Dear Ireland

Dear Ireland,

      How've you been? It's been over a month since I first met you, and I meant to write a long time ago. Oops. School just started for me and the mentality of the final stretch is setting in already. It's back to classroom setting learning for me, I'm afraid, but you began to teach me the importance of travel. To visit new places and make familiar those things which are foreign is more than an escape from the ordinary. Other ways of life are brilliant to dive into.

      Clichés aside, you were magnificent. I'm grateful just to taste what you, the little oft-forgotten island out on the edge of Europe, have been brewing the past few thousand years. And no, it wasn't whiskey (although I'm sure you guys mastered that too. They wouldn't let me confirm for myself). You became your own nation, tenacious and proud. You survived with some of your culture intact after almost a thousand years of English invasions and colonialism, so congratulations! You finally shed the title "British" and became "Irish" for good, except some fussy folks to the north, and for that I'm proud of you.

      It seems you're not so different from America. Dublin, at least - I didn't get to see the old blood that flows through Ireland, the farms in the middle and port cities of the west. The parts I did get to meet reminded me of home in New Orleans. You're a strange beast, filled with people who've been through a lot. Tired and proud. We're like that too. Besides, we both like ignoring the plentiful garbage cans around our fair (if cluttered) cities. We both take our sports seriously (Saints fans to the grave - and yet we'll never be as intense as your loyalty to county teams). We're both old and falling apart in places, but that adds to the local charm. Our streets don't make any sense to outsiders, but we locals don't get lost. Our streets curve around the river, and yours carry all the mad directions of cobblestone roads you've had for centuries.

It's been grand.

      This isn't goodbye - I'll be back one day. More than one day, if I'm lucky. Say hi to Dublin for me, and fuss at Northern Ireland for throwing a tantrum again.

                                Cheers,
                                          Marisa

Saying Goodbye Is Hard.

Coming home after eating our last dinner together was special.  It was our last bus ride all together.  The last time we sung songs in off-key unison. The last time we giggled and laughed at each others jokes. As amazing as I felt, we felt, it was bittersweet. 

     Getting off the bus we had a few minutes to freshen up then back out in front off the apartments to be given our certificates. As Connor, our playful academic advisor, passed the certificates out Luke ,our resident drama queen, started the waterworks. Thus leading to a domino effect, where half the group was left bawling the eyes out. Including me, the biggest mess of the group, having a very close to literal river running down my face into a pool of eyeliner and mascara that settled on the shoulder of whomever I was crying on.
    
      I couldn't say goodbye.  I feel in love hard and quick with Dublin.  The cobblestone streets and rolling green landscapes captured my heart and I wasn't ready to break up. Late that night I toyed with the idea of "missing" my flight and becoming a beggar near St.Stephen's green but I chickened out.

     Waking up Friday morning I fought back tears riding the bus to the airport.  The thought of leaving finally set in and I promise I was on the verge to a panic attack.  I couldn't leave, my life back at home sucked in comparison. My heart was breaking in my chest as we flew over New Orleans.  I saw the superdome and my European adventure was over. One tear escaped my eyes as I begged silently to myself  to go back, Ireland was now my unofficial home. I found a little part of who I was in Ireland.  I grew up. But I couldn't let go, not just yet.

    The moment I got home I took out a clover I picked on my first day and pinned it on my wall. It's a small token to represent something so much bigger. A life changing expirence that brought a whole new meaning to what Ireland really is.

Students are a Silly Bunch

Never have I come into contact with a sillier bunch than young people.

Everything is new to us, we don't have daily existential stress or taxes to worry about, and we've got more energy than anybody older than us. We're curious, we ask questions, and we like thinking that we can all do something revolutionary and create something original. Who knows? Maybe we can, I'm just one of the young and naive.

What I, the young and naive, do know is that random silliness crosses cultural barriers. I've said before that there were Italians all over the place on campus, but there were also Canadians, Russians, Spaniards, Britons, and even a few Irish students. That said, languages didn't matter. Almost all the other student groups were at UCD to learn English, but we all crossed over and made friends out of mutual interest in silliness.

For a few anecdotes:

On Luke's eighteenth birthday, our four Russian friends came up to him and asked him how old he was turning. Upon learning his new age, they pulled his earlobes eighteen times, simply because that is what you do when a friend has a birthday.

When we played Capture the Flag with a bunch of Italians, after a roughly translated explanation, none of them quite understood the point of the game. And yet they ran around tagging everybody anyway. Points for enthusiasm!

One evening, a new group of Spanish kids made a dramatic entrance through our little square of apartments. They paraded the Spanish flag and sang what I'm assuming was the national anthem. I never got their names or why they were at UCD, but they made abundantly clear that they were from Spain.

My second favorite story:

I was coming back from a walk when I saw a guy standing in front of a giant puddle of water. He stood in front of a bush at the foot of the facade of one of the three-story apartments, which had all its windows wide open. In the third floor window was a girl holding a cooking pot filled with water.

I paused to figure out what was going on when he lunged at the bush, and she dumped the water out the window, aiming at the guy on the ground. She ran out of sight giggling, refilled the pot, and returned to her spot at the window.

He saw me looking confused and explained that he'd lost a football in the bushes. The girl had decided to thwart his attempts by pouring water at him. By the looks of the puddle, she was succeeding.

(For closure, Mike, one of our group, came to the Irish guy's rescue and dove into the bush to get the football while the girl aimed water at the Irish guy. The football was recovered and John Wayne rode off into the sunset.)

And my first favorite story:

After visiting Dalkey Castle, we were given an hour to roam around the tourist area of the coastal town of Dalkey. I walked into a little grocery store with a butcher shop and tons of pickled vegetable combinations. One jar said "aubergine," and I asked the cashier guy what that was.

 "You're American, huh?"  Yep, how'd you guess?

We chatted a bit about some different words between Queen's English and American English. He said Americans use a different word for coriander, but he couldn't remember what it was. I had no idea either, so I said good day and wandered around Dalkey further along the same street.

When I was walking back towards the meeting spot along the street, Cashier Guy ran out of the store as I passed, shouted, "CILANTRO! It's cilantro," and returned to the store. I laughed and continued on my merry way.

So, naturally, I want to learn thirty languages now, so I can travel all over and have more experiences like these. Maybe not thirty languages, but I certainly don't want to stay in America all my life!

We're back home! But we're not quite done yet.

So we haven't posted in five or so days... Oops.

What those days have held is more than any of us could possibly type, but I'l try to clean up for what we're missing as best I can!

We have only a few posts left, but we'll keep it engaging for the four of you still reading after our absence.

More to come soon.

Shopping Burns 175 Calories a Hour....Right?

After days of lectures, they let us out of our cages. "They" being a term of endearment to our program organizers and "cage" as in the beautiful UCD campus. 

     Our day out began at Croke Park Stadium touring the museum and hitting balls in a mini version of Hurling and kicked around Gaelic footballs. Then we were given a quick tour during around the stadium. Our tour guide explained the different names for each section around the stadium and we ended our morning with the lunch upstairs, a zucchini and chicken sauce over rice with coffee or tea. After that we were on way to Dublin City center.

     Between the St. Stephens Green Shopping Centre, the Grafton street shops, and the Temple Bar outdoor book seller, I didn't know where to venture off first. Downtown Dublin held more than just shopping opportunities: the music performers on the sidewalks and break dancers changed the atmosphere around the group, shifting from the nostalgic awe we felt earlier that week, to a more modern feel. In groups of two or more our group ventured into the crowded streets, sprinting from store to store; squeezing in as many places as our relatively small time frame of two and a half hours. I speed shopped with my shopping buddy (and over the past days, really good friend) Emily, another UCD high school student from North Carolina.

     The variety of stores me and Emily visited were endless. We visited stateside staples like clothing store American Apparel and beauty haven LUSH, while also spending time in local chains and small boutiques. After two hours in heaven but my feet were in hell! But you know what they say, No pain, No gain and I definitely gained a new wardrobe and a few new cultural experiences throughout that day.

Thirty Minutes Early

This evening on the 24th of July, I was thirty minutes early to our evening study session. The Global Lounge, our principal meeting spot, was closed, as there was no supervisor or student group in there yet. So I sat outside of it in one of the chairs next to the second cafeteria global center building and took in one of the last days of idle time on this trip.

The global building (not sure of its name) is set up as three floors. The top floor is one cafeteria, the one our group eats at. The middle floor is filled with functional things: computers for registered students to use, a post office, a UCD merchandise shop, bathrooms, and vending machines. The lowest floor, where I was, had both a second cafeteria and the Global Lounge (essentially a recreation room and meeting place for international students). The cafeteria is an open room, and the Global Lounge has doors to offices of study abroad coordinators and the lounge itself. Outside it are a few chairs next to the cafeteria, where I sat to take in the cafeteria chatter and relax a bit to record the experience.

This cafeteria was assigned to all the groups from Spain and the new Italian groups that came in soon after our first group left. Their counselors (both Irish UCD grads and supervisors from whichever country they came from) also ate here. This created a trilingual smoothie of hearty chatter which echoed throughout the building up the open stairs in the middle of the whole building.

Someone dropped a fork or cutlery of some kind. The particulars aren't important. What's funny is that as soon as the clatter occurred, everyone in the cafeteria burst into applause in an act of collective sarcasm. It was the best group response I've seen all week.

There are Spanish kids living across the way from the apartment I'm in, but they're quite shy. We've tried to talk to them a couple times, but with no success. The Italian fifteen year olds, on the other hand, will go out of their way to ask you for a cigarette. Ahh, cultural differences. Disappointingly, there are cigarette butts all over campus near curbs and such places of informal teenage gathering. 

Now the meeting is about to start, so I have to end this here. We're working on the late posts presently.

A Day of PR and IN-NOLA Business (with link to radio show podcast!)

Thursday, July 18, 2013

This was the second time we were pulled out of normal program scheduling for weird IN-NOLA things.

First thing in the morning, we had warp ten breakfast thinking we'd leave to meet the Tanaiste  (position is kind of like Irish version of vice president) again and tour Leinster House. We were so wrong.

Turns out there was an entire day of PR in store for us, escorted about and accompanied by Enda Carroll of UCD, Dermot Moloney, and his son Devon again. 

First, we went to city center to Kildare Street to meet Jimmy Deenihan, the Irish Minister for the Arts, Heritage, and Gaeltacht. The meeting was brief, mainly to introduce us to one of the people whose help allowed our scholarship and passage into Ireland. He seemed very curious about us and what sort of people we were to earn such an honor, but he didn't have much time. He gave us each a gift of a book of Irish poetry too.

Second, we did go to Leinster House (home of the Irish government) and got a tour of the place, but we did not get to shake hands again with the Tanaiste. That's okay though, because we got to watch people ask him political questions and him answer awkwardly. Irish politicians are hilariously blunt ("I was relieved when you got removed from your position of power as blah blah blah..."). We sat up on a balcony type thing 

Third, we came back to UCD to eat lunch and meet Gill (pronounced like Jill) from Education in Ireland, another person and organization which allowed us to get into this program. She was actually ecstatic to meet us, and we talked to her about our experiences here and thanked their for all her behind the scenes help.

Last, we went back into Dublin City for a radio interview recording at local Dublin station Newstalk 106-108FM. The podcast is available to listen to online at any time right here:

          http://www.newstalk.ie/player/podcasts/Global_Village/Global_Village_Highlights/27785/1/2007gv_nolan_kids_education_program_exchange_ucd

That night we got back tired and excited because we'd been recorded for our surprise radio debut! 

One heck of a résumé item if you ask me.

          

Gaelic Football at Croke Park

I know, this is way late, just humor me.

So on July 14th, we were all supposed to go to Dvblinia and a scavenger hunt. However, we four were in for something MUCH more interesting. We were lucky enough to get tickets to a Gaelic Football game at Croke Park Stadium courtesy of the Irish Network! Hooray! We went with Dermot Moloney, a member of the Network who was visiting family in Ireland, and his son Devon, who had never been to Ireland before either.

Since none of us had any allegiance for teams (Dermot wasn't from either of the competing counties) and none of us born-and-raised Americans had any idea what was going on prior to entering the stadium, it would have been easy to get detached from the action and bored with the scenery. We had no idea it would be this exciting.

As it turns out, we attended the Leinster Final. For reference, Gaelic Football is played in a couple levels. There are local clubs within the Irish counties, and there are larger groups which are typically the best of those local clubs who represent each county. The two playing teams were Counties Dublin and Meath, the two top teams in Leinster, one of the four Irish provinces. 

Technicalities aside, the game was amazing. I have a new favorite sport. Everybody is faithful to their own counties and viciously competitive, to the point of players starting fights on the pitch. It's not supposed to be a contact sport, but no one minds the rules. Speaking of which, there were three posted rules: no smoking, no drinking in the stands, and no flares. All these and more were broken during the course of the game, making the experience hilariously chaotic for all us newbies.

I'll be looking for a Gaelic Football club in New Orleans when I get back, because between the fun I had watching it and the fun I had practicing it, I want to keep on playing.

Vikings, Jewelry, and Gaelic Football

Note: this post is really about the Tuesday the 16th- sorry for the delay

Nothing all too impressive to report from the morning- just lectures about what has happened in recent times and the usual dash to get in the Starbucks line before everyone else.  After lunch we headed downtown for the Viking Splash tour!  Excitedly hopping onto the truck/boat, we put on our viking hats and set off.  Much to our surprise, the tour guide began to speak in a Northern Ireland accent, making it essentially impossible for us to understand a single word he was saying.  Half the time it didn't even sound like English!  However, we turned it into a fun game and attempted to make out what he was saying or try to guess anyway.  Driving around the city and yelling "ARGHHH" at innocent passer-bys was quite enjoyable.  Sometimes tourists who'd already gone on the tour would yell it right back, and one time we actually got into an "argh"ing war with two kids in the car next to us.  Driving into the water was probably the scariest thing about it.  After getting life jackets and attaching eight massive flotation devices to the duck boat, we literally drove into the water and continued the tour (we didn't get splashed, though), looping back around to give us just a glimpse of what it was like in that part of town.

After the Viking tour we had about an hour of free time to walk around the city of Dublin for a little bit and buy some souvenirs or go shopping.  Many girls (including me) decided to buy one of the Irish Claddagh rings, representing love, loyalty, and friendship.  There are many different traditions and rules that people apply to the way the ring is worn.  For example, if the tip of the heart is facing outwards, it means that you are looking for love.

Once we returned to the UCD campus, we walked back to our apartments, and changed in order to get ready for Gaelic football lesson!!  Our first of the trip!  Most of the 2 hours were spent learning how to actually play the sport and practicing with the ball (it looks like a volleyball but is almost as hard as a soccer ball).  Surprisingly enough, we were actually quite good, and the matches were fun to watch.  Unfortunately, I sprained my finger during one of the warmup drills and was unable to play during the actual game, but it was actually very enjoyable watching everyone run around (skillfully) passing the ball around this way and that.  You have to be so talented to play Gaelic football.  It really is a sport that strains every single muscle in your body, so you have to be fit from head to toe.  Next we're going to try out hurling, so hopefully that works out well.

Scrubbing Bubbles...

         In the weeks leading up to the trip everyone around me was excited, almost as if they were going with me. Sadly my mother was a little too excited while helping me pack. It seems as if she packed me for 2 years rather than two weeks. After the normal everyday necessities like toothpaste and Advil, she also added her personal (borderline OCD) touch by throwing in Lysol, Scrubbing Bubbles, and a bottle of Febreze (all full size). Not only did she decide to pack the whole cleaning aisle at Target, she also packed snacks ranging from simple fun sized candies like Twix to boxes of Cocoa Krispies and Froot Loops.
      Though I admit she was thinking ahead when packing the Vicks vapor rub and duct tape, as they both came in handy. When Erin sprained her finger we made a homemade splint with duct tape and q-tips. The Vicks is particularly handy right now that I'm fighting this cough and stuffy nose. So this is for you Ma: Thanks, but when you help me pack for college, can you leave the scrubbing bubbles at home?

Zaire on Gaelic Football

Let me start this off by say thank you to Mr. Dermot and everyone that with to the GAA Football game. I will be spoke for the other young lady and I when I say we enjoy our self at the GAA Football. Our may not know about Gaelic Football but it. All Gaelic Football is a mix of score, football its a very crazy sport to watch.

Irish Efficiency

The Irish are an efficient people. Compared to Americans at least. Every Irish person I have LTD that has disagreed.

Now, hear me out. I'm not going to trash talk my own country without cause. Honestly, we could take some ideas from them. We're both countries trying to become more efficient, and America needs quite a bit of help.

First off, the plumbing here makes so much sense. Low water pressure everywhere, and two different pressure settings for toilets. Water is not constantly heated here. You have to manually turn on the heater, and in these dorms it is on a timer, so we irresponsible teenagers don't forget about it. 

Transportation is completely different. Bike lanes are everywhere, bus lanes are everywhere (even though bus drivers can be totally rude). Buses are number one for cross country transport. We keep passing ones with labels like Wexford and Belfast as well as ones within Dublin City.

Regarding the eco-friendly, recycling bins are everywhere. Lights are automatic and motion detected, and the hall lights turn off automatically after ten minutes. All the individual light sockets need to be turned on before use. 

Also, they're not afraid of lawsuits or terrorists. Construction equipment is not bright, obnoxious orange but soothing, helpful blue. Glass Nutella jars here wouldn't be unusual to us, but America has overprotective plastic ones which probably originated from somebody suing the Nutella corporation. There is also no metal detector to get into Parliament. Just verification of I.D. is needed to get in.

So really, they're not perfectly efficient, but we're even worse, and we could stand to do way better. At least the folks here are trying to do better with the new UCD residences (dorms). They still use gasoline and cars a lot of times just like us for daily commutes. They don't use solar panels or anything like that as far as I can tell. But we can and should work together to do better.

The Italians on Campus

Note: this is actually about Monday the 15th 

The first cultural difference we learned about Italians was that which we learned on the first morning at breakfast.

Italians do not queue for anything.

This morning was no exception, and the Americans ran en masse to beat them to the cafeteria for breakfast. Alas, we did not succeed, and we were stuck in the daily formation of a straight line of Americans surrounded by a loose funnel of Italians.

Other than that, there is another American program, one Russian program, one Spanish program, and roughly 140 Italians. UCD is a very large language learning school. Fortunately, one of ours, Sheridan from D.C., speaks Italian because she lived in Rome for five years. Yesterday we were playing capture the flag and kept interrupting a simplified outdoor rendition of Midsummer Night's Dream that was their summer project. So naturally, we stayed to watch. When they were done, we asked some of the Italians to play with us. One was relatively fluent, and those friendly ones who spoke pretty good English joined us. Giuseppe, Angelo, Francesco, Marta, Maria, and Sylvia joined, among others. Angelo and Francesco were wearing Batman costumes and ran onto the field yelling "nana nana nana nana" from the sixties Batman show theme,

Naturally, they were the ones I talked to. Angelo was really sweet and curious about everything, he and I sat out of the next game to chatter and help him with his English. A lot of the Americans were really excited to meet the Italians but didn't know how to communicate with them without going too fast. And so, he sat with me on the curb of the parking lot where flags were being captured and we talked about our cultures and where we had been and where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do after high school. This was all yesterday.

Their last day was today. We went over to their section of dorms where they were celebrating, and they ran up to us and asked for a million pictures. Once that was over, the American girls tried to talk to the Italian guys all at once, which thoroughly confused them. Angelo kept looking at me for translations, and eventually we gave up trying to translate and went back to yesterday's conversations. He said he wanted to come for college in America to learn English better and experience something new. We joked about visiting each other, I in New Orleans and he in Naples. When we had to finally go inside for curfew, everybody exchanged some of the most genuine and heartfelt hugs I have ever witnessed.

So yes, we had lectures on Irish music and sport this morning, and I was given three scoops of mashed potatoes with lunch today, and we did a workshop on architecture and practical design where we made chairs out of cardboard, but what we're experiencing here is so much more important than I would have dreamed of. We collectively grew from annoyance at the Italians in line at breakfast to fast friendships within a few days, and then as quickly as they had joined our lives, they were gone.

But Facebook exists, so I think we'll be okay. In the meantime, we'll miss the funnel-shaped queues and the confused looks at American chatter. And that is how we met our first Italians in Ireland.

Fox Gloves and The Legend of Blue #7

(The following events happened on SATURDAY July 13, 2013)

    We started the day with a surprise. I had a small case of jet lag and got lost while the rest of our group faced the not so lavish breakfast we were hoping for. But, we refused to let that kill our spirits as we boarded the bus to Powerscourt Gardens, a beautiful place with so many different species of flowers it would be impossible to count the variety. My amazement turned quickly into nostalgia when little fox glove flowers came into view on the little walking path. Memories of the silly name and its feature role on one of my favorite childhood shows, Dragon Tales, flooded through my mind as I got close. I'll probably remember seeing my little fox gloves forever. We then ate lunch at Lynham's, a small restaurant (founded in 1776!) that served us small finger sandwiches and this amazing soup!

     Then came the bus ride to Glendalough, (Irish for "land between two rivers"), one of the monastic sites in Ireland with a rich history and a beyond beautiful landscape to match. We spent our time there marching up the scenic routes with lush green hills and trees whose height can only be matched by skyscrapers. At the end of the passage we arrived at the lake. The view was breathtaking. The perfect clear water and the green grassy land surrounding was really a sight to see. We spent the ride back to UCD counting the horses and sheep as they passed and simply people watching. 

     We finished out the day in the UCD restaurant eating dinner and headed for the bowling alley! At the Stillorgan Leisureplex we played in groups of 5 or 6 and showed our competitive spirit. I almost won second place, but after a few rounds of all gutter, my spot was taken easily and I dropped to 4th place. While my only strategy was to hit the pins, Erin teamed up with Sheridan, a new friend from D.C., to create the duo SHERIN! But I think the real fun started when a few of us decided to play a game of Quasar, a version of laser tag where we split into color coded groups. We played for about half an hour with a victory for the Blue team (my team of course). As much as I would like to say I was the backbone of the team, the exact opposite is true. I've probably gotten shot at least 100 times and had to charge every other minute. Now, unlike Laser Tag back home where each player picks a nickname, each player was identified by their team color and number on their gun. As we left and got our scores, we discovered that the highest scorer Blue #7 never picked up their scores. They had scored 20,000 more than the next highest scorer and we had no clue who to thank. So now we have the Legend of Blue #7, Terror of Irish Quasar, to thank for our victory that night.  

     

      

    

      

Travel Budgie at a Field in Glendalough

Photo by Marisa

GAA Gaelic Footballer in Action - Team Dublin

Photo by Zaire

Marisa, Erin, Alexis, Mr. Dermot, and I at GAA Football

 

Photo by Zaire

Leinster GAA Football Championship Final, Team Dublin out of uniform. Croke Park, Dublin City

Photo by Zaire

 

Powerscourt Estate Photo

 

Powerscourt Gardens, County Wicklow

Photo by Marisa

A First Look at Traditional Music and Dance

This post is actually about Friday the 12th (the above date is incorrect due to the time zone difference)

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.  The sound of my alarm clock, oh joy.  Fortunately we were allowed to sleep all the way until 10:00, and boy did we need it.  Basically every single person had fallen asleep within 5 minutes after putting their heads down on the pillow- no surprise there.  Dragging ourselves out of bed and attempting to at least look put-together, we headed to the restaurant for breakfast.  After breakfast we had our first lecture of the program about the history of Ireland from St. Patrick to the Reformation.  Stopping for a break halfway through, most students grabbed a quick drink at the Starbucks on campus (most of us were freaking out when we realized that they actually had one; you know how Americans get about their Starbucks).

Finally, after eating a hearty lunch, we all went back to the International Lounge in anticipation of what we'd all been looking forward to that day; the traditional music interactive workshop.  Gathering around our guest like little children waiting to hear a bedtime story, we couldn't help but wonder what foreign instruments were going to be pulled out of the black cases at the front of the room.  The most intriguing of all, however, was most definitely the massive horn shaped like the letter "s".  We heard songs played on instruments such as a mandolin, a bodhrán (a frame drum), and the horn, each one more interesting than the next.  It was almost as if the songs were putting us into a trance.  I remember feeling like I'd drifted off to another world after the music from the horn had been played (there are many different names for these horns I've come to realize, and I don't want to call it the wrong thing, so I'm just going to call it a horn- I'm sorry).  It was the strangest thing! 

But the best was yet to come; after dinner we would get to experience true Irish dancing.  Arriving a little too early at the dance hall, we all sat down in a circle outside and played- you guessed it (or didn't)- duck duck goose.  Unfortunately the grass was slippery, so half of us almost wiped out, which surprisingly made the experience about ten times more enjoyable.  Eventually it was time to go inside, all of us much more excited that we thought we were going to be.  We may be horrible dancers, but hey, having fun with it is all that matters.  We did look quite ridiculous, however, dancing next to some of the students on the program who are essentially Irish dancing professionals.  They knew exactly what they were doing.  Every one of us got up to join at least one of the dances (more like all of them) and had the time of our lives.  Many were even adventurous enough to dance with complete strangers!  All in all, we had quite the exhausting day.  Once again, it took about 5 seconds to fall asleep once we got back to the dorms.  I have a feeling this is what it's going to be like every night from now on...

Also, don't forget to check out the flickr link for more pictures!  We update it daily:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ernge27/sets/72157634564316991/

Irish University Cafeteria Food

Lunch on July 12th. And they say American portion sizes are big!

Chicken provencal, yellow rice, mixed veggies, bread, and cole slaw and a potato salad type thing back in the corner. It was my original intention to get about half these portions, but the lunch servers are quite enthusiastic.

The Rocky Flight to Dublin

This post is actually about our journey to Ireland from the 10th-11th (the above date is incorrect due to time zone differences)

Note: Readers will be subjected to post titles containing puns from Celtic folk songs. I apologize in advance.

Also, if you'll forgive some formatting errors, I'm still getting used to the mobile version!

Arrival in Dublin: 6:55AM.

Oh, boy.

Did y'all know that there's a  Dooky Chase restaurant at the airport? We learned that every place to buy food in that airport has to be at least vaguely New Orleanian. From Popeyes to Dooky Chase.

And now, the flight.

So, the morning of the 10th, we all arrived at the airport in time to check in our bags and meet up with with Mr. D'Arcy, who showed up at 11:30 with two people from Uptown Solar to take protonal photos. Uptown Solar actually enabled the funding for our scholarship: the Irish Network population bought  raffle tickets for a solar panel installation, and the proceeds funded our trip.

We took a billion pictures with our families, Uptown Solar, IN-NOLA, and with three separate canvas banners. Three! If you ever open a business or an organization of Irish people, promotional canvas banners are requirement number one. I was appointed keeper of the smaller IN-NOLA banner for the trip's photos. We said goodbyes and began our journey, accompanied by one Mr. Moloney from the Irish Network.

The TSA screenings were easy, if rushed. Our first fight was short and not so sweet, an hour and a half of cramped and hot quarters with not much air moving around. We then had about ten minutes of time to get to our next flight, and we made it to the second boarding area as they were calling different seating zones to board.

The second plane was comfortable and lovely: six seats across and spacious, well air conditioned, in-flight TV, friendlier staff, and meals onboard due to the duratio of the flight (scheduled to be 7.5 hours). Alexis talked Zaire's ear off during both flights until she passed out on the second flight wrapped up in the green UCD sweatshirt. Some highlights of their conversation included Alexis wanting a pet shark and something about riding on a tiger at her 21st birthday, flanked by lions and giraffes. Zaire tried to listen to music and sleep. Erin read though magazines, occasionally tearing out pages with particularly appealing photos or reading material; she eventually took a Benadryl and passed out as well. I people-watched a little and listened to music in between trying to get some rest and half-watching the peculiar choices of shows on the TV screens.

In-flight screen entertainment was strange: the flight began with How I Met Your Mother and then a How It's Made episode on guacamole. Today I learned that Avocado Technician is an occupation. They then played a BBC-related film called The Quartet, a movie with a lot of old rich English people in it and directed by Dustin Hoffman.

Despite the old Jerry Seinfeld joke, this airline food is actually really good - I had pasta with spinach and alfredo sauce for dinner, (at 1am Ireland time) and they served a cranberry orange muffin for breakfast in the morning (close to 6:30am Ireland time).

We arrived seamlessy at Dublin, picked up our bags, and met a very grumpy immigration official. But we made it to Ireland! While we were waiting for the plane to let us off, we saw some rabbits running through the fields surrounding the runways, and they became a warm, fluffy welcome to Ireland.

Image source: crainsnewyork.com

Zaire's Essay

The connection with New Orleans and Ireland is a strong one. One of the main similarities is that both Ireland and New Orleans have a history of violence. Northern Ireland has dealt with violence for a long time. There was a lot of fighting as the Provisional Irish Republican Army fought for political freedom from the United Kingdom. New Orleans is one of the most violent cities in the United States. People will kill each other over money, drugs, revenge, and gangs. Though the reasons for the violence may be different, the effects on the communities and the youth are the same. Violence in New Orleans is something that is in the news every day. Growing up here is difficult, because the violence is everywhere. I have known many friends that have been affected by violence in New Orleans. A few years ago, I had a friend that was shot, because of a situation that he wasn’t even involved in. As young black man in New Orleans, it is difficult to avoid going down this path. Many young men do not have anything else to do but get in trouble. It’s hard to watch people I know committing crimes and participating in the violence and not being able to do anything to help them. The effects of violence in both New Orleans and Northern Ireland are very similar. Not only are loved ones and friends dying, but also the violence causes so much stress on a community. Not feeling safe in your own neighborhood can cause many emotional and psychological problems. Poverty is another effect of violence in New Orleans and Northern Ireland. When people are worrying about whether or not they are going to die if they leave their house, they stop thinking about everything else, like bills and their health. One of the most significant effects is the number of people being put in prison. Once you are in the criminal justice system, it is difficult to get out and it puts your future at risk. The connection between New Orleans and Ireland is important in 2013, because there is a lot that New Orleans can learn from the violence in Northern Ireland. People in Northern Ireland fought for a greater justice and political freedom. They fought for something that they felt was right. In New Orleans, we are killing each other over things like drugs. If everyone would take a step back to reflect on this, people in New Orleans may realize the stupidity of their actions and the significant negative affect that it is having on our community. New Orleanians need to learn a lesson from the Irish. As a community, we need to come together to fight to rebuild our city and not fight each other.

Introducing my Inanimate Travel Companion

The budgerigar, commonly known as the budgie, is a beautiful variety of parakeet  native to Australia. Adults tend to be about the size of an adult human's hand and wear feathers of vibrant yellows and greens. They are the third most popular pet in the world (after dogs and cats), and are known for their ability to repeat human whistles and phrases.

Mine, however, is made of plastic.

I first saw this idea on a travel forum: somebody had traveled through Europe and taken pictures of his Lego Gandalf minifigure along the way. (Link for the curious) I thought it would be funny to bring a mascot of my own. So, I ended up at Toys R Us in the aisle with all the animal figurines and chose a budgie.

It's so adorable!

After a little budgerigar research, I found out that the figurine in question is female (source), and so I set to name it either something elaborate and French-sounding (think "Bernadette" or "Clementine") or something simple and amusingly unfit for a parakeet (think "Wanda" or "Dolores").

I decided on Evangeline. Evangeline the pocket-size plastic budgie.

The name Evangeline came from honoring local Cajun heritage and from one poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow about Acadians falling in love while being run out of Canada. Also, in Disney's Princess and the Frog, the goofy Cajun firefly's romantic interest was a star he called Evangeline.

She will be more well-traveled than actual feathery budgies, and you'll see her in some of the pictures I post on here. Hopefully she'll come with me wherever I happen to travel, to Ireland and beyond!

Three Cheers for the Irish Network!

Specifically, the Irish Network New Orleans.

Thanks to them, we four lucky people are headed to Ireland on this wonderful program which we keep going on about.

The Irish Network New Orleans (or IN-NOLA) are, well, a network of people who are either Irish, Irish-American, or simply have connections to Ireland. The network is a New Orleans community made up of those who value Irish culture and want to preserve and promote it in America. What's brilliant is that it's not for only Irish people - anybody can become a member, really: no one is excluded based on individual demographic information. 

That said, none of us four going to Ireland are actually Irish, and only one has traceable Irish ethnic ties. 

It really does make sense though! The network itself is diverse, and so should be the entrants for the scholarship. The only thing they used in order to judge us was our essays: what let us stand out was our minds, not our ethnicities. The policy of inclusion is a solid reiteration of the network's goal to teach everyone, not just Irish people, that Ireland is a cool and worthwhile country.

Because the Irish know that already, and we're certainly going to learn too.

I'm still trying to figure out how to add the IN-NOLA logo and a link to their website in the sidebar, so in the meantime...

For more information, the Irish Network New Orleans website is right here.

How Zaire Got Into This Thing

Let me tell you a crazy story about how I got into this.

At first, it was not my intention to do the scholarship program. But, I'm happy I did it.

The after school program that I attend. One of the tutors pulled me and a friend of mine to the side to tell us about the scholarship. At  first I did not care about it. So, I waited a few hours; then I started the 500 word essay. It took my friend and myself a few hours to finish our essays. The tutor helped us with the corrections and made sure we met the deadline of entry into the scholarship contest.

A few days passed and I said to my friend,  "Let's start looking for a summer job," because I didn't think we would be one of the ones to finalize and win. I told my friend that I would like to be working for the summer. I didn't have the patience and time to be waiting around to find out if I was going to be one of the finalists.

And, by luck or faith (don't know which one it was), I received the email telling me I was one of the finalists. I was shocked and surprised - I wasn't expecting it! But, now I'm on my way to the experience of a lifetime.

So, I would like to say to the Irish Network, thank you for the opportunity.

Zaire, NOLA to DUBLIN!!!!!! With three other wonderful finalists. SMILE!!!!!

More About the Program

University College Dublin

More about the Summer High School Program

(or "Programme" as the Queen's English of the website states)

So what exactly are we doing? Why are we high schoolers going to a college overseas in the middle of July?

Technically, what we're doing is like a summer course in Irish Studies, plus some more modern courses at the UCD campus. There is a maximum total of 50 students in this program, all high schoolers. 

Included in the program are plenty of workshops and a few field trips, but none requiring more than a thirty minute drive by the looks of it. You see, Ireland is roughly the size of Ohio, and the Irish think we're nuts for driving four hours to visit our relatives for the holidays. Go figure. 

I've got a printed list somewhere of everything we'll be doing...

***

...Alright, found the list! Here's a highlight reel, taken from the 2012 program brochure: 

• Céili dancing
• Introduction to Gaelic football & hurling
• Viking Splash Tour 
• Kilmainham Gaol and IMMA
• Natural History Museum
• National Gallery
• Croke Park Museum
• Photography competition
• Neolitic Tomb at Newgrange

• Glendalough, Co. Wicklow

Matter of fact, here's a link to the brochure for exactly what we're doing!

Provisional Outline of Schedule, UCD Summer School 2013 (PDF)

Image source: ucd.ie

How Marisa Got Into This Thing

Like many New Orleanians, I've spent many a St. Patrick's Day at the parades, catching cabbages and watching the trees get blanketed with plastic beads.

We lived within walking distance of the parade route, so my neighbor would open the doors to his garage and have a party.  It was converted to a sports bar type of thing, complete with all the New Orleans paraphernalia, Elvis accessories, mismatched couches, and various other things a proper garage sports bar ought to have. But anyway, he'd invite all sorts of people: neighbors, family, friends, and business friends, and every St. Patrick's Day was a great big pot luck with a brisket going all day and tailgating-style food, with beer and whiskey drinks available for the grown-ups. We neighborhood kids were stuck with the kiddie cooler, filled with as many flavors of Capri Sun as were available at Rouses. 

The soundtrack always began with whatever Party City had deemed Irish that year, and ended with Texas roadhouse karaoke, in the true American way.

And that was my introduction to the Republic of Ireland.

***

So, fast-forward a couple years, I'm now in high school.

My school's college counselor regularly forwards emails to everybody about random scholarships, college visits, summer program opportunities, etc. One day, an email caught my eye: this one promised a full scholarship to a two-week summer program at UCD in Dublin. The only requirements were a 3.0 GPA and a well-thought-out 500 word essay on why Ireland and New Orleans should be friends.

All I knew about Ireland was what I'd absorbed from the parade culture (mostly about alcohol and the color green), and that the people had been fighting among themselves for nearly a century (I had no idea why, but I did know the country was split in two because of it).

Nevertheless, of course I decided to apply, because two weeks in a new place with new people sounds exciting! Especially overseas. Plus I could be one less American who doesn't know what's going on outside the states.

***

And so, I opened the email.

I remember looking at the application, immediately filling out the easy part (name, contact information, GPA, the usual), and then waiting til nearly the last minute to write the essay. There were two different dates listed as the deadline, which confused me, and I know I panic-emailed Ms. Caruso (my school's college counselor) a bunch of times. I wrote my essay a couple days before the due date and made sure to edit it so that it didn't compromise my nervous mind.

Thankfully, she was patient, and the gods of fortune and eloquence were kind, and so here I am!

Image sources: wwltv.com, tripadvisor.ie, respectively

How Alexis Got Into This Thing

      Hi! Let me start by introducing myself, my name is Alexis Calderon and I'm one of four finalists for this scholarship (obviously). So how did I arrive at even hearing and applying for the scholarship? Simple.

I was tricked.

Yes, I was tricked but the outcome was well worth it. My friend wanted to stay after school for tutoring and like the good friend I am I stayed with her, staying unwitting to her true intentions. After about ten minutes of "tutoring" she dragged me to Mr. Gallin's classroom to get some imaginary paperwork, where she soon after ditched me, only replying "Its for your own good!" when I asked her where she was going. I didn't know it at the moment, but my friend had put me in the right place at the right time whether I liked it or not. In that room that afternoon I received an application for the scholarship and decided a closed mouth doesn't get fed so I started writing an essay.

     About 3 grueling hours later I came up with an okay rough draft. The same teacher from earlier helped me revise and through that I found my biggest problem (besides grammatical errors) was that I didn't know enough about the actually place. I only knew that Ireland was the native home of fashion designer JW Anderson. I became culturally aware that Ireland was alike New Orleans because of educational and economic reasoning. This essay was no longer about going to Ireland to see if i could shop at the United Kingdom retailer Primark it was my chance to get out of my little fishbowl of ignorance and explore a place I've never been. American can be known for its lack of knowledge when it comes foreign affairs but I didn't want that to be me. So this could really be the first step in a globally aware me.

      After completing the essay I waited and waited until the email arrived. Once I read that I was a finalist I was past excited, past ecstatic, words can't and won't ever describe that feeling I felt. I worked on my video the next day at school and sent off my finishing touches to my final entry, praying and hoping. Fast forward through the gala and those minutes after winning with the other finalists due to the generosity of the people in the room and people I've never seen will probably be the most exhilarating moment ever. I felt vindicated. It felt as if the weight of the world was finally lifted off my shoulders after weeks of doing of no sleep and random mood swings. I can finally breathe and now in the weeks before the trip of a lifetime, I'm back to those random mood swings and no sleep, not because of stress from the unknown but because of excitement for what's to come.

How Erin Got Into This Thing

It's Sunday, February 17th at 4:00 in the afternoon.  I've just gotten back from my Spring Break college-hunting trip in the Northeast.  Exhausted from countless hours of driving and alarms set to 6:30 pretty much every single morning, I collapse onto the couch and nonchalantly check my email for anything I might have missed over the break.  Urban Outfitters: "Last chance to get free shipping on all orders," delete.  Flickr: "New photos from amkayla," delete.  Collegeboard: "The Official SAT Question of the Day," delete.  Mr. Graf: "Irish Network New Orleans' scholarship program," click.

The whole school year I had been searching for some kind of summer program to participate in, and none of them really struck my fancy.  This one, however, stood out to me for some reason.  Well, actually not just for some reason.  My family heritage traces back to Ireland, and I feel like this connection is what made UCD's program appealing to me.  

At first I thought, How am I going to get all this paperwork filled out, bring it to a lawyer to get notarized, figure out what I am going to write about for my essay, write the actual essay, AND ask someone to look over it with me all in the next 24 hours??  There was no way that an essay written in such a short time period would get me anywhere.  However, it sounded like too much of an incredible opportunity to simply pass it up and say that 24 hours was not enough time.  I could do it.  So I ignored all the schoolwork I still had left to finish for the next day and began to fill out the application.  I may have had to pull an almost-all-nighter to finish everything, but I'm pretty sure anyone would say that it was worth it.  

It's the next day.  I'm sitting on a bench outside Newman waiting for my mom to come with the sealed paperwork, 4:08 p.m., about an hour before everything is due.  4:09 p.m.  4:10 p.m.  I'm beginning to get restless.  Suddenly, my mom pulls up.  Scrambling to the car, I yell a quick "Thanks, mom!  Love you!" and then run back inside to the nearest scanner.  My hands are almost shaking.  I have to get this in on time.  I fumble for the flash drive, plug it in to my computer, and open up my email.  4:27 p.m.  Looking over my essay one last time, I place all the scanned documents into one email, and hover my finger over the left clicker.  Let's just check it over one more time, I think, paranoid that I may have overlooked a mistake.  But time is running out.  Forcing myself to just click the button already, I send the email off to the Irish Network, my hopes and prayers not too far behind.

Lesson learned: 24 hours is always enough time.

Marisa's Essay

Why is the connection between New Orleans and Ireland important in 2013?

If you ask a New Orleanian what they immediately associate with Ireland, they will probably say St. Patrick’s Day parades. In New Orleans, that means beads, kisses on the cheek in return for plastic flowers, green outfits to avoid being pinched, and American-brewed whiskey and celebration of questionable genetic ties to some fellow who immigrated here in the mid-1800s and happened to be from Ireland. A person’s knowledge of St. Patrick’s Day and the entire Republic of Ireland can be boiled down to alcoholism, short angry pugilistic folk, and even the Fighting Irish mascot for Notre Dame... Nothing to do with Ireland, really, or even St. Patrick for that matter.

This is terrible, because both Ireland and New Orleans are so much more than that.

Ireland is a land of rich culture and history- something truly ancient, a quality which New Orleans and America in general do not possess. Ours is a young nation, not even 300 years old, and although the Republic of Ireland doesn’t reach before World War II, the people’s historical legacy goes back millennia. The oldest buildings in New Orleans go back to the mid-1700s, which is nothing compared to Ireland: old monasteries go back a thousand years, not to mention the tombs and forts which go back more than 5000 years. Five thousand years ago, Orleans back in France would not exist for several millennia, let alone New Orleans.

Mark Twain once said that travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness. Along the same line, through a partnership of any kind, we can learn from each other. Each of our local music has a selective affinity for the fiddle: in New Orleanian Cajun music and in Irish traditional folk music. New Orleans even has an entire accent which evolved over a few short generations from the children of Irish immigrants: the Yat dialect. This connection between is important to teach each other on levels both superficial and profound. By learning about each other’s current culture and lifestyles, we establish a bond and develop a better respect for each other as humans.

In conclusion, we can teach each other about ourselves and to look past any preconceived notions based on stereotypes or political rubbish. Because Ireland and New Orleans both have rich traditions far beyond the craziness of Mardi Gras and Bourbon Street and beyond St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans, both have more value than the associations with alcohol we both carry. Our lands have more substantial things in common than fiddles, Catholicism, and revelry. The connection between Ireland and New Orleans is important so we can learn those things we have in common and bridge the gap between our cultures, not so that we are the same, but so that we know and respect each other.

Marisa Thomassie, 2013

Erin's Essay

Why is the connection between New Orleans and Ireland important in 2013?

New Orleans has a very strong connection to the Irish people and the culture they bring to the city.  The city is famous for being a melting pot of many different cultures and traditions, the Irish being one of them.  Just as it is important to maintain the connection between New Orleans and France or Spain, it is also important to keep the connection between New Orleans and Ireland just as strong, for many have yet to realize that the Irish actually had a huge impact on the Crescent City.

The port city of New Orleans was a major hub for immigration to the United States, and during the 1840’s in particular due to the Great Famine, masses of Irish immigrants came over to seek shelter in their time of need.  They influenced the city’s economy, social life, cuisine, and architecture.  One of the most famous Irish buildings in New Orleans is St. Patrick’s Church, which was constructed because Irish immigrants wanted to attend church services in English rather than French.  Gallier Hall, which is a huge part of New Orleans history, was designed by James Gallier, Sr., a man of Irish descent.  During Hurricane Katrina, when the city was completely destroyed by the effects of the storm, the Irish government sent over one million dollars to Red Cross to help reestablish the city and bring it back to what it once was.

This obvious act of kindness demonstrates the bond between New Orleanians and the Irish.  This kind of bond is something that is important to uphold today, for without the Irish, where would we be?  Without New Orleans, what would have happened to those who were starving during the Great Famine?  We cannot simply dismiss the fact that Ireland has a place in our history.  It has shaped our culture and helped to define what New Orleans is today.  There is even an entire section between Uptown and the Lower Garden District entitled the Irish Channel, home to many of the original shotgun houses.  This is an area in which many Irish workers lived, an area in which they felt safe and were able to feel a sense of community.  The name remains the same today, for changing it would be like changing history.  Saint Patrick’s Day is another one of the many traditions that New Orleans celebrates annually.  With parades running through Uptown and in Metairie, it’s not just a day in our city; it’s a huge celebration that New Orleanians recognize as an important part of our history.

Given the hints of Irish culture left here and there throughout New Orleans, it is impossible to brush off the fact that Ireland holds a major place in our city.  We cannot simply disregard it as unimportant to the city.  The connection between New Orleans and Ireland is important because we have been there for each other in times of need.  We share a past, and it only makes sense that we should share a future as well.

Erin Reily, 2013

Alexis's Essay

Why is the connection between New Orleans and Ireland important in 2013?

      The connection Ireland and New Orleans may not be apparent to some but there are strong, distinctive qualities that bring both places together in ways that are still important and relevant in 2013.

      Both New Orleans and Ireland have faced hardships head on and have come back with a resilience that has made them stronger than they were in the past. The collapse of Ireland’s economy in 2008 parallels New Orleans going through Hurricane Katrina. Ireland’s economic crash caused a huge spike in unemployment, foreclosures, and expensive bailouts for big businesses, sending them into a recession.  Hurricane Katrina had similar impacts; the misplacement of residents and billions of dollars of destroyed infrastructure. Though Ireland’s and New Orleans’ loss wasn't a disaster of the same origin, both places came crashing down from being the best. The restructuring done by both places is inspiring and sheds an even greater light on the importance of their connection. New Orleans has come back with a fighting spirit, quickly building from the ground up.  Since Katrina, New Orleans has rebuilt many of their blighted neighborhoods, has hosted major events like Super Bowl, and survived the Gulf oil spill. Ireland has also come back in amazing ways, such as changing g in banking structure and reform of the labor market and taxation.

      Also New Orleans is trying new measures in education, just like Ireland. The connection between these two efforts is that both places are moving away from private institutions and beginning to strengthen their public education system.  This connection is especially in that both are taking the risk which will affect many students’ education and future. New Orleans can take a valuable lesson on what does and does not work when it comes to education and the same goes for Ireland.

      In 2013, this connection is important because as two very different places going through similar things of equal relevance, both Ireland and New Orleans can learn from each other and grow beyond belief. The connection between Ireland and New Orleans is stronger than most and is more important than ever. This connection is a great resource for both places, which is probably the best part of the alliance between them, and   is greatly appreciated this just shows how the most unlikely of relationships can work out to be truly magical and helpful to both parties.

Alexis Calderon, 2013

The Essays Themselves (updated with LINKS!)

So how'd we earn this trip?

To put it simply, there was an essay contest.

Irish Network New Orleans (IN-NOLA), the local attachment to IN-USA, was offering a scholarship. According to the forwarded email:

This summer, IN-NOLA will be sending some deserving New Orleans high school juniors to University College Dublin to attend a two week summer program designed to show high school students a glimpse of college life in Ireland.

Each of us heard about it different ways (our individual stories are linked below), but the application was the same. The only real requirement was a GPA at or above a 3.0, and the application asked for only some basic contact information. The only way to distinguish ourselves from the rest was the application essay:

"Please tell us in 500 words or less why is the connection between New Orleans and Ireland important in 2013?"

At least they asked politely.

Essentially, we had to convince them that we understood their motive behind sending four high school kids across the pond.

But hey, free trip to Ireland, right?

And so, we took to our keyboards, did a little research, and away we went.

Each of our stories: (not updated yet - still working on it!)

• Alexis
• Erin
• Marisa
• The mysterious Zaire

Each of our essays:

• Alexis
• Erin
• Marisa
• The elusive Zaire: http://fromnolatoucd.blogspot.com/2013/07/zaire-essay_9.html

Greetings! Let us introduce ourselves.

Chicken silliness aside, let's get started.

Hi there! 

We are a few American high schoolers who entered and won an essay contest for a scholarship to a University College Dublin summer program, courtesy of Irish Network - New Orleans. In the program we'll attend the same classes, participate in the same activities, and go on the same field trips as the other 46 American students participating in the same program. We won't be tourists in Dublin, we’ll be the weird foreign kids who decided to take college courses on Irish history, culture, sport, and such over the summer for fun. 

We'll be sent overseas to Ireland in mid-July of 2013, at which point we'll begin to relay our adventures on here for our two-week stay. In the meantime, we’ll post about our preparations and thoughts leading up to the trip.

***

The original intent for this blog was to document our daily experiences for future participants in UCD’s high school summer program and to communicate with our folks back home about what we’re doing.

However, we want to make this entertaining for people to read.

Therefore, it will be a journal: from our triumphant arrival at 7am on a bright Dublin morning, to complaints about foreign cafeteria food, to missing home, to not missing home, and everything in between.

So welcome! Friends, family, Irish Network folks, and internet strangers, all. Get some popcorn and an iced tea and enjoy.

Image source: Tumblr. Prior source unknown.