Strasbourg

Basel in early morning.

    Traveling, at least this semester, means traveling on a budget and that usually means sleeping in hostels. In a Basel, a city somehow devoid of conveniently placed hostels, the three of us shared a triple room in a budget hotel instead. European hotels generally offer a wider selection of room options, so a triple actually cost the same as splitting a double would have cost. But the triple had a bunk bed, so it was the infinitely more fun option! I got the top bunk, while the other two shared the double bunk below. There wasn't nearly enough time to enjoy our room, however, as we had to be on a train less than six hours after checking in. When the morning came we were awoken by one friend's barking dog alarm (she swears it's the only thing that will wake her up) and groggily headed out to catch our train.

     Arriving at the station, we immediately ran into a cluster of kiosks for buying tickets. How lucky, we thought, there is even an option for English. We hit the button, excited, only to find our hopes dashed. There was some English - the banner welcoming us had indeed been translated - but the remainder of the instructions were still in German. Since none of us read German particularly well, we headed off in search of a ticket counter. The woman behind the desk was infinitely more helpful than the machine had been and we soon found ourselves aboard the correct train and on our way to Strasbourg. I fell asleep almost immediately, but I was told later we enjoyed a stunning trip through fog-filled valleys. I came to a few minutes before we pulled into the station at Strasbourg with a two-hour nap under my belt, ready to face the day.

     Our friend met us in the station and took us to a very cute French cafe for breakfast. The French and Irish have a very different understanding of breakfast. An Irish breakfast contains almost nothing that hasn't been fried and usually includes at least two different meats. Our breakfast that morning was a crescent, a chocolate-filled pastry, orange juice, hot chocolate, and yogurt. Equally good and equally filling. Very happy after all the pastries, we headed to our friend's apartment to drop off our things. She is doing a home-stay this semester, so we got to meet her 'sister' when we stopped in. Unburdened, we set off to explore the city. 

   

Flying buttresses flying?

     Strasbourg sits in the border between France and Germany in a region that was disputed for centuries. As such, it has a rich mix of German and French influences. The National Theatre, for example, is housed in a former German palace. Follow our obligatory "theatre kids standing in front of a theatre" picture, we walked into the medieval part of the city. The medieval quarter is dominated by the imposing gothic cathedral on the main square. Towering more than 225 feet above the square and fashioned out of rich burgundy stone, it is truly an amazing sight. We spent a good amount of time exploring the interior. The stained glass along the naive is full of red glass, a sign of the immense expense involved in building the cathedral. (Red glass is the most expensive color of glass to produce, according to our glassblowing friend.) In the front of the cathedral, just off the altar, sits a huge celestial clock. Not only does it tell the time, but it also gives the position of every planet (even Pluto) in their orbit around the sun. After we finished exploring the inside, we really wanted to explore the top! The cathedral has a large viewing platform beneath the bell tower and there was no way we were going to miss the chance to go up. The 330 step climb takes you up right next to the flying buttresses - so close you can even see the stone puppy carved into one of them. The view from the top was simply stunning. You can see the EU Parliament buildings on the far side of the city, as well as Germany across the river.
   

The river: pre-wine.

     Having enjoyed some traditional French milkshakes, none of us felt the need for much lunch, so we simply wandered through the city. We strolled past the park that the city had built for Josephine, Napoleon's consort. Apparently she only visited once and never set foot in it again, despite a return visit to the city a few years later. A brief stroll through the EU district finished out our tour. We transferred our stuff from apartment to hostel and then headed out for dinner. We went to a place that specializes in Alsatian pizza. Effectively white pizza on flat bread, there were a bewildering array of options that somehow all seemed to involve bacon. They're the perfect food after a long day of walking, especially when matched with sparkling lemonade (or lemonade-beer for the more adventurous among us). By the time we finished up our meal, it wasn't even 7:30 pm. Not content to end our night so early, but certainly not prepared or qualified to go clubbing in France, we hatched a plan. First stop was as supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine. (The difference between Ireland and France is astounding: a good, moderately priced bottle in Dublin runs about €14, while in Strasbourg the same quality bottle goes sells for €4). Very pleased with that difference, we bought a bottle to split and found a spot by the river to sit and drink. We could not think of a more French way to end the day. 

First Flight

Last weekend was my first trip outside of Ireland. A few friends and I were going to visit our friend who is studying abroad in Strasbourg, France. After that we would hit Zurich and Munich before returning to Dublin in time for our Tuesday classes. In preparation for our departure, I drew up an itinerary for the trip which included all of our travel and sleeping arrangements, as well as a number of suggested activities for each city. In addition, I printed out all of my tickets, boarding passes, and hostel reservations. I even printed a second copy of my plane ticket, just in case. Those of us traveling together had mapped out our route to the airport the night before. I felt prepared. But in all this preparation, I forgot two very crucial things: socks and underwear. Since we were only traveling for the weekend and our budget airline of choice charges a preposterous amount of money to check bags, I was obviously going to pack light. One pairs of pants and a shirt or two can easily last a few days, but changing out socks and underwear daily is a must for me. Besides generally not wanting to feel gross, it is common courtesy to one’s fellow travellers. But when I went to pack my bag the morning of our departure, I came across an empty drawer – not a sock to be seen. Only a hurried trip to the campus laundry saved me from sure disaster. 

Boarding on the tarmac.
Just another perk!

     Our flight off the island was on RyanAir - everyone's favorite low-cost, no-frills airline. RyanAir is wonderful because it will fly you all over Europe for less money than a bus ticket. You just need to read the fine print very carefully. Checked baggage costs extra, obviously. But so does checking in at the airport (a €100 fee). Forgot to print your boarding pass, that will be another €70. All this makes for a rather adventurous time at the airport. That our whole group managed to make it through the airport together, intact, and on-time to the gate on our first trip is both a testament to our preparation and a lot of dumb luck. The flight itself was more pleasant than expected. No broken lights, ragged carpet, cracked windows. (The horror stories about budget airlines unfounded at least in this instance). Everything was clean and fairly comfortable. The seats lacked a pouch on the back (no barf bags unfortunately), but it did give the benefit of extra knee room. With no complimentary inflight beverages, I could nap without worrying about losing out on my free Diet Coke.

     We arrived into the airport at Basel around 11:00 pm, exactly on time - a welcome change from flying in the US. Since the Basel airport straddles the borders of Switzerland, Germany, and France we had to pass through customs. After the most perfunctory passport examination in history, we gathered assembled by baggage claim and celebrated our first successful flight with cookies. We then had a choice to make: go to the left and exit to France/Germany or exit to the right to Switzerland. I had never been offered an option of exit country before - it was quite exciting. We mulled our choice for a moment, but ultimately picked Switzerland because, well, that was where our hotel was. The bus from the airport to the city centre went directly to our hotel - or so we thought. We hopped off and hurried to the hotel, wanting to get as much sleep as possible before our 6:00 am train to Strasbourg. Arriving at reception, puzzled looks greeted us when we tried to check in. Could we have made reservations for the ring night, under a different name, on a different credit card? No. Turns out there are two hotels with the exact same name on opposite sides of the train station. We had booked our room at the other one... A brisk walk back the way we came brought us to the right hotel and we settled in for a brief nap before our early morning departure. 

Too Much Nutella

Other people out for a walk.

My parents have come to town to visit (well, visit and play golf), so I’ve spent the last two days showing them around Dublin. It has been a great opportunity to test my knowledge of the city and guide them around the place I’ve been calling home the past few months. But it has also been a wonderful opportunity to do some touristing. Since I’m actually living in the city for a few months, and occasionally even going to classes here, I have tried to avoid tourist spots as much as possible. Instead, I have done my best (with varying degrees of success) to find lesser-known areas to explore. And while this has yielded some very cool discoveries – I can tell you seven different places to do your laundry – it means I haven’t made it to some of the places closest to campus. So, taking advantage of “showing the parents the town,” I have managed to check a few places off the list.

Let me just say: being a tourist is exhausting. First, you have to walk from the hotel to breakfast. Then you need to figure out what you’re going to do that day, which can be very stressful. After that there is more walking to reach the first site of the day. Then there is walking with your tour guide, followed by whatever extra exploring you want to do. And after that there is still more walking to the next location where the whole process is repeated. Due to the amount of Nutella in my diet at the moment, I’m really not prepared for that kind of exercise.

A rare moment of sun in Dublin.

They landed early Friday morning, so between the jet lag on their part and an early-morning fire alarm on mine, some caffeine was definitely in order. Tea and scones at Avoca roused all present and we headed off to the first of our touristy destinations of the day: The Book of Kells. The Book of Kells is perhaps the easiest thing to find of Trinity’s campus – there is always a substantial line outside the Old Library building to let you know exactly where to go and Friday was no exception. However, this let me use the single greatest perk of being at Trinity: every student gets in to see the book for free and gets to bring up to three guests and gets to skip the huge line. It really makes wading through endless hours of medieval bureaucracy worth it. The exhibit and book itself are stunning, an experience made all the sweeter by getting in ahead of the huge German tour group waiting outside.

The rest of the day was spent leisurely strolling around the City Centre. We had a lovely dinner that evening with a few of my friends before ending the night with a drink at a pub by campus. It was my first real ‘drink’ with my parents. Not as weird as expected, but definitely something I’m going to have to get used to.

Establishing Rhythms

An Average Day Abroad

01.07 – Finally fall asleep while watching fifth episode of Gilmore Girls.
08.35 – Wake up to first alarm. Fall asleep. 
08.40 – Wake up to second alarm. Fall asleep again.
08.43 – Wake up to passing DART train. Fall asleep again.
08.55 – Sleep through third alarm.
09.03 – Finally wake up. Shower. Get dressed.
09.15 – Check weather. Be very confused over Celsius. Change to Fahrenheit.
09.17 – Make toast with Nutella for breakfast.
09.18 – Feel guilty about having Nutella for breakfast everyday.
09.19 – Add more Nutella.
09.21 – Attempt to do the readings for the morning’s lecture. Finish last night’s episode of Gilmore Girls instead.
10.51 – Grab an apple (to ease the guilt of the Nutella) and run to class.
10.59 – Find seat in back of lecture hall. Listen to lecture.
11.00 – Return to room, intending to do translation for next class. Watch more Gilmore Girls.
12.30 – Make pasta for the hundredth time this week.
13.22 – Finally look at translations for class.
14.50 – Go to class. Spend 55 minutes hoping professor doesn’t ask about the letter I didn’t translate. 
15.03 – Return to room. Nap.
17.30 – Wake up, hungry, and make pasta for the hundred and first time this week.
18.15 – Actually do homework.
20.30 – Consider going out.
20.31 – Start watching Gilmore Girls.

NSO vs. Fresher's Week

   

Wholesome (and alcohol free) fun
at NSO.

     There is a fabled tradition at American Universities that goes by many names: “Freshman Orientation,” “New Student Orientation,” “Welcome Week.” Billed as a great way to meet new people and find your way around school, they’re also a thinly veiled attempt to keep you from getting homesick during your first week at school. One can easily identify them by the large number of student groups roaming campus, each led by a peppy upperclassman in some brightly coloured garb. It is generally considered the most exhausting part of freshman year – even classes are a welcomed relief. At Trinity, a similar tradition takes place – Fresher’s Week. In many ways, it is quite similar to its American counterparts. There are gaggles of freshmen excitedly rushing around, always looking a bit bewildered. An overwhelming assembly of clubs and societies trying to solicit said freshmen. Endless presentations on using the library, registering for modules, navigating Dublin.

Fresher's Week opening
'concert.' 

     The biggest difference between Fresher’s Week and anything in the US is what happens after dark. In the US, school-sponsored and alcohol-free events dominate the social calendar. At Trinity, it’s quite the opposite. The college still officially sanctions the events, but they generally occur in bars and clubs. Alcohol is involved. In a way, it helps make the whole thing less awkward – people are free to socialize in a ‘more natural’ social setting. But nothing can remove the awkwardness of being asked (for the thirtieth time or so), “What’s your name? What’s your course? Where are you from? Oh, the US, cool!” Trust me, it’s just as uncomfortable at the bar as in the dinning hall. Of few of us, foolishly, decided we would buy these wristbands which gave you access to all of the week’s events. (We discovered later that these bands cost €2 more than simply paying at the door.) This meant that we got to spend the week branded as freshers, something that greatly wounded our newly minted upperclassmen pride.

     The bands did serve as a nice symbol of our odd, indeterminate position. We’re new to Trinity and haven’t made many friends yet, just like the thousands of freshmen swarming around. But we’ve been in higher education for two years now and generally know how ‘college’ works, like the third years we’re sharing classes with. We went to a few events throughout the week, some of us more than others. But by the end, most of us accepted that you only have the energy to do college orientation once.

More Irish than the Irish themselves?

     Following the Anglo-Norman invasion of 1169, it has often been said that the original English settlers became more Irish than the Irish themselves. After almost three weeks here, some of us are starting to feel the same way. Since arriving, we’ve spent countless hours in a crash-course on Irish history and culture. I’m not sure if it’s possible to absorb an entire culture in three weeks, but our instructors are definitely doing their best to make that happen.

     In addition to time in the lecture hall and the library, we’ve been making a number of cultural excursions. During our first week we were exposed to some modern Irish cinema. Well supplied with popcorn and gummies, we watched Adam and Paul, the story of two homeless addicts wandering the streets of Dublin. Loosely adapted from Waiting for Godot, it has the feel of either a very depressing comedy or a moderately funny tragedy. Its dark, dry humour wasn’t to everyone’s taste, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The perspective it presents certainly isn’t the one you would get from the guided tours – and that was exactly the idea. According to Ciaran, one of my favourite professors in the course, the movie was an experiment on their part. We seem to be the guinea pigs this year.

     Our next visit was to Croke Park, the headquarters of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA).

The museum at Croke Park.

Home to the All-Ireland finals in both Gaelic football and hurling, it can hold over 82,000 people. Each one of Ireland’s 32 counties puts forth four teams: men’s football, men’s hurling, women’s football, and camogie (women’s hurling). The teams are all amateur – none of the players get paid for playing. All the money the teams make goes back into training, development, and travel. Since the stadium was being prepared for the Penn State-UCF game the next day, this fact started an interesting analysis of the merits of amateur athletics. Our tour took us through the entire stadium, but I was most interested in the mechanics of field. Turns out, they need to use large rolling grow lights because they grass doesn’t get enough natural light to stay in playable condition. And even though it rains almost everyday, they still have a comprehensive watering system. Apparently the field drains so well, in order to remain playable in such wet conditions, that the grass needs to be watered every second day or so. And in order to maintain the field’s usefulness in the colder months, it is fitted with an underground heating system.

     This past week, we had our first introduction to Irish theatre. The show was George Bernard Shaw’s Heartbreak House. Part comedy of manners, part satire, part reflection on the nature of violence, the show was both hilarious and quite dark (often at the same time). Are you beginning to sense a pattern here? It played in the Abbey Theatre, the national theatre of Ireland. It is a beautiful proscenium theatre with a single tier of seats. The explosions, lighting design, and set concept were all incredible.

Imposing? Check. 

      On Friday, we took a trip into the past. Loaded onto buses at an ungodly hour of the morning (9am) we headed about an hour out of Dublin. It had all the trappings of a middle school field trip, down to the bagged lunches and chatty girls in the back of the bus. Our first stop was in the small town of Trim, Trim Castle. (They filmed sections of Braveheart on the castle grounds.) The largest Norman castle in Ireland, its grounds cover over three acres and are completely enclosed by a large curtain wall. The central keep stands over three stories tall – dominating the surrounding countryside. It was built in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries by the lords of Meath as the seat of their power along the river Boyne. We had free reign of the castle grounds for an hour before our tour. We explored the foundations of the Great Hall, the cellar, the dock. Taking advantage of the large tower between us and the visitor’s centre, we even managed to scale a section of the curtain wall.

The enemy takes the walls!

     Our tour took us inside the cavernous keep. With walls over 4 metres thick and 50 feet tall, it is an imposing structure. Originally guarded by a garrison over 20 soldiers, along with the lord and his family, it is now only home to a number of sparrows. After receiving a quick history of the castle from our guide, we ascended the spiral staircase. (We were warned to beware of the trip steps, a set of steps slightly smaller than the rest which were designed to – you guessed it – trip an attacking soldier as he ran up the stairs.) The view from the top was absolutely stunning; you can see the remains of four medieval monasteries in the immediate vicinity. Following lunch in the shadow of the walls, we journeyed to the hills of Tara. Home to the ancient High Kings of Ireland, Tara has been used as a ceremonial and burial site for well over two thousand years. Dodging copious amounts of sheep poop, we spent the afternoon exploring the ditches which mark the site. I even hugged the stone that declared the King worthy of joining with the goddess Maeve and ruling all of Ireland. I am not worthy.

Where's the Pasta?

     They say you should use your study abroad time as an opportunity to expand your horizons. In that way, Ireland could be called ‘study abroad lite’ – they all speak English, there’s fairly regular Internet access, and one is never more than a few hundred yards from a pub. But I think such a categorization really does it a disservice. It is definitely a different experience from, say, Germany or Angola in that I’m not constantly trying to think in another language. I can be fairly confident that I just ordered a burger and did not accidentally insult the server’s mother. It is almost possible to feel like I’m still home…almost. Granted, the cars driving down the left side of the road would be a good hint, but it’s the act of constantly being shocked out of my little assumptions that makes the familiarity so jarring. In it’s own way, it opens you up to things you wouldn’t have even thought could be different.
     The grocery store is prime example of this. One of the first things I learned about shopping is that you can always ignore the things stacked on the ends of the aisle. They’re just put there to distract you and anything of importance can be found in its proper place among the aisles if you need it. So when I went looking for pasta the other day, I walked past the section four times because I’ve trained myself to ignore the ends. I finally stopped to get my bearings, only to find the pasta starring me right in the face. When I went to check out the first time, I headed for the self-check out machine – I felt confident about my ability to handle this one. I put down my basket on the right side of the machine, like I’ve been doing at Safeway for years now, only to have the polite, Irish voice from the machine complain about my placement. Only then did I take note of the little signs indicating that one’s basket goes on the left and you bag on the right. Successive trips have been more successful, but I’m trying to stick to the off times until I master the checkout.

First Days

In case you were wondering, it does rain a
lot in Ireland.

      This semester I am studying abroad at Trinity College Dublin, part of the University of Dublin, in Dublin, Ireland. Again, just to be clear, I’m in Dublin. Our semester begins with a three-week international orientation, so right now the only people on campus are tourists and the 80 or so international students. We’ve spent the first few days getting used to the area, trying to figure out where to get food, and how to access the Internet. That last one has proved to be the most challenge aspect so far – one so quickly forgets what it is like to live with only a wired connection (no Wi-Fi in the dorms). Given that the College is approaching it’s 450th anniversary, I just pleased that there’s Internet to be found anywhere.

      Our orientation is an academic, as well as a cultural, program. Even so, there are only three hours of class scheduled everyday. The rest of our time is our own. We’re encouraged to explore, but most of us have spent most of the past few days in the IT center or setting up bank accounts. Aside from learning that most of the decorative, carved stone pieces on post-invasion Anglo-Norman churches in Ireland were actually imported from quarries around Bristol, the most important thing we’ve discovered so far is that the small changes are the ones you notice the most. Even if they speak the same language and prefer the same color for sweaters, things will still be unexpectedly different. Some things are obvious and can be prepared for: 58° weather in August – everyday, at least two hours of rain – everyday, different colored money. It’s the small things that have tripped me up the most. What side of the stairs do you walk up? (It’s still the right side.) Do you tip in a pub? (Bartender – no, Wait staff – yes.) Which way do you look before crossing the street? (Right, then left, then right again. I don’t know if I’ll figure that one out. I’m simply doomed to the awkward head-swivel for the next few months.)

Grey and green, Ireland's national colors.

      If you are able to suppress the constant fear of getting run over, Dublin is an absolutely wonderful city. The dorms we’re staying in are about 4 km from main campus, in Dartry, which is technically outside of Dublin proper. The walk to campus is almost a straight shot down Rathmines and Harcourt Streets, providing a tour of Dublin’s residential and commercial districts. I think we pass at least 10 pubs in the first twenty minutes alone. Trinity College itself is located right in the city centre, next to the National Gallery and National Museum. A spike-topped wall rings campus, while most of the buildings match the grey of sky. It’s my ideal college aesthetic.