I've come to the realization that the European economy makes no sense. I can fly from Cork to London for eight euro, yet I can't find a beer for less than four. (Not that I'm looking for beer, it's just an example, Mom). Then there is the cost of laundry. The machines are tiny, and it's three euro per wash and three euro per dry. I'm sorry, but I value a safe flight to another country more than I value two beers or a few loads of laundry.
Other than that, all is well.
The fact that I basically have a month of class left is a bit weird because I'm only now facing my first wave of papers. Believe it or not, I find that having some work to do is a bit of a relief. I came here to learn something, after all. I'm taking several Introduction to Irish __________ for Visiting Students classes, so I shouldn't have been expecting the same workload here as I would with 300-level Bucknell management classes. But now at least I'm learning something, and knowledge is power. Right?
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On Sunday night (Feb. 24), I returned from a weekend in Belfast, Northern Ireland. It was my last trip arranged by Arcadia, and it was a good one. It took around eight hours on a bus to get there, but I didn't mind, because I got a really good Subway sandwich on the way. After dinner on Friday, we were free to explore the city. The city definitely had a different feel than Dublin or Cork. The exterior of the buildings were run down and I got a sort of gloomy vibe from the place ... which after years of horrific violence in the area, probably makes sense.
On Saturday, we took an hour-and-a-half bus ride to the Giant's Causeway. The tour guide told us legends and myths about the site, but I found it nearly impossible to pay attention; I was more interested in the scenery surrounding me. Basically, the Giant's Causeway is an insanely beautiful location that was formed by millions of years of geological activity. Now I'm no geolographicatologist, but I think it had something to do with lava, and it freezing, and rocks, and water. Umm, I'll just let the pictures do the talking.
Can you see the profile of the Giant's face in that rock?
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Then came Sunday. In the morning, an expert on the murals in the city lectured us. Initially I was not looking forward to waking up early to watch a slideshow, but it was interesting. To put the lecture very simply - in Belfast, some people want Northern Ireland to be a part of the Republic of Ireland and some people want the two to remain separate; and some people want Northern Ireland to remain a part of the United Kingdom and some people want to separate. That, in addition to the Catholic vs. Protestant tension in the area, made Belfast a very violent place until quite recently (which may explain why I was getting that gloomy feeling on the first night there).
Leaders from each side would employ artists to paint murals on the buildings in the city to make political points, send messages, and memorialize heroes (among other reasons). While the city is rebuilding from its violent history, the murals still remain. I got to see a few of them first-hand on a tour later in the afternoon.
Well, I have to get going. Time to write my Irish Folklore paper. I'm going to Scotland in a few days, so expect to hear from me soon, and expect for me to be wearing a kilt.
P.S. I'm back from Scotland. I wrote this entry last week but the Internet was down, so I couldn't post until now ... and I never bought that kilt...