Seville

Hola de España! I am going to have the hardest time not typing in Spanish right now. I´ve been having the time of my life brushing up on the language, and automatically start thinking in Spanish now, after just a few days! I wish I knew so much more, I love conversing with the people here but I have to warn them that solo hablo poquito Español.

I´m traveling with my four good friends from the BU program, and we just met up with some of our guy friends in Madrid (we booked the same hostel, the same floor, and didn´t even know it!). It´s an absolute blast traveling with my friends. We´re having an awesome time just taking it all in, struggling through the language together. We left Dublin Thursday night and arrived in Alicante, Spain at around midnight. Our flight to Sevilla, the real destination, wasn´t until 6am, so we all experienced our first all-nighter in an airport. Totally safe, there were guards and everything, so no worries there. But nothing was open, as we had anticipated. We stepped outside to at least say we breathed some Alicante air and it was WARM. Warm. So amazing. There were palm trees. We were psyched. We also met some great people who pulled the same all-nighter, a girl from Brazil and a boy from Madrid. He was so helpful giving us a list of places to go and food to try.

We arrived in Sevilla at last at around 11am the next day and passed out until 5pm. Luckily, one of the girls I´m with had a bunch of friends studying in Sevilla, so we had great tour guides to show us around the city that night.

Sevilla is beautiful. Even beyond our obsession with the palm trees, the narrow stone streets and flora everywhere is awesome and architecture is so fascinating. My favorite part was La Catedral de Sevilla, the largest cathedral I have ever seen. There were paintings covering every surface, countless altars adorned in gold, statues everywhere, and the ceilings were phenomenally high. There is a 34 story tower that gives you the BEST view of the city, and yes, we climbed it. Instead of stairs, however, you climb ramps to get up, originally built that way so that they could ride horses up. Looking out over the city was amazing. Tiny dots of every color umbrella swarmed through the stone streets amongst yellow-beige buildings with brightly colored doorways. Even with the rainy weather it was so colorful.

My favorite thing about Sevilla is the trees. There are orange trees and an occasional lemon tree EVERYWHERE you go, just orchards of them. They are not edible, we were warned, but they were so pretty, adding more splashes of color to every street. We got a good amount of rain, but it held off when we really needed it to, like during the walking tour. We learned all about the history of Sevilla, learned funny legends that always ended in someone converting to Christianity. Sevilla is the most Catholic place I have ever been.

The hostel we stayed at, The Garden, was amazing. The employees were so interesting to talk to and very helpful, providing the walking tour and a tour of the city at night. They also had a paella (this amazing Spanish rice dish) and sangria night for just 6 euro, which was absolutely declicious. Most of the other food we had wasn´t very Spanish, but since we were on a different meal schedule than is customary in Spain, it was hard to find places open. Meals are much later here, approximately at 11, 3, and then 9pm. Nightlife doesn´t start until midnight and most places don´t close until at least 6am. Not that we stayed out that late! ;)

Yesterday we sadly left for the 6 hour busride to Madrid, in a surprisingly comfortable bus that provided more leg room than I´ve ever seen in a vehicle. Yeah, that was wonderful. We arrived in Madrid, met up with the guys I mentioned previously, and hit the town for dinner. This proved to be problematic. None of us know the area at all, and we wandered in the rain for a solid half hour before we found a place that was serving la cena, the dinner. We all had a good laugh there, because the man wouldn´t let us order from anything but the American food on the menu. I kid you not, we had fries, a hot dog without a bun, a hamburger without a bun, a fried egg, and a tomato. That was the dish. We figured he went into the back and scratched his head thinking what Americans eat. We just wanted paella!

It was fantastic to meet up with our friends. It really brightened up the trip for us, and we´re headed out in a bit to explore the city with them in the gorgeous sunshine outside. Finally, sunshine!

Mas de Madrid luego!

Spain!... Almost.

Okay, I broke my promise. I was only able to update one ONE of my big trips, but in my defense, it was finals week! We just finished our last final for Contemporary Irish Society. Now it is officially spring break, and I have two hours to shower, clean, pack for nine days, and then (after an annoyingly scheduled two hour meeting) I am flying off to.... SPAIN!!

Seville, Madrid, and Barcelona. I cannot wait. I'm especially excited to speak Spanish again, I feel like it's going to come back to me pretty quickly. Hopefully, I'll be able to update from internet cafe's around each city. AHH so much to do! I better get started!

Adios, mi familia. :)

John Ryan's Polka (The Final Jam Session)

To take a break from the trip updates, I'm going to write about the very bittersweet night I'm having. I am absolutely thrilled about the music class we just had, but so, so sad that it was our last one. Padhraic, our teacher, the most amazing bodhrán player I've ever seen, had a bunch of his musician friends come in so we could all have a jam session. There was Sheila, playing the accordion, Dervla, playing the fiddle, Michael playing the guitar, and then Padhraic himself threw around the bodhrán and his own little banjo-looking thing, leading every song. The rest of us played along on our bodhráns, sometimes with our tin whistles but that usually ends in catastrophe. We're all just in love with the bodhrán.

The first half of the class was spent mostly warming up and reviewing all the beats he taught us to different tunes, including reels, jigs, slip jigs, hornpipes, and polkas. Tonight was our seventh class, and we'd picked up a lot of really difficult rhythms. We were definitely ready for the session.

The best thing about Padhraic is how encouraging he is. Picture an adorable middle-aged man, humble as can be, but amazes us with his bodhrán playing when we beg him to play. As brilliant as he is, every time we would do anything, be it a slow hornpipe beat to a rapid polka, he would beam and say, "Brilliant!" or "Deadly. That's just deadly." And praise and praise us for how quickly we were picking it up. Certainly he's the reason we were any good- that kind of exaltation will make anyone feel like a bodhrán superstar!

The musicians tonight were amazing. They played together so fluidly, didn't have to name the tune, or really communicate with each other at all. Padhraic would just say, "Alright, the next one then, slow at first so they can run through it then we'll run the whole bit." And they would do everything in sync, perfectly. Their instruments spoke for them. They've been doing this for years, with and without each other, just entering a session and hoping the music just clicks. While I pretended to play the tin whistle, I watched them nod and interact with each other. It was such a great atmosphere.

We played along to everything, reels, jigs, hornpipes, and LOTS of polkas. On the bodhrán, polkas are VERY fast. My right hand is probably going to be really buff compared to my left. The acoustics in the classroom were surprisingly clear, and tune after tune resonated beautifully. I recognized every one of them from years of dancing and listening to it Sunday mornings in the kitchen at home. But speaking of dancing...

Padhraic had me jump up and do a reel. Wearing jeans was pretty rough, as was being over two years out of shape, but it was great fun to dance along to the musicians again. I also did a slow hornpipe, since I remember still my very favorite step from senior year; I just wish I had my hard shoes to show everyone the great rhythm! I wore my O'Dwyer sweatshirt- pride and joy of my life- to class tonight, not knowing I'd be representing the dance school even more than just wearing the paraphernalia. One boy in my class, Ryan, also plays the flute, and we got to listen to him show what he could do along with one of the polkas. The atmosphere felt very similar to that at the farm cottage on our Western Ireland trip; Padhraic was encouraging all of us to show off what we could do with the music. He really has a way of bringing it to life.

None of us wanted the class to end, but the fateful 8pm finally arrived. We finished up with a lively set of reels, banging away whatever rhythm we wanted on the bodhrán, and finished with one loud thrum.

Next, we all have to choose either Visual Arts or Theatre for the remainder of our semester here. I'm choosing Visual Arts in the hopes of learning about some great Celtic designs, but whatever we learn, and whoever instructs it, there are very large shoes to fill. Luckily we get to keep our bodhráns until the end of the semester, so when my family visits I'll be able to show off what I've learned.

(What I'm secretly hoping is that they'll be so impressed they'll buy me my own.)

Western Ireland

As I sit here in my room at DCU listening to Galway Girl, one of my new found favorite songs, it seems to be the perfect time to FINALLY catch up on weekend trips and daily life. As infatuated as I am with Dublin, I couldn't wait to explore other areas of Ireland and other European cities. These trips turned out to be even more incredible than I anticipated, each so unique and an amazing learning experience. For now, I'll start with the Western Ireland trip, because each weekend truly deserves its own book, let along its own blog post.

WESTERN IRELAND
Clare and Galway

We departed DCU by bus at 12:30 in the afternoon on Friday, the 29th of January. Caroline, my History of Ireland lecturer, gave a brief introduction to the tour and what was to come as we drove through Dublin city; she and her cousin, John, own their own tour company called MacCoole Tours, so as you can imagine she is an extremely talented tour guide, so knowledgeable about everywhere we went. The best part about their tours is the personal touch, but I'll go into further detail about that later.

The first day was spent traveling. The most notable thing we did was stop at a gas station, and watch Wedding Crashers on the bus, but excitement for what was in store kept us all from any prospect of sleep. We pulled into Ennis town in County Clare at about 5pm when we separated into rooms of six at the hostel. After a brief change of outfits (okay... perhaps not brief... but it was intended to be that way!) we all met in a big, dark wood room in the hostel where some young musicians played some traditional music. From there we were lead to the restaurant/bar, into a room entirely to ourselves, which was certainly a good thing for the rest of the people eating; thirty-odd Americans tend to be a boisterous bunch. At dinner, we met John, Caroline's cousin and fellow-tourguide, and Lughaidh (Louis), their friend who helps out with the company. Since Lughaidh is from Ennis, he lead us around that night on a tour/pub crawl through various streets in the town. We had a great time walking around the pretty streets and exploring the quaint pub scene; everyone in the dim-lit pubs seemed to know each other, and everyone was friendly. Everywhere we went, big or small, was a great atmosphere.

The next morning we awoke early, grabbed a slice of toast, and checked out of the hostel, departing Ennis at 9:30am. We were all pretty exhausted from the previous nights adventures, but as we drove on, the mood turned around. Without a doubt, this was one of the best days I've ever experienced.

The drive was very different from the previous day; everywhere we turned was scenic and absolutely beautiful, green hills and countryside for miles and miles. We gazed in awe at the scenery as we pulled up to the Cliffs of Moher, where we had a little over an hour to explore.

On the cliffs, you have two options; head to the right, and you'll ascend stone steps to the top of an absolutely breathtaking view; this is the route I took with my family six years earlier. Today, I wanted to take the more adventurous-albeit more dangerous- route, Go Left. The walk was stunning. Really, word's cannot describe it, and pictures barely do it justice.

The part that really took my breath away was beyond the point where one should go on the path; of course, almost every single student in my program that went left climbed over the stone wall to venture a little further, see a little more. We couldn't get enough of the view, and the further out we went, the more beautiful it became. Only three or four of us went out a few miles, but it was absolutely worth it. And for being forbidden, the path was pretty well traveled. Sometimes we basked in the moment together, and other times we silently agreed to take it all in alone, for a few minutes, climbing up at different speeds. It wasn't too windy, so I could distinctly hear the waves crashing 400 feet below. The drop was frightening, but stunning. The water was almost turquoise, and soon the sky cleared, turning a crystal clear blue, and the sun illumined the green hills further out. It was a scene of such breathtaking beauty that even remembering it now makes me feel at peace. Three of us, Marion, Colleen, and I, lay down on our backs on the grass near the cliff edge, at the furthest point we went out. I had never experienced calm that way; it was utterly quiet, with thousands of years of rock, grass, and ocean beneath us. We were half-covered in mud and couldn't care less. Marion and Colleen even rolled down one of the hills as I held their bags. The entire experience was a perfect balance of peaceful and liberating; we reluctantly headed back to the main area where, of course, a gorgeous flute was playing (a smart musician- knew just how generous tourists would be after experiencing the amazing cliffs!) and again assembled on the bus to continue our journey at noon. We drove through the Burren listening to Caroline's historic commentary. The landscape reminded me a lot of a lunar scene, just gray rocks everywhere you looked.
We arrived at the Connolly farm- John's grandparents farm, actually- at 1pm, stomachs grumbling. Most of us burned through that piece of toast pretty quickly running around on the cliffs and were ready for a good meal. But there was one obstacle- a mountain.

John met us again at the farm where we were toured around the barn. The cows were HUGE! And very shy- some animal lovers tried to pet them, and they shied away pretty quickly. The strong scent of silage was somewhat overpowering, so the barn tour didn't last too long. Outside, we all gazed at the large Burren mountain just beyond the farm, not knowing that in just a few minutes, we would be climbing it.

John lead us up a grass field and began to climb up the stones, stopping every once in a while to give us a brief bit of history or information about farm life. Now, imagine about forty city-kids hiking up a mountain; it was about as comical as you can imagine. Most of us climbed slowly, rock to rock, dumbfounded at how high and far he was taking us. "We're not stopping yet!?" John made us feel a bit worse when he told us that the cows make this journey multiple times a year.

At one point, he stopped at a small tree that had countless bits of cloth tied to its branches; he told us that it was customary to tie something to the tree to leave a problem behind. This custom is shared by many different cultures, he said, naming countries all over the world that shed their problems in a similar fashion, using a tree. How cool is that, unrelated cultures all sharing the same custom? It says something about human nature. Particularly that we take a lot of our problems out on trees. I tied my elastic band to a branch. I'm not sure what problem I was leaving behind, but I figured the tree would know which one to take care of.

Onward we climbed, exhausted, and hungry. But as we hiked higher and higher up, we were awarded with a spectacular view of the countryside, like a green quilt, a beach and the ocean in the distance. I thought I'd had my fill of beautiful scenery that day, but I was wrong. Finally, we reached the highest point, and John lead us down a much easier, grassy decent, back to the farm cottage, where a meal awaited us- a purely homemade farm lunch of the most delicious chicken and vegetable quiche, potato and pasta salads, brown bread, and apple pie. Everything was cooked by John's mother from ingredients grown/produced by the farm. After a day of climbing cliffs and a mountain, it was the most delicious, fresh, and satisfying meal I've ever eaten.

Afterward, they offered us Irish coffees and we packed ourselves into a cozy room where two of Caroline and John's neighbors, ages 11 and 16, played some traditional music for us on the fiddle and accordion. We took turns singing, starting with some traditional Irish songs, and then going on to sing anything we all knew the words to. It was great fun; I whipped out Molly Malone again, and this time everyone knew when to sing along at the chorus. The best was the "Four and Nine" song that one of the neighbors sang; to this day we still sing that song together. I also did a reel for everyone as the boys played, completely made up on the spot of course, and I'm sure nothing to write home about, but it was great fun to show everyone what I could do, and just to dance to live music again.

We left the farm and arrived in Galway city at about 5:30pm. After checking into our next hostel and taking a much-needed nap, we changed for dinner and a night out in Galway, which was GREAT fun. Earlier, Caroline introduced us to the song Galway Girl on the bus, played it for us and printed up lyric sheets, so we took it on as the song of the trip, singing what lines we knew and humming the rest. But that night, one girl, Meghan, actually got the band that played at the first pub we were at to play Galway Girl and dedicate it to the Americans; even if it was just the group of us cheering and singing along, it was still incredibly exciting when we heard the first few notes of it play. Now, we can sing every word.

The next morning was an adventure. The six of us in the room awoke at about 9:30 but stayed in bed just talking and laughing until suddenly, Colleen remembered she had read on the door that on the day you check out, you had to be out of the room at 10:30. It was 10:17. We all shrieked and leaped out of bed. Our clothes were everywhere, items missing, makeup and toiletries littering the sink. It was utter chaos. But we were champs; an impressive fifteen minutes later, we were dressed, packed, and ready to rock. Missing money, phones, and jewelry were found, and we checked out just five minutes late. I still have no idea how six girls managed to do that without someone getting seriously injured.

We had until 1pm to explore Galway city, so we grabbed a delicious breakfast in a coffee shop and walked around the beautiful streets, poking into different shops and experiencing Galway city during the day. I wish we had more time, and definitely hope to return someday.
The final stop of the tour was Clonmacnoise, an old monastery ruin in County Offaly. After watching the not-quite-cinematic masterpiece of an audio/visual about the history, we explored the old ruins for a bit, basking in the glorious sunshine that topped off the final day of our tour beautifully. I loved the Celtic crosses everywhere.

Our arrival in Dublin city was the first (and to this day still the last) time I was disappointed to be back. As exhausted as I was, I had fallen in love with Western Ireland, and wished for one more day to explore a new county, a new city. I can't wait to go back. We all joked about living there someday, but for me, I'm not sure how much of that was a joke. :)