Long Island Summer

Two weeks ago I stepped off a plane in JFK, and ended what were arguably four and a half of the most amazing months of my life. I didn't have some master "this is what I'm going to do when I get home" plan. In all honesty, the whole trip home was a bit numbing. Its taken me two weeks, but I think I'm finally warming up to NY again. Don't get me wrong, I miss Ireland like none other, but one way or another we are always tied to the place we started out from. It is louder, faster, and more chaotic here, but with all things we find our ways to adjust. For the moment, I am laying low and getting back into the swing of another summer on Long Island. The heat, the traffic, the long hours at work. Back to the grind, but one that I have missed. These hands can only stay idle so long before I become restless. At the moment I am unsure of the future of "The Pilot's Guide", though I will tell you this is not the end of my dive into the blogsphere. The next project is in the works, but the idea remains the same: an attempt at understanding a perspective on the world. To all those who have followed along, I hope you have enjoyed the ride and found some of this worthwhile. As always, more stories to come. Cheers.

We Saw the Western Coast

A few months ago, Eoin approached me with the brilliant idea to cycle the west coast of Ireland. I was immediately keen on the idea, as I had been riding almost every day since January. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my last week in Ireland, especially since our route would take us to towns and areas I had not yet visited. On recommendation from one of Eoin's mates, our original route was to start in Galway and ended up in the north, in County Donegal. A few weeks before we left this changed to going as far north as Killala and riding back to Galway. On Day 3 our route further changed, as you will read, but all told it was an epic experience. By the time we headed out for Galway on the 17th our gang included Eoin, two Canadians Laura and Brendan, and Maarten, from the Netherlands. The following is the gist of what happened along the way.

Day 1 - Galway to Aran Islands

Following a great night out in Galway with Bridget, we headed to West Side Cycles to pick up our rides for the week from the shop's owner, Alan. Pannier bags loaded, we set off out of Galway east towards Rossaveal to catch the Aran Island ferry. Decent pace in the on and off rain, through I did have a bit of gear trouble early on. On arrival to the island, first stop was the hostel to get rid of the gear. The weather remained overcast and rainy, but we decided to cycle the island as best we could anyway. The main point of interest was Dún Aonghasa, an ancient fort situated on the edge of a cliff along the south western coastline. Stopped for soup and brown bread at the base of the hill before venturing up to the cliffs in the pouring rain. You can literally stand right on the edge looking over the Atlantic, about 100meters up... totally liberating feeling. The ride back into "town" was a bit annoying as the downpour continued, but a hot shower cured that problem. Finished out the day with a home cooked dinner and a few rounds of cards and headed to bed exhausted.

Day 2 - Aran Islands to Letterfrack

8:15am ferry back to the mainland, left the island in a beautiful early morning mist. Picked up the R335 headed north out of Rossaveal and then turned east along the R340. If you consult a map there are a few coastal loops in that area leading up to Clifden. We meant to cut out the first loop but misread our map and did the first one. Stopped in Cill Chiarain, then continued south along the coastal road, ultimately turning north again along the western side towards Cashel. Picked up the R342 out of Cashel heading west to cut across the second coastal road. Seriously, it was the middle of nowhere. Nothing but sheep along the one lane, at times unpaved road across a landscape dotted by small lakes and rolling hills. We emerged from the isolation in Ballinaboy and headed north again. Bit of an uphill battle the last 3km into Clifden where we stopped for lunch. Unfortunately it was too late in the day to do the sky road, so that will be saved for another adventure. Took the N59 up to Letterfrack, mostly uphill it felt like. 75km total for the day I think. Letterfrack Lodge was amazing, and definitely worth the stay if you're in the area. Another great home cooked meal followed by a pint at Molly's, the single pub in town. Also met a Canadian girl at the Lodge who is traveling around Ireland. Finally got around to making up our pinnies, 2.50euro tank tops, or singlets as the Aussies call them, from Dunnes. I was appointed "Gramps", Eoin called "Glumpy", Maarten, quite naturally, "The Flying Dutchman", Brendan (no surprise) was given "Boy" and Laura, the only girl in the group, took the name "Her". Good craic, great day all around.

Day 3 - Letterfrack to Westport
Started the day with a coastal road called the Connemara Loop. Gorgeous beach views along the northern part of the road. Met up with the main road again, the N59, and cycled east along the Killary Fjord, supposedly the only real one in Ireland. We turned around at the bottom of the fjord in Leenaun and headed west again along the opposite side. The R335 turns north and inland at Lettereeragh, which we followed till we found the "Lost Road", as described to us the the Letterfrack Lodge owner, Matt. This lost road seems appropriately named, as it really is just a single lane road pass between two large ridges. The climb was tough in the hot Ireland sun (yes, it really was hot), but the remote beauty was worth the struggle. I think we saw two cars the whole time. The road spilled out in Liscarney where we picked up the N59 again for the last 8 or so km north into Westport. The town itself is worth a visit it seemed from the view hours we were there. We stayed at the Old Mill Hostel, great accommodations. Had my gears looked at by the local mechanic, an older gent by the name of Mr. Salmon. We also made the decision to skip out on going to Killala, as we realized it was alot further away then we first thought. The night after Achill Islands would be spent in Castlebar. That evening we paid visit to Matt Malloy's, a pub named for and owned Chieftains flute player Matt Malloy. At one point the bartender drew our attention to an old painting of the Chieftains, pointed at the figure second from the right, then to the bald, white bearded gent sitting on a stool at the other end of the bar. Mr. Malloy had aged a bit since that painting was done, but it was still brilliant to see the famous musician in his own pub. Too bad none of us had the guts to go up and say hello...

Day 4 - Westport to Achill Islands

Felt a bit raw in the morning after the previous evening's pints, but the sunshine and fresh air cured the feeling relatively quickly. First leg of the day was a 11km sprint north to Newport, which we covered faster than expected. Out of Newport we turned west again and picked up the Green Mountain Way, a bike path that parallels the main road along the coast. Getting away from the cars was a nice change of pace and made for some excellent riding. Still hot under the beating Irish sun. 18km later the trail ended in Mullarrany, where we continued along the R319 out to Achill Sound, the first town across the bridge on the Achill Islands. Our ultimate destination was Keel, a beach town 14km further west. Big uphill leading up to an amazing downhill into the village. A mountain ridge and lake bordered one side of the long flat stretch into Keel while a beach bordered the other. Brilliant. Keel has great surfing beaches and is a km away from the third tallest cliffs in Europe (yes, its true, the Croaghaun Cliffs stand at 668 metres above sea level). Our gig for the night was the Richview hostel, basically an old house up the street from the beach. After dropping our bags we headed down to the beach. The water was far to cold for swimming, in my opinion, but Brendan took it upon himself to show us up and run headlong into the waves in his boxers. Brave soul. Met an old man walking along the beach who chatted us up for awhile, as well as a couple who had seen us riding into town. We asked if they knew a good spot to grab fish and chips, and made a phone call for us. Mind you, that was the 4th phone made by a random person on our behalf. Dinner was a bit pricey but totally delicious, and was followed with a few pints at the one pub in town, the Menawn View Bar. The place had a total Sinn Fein/Republican vibe, clearly evident in the posters and pictures hanging on the walls. It was still light out when we arrived (it stays light till 10:00pm easily this time of the year), so it was cool to sit in the pub and look out across the street to the beach and the cliffs as the evening mist rolled in. Brendan again impressed us with a bit of improv tin whistle playing with a few old men who brought down a guitar and an accordion. Brilliant evening all around.

On the Green Mountain Way

Day 5 - Achill Islands to Castlebar

Saturday dawned beautifully, and there was serious talk about giving up Castlebar and staying another night in Keel. Sunshine, beautiful beaches... how could we possibly leave! The idea was scrapped based on the logistics. It was strange to think Achill was the furthest we would come on the trip and for the most part would be riding back towards Galway the rest of the time. The great turning point if you will. Reluctantly, we pedaled out of Keel the same way we rode in the day before, and ran into a Canadian couple at the top of the hill. They were also on a cycling trip and suggested we ride part of the Atlantic Drive, the coastal road around Achill (we had ridden into Keel via the inland road). The entire thing would have easily added 25km to the day, so we decided to do part of it. Best decision we could have made. Ending up on a set of cliffs on the south side of the island that rivaled the Cliffs of Moher easily. Do check out the pics. Leaving the cliffs, made our way back to Achill Sound for a quick bite to eat, then on to Mullaranny again. Decided on the mountain way trail again to avoid the cars on the main road, and we again tackled the 18km to Newport in a breeze. Really warm out again. From Newport the fastest way to Castlebar was the main road, which was mostly uphill but not terribly busy. The hostel in Castlebar was among the sketchiest I've ever seen, so please, don't ever stay in the Castlebar Holiday Lodge. We made up for it with an excellent dinner at the pub called Bosh, recomended by Eoin's mate from the town. Burger with Pineapple and Bacon, followed by apple crumble with ice cream. Beyond words. Watched InterMilan take down Bayern Munich, much to my disappointment. Called it an early night, and slept like babies in spite of the strangeness of the hostel.

Day 6 - Castlebar to Cong

Without a doubt one of the best days of the tour, as well as one of the shortest/easiest distance wise. With an eye for hightailing it out of Castlebar as fast as possible, we hit the road around 8:30am. Sunday morning meant few cars and we cleared the 35km or so to Cong by lunch time. Cong is a small town located between two lakes, Lough Corrib and Lough Mask. The main point of interest is the Ashford Castle, one of the most famous small hotels in Europe. Cong Abbey is also there. The town itself is rather small, with a Spar being the only establishment open to buy groceries for dinner. The hostel for the night was a combination caravan/camping/hostel type setup, run by a few really awesome folks. We ended up having two rooms on the second floor of a house on the property next to the main building. The receptionist didn't want us to be kept awake all night by the pack of 70 thirteen year old boys who would be staying the night in the main building. After dropping the bags, we headed to the Ashford Castle and cruised around the grounds for awhile, ending up down by the lake. Brilliant swim on a hot day. After the swim we headed into town to pick up dinner, with an eye for making use of the charcoal grill we saw behind the hostel. With limited options, we settled on two rib racks, a mess of sausages, and tons of veggies and potatoes. Add in a few beers and a bottle of wine, and needless to say we had a stellar evening. Good craic watching the 13 year olds cause chaos around the property. Brilliant.

Day 7 - Cong the Galway

Last leg of our journey. Managed to pull off making breakfast among the chaos of the 13 year olds again. Hit the road around 10, taking the R345 out of Cong along the lake , just skirting the edge of the hills that form Joyces Country. Passed through Cornamona and turned onto the mountain pass in the Leckurea Mtns at Maum. Big, gradual uphill, not something I overly enjoyed. Descended into Maam Cross and picked up the N59 heading east towards Oughterard. Realized by back tire was basically flat a few km. Maarten patched it up and we carried on, though a bit slower on my end. Stopped in Oughterard for lunch and carried on the last 20km to Galway. I couldn't wait to get back. We got into Gort Na Corbe around 3pm, an Emma (Bridget's roommate) was waiting for us with cold beers. Got the luggage sorted out and returned the bikes, and I headed into city centre to do some last minute souvenir shopping. Eoin cooked up one of his infamous curry dishes for dinner, and we sat outside quite content with our food and beers, satisfied with a solid week of riding. For the doubters, we got it done, even if it cost my knees. Around 10:30 we headed to the pubs, namely the Quays, one of the coolest spots in Galway right on Shop Street. A live irish band was on when we arrived, and was followed by a more modern act around midnight. Guinness, Bulmers Cider, and a glass of Jameson each... brilliant last night out in Ireland. Stayed till they escorted us out of the door at the 2am closing time. Walk back to the apartment was chaotic as per the usual, involving ending up in piles on the side walks, ripping pants, and stealing a massive street cone, thru which Eoin yelled all sorts of profanities. Passed out quite happy with ourselves, having lived it up as best we could.

End of the Road: Myself, Eoin, Maarten, Laura and Brendan back in Galway

Tuesday morning I got up early, walked across the street to get my last copy of the Irish Times, and enjoyed a quiet breakfast while everyone else stayed asleep. Around 9:30 my cab came, and with a few final farewells I headed to the bus station to catch my ride to the Dublin Airport. At 4:15 I boarded my Aer Lingus flight, and with that my four and a half months in Ireland came to an end. In no uncertain terms, what a brilliant ride it had been. Ireland, it was swell, and I'll be back soon. Cheers.

Photos from the Trip

What A Place to Find One's Divinity In

The beautiful element of human existence is the the struggle to make sense of experience, the inevitable conflict of emotion and desire intertwined in the things we see, the people we meet, the places we find ourselves in and at some point have to leave. There is so much to take in, more than one ever could, but in the end we do the best we can to somehow do it all. Far to often I drift off in thought and wish I'd gone to that city, had one more drink in that pub, or stood back and breathed it in a minute longer knowing I may not be back for quite some time, if ever again. For better or for worse, life is not designed like that. We cannot do it all, see it all, or always bring with us the people that somehow found their way into the corners of our hearts. In the final days and hours in this place, I find it incredibly hard to explain a thing; words fail to describe just how it feels. All I know for sure is that every so often life gives you a chance to step away from everything you thought you knew, everything that feels secure, and find out what its like to reach out and live an experience that forever changes your life. I must admit it will take a good deal of time to make sense of all this, if it ever fully makes sense at all. If you ask what I will miss the most, its not the cities, the pubs, the parks, or the so called historically significant monuments and statues dedicated to some figure of the past. I've grown fond of this place for the people I've met along the way, and the moments we've shared that can never be fully recreated. There is an inherit fault in trying to do something over again in hopes of feeling the way you did the first time around; the truth is that the moments we recall and value most are beautiful because there is no way to repeat them. We can only enjoy, learn, and hopefully in the end take away something that makes us more complete. I feel incredibly blessed for all that the last four months have given me, and will continue to give in various forms for a long time to come. I promise I will share more when the time is right, but for now I'm off to Galway with a few good mates for a week of cycling up the west coast into County Mayo before the last leg of my journey back across the Atlantic. Farewell Dublin, you have been brilliant. To all those of who share the joy and pain of these final words, I'll see you soon. The world is ours for the taking.

Sitges, es bien.

I've lost count of all the subtle differences in university life in Ireland, but the concept of a "revisions week" is certainly strange. A whole week to study for finals? In January it was immediately pegged as a week to get away at the end of the semester. Spring break part 2 if you like. I think I can safely say I made good on the idea. Next time you have a week off and some euro to burn, hop on a plane to Barcelona and make your way south to the seaside town of Sitges. Thanks in part to the brilliance of homeaway.com, Lauren, Catherine, Conor, and myself rented a castle tower looking apartment overlooking the Mediterranean for a week of some much needed relaxation. In all my travels thus far there has always been a sense of urgency to see all of these amazing things, and honestly I just wanted to get away and chill. Good food, cheap wine, and sitting on the beach all day... tough life right? My typical daily routine: wake up way to early, as I always do, feeling a bit raw from the night before. Pull on my boardshorts and have a cup of tea on the patio outside, soaking in some early morning sunshine. If I was feeling ambitious, a good walk to the supermercado to pick up some fresh ingredients for the day's meals, followed by a quick swim in the pool. Enjoy a breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheese and avocado, poured all over a fresh baguette. Grab some beers and head to the beach. Sit on the beach for hours, chill out in the water, and hope the Spanish nudists aren't up to anything weird. Another swim perhaps, and defiantly some wine, and its back to the kitchen to work on dinner. Enjoy a leisurely meal with a few more glasses of wine, have a few good chats, and watch the sun go down. Continue consuming wine, and at some point fall asleep to the sounds of the ocean. The best part about it: push repeat. I cannot remember the last time I've had so much time to straight up enjoy the simple things without having to worry about much of anything. Seriously I know its lame, but I'm obsessed with cooking... I don't think the others minded one bit. I grew rather fond of the wide array of fresh but cheap produce and foodstuffs at the market, and not enough can ever be said for the beauty that is a 0.95euro litre of Don Simon vino. I could have stayed for a month easily.From what I understand, Sitges was at one time an important fishing village, but is now mostly a resort town. There are many hotel looking structures along the water, but the actual town retains much of it's charm. Simply beautiful. Sitges is only a 30 minute/3euro train ride from Barcelona, so we did spend a day taking in the city. I know it is all hyped up, but the Sagrada Familia is truely impressive. The week went by all to quickly, but it was brilliant to step back and take a breather. Thank you to the mysterious apartment owner Ramon for the accommodations, and to Mr. Don Simon himself for providing the heavenly vino which was the catalyst of many a good conversation. I would also like to personally thank Mr. Kenrick for his excellent Spanish speaking skills, which proved both useful and rather hilarious. It all seems rather simple, but it was designed that way. Now its back to real life. In a week I will have all four finals under my belt, and I'm free to wreck havoc on Dublin for another seven days. Until then I'm committed to the books, but there is still more to come in this time that is running shorter than I'd like to admit. See you on the other side. Cheers.

Photos from Sitges

Pachuca Sunrise

Midnight on a beach in the Mediterranean
And I miss you, even here, taking it all in
The sand, silvered, carries the moon on it's shoulders
Is it possible to put this night to tune and move it to you?
Minus the Bear

Photos

When Friends Get Stranded

There is something to be said for making friends in random places, especially when you're stuck. Dear friend and fellow Fordham sailor Amanda Tooker had a flight out of Dublin back home to Alicante last Thursday, but in the wake of the airport closures could not get out until today. Sounds like a hardship, but seriously, can you think of somewhere better to be stranded for a week? Sunny weather, good friends to look after you, and an abundance of pubs to pass the time away. I capitalized on a day without classes and Amanda's ambition to take in some Irish culture with a visit to the Jameson Distillery yesterday afternoon. We figured Mr. Joe Sunfish himself would get a kick out of it, so we took the Fordham Sailing burgee along. In true Jesuit fashion, so well instructed in our semesters at Fordham, we gladly volunteered to partake in the whiskey tasting part of the distillery tour. Task: sample a measure each of Jameson, Scotch Whiskey, and Jack Daniels... compare and contrast, then pick your favorite. Obviously, you'd be a fool to pick anything other than Jameson as there is a clear sense of bias in the building. Three shots back and another round of drinks for the loyal taste testers... a worthy way to spend an afternoon stranded in Dublin. Dad, in honor of your favorite way to enjoy the good stuff, I had my Jameson on the rocks. Feeling the warmth of the sun and the liquor, we rounded out the afternoon with a pint at the Hairy Lemon. However, the day is not complete without a word of thanks to the study abroad office here at UCD for putting on a lovely farewell dinner and providing more wine than was good for any of us dumb Americans. Enough said on that topic. In other news, the planned security measures on campus for UCD Ball on Friday should be interesting. Stay tuned for that. Cheers.

Eyjafjallajokull... Sigur Ros or a Volcano?

We live in strange times; those of which have been recently marked with a multitude of random acts of mother nature. A volcanic eruption on a glacier in Iceland seems no closer than an earthquake in Asia, but this time I am feeling the effects. The eruption on Eyjafjallajokull Glacier is old news now, but this narrative would not be complete without it's mention. I will admit I was rather down about my trip to Scotland this weekend getting scrubbed in the wake of this ash cloud phenomenon, but far more grateful I am not to be stuck in another country with no way to get home. At the very least, it has renewed by interest in Icelandic natives Sigus Ros. Seriously, stop hating on Iceland and pop one of their gorgeous records on. The papers play things up quite a bit, but I've already heard a few first hand horror stories. Will airspace really open this week? And even if it does, how long will it take to sort this airline industry disaster out? The EU seems fragile enough, never mind this happening. The despair at cancellation past on Thursday evening, I told myself then and there I had to get out of Dublin and do something interesting this weekend in spite of "the weather." Feeling spontaneous, Brenna, Erin, and myself booked a hostel in Cork and B&B in Waterford for Friday and Saturday evening's and decided to make a trip of it. Low stress, beautiful weather, and good conversation. I couldn't ask for a better weekend to get away and clear the head. I'll elaborate more on Cork and Waterford shortly as well as post a few choice photographs. Back in the real world, I find it hard to even type these words: it's the last week of classes at UCD. Eleven weeks down, one week to go. Brilliant, terrifying, you name it. No doubt it will all keep me busy. Stranded friends spending a few extra days in Dublin, UCD Ball, a few more assignments, and, if the world gets back in order, Barcelona on Saturday. Strange times, but beautiful times. Stay tuned.

Cheers.

Pages, Well Worn

I apologize for the infrequency of posts as of late. The means of expressing the images and feelings simply ebb and flow in various forms. I recent days I have gone back to the trusted pen and paper, mainly out of fear for losing honesty. I will, however, remain committed to what I have started, namely a written and visual record of this unreal experience that has become day to day life. Looking for inspiration, this evening I picked up my well worn and loved, but lately neglected copy of the James Joyce classic that is Portrait of the Artist. For the hundredth time I read the words of Stephen Dedalus on the back cover:
"I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using my defense the only arms I allow myself to use – silence, exile, and cunning."
I'm not sure how many times I have reread this brilliant novel, but every time I do I cannot help but be moved by its honesty and genius. All things have a way of coming full circle. Cheers.

Easter in Áth Cliath

This one is for all the parents and relatives out there. Call me a traditionalist, but I cannot imagine Easter without family. Maybe it is all those years of Easter routines, the Good Friday services, the Sunday morning masses, or the colored eggs and kielbasa mom always cooks up after Church. Good news for me; my parents saw it the same way and decided to spend the holiday in Dublin. My parents, younger brother Dan, and grandma flew in on Saturday morning and I met the gang at their hotel in Ballsbridge. For the most part I have not felt homesick over the past few months, but it was damn good to see everyone. After a bit of downtime, we headed out to fulfill priority number one: a good meal and a Guinness at the Hairy Lemon, the last stop on our trip to Ireland back in 2006. I spent the rest of the day as semi tour guide, attempting to demonstrate that I know a thing or two about the sights and happenings of the city I've been living in for three months. We had a good run throughout most of the afternoon, and even made it down to UCD to see my pad, but it was not long until the jet lag started to set in and those nice hotel beds came calling. A relatively early dinner and bed was well deserved. Sunday dawned beautifully in Dublin as we gathered at the Church of the Sacred Heart in Donnybrook for mass at 9:30. Even Ardi couldn't help but come out to see what all the fuss was about. After mass we headed up to city centre to meet Una, a relative of ours from Cavan, and caught part of the parade and memorial service for the 1916 Easter Rising. The day was dedicated to family, great food, and equally good conversation in a variety of eating and drinking establishments around Dublin. On the wishes of grandma, on Monday we ventured down to Wexford to discover some family history. Our destination was a church in Castlebridge, a small town with a one pub and a convenience store a mile up the road from the town of Wexford. My great grandfather (grandma's dad) was baptized in the church and she wanted to show us the baptismal records. Given that it was a holiday, I was not surprised when we found no one home at the rectory. The church, however, was open and gorgeous inside. We could not find the records, but at least we found the spot, arguably the spot where it all (or at least part in my case) of it began. I think a Wexford GAA jersey is in my near future. It was quite literally blowing a gale in Wexford but we still spent a bit of time meandering around the town. The bus back to Dublin was packed with UCD students, an unfortunate reminder that I had work to get done that evening for the coming academic week. Following a beer with the family at the hotel, I left them to their own devices to go for dinner in city centre and headed back to normal life for a few days. They are headed out to Galway until Thursday evening, as we did not get up that way the last time around. Dan is spending two nights with me at the end of the week when they get back and I have a great day lined up for Friday. As always time is flying by, but I guess we make the most of it. Cheers.

Dockside in Wexford

additional photos

The World We Know

When Ace Enders released a self titled solo album under the name I Can Make A Mess Like Nobody's Business in 2004, I honestly thought that a follow up was impossible. I Can Make Make A Mess would stand in time as a record of epic proportions, fifteen songs full of depth and introspection that I had a hard time putting down. The record was distinctly Ace, but in way different from any previous Early November release. With the breakup of the Early November in 2007, I wondered what would come next for a musician and songwriter who had been such a part of my formative years in developing a love for music. The answer came temporarily with the Ace Enders and a Million Different People project, though Ace has now returned to the I Can Make A Mess name. The World We Know was released on March 23rd and is rumored to be the first of three releases over the next year. In my mind, the album marks a return to the basics, with a heavy dependence on Ace's acoustic influences I've come to love. Understanding a bit of the history surrounding the Early November helps appreciate the tracks a bit more, but in general if you want an honest and down to earth record give this one a spin. Check out I Can Make a Mess Like Nobody's Business on myspace.

Gleann Dá Locha

A brief walk outside is all it takes to realize that spring is upon us in Ireland. Fully recovered from spring break travels and a brief battle with some unknown sickness, the weather this weekend gave me all the more reason to get out and do things. As Belfast proved a few weeks back, one of the perks of these study abroad programs is the occasional free day trip. On Saturday I joined in on the Study Abroad Office day trip down to Glendalough, which is an hour or so southwest of Dublin in County Wicklow. Gleann Dá Locha, or the Glen of Two Lakes, is famous for its 6th century monastic settlement. This once thriving settlement was a center of Catholicism in the early middle ages and is complete with many traditionally Irish symbols, including a circular tower and many Celtic crosses. While I will skip the majority of the boring history lesson, I will say that from a religious perspective the significance of the sight made it worth the trip. The area around Glendalough is also known for its two lakes, upper and lower. You probably could have guessed that one. The woodlands around the lakes are crisscrossed with footpaths and make for excellent hiking. Following a short introduction about a few of the remains within the settlement, our guide took us for a hike into the valley to check out the lakes and take in a bit of nature. Personally, getting out of the city was a much needed and refreshing change of pace. Clean air and sunshine are rather conducive to clearing the mind. All told, a worthwhile day trip in my opinion.

View of the Round Tower

Sunday was also a great day to get out and soak in some sunshine. I know I've talked about riding up to Phoenix Park for the better part of two months, so this time I can finally say I've accomplished my goal. With the remains of a vicious hangover quickly fading, Ardi and I hit the road and made our way up past St. Stephens, around St. Patrick's Cathedral, across the Liffey and into the park. We were far from alone in our desire to enjoy the weather, evident in the masses roaming around the park and the various athletic events taking place. Sunny skies, a bit of soccer and good conversation; can't ask for anything more on a Sunday. After a solid ride I'm starting to think that maybe I can handle a bike tour after all. Looking ahead, Monday means family dinner night and hopefully booking our revisions break trip. At the moment it looks like we're heading to the Canary Islands, but we shall see. And yes, I promise I will get to mass during Holy Week.

Photos from Glendalough

Photos and Reflections

It is often long after a moment is passed that its meaning comes to light, if it ever does at all. I find that seeing so much in such a short time has its tendency for pitfalls; things simply start to blur. The statues, the bridges, the nights spent in bars. Except for the moments. In the week since I have returned from my trek around Europe, this is how I have come to make sense of it all. I promise that when the demands of life subside a bit and I can properly describe the little details I will. Until then, I want to leave you with a few thoughts from "spring break". That is an odd term for me really, since I am almost positive the first thing most think of is a cold Corona on an island beach. Regardless, as you know our trip covered five cities in three countries, none of which I had ever previously visited. Of these, Paris and Rome seem to stick out in my mind. I was surprised how much I enjoyed Paris, as it was not on the top of my priority list of things to visit. There are an overwhelming number of things to see in Paris, as there are in most cities. However, that is not what stood out to me. If I had to pin it down, the afternoon we spent wandering along the Seine River without a proper destination in mind was most enjoyable, as was the late night spent in the streets of the Bastille area looking for a bar. Moving onto Venice, what they say is true: there is nothing like getting lost in Venice. I have no idea how far we walked in single file through the cities maze of little streets and canals but I cannot complain; it was simply breathtaking. I can hardly forget the snow that greeted us in the early morning when we arrived in Florence, or the kindness of the women at the hostel who let us check in early and sleep for a few hours. Though I admit I suffered through my semester of Art History last fall, the knowledge came full circle when we visited the Galleria dell'Accademia to see the works of Michelangelo, Brunelleschi and Donatello, among others. Professor Meadows-Rogers, I hope I made you proud. Next stop on our whirlwind tour, in the words of Phoenix, Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome. I've been told you cannot discover it all in a life time, and all I had were two days. The Vatican and the Colosseum were stunning, though both were honestly not as impressive as I had imagined in my mind. Again, to pick a moment, sitting on the Spanish Steps on Friday morning watching the world go by. The hectic scramble to the airport that ensued in the wake of the transit strike also made for a good story, though not as lovely as the Rome skyline in the early morning sun. Compared to the relative warmth and beauty of the Italian peninsula, Prague was a bit of a shock. It was certainly the most foreign feeling place we visited, in my mind anyways. The sun stayed away most of the weekend and left the city with a gloomy and oppressive feeling. I do not think I ever felt truly comfortable. Regardless, the architecture was stunning and gave off that Eastern European vibe. After a week of intense sight seeing it was nice to kick back and enjoy our time in Prague without any pressure to go out and see things. Was it the highlight of my trip? No, but you cannot put a price on time spent with good friends. You can try and try to see it all, but at the end of the day who you are with is just as important. There is so much to take away from this trip and so much more I want to see, but if I discovered anything significant it was that feeling I had when I stepped off the plane again in Dublin Airport: it was good to be home. Sure, over the previous ten days I had visited a few of the most historic places in the world, but I was overwhelmed with a sense of how much I love this Island. I guess it is safe to say I picked the right place to study, and there has got to be something in that. To get right back in the swing of things, we had a day to rest before St. Patrick's day and I think you can take a guess what happened next. I'll save that for another day. As always I keep counting my blessings and forging ahead. We are small pieces in an ever changing, yet ever beautiful world. Cheers.

Window shot, Prague Castle

Hey...It Just Feels Better

After 12 days, 5 cities, 4 flights, 2 trains, and more stairs climbed and delicious food consumed than I can recall, I'm back where I belong in the beautiful land of shamrocks and green. I promise I will attempt to describe all I have seen over the course of this trip but in the end all that really makes sense are the photographs and the memories of moments and happenings along the way more than any monument or statue ever could. Photos are finally up; see the link below. Look for an in depth look at some of the amazing cities I visited and a few words on places we stayed and other useful information over the next day or two. I always said I wanted this blog to be a place where you can learn something useful, so I will attempt to stick to that idea. There is much to come. Cheers.

Photographs
Spring Break: Paris, Venice, Florence, Rome, and Prague

Every Nights Another Story

At some point a few weeks ago the realization finally came to me that this is in fact the life I am leading, and all of these beautiful people and places are not just a figment of my imagination. With that said, I can hardly believe that March is upon us and classes are more than halfway through here at UCD. Time is moving far too quickly than any of us want to admit. Classes take a break for the next two weeks so we are going to have a trip. The work has slowly been mounting and personally I am excited to take a break and see something new. I have never been on a so called "spring break" trip before so needless to say I think the next twelve days are going to be brilliant. A rough outline of my trek across Europe is as follows:

Thursday, 4th; evening flight to Paris
PARIS Thursday night till Sunday Afternoon (St. Christopher's Hostel)
Sunday, 7th; evening flight to Venice
VENICE Sunday night, all day Monday (Domus Cavanis Hotel)
Tuesday 9th; early AM train to Florence
FLORENCE Tuesday morning till Monday afternoon (Hostel Greci)
Wednesday 10th; evening train to Rome
ROME Wednesday night till Friday afternoon (Hostel Alessandro Downtown)
Friday 12th; afternoon flight to Prague
PRAGUE Friday night till Monday afternoon (Czech Inn Hostel)
Monday 15th; evening flight to Dublin

This has been planned, as you might assume, to have us back in Dublin with a day to recover before St. Patrick's Day festivities and the chaos that will likely ensue. I will try to post an update or two if I can, but I am not expecting nor do I want to be near a computer over the course of the trip. I've got a camera and pen; I will see you on the other side. Cheers.

Béal Feirste, An Uneasy Peace

While large group trips have a tendency for pitfalls, I would have been a fool to pass up a 40€ nearly all inclusive trip to Belfast sponsored by Arcadia this past weekend. To paint a clear picture, Béal Feirste is the capital of Northern Ireland and most notable for its connection to the conflict between republicans and loyalists which took place in various forms during the second half of the last century. We arrived a bit too late on Friday afternoon to do much other than enjoy a few pints but the next two days allowed us to take in several amazing and thought provoking sights. The main attraction of Saturday's outing was a trip to Giant's Causeway, an area of coastline north of Belfast known for its unique hexagon shaped basalt columns and a wealth of ancient Irish myths associated with the geographic features. Standing on the upper section of the causeway reminded me of the Cliffs of Mohr, except for how cold it felt when the wind was ripping. The clear and sunny skies, which for some reason or another have continued to bless us on these day trips, allowed the eye to make out the coast of Scotland in the distance. Scotland is closer to Ireland in that area than I had imagined, a further indication of the ties between the Ulster province and the U.K. that I have been reading up on in my history books. Following a brief stop for lunch in the seaside town of Portrush we made it back to Belfast in time to watch Ireland take the spoils of the match against England, 20-16. That makes Ireland 2-1 thus far in the the Six Nations. I found it interesting to see supporters of England in pub, though the large majority gathered there were quite thrilled with the Irish win. As for the evenings, Belfast has a vibrant night life, particularly in the university quarter. Those nights out were not the best I have had, but in general we had a good time and I cannot complain. Sunday got off to a bit of a slow start but turned out to be a brilliant day. Bill Rolston, a professor at the University of Ulster and avid mural photographer, gave a presentation explaining the significance of many of the murals around Belfast. The history and significance behind these works of art is remarkable and I found it interesting to see how murals have changed over the years in relation to the events of the time. I have a basic grasp of the riff between the various groups and their paramilitary wings in Northern Ireland but there is still much I would like to learn. Following the presentation, we boarded the bus again for a brief tour of the city to see a few of the aforementioned murals. A clear distinction still exists today between the republican and loyalist neighborhoods, highlighted by the massive wall dividing them and the fences, many topped with barbed wire, which seemed to surround many houses and buildings. While it has been over a decade since the Good Friday peace agreement, I still felt an air of tension in the streets. The city has made an effort to revitalize the communities but many buildings still bare the scars of years of violence and sporadic street fighting. The murals themselves, many painted right on the sides of houses, are true works of art. The republican murals are centered in an area called Falls Road, while the loyalist murals can be found along Shankhill Road, both in the West Belfast. Each are reminders of a time gone by, but also of the identity and tradition still held so close to the hearts of those who live there. For the time being there is peace, but below the surface I would conclude it to be an uneasy peace. On a lighter note, we concluded our tour with a stop at the Harland and Wolff shipyard, birthplace of the Titanic. At one time the shipyard was one of the largest and busiest in the world, but in recent years the shipbuilding industry has been in rapid decline in Ireland. It reminded me of the old Grumman factories on Long Island, a place that once bustled with activity but is now in disrepair and it's great legacy seemingly forgotten. Samson and Goliath, two of the largest gantry cranes in the world, still tower above the shipyard and serve as a reminder of great innovative men and the ships they created for more than a century. In general, I discovered that Belfast is a deeply moving place when you start to appreciate and understand it's complex history. I have only scratched the surface of understanding and there is still so much about this island I have yet to discover. I am without a doubt excited for what happens next. Cheers.

Photographs

Of Kings and Pounds

St. Paul's Cathedral

Prior to this past weekend, the only time I have had to show my passport was to convince the man at a Tesco off-license that I was indeed over 18. Needless to say, I was excited to head off for a few days in London after six weeks in Ireland and put that passport to better use. On Thursday evening we caught a flight to Heathrow and found our way via the tube to our hostel in Lambeth, an area south of the river Thames. I believe it was meant to be called the London Eye Hostel, but the address led us to a place called Journeys. Hungry at midnight in London? Try a train station. Imagine Penn Station on a night that the randoms come out while wishing you didn't miss your train; you get the idea. After a quick stop to take in Big Ben and the London Eye, Friday morning's first priority was finding an atm, a Barclay's atm to be exact. Finally, a bank with no fees; bring on the pence and pounds! Hardly do I want to know how that translated into US dollars. Pounds in the pocket, we saw the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace and walked up to the National Art Gallery in Trafalgar Square. Oh, and when you have a moment, ask Erin Mooney for her picture of the Queen. We spent the remainder of the afternoon milling around the stores on Oxford Street and witnessed an awfully brilliant street show compliments of a Finn. That evening we picked up a few 2 for 5 bottles of wine and proceeded to destroy our corkscrew... epic fail. Rather disappointed, Conor, Brenna, and myself opted for a few cans of beer (6 for 5 this time, what a deal) and roamed the streets looking for someplace to eat. Guess what, we ended up back at the train station. However, my panini was excellent and there were fewer creeps to be seen. On a hunch from Conor we caught a cab to a place called the Wellington, which resulted in a bit of confusion with a taxi driver and a ride that took three times as long as it should have. Our intended destination was the Lyceum Tavern, where the pints were cheap and the conversation most enlightening. The rest of the group wandered in a bit later and we headed to an Australian pub called Walk About. Problem: we still had unopened beers in our jackets; solution: hide them outside and hope for the best. Seriously, don't try this at home, but they were right where we left them when we got out an hour later and I thoroughly enjoyed a beer on the taxi ride back to the hostel. Our touristy nature continued on Saturday with a visit to St. Paul's Cathedral and the London Tower. St. Paul's is an Anglican Church first constructed in the seventh century and it's dome is among the highest in the world, rivaled only by the Basilica in Rome. If you are looking for an amazing view and can handle all 530 steps, I recommend making/climbing your way up to the Golden Gallery at the top of the dome. The view was simply unbelievable, though it was hard not to notice all the cranes and construction going on in London. I wonder how the city will look in two more years when the Olympics are about to begin. We carved our way along the river's edge towards London Tower and, as I am sure many do, I discovered that the London Bridge is a lie and the bridge of legend is actually the Tower Bridge. At first glance the London Tower was not nearly as impressive as I had imaged, but you cannot deny the history so deeply rooted in the very stones of the castle. Two personal favorite moments were standing on the execution ground of Anne Boleyn and taking in the beauty of the Crown Jewels. That evening we ate at a Chinese restaurant (which loved us) and met up with John, another Fordham student studying in London. Conor and I called it a bit of an early night and made it back to the hostel after a long and misguided walk for a good nights sleep while the girls headed off to a club. Needless to say our ambitious plans for Sunday morning were postponed a bit, but we still managed to see the 9-3/4 platform at Kings Cross Station and the Abbey Road Studio. I will admit I am not the biggest Beatles fan, but as a musician I could not help but stand in awe and appreciate the creativity and brilliance that has come out of that place. Attempting to get a shot recreating the album cover proved a bit tricky, but in the end I think we captured a few that work rather well. At that point it was midway through the afternoon and we still had fourteen or fifteen hours to kill before our flight back to Dublin early the next morning. We caught the tube back down to Green Park and essentially moved into a pub called the Clarence. We were all out of money but still managed to eat well and have a few drinks. Two of Lauren's friends living in London, James and Victoria, met us there and several hours of random conversation ensued. For the record, they have both promised to visit for St. Patrick's Day. Last call was around 10:30 and after an improvised photo shoot by a phone booth we spent the last of our Oyster Cards on the tube back to Heathrow. Goodbye London? Not quite. This story is not complete without an account of the hours spent in the airport. For all intents and purposes, Heathrow shuts down between 11pm and 4am. Some of us managed to sleep on the floor, others of us were to riled up to sit down, and in general we all suffered from a strong dose of delusion. You just cannot make this stuff up. Would I do it again? Absolutely. In the end, I feel the same way about London as I do about many places I visit. The city has more to offer and discover than can ever be taken in over a weekend, but I think we made the most of it. With the tourist attractions out of the way it would be grand to spend a few more days in London, but time will tell. I find it hard to believe classes are nearly halfway over here at UCD and my spring break trip starts in a little over a week. Until then, I keep counting my blessings for the people and places I have seen and hope that when the smoke clears all these experiences will synthesize into something worth remembering. Cheers.

more photographs here

Good Cause Sake

A few weeks ago I heard a term going around campus: Rag Week. I thought to myself, what the hell is Rag Week? Probably just another excuse to get all kinds of inebriated on the UCD campus? The answer is yes, but in the name of good causes. Rag societies are student-run charitable organizations common on university campuses across Ireland and the UK. These societies put on a week long series of events once a year to raise awareness and have a good bit of craic. This week UCD Ents & Societies Charity Board put on Rag Week 2010 and had events like Quake Aid 2010, Foam Party, Headphone Disco, a Guinness World Record attempt, and a scavenger hunt, to name a few. I cannot say I attended any of them with the exception of Thursday evening's entertainment, the Saw Doctors live at the student pub. Seriously, check this band out. The Saw Doctors are a bunch of 50 somethings from Galway who have been laying down jams since the mid 80's, and damn do they sound brilliant live. The Saw Doctors came on around half nine to a packed student pub and before long the Irish students were dancing and singing along to every world. Not long after that, I couldn't but getting into it as well. There is nothing I love better than seeing a band I have never heard before and completely enjoying every minute of it. I wish I could say more now, but I am off to London for the weekend. Look for pictures from the gig next week. Cheers.

The Saw Doctors Live at Uni Pub - L. Cahill

The Saw Doctors

Bringing Back the Cup

Following nearly two years of legal battles and never ending court motions, the 33rd America's Cup finally got underway this past week in Valencia, Spain. Swiss defender Alinghi took on U.S. challenger BMW Oracle to contest for the oldest active trophy in international sport. This cup was unlike any the sailing community has ever seen, with each side building sailing machines that look like something out of star wars. With BMW Oracle building a massive wing driven trimaran and Alinghi constructing an equally impressive catamaran, I personally wrote off any interest in following the racing, convinced it was simply a senseless battle being two arch rival racing programs. What ever happened to the Louis Vuitton Cup challenger series and the concept of involving more than two teams into this glorious event? However, you cannot deny the great level of innovation or publicity the Cup brings to the sport of sailing. I am more impressed with the likes of Open 70's and the Volvo Ocean Race, but damn are these new AC boats cool. Sailing 18+ knots in 8 knots of breeze? Unheard of. While I did not catch race 1 earlier in the week, this afternoon I got the live feed on the AC website for race 2 as BMW Oracle showed the Swiss how it's done. If only I could have actually planned to head down to Valencia for the weekend. In any case, USA 17 went on to win the race after a very tactical upwind beat, successfully defeating Alinghi 5 2-0 in the best of 3 series. Three years, millions of dollars, hundreds of thousands of man hours... all down to two races off the coast of Spain. Certainly sounds a bit absurd to me but you cannot deny the level of performance and skill demonstrated by those on board and off. Now that the Cup is back in America hands (where it damn well belongs), I guess the real question is what turn this event will take next. Will we go back to the traditional monohulls that have so long been a staple, or will the future see the likes of the machines built for this edition of the Cup. Time will tell. In the mean time, cheers to BMW Oracle for bringing back the Cup. For a much more in depth race recap and tons of pictures and videos, check out the AC 33 website.

33rd America's Cup

Panic Prevention

Every so often I come across a song I cannot help but put on repeat for weeks, whether it be for a lyric, a riff, or just that feeling you get when something makes more sense than it should. In late 2007 that song was "Sheila" by Jamie T, a singer/songwriter from South London with a knack for the bass and those sort of clever lyrics that you cannot help but sing along to. His debut album, Panic Prevention, is in constant rotation on my iPod and I will admit I'm flat out obsessed. Shortly after I arrived here I heard he had a gig in Dublin but missed out on getting tickets before they sold out. Indecently enough, I actually came across a copy of Panic Prevention in a small record shop in Gorey a few weeks ago... was it fate? I stalked gumtree for the past few weeks with no success until two days ago when Lauren found two tickets. Jamie T and the Pacemakers, live at the Academy in Dublin? Put that gig in the top 5. The Academy is a medium sized venue just off O'Connell St and reminded me quite a bit of Nokia Theater in NYC. By the time the set started the place was packed and turned into a chaotic yet beautiful mess of sweaty bodies singing along with every word. Add the constant shower of beer from cups thrown overhead and you cannot beat the vibe. His live performance is shear brilliance, and I would argue he sounds even better than on the records. The set was a good mix of jams from both Panic Prevention and his latest album, Kings and Queens, which if you have not had a listen to yet I suggest you do. Keep spitting your rhymes Jamie.

"A lot of people around here, lost the whites in their eyes. See the lust inside your heart and now I wanna touch the sky"

Check it.

Time's Up Chief

It is strange how you can live somewhere for an extended period of time, yet still feel like you know nothing about the place. I like to believe I know a thing or two, but after two weekends of traveling and a relatively quiet week on campus, I was in a need of a few solid days in Dublin. Saturday in particular was a beautiful day to be here as Ireland took on Italy in the opening match of the RBS Six Nations rugby championship. The idea seemed simple enough; head to city centre in the middle of the day, catch the match in a pub, and try not to head home until after the buses stop running. I apologize in advance for the change in writing material with this post, but it went something like the following:
Eoin and I left Belgrove around noon and missed the number 10 bus by 10 seconds; waited thirty minutes for the next one. Push started a car for an elderly gentlemen, and decided then and there that it was going to be a good day. Walked around Trinity for a bit looking for a bathroom before meeting Ricardo, and Italian student also studying in Dublin. Ended up at O'Donoghue's on Baggot St. after trying four other pubs to watch the match; Ireland wins 29-11. Highlights there included the crazy mumbling guy, meeting Lauren's friend Liam from Australia, and trying to convince people to shut the door that kept letting in cold air. Enjoyed a footlong from Subway for dinner while the others went to Porterhouse, which we then discovered was actually the Port House. Headed to Hairy Lemon to kill some time and met Gareth and Laura, two local Dubliners in their late twenties. Gareth buys Eoin a pint, brilliant. Next stop: Hogan's. Went to get some chocolate from Dunnes and decided (good/bad idea) to get a hip flask. It made sense at the time, but after I bought the cokes to mix with the bartender followed us to the bathroom and Eoin and I were promptly kicked out the side door; all I got was a stiff push and the words "times up chief". We both got back in and Eoin bought a pint, but an hour later when I tried to they would not serve me and I was again escorted out by a bouncer. In my mind the entire staff was after me. Eoin got the boot next, but put up a bit more of an fight than I had and ended up spilling his new pint on the bouncer; arguments ensue. Have it be known, at the same time Ricardo was working on his own hip flask... . Quite disappointed, the rest of my loyal friends decided to leave as well and we headed to Féile on Wexford St. Ricardo and Eoin disappeared for an hour thanks to my awful directions but eventually got back. Highlights there included being serenaded by a man who we thought worked in the pub but then got kicked out himself for being obnoxious, the dance off between Eoin and Bridget plus an old man who tried to get in on the fun, being cornered by the same old man in the bathroom and having a spirited conversation about American politics, and finding a non-existent alley way to finish off the hip flask we had attempted two hours earlier. Convinced we had enough craic for one evening, we headed to Eddie Rockets where we met a random local named David who had a milkshake with us; Eoin scored a free bowl of chips, but a battle broke out between Bridget and Eoin when she knocked them to the ground outside. The battled continued verbally in the van on the ride back, but everyone made it home in one piece.
The big question is, what did I learn this weekend: Ireland is a force to be reckoned with in the 6 Nations, never buy straight coke in a pub and expect the bartender to think you are just the designated driver, and Féile is the place to be for cheap pints and a great evening out in Dublin. Hogan's? Maybe I will try again in a month. In other news, back to the grind with classes this week but I am looking forward to it. Perhaps next weekend I can get to the museums I planned on visiting and to Phoenix Park. It is hard to believe I have been here for almost a month now. Part of me feels like I got here yesterday and the rest feels like I have been here for a long time. I guess I am just trying to hold on for the ride. Cheers.

O'Donoghue's

Jude Law and a Semester Abroad

Galway, probably the best city in Ireland.

After a long weekend in the Cathair na Gaillimhe and the surrounding area, I can agree. There is more to say than can ever be spoken about the sights and pubs and things that transpired, so I will start with the basics. For those who may not know, Galway is located on the west coast of Ireland, nearly due west of Dublin. Our adventure began Thursday evening on a €18 return Bus Éireann coach out of Dublin, a ride which regrettably took nearly four hours. One of my best friends is studying at the National University of Ireland in Galway and I was excited to see her waiting for us at the bus station. Bridget lives in a flat in Gort na Coiribe, a student community ten minutes walk from city centre, and put the six of us up in her place for the weekend. That is a whole other story in itself. From my perspective, Galway offers a major contrast to life here in Dublin. The city is vibrant and alive with Irish culture. I won’t get into detail about the nightlife, but needless to say it is excellent. Pubs I recall include Hole in the Wall, The Crane, Taaffes, Quays, and The Kings Head. Seriously, stop by for a few pints and live music at any of these fine establishments and you will not be disappointed. We spent Friday walking through the city, starting at the university and ending up down on Shop Street in the city centre. If you are looking for a quick bite, don't miss Wards Corner Store. In general Galway is not terribly large, but there is plenty to do and see in an afternoon. We contemplated jumping into a random fishing boat tied to the dock down near the Spanish Arches, but decided against it. Evenings aside, Saturday was the highlight of the weekend. I have no idea why it was there, but to our great fortune a Galway Tour Company bus headed for the Cliffs of Moher was parked right outside the flat in the morning. The tour started inland, stopping at various points of interest in County Clare and the Burren Region. Parts of the landscape felt like that of the moon and I wonder how people could have survived there. A few stops were better than others; I am almost positive the walk in a circle around the top of the raised earth mound fort was to see how much we drank the night before. Overall the majority of the places were interesting and it was grand to see a new part of the country. After the Burren, the tour turned west and headed for the coast to the Cliffs of Moher. Call it fate or whatever you like, but the clouds moved away and the sun came out for the hour or so we spent there. No words can describe the view. Standing on the edge of the cliffs with the ocean stretched out over the horizon the world felt infinite. At the same time you cannot help but feel small, somehow worthy enough for the chance to take it all in. I swear every place I go on this island is more beautiful than the last. The tour concluded with a drive up the coastal road back into Galway as the sun went down. Simply stunning. More shenanigans ensued that evening, and for various reasons we stayed in bed a bit longer than planned the following morning. All I can say is that we had a good deal of craic. Already wishing to return, we said goodbye to Galway on Sunday afternoon and suffered through a flat out awful bus ride back to Dublin. I think we stopped at every single town across the width of the country. That misery aside, this weekend was arguably my best yet in Ireland. Great friends, pints, beautiful places, and stories I am sure we will tell for a long time. I think we all asked ourselves why we are not studying in Galway on several occasions, but I have come to the conclusion that the distractions there are far to great. At the very least, the trip has given me the motivation to get to know Dublin a bit more for the tradition and culture that it has to offer. For now it is back to normal at UCD, if normal is at all a way to describe this semester. This place gets better everyday. Cheers.

Words can hardly due justice for the sights and events of this weekend.

Check out more photos

Further Reading: Galway Tour Company and Pub Guide

Today We're All Down Under

The 26th of January marks an important event for Australians and those of us who secretly wish we were. This most excellent occasion is none other than Australia Day. Established nationwide in 1994, this national holiday celebrates the start of British sovereignty in 1788 and increased in popularity with the bicentennial celebration in 1988. From what I understand all sorts of events happen across Australia including music festivals (I would love to go to Big Day Out) and the announcement of the annual Australian of the Year award. Simply put, Australia Day celebrates all that it means to be Australian and, in my case, provides an excuse to party with Aussies and enjoy a few pints of Fosters. For the sake of comparison, think of it as Australia's version of July 4th. I will admit I did not know the history prior to taking part, but I guess on Australia day we are all Australians, just as everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Our festivities started promptly at 11am, and around mid afternoon we headed to the Woolshed on Parnell St. Australians, beer, live music... whats not to love? I'm adding this holiday to my calendar next year.
Much love to my Aussies.

photo credit : Lauren Cahill