I am utterly mistified by the hold this city has on my imagination. It makes me frolic, dream, and suddenly become quit while I watch crowds roll by me. I feel, proper time permitted, I could come to some conclusion about the existence of music if I were to rest here long enough. Note to self: take a trip just to Kilarney, Galway, and Dublin someday. Three completely different places, all the country inbetween.
We spent the past five days in Sligo and Droheda. Both cities, or towns I would call them, are near some amazing neolithic cites: such as New Grange and some lovely Victorian places (Yeats' church/ burial and Sligo Abbey where Bram Stoker was born); none of them, however, are very healthy places. You feel dirty the entire time (despite the beauty they are near) it's always grey (rather like Detroit), and there's really not much to do. Always the low point of the trip. But now we're in Galway and it's beauty from here on out.
The streets all run into one another to avoid the river and the pubs are filled with music, old men, and tourists. Twentysomethings mill about looking for purpose and find it through every means of expression you can imagine while the old men smile at them. I think there's some sort of instant agifier in Western Ireland. You are young, young, young, and then old! Not a bad way. I can't wait to be old, I am enjoying being young, I dread middle age. Yikes.
The radio is Ireland's only major downside. So much talking! Three songs, then ten minutes of gab, two songs (the ends usually cut off with talking) and then the news. So sad. However, we have heard everything from Will Smith to Abba to Frank Sinatra, so props to the DJs when they actually choose the music.
We went to the cliff's of Moher today, that's a post to itself. Tomorrow is Coole Park where Lady Gregory lived and hosted the famous creative genius of Ireland. So excited. Swans.
I love Galway, I still miss Dublin a bit. I have a lot of gift shopping to do.
The ocean side has made me very sick for the Chesapeake bay. Odd how we find our home's landscape in the most foreign places.
I do apologize for any spelling errors. I simply don't feel like fixing them.
Cheers!
hannah.abigail.margaret.oliver.depp.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Auntie Naomi and Dublin
Very sad news from home today. My lovely little Aunt Naomi died a few days ago. She was utterly ready to go Home, but it's hard to imagine family life without her fantastic, quietly sarcastic and bitchy self. She taught me the art of retort and hated holding hands.
We leave for the west of Ireland today. Dublin has been a fantastic host as usual. I'm exhausted from explaining how to walk, though. Yesterday several of us just got up and began walking like normal people. 5 of us would arrive at a site and then 5 minutes later the rest of the herd would show up. It's not hard. I'm always mistified by Carson-Newman students difficulty with walking.
I will miss Avalon house (our current hostil). Swell people who play great music and people from Glasgow who speak Spanish.
Next hostil doesn't have internet and money will be tight, as my bank account is in a sense frozen until my mother gets back from Aunt Naomi's funeral. I had expected more to go into my checking account for the second half of the trip, but more important things are being taken care of! Luckily the west is about a quartar of the price of Dublin. I wish we hadn't started out with the most expensive city first. The trip definitely works better starting in the country and heading east.
In other notes, St. Patty's cathedral has 3 candles lit for my Irish Studies professor at his request. The man is a lovely arse and I'm happy to oblidge. We ate Fish and Chips yesterday, salty, hot, vinegar goodness.The Dublin Writers Museum is beautiful; filled with quotes, portraits, timelines and crossovers. I would live there.
The Irish Uprising of Easter 1916 is a main topic of study on the trip, so we had a tour with Lorcan Collins, a major Dubliner and historian. He's a friend of the college and has a major gift of gab. I loved talking with him, it is certainly an excercise in sarcasm and BS. Beautiful. I wish we had more time just to hang out with him, but this trip he has kids to take care of. Even Lorcan is growing up, sheesh.
Must log off now. I am finding the real impact of this trip inexplainable. Perhaps philosophy will poor forth soon. Suffice to say the pace of Dublin and the beauty of Saint Stevens Green (filled with statues of Oscar Wilde and riddled with bullet holes from several risings) fits my post undergrad mind quite well.
Slante-
hannah.abigail.margaret/ HaRingo/ HAMO/ whatever endearment you've come up with...
We leave for the west of Ireland today. Dublin has been a fantastic host as usual. I'm exhausted from explaining how to walk, though. Yesterday several of us just got up and began walking like normal people. 5 of us would arrive at a site and then 5 minutes later the rest of the herd would show up. It's not hard. I'm always mistified by Carson-Newman students difficulty with walking.
I will miss Avalon house (our current hostil). Swell people who play great music and people from Glasgow who speak Spanish.
Next hostil doesn't have internet and money will be tight, as my bank account is in a sense frozen until my mother gets back from Aunt Naomi's funeral. I had expected more to go into my checking account for the second half of the trip, but more important things are being taken care of! Luckily the west is about a quartar of the price of Dublin. I wish we hadn't started out with the most expensive city first. The trip definitely works better starting in the country and heading east.
In other notes, St. Patty's cathedral has 3 candles lit for my Irish Studies professor at his request. The man is a lovely arse and I'm happy to oblidge. We ate Fish and Chips yesterday, salty, hot, vinegar goodness.The Dublin Writers Museum is beautiful; filled with quotes, portraits, timelines and crossovers. I would live there.
The Irish Uprising of Easter 1916 is a main topic of study on the trip, so we had a tour with Lorcan Collins, a major Dubliner and historian. He's a friend of the college and has a major gift of gab. I loved talking with him, it is certainly an excercise in sarcasm and BS. Beautiful. I wish we had more time just to hang out with him, but this trip he has kids to take care of. Even Lorcan is growing up, sheesh.
Must log off now. I am finding the real impact of this trip inexplainable. Perhaps philosophy will poor forth soon. Suffice to say the pace of Dublin and the beauty of Saint Stevens Green (filled with statues of Oscar Wilde and riddled with bullet holes from several risings) fits my post undergrad mind quite well.
Slante-
hannah.abigail.margaret/ HaRingo/ HAMO/ whatever endearment you've come up with...
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Greenland Calls my name!
Back in Ireland after two years. Dublin remains much the same, but the commercial McDonaldization continues to spread into the otherwise pure city.
We landed at 9 AM Irish time (4 AM Eastern Central US) and made for the hostel. By 12 we had shopped, made lunch, settled in and were off to see Trinity College Dublin. I am a little week on my feet, partly due to the exhaustion of graduation/ goodbyes and a cross oceanic flight! It's all worth it though.
I wish I could describe the smell of the long room to you. It's like... well, perhaps you don't have my obsession with old books? Think of your favorite smell wafting toward you from afar. Now, think of being in your favorite place. Combine the two. Now mutliply by 10 and compact it all into a three story, 200 foot long room built just to suit your taste and subconscious... I wander that room and all of my dreams are brushing against my ankles, welcoming me home.
If I ever dissapeare, first check the Young Republicans of Carson-Newman College. If it turns out they didn't murder me, look for me in the Long Room. I may be past out somewhere neer the Yeats collection.
They were also having a special exhibit on both the book of Kells (amazing early Latin translation of the first four gospels) and on Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Age of Detective fiction.
Sherlock was my first literary crush. He even predates (and outlives) Mr. Darcy. Who wants undying affection when you can have footprints and cruel wit?
That's not healthy, but I'm tired.
We discuss Oscar Wilde today in class ("class" means us sitting down and talking about the days reading) and I will have to control myself from weeping "he's beautiful!" over and over.
Alright, I am utterly exhausted and will ramble until dawn, but it's rude to use the public computer for too long. If you are reading this, chances are I love you immensly and thank you for taking the time to worry about me.
The green continues tomorrow- Vikings!
Cheers,
Hannah.a.m.o.Depp.
We landed at 9 AM Irish time (4 AM Eastern Central US) and made for the hostel. By 12 we had shopped, made lunch, settled in and were off to see Trinity College Dublin. I am a little week on my feet, partly due to the exhaustion of graduation/ goodbyes and a cross oceanic flight! It's all worth it though.
I wish I could describe the smell of the long room to you. It's like... well, perhaps you don't have my obsession with old books? Think of your favorite smell wafting toward you from afar. Now, think of being in your favorite place. Combine the two. Now mutliply by 10 and compact it all into a three story, 200 foot long room built just to suit your taste and subconscious... I wander that room and all of my dreams are brushing against my ankles, welcoming me home.
If I ever dissapeare, first check the Young Republicans of Carson-Newman College. If it turns out they didn't murder me, look for me in the Long Room. I may be past out somewhere neer the Yeats collection.
They were also having a special exhibit on both the book of Kells (amazing early Latin translation of the first four gospels) and on Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Age of Detective fiction.
Sherlock was my first literary crush. He even predates (and outlives) Mr. Darcy. Who wants undying affection when you can have footprints and cruel wit?
That's not healthy, but I'm tired.
We discuss Oscar Wilde today in class ("class" means us sitting down and talking about the days reading) and I will have to control myself from weeping "he's beautiful!" over and over.
Alright, I am utterly exhausted and will ramble until dawn, but it's rude to use the public computer for too long. If you are reading this, chances are I love you immensly and thank you for taking the time to worry about me.
The green continues tomorrow- Vikings!
Cheers,
Hannah.a.m.o.Depp.
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