Go West

Hi everyone, just a quick update to alert you to my new blog. If you enjoyed my London adventures, you might also enjoy my Iowa adventures. I mean, which one sounds more interesting?

Dancing with the Scots

Hi again everyone, I'm here for a post-Xmas blog update on my second trip to Scotland. This time we were staying in a cottage in northern Scotland, near the Gleneagles golf course. It was a very photogenic trip, and I've picked out the best of the best for your viewing pleasure. I must inform you that all the pictures were taken with a birthday present from my dear sister, who wishes to encourage my photographic interest. I hope I've done the gift justice. Enjoy!

Here is the cottage, replete with snow. It was a very white Xmas, so much so that we had trouble both getting to and leaving the cottage.

There was a whiskey distillery in the town of Blackford, which is close to the cottages. This was in the window, and I thought it was appropriate.

Here is Blackford, and since it is so picturesque you will find many pictures of it throughout.

This is the road leading from Blackford back to our cottages. It was about a mile and a half between the two.

Inside the cottages, much time was spent playing games on the Wii. Here is what is sure to be a pleasant and courteous bout between two bros.

The face says it all.

This photo of Elizabeth is sure to be worth something when she competes in the games of the 2020 Olympiad.

We spent the entirety of one day walking to and from Auchterarder (5 miles each way), and there were some sheep on the way. It is very hard to take an interesting picture of sheep. Right after I took this picture, one of the sheep baa'd, and my first thought was that my camera had recognized that the picture was of a sheep and had made a noise to indicate that. That was my first thought.

More traditional Scottish scenery there is not.

This is very near the golf course, in a valley alongside the road. The mist was everywhere; we had just risen above it climbing a big hill.

In the town there was a good chance to get a bit of color.

At the end of a ten-mile, below freezing hike, this is the nicest sight in the world.

Some of the landscape surrounding the cottage.

I managed to snag a picture of the train as it sped past.

I had to climb a rabbit-hole infested hill to get this picture, so I hope its good.

On Xmas eve we went to a church and graveyard that has been abandoned since 1858. Supposed to be haunted, but I didn't see anything. Oh well.

Took a walk on Xmas day. Turned some heads.

And so ends the (good) pictures from the trip. I had a wonderful time, and it was a perfect end to a great semester.

So what have I learned about the British? Quite a few things, actually. I learned never to order ketchup for chips under any circumstances. A good pint takes about 10 minutes to pour. Wherever you stand on the platform waiting for the tube, you will end up equidistant between two doors when the train pulls in. Stay off the roof of your apartment building, especially during a party. You will never see everything in the British Museum. Stop trying. You can survive off Guinness in Dublin (and might have to since its so expensive). There isn't good macaroni and cheese anywhere in the British Isles. Dublin Bay is cold in December (okay, maybe you didn't need me to tell you that). Getting lost in central London is like being in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Don't ever request Buckfast if you want to be taken seriously by anyone. Don't ever drink Buckfast if you want to be taken seriously by yourself. Patrick Stewart will not make it so. Ever. All the off-licences in Dublin close at 10pm, even on weekends. Don't fly easyjet if there is a chance of bad weather. If you take a train to Scotland, take it during the day so you don't miss the scenery. Never try to drive down Abbey Road, tourists are constantly taking pictures and cars are backed up for a mile. Kilometer, sorry. At any given time 75% of the people visiting Stonehenge are Asian. Never take a taxi. That's giving up. Sometimes bus drivers in London announce over the intercom their indifference to the imminent tipping of the bus. Sainsbury's makes the best sandwiches of all time. Finally, a semester abroad is kind of awesome. I'm pretty happy I did it.

See?

Keep an eye out, since I have a new idea for a blog that I'm going to work on over the break. I'll announce it when I'm done. Thanks for keeping up with this one! I wouldn't have had the motivation to do it if you guys didn't read it, so I hope you enjoyed it. Until next time.

Irelanded

Hi everybody, I'm just back from Ireland, and I'm putting off both a paper and a presentation to update this blog. Talk about commitment. I'll be as thorough as I can, so let's just get into it.

We (meaning the seven students in the flat and three professors) left last Wednesday afternoon, travelling from Heathrow to arrive at Dublin that evening. The hotel we stayed at for the duration was very swanky, probably because there were so few students this year. Their breakfast in particular was very good; I already miss it. Got dinner at a bar that night, went to bed early. Why is travelling so tiring?

The next day, Thursday, we began by visiting the Yeats exhibit at the National Library. Very interesting exhibit, since Yeats was himself so interesting. When the plays at the Abbey Theatre caused riots, he would run onto stage and start telling the audience how disappointed with them he was. Hilarious. He also perpetually fell in love with everyone he couldn't have (and their daughters). I guess he was a pretty good writer, too. After the library we got a walking tour of Dublin, which is much smaller than I had anticipated. The tour was excellent, the guide having been hired several times by the professors. Here are some pictures, captioned above:

This was the home of Pearse, who was instrumental in the rebellion of 1916 (that was the topic of the tour). His father was an architect and they lived above their business.

This is the customs house, which the IRA tried to take during that rebellion since it is a symbol of British authority in Dublin. Fun fact: The Irish flag's three colours represent Southern Ireland (green), Northern Ireland (orange, from William of Orange) and the peace that now stands between them (white). Also, unrelated: a star on a flag actually references a country's involvement with socialism.

The river Liffey

The Abbey Theatre, or a reconstruction of it after it was burned down in the...70s, maybe. It was originally built by Yeats as an homage to traditional Irish culture, to celebrate Irish nationalism.

Self-explanatory

Now the most exciting building. This is the GPO, or General Post Office, the main hub where the Irish rebels fought the British army. Very bad defensive position, which shows that it wasn't about winning, but making their stand a type of theatre. They made it six days, and most of the leaders (like Pearse) were inside.

Bullet hole that remains on one of the columns

The declaration made by the Irish rebels for a free state. Very progressive, calling for equal rights for everyone. This is one of the original copies, hanging in the post office. Sorry for the head in the way; this was the only picture I had.

Parnell. He's kind of a big deal.

We also visited Kilmainham Jail, which was used as a prison for hundreds of years but is best remembered for the number of notable political prisoners it held, including all the leaders of the 1916 rebellion.

The entrance lets you know what a happy, pleasant place this was to so many people.

This is the chapel, which is most famously remembered for hosting the wedding of one of the 1916 rebels just before he was shot. It's symbolic because, although most of Ireland did not side with the rebels initially, things like this wedding and their execution made the people come around.

Inside the jail. It was awful and cold, since the walls were made of limestone and retained moisture. During times of famine, people would purposefully get placed in the jail for free food and three or four times more than the capacity would be inside.

The jail cell of one of the prisoners of 1916, Countess Markievisz, who shot unsuspecting British soldiers point blanc on the day of the rebellion. She wasn't executed, but actually went on to become the first female republican minister in the world.

The hallway where the leaders of the 1916 rebellion were held. Most of them were executed, some of them for simply being related to the leaders. Pearse's brother, for example, was shot just because he was Pearse's brother.

There was another room where Parnell was held for about 8 months as a political prisoner by the British, but because of his status he got to have meetings and good food, etc. This drawing was on the wall of the room.

The west wing of the prison. Very interesting construction; the idea was that from any point in the room you could see any cell so there would be no funny business, and the vaulted ceiling meant that any noise was amplified, so no talking. Victorians had some weird ideas about reform.

Sorry the picture is so dark. This is the rock breaking yard where the 1916 rebels were executed. Very atmospheric place. That's a cross at the far end of the yard, sorry again for the dark.

Out and about in Dublin the next day. Recognize that fellow? Jimmy Joyce. Smug bastard.

We next had a tour of Prospect Cemetery, where a number of notable people are buried.

This is the traditional Irish round tower that sits atop the grave of...

Daniel O'Connell. This is inside the tomb.

Here is the very simple Parnell grave, which he requested look like this in his will. He also stipulated he be buried among the sick, so people wouldn't dig up his body for distribution.

Another 1916 rebel

The grave of Maud Gonne, an actress and political activist Yeats fell in love with but who ultimately married MacBride, who was an abusive alcoholic. The poem No Second Troy is about Maud Gonne.

The grave of Michael Collins, a key leader of the Irish rebellion who was assassinated after signing the civil war-causing treaty in 1922 that declared Ireland a free state swearing loyalty to England. His grave is never without flowers; supposedly when he was buried someone gave £50 to the graveyard to replace the flowers should they run out, and they still have the money since they never have.

We visited the James Joyce tower that afternoon, which turned out to be a little more interesting than I had planned. See that water down there? In the Dublin Bay? That's called the 40-foot drop, and James Joyce swam in it when he stayed in the tower (which he only did for a week, but still). I also swam in it. Yes, in December. I have been baptised in the Irish waters, and it feels great. Actually, it mostly felt like I couldn't breath, but anyway. Just thought I'd share that literary aquatic excursion with you all.

The tower

The room Joyce stayed in with his friend who owned the tower. Joyce woke up one night being shot at by his friend who was having a dream about a black jaguar. He then left for good, walking back to Dublin without his suitcase. See the black jaguar in front of the fireplace? I'm assuming that references the event. Not sure why the James Joyce museum is here, since he didn't really stay. Whatevs.

Some views from the top of the tower of Dublin Bay. That water is cold, by the way. Have I mentioned that?

That afternoon (it was a busy day) we also went to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College. The book is the oldest surviving Gaelic manuscript. It included the four gospels. Here is my only picture of the college.

Sidenote: that night we participated in a musical pub crawl, and we got to listen to two traditional folk musicians play some really good stuff. Also several pints were involved. That is all.

The next, very hungover morning we went to Newgrange, which is a Neolithic tomb about a thousand years older than Stonehenge. It is designed for light to enter the two doors at the sides when the sun rises and sets directly east and west on the solstices. Beautiful.

The entrance. I went inside (a little cramped, as you might expect), but couldn't take pictures. Sowwy!

We also went to the National Museum that morning to see the bog bodies, bodies that had been preserved by the bog. Creepy. Finally, that night we went to see The Seafarer at the Abbey theatre, a modern comedy that was quite hilarious. Our favourite line, which needs no context: "What a maudlin fucker." Okay, the line refers to Satan.

The next day was a full-day tour of Wicklow Mountains north of Dublin. Stunningly beautiful, but don't take my word for it. Hopefully my pictures do it justice. This is Dublin:

Hope you enjoyed those, since I loved taking them. We ended by taking a tour of the monastery ruins at Glendalough. It was founded in the 6th century by St. Kevin.

Aaaaaand done. The trip, overall, was wonderful. I think I drank my weight in Guinness, which really grows on you after a while, and I got to know some people much better. I have lots to do before Xmas time, so I must get to it. Hope you enjoyed my post!