"I'm not buying you a fucking gin tonic." Part I

So hello everybody, I've missed you.

I'm attempting this post now, at 9:43 pm on Thursday evening, and let me just say that I will be extremely impressed with myself if this gets done before Monday. Why? Well, let me just say that I am BUSY. I know that a lot of you probably know what I'm talking about seeing as you're either coming through or just came through midterm season, but honestly, I don't even remember what it feels like to be well-rested. Since about 2:30 this afternoon I've felt as though I'm seconds away from collapse. And as I start this I'm in bed under my comforter, eyes heavy. But I miss this blog, and even more than that I miss your comments. The difference in the frequency of posts between this month and September physically pains me. So I'm going to try.

As many of you know, a couple weeks ago I took a trip with my group from CIEE to the West. In four days we hit Westport, Connemara, and Galway. There are some pictures up already, and if I have time I'll get the rest up this weekend, but I'll post a direct link to the album for all of you non-facebookers out there.

It was a great trip. We stayed in a lovely adorable little hotel in Westport, which is a lovely adorable little town that has maybe 5 or 6 little pubs, all on the same street. CIEE took care of us - our hotel was three stars and each night we had delicious 3 course dinners and full Irish breakfasts every morning if we could haul our still-drunk asses out of bed in time to enjoy them, all paid for by the program.

The reason we were out west wasn't for a vacation (although after hostel beds and the rock-hard number I have in my dorm room it was close enough for me). In our CIEE core course, History and Culture of Modern Ireland, we were at the time studying the Great Irish Potato Famine, which I actually have a rather large paper (10+ pages) due on in about 48 hours, which naturally I haven't started. The west of Ireland was the region hit most harshly by the famine, so the museums that we were going to were originally the homes of wealthy landlords who evicted their poor, dying, peasant tenants and the sites that we were seeing tended to be the sites of Famine monuments or memorials. The trip actually would have been quite depressing if it wasn't for the fact that we have a great group and that that part of the country is actually mind-blowingly beautiful.


I don't feel the need to go into details of the museums, they're your standard "what a horrifying rift between rich and poor" fare. And, well, the monuments you can see for yourselves in the pictures (which, because I'm me and I love to write, generally come with very descriptive explanations of historical or sociological importance). So if you're interested, I would encourage you to check those out. What made the trip was the people, the fun, the being away from the city and classes, and the beauty of the location. And so, I present to you...

Part One: The Land.

We saw Croagh Patrick and Connemara on our first full day. Croagh Patrick is a mountain named for the infamous Saint Patrick, about 20 minutes drive outside of Westport, where we were staying. Climbing it is considered to be an act of pilgrimage for Irish Catholics. Even going a TINY fraction of the way up was tough for us, many of whom were battling hangovers from the night before (oops). Regardless, you didn't have to go very far up to get amazing views - as the name "Westport" implies - the city (and the mountain) are right on the Western Irish coast, meaning from our post near the base of the mountain we could still see out into the islands that littered that area of the coast - lucky for us, the weather was gorgeous and the views were pretty spectacular.

(ali iannotti, ladies and gentlemen)

Afterwards, on to Connemara, the heart of Famine country. Connemara is a region that straddles the counties of Mayo (where Westport is) and Galway, home of (predictably) Galway City, one of Ireland's main cultural centers and the birthplace of the Claddagh ring - you know the one I mean. There isn't really a whole lot going on in Connemara. Most of the landscape is wayyy to mountainous to make farming or settlement feasible and the flat land is mostly bog, meaning the earth is too transitional to make developed transport feasible. Thus, we all piled in to the stuffy, airless, smelly bus for a 2-3 hour drive over the Connemara bog roads, which are never greatly invested in because they'll only have to be redone in a couple years anyway. I felt like CRAP. I hate buses. We all know this.

So, after being virtually unable to look out the windows for most of the journey, I was overjoyed when Don said we'd be making a stop. All I could think about was fresh air. The second the bus stop I flew out of my seat, up the aisle, and down the stairs. When outside, I gulped the fresh air and looked up to this:


RIDICULOUSLY gorgeous, and this was just our first glimpse. The whole group of us just milled about the area, completely stunned by our surroundings. The mountains towering around us on all sides, the mirror-like reflections in the water, the crystal-clear skies - we were very fortunate, I consider it a miracle that for the entire trip the typical Irish fog and rain was kept at bay. Alas, once we got back on the bus, I was again indisposed and could only sneak quick glances out at the scenery around us. Luckily, I had Will, who has a very masculine fascination with expensive toys and was thus more than happy to take over the use of my camera to document the surroundings.

As beautiful as the scenery was, it was tempered by the area's history. The same roads that we were standing and driving on had been walked 150 years ago by the dying poor in search of assistance from their wealthy neighbors, assistance that the landlords and the gentry, largely of English or Anglo-Irish descent, were unwilling to give. There was a huge level of animosity between the English and the native Irish, who made up the vast majority of the peasant class, and they Irish were undoubtedly considered the lowest of the low within their very own country. It is a very sad truth that the English had the means to assist the Irish during this natural disaster, which more than halved the national population in a space of 3 or 4 years, a loss of population that came from disease, malnutrition, and mass emigration in order to escape what was essentially a dying country. The loss of life and the lack of action on the part of the English (although at the time the Irish were considered - politically - to be British citizens), was so bad in fact, that the purpose of the paper I'm to be writing this weekend is to analyze on what level the Famine was a natural disaster, and on what level it could be considered a genocide by the English of the native Irish. (Heavy stuff, I know.)

Anyway, Croagh Patrick and Connemara were without a doubt the most notable parts of the trip from a traveling perspective. Galway was a cool city, but by then the weather had caught up with us and in the middle of the day on a Friday there really wasn't a lot going on. It's another port city, much larger than Westport, that plays host to one of Ireland's major universities and is as such a great cultural center with a lot of cool restaurants, pubs, and shops. But, as we only had a few hours to explore the city, it probably has more to offer that I haven't seen.

That's all for now - I have to say that I am pretty impressed with myself that I got a post up tonight - just an hour ago it was a brutal battle to keep my eyes open for any significant period of time. Please, comment away - a side effect of being this busy and tired is that I've been feeling extra isolated these days, and I'm missing being able to see and talk to you guys more than I can really express. As always (and maybe even a little bit more now) your comments mean the world to me and I love hearing from all of you.

Also, if you want to send something a little more tangible, it only costs a dollar or so to send a letter. The address is up in a previous post, and I cannot even describe the feelings of joy and well-being that overwhelm me when there's mail (and I don't get much). I can safely say that I would love you forever.

You can see the rest of the pictures from Croagh Patrick and Connemara HERE. More photos (from Galway, etc) to come.

Stay tuned for Part II: That One Time In Ireland When It Was Kinda Like I Had A Social Life.