Week One (Long, I know! A lot's happened!)

Well everyone, it's been about a week since I've done any kind of real post, maybe more. Things have been super busy!! The rest of the people in the CIEE program (as well as most of the other international students and freshmen starting at DCU) got in this past Sunday/Monday, so it has been a week full of meeting new people, getting settled in the new place, figuring out class schedules and internships, etc etc, with a little bit of partying and tourism thrown in there for good measure. As I was thrown into all of this directly after a fairly tiring extended weekend in Holland, I've been exhausted and it's just as of this morning that I'm starting to feel human again. (I'm still not unpacked)

This week brought us orientation activities, winding expeditions in search of the neighborhood grocery store/shopping center, pub nights out at a nearby bar (now a favorite) and Arthur's Day (see below). After going through all of this with the program people, I have to say I'm really happy with the group we have here. The CIEE people come from all over the country with all kinds of backgrounds, interests and majors, and for the most part everyone seems genuinely interested in meeting good people and having a good time. Which is all we can ask, right? Well, maybe we could ask for a few more guys to be in the mix, too. Not that the two (2) that we do have aren't wonderful :)

My apartment has 5 bedrooms and a pretty decent sized lounge/kitchen area. As of now I've met two of my roommates, the lovely Meghan (a fellow CIEE-er who hails from equal parts Nebraska and South Carolina) and Alex, a 44-year old Greek. Nice enough, but I gotta say it's a little strange living with a man quite close to my father's age. We also think there is someone else living in room E, but we have never seen this person. A tall-boy can of Miller Draft sitting warm in one of cupboard hints toward someone of the male persuasion, but that's all we got. Room D, to all our knowledge, also remains empty.

College Park is the dorm complex we all live in, 3 large buildings divided into several "houses" oriented around a central courtyard. The setup is actually quite convenient, in that it is conducive to communicating without using our phone credit. I.e., stand in the courtyard and shout up in the general direction of the person's room that you are looking for. Studies have found that the frequency, volume, and general obnoxiousness of this particular mode of communication positively correlates with the number of pints consumed across the street at Matt Weldon's Pub. (My room faces the rear of the building, thankfully)

Once again, after another week in and around the city of Dublin, it has been reinforced that the Irish culture is brilliant, warm, and still endlessly surprising to me. The people, generally, are open to the point of making me incredulous of their openness. After 2 or 3 visits, the bartenders at the pub across the street know our names and greet us loudly and warmly when we arrive, shouting around and joking with us as we sit at the bar and have a good time. People on the street are quick to offer helps if we're lost and confused, and once you get a couple drinks in any one of these people, you've made a new best friend for the night, and longer if you're willing. Without a doubt, the city favors the friendly. The people who get the most out of it are the people willing to walk up to anyone, have a conversation with anyone, share a laugh with anyone. I'm trying to get over whatever remains of my shyness after Argentina, because here it's only holding me back.

Yesterday, in the midst of one of the most touristy things of my life, was one of the most touching experiences that I can remember. All of the international students were invited out to Causey Farm, a working farm-turned-tourist attraction about an hour outside the city. After an hour's bus ride past rolling green hills and the occasional castle, we arrived at the farm and were swept off into a day of forced Irish dancing, drumming, bread-baking, cow-milking, pig-chasing, and bog-jumping, to name just a few of the activities.

The group of international students from DCU was at least 75, possibly up to 100 or so. At the end of the day, we were all gathered into a big meeting hall for a dinner of potato leek soup and the traditional Irish soda bread that we had made ourselves earlier in the day. After the meal, they cleared out the tables and chairs to make a big open space in the middle. A few of the farmhands grabbed instruments and started off the end of the night with a few songs. The owner of the farm said that it was traditional in Ireland to get a group of people together and for people to entertain themselves with dancing or singing or stories or whatever else. He used the Irish word for "visit", which I don't remember but looked up and might be "cuairt". He said that what made the tradition special was that it would never be the same, but would always change based on the people you were with and what they brought to the table in that particular moment.

Groups from different countries got up together to sing songs or do dances unique to them. Tom, a particularly outgoing guy from our group, played harmonica. It took a while, but eventually people were getting up and doing things on their own, sometimes borrowing one of the farmhands' instruments, sometimes singing songs that the entire group could join into, for example we had acoustic guitar versions of "Knockin on Heaven's Door" and an a capella version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing". As fun as this was, the most striking were the traditional Irish pieces given to us by the farmhands and the Causey family.

In a lull when everyone was still a little shy to get up, the owner told us that the kids we had seen running around all belonged to him and his wife, and although most of them had gone to bed one (Rosie, perhaps, about 6 years old) was still up, and asked her if she'd be up for singing a song for everyone. It was clear that the owners and the farmhands were like family, and the little girl was sitting behind the guy playing the guitar. He turned to face her, and started playing very softly, smiling warmly to encourage her. Everyone in the room got entirely silent and watched this beautiful little blonde-haired rosy-cheeked girl shyly start singing:

In Dublin's Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel'd her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus
Alive, alive o!, alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

She was a fishmonger
But sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel'd their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus

She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus

By the third chorus those of us who hadn't known the song (quite famous in Ireland) were able to join in for the chorus. The farmhand accompanying her on guitar would softly sing along with her so that she could keep going if she momentarily forgot the words. The amazing thing was that everyone was singing so softly, so that no one would drown out the voice of the little girl. And through the whole thing she was singing quietly, her big eyes looking around the room at all of us, as if she wasn't quite sure what to do with all the attention, but was proud that all the attention was on her and that everyone was so amazed by what was happening.

Having this song sung by that little girl, and having everyone join in to support her, was the height of this entire experience and actually moved me to tears. It was absolutely an entirely beautiful moment.

The guitarist graced us with quiet soulful versions of two favorites, the Irish "Galway Girl" and Nina Simone's "Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair", which was sad enough to bring a couple of the tears back (why am I such a sap?).

More than anything, I think it was the experience that was moving. To be a part of something like that, so special just as the owner described it, as touristy as the day might have been it was one of the first times that I really felt like I could be at home in Ireland. And it's because they want you to be at home there, they were all so sweet, making sure we had a good time and telling us to come back whenever. It was fantastic. I can't really convey it with words, I really need to start bringing that video camera around with me. *puts it in purse*

That's all for now, classes/internship starts tomorrow so I'll be up bright and early (7:30 wake up call if I want to make it to the gym before work). So once I finish my glass of wine and maybe get some photos up, it's off to bed. I'll check in soon with some tales of this coming week and perhaps of the Netherlands as well.

Keep in touch!! Miss you guys

P.S. The "Black is the Color" above is not the original Nina Simone version, but better captures the tone of what I heard. And it's put to photos of Ireland! How suitable.