should be worn on a track. The boys at this school will get all dapper on top, with a nice polo shirt or a sweater than just completely ruin it with some black knock-off Adidas track pants. Why? I just don't understand.

The girls are in an entirely different league of their own. First of all it's straight from the 80's with hair resembling the likes of Bret Michaels in the Poison and "metal hair" band days (I kid you not, I thought I kept the bobby pin and hair spray industry afloat, I was wrong). These girls tease, spray, and pin like there is no tomorrow. Their hair does not move. Second, if the bad hairspray and pin job wasn't enough, the bleached blond locks of their otherwise brunette roots give any skunk a run for its money. They then in turn, pair tights with every piece of clothing imaginable; shorts, skirts, capris, dresses, you name it. And you may be thinking, oh tights, that's not that bad... No, these tights are neon, printed, or striped. I think these girls try and pick the brightest, most absurd articles of clothing and just throw them together. It's like a bad runway show waltzing through the campus everywhere I look.

I know that I stick out like a sore thumb with my jeans, converse, plain t-shirts and sweaters. But hey, maybe they'll take a hint?

I'm never coming back.

Sorry to say people, but I have officially decided after my two week stay here in Ireland, that I will never be returning to the states. Just kidding, but I wish I could stay here forever. I may change my mind as the sun suddenly goes away on Wednesday and it turns back to the gloomy, wet and eerie weather Ireland is known for. All I can say is these past two weeks have been amazing and the weather has made it that much better for me to adjust. (Pictured : part of Trinity College and a building contrasting the gorgeous blue sky.)



My Sunday consisted of me sleeping until around 9:45 when I got up and made my morning coffee. I had stayed in Saturday night due to a stress fracture on my right foot (I have to learn to ease back into running and not just jump into a five mile jog after a 2 week exercise hiatus). I needed a night to sit back and relax without walking miles around Dublin at night, an activity I part take in almost every time we go out. We had decided earlier in the week that we wanted to take a tour of the famed Guinness Brewery. Though I had heard it is a tourist trap, I had the urge to see how the beer was made and the history of it (it will be 250 years come the end of September). Today was no exception to the gorgeous weather I've been seeing here. Sunny and 60 degrees. We hopped on the bus around 2pm and got into the city center around 2:15. We walked around for a little, taking pictures of various buildings while trying to find a connection bus to get to the brewery. When we arrived I was surprised at how daunting the whole building was. Huge brick walls made the factory extremely guarded as if to protect the beer from an eminent attack. Regardless, it was an opportunity to take pictures of an old brick factory, large metal gates, and cobblestone walkways. (pictured: factory, us outside the gates, the storehouse)





After getting inside the fee for the self-guided tour is 11 euro. Included is a tour of the eight floor factory, a taste test (half pint of Guinness) and a free pint of Guinness at the gravity bar on top of the storehouse. The storehouse is not the actual site of the brewery, but where it was fermented back in the early days. It is now turned into a museum with authentic machines and detailed descriptions and exhibits that show how the iconic beverage goes from barley to beer. Atop the eight story museum is the gravity bar. It gets it's name because it is a 360 degree glass room that gives you the illusion you're floating, thus defying gravity. This view is absolutely breath-taking. We go up to the gravity bar and all turn in our tickets for a free (well, 11 euro) pint of Guinness. Though I don't like the beer, I did like the views and over all thought the tour of the storehouse was worth it's cost. Money well spent on a Sunday afternoon. Stay tuned. (pictured: view from gravity bar, that doesn't do it justice).

Burgers and Nightlife.

Thursday we decided to go on an adventure to find this burger place for dinner that my friend Caitlin had been to before. It's in Dun Laoghaire (DUN-LEER-EEY) and it's called 'Real Gourmet Burger'. I decided it had to be phenomenal because who would name a restaurant that if the burgers were not real or gourmet. Burgers are also one of my favorite foods so I was chomping at the bit to get on the bus and go find this place. I had bought a bus pass for 75 euro, which grants me 30 non-consecutive days of unlimited bus rides per day. If I had not bought this pass I would have paid almost 11 euro in fees for the bus, but got to ride the whole day with swiping my card. So far a good investment. We get off the 46A bus at the last stop and see this gorgeous view of sailboats in a marina on the water. I didn't have my camera, but my roommate Lisa took a picture and I'll post it once she uploads it. It was so picturesque and the view seemed that it should be on a "wish you were here" post card. Right down the street on the right was the burger joint. I was in heaven when I smelled every kind of savory topping and the smell the emanated from the bowls of fries on people's plates next to me was quite possibly one of the best scents I have witnessed to date. The eatery was small and packed. Our group of seven had to split up to get tables but it was fine. All I was concerned about was the menu and what it had to offer. I ended up ordering a grilled chicken burger topped with relish, lettuce, tomato, Swiss cheese and chili. It was awesome to say the least. I coupled my burger with some skinny fries that I devoured in under five minutes. I was sad after the meal cause I did not savor it like I had originally planned. I also had planned to take half home to make a meal out of it, and that didn't work well either because the entire burger was in my stomach in twenty minutes. It was excellent and lived up to its name. I recommend it to anyone who has a burger craving, or is just a human in general and likes good food for a great price (huge, I mean giant burger and large side of fries for 13 euro).

Stomachs full and in a full food coma, we rode the bus back to campus. We got ready to go out and ended up at this club called Dicey's. It was packed. It had an inside with two bars, and then an outside courtyard as well. We took our own table in the back and just sat and talked. I am constantly amazed by the nightlife of this town. We always end up going somewhere new and vastly different from the last place. The clubs and pubs are so lavish and extravagant I can see why the prices for drinks are so high. I have made the conscious decision to not spend money on more than one drink in an effort to keep my spending on frivolous self-gifts to a minimum. Hours seemed to fly by while everyone is drinking and dancing their nights away. We left aroudn 1:30am and made what seems to be an all to familiar run to McDonalds in an attempt to calm the hungry stomachs of all my friends. What amazes me is the skyrocketing prices of fast food. A five-piece chicken select meal would run you about 5 or 6 dollars back in the states. Here, the meal costs about 10 euro. But when people are under the influence anything goes for burgers, friends and milk shakes.

The past couple days I have had the privilege to go running outside campus. The weather has been gorgeous so I used it as an opportunity to finally get off my butt and explore the suburban residences of the city. I ran for about an hour each day going different directions each time. The first day I ran down past all these gorgeous brick condominiums. What's awesome about these brick establishments is that the residents paint their doors. So each door is a different color adding character to the houses which all look the same. It's adorable and so popular here, ranging from the city center to suburban areas. The second day of running I ran to the beach. It's an amazing feeling running and to the left of you just seeing water and to the right are crowded cobblestone streets with brick homes. I just hope this weather lasts a little longer so I can explore some more.

Learning is different here.

My first week of classes went as good as can be expected. I am taking five courses; Introduction to Political Theory (boring), Modernism (boring), Political Sociology (boring), Modern Architecture (interesting) and Social Anthropology (interesting). I am excited about the architecture and social anthro class. The architecture here in Dublin is reall fascinating to me and I'm excited to go on field trips around the country and see first hand some of the gorgeous structures Ireland has to offer. Social anthropology is interesting to me because it's taking a look at different primitive cultures around the world. My professor seems really into the course, and wants to push you to do your best. What I don't like about any of these courses, or maybe the school in general, is that there is no structure to any class. No joke, my Modernism professor had a list of 'mandatory, essential and reccomended' texts. She then went through the mandatory text list and said "If you're really serious about this course and want to spend some money, get this book. But if you're just looking for some background reading, you're better off with this book." Nowhere in the course syllabus is there any mention of what I am supposed to read before any given lecture for any of my classes except my Politics class. Coming from UConn, I am told what I need to do, read, and score on an exam to get a certain grade in the course. Here, I haven't been told if I actually need to read any books before lectures, or if I need to buy books at all. It's frustrating not having a set curriculum to follow, and I never thought I'd say this, but I don't like this sort of just 'how serious you want to take this course' attitude.

This semester will be different to say the least. I am confident that I can pull off great grades and excel, it may just take a few weeks to figure out what exactly is expected of me in each class. Many of the classes have seminars, which are smaller discussion based classes that meet every other week to discuss what's happening in lecture. I have projects and papers (2000-2500 words is considered a major paper here) due in seminars that are 30-50% of my final grade. After the first week, I think that I am over qualified for this school. People were complaining about 2500 word papers while I was in line to register. In my eyes 2500 words is about two and a half pages, and can be written in under thirty minutes. I guess this just means more free time for me, and that I can't complain about.

Well, have to go get my learnin' on. Talk to you soon.

Black Monday

So it has been a while since I've written and I apologize. Classes finally started this week so it has been very hectic getting from place to place on time. Last Sunday, my friends and I woke up for a historical walking tour of Dublin. It had been sunny and 60 the whole week so I was ecstatic to walk around and see the sites. The morning brought rain, rain, and more rain as we took a two hour tour of the city I now call my home. Despite the less than desirable weather conditions, I managed to enjoy the tour in my raincoat, sweat pants, running shoes and umbrella. Note to self : tourism is much more enjoyable when in comfy clothing. The sites were gorgeous as we walked through St. Steven's Green, Trinity College, The Parliament building and various hotels and pubs along the way. I swear the more I walk around this city, the more I find it's charm undeniable. It has always been hard for me to see the light at the end of a tunnel. Especially here, when outside the cover of that tunnel it seems always be pouring rain. But Ireland as a whole has made me see rainy days in a new light. I have learned to appreciate the sun, and the days when it graces Ireland with its presence. The tour, though rainy and utterly miserable to walk in, was a great experience for me and I thoroughly enjoyed my time walking for two hours surprisingly enough. I posted a few pictures on my last post, but I'll add more at the end.

With the end of that Sunday, also ended my first week in Ireland. It was now time to get serious, and for once I have to admit I was excited for classes to start. I was eager to meet people my own age and find friends from Ireland to hang out with. My weekly schedule is pretty laid back, with only a few classes each day, and large gaps in between. I came to find out that the first day of class here at UCD is called "Black Monday". Black Monday consists of and all day drinking extravaganza sponsored by the school itself. It begins in the student bar on campus, and hops to various bars, pubs, and clubs throughout the night. It's a sort of christening for the new year. I had class until 3pm Monday, but met up with my friends at the Student Bar around 4pm. The boys we have been hanging out with from Bentley College in Massachusetts had been there since 1pm. They claimed to have already seen two men fall to the ground, passed out and removed by authority. It was only going to get worse. There was no room to breathe, let alone move because of the sheer volume of people in the student bar. My feet were stuck to the floor because all the spilled beer, wine, and cocktails on the floor acted like glue to the soles of my shoes. My friends and I hung around the bar until 5:30. We didn't even attempt to get a drink because the bar was so swamped it looked like a mosh pit could burst out at any moment if you looked at someone the wrong way while trying to get a beer. At 5:30 we left, to make a group dinner and plan our nights events.
The whole campus was used as a billboard for local clubs as representatives passed out fliers with coupons, drink specials, and promotions of all kinds in every lecture hall on campus. All of us decided we were going to go to this club called D TWO in honor of Black Monday because they had the best deals. We get in line around 11pm and people just start swarming to try and get in. Soon enough we realize there is an 8 euro entrance cover and decide that this is way too much to spend to get into a club that we weren't going to be at for very long (My two friends and I set a 12:45am curfew for ourselves because we had early classes on Tuesday).
We ended up at Flanary's, a bar we had gone to earlier the past week and had a blast. One of the boys from Bentley, Leo, was dancing with this Irish man who had way too many drinks that night. Songs by U2, Whitesnake, and Journey were the cause of some terrible dancing by all parties involved. Needless to say, we did not engage in the 'black' part of Black Monday, meaning blacking out. We ended up going home at curfew and getting a good nights rest before classes on Tuesday. I hear "Black Friday", which is the last Friday of lectures before exams will be a day to remember. Hopefully.

Pictures from the walking tour...
In order : random building, Trinity building, a pub we've been to, old UCD buildings from when the school was in the center of Dublin, and the lake from St. Steven's Green.

I need a budget plan.

Saturday during the day we went into Sandymount, a quaint little town, because Caitlin had to get her haircut. Lisa, Francesca, Sarah and I walked around the streets exploring a place where we could get dinner. We decided on a cute little coffee house across from a small park. The bus system is less than impressive in Dublin, and after dinner, we waited almost 40 minutes for a bus to come. Not fun.

These are pictures of the beach, and some from Sandymount.







Saturday night we started at a pub called The Porter House. It's in an area called Temple Bar, which is a large tourist attraction. We went and they had this strawberry beer that tasted like pop rocks, sprite, and apple juice all mixed together. It was a party for my taste buds, I loved it. Though I did not personally buy one of these beers in a pint, I had the pleasure of taste testing everyone's; to make sure there was nothing wrong with it of course. A pint ran you about 5 euro, while a glass (which is what I stick to now since my Irish lover told me that pints are not lady like) is only about 2.60 euro. Much more budget friendly for me seeing as I'm wasting away money like its sand at the beach. I have found that the first week abroad is a "get out of jail free" card in a way. You just make bad money decisions and then can just use the 'well it's my first week here, I don't know any better' excuse. This will all cease starting Monday. I am writing up a budget plan involving food costs, bus costs, and travel plans. Then the left over will be for fun purchases such as drinks. We'll see if this actually happens.

My friend Sarah and I decided it was our goal to meet as many locals as possible. We meandered up to this group of guys and started chatting. The guys I was talking to was named Kevin. I introduce myself and he asks where I go to school. I said UCD, and it's just a coincidence that he goes to Trinity. I didn't mention before, but Trinity and UCD are rivals. They hate each other, so clearly we are off on the wrong foot. Kevin gets over the fact that I am a UCD attendee, and we talk for about 15 more minutes until my beer runs out. I knew at this time that all our friends we came with had moved spots so we needed to go find them. Kevin offers to buy me a drink and I decline with the excuse that "I need to find my friends, sorry, but thank you." I am dumb. I have no made a serious mental etching into my brain that if someone offers you a drink, you take it. Feeling stupid, we walk over and find our friends in another corner on the opposite side of the pub. It seems to me the Americans are always the loudest people in the pub. And somehow, there is always a dance party revolving around a classic 90's song of my childhood. Tonight's tune of choice, Bad Touch by the Bloodhound Gang. I know every word, so I rapped and was in euphoria because this song was a staple my sophomore year of high school.


(All of us at The Porter House)

My friend Francesca had met a boy on Friday night who played in a band. We call him Guitar. Guitar strolls into the Porter House and says that he has mates over at this bar called Fitzsimons. I heard that he had mates and made the case that we should go over there and meet Guitar's band friends. What's there to lose when there are Irish men, in a band? We walk to Fitzsimons and it's packed. Sarah, Caitlin and I decide we're going to branch off yet again and talk to these three guys, who we think are locals. They are not. These three men hail from Germany, Spain and Italy. Now I thought there was a language barrier between myself and the Irish, but I was wrong. I had to try and speak three different languages to communicate with these people. I was so excited that this one boy was from Spain I took the liberty of pulling him aside and practicing my four high school years worth of Spanish on him. At the end of the 45 minute conversation (which was really me speaking broken Spanish, and him laughing at my attempts) he told me I had a nice accent, and my Spanish was okay. I guess I have Senora Villamarin to thank for that one. NOT. Somehow it was understood by the Italian and the Spaniard that Sarah and I would be at St. Steven's Green at 11:30 (or Once Y Media as I shouted) Sunday morning. This prompted the boys to ask to take us on dancing dates, and somehow we decided this was a good idea. It wasn't.


I started getting phone calls at 11:30 from an unknown number and realized what I had done. I had agreed to go dancing with two men who could not speak more than 8 words of English each. Sarah and I walked through each corner with our eyes peeled, ready to jump into a crowd of people at the sight of either of the men. We took the walking tour of historical Dublin. It was pouring rain but I still managed to enjoy the gorgeous architecture Dublin has to offer, I'll post pictures below.

That's it for now, one week down.

Pictured : Trinity College courtyard and clock tower, colorful Dublin doors, St. Steven's green.

Ginger count : 1

Thursday night, September 3, was a highlight so far of me week in Dublin. My roommate is in the study abroad program, which differs from my program, an exchange student. I physically take someone's place at UCD, while they take my place at UConn. A study abroad student just enrolls in the school and doesn't take anyone's place. I was made sure of this important difference during orientation Thursday. The study abroad students were granted a welcoming reception consisting of finger foods and wine. I decided this was not an opportunity to pass up free food and most definitely not a chance I'd pass up free wine, so I tagged along illegally, drinking their wine and eating their sandwiches. Hey, all's fair when you only get 70 cents to the dollar. During the reception we met some boys from Boston who go to Bentley and they asked us to come out with them that night. We have yet to meet any boys that are Irish, or American for that matter so we got ready and went out with them.

The boys went to the student bar and naturally, the girls went home to change. Somehow, during the 30 minute clothes change, the boys managed to acquire a fifth man to the mix, an large Irish man named Finch. He is stocky, definitely a ginger, with glasses and constantly carries around a backpack. Finches parents live in the mountains, so he never goes home, just carries the backpack with clothes in it so he can crash on people's couches and have new outfits for the next day. Finch is also a fifth year at UCD and assures us all that he knows his way around the city. We decided to follow him in his quest to find us good beer, good discounts, and youthful Irish men.

The first bar we went to was called Malloy's. It's located right on a gorgeous river. It's four stories high with seemingly infinite bars all over the place. We picked the third floor and had our own room practically to ourselves. We all bought Bock, a 4 euro beer that the pub brews themselves. It was better tasting experience than I had with Guinness, and I hate to say it, but beer is definitely growing on me. All ten of us were sitting at a table, when a small Asian man comes over with a platter of free sandwiches for us to eat. We had no idea what any of us had done to deserve these free treats, but it was a feeding frenzy for the masses as people plowed through the free h'orduereves (I can't spell that word). The night then spontaneously busted out into a dance party consequently after The Black Eyed Peas "I got a feeling" came on. One of the boys, Chris pushed the tables apart and back away to make a dance floor, and suddenly it was an all out American dance fest in Malloy's third floor. We were greeted by two women, who seemed to enjoy dancing a little too much. It was a bit.. intense for my liking, but hey who am I to judge? Finch, or Big Red as some of the guys dubbed him, decided to lead us in a completely wrong direction to go to the second bar. Note to self: this will not be the first time Big Red lets us down.

We wander all over the kingdom of Dublin aimlessly. I am amazed by the architecture to even realize how long we were walking. We get to a corner and decide it's best to pull out a map and see where we are. After pin-pointing our location we find that the second pub is just a few streets away. We get to Flanary's, which is small, packed, and hot. I make a b-line to the bathroom while the others move on to their second drinks. After the bathroom, which is basically a swamp, my friend Becky and I decided it's faster to get a drink if we go to the lower level bar. We wandered down the ramp and I spot the man of my dreams. He's tall, dark hair, and cute as hell. His name is Connor. I decide this would be a good time to pretend I have no idea what's going on. So I ask him "Hey what's good to drink here, that I can get in a pint?" He returns with, "Pints aren't very ladylike". Apparently, women in Ireland drink glasses, which is half a pint and men drink pints. But, why am I supposed to get the shaft and not be able to drink as much alcohol as the next man? Not fair I say. So I just reply with "Well, I can't afford any vodka at the moment, because all I have is 5 euro, and I need a cab ride home." He turns around, buys me a vodka tonic, and says, "Don't worry about it, I'll make sure you get home." At this point, I'm ready to run away with this man and get married. We ended up talking the whole night and he's a neuroscience major at Trinity College. A definite keeper. He took my heart when he left that night, and I hope to see him soon.


The night ended at Eddie Rockets, which is Europe's cousin of Johnny Rockets. 4 euro fries and a cab ride later, I'm home in my bed at 4am, and in love with Dublin.

Found a euro.

So Tuesday night constituted my first night at an actual Irish pub. I first had the joy of using my actual passport to buy wine at the convenience store, with no fear that the cops would bust in at any second with plans to take me away for pawning myself off as Melissa Swartworth of Virginia Beach. It was a joy to actually be able to buy wine for myself. The girls I've been hanging out with got together at my friends apartment and we conversed about random things, mostly about my hair straightener blowing up upon plugging it into my outlet strip. Sweet, nice 160$ Chi straightener down the drain. FML. We stayed and drank until about 930, after which we decided to go to a bar close by. We googled, and found this bar, Kieley's, had great reviews and it was awesome all nights of the week. So, it being Tuesday it should be awesome. We walk to the bus stop, it's raining as usual, so we trek along. We get on the bus and go to the pub in Donnybrook. Thinking it's going to be off the chain, I was surprised when I didn't hear bumpin' traditional Irish songs. We get in there, and are litterally the only people in the place, with the exception of the the bouncer and a middle aged white man with a scruffy beard, who is currently drinking himself into oblivion all by his lonesome. I know this because he has 6 Guinness pints surround his solo drinking adventure in the corner booth. So we humor the bartender and waiter and actually sit down instead of walking out, and I am pressured to order a the most repulsive beverage I can think of, Guinness. I decided I should at least try it, seeing as I am in the native country. The first sip was just as gross as the last. It tasted like coffee, sand, foam, and mud all had a party in a blender and came out into this vile drink that the Irish pawned off as a delicacy. So I finished it, like a champ, and felt disgusting after. Needless to say, beer does not sit well with me and did not feel up to par Wednesday morning.
Wednesday rolls around with our International Student welcoming ceremony at 4pm. It poured all day. Every day that it rains I always ask myself why I came here, and then I hear some boy talk, and then I take back my question. So if you want to come here, come for the accents, not the weather, cause I'll be honest, it sucks. After the welcoming ceremony, which consisted of a bearded man who semi-resembled one of the members of ZZTop (google them if you don't know) who droned on about the history of Ireland finished blabbering after 10 long minutes, I opened my eyes again and we were given free scarves and coffee! I love free things, so momentarily I forgot about the rain, and walked home with delight, sort of. We decided Thursday we'd go to the student bar on campus because there was a band playing. We get there and it was pretty packed... with 17 year old freshman. We made friends and saw the band, who were actually pretty good. My friends and I started talking to these two boys who told me my accent was difficult to understand, which I counteracted with "UM, have you heard yourself speak?". I think he found rude, so I apologized. The night ended, and after two ridiculously priced drinks (vodka tonic -6.50, coors light 3.50, it was all I could afford), I was out 10 euro and on my way home. Hopefully tonight will bring better things, as we're going to a night club, and seeing as I don't dance what so ever it will be interesting.

So far so good. :).

First days in the Emerald Isle.

So, I have officially spent my first two days in Ireland and have successfully adjusted to the time difference. It's about five hours ahead here, so I went to bed Monday night at 7:30pm, and woke up today around 11. So, I'm all caught up on sleep.
Monday we arrived around 9am off of our five hour flight from New York. This flight was supposed to be a time of rest and relaxation, but the half sleeping pill didn't work, and I found that the tv sets in the back of the seats were a great way to entertain myself for the time being. Needless to say, I was exhausted by the end of the day yesterday. Upon arrival, the three girls I was traveling with and I, went through customs with ease. We took a cab to campus and I lugged my 74 pound suitcase, carry-on and backpack up three flights of stairs to my room.

Originally, I was psyched about my living situation because I had looked on the website to find a neatly decorated and clean 3 bedroom living space. No. This was a poorly cleaned, obviously not maintenance checked, crap excuse for an apartment. Nothing was mopped, cleaned or dusted before my arrival. We are without a toaster and a kettle, which are two items SUPPOSED to be in everyone's apartment. The bathroom has a toilet and a tub, which caused a minor freak out on my part cause there was no shower. But then I opened a door to which I thought was a closet, and there, low and behold was our shower. So basically, I shower in a closet. Our shower head doesn't stay upright so I have to hold it with one hand while I shampoo, condition, and wash my body with the other. The grout in the shower tiles are brown due to lack of cleaning and the shower curtain fell down on my roommate this morning. Pleasant to say the least. I've added pictures for you to see my room, bathroom, showering closet, kitchen and living area.

It was raining yesterday, so naturally I just decided to not care and go grocery shopping. Some girls and I took the bus to the city center, and walked around because we needed phones as well. We entered a store called Dunnes which is similar to JCPenny's but just has a grocery store conveniently located down an escalator. Weird. I had three bags worth of stuff, and didn't realize they charged for the use of plastic bags. Note to self: bring tote bags when grocery shopping. It down pouring as I walked out of Dunnes. I had three heavy overpriced plastic grocery bags that are cutting off circulation of my fingers with each step. Fabulous. Love this place. I get on the bus and go back to my room at around 5, I poured some Corn Flakes into my coffee mug for dinner, and pass out at 730pm.

Tuesday morning graced me with it's presence at 11am, and sun. I was ecstatic. My roommate, Lisa was awake, she's nice, from Minnesota and goes to school in Wisconsin. I walked around campus today with these two girls Sarah and Caitlin. I flew over with Sarah and Caitlin is her roommate that has been in Ireland for two weeks prior with her parents. She knows where she's going, I followed. We walked to the grocery store on campus which is convenient, I thought it was only a convenience store but it has pretty much everything I'll need so I'll shop there for most things. I still have to get pots and pans, so Lisa and I are waiting for the third roommate, if there is a third, to show up so we can go together. Tonight will be my first night out. I'm sure that it will bring enough for me to write an entry by itself. Until then. PEACE!


MY ROOM and CLOSET.






MY KITCHEN and LIVING AREA





MY GROSS SHOWER CLOSET and BATHROOM