"Dia dhuit", "Dia is Muire dhuit"

Febuary 13-15

I spent this past weekend in the beautiful environs of the town of Carna, Co. Galway located in the wilds of Connemara. The trip was an optional part of my Beginner's Irish class, as Carna is part of the Connemara (Galway) Gaeltacht. Galtacht is the term used for areas of Ireland where Irish is still spoken daily by at least some of the residents. As we learned during our short information session shortly after arriving, the area around Carna is one of the strongest Gaeltachts in the country with 75% of its natives speaking Irish on a regular basis. The opportunity extended to the Irish-learning students was an immersion weekend in the Gaeltacht in order to experience the language outside the classroom, in its natural habitat so to speak. 

Initially I was nervous about going on the trip because I felt that I hadn't learned enough Irish to be immersed in it. Along with other budgeting concerns, I barely made the deadline for the trip, turning my slip in on the very last day. Looking back over the weekend, I am so glad that I decided to go. 

The bus picked us up outside the quad at 5pm on Friday. As I was walking up, a bus pulled away and passed me, immediately making me nervous of course by convincing me I had just missed my ride. I looked over at the entrance to the quad though and saw some people that I at least recognized as other American students even if none of them were from my class. Two minibuses stood by and shortly after I arrived we were split between them. Unfortunately since there were multiple drop-off points, some of which were closer together than others, we were packed into that bus like sardines. 

The ride took about an hour and a half, and I think the bus driver managed to find the bumpiest roads in the country which was amusing (seeing as I was on the inside rather than the aisle seat). The views, what we could see of them through fogged glass and before the sun set, well made up for the discomfort of the driver. I actually managed to get several gorgeous shots before having to put my phone down and close my eyes due to a motion-induced headache. (Luckily I had the forethought to take motion-sickness medicine before leaving). 

  

 Ok so maybe only the second is really a good shot but I like the light in the third. 

It was full dark before the bus stopped anywhere, When it did we all kind of looked at each other not really knowing what to do, Were we all getting off? The bus driver then stood and listed off ten names after which those called left the bus; this was apparently their host house. I was surprised when so many  got off  at once; the house didn't look big enough! The list we had received with rooming assignments had had several of us grouped together, but I'd figured it was just weird formatting. When we stopped a second time, my name was called along with nine other girls. We all disembarked and walked up to a door which was opened by a woman who looked to be in her sixties. 

She introduced herself as Eileen and welcomed us before directing us upstairs. We all trooped up the stairs with our luggage and showed us the two rooms we would be staying in. In each there were two bunk beds and a standalone, housing five all together. It was snug, but cheerily  decorated and quite comfortable. Eileen told us to make ourselves comfortable as dinner still had a few minutes to go. It was interesting because as the program was through the Irish program, I only knew two of the girls I was staying with. Actually, I only knew two on the whole trip. I lucked out though because we all got along pretty well and I met some cool new nerd friends. :P

 #priorities 

(yes I just hashtagged mid-post...cultural brainwashing and all that jazz),

Having finished our relative feast of stew, potatoes, and carrots, not to mention the bottomless tea, we sat and waited for the bus to come pick us up again. It took us to Áras Shorcha Ní Ghuairim which is actually a language-learning outpost of NUIG itself. We were given itineraries for the weekend and then enlightened about the gaeltachts. We then were introduced to sean-nós song and dance. Sean-nós  is traditional-style Irish music and dance both of which vary somewhat from region to region. Carna has a strong history for being a center of both singing and dancing in this style. We watched a video featuring one of the most famous sean-nós singers, Joe Heaney or Seosamh Ó hÉeanaí.

Here's an example of his singing: 

As a side note, they taught us this song  which was kind of cool. I love hearing a room full of strangers joined in singing, it's pretty awesome to hear the voices grow stronger and blend once people start to learn. After the video we listened to some traditional music, played with great skill by musicians who looked like they were about 14-16. 

I should also point out that during the whole evening, all the residents present spoke in Irish to one another. It was pretty cool (as well as daunting) to hear how quickly they spoke to one another. Seeing the language spoken by the young people was especially interesting to me; after writing a paper last year about the death, revitalization, and slow dying of Irish last year it's cool to see that it's still hanging on. I was also excited to find that I could pick out words and phrases here and there in their conversations such as: "go raibh maith agad" which is 'thank you'. 

Once the musicians were warmed up, we saw some examples of sean-nós dancing which is stylistically different than Irish dancing. All of the dancers we saw were national champions; two of them were brothers, the youngest of which made champion at age 15. As they described it, sean-nós dancing differs from Irish dancing in a few ways. For one thing there is no kicking or lifting of the legs. In sean-nós the feet stay near the ground and the steps drive a lot of force into the ground. Furthermore, the torso and arms are much more relaxed than in Irish dancing. (I have video footage that I was going to post, but I don't have the names of the dancers and therefore feel uncomfortable doing so. Instead YouTube once more comes to the rescue)

At one point one of the dancers got all 30 of us present onto the little stage and gave us a brief tutorial on one of the basic steps in sean-nós dancing, the "shuffle". It was difficult to do in such a small space, but I was able to do it. After practicing for a  bit we "shuffled" to music which was cool. Even cooler was the fact that when our instructor told the accordion player "go mall é" I understood him. In this case he was telling the accordionist to play slower for us. 

As part of the evening we were also privileged to hear Joe Heaney's grand-niece (he was originally from the area around Carna) sing a traditional piece in the sean-nós style. She had a beautiful voice and the song she sang was unbelievably haunting. We were then taught the song I posted above. What I found interesting was that while there was some semblance of a program outline, it was pretty loose. After we'd sung as a group, the Emcee for the evening asked if anyone else would sing a song. At first no one spoke up, but we ended up hearing a lullaby from Maine and another American folk song, as well as a Dutch song from one of the other international students. All in all it was a fun evening. 

Even though we didn't get back to Eileen's until after 11pm, we all gathered in her kitchen to drink tea, eat biscuits, and chat. Like I said, bottomless tea is a beautiful thing here. As everyone settled into bed, four of the five girls (myself included) pulled out journals to jot down the day's events. It was oddly comfortable to hear all around me the scratch of pens and the turning of pages. It also encouraged me to actually write down what had happened that day which I've gotten out of the habit of doing. 

The next morning we had to be in class at 9:30, so we were up by 8:30 to eat breakfast. Not only was there different types of cereal for us to choose from, but Eileen had made an abundance of toast as well as boiled each of us an egg. I personally was nervous because even though everyone had essentially been speaking to us in English up until this point, the point was immersion, so I was sure that class would be all in Irish. That ended up not being the case. I think perhaps we were not quite at the level that our teacher was expecting because we ended up reviewing some and going over more  basic concepts in English first. The teacher wasn't upset though, which was great, and he gave us a lot of tips for our oral exams at the end of the semester. As much as I like my Irish instructor Fiona, I 300% wish that Dáithí was my regular instructor. I feel like I learned so much more this weekend than I have in the classroom since the semester started. Dáithí also constantly made jokes and musical references and made fun of himself, thus making the atmosphere 10x more comfortable. 

  

Halfway through the morning we had a wonderful tea break. This was nice because not only were tea and digestives involved, but I also got to talk to some of the students from the other Irish classes. Furthermore we got to use a little bit of Irish when talking to the tea server. 

Fully refreshed, we returned to class and learned more Irish including the correct pronunciation of "Óró 'sé do Bheatha bhaile" as well as the meaning. 
 

We returned to Eileen's for lunch before our activities for the afternoon. 

The bus picked us up once again at 2:15 and headed back to the school. It turned out that this was not where we were supposed to be though, because the bus driver got off and back on within five minutes before whisking us back in the direction we'd just come. We ended up driving past the same hills from the night before, but this time we had a better view. The pictures I was able to take before getting sick again don't do justice to the ruggedness of the landscape. I knew before visiting that Connemara was the some of the rockiest land on the island, but you really can't visualize it until you see it in reality. It was so hauntingly rugged and desolate even with blue skies and sunshine. 

  

  

  

Eventually we pulled into the Kylemore Abbey parking lot. I was rather surprised because the itinerary we'd received had said that we would be visiting a famine road (though what that was I had no clear idea). It turned out that the Abbey was merely a convenient meeting place where the Masters class students were waiting for us in another bus, (They had been on a morning hike while we were in class). After a short bathroom/stretch-your-legs break, we got back on the bus and drove to our actual destination, Kilary Harbour. 

It happened that our guide for the afternoon had gotten our bus so the remainder of our trip was very factual. As we were driving through the hills he told us all about how their all owned privately by those whose farms lie at the bottom. He also pointed out nineteenth century potato ridges which are still visible on the slopes (I have some pictures later). We even passed the highest point in Connemara the peak of which was shrouded in cloud. Finally we stopped at a seemingly random point on the side of the road and were told to go ahead and get off, leaving all unnecessary articles behind. There was some shaking-of-heads at this because many people had bags or purses with them. We were assured though, that the bus drivers would be with the vehicles at all times during our absence so there was nothing to worry about. Furthermore, we were instructed that it was important for us to keep our hands free during our trek.

Now this in itself was surprising because in all the information we'd been given regarding the outing (both in Carna and back in Galway) the intimation had been that we would be participating in a country walk. Even our "what to bring" list said to wear walking shoes. However hands-free-for-safety bespoke something more intense than walking. Luckily I had my hiking boots on, so I was mostly excited by the possibility of climbing. 

When we got out of the bus, the harbour was on our left. This was my first view:

And this was the view of where we were headed:

(the telephone poles mark the path we followed)

Instead of a sedate country jaunt, we found ourselves climbing up the side of a hill. It wasn't quite as intense as it looks though; we were mostly just walking at an angle along this rocky pass. The biggest issue was that we were walking on bogland, so we had to make sure that we found the driest places to step so we didn't slip or sink. Concentration test! Plus we stopped at every other pole which was a helpful rest. At each stop, our guide Micheal (who is an archaeologist) would tell us a lot of the history of the area. 

According to Michael, Kilary Harbour was on of the foremost smuggling ports on the west coast of Ireland in the eighteenth century. The residents of the area, one of the poorest areas in the country, were said to be essentially living in hovels but drinking the best wine in the country because they could get it duty free. There was apparently a very steady wool-for-wine trade at the time. 

 It was because of this that the British built the tower (which is all but invisible in the  picture below...nope, it actually is invisible; I only know it's there because I know where to look. Oh well, it's a nice picture) at the opening of the harbour in order to try and choke off the illegal trade.

 I actually remembered to have someone take pictures of me this trip :) 

We also learned that this area of Connemara in particular was on of the hardest hit during the potato famine (1845-1852). Michael told as a story about how the landed gentry of the area (the house still stands on the opposite hill from where we were and is still owned by descendants) had a private shipment of food etc. sailed into the harbour because there was no food there. However, the starving islanders at the opening of the harbour hijacked the ship for survival. According to Michael it became common practice for islanders to turn pirate; he also told us that there were recorded incidents of cannibalism because people had nothing else to eat. 

I love this picture because you can actually see the ridges that people made to plant their potatoes which eventually led them to grief. The fact that they still exist for us to actually see after 175 years completely mind-boggles me. The land still bears the scars, a physical memento of the tragedy that laid waste the lives of thousands. 

When we reached the top of the pass, we were looking down into a gorgeous river valley surrounded by hills: 

We figured that we would just be walking down the other side, in other words walking in the direction the camera is facing.....we were wrong. 

Behold, our path....upward:

Before we'd even left the buses, Michael made it very clear that anybody who was afraid of heights should tell him then. Some of you who know me, *cough* Mom *cough* are probably wondering why I didn't say anything.  I'm pretty sure I'm not really afraid of heights anymore, as long as there's no super imminent feeling of falling. (I still am not a fan of stadium stairs at the Xcel or Target center). I kind of like heights actually. (Tiny firetowers are another story). So when Michael offered us the option of going up, I was excited. I like climbing rocks. That being said, climbing this part was the only point on our excursion that I was scared. At the same time though, the adrenaline was wicked :P There were a couple of near misses with me grabbing hold of loose rocks, but luckily there were strong tufts of grass that sufficed. 

The views from the top of the ridge were 100% worth the intensity. 

  

  

  

Aaaand this was looking back down where we'd come from:

Look how tiny that telephone pole is...

It turned out that the river valley we were looking down into was actually the only fjord in Ireland. So I can now say that I have climbed the side of a fjord. Cool points, yo. 

The day was absolutely beautiful and we were able to see everything around us. Michael told us that a lot of the times he makes the climb with people the views are hazy with rain or mist and that we seriously lucked out. The sun also meant that it wasn't freezing, even at the top of the ridge; I was just fine in my Irish sweater :). 

Going back down this side was a little bit more interesting than coming up. We zig-zagged back toward the bay, and by no means was the descent as steep as coming up, but the bogland was more prevalent which made slippage more of a possibility not to mention stepping in invisible puddles beneath apparently solid ground. Even in my "water-proof" hiking boots, my feet were wet by the time we got to the bottom, and most people had either sneakers or fashion boots on. Talk about being unprepared by the organizers. (Even though I had my boots on I was pretty bummed because my packing-light philosophy excluded another pair of shoes so basically I was looking at the rest of the weekend with wet feet because said boots are a pain to dry). As we climbed back down to the bay again I took many many pictures, including shots of the sheep that ran rampant (we literally saw one galloping down the ravine after its fellows baaing all the way) on the ridge. However I will not bore you with them. (see Facebook [eventually] for further details). 

  

 View looking from the top of the ridge over the bay

  

Ok so I had to add one sheep shot (hehe)

I don't think you can see it in any of the pictures, but Michael pointed out Clare Island to us (past the land that juts out on the far right in the above lefthand picture) which has ties to Grace O'Malley (Gráinne Ní Mháille). Grace, who lived during the sixteenth centuries, was one of the most badass woman pirates. While I don't condone killing and violence, she was awesome in the way that she took control of and strongly defended the land of her clans as well as going head to head with Queen Elizabeth I at one point. Thus, seeing this island connected with her, even from a far, was pretty awesome for me. 

When we finally reached the road again, we found ourselves no more than two hundred feet from where the bus had left us. All the twisting and turning had me seriously disoriented!. We started to walk along the road in search of the buses, or so we thought, I tend to walk fast, so I was up by Michael when he turned off the road onto another path leading back in the direction we'd initially climbed (opposite that of the bay), so basically back inland. 

Remember when I said that we had the option of climbing up when we got to the top of the pass? Well three of the participants opted to follow the pass down the other side to the famine road we were meant to see and walk along that way back toward the bay as an easier option. (I should mention now that when were were on our way down, Michael had directed one of the guys [Pat] to take a more direct [therefore steeper and more dangerous] route down to the road to meet up with the ones who had taken the famine road),

Anyway, when Michael turned off the driving road, he was heading us back toward the famine road a) so that we could see it better and b) so that we could meet up with the others. At this point the sun was starting to get lower in the sky and therefore the temperature was dropping. When we got to a good spot to see the famine road, Michael stopped us to tell us the history of it, all the while keeping his eye on the three tiny figures making their way along it in the distance. 

The Famine Relief Road (grey line a couple of cm above water line)

Now to finally explain what a famine road (or more particularly a famine relief road) is. When I heard "famine road", I guess I believed that it was a road that famine survivors traveled on to get to the harbour and thus to boats which would take them elsewhere. I think this was partially because there's a memorial on the bank of Galway bay to the sailors of ships that evacuated famine victims. I figured this was the same sort of thing. Then when I heard that it was a famine relief road, I thought maybe it meant a road that was traversed by outside parties, bringing food and supplies to the suffering Irish of the area. I was wrong again. The actual function was a bit more depressing to my mind.

It turns out that the famine roads were the British solution (for lack of a better word) to the famine crisis. It was a public works project implemented to try and get income to the families who had no money because their crops had failed. The government would hire the men of the area for a pittance to essentially build a road to nowhere. The road was never meant to be finished, so when the public works programs were shut down, all construction simply stopped. Michael told us how while the lucky ones worked below, the unlucky ones sat atop the ridge looking down waiting for the current workers to collapse. It felt morbid standing there ogling this tragic site, but at the same time I didn't quite get that intense "OMG history" feeling; too many people around. 

What is so amazing to me though is the fact that this is still here untarnished. I don't know if the area where we were is protected or just not developed because of the terrain, but it's just astounding to me. In the US we have battlefields and houses to visit, but this reminder is once again part of the physical landscape. It's just there. 

After telling us the history, Michael returned his attention to the approaching figures while everyone else chatted comfortably. It was about this point though, that Michael pointed out that there were only three figures one the road. Pat was not visible at all. I could tell that Michael was worried; all the way down he'd been very particular about people sticking close and not getting lost, and here was a missing student who could potentially be lost on the hill or could have fallen etc. Everyone started making jokes, I think everyone was uneasy, but one Irish student told his friend not to jest because it was really not good if Pat was lost. Luckily one of the girls from his class had his number and Michael was able to call him. It turned out that he was back with the buses. He'd met up with the road-walkers but had gone on ahead to see how far they had yet to go. When he saw the distance, he for some reason climbed back up to where we'd left him originally and then back down to the bay like we had. 

As I mentioned before, I have a genetic sunset-photographing problem

Everyone appropriately accounted for, we made our way back to the buses and turned back toward Carna. We'd all settled in for a less-than-restful jouncy ride back, when two of the older students reminded Michael that the itinerary had promised a look at the remnants of a 4,000 year-old forest. We were severely behind schedule at this point, all that waiting etc, but we detoured anyway. I wasn't going to get out, at that point I was pretty fed up with bog-walking, but hey..history right? This was a little different because we actually climbed down into a bog where people had been cutting turf, so that was pretty cool to see. Plus, after all the Erin Hart books I've read about bog bodies (seriously, you all need to read her books if you like murder mysteries) I couldn't quite resist taking a peek. (Michael actually even mentioned bog bodies at one point...)

Anyway, these stumps, which look like stumps,  are actually the preserved remnants of 4,000 year-old trees. Talk about shivers! (Although they may have been more to do with the fact that at any point a misstep would have resulted in sinking steadily into the bog).

  

The ride back to Carna was pretty quiet as everyone was tired. We were once again left on Eileen's doorstep like lost puppies hungry for food. It was a great feeling taking off the boots, but I ended up keeping the damp socks on because since we were going out again, there was no point in getting my other pair wet too. Luckily for me (and it turned out for everyone) Eileen had a range in her kitchen so I was able to dry and warm my feet. It was lucky for everyone else as well, because we ended up leaving our boots and shoes by it all night so they were nice and dry the next morning. We had delicious chicken, rice, and curry for dinner (actually a fairly common dinner here as far as I can tell). Eileen offered to wash and dry everyone's socks and wet slacks, and then her daughter went and offered us the use of her shoe collection so we all had dry feet for our evening activities. 

This ended up being a sean-nos dance workshop. I'm not going into great detail here because it turns out that I was not able to do said type of dancing. I grew extremely frustrated because I could hear the beat in the music and could do the "shuffle step" at a slower pace, but when I put the two together my feet wouldn't listen. Our teachers were the brothers from the night before, and it probably didn't help that the cute one would try to help me; dude screwed up my concentration. My issues were a) i couldn't figure out how to shift my weight from foot to foot quickly enough and b) my legs wanted to kick out rather than just "shuffle". It required more control than I could muster while simultaneously remembering step sequences. Eventually I gave up (I'm a quitter, what can I say...did the same thing with Irish dancing at age 4) and went to talk to one of my new friends. 

Once dancing was finished, the plan was to go to the pub so that we could practice our Irish. Not to worry, we'd learned how to order pints earlier that week in class. Priority language-learning covered. As it turned out though, the pub that the majority of the group had decided on (there are two in town which allows one to see priorities in a town so small) was the one that had loud music nightly and thus offered limited options for Irish -speaking. I had a good time though, drinking my Guinness, listening to a weird combination of rock-country-Irish folk and chatting with some of the other people in the other Irish classes.  

Even though we had a later start the next morning, most of the girls staying at Eileen's were ready to head back after one drink. As luck would have it (I really need to get a thesaurus), Eileen lived lite

rally around the corner from the pub so we didn't have to wait for the minibus to take us home. I guess in that sense it was a good thing we didn't go to the other pub, though I can't imagine it was all that far away. Right as we walked out of the pub it began to softly rain and we all thanked whomever that it had held off during the day. There were a few girls who stayed a little longer to dance in the pub, but even they were back before midnight. It had been a long day so there was no tea-and-biscuit chat session when we returned. Instead the atmosphere was subdued with people hopping into respective showers and updating respective journals.

Sunday morning followed the same pattern as Saturday with the added confusion of everyone trying to gather their belongings together as we would be leaving for Galway directly after class. It is amazing how in the span of 48 hours one's belongings can migrate to the furthest reaches of one's environment. Mostly the chaos was caused by the fact that five people were trying to maneuver in a tight space. The bus was slated to pick us up at 9:45, so after we were done eating everyone kind of milled around the kitchen and the front hallway so as not to be caught off guard.

Candid lol

Two of the girls and myself enjoyed a lively conversation regarding the various fandoms we belong to, a conversation prolonged by the fact that the driver didn't get to us until almost 10:15; Irish time at work again. 

Our class on Sunday went much the way Saturday had gone, with Dáithí speaking to us a little more in Irish than he had the day before. We also had a little more time to speak with one another which was challenging. It's a lot harder learning a language that is not spelled phonetically (as opposed to Spanish to a large extent). When we're taught pronunciation, I always write it out phonetically.While this helps me pronounce things correctly, it also means that I don't pay as close attention to the actual spelling. Thus when my partner would ask me questions I struggled figuring out what he said even though they were written on the sheet I held in my hand. We learned a bunch more phrases etc. to help us on our exam. Plus Dáithí gave us a sheet of Irish proverbs with their translations and helped us learn how to say them. Again we had a tea break, which while tasty would actually come back to haunt me later in the day.

It was cool when I left the building though (the tea was in another part of the complex across the street from where classes were) because for a few moments I was alone. One girl was walking ahead of me but she was far enough away that it amounted to the same thing. For a moment it was silent, there were no cars, no chattering students, nothing. It was one of those days that can only be described as "Irish" (the picture doesn't do it justice):

For a few moments I was able to find my Ireland again, something I've been struggling with since I got here. It's hard sometimes to remember that I'm actually here even with all the accents; it gets to the point where you barely hear them. And living in the city is not that much different. The other side of it is that My Ireland is something that is purely mine and like so many other things I need to be alone, able to enter my mind, in order to feel it again. It made the day all the more beautiful (though I'm sure others would term the day unsavory). 

As the time once again began to run out on our class, Dáithí asked us what we wanted to do since this extra learning was our choice. One of the students asked if we could go through "Óró 'sé do Bheatha bhaile" again. It was really funny because no body really could do the lyrics so we all sort of stumbled and mumbled through those lines, but everyone would chime in loud and proud on the refrain. Then the girl who had sung the Maine lullaby on Friday night tried to coax another girl to sing "The Parting Glass" with her. They only got through the first verse and chorus before getting lost, but it was still cool to sing along with them as it is one of my favorites. Dáithí then asked if anyone else would like to sing. No one offered, so he expanded the options to poetry, or "anything you like...a rap!" *cue audience chuckle. (I have a good memory but not that good. I just listened to the recording I made of our class...posterity and educational benefits). Someone launched into the "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" theme song and it was pretty impressive to hear a bunch of people join in and recite it from memory. Even more impressive though was Dáithí's rap in freaking Irish that he treated us to when the others had finished. Thank the music gods I was recording, I'll have that for life now haha. 

I learned much over the weekend, but most amazing to me was the strong evidence of the Irish attitude toward music and more importantly sharing it. Music is a gift to be shared with others, I've seen it during the sessions in Galway when fifteen musicians will gather to play together fro the craic rather than to perform, and I saw it in Carna in the way people were asked off-handedly to share a song. There is a complete love for music I've never experienced before. Maybe it's because the music is so strong in Carna that I saw it, but it's amazing. I know in the US people love music and will get together and jam with their instruments and what not, but we'd never be at a gathering and just go around sharing songs. It hearkens back to simpler times and the traditions run strong. It doesn't even matter what you share, as evidence of a theme song being presented; it just matters that everyone is able to express themselves. I don't know if I even explained that well, but it was astounding and awe-inspiring for me. 

They bus ride back started out much the same way as all the others had. Although at this point I had some large bruises in the posterior from bouncing up and down so much, not to mention sore side muscles. Congratulations Ireland, you physically marked me. About ten minutes in though, the driver got  a phone call and we doubled back intending to meet the other bus which had the rest of the students. That bus was packed to the gills, being smaller, and one girl was actually sitting on the floor of the bus. We doubled back to pick her up because she realized that there was no way she was going to be able to survive the curvy, bumpy roads on the hard floor. It's amazing how the road looked about 10x smoother than it felt. The rest of the trip went smoothly, despite a minor pit stop which may have been my fault (at least a few others got off as well so I didn't look like a complete idiot...stupid tea), and we reached Galway about 3 in the afternoon. 

Upon arriving, we all went our separate ways and the little band that had been created out of shared experiences was no more. Waxing Tolkein much...

So that was my sort-of immersion experience, 

Also, here is my favorite version of The Parting Glass: 

P.S. The title is how you say hello in Irish:

"God be with you" and the response "Mother of God be with you"

The Town I Loved So Well

January 23-25, 2015

As part of the Arcadia program, all students participate in a homestay weekend. This entails travelling away from the college location and spending two days in an Irish home. The Galway students were assigned to the area of Castlebar about an hour north of Galway.

The concept behind the homestay program is to get students out of the environment they've been living in (in our case Galway city) and into a different one (Castlebar being in the country). Though one or two students were actually staying with families who lived within the limits of Castlebar itself, the majority of the students stayed with families who lived in the surrounding villages. Since the Galway group is so big, we were actually split across two different weekends based on our living accommodations. So when the Gort students went, they were staying with families who had hosted Niland House students the weekend before. This was helpful to some extent because Gort students were able to get kind of a heads up from the Niland  people. 

Before leaving Dublin, we were given a little packet of information on our family and the highlights of Castlebar, but I'm pretty sure almost everyone (myself included) completely forgot about said packet until the night before we were meant to leave. 

I should say here that when I first read about the homestay during the Arcadia application process I was was really hoping that the  program was optional. The idea of having to spend two days with strange people in a strange house was not very appealing to me. Not that I didn't want to get to know the Irish, I just didn't want to be put into that situation  and have chronic shyness rear its head. When I found out that it wasn't optional during our Dublin orientation, my plan was to just get through the weekend as best I could. Funnily enough though, (funnily looks like a word that should not exist doesn't it?) when it came to the night before were were slated to leave and the day of, I started feeling excited. While I was still nervous, I was eager to get out of the city. It also helped that there would be another student in the same house as me. I'm not sure what I would have done if I it were just me...

So with some nervousness but mostly feeling excited, Breigh and I met with the other Gort students at 4pm by the front office to wait for the bus. Four o'clock was when we were meant to be picked up, but taking into account Irish time we didn't really expect it until ten after or so. However after about fifteen minutes people started to get antsy, mostly because the sun had moved behind the building and it was rather cold. The bus finally arrived more than half an hour late after multiple calls from our Arcadia liaison, Ann. When we got on the bus the driver told us he was stuck behind a bad accident, thus making us late. I'm not what everyone else was expecting, but I was assuming that since Ann was waiting with us at Gort she would be accompanying us to Castlebar. However after taking attendance and wishing us good luck, she left us to our adventure.

As much as I love Galway, there was definitely a sense of relaxation as we drove into the country. There was a gorgeous sunset on the way there that luckily was on my side of the bus. I went a little overboard with the pictures (as per usual when it comes to sunsets) so I'll only post a few of them.



I was excited to find shortly after starting out, that we were passing signs for Headford (for y'all that don't know, this is where our cousins live) on our way, and I started hoping that we would drive through it. At one point I figured out that we had passed across the town lines, from a gas station of all things. I have no idea how, considering they all look alike, but suddenly I remembered standing next to our car as my dad filled up the tank five years ago. When I turned my head to the other side we were just passing Varley's Pub (owned by cousins of some degree). We were moving too fast for me to get a picture, but it was still cool to see something familiar.

Once we left the town limits I kept my eyes peeled  for Ross Abbey (Ross Errilly Friary). I wasn't sure if I'd be able to see it, but luckily there was some dusk light left and I was able to see it in the distance. I swear to god I wanted to jump out of the bus and never leave, but I decided that may not have been the best idea. Unfortunately the rest of the bus ride was miserable. I was looking at my phone for the first segment of the journey (deciding on music choices) but it set off my motion sickness from all the eye-readjusting. Usually I can calm it down with water and deep-breathing, but the driver was also crazy. Combined with the curving Irish roads, I spent most of the time trying not to puke. (Which is totally what all y'all readers want to hear about).

The bus driver was pretty insane though. He was whipping around narrow curves and generally driving in a way that was making people nervous. At one point he even hit something (though I wouldn't know as my eyes were closed). All I knew was that the driver stopped the bus on the side of the road and got out. I though he was going to use the restroom in the nearby gas  station at first; then when I saw him out the window I thought he had stopped for a cigarette break, which I thought was pretty unprofessional. It turns out though he was checking to make sure the bus was ok.

Finally we entered the limits of Castlebar where we were to meet our host families after a brief orientation. I think everyone internally breathed a sigh of relief as we got closer at the thought of getting off the bus. That relief was short lived however because shortly after w e began passing the distinctive markers of a town, the bus driver asked us all if we knew where we were going. We all kind of looked at each other and shrugged and he asked us again. Almost simultaneously a good portion of the group began rummaging through backpacks looking for the information folders we'd gotten which of course didn't tell us where we were to be dropped off. Apparently Ann hadn't told the driver where we were going. I could definitely feel the tension rise in the bus as several people plopped in a random town in a foreign country felt out of their depth. Luckily someone was able to access the email reminder we'd been sent from Arcadia earlier in the week, and even luckier was the fact that the hotel name was in the email.

Once we gave him the name of the hotel, the driver asked us if we knew how to get there because he wasn't familiar with the area. At this point pretty much everyone had lost confidence in this guy and we all just kind of helplessly while he drove around the town stopping twice for direction. Finally we arrived at the Harlequin Hotel and were directed into a seminar room for our introduction. Instead of meeting with a program representative (the weekend was actually organized by a partner program) we were met by a native of Castlebar. I guess  the intention was that they wanted us to learn about the town from a person born and raised there. Andrew told us a brief history of the town and then outlined the optional scavenger hunt that had been organized for us. The point of the hunt was to get the students to interact with the residents of the town. We had to take pictures in front of certain locations, ask locals questions, and collect items such as a map and a weekly newsletter. Apparently we were supposed to  meet in front of the courthouse the next day (Saturday) before splitting up and exploring. Unfortunately Andrew forgot to tell us this.

We then returned to the hotel lobby and stood in a nervous huddle, similar to herded sheep, to wait for our host families. I awkwardly stood near the girl I knew I was staying with not really knowing what to do. A woman came breezing through the door, greeted Andrew, and then turned to us and asked for Mary and Bridget in a rushed voice. We both stepped forward and she hugged both of us while simultaneously urging us toward the door. We were almost outside when we had to backtrack because she remembered she was also supposed to give a ride to another family's students. Our late arrival had thrown off everyone's schedules, as Shirley let us know when we got in the car. She told us that she and her family had already eaten, having waited for us longer than expected, but assured us that our dinner was awaiting us. At first I wasn't really sure what to make of Shirley. She very friendly, spoke a mile a minute, and kept up a running stream of conversation the whole ride to her house which is located in Ballintubber, a village about ten minutes outside of Castlebar.

All the while, Shirley told us about the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) dinner-dance she would be attending with her husband the next night (she'd been anxious about the time when picking us up because she still had to pick up her dress from the repair shop before it closed) and about the Italian student she had staying with her as well, intermingling questions about us as well. Unfortunately for me, the rest stop at the hotel hadn't been long enough to settle my stomach and Shirley's driving (I'm convinced that in general Irish people are fast, if not crazy, drivers) was not exactly a help. (It also didn't help that I hadn't eaten all day, having been warned that we would be stuffed to the gills with food by our host families). 

After dropping off the other two girls Shirley took us to her house. She showed us to our room and let us get settled a bit before serving us huge portions of delicious homemade lasagna. During dinner we were introduced to Shirley's husband Jim and her daughter Shannon who is 18. Jim runs a farm and works for the "board of works" (as our packet reads) which means that he takes care of many of the ruins and historic sights etc. in the area including locations on the Aran Islands, which he ends up visiting at least once a week.

The Niland house students weren't kidding when they said we would be fed. When I was finished with my first helping, Shirley offered another which I accepted because it was so good. At one point she noticed that I was slowing down in my consumption and she told me not to worry if I couldn't finish it all. She made us feel right at home, Halfway through our meal we were introduced to a friend of the family who had come to drop off his daughter who was spending the night. He stayed to talk to Jim and Shirley as well as to us. It was funny because when he asked where we were from and I said Minnesota, he was like "Ahhh the Vikings". This seems to be the trend here, people don't necessarily know where MN is, but they know the Vikings. This is mind-boggling to me because we never win anything...

The conversation then kind of oscillated between talk about the Mayo team politics and about American gun control. The friend, James, was shocked by some of the state laws in place. All three adults then talked about the strict gun laws in Ireland and the fact that the only authorities allowed to carry guns are detectives. We also heard a lot about two baby lambs that had been born the night before and who were very frail. Apparently they'd been born to an ewe who was really too young, and so Jim had to help try and keep them alive through bottle-feeding. (Don't worry, there'll be pictures later)

Virtually the entire evening Shirley was talking which instead of making me uncomfortable actually made it easier for me to feel at home. There was no real possibility for awkward silences. She started telling us about Shannon's deb dress (the equivalent of prom) and then wanted to show us so she pulled out her camera. We ended up spending over an hour going through all the pictures she had on it with a cheerful running commentary. We got to hear a lot about her mother, which was sweet. I think Shirley just needed to talk as she's still dealing with her mother's passing last April. At the end of the photo-show Shirley remembered that she had to pick up her resident Italian student, Lisa, who had been saying goodbye to her friends as she'd be leaving the next morning (she'd been living with the O'Toole's since September). I can't even imagine leaving home for a semester at 17. O.O

Mary and I ended up spending the rest of the night watching reality TV with Shannon. Shirley and Jim went to the pub at about 11 and then got home just as I was about to head to bed around 2am. I found it really funny because when Shirley walked in and saw we were still up, she looked around and asked if anyone wanted anything to eat or any tea etc. It was 2am! The hospitality was insane! I think she asked me over ten times during the two days we were there if I wanted tea. Not to mention she remembered how I take my tea every time.

The next day Shirley dropped Mary and me in Castlebar, having been told initially by the program organizer that the scavenger hunt was in fact mandatory. Mary and I waited for a few minutes, but when no one showed up we decided to explore the town on our own.

   

              

I love this tree!

 The lovely green was town center across from the courtyard. We initially didn't want to stray too far from the starting point just in case people showed up for the hunt. At the same time, Mary's friend said she might meet us, so we stuck around for a bit. Eventually we moved on though. 

   

    

Like father, like daughter

View of Croagh Patrick
 

                              

   

Church of the Holy Rosary, Castlebar

Walking across the town pretty much took fifteen minutes, which we had actually been warned of by Andrew. We ended up winding around the town multiple times. at some points because we were lost and at others because we found a street that we thought we hadn't been down (we had). Despite this, we weren't bored. Eventually we found a visitor's map and we made a plan to visit the War and Peace Memorial park. We never actually made it though, because we took a detour around the lake and were awestruck. The walking path around the lake was developed within the past few years and is a quiet retreat for walkers, joggers, dog lovers, you name it. All along the paths there are cool art installations as well as outdoor exercise equipment to use while enjoying the environs. (we actually saw one of the ellipticals randomly sitting on the hill...it was pretty weird, but cool) While walking we even met a few of our fellow students which was fun. 

  

   

 The people that we met said that we had to see the view from the top of this path. It was a bit of hike, which felt great. And it was unbelievable worth it.

 

Though it was freezing at the top. Both of us were sporting finger-cicles from trying to get the best shots. 

  

  

Croagh Patrick in the distance

My favorite shot from Castlebar

  

  

  

  

I'm not sure how long we were in the park, but by the time we'd made it along the other side of the lake, both Mary and I were rather chilled. We ended up meeting up with a few of her friends, who were actually staying just down the road from us in Ballintubber, and going in search of food and tea to warm us up. We decided on a little place called McCarthy's and had a delicious meal. Once finished, we all trooped back onto Main Street with the intention of finding postcards. By the time we managed to find some (which is incredibly difficult to do when you're in a place that is not at all a tourist town), and had run some other errands, it was almost time for Mary and I to be picked up by Shirley. She was going to bring us back home for dinner before she and Jim went out for the evening. Shannon had been at work all day, she works in the cosmetic department Shaws, and so we agreed that it would make sense for us to just be picked up with her when her shift ended at 6. 

I don't know how she managed it, but in between all her other errands and getting ready, Shirley was able to make us a delicious dinner of chicken curry and rice. I'm mentally drooling just thinking about it. Since Shirley and Jim were going to be gone for the evening, Mary and I had two choices: we could stay in and just chill for the evening, or we could get dropped off in Castlebar when Shirley and Jim drove in and then share a cab home with them once the banquet was over. Initially Mary and I had decided that we'd like to spend the evening scoping out the pubs in Castlebar, figuring that some of the other students would be wandering around as well. However since Shirley prophesied that the banquet would run until about 2am, and we would be getting to Castlebar around 7pm, we weren't sure we wanted to spend seven hours trying to find something to do in such a small place. We wouldn't be able to get our own taxi back at an earlier hour either because the house would be armed  Specifically I was  worried that it would end up just being a night of bar-hopping and the cost made my head spin. 

Given all the effort it would have taken to go out, Mary and I decided to just stay in and watch tv. Shannon, having worked  all day, also chose to forgo an evening on the town with her friends and we spent a cozy night watching Mean Girls and the live broadcast of Ed Sheeran's exclusive performance in Dublin. It ended up being a good thing that we didn't go out because, as  we found out the next morning, Shirley and Jim didn't even leave Castlebar until after 3:30am and ended up having to get a ride with friends because there were no taxis to be found.

The next morning, both Mary and I were up before anyone else; excepting of course, Jim, who had been up early to tend to the animals. We ended up just sitting companionably in the family room on our phones until Shirley came down. (We tried turning on the tv, but when the point-and-click approach yielded no results, we opted out of any more creative measures). After breakfast which at that point was pretty much lunch, Shirley took us to the thatched cottage we'd seen on our first night. She knew the owner (and everyone else in the vicinity which still amazes  me) and they had been agreeable to letting us invade and take pictures of it. When we arrived, the owner not only took a picture of Shirley, Mary, and I, but she invited us in to see the inside as well. 

Mary, Shirley, and I

Yes this is a scraggly rosebush, but I swear when I looked at it the voice over from The Quiet Man ran immediately through my head. John Wayne is looking out over White o'Morn and you hear his mother saying "And the roses! Well, your father used to tease me about them. But he was that proud of them too."





Mary had asked at one point if it would be possible to see the baby lambs, so after leaving the cottage we visited Jim's parents farm (which he works as well) where the animals were. I figured upon arriving that we would just head straight for the barns, but we actually went in and met both Jim's father and mother. His mom hugged both Mary and I and asked us where we were from. She said that she knew Minnesota which makes me think maybe she knew a family that moved there or even has relatives there. She reminded me so my of my own grandmother; the visit (which to be fair lasted like five minutes) was tinged with bittersweet on my end. When we left she hugged us each again and wished us a wonderful stay.

Jim was there when we got there, so he showed us into the barn sheep were kept.

  

  

  

We also got to meet this little newborn calf :)

  

  

Giant bull

Cheered from seeing the animals, we turned our steps (or wheels) toward Shirley's house for lunch. On the way however we stopped to see a castle ruin as well as to explore Ballintubber Abbey which is the only church  in Ireland to have had Mass celebrated there every Sunday since it was built in the 13th century. 

On the church grounds they had two little museum-type displays. One was a replica of the wooden churches persecuted Catholics would worship  in away from the prying eyes of the British.   

    

The other little display they have is a replica of a nineteenth century Irish cottage.

  

  

Hills in the distance

I think the coolest part about this part of our exploration was that we really got to hear some of the history. It wasn't like we were on a historical tour, or reading about events in an Irish history textbook. Shirley just started telling us about different things. For example the tree below was actually used to hang a man who was working for the authorities as a priest hunter. It wasn't like visiting a historic house where you're told "oh, so-and-so lived here in the 1890s". It wasn't like reading a sign that says "at this spot blah blah blah happened". This was the actual tree where Sean na Sagart (Wikipedia translates as John of the Priests) was actually executed. My fascination may seem pretty morbid. It's just the history nerd in me had shivers from the preserved history.

  

The actual Abbey:

  

Since the cemetery is built on a rolling landscape, there are many options (as seen by the little cottage built into the hill) for religious grottoes. One such grotto at the Abbey houses a beautiful Nativity scene with a small, quiet reflection space. 

  

Not only does the Abbey have its own permanent Nativity installation, which I guess is not that odd, a good portion of the land not being used for graves has been landscaped into a rosary walk with reflection points for all the stations of the cross. As we walked, Shirley told us about the huge Easter pageant that many of the village people (yes I had to) participate in. They actually act out the stations, with the Jesus representative(as well as stand-in robbers) actually being hoisted onto the crosses pictured below. There is even a tomb dug into the hillside where a body is laid. 

  

  

Altar stone

Once inside the abbey we learned that it was founded 1216 and is functioned as the beginning point for the pilgrimages to Croagh Patrick. It was clear that a lot of American tourist come to this site because as one of the points on the timeline, they listed the arrival of Columbus to the Americas. It made a point of saying that the abbey was already almost 300 years old at that time.

  

  

                                                                    (the one on the left is St. Bridget)

 Once we reached Shirley's house, after driving along the narrowest, windiest back road I've ever been on, Shirley made us tea and set about fixing dinner. Though we were leaving at around 4pm and it was already just after 3pm, Shirley wanted to make sure that we were full of good home-cooked food for the ride back to Galway. While she prepared the meal (after once again refusing our offers to help with anything at all), Mary and I went up to gather our stuff so we could essentially eat and run. (Luckily, we found out later, we didn't have to drive all the way back into Castlebar; the bus would pick us up at the petrol station just down the road along with the other students in the immediate area).
It was harder than I expected to face leaving the O'Toole house. Despite their mad dogs, only one of which is house-trained, I had had an awesome experience there and felt extremely comfortable after having only been there for two days. Part of this feeling I'm sure was that I didn't want to leave the bed I'd been sleeping in behind. It was ridiculously soft compared to by board-like mattress in our flat.

A couple last pictures and I will say farewell:

 After two days of dogs, I finally found a cat. I couldn't stop staring at it even though Shirley was talking to me at the time. It was such a pretty cat! I didn't get to pet it though because I didn't know if it was supposed to come into the house. I'm going a little cat-crazy here without a furry friend to cuddle with. 

Dinner made for us by Shirley

Shirley drove us to the station and waited with us until the bus arrived. She told us that we should come back for the Easter pageant and if we did we would have a place to stay. She also told us to make sure and friend her on Facebook and to come back and visit the next time we're in Ireland. Hugging her goodbye was hard. I still miss her lol.

The bus ride back was uneventful and a lot faster than the ride there. Clearly the second driver knew what he was doing compared to the first. 

And so ends the account of my weekend in Co. Mayo. Hopefully I'll be back there soon!

I'll post soon!

<3 B

Also: this song has been stuck in my head for days because of this stupid post.