Warning: Filler Post

You know those little things that need to get done, but never do? I'm trying to slog through them today, and relax my mind between Good Friday and Easter Sunday... and one of those things, I hope, will be updating this blog.

Another is when and where to get on and off the bus this Monday. Getting from Belfast to Galway is more difficult than it sounds. And I don't do well  with difficulty.... though, of course, it depends on the situation. At this moment, I'm studying Irish grammar while watching Japanese cartoons subbed in Spanish.

And knitting a sock. This is relaxation, see.

EDIT: Or not. I'm only getting internet with my window open, and it's too cold to type for long periods of time *sigh* so... Easter, next week?

Food, Glorious Food

It just occurred to me that it's been a while since I talked about eating something weird.

I shall now attempt to make up for this slovenly behaviour.

This is dulse:

Image from http://www.dulseonline.co.uk/dulse/

Dulse is a type of edible seaweed, that you can buy in little baggies from the Whitten's - the local fruit & veg shop. It tastes exactly like you'd expect seaweed to taste - very, very strongly of the sea.

This is spaghetti with mushrooms, cheese, and dulse:

For those of us who appreciate the delicately interwoven flavours of seawater and fungus. Mmm!

Then there are these, not so weird:

An unexpected sight for people with a TV-view of the UK. But, yes, they do have cookies here. They're what we in the States would call chocolate-chip cookies. Here, that term is redundant.

And then:

Yes. I did find noodles in a packet. I can always find noodles in a packet. Apparently, they're made in Singapore, and the flavour packets have pictures of the animals they're supposed to taste like, just in case you can't read any of the several languages splattered on the package.

Time for dinner!

You Can't Get There From Here

It's like this: unionism, in favour of the union; nationalism, in favour of an all-island republic. Loyalism, violent unionism; republicanism, violent nationalism. Troubles: baaad. Lots of violence. Recent violence. Allied with Christian denomination: unionists, Protestant; nationalists, Catholic.

These are extreme generalizations, yes. But the associations are true enough to segregate a good portion of Belfast. I was recently told that, even on prosperous mixed streets like Malone, people avoid problems by just ignoring each others' existance, and that's peace.

The best-known examples, though, of clear territorial differences are places like Sandy Row and the Falls Road.

Last week, I attempted to walk to the Falls via Sandy Row. Did not work. Bad idea.

I'm sure the people there are quite nice. But... there are still large murals of gunmen on the walls, and red, white and blue curbs, and UVF graffiti and so on. I got lost by a roundabout, and had to go back. And let's just say that pigs would have to grow quite a few wings before I'd go up to somebody on "Loyalist Sandy Row" and ask for directions to the Falls.

These are pretty old by now... now we have election posters.

That's how you can tell whether you're in a Protestant or Catholic area: the posters. The two sides aren't vying with each other. The parliament is set up in a way that makes it impossible... to pass legislation, it has to be passed by a majority of both parties. So the various nationalist parties are against each other, and ditto for the unionists. This means that they only put posters up in their own streets, because they know it'd be pointless in the others' streets.

Just look up the nearest lamppost. DUP and UUP stuck repeatedly on top of each other? You're on a Protestant/unionist street. Sinn Féin vs. the SDLP? Catholic/nationalist. Alliance? Oh, poor Alliance... probably Catholic.

Anyway, the librarian just told me they're closing, so... bye for now! Pictures from the Falls sometime in the future! I did manage to find it in the end!

Dublin: This Is Later, Here's The More

The other things I saw in Dublin, besides the Book of Kells, were, well... besides the Book of Kells, most things pale in comparison. But I did go to two cathedrals, the National Museum of Archaeology and History, the library across from it, and St. Stephen's Green.

St. Stephen's Green is a lovely park in the middle of the city, a calm green place full of flowers, statues, and people. I found it interesting to walk through after having read a first-person account of the Easter Rising (for class) in which a man tries to get to St. Stephen's Green. He describes the trains being stopped, the nervous Volunteers at the street corners and inside the park, with guns, conversing with the people walking by on the other side of the fences. It was a very odd way to start a war. I mean, they took over the Post Office, because they didn't have enough people to fight off soldiers.

The Three Fates statue, St. Stephen's Green

James Joyce, also at St. Stephen's Green

 Everything is interesting when you know the history... when you have different times, different people, in the back of your mind for every place you see and experience.

I can try and do an entry of a brief summary of recent Irish history, if this doesn't make sense. If you've seen the rather sensationalized history in the Michael Collins* movie, however, this should sound familiar.

You can still see the bullet holes in the walls of the Post Office.



St. Patrick's Cathedral is huge, ornate, filled with history (and memorials), beautiful. The churches here look like cathedrals to me, and the cathedrals... well.

Jonathan Swift's grave

I was especially cheered to see a little memorial for O'Carolan:

Turlough O'Carolan was a harper and composer from the 17th-18th centuries. He wrote many tunes well-known and loved today (at least, among those who listen to Irish music). These include "Eleanor Plunkett," "Hewlett," "Planxty George Brabazon," and "Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór" (whatever way you spell it). My father plays** some of these, on the harp, on the flute, and on the penny whistle. Here's a YouTube video of Brabazon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flFztcgO4zg This was one of my favourite pieces of music as a child, before I knew its name, before I knew what "Irish" music even was!

And we came in time to hear the choir group singing.

At the archaeology museum, we saw gold and bodies. Yes, I mean that. There was a beautifully well-done exhibit on Irish bog bodies, on how they got there, what their world was like, and what scientists can learn from them. Then, there were rooms of prehistoric artefacts, which, in Europe, mean lots and lots of gold things. It was a little overwhelming. I just may have to go back.

In fact, I'm going back to Dublin on Monday, to wander around a few more museums and poke my nose into a few bookshops. I refuse, however, to get a picture taken of myself with my arm around Molly Malone,*** or buy any articles of knitwear.


* You should see it. History: meh. Plot: lots of guns. Alan Rickman playing a slimy politician with an Irish accent: so totally worth it.

** I could play them on my flute if I had the music. My flute is named Eleanor after the first tune... though I've been ignoring her of late, which is a shame, but I just can't stand to try practicing again when there are people around to hear how bad I sound, and so, I never get to sounding better! It's a vicious cycle.

*** She's made of bronze, and stands on a major street somewhere. Dubliners call her "the Tart with the Cart." I'm going to assume you know what I'm talking about (if you don't, I envy you).

Easter Break Begins!

Of course, this means that my time here is running out, which makes me want to cry and scream, and take a random bus into the country somewhere and change my name and pretend I'm Irish. But I'm not thinking about it. Not yet. I have to plan my break, and also tell y'all* about my exciting Sunday, about my exciting Monday, about C.S. Lewis and how incredibly odd and awesome he was, and about my socks.

Here are my socks:



They are good socks. They are stripety. And, Katie, if you're reading this, they fit about 10 small oranges' worth** of love, each.

I have to go find a calendar now, and decide when to go to Galway, and whether or not I'm going to find a mountain to climb on tomorrow. A nice lady from church - the doctor I mentioned earlier, whose name I can't remember at the moment - showed me Belfast Castle on Sunday, and offered to bring me on a C.S. Lewis walking tour at some point (it would give her an excuse to go - it's the sort of thing that someone living here wouldn't ever think to do, you see). I hope it works out - there's so much I never got round to doing, because nobody told me about it, and I didn't think of it.

* Just in case anyone thought I'd come back with a perfect Irish accent... nope. Sorry. I wish.

** People look at you strangely when they see you take your socks  off and fill them with fruit. Fact.

So Hot

Irish student: "Ah, it's so hot out! What? Why are you laughing?"

It was about 65 °F. I love this country.

A Bit About The Irish Language

I know, I know. I have loads more to write about Dublin, and pictures galore. But that's too much work. So I'm going to write about language instead (and, across the Atlantic, I can hear your eyes roll...)

The basics: the Gaelic, or Goidelic, language group includes Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Manx. Irish Gaelic is called Irish or, in Irish, "gaeilge." It is taught in many schools here, and though the language is by no means widespread, there are thousands of people who speak the language fluently in non-classroom settings (you can go look up actual statistics if you like), and many Irish in diaspora countries are trying to re-learn it.

Like English, it's confusing in that it's difficult to tell the pronounciation from the written language (unlike, say, Spanish). And it can be different depending on where you are: for instance, a word ending in igh is pronounced "ee" in one county, but can change to "ig" if you drive for a while. Also, there's lenition, by which a word is changed by other words in a sentence to start with different consanant sounds. And lots more like that. I'm interested in learning it because it's a beautiful, complex language, and I'm all for keeping languages alive (I was one of those kids who learned to write in Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs... yeah).

I loathe the attitude towards it held my many Americans who seem to think of it as a dead, fairy language that they can "translate" names and tattoos into as part of their heritage. And I use that word with all the wincing sarcasm I can muster. I feel almost embarrased to identify myself as Irish-American here. You can see the Irish get that look in their eyes, like, "Oh God, it's one of them," and I have to hastily add that my family came from Ireland, that's it, I've never drunk green beer or eaten corned beef in my life or searched for a fake family crest on Google. Really.

My name, written in Irish, is Peigín* Eilís Ní Fhoirréidh-Mhórdha. I have no idea how to pronounce the "Foirréidh" bit, but the rest would be PEG-een EL-ees nee WOR-ya (or possibly VOR-ya). The bit before the surname shows it's my maiden name... "Ní" is the female form of "Ó" and, and, because it's feminine, puts an "h" in teh beginning of the following word (so Mórdha becomes Mhórdha). This is because Furey and Moore both begin with Ó in Irish. If my name began with Mac, I think it would be Nic. Or Nhic.

By now I hope you'll understand what I mean by complex. Yes? Good.

Here is a list of Irish words, just for fun - I'm going to see what I can write from memory:

Apple – úll

Bell – clog

Blessing – beannacht

Boat – bád

Book - leabhar

Brother - deartháir

Cat - cat

Computer - ríomhaire

Cow – bó

Daughter - iníon

Dog - madra

Father - athair

Fish - iasc

Flower - bláth
Food - bia

Goodbye – slán

Heart - croí

Hello - (to one person) Dia duit

House - teach

Love - grá

Mother - máthair
Music - ceol

Please - le de thoil

Post office - oifig an phoist

Rain - fearthainn, báisteach

Rainbow - bogha báistí

River - abhainn

Shop - siopa

Sister - deirfiúr

Sky - spéir

Son – mac

Star - réalta

Tea – tae

Thank you - (to one person) go raibh maith agat

Tree - crann

Welcome - fáilte

If there's any words anyone wants to know... or tranlastions... I've got a dictionary and I'm signed on to an online translation forum. And I'm in Ireland. Just saying. And I do hope to spend time in the Irish-speaking part of Ireland, not Belfast or Dublin, but in the southwest around Galway... which I've heard is a beautiful area anyway... maybe I'll go there next week after classes, and plan out where I'll go over break!

Here are some signs in Irish and English, found in Dublin, featuring some of the more important** words:

And some others... signs from Trinity, and one of the street signs. All the street names are written in both languages as well. My personal favourite was Lána na Bó. I can't remember the English, but that means "Cow's Lane" and is just fun to say.

And, from my wonderfully productive YouTube searches, two funny*** little videos involving Irish:

"Fluent Dysphasia" (first of two parts): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNI9eBGYpvw

"Fíorghael" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3Kv4fZ2SOE

More on Dublin later, I promise! Now I have to go write a paper...


* I know, I know... but my name's just not Margaret! I'm sorry! You shouldn't have given my sister and I the SAME NAME. She can be Mairéad.
** Food is very important.
*** Warning: British humour. Some Americans might find it a little slow or understated. Keep in mind, the best parts are at the end.

Dublin: Books, Harps, And Other Irish Things

          This past week - or, the week before I became ill - I took a bus down south for two days in Dublin. It was an experience. I’m still in shock from the sheer quantity of historical and cultural treasures I’ve been exposed to.

I went with Maureen, who, as I’ve said before, is the other student from Warren Wilson in the same programme as me. We went to the big station near the city centre and bought round-trip tickets, for the long journey to the capital of Éire, all of two hours’ driving away. I made sure to bring my passport, and some other documents I didn’t know if I’d need (but better safe than sorry) in my backpack. We took the Bus Éirann. I could tell we were on the Irish bus because of the “Emergency Exit” signs:

And that’s how I knew we were in the Republic, as well: nobody stopped the bus. There was no check for passports, nor did I see a sign saying “You are now entering the Republic of  Éire” or anything to that effect. The change is in the language on the signs, from English to English/Gaeilge.

In Irish, apparently, a distinction is made between “exit” as a “way out” or an “escape,” and “exit” as a “point of departure.” This is why bus windows say ÉALÚ – EXIT but highway signs say IMEACHT.

But enough about language quirks. You’ll get more of that later on, no worries.

The landscape of Ireland is different from that of Virginia, but not too different. It wasn’t like going from the Southeast to the Southwest, which is like going to Mars. Here, there are the same big areas of farmland, clumps of woods, and the same rolling blue hills in the distance, but all on a smaller scale. There are more sheep than cows (in the States, there would be more cows), and fields are separated by hedges instead of - or in addition to - fences. The grass is alarmingly green. There are drifts of litter at the sides of the road, and every now and then a black shape boomerangs out from nowhere - this is a crow. It it's black and white, it's a magpie - and you hope you see a second one soon after.*

When we got off the bus, we were in the middle of the city. Like good tourists, we promptly went and ate lunch. But then we went to Trinity College for a tour. Maureen is out shopping for a grad school - she's graduating early, and going for a PhD or something in osteoarchaeology - so she's using that as an excuse to visit some pretty wonderful places.


Trinity was the big university in Ireland, and it may still be, I don't know. I didn't take in much of the factual content of our guide's spiel, though I remember the story of the professor who got shot, and obviously more important imformation of that nature.

Our tour guide with college buildings in the background. As you can see, Trinity is in a much older style than Queen's.  

I don't have a lot of photos from Trinity, because I spent most of the time in the library. This is where the Book of Kells is kept. Yes, that's right - the actual Book of Kells. For those of you who may not know, the Book of Kells is a beautiful, illuminated manuscript of the Gospels from the 8th or 9th century. It's said to have been created - or at least begun - in Iona, brought to Kells (in Ireland) because of Viking raids, and finally to Dublin for safekeeping in the 17th century. According to the Wikipedia page on the Book, it's "a masterwork of Western calligraphy... widely regarded as Ireland's finest national treasure."

And I saw it. There's a wonderful exhibit, where pictures and descriptions are up about the history, about medieval illumination, and symbolism, and more. In the final room, they keep parts of the book in a case, open to show the pages.

Upstairs, I walked through the Long Room. This is a long room filled with shelf upon shelf of old books, which are roped off to the general public. There are ladders to the top shelves, and white busts of famous dead people set at the end of each section. Halfway down is a case holding the Brian Boru harp. Though there is no actual historical connection to Brian Boru, the harp is still a precious thing - made in the 15th century, it's one of the oldest Irish harps in existance, and has become a well-known symbol of Ireland.**


Here are some links with pictures:


The first is a fun, photo-filled blog entry on the Book of Kells.*** Please, read it and look at the pictures - it's got more information than I've written, and the Chi Ro page alone is something everyone should see: http://bodyandsawol.wordpress.com/2010/11/11/a-most-mysterious-book/


And this is a picture of the harp: http://www.haverford.edu/engl/faculty/Sherman/Irish/harp.htm The site also has pictures from the Book of Kells, and other interesting things.


But, because I've gone too long without a picture, here's a photo of the ever-lovely Irish countryside. From a lot of people, that might sound sarcastic. I can assure you that from me, it's not. Damp? Grey? Green? Boggy? Love it.


Will write more later...

* "One for sorrow, two for joy..." and so on. I usually only see one.

** It's on the money. It's on the beer.  Everywhere.  

*** YES, A BOG.

My Interesting Day (Many Days Ago Now)

So as not to bore anyone with too many details:

Went to a charity shop, and bought a sweet little children’s book for my baby sister. On the way to the City Centre, lost my NHS card. Walked up and down the street, and couldn’t find it. Went to the optometrist’s office, where the nice receptionist wrote down the number for me to call to get a new NHS card. Went to Primark to wander around, maybe buy some more warm clothes, and wait for my eye appointment. Went to my eye appointment – optometrist and receptionist unbelievably kind, helpful, and friendly. Leaving the office, realized I’d lost the children’s book, and the number I’d stuck in it. Went back to the office where the still-nice receptionist wrote it down for me, again. Was very sad about losing the book, so stopped in at the pharmacy on the way home and bought myself a candy bar, which is something I rarely do on my own unless I’m feeling bad.

Note: My NHS card was dropped through the letter slot a day later. Some nice stranger found it, and took the trouble to return it. I never got the book back, though.

But I got new glasses.