Travelogue

Just because you're in a country that doesn't celebrate a holiday doesn't mean you can't do it anyway.

Case in point: Thanksgiving in Ireland. While Thanksgiving is recognised a number of places worldwide, nowhere does the holiday receive the recognition it does in America. That means everyone still has work, classes, and everyday life, but we did our best to overcome that.

In the morning, a bunch of the Dublin programme students played a 2-hour game of American football—no soccer today! After a tireing game, we relaxed for a few hours (went to class), and dressed up for Thanksgiving Mass downtown.

After Mass, the evening got started. Our host for the night was Martin Naughton, a member of the Notre Dame Board of Trustees. He took us to The Cellar, a fancy bar with complimentary champagne. A few glasses later (several glasses for many), we walked next door to The Merrion Hotel.

Naughton owns the Merrion, which is ranked as one of the top 35 hotels in Europe. The dinner was wonderful, about 5 courses long spread out over the course of 2 hours. It was my first dinner at a 5-star hotel. As the Irish would said, it was great craïc. Craïc, meaning people, conversation, drinks, and an overall good time.

Towards the end of the meal, as the pecan pie was being served, one of the Irish priests who said Mass broke out a guitar and started a sing along. The tunes varied widely. In classic American style, we drove the Chevy to the levy and took me home, country roads. We also sang "Whiskey in the Jar," one of my favorite Irish pub songs, and one of our programme directors sang a ballad about Ireland.

Finally, at about midnight, we called it an evening. Some went out. Instead, I took my sore throat and tired, but thankful, body home to bed.

Posted by Ryan at 2:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

For the third week in a row, I finished class Thursday and went to the airport. This week's destination: Madrid to see Spain and visit Elizabeth.

As a veteran of many RyanAir discount flights, my AerLingus flight was especially nice. Imagine being served food and beverage on a flight without paying extra!

After I arrived at Madrid, Elizabeth met me and we checked my bag at airport luggage storage. Then, I spent the night in true young-Spainard style: at the discoteca. I can summarize the experience using only times. We arrived at Palacio around 12.30am when the party was getting started. We left at 6.00am when the party ended. It was lots of fun for one night, but I can't understand how people could go to the discotecas very often.

We checked into a hostel at 8.00am, slept for 3 hours, and began sightseeing. Our first stop on Friday was at Palacio Real, the royal palace of Spain and official residence of the monarch. Both the interior and exterior were very impressive. Some of the inner room are exactly what you expect of a palace: ornately decorated and covered with gold, crystal, and other precious adornments.

For lunch I sampled two types of Spanish bocadillos (sandwiches): tortilla (which is completely different from Mexican tortillas—tortilla is a pasty mix of egg and potatoes) and jamón (ham). Now I can say definitively that you've never really had a ham sandwich until you've seen the shop owner cut the slices of ham from the leg of the pig before giving it to you.

Next on the travel docket was the Prado museum, the best art house in Spain, and Rick Steve's favorite in Europe. I took the jaded-art-museum-tourist approach, looking primarily at the famous paintings, the Picassos and the Dalis. There really is a fantastic amount of excellent artwork in the museum.

On Saturday I saw the Reina Sofia, Madrid's modern art museum. It is home to Picasso's famous masterpiece, Guernica. The painting itself is absolutely huge at about 20 feet wide. Beyond that, it is very powerful. Regrettably, I learn all my art history from tourism books, so I can't provide a very scholarly explanation. Suffice to say the theme is the bombing of the Spanish city Guernica during the Spanish Civil War in the 20th century, ordered by the dictator Franco and carried out by Hitler.

On a cheerier note, Elizabeth and I hopped on a bus to Toledo, a city an hour south of Madrid and home to Notre Dame's study abroad program in Spain. The city was capital of Spain for hundreds of years and is famous for the (relatively) peaceful coexistence of Christians, Muslims, and Jews. I would describe the city as a medieval version of San Francisco, at least in terms of road grades.

In Toledo, I finally saw a painting by El Greco that I read about in my Spanish class last year: El entierro del conde de orgaz (The Burial of the Count of Orgaz). Also, perhaps to prove to me just how confusing the streets of Toledo are, Elizabeth and I got lost for a good 20 minutes trying to find a church right next to us. Then, we went to Mass at Toledo's amazing cathedral. We wandered around the building just as Rick Steves suggested: like a Pez dispenser with our heads tipped back and our mouths open and saying "Wow."

Dinner provided another opportunity to sample Spanish cuisine at a tapas bar. Tapas are basically Spanish hour d'ours that range widely from french-fry-type things to rolled ham and egg in egg-roll-type things.

Sunday unfortunately brought with it a fever for me. I rested all day and was well enough in the evening to go to a Real Madrid (Real is pronounced "ray-ah" and means "royal") soccer game. A few of the players are on Spain's World Cup team and the game was entertaining. Best of all, the home team won 2-1.

Monday morning I flew home, dropped off my luggage at my flat, and had exactly 40 seconds to make it to class on time. No problem—that's what the challenge of studying abroad is all about.

Posted by Ryan at 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

An uplifting sentiment appeared on the front page of the International Herald Tribune today:

"Dollar falls to new low in trading with euro."

Move along, there's nothing to see here....

Posted by Ryan at 8:16 PM | Permalink

This past weekend I had my first opportunity to show other people around Ireland when Elizabeth and about 20 other students from the Toledo, Spain program visited. Here's the Reader's Digest condensed version:

Friday, though the rain poured down, we went to Glendalough, an ancient monastary in the Wicklow mountains. Thankfully, I was able to review my theology notes about the site before we arrived so I could explain its history. We saw Glendalough's round towers, monastic ruins, lakes, and local pub (with Guinness at an amazingly low price of ?2.65). After returning to Dublin, we cooked fajitas at my flat and went on a pub crawl.

Saturday was our day in Dublin. We walked around downtown, saw Trinity College, the Book of Kells, and the Guinness Storehouse. While the Guinness Storehouse is interesting and many people feel a must-see in Ireland, it's a bit over-the-top. After four floors of learning about the ingredients (water, barley, hops, and yeast), Arthur Guinness, barrel-making, and advertising, you just want to be in the Gravity Bar on the top floor where you can relax.

Later Saturday night, we went to a Notre Dame mass and dinner at our programme director's house. Then, we decided on a whim to see a Black 47 concert at a local pub. Black 47 (named for the worst year of the Irish famine in 1847) is a nationalist band that fuses traditional Irish music with rock. It was a cool experience and the music was excellent.

Sunday saw breakfast at Bewley's, an excellent coffee shop that is older than Notre Dame by 2 years. After a little Christmas shopping in city centre, I put the girls on the airport bus and sent them home.

Back to work....

Posted by Ryan at 1:38 PM | Permalink

I left for London with only two plans:
1. Sleep on the floor of the London Stansted airport the night I arrive.
2. Sleep on the floor of the London Stansted airport the night I leave.
Other than that, I had almost nothing but advice on what to see. Four days later, I returned home to Dublin. In London, I saw castles, parades, plays, tombs, and the Rosetta Stone. I ate fish and chips. I made phone calls from bright, red phonebooths. Above all, I minded the gap.

The details follow:

Day 0.
My friend Andrew Hoyt and I flew out Thursday night on RyanAir. True to RyanAir form, our flight left Dublin 55 minutes after we should have arrived in London. No problem—we got to Stansted at 1:00am and slept there in the airport.

Day 1.
It was a day of learning. The first thing I learned is that the lights of the airport shop we slept in front of turn on at 4:43am. As they turned on, the clerk said to Andrew and I, "Rise and shine! Time to wake up!" We walked somewhere else in the airport and slept there.

At 8:00 when we took a (long) bus into the city proper. Right after arriving, Andrew met up with a friend and I was on my own. I jumped on the Tube, made a couple transfers, and bought a discount ticket to Chicago at Leicester Square. A couple phone calls later, I had a hostel for the evening.

There's no travel feeling quite like having no idea where you are, stepping out of a subway station, and coming face to face with one of the most famous landmarks in the world. Today, it happened to me and Big Ben. After reminding myself, "Yes, I am in London," I proceded to Westminster Abbey, and saw all the associated tombs.

My pre-show dinner was a fabulously greasy (and cheap!) plate of fish and chips. Chicago was a great show. Fun songs, dancing, and all that jazz....

Day 2.
Starting at 8:00 again, I grabbed a (free) hostel breakfast and made for the tube. At the Tower of London, I took a very enjoyable tour with a Beefeater and saw the famed Crown Jewels. There are so many diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and other precious jewels that they look almost fake.

Next, I tubed it to the Palace Theatre, bought a ticket, and slipped into Les Miserables 30 minutes before the afternoon matinee started. I sat in the illustrious £12.50 section, approximately 5 stories from the stage. But, even at that height, the show was absolutely amazing; I'd rank it as the best dramatic musical I've seen. After the show, I selected "Yumi Chinese" for my dinner gastonomical enjoyment. My decision was based primarily on the sign in the store's front window, "All meals: £3.50."

At night, I strolled around Trafalgar Square and saw the city after dark.

Day 3.
My last day in London was a perfect close to the weekend. Starting again at 8:00am, I made my way to Westminster Cathedral for Mass. Unknowingly, I chose to attend the "Family Mass," with a homily given especially for little children. Never before have I seen a priest use a stuffed spider, broom, and bag of coins to explain the Bible.

Thanks to a tip-off from my rector who lived in London for 2 years, I knew this Sunday was Remembrance Day, the holiday when Britain remembers its war dead and those in the armed forces. Standing on the street corner near Westminster, I watched elaborate band after band march down the street. After I had seen enough parade, I toured the nearby Cabinet War Rooms where Winston Churchill and his staff planned Britain's defence in WWII. (The rooms are covered with 10 feet of concrete and steel to withstand a direct bombing.) As I emerged from the museum, I heard applause. In an example of perfect timing, all of Britain's WWII veterans were marching by just as I exited.

Not content to end there, I went to the British National Museum. Until it closed, I looked at mummies, Egyptian statues, Greek artifacts, the Rosetta Stone, and the Reading Room where Karl Marx formulated his ideas for Das Kapital. To close my London sight-seeing, I rode the impressive London Eye, a kind of ferris wheel on steroids. Then, off to the airport!

Day 4.
Andrew and I met up again at the Stansted airport. After a somewhat restful night, we woke up at 5am, checked in, and flew back to Dublin. As we exited the plane back in our new home country, a rainbow appeared behind the plane. I'd like to say it was poetic, but it was actually just light diffraction. Nonetheless, a good ending.

Posted by Ryan at 12:11 PM | Permalink

Am I learning anything in the classes here in Ireland? You betcha. Try this one out:

What's the difference in pronunciation between the word pit and the letters "pit" in the word spit? If you just say the words out loud, you might think there isn't any difference, but there is. Hold you hand directly in front of your mouth and say the word "pit," then the word "spit." You should notice that a puff of air exits your mouth when you say the former, but not the latter. This is because the "p" in pit is pronounced differently; it is aspirated. New things every day.

This weekend: London.
The current exchange rate for the pound: $1.68.

Posted by Ryan at 11:32 AM | Permalink

This weekend, the Dublin Programme took us to the Boyne Valley.

The most impressive stop by far was the Newgrange burial mound. Although it was fully excavated in the 1960s, the tomb at Newgrange is 5,000 years old. (It was built 500 years before the Great Pyramids in Egypt.) Newgrange is the oldest known example of solar alignment. When you enter the the tomb, you descend into pure blackness. But, on the winter solstice (Dec. 21), the sun aligns with a special opening (called the lightbox) and floods the tomb with light briefly. On the tour, the event is simulated using some lightbulbs. It is really amazing to think how ancient people could have constructed such an elaborate mechanism.

We also saw ancient burial mounds, the remains of ring forts, and a crumbling monastary where St. Patrick "lit the flame of Christianity" in Ireland around 432AD.

Posted by Ryan at 11:05 AM | Permalink