The Revenge of Galway Bay, Oysters, and Giant Willies

This morning I get a facebook message from Jenn asking if I wanted to go up to Salt Hill again with her. Sounds like a good time so I decide to go We first walk to the farmer’s market in downtown Galway, and I buy a crepe with butter, sugar, and lemon, on it. I try to get crepes every chance I get since they're not as common in the US. We walk through the city part to Salt Hill rather than taking the more scenic route by the water. We sit on this atrium like seating and do some of our reading for class. Near us a younger guy in a swimsuit-thong runs into the water after being encouraged by his friends. One of his friends threw some change in front of us so the thong man could lean over and pick it up. Wasn’t the most pleasant view of my life to say the least. We want to jump off the diving station, but the tide is too low so we decide to go into a café and wait until three o’clock. We both ordered tea and I read from the Dubliners. Very much a Debbie-Downer book. At three o’clock we walked back to the diving platforms. We saw people swimming in the water and even some jumping off he platforms, so we knew we had to do it. We decided to go one at a time, both so we can take pictures and to be able to guard our stuff. Jenn went first and she tried to tell me that it wasn’t that cold. I knew she was fibbing for my sake because she was shivering. I stripped down to my swim suit and shakily made my way up the diving platform. The splash from the waves hit me as I climbed up, and I was having severe second thoughts. But I got up there and tried to calm myself down. I didn’t dare to look over the edge because I knew I wouldn’t do it if I did. I didn’t give myself enough time to think about it before running off the platform. It felt as though I was flying before I plunged into the freezing water. Kinda like the Titanic, poor Jack... There were a few seconds when I thought I wouldn’t make it out because the cold made it difficult to breathe and to move my arms and legs. But as you can tell by my writing this (unless I’m writing it from the great beyond oooOOOooo) I did make it out just fine. I was gasping for air and Jenn said my lips were blue, but the adrenaline rush was so worth it. I mean I would never do it again, but it was definitely worth it the one and only time. By the time I got home, I started showing very advanced signs of a cold, and couldn’t stop coughing or sneezing. Serves me right. I made myself some chicken noodle soup from a packet and stocked up on vitamin c. If juice is sold for 79 cents, don’t buy three. They’re going to be disgusting. This weekend was the Galway Oyster Festival. The actual festival cost 75 euro to participate in, but Mekala, Joe, and I thought we’d go into town around 8 and order some oysters at some restaurant. We went to a place called The Spanish Arch and ordered a dozen raw oysters to split between us. Neither Joe nor I had eaten oysters before, so Mekala showed us how it was done. After putting lemon and balsamic vinegar on the oysters, we swished them around with a fork to separate the meat from the shell. Then we clinked our shells together and swallowed the contents whole. It was pretty strange feeling but very tasty, and I kept getting shards of shell in my mouth. After the oysters we start walking back when Joe finds a large, inflatable willie sitting on the ground outside of one of the pubs. Of course we take it with us. We bring it into a Turkish sandwich and kabob shop where Joe orders a delicious-looking lamb burger. The workers were very amused by the giant willie, which we gave its own seat.

In Ireland, Guinness has its own Holiday

Today is Arthur Guiness Day, which is the celebration of Arthur Guiness’s birthday in 1759. To celebrate, people go out into the streets with a pint of Guiness and make a toast at 5:59 (17:59 in Irish time) and then drink for the rest of the night. I had class though, so I couldn't do this. Instead, Seamus makes me a Bailey’s coffee before hand and convinces me bring a can of his Guiness with me to my Creative Writing seminar class, so I can drink it afterwards on my way to town. Around 5:45, a German girl’s alarm goes off next to me and she pulls out a four pack of Guiness and asks if it’s okay if she drinks her toast to Arther at 5:59. The professor is completely fine with this so I pull mine out and the two of us make a toast and drink our beers in class. It felt pretty badass I must say. After class I exchange numbers with the German girl whose name is Lisa and who might actually be Dutch. I’m not really sure. I go into town and meet up with Emily and another American on the Frisbee team named Jenna. We go into the King’s Head where we only stay for a little bit since it’s packed. I’m feeling a bit tipsy from my Bailey’s and Guiness so I decide to wait till the next place to order a drink. I know that's not very Irish of me, but I wanted to enjoy the night without getting sick. We then go to a smaller place called Neactains. I order a pint of Bulmer’s and we go outside to sit under the awning because it is raining. We meet up with several other members of the frisbee team. Basically I'm an honorary member since I go to all of their parties. Emily and I go to the place nextdoor and order a slice of ham pizza to share because it smells so good from where we're sitting. We bring it back to the outdoor table where everyone is. After we finish, everyone goes to a pub called Kelly’s, where we spend the rest of our night having fun until it's time for beddy-bye. 

To the Capital!

Dublin is the capital of Ireland, and this weekend our group were eastern0bound to see what all the fuss is about. Our first stip was the GAA (The Gaelic Athletic Association) museum. We got to see the stadium and the wonderfully well-kept field where they play both Gealic Football (which is different from American and European football) and Hurling! This coming Sunday is the Gaelic Football championship match between Donegal and Mayo, so we weren't allowed to actually go onto the field. We did get to go up into the stands and were able to have a good view of the fields. We also got to see the locker rooms and where the teams get to eat. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world for me, since I don't really care about sports (excepting hurling), but out tour guide was really enthusiastic, so he made the information more compelling. There was also a station inside of the museum where I was able to actually try my hand at hitting a sliotar (pronounced "slither") with a hurley stick. As with all other sports, I wasn't very good at it.

The next place we went to was Kilmainham Goal (Jail), a place where people were imprisoned during the famine for stealing, and during the revolution for revolting. Fourteen leaders of the rebellion were executed at this jail, and for that they became martyrs. Our tour guide was really engaging, and was surprisingly very attentive to the needs of the people who did not speak English as their first language.

Our next destination was the Guinness Factory. For most people, this was the most exciting part of the trip, but for me it was just the third museum in a row, and I was kinda sick of the whole walking and reading thing. The free pint of Guinness on the top floor was well worth it though. They even made a touristy little shamrock design in the foam.

The top floor of the Guinness factory had walls made entirely of glass, so you could see out over the city. It was a great view, and a great drink. We then drove to our hostel, and on the way we saw a food fair in front of Christ Church Cathedral. After putting out stuff down in the hosetel, we walked over to the church. There were food stands for all different kinds of cultural dishes. I got chiken tikka masala, which was absolutely wonderful. It was interesting to eat food on the steps of a ruined part of the church. Felt very European. I also got a can of Pringles just for the hell of it. 

Later that night, I followed four members of our group and some random short guy named Will into the streets. I didn't catch the name of the first place we went to, but that's okay since I didn't much care for it anyway. The front room had a dj that was overwhelmed by the surging crowd shouting requests. The back room looked a little more promising. There was a stage with a drum set on it. I ordered a Bulmer's cider and asked the bartender if there was any music going on tonight. His reply shocked me. He said, "No, it's salsa night." Salsa night? In Ireland? I didn't know whether I should run while I could or stay to watch the train wreck. Since I had a drink in my hand I figured it would be best to stay. Sure enough, the drums were moved back to make room for another dj table. The salsa night was very awkward. For the first several minutes, there was no one on the dance floor. Eventually, a few brave couples shuffled onto the floor and danced to what I guess they thought was salsa. We left the bar shortly afterwards and went to another place called Fitzsimmons. It was five floors of bars and dancing. The top floor was a rooftop that they claimed to be heated, but people were still shivering with their cigarettes. Emily, Theresa, and I left Fitzsimmons to try to find somewhere with live music. We found a place called “The Auld Dubbliner,” which seemed like a good name for a place that would have traditional music. The second we walked in, however, the opening to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” began to play. We decided to stick it out, and went upstairs. I ordered another Bulmer’s, and we sat down in a booth. These two guys named Gavin and John, who had introduced themselves to Emily at the bar, sat down with us. They were two Irishmen who worked for eBay. They then preceded to play their own rendition of “good cop/bad cop.” Gavin, the good cop, is cheerful and somewhat oblivious in his drunkenness. He was born and raised in Dublin. He views it as the greatest city in the world and loves it with all his heart. John, the bad cop, has a very different point of view on the city. HE is on edge the entire time and apologizes continuously because he thinks Gavin is bothering us. He, like Gavin, was born and raised in Dublin. But he, unlike Gavin, thinks of Dublin as “a feckin’ leprechaun’s dream.” John then stood up, and to the great embarrassment of everyone within a 20 foot radius, has a temper tantrum and screams, “I feckin’ hate Dublin! All we do is DRINK! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!” He then sat down and chugs the rest of his drink. Poor, hypocritical soul. 

The next day, we then had a historical walking tour that started at Trinity College. It was more of us walking somewhere and then getting a history lecture before walking somewhere else and repeat. We got to see the city hall building, Dublin Castle (or what’s left of it), and the old Parliament building (which is now a bank). We then went to a food market where I got a lamb sandwich on cibbatta with mint sauce. It was really good, though I wished afterwards that I had gotten the horse instead of lamb. I’ve never had horse before and I hate horses (they smell terrible and their heads are as long as my arm). We went outside the Christ Church Cathedral where I did some more reading. We then went back to the food market to get crepes. We walked further into the city and saw the Spire of Dublin, which just looks like a random gigantic pin that is there for no reason. 

We saw a sign for the “Witch’s Attic” and I really wanted to check it out. What we didn’t know ahead of time was that we would have to climb up six flights of stairs to get to the small cramped store. It was an interesting store with naked lady tarot cards, Lord of the Rings DVDs, incense, and a cape. They had a guest book and I signed “Worth the walk up!” though my companions didn’t seem to agree with me. We went into a souvenir shop and I got some Christmas gifts for the family (which I won’t list here!). We were still pretty full from our crepes, but our group was going to see a play at 7:30 and we knew we would get too hungry if we waited till after the show. We went to a noodle shop across the street from our hostel called “Toki Doki”. I really enjoyed the name because I say "okey dokey" all the time. I split an order of spicy chicken noodles with Emily. 

We then went to the Grace Theater to see Oscar Wilde’s “A Woman of No Importance”. I really enjoyed nearly everything about the show. My one disappointment was that it was set in England so they used British accents and I wanted to see a play with Irish accents, since, you know, I’m in Ireland and all. After the show, people wanted to go back to the hostel to pregame. Emily, Theresa and I popped into a pub called Gypsy Rose along the river instead. It was a cool little pub, with band posters covering all the walls and the ceiling. There was a lone guitar player in the back, and we decided to base whether or not we stayed on the next song. He then started singing, “If I Only had a Brain” from the Wizard of Oz and I knew I had to stay. That was the last song I was expecting. Right out of left field. I knew then that we had to stay at least for a little longer. I ordered a pint of Bulmer’s and sat next to an older guy. He told me a joke involving my thumb and the Mayo Gaelic football team. I didn’t hear the punch line, which was probably better for my young innocent ears. Things were going great until the musician opened his mouth and said, “This next song is aboot…” Great. I find a Canadian when I’m looking for Irish music. Surprisingly we were saved from the Canadian by a Frenchman who encouraged us to chug the rest of our drinks and join him and his friends in going somewhere else. His name was Marcielle, or Marcel, or Marceau, or something along those lines. I couldn’t really read the inscription on the silver bracelet he showed me when I asked him his name. He and his friends didn’t really have a destination, so we wandered around a bit, took some picture for which Marcielle and one of his friends wanted to take their pants off. 

We eventually split from them and went into the Fitzsimmons, where we were the previous night. The two guitar players were looking for requests, and I loudly called out “Fields of Athenry”, which is a sad, sappy, national pride love song that everyone likes but no one admits to liking. I took out my phone and waved it over my head, rousing others to do the same. I then got the musicians to sing “Happy Birthday” to Theresa even though it wasn’t her birthday. She was lifted into the crowd and seemed to be having a great time. After hanging around Fitzsimmons for a while, we go out to wander and eventually find a pizza place where we grab a bie to eat before calling it a night.

For the final morning in Dublin, we had to wake up early. IWe went to a place where there were passage tombs: big mounds that were built before Stonehenge and the pyramids where they think people were buried. The passage tomb we saw was Knowth. We didn’t actually get to go inside, but the outside and the top were very pretty. Our tour guide was very cute and very clever. She talked about how the right wing of the tombs were where the important people were buried such as kings, queens, and tour guides. After Knowth, we went to an old monetary site called Clonmacnoise. It was very pretty and surreal, but other than that not much can be said about it that can’t be found on Wikipedia. Overall, although Dublin was fun. I prefer Galway much more. 

I Hate Bikes - A Visit to the Aran Islands

Today was the day of our first trip out of Galway, to the Aran Islands. More specifically, we were going to Inishmore, the largest of the three islands. Before leaving the flat to go to the predetermined meeting place, I took a Dramamine, since I knew there would be a two-hour bus ride and a one-hour ferry ride that quite possibly could be the death of me and my stomach. The bus we took was a double decker, and I was very excited to sit on the top. We drove through a beautiful country/seaside area that I think is Connemara, the part of Ireland that still speaks Gaelic, but I’m not sure. I took so many pictures of grass, rocks, water, and sky. That’s basically all Ireland is I've realized, but I love it anyway. Jenn was saying that she wanted to knock on the doors to the houses along the shore and say, “Hello good sir, are you married?” I think I would do the same. When we got to the ferry it was incredibly cold, both inside and out. I tried singing the chorus to "I'm on a Boat" over and over again to keep myself warm. The ride on the ferry was intense, and I was gripping the arms of my seat. There were several times I thought we were going to capsize it was so rough. But since I took the Dramamine it was kind of fun. It felt like being on the lurch part of a roller coaster over and over and over again. It started to rain while we were on the boat, but somehow it miraculously stopped by the time we reached the island. The part of the island were we docked was beautiful. A seaside town that was very small and very quaint. There was a café, a sweater shop (the Aran Islands are known for their sweaters), and several bike shops. The plan was to ride bikes to this old fort towards the center of the island. Seemed simple enough. The ride was supposed to last about a half an hour, but for me it was probably more like 45 mins. I thought I was dying. The road had so many hills and I can’t even remember the last time I road a bike before today. Years, and years, and years ago. The chain on my bike even came off at one point. I was the last one to get there, and professor Jenkins kept asking me if I needed a push. When we got to the base of the hill were the fort was located, we parked our bikes and had some lunch at a little café nearby. I got a scone with homemade raspberry jam. It was so delicious that I ended up getting a second one. We hiked up to the fort with a tour guide who never introduced himself. The landscape surrounding the fort was beautiful, and the fort itself was impressive with all of the layers of rock it took to build it. The fort was against a 245-foot cliff the dropped into the ocean. We all lay down on the cliff edge and stared down into the water.

I was dreading the bike ride back, but they told us we were taking the easier way back. I was fuming that they made us take the hard way at all, but apparently they wanted us to see more of the island. I think that’s a load of crap since I wasn’t able to appreciate the island with all of the stupid biking I was doing. But the road back was definitely a lot flatter, and I actually wasn’t the last one. I looked around the sweater shop to see if there were any I liked, but they were all much more expensive than the ones in Galway were so I decided not to get one that day. I slept on the ferry ride back, which was a good thing because apparently someone farther behind me got sea sick and puked in the aisle. It was clean by the time I woke up. When we finally got home, Mekala and I just popped a frozen pizza in the oven and called it an early night.

Free Pringles are the Best Way to Make Friends

My roommate Mekala had her friend Seamus spending a few nights at our place while he was in town. He is going to travel the world in the course of ten months, and he made Ireland is his first. Mekala had to write a paper, so I took Seamus with me and a girl from Hobart named Brittany to the Crane Bar. When we got to the Crane, it was an older crowd for sur,e but there were a accordion player and a fiddle player in the corner playing some good traditional Irish music. The three of us got drinks (I got a Bulmer's hard cider) and we listened and chatted. Afterwards, we went into a convenience store on the street for some reason I can’t remember. I saw a section of Pringles and I instantly knew that I needed some. We each bought a tube of Pringles and walked into town. We knew that we wouldn’t be able to get inside anywhere with our own food, so we just walked the streets and offered Pringles to everyone we saw. A lot of people either ignored us or said no and gave us a strange look. But there were some who were very excited about the idea, and after asking if they were drugged, happily took some and we would start a conversation. We met these two girls, Suzie and someone else, who decided that we were their new best friends. We walked together in a group, because they wanted to go to Carbon (a dance club) and we were going to start heading home both they were in the same direction. We got to Carbon and stood around for a bit talking and exchanging numbers with them. I ran into Marcus, a guy I met who showed me how to get to the Quadrangle on campus, and I gave him some Pringles. By the time we got home, our Pringles were gone, but it was a great way to spend a tube of Pringles. 

Ireland Bucket List

So here's a list of things I want to do before I leave Ireland. I'm sure I'll be adding more as time goes by :)

• Pet a sheep
• Ride the mechanical bull at Coyotes
• Drink Guinness 
• Find a four leaf clover
• Drink Absinthe
• Get a picture with Jenkins

Hurling: A Sport, Not Just What Americans Do After Trying to Keep Up With Irish Drinkers

Today was the day of the Hurling Championship Final, in which Galways was competing against Kilkenny! Now I (like you I’m sure) had no idea what hurling was before today. The best way I can explain it is that it is a combination of rugby, lacrosse, football, soccer, baseball, field hockey, and golf. And that it is freakin’ awesome. They only wear helmets, which was a rule instated only a few years ago. Other than that it’s just a ball, a combination lacrosse stick/bat, and a soccer goal/football post. The players get three points if they score it past the goalie in the net, or one point if they get it over the net and through the goal post. They can hold the ball for three steps, then they either have to cradle it in their stick or bat it to another player. I saw a guy take a hurling stick to the shin, no shin pads, and he just got back up and kept running. Now that’s manly. The group of us went to Monroe’s pub at one o’clock to get good seats for the game at 3:30. It's not as intense as our Superbowl, but more akin to the World Series, so we wanted to get their early. We were split between three tables and surrounded by two flat screen TVs. I sat next to two Irish guys named Chris and Kevin, who were explaining the rules of hurling. It seemed very complicated and very confusing to me, but they assured me that it would make sense once I started watching the game. At three o’clock, it was getting really crowded (thank goodness we got a table early!) and the TV station was playing highlights from the season. I decided that it would be a good idea to get a drink, you know, to get in the spirit of Ireland and all that stuff. I got a pint of Bulmer’s Irish Cider and returned to my seat. Once the game got started, everyone was immediately into it. Galway took the lead pretty quickly and there was nothing but cheers from the people in the bar. I got up and got a second cider after my first, and by the second half, I was really feeling it. When Kilkenny tied up the game, I slammed my fist against the table. Chris asked me, “Why do you care? It’s not even your country.” To which I heartily proclaimed, “I would die for Ireland!” much to the laughter of those around me. The second half ended on a tie, and all of the Americans were pumped up for overtime. However, much to our dismay, they Irish don’t do overtime for some reason. Instead, the next game would be held in three weeks, and we’d have to wait till then. Go Galway!!

P.S. If anyone is interested in seeing what all the fuss is about, the full game can be found here!

The Shockingly Cold Galway Bay

Today, we planned to take a hike to Salt Hill, which was, from what I gathered beforehand, a beach a little ways past the heart of the city. Around 1:30, we met with those who wanted to go and began our trek into town. We went through the farmer’s market and met up with two others before continuing. The farmer’s market was so cute, so I made a vow that I would get up early and explore it next weekend. Luke bought Moroccan olives from the market and offered me some. I thought they were really, really good which was surprising since I’ve been claiming to not like olives my entire life. The walk to Salt Hill was the same as the walks I’ve been taking past over the past week to the lighthouse and the rocks, just a little farther. We ended up in another part of the city on the coast. We asked an old man where we could find Salt Hill, and he told us that we were already there. I was expecting more of nature-y, actually a hill type of place, but I liked what I saw. We went to this area that had two diving boards over the ocean. Several of us decided that we wanted to go. Luckily I was wearing leggings under my jeans since I'm always cold, so I could just take my jeans off to go in. We were all lined up by the diving board, but were unsure as to whether or not we should go in. An older man told us that it was too shallow to jump in. We were pretty disheartened and thought about just coming back another day when someone in our group just ran down the stairs and jumped in. The rest of us quickly assembled into a line and followed suit. As soon as my feet touched the water I turned to Emily and said, “I don’t wanna do this anymore!” and she replied, “Just go!” And so I went. It was so very cold. I think I went into shock. I kept saying “Oh my god!” over and over again and forgot to breathe. We swam out to the little raft deck and climbed on top to catch our breaths and declare our victory. 

The water actually wasn’t that bad when you got used to it, but it was still pretty awful. We all jumped off the raft and swam back to shore to change and warm up. My lips were purple. I had to go commando under my jeans, which wasn’t very pleasant, but probably better than wearing soggy undies. We stopped for ice cream on our way back, and I got a kid sized vanilla soft serve with lime sauce and flake. Flake is a layered chocolate stick that they put in ice cream and hot chocolate. It was very tasty though people made fun of me for getting lime sauce which they thought was gross, but what do they know anyway.

Registration Hell

I realized that the American Dream is not money or power, or even freedom or happiness, or anything like that. The American Dream is convenience. In order to register for the one English seminar class that students are allowed to take, I had to go to the Bailey Allen Hall at 11 o’clock to sign up. Seems simple enough, right? Except that it was first come first serve, which complicates everything. I showed up to the place at 8:15 in the morning, almost three hours before registration, and there was already a line of at least 50 people in front of us. The people from the college even set up rope barricades to distinguish the line. I alternated between dozing off or watching the bewildered look on people’s faces as that walked in and realized that they had to wait in such a long line, and that they probably would not get the class they wanted. It was actually quite entertaining. You could just see their smile drop and all the color drain from their face as they realize the end is nigh. The line went down to the end of the hall and then wrapped back around. Needless to say, I did end up getting the very last spot in the seminar class I wanted, Creative Writing, so I guess it wasn’t all a waste. Though it was absurdly inconvenient.  

A Real Irish Experience

So I've been in Galway for a little over a week, and I absolutely love everything about it. But the 5th of September has stood out  as being my favorite day so far. I sat by the river off of Galway Bay reading my book "In Search of the Craic" for my Irish Music class. It was a beautiful day. A little ways down from me were two guys playing the guitar and singing. I stopped my reading to listen and watch them for a while. I think one of them might have noticed because as I went back to my reading, he came over and asked me if I would like to play something. I told him I didn’t know how to play the guitar and he said how about singing. I was a little nervous about it, but he said he would sing something and I could sing along. We sang Johnny Cash’s song “Hurt” (kind of depressing but it was still a lot of fun). The guy who asked me over, the one who I sang with, his name was Finn. His friend’s name was Billy, and Finn obsessed about how sexy Billy’s hair was and how he wish he could have dark shaggy hair instead of blond, curly Irish hair. An older guy  joined us. His name was Luciello and he was an Italian who had lived in Galway for nine years. They were all drinking beers (mind you this is two in the afternoon), rolling their own cigarettes, and passing along the guitar between them. It was a lot of fun just sitting and chatting and listening to them. Luciello even made up a song about me because it was such an unusually nice day. The song went, “Carla you bring the sun to the Irish skies.” It was wonderful. As we sat they were clearly getting more and more drunk. But it was a good Irish experience. Two homeless guys came up and joined us, drinking a bottle of something from a paper bag. One of them told me how three years ago he was on his way to getting a medical degree but then he started liking beer too much and now lived on the street. Luciello made me take his phone number and said he had an extra room if I was ever in a bad situation. It was a little creepy but I could tell he meant well. Finn, who claimed he was 24 but I thought he looked more like he was 28, was the one who talked to me the most and tried to get my attention every time he played or sang something. He tried playing songs that I knew, or very traditional Irish songs so I could hear what they sounded like. He sang Green Day, Oasis, The Pogues, and even some originals. He said that his favorite subject when he was in school was also English. At one point we were tell jokes and he said, “Knock, knock” and I said, “Who’s there?” and he said, “Will you go out with me?” and I, not knowing what else to do, said, “Will you go out with me who?” and he said, “You” and I said, “That’s not a very funny knock knock joke” and let it drop. Around five o’clock my friend Emily joined us. Luciello was being a bit over the top by this point and singing loud and obnoxious songs. But it was still fun. We found out that Finn had a four-year-old son. First time I’ve ever been asked out by a guy with a child. Around 5:30 the group of guys left to go to a party, to which Emily and I politely declined. It was so much fun sitting with them and getting a real Irish experience, but I felt that going anywhere with them would be a bad idea. I will still remember that great afternoon for the rest of my life, and I also got a sunburn from it.