Some witty title that sums up these events.

The downside of blogging is it feels very one sided. So pretty please comment here. Or on my Facebook. Or email me. Or skype me. If you have an iPhone imessage me. I am very reachable. I want to know what's going on with you. Or what you'd like to read more (or less?) about.

Way more pictures here.

Irish phrase of the day: "What's the crack (or craic)?" Means where's the fun, what's happening, essentially what's up. Craic generally means entertainment or fun.

Last Friday at work we were doing an art therapy session, and Ann-Marie, the teacher, said that I really should make something. That it would be good for me and good for the clients to see me participating. So after running out of things to do to look busy I found a piece of sketch paper and stared at it for half an hour. I looked through all the pictures on my phone and finally decided I might be a bit homesick so I settled on a picture from this last semester of the Great Austin Adventure. The picture is of Maddie, Amanda, Cassidy, and I enjoyed a night on the town. A strange guy kept trying to take my hat. I did my impression of dancing in an awkward-most-of-these-moves-I-stole-form-80’s-workout-videos kind of way. And for a bit in an I-don’t-really-care-what-anyone-thinks-but-I’m-having-a-blast kind of way.  We were robbed… by a vending machine and ended up with 57 quarters to squeeze into girl-jean pockets. Amanda and Maddie worked on their beautiful moonwalk and fedora-flip. We sat up on the brick wall like rebels. And we met characters in the line for the bathroom. We romped around the city drunk on the this-night-will-only-happen-once excitement of life. We wound up behind the Austin Children’s museum- the set of the picture. Anyway...  It took me forever to draw it out and a bit of help from Ann-Marie but it’s coming along now. I suppose I have to paint it next. How daunting! I felt guilty afterward by how absorbed I’d been the entire session. I didn’t exactly do any work. I tried to strategically plan a bathroom break to avoid it but Ann-Marie showed the drawing off to everyone after the clients showed their paintings. They all said it was good, then poked fun at me for being so embarrassed. They are all very proud of their work. (With good reason.) Ann-Marie gave me a lift to town after work. We had an interesting conversation about the similarities and differences of my home and Ireland- and the rest of the world for that matter. She was full of maternal concern when I told her about my travel plans (or lack-there-of) and she warned me not to hitchhike. Then proceeded to tell me of all the wonderful adventures she had hitchhiking.

A group of the EUSA crew decided to go to Galway for the weekend so I tagged along. It was good to get out of Dublin and see more of the country. I especially enjoyed the two-hour train ride. I haven’t been on a ligament train (airport trams excluded) since I was little and went on a train ride with my cousins. On the train to Galway I sat in a comfortable booth with Abbi and Cat at a flat table surrounded by empty seats, the ride was smooth, we had wifi and there were restrooms. It was all terribly comfortable. It made me wonder what it would feel like to hop on a rickety old freight train. Maybe one day.

We took a ferry out to the Aran Islands. On the ferry I talked to James (name changed). James wants to know everything about everyone- tact be damned. We had interesting chat about fear. James says fear is healthy- fear of death, fear of life, fear of nature, etc. are all useful. He talked about a previous struggle with depression and that fear of disappointing his family is what kept him from killing himself. I love when I encounter such different perspectives than my own. “Fear is healthy” is a perfectly logical conclusion for James to make. But for me I always relate fear more with anxiety, in a constraining kind of way. Like fear of talking to strangers. Fear of skinny dipping. Fear of the dark. Fear of truly caring for someone. Fear of traveling solo as a female. I can be afraid of a lot of things. But my best adventures and life experience usually involve spitting in fear’s face and doing it anyway. I should say that I don’t equate fear with danger. Of course risk should be assessed accordingly. But I believe often times fear or anxiety isn’t proportionate to the risk of the situation and becomes limiting. Anywho… the ferry ride was great. I stood out on the deck and let the wind and waves combat my rain jacket while I tested my sea legs as the boat lurched all around. By the time we got to the island it was raining. And cold. And we were soaked. So the first pub we found we holed up in and warmed up with vegetable soup and Irish coffee. We wandered country roads, met a dog, and an old abandoned church. I climbed up on the stone wall and surveyed the land. The return ferry ride was enclosed, very rocky, and a struggle with motion sickness. So was the bus ride. 

I checked into the hostel I booked and met two of my roommates from Canada. The other 5 occupants hadn’t yet arrived. I went out with the rest of the group for dinner, drinks, and the like. Malheureusement, there was a bit of group tension in the travel-weary-too-many-personalities-packed-together-for-too-long kind of way so after following the group  to a few pubs/clubs I decided to call it an early midnight and headed back to the hostel. In the hostel I find my two Canadian acquaintances Arianna and Regina, and their good friend Captain Morgan. So we quickly bonded as shipmates and went back out to the seaside town of Galway.  It was a different experience than I would have had solo, that’s for sure. The Irishmen hit on the Canadians and brought us to a dance club called Electric. We shook the overly interested guys and danced away. Word of advice from Arianna- when the creepy guy in the hostel is staring you down apparently you should play dead. Anyway it was a crazy night and instead of being left alone with the creepy guy Sunday morning, I ventured out much early than my head would have liked. The problem is Galway sleeps in Sunday mornings, all I wanted was fried food and a comfy dark corner but I was destined to wander the streets until I found a lone coffee hut with outdoor seating. I drank my coffee, ate my waffle, and read my book through my dark sunglasses and fuzzy head. Around 11am Galway started to crack sleepy eyes and wake and suddenly a street market came alive behind me and the rest of the group joined me for crepes. The rest of the trip was mostly uneventful, though I did find a four-leaf clover. 

As Sunday was father's day it made me think about Dad. I wonder what he would have thought about all my adventures. He traveled all over the world.

Work was eventful last week. Monday we had a drum circle- it is therapeutic and builds community. I’m terrible at drums. Tuesday a client had a seizure. It was a very controlled event and he recovered quickly, but it was out of the ordinary for me. Wednesday we took an outing to the Glasnevin Cemetery and saw a Padraig Pearse Oration. It was a riveting speech to fire up the Irish before the Easter Rising.

“The Fools, the Fools, the Fools! – they have left us our Fenian dead – And while Ireland holds these graves, Ireland unfree shall never be at peace.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2ibljuIUVA

I saw the new Superman movie. It was all action and IHOP. It made me miss home a bit.
Thursday we took a trip to Wicklow and the Powerscourt Estate. There were beautiful gardens and I felt extremely lucky to have seen them. I can’t wait to bring my mom back there.

Friday we went with the clients to Bull Island and its beach for them to take photographs for a contest. Then we went to eat at The Yacht Pub. Another great day.

Saturday I went on EUSA organized trip to Wicklow. We went to a farm and fed pet lambs. I saw wild horses!

And we went to Glendalough where there is a monastic settlement founded in the 6th century a hermit priest. Anyway there’s an old cemetery, church, and a couple of lakes.

Time is flying! There is so much else I want to while I’m here but time’s running out and I all too easily get sucked into the coming home to relax and do French homework routine. So today I’m going to try to get ahead on my homework then get out and about adventuring.

A full life on the island.

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Dublin Lesson Number 2: Don’t be deceived by the country’s relatively small size. It will take you longer to get where you are going than you expect.

Irish phrase of the day: “Thanks a mil”- means thanks a million. Example “Can I get a cuppa tea? Thanks a mil.”

[Forgive the GIANT entry, I need to update more regularly to say record everything.]

For more pictures see here:http://www.flickr.com/photos/96341639@N04/

A bit on work

My placement is incredible. As I’ve said before, Headway works with clients who have acquired brain injuries. Face to face this means people lives have been dramatically changed in an instant, be it from an accident, a stroke, or illness. For example one man used to be a marvelous chef and lived to cook, was in an accident and lost all passion for food and completely stopped cooking. It was only through his work at Headway that he is gaining back interest and has now is in the early stages of opening a cake shop. I tried one, it was delicious. Another chef (coincidentally), has lost most of his ability to speak, has impaired cognitive function, and also has limited mobility. He trained in France. He was in a motorbike accident 30 years ago. He spent most of that time in the equivalent (as I understand it) of an asylum. He has improved dramatically since being at headway and now with help is writing his own cookbook.  The stories go on and on of men and women who would have been written off as useless or unable to have any quality of life but now achieve goals that astound me. I am slowly piecing together how the program works. I started on Tuesday at the Donnybrook location. We did art therapy, film appreciation, quizzes, current events and more. My primary role is to interact with the clients, and I am gradually being handed more responsibilities. Wednesday I went on an outing with the Manor street group to the National art gallery. One of the biggest struggles I am having is figuring out where to set boundaries. For example inhibition can be affected with brain injuries, especially when there is damage to the frontal lobe. This can result in social inappropriateness like not knowing what comments are too personal, what may be hurtful, not knowing when to stop talking, etc. So when do I let a client go on talking and when to I ask them to stop? It’s a line I’m learning to walk. One man is very good at getting people to argue with him. It is quite a talent. He goes straight for the big topics- politics, religion, poverty, social hierarchies and the like. Even things I’ve never had strong opinions on, I find myself wanting to argue for just to dispute his bold claims. But what can you do? Many of the clients have aphasia (disturbance of the comprehension and formulation of language caused by dysfunction in specific brain regions) or other issues with speech and in combination with differing accents I often struggle to communicate with them. I know it is very frustrating for them and it is for me too but I know I have to be patient. Thursday I was back at Donnybrook and we did working with words (essentially some tricky grammatical things), crosswords, more quizzes, and even some gentle yoga. Today I was at the Clontarf. I was half an hour late with some bus confusion. I didn’t know which stop to get off at. We did more film appreciation, had a session on the different parts of the brain and how they can be affected by injury, and more art therapy. I eat lunch with the clients and work from 10am to 3pm, though I have been staying later. I swear almost all of the clients could be stand up comedians. I’ve never known a group of people with as many well timed jokes. It’s always a laugh.

A bit on not working

Last Monday was a bank holiday so no work. But there was an all women’s mini-marathon (10k) going on that started at UCD and went to city center. Consequently the buses weren’t running from UCD. So we walked the route along with the runners. It felt like people were cheering us on as we went. It was a wonderful day to be out and around all the community that came out in support. We spent the afternoon in a crowded St. Stephen’s Green.

I have gotten lost plenty since being here. I will be so confident in the direction I am going I think, “I’ll just keep walking till I recognize something”. Turns out that doesn’t work out so well when you are walking in the complete opposite direction than you think. Then you just keep walking and walking and two hours later you spot a map, and realize your mistake. It happened. More than once. So now I downloaded an offline map app for my phone that I can highly recommend (Maps with me pro). 

I got a bike. I was determined to buy it before work on Tuesday so I didn’t have to pay for the bus. But the bike shop on UCD campus didn’t open till 9am (work started at 10). I wanted to be at the bike shop when it opened. So naturally I didn’t get there till 9:25 and there was a line. I grabbed this wonderfully old junky bike that happened to be the cheapest pre-owned bike they had. By the time I get to the front of the line it’s almost 9:40 and I’m not really sure where I am supposed to go for work. So when the guy at the counter asks me if I want to ride it around a bit, I hurriedly say no, that as long as it works, I’ll take it. Well it turns out it is comically small for me so my knees brush the handlebars. And makes very loud noises. But hey, it DOES work. Today I even figured out how to switch gears and sometimes the chain doesn’t even pop off said gear. So I’m going back to the bike shop soon to raise my seat and purchase a helmet. The combination of working with people with acquired brain injury and almost being hit by distracted driver or sideswiped by a bus (the buses and bikes share a very narrow lane) has really made me wish for a helmet.

I found a bouldering gym to climb at and the people there are very friendly. I have only been there once for an orientation thing, which turns out, was an hour lesson with a coach. It was good fun.  I am figuring out a better route than walking two hours (uphill) both ways from city center.(I stole these pictures from the oracle.)

I’ve been back to Porterhouse brewing co. a couple more times. So far, so good. The “Oyster Stout” is delicious. No worries it’s not flavored like shellfish. There has always been live music. The stage is located between the 2^nd and 3^rd floor so that you can look down on the stage or up at it. I met two guys out on the porch, for the life of me I can’t remember their names, but what’s new? I started chatting with them and they are both from Dublin, and have traveled all over Europe. They directed me where I should as I travel Europe, but it seemed that most of their selections were based on the quality and accessibility of cannabis. Strangely enough they have never been the very short drive the other side of Ireland.

Tuesday I meet this Georgian woman named Magda who is taking art classes from the woman who does art therapy at Headway. We get to talking and when she realizes I have no Dublin friends to speak of she invites me out the park with her and her “Brazilian friend who I will love.” So after confused Georgiany texts describing where to go, I meet up with her… and her 9 year old son. We wound through the streets to this local neighborhood park.  She talked about Americans. She thinks Americans are very confident and loud. She loves that. She works in a barbershop and an American guy came in and asked where she was from. When she told him “Georgia” he said “Me too!” and preceded to talk about his home state for the rest of the appointment. She has a very thick accent but barely got two words in so he never noticed or questioned it. She and her coworkers cracked up laughing when he left. We met her friend from the Ukraine and her friend from Brazil. The three women sat around a park bench as their children played. I listened carefully as they spoke of what it was like to be an immigrant in Ireland. It was fascinating.

The weather has been beautiful and I have been outside any chance I get. I’ve been to St. Stephen’s Green a couple times around lunch hour and wrote this observation:

In reverence of the sunlight

The populous pours into the hedged borders of St Stephens green

Men with beer barrel bellies sit shirtless together on park benches

Spilling their expanses onto one another

Raincoats are spread out as picnic blankets

The gay boy poses prone in the grass-

His designer jeans rolled just above his ankles.

Hair combed and sprayed meticulously. All waves and "hey"s.

Swans amongst flocks of gulls and pigeons swim languidly

Young lovely women sprawl out, hiking up their pencil skirts,

Blazers stripped off, shirts opened one button lower

Just to let the seductive sunlight kiss their skin.

Stretch the lunch hour.

It's not the weekend but

It is a Sunday.

No one should be working, it's sacrilege.

Sore bare feet ticked by the grass

Reminder to not taking life too seriously.

 White daisy flower weeds turn the faces upward,

Stretching to the light.

Eyes close in thanks smiles as offerings.

It's a sunny day in Dublin town

Myra from last week told me to check out a café called “Outhouse” on Wednesday. So I did. I found it the sign and the building and the placard in the front window claiming it was open. But the door was locked. I awkwardly paced by the doorway until two girls ran up the steps and rang a buzzer and I followed them in. A fabulous man sat at a desk in the entryway and asked me if I was there for the dance as well. “I don’t think so… I think I just wanted to check out the café.” “Well there’s really not anyone in there, but go ahead.” Although I was anxious I was determined not back down, so I signed in, sat down in the mostly empty room and quickly pulled out my book which I read (or stared at the same page) with shaking hands for the next twenty minutes. Then the fabulous man from the desk came said, “there’s actually a ‘ladies night in’ going on upstairs; they’re playing poker, if you’d like to join”. So I played poker with a good-humored group of older women (besides the foreign student from Spain). Nobody believed that I was from Texas because I am god-awful at Texas Hold’em. Luckily the only money involved was the split cost of the pizza.

The majority of the group from EUSA enjoys an occasional cocktail hour. There have been a few nights of drinking games. I generally lose never have I ever. If you call it losing. I suppose I think of it as being worldly and leading a full life.

I bought a small pot of light blue hydrangeas for my window. Lovely.

This past Saturday I missed the organized trip to Newgrange because I was running late, so I along with Alaxandria and April, wandered Dublin found a great café near Grafton street and played with the gorgeous lab we met there. Then after more exploring we had picnic at a field in Trinity. As we were lounging in the sun reading, a young fellow ran by calling for us to follow him to a midsummer night’s dream, as it was the Shakespeare Festival. So we did. We sat out on a lawn as Trinity drama students performed their modern(ish) and rather funny interpretation of the classic. We also watched a montage of scenes they called “Willie’s Suitcase”. Then we chatted with all of the actors. Grand. That night friends from A&M came to stay with me: Jenny, Collin, Travis, and Collin’s sister, Megan. We all went out as a group to celebrate Kirsti’s birthday. Among others we went to “The Brazen Head Pub,” the oldest pub in Dublin. 

Sunday was a lazy morning. Then Cat and I walked down to a sandwich shop she heard about, called Juniors. After a nice brunch we walked to Sandymount strand and took the path less traveled (just don’t do it in flip-flops and watch out for the pokey-stinging things). It went along a ridge on the beach. We sat on rocks on the shore and told stories. On the way back we found…. the pub. The pub I will be a local at. It is full of wonderful old men and live music that has no stage and everyone buys each other drinks and sings along. The musicians played a melancholy drunken version of Sweet Caroline with gospel like voices and spoons. Thomas, the owner and bartender, blushed when he quietly told me I have a beautiful smile. All of the these wonderful gentleman instantly had an attitude of “let’s look out for these two American girls.” It was insanely charming and perfect. So we went back Monday. They played us songs and the quiet man in the corner randomly broke out in a Willie Nelson song. The guitar player told jokes for a time that a so raunchy and drop-dead funny I am still debating if I will type them up.  We are also going to keep the location secret as not to fill it with tourists. It was another incredible evening, the best so far. 

It's a sunny day in Dublin town.

So it's going to be hard to stay in top of a blog. So. Seriously bug me about it! (If anyone reads this. (otherwise I'll have to think of some back to the future/inception situation to force myself to record my travels.)) I write this 1...2...+ drinks in from my first Irish-Asian (juicy contradiction) noodle bar (there are quite a few in Dublin; a "great noodle adventure" wouldn't last long).

Lesson number 1 of Dublin town: If you've got nowhere to be you can't be lost.

 

The other people in the program are all nice. It is very convenient to have a predetermined group of people to do things with that I might not otherwise do. It is especially nice having people to get lost on the bus system with. Without the all-knowing oracle in my pocket (Google doesn’t work without a data plan) it’s anyone’s guess at which bus to get on. I am quickly learning it’s a bit easier to ask before you get lost than after you’ve been lost for hours. (Lesson 1 subpart a.)

Irish phrase of the day: it was grand (everything is grand).

Monday:

Arrive at 9am(ish), meet others from the program, wait on buses, keep waiting. The bus was playing “Sweet Home Alabama” and Michael Jackson. Very traditional. Get to our apartments at UCD. They are nicer than I expected. We have a large kitchen and common area. I have my own bedroom. Short tour which is basically “up that road there’s a grocery, that way there is laundry, this is a bus stop, and up that way is city center.” So we decide to explore. Our group was quickly split after the first 3 of us to get on had change for the bus fare, but the next 3 did not, so they got left behind. The buses are double decker. Weird. Lots of walking. Randomly find the other half of our group. Saw The Great Gatsby. The theater had real curtains. Fancy. I only fell asleep twice. That night I sleep like the dead. Jetlag.

Tuesday: 

We had an orientation till noonish. More exploring city center. Ate at an Americanized pub and had a Guinness. A bit of shopping for the essentials. Drunk Irish man starts talking to us. “Where are you from, where are we all from?! All of us?! Originally?!” I said Africa. But he pointed up, said heaven, and stumbled a bit. “What more could I ask for? What MORE could I ask for...?! What?! It starts with a W!” Carli says “whiskey?” But he said he was done with that. That he could ask for wisdom.

Anywho.

Check my email back at the apartments. Guess what?! Your interview is tomorrow morning instead of Friday. Solution: I went to O’Neil’s to “practice”. It was a blast. Live music. Good food. It’s like a maze in there- tons of little nooks to tuck away in. I like it. It starts raining as we catch the last bus of the night.

Wednesday:

The interview was more of just a “meet the people you are working with”. They didn’t ask any of the questions I practiced for. More exploring. Fell in love with a huge bookstore that was also full of little nooks and rooms that made it feel cozy. Climbed a tree at Stephen’s Green. Totally allowed. (not.) Saw street dancers. That night we had an event at the Merry Ploughboy. It was a little bit cheesy but I had a good time. I especially liked that the band played the Irish pub songs I know. It was one of those- This is real life!- moments.

Thursday:

We did the bus tour. Saw the sights. Ended up back at O’Neil’s. Then to Temple Bar area.

Friday:

Internship workshop with EUSA. More of the bus tour. Hopped off at the Old Jameson distillery. Lots of Whiskey. Risky. On to the Stag’s Head for Rebecca’s 21^st birthday. (She’s had a couple 21^st birthdays before.) We eat. Drink. And are Merry. Run into several stag parties (bachelor parties). A guy grabs my Guinness and gives me a full one in return because he can’t drink any more but doesn’t want his friends to know. I cross my fingers and hope there is nothing in it besides beer. Warn my companions. We have baby Guinnesses. Yum. First round of the trip provided by Alexandria. On to the pub that’s in the hotel U2 owns. It’s way too nice for our crowd so we try not to be too obnoxious and leave after a round of baby Guinesses and ask the bartender where to go next. I get the next round. I get antsy staying with the group the whole time. So I head off for adventures on my own (I wish I had have my adventure buddy). I find the noodle place. Start writing. (I’m now writing Saturday morning since I couldn’t write all this at the noodle place.) I find this place- Porterhouse Brewing co. It was a really cool crowd (the trade off is that it was very crowded). I had a high quality Irish red beer. There is a rock band with an Irish flare. I cross the Liffey. Over a bridge, though they really shouldn’t have put those tempting stairs down to the water. Find Pantibar. Haha interesting place. I meet a nice older couple and Myra played pool with me. I miss the last bus and take a taxi home.

 

Saturday:

The group for the most part is taking off for the long weekend. But I’m going to hang back for solo adventures. I spent the morning enjoying the sun and reading “On the Road” in the grass.

“But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everyone goes ‘Awww!’”

So I’m off to find these kind of mad Irish people.

Cheers!