From Dublin to Galway

Let's see, how much can I cram in before I put my very, very heavy head down to sleep? Tomorrow morning is the first day of orientation for NUI Galway, and we have to be ready by 9 o'clock on the nose. The European transfer students only have a couple of hours of orientation, but we--the blockheaded Americans, of course--get five hours. I'm noticing a pattern here: do the Irish ever sleep? Or is it just one long party, broken up occasionally by wee little catnaps?

I had a great nap today on the bus, which took us through the breathtaking countryside between Dublin and Galway. This afternoon was our first time in Gort na Coiribe, our apartments for the semester. My roommate Maggie (who was also my roommate in Dublin) and I LUCKED out--we have a big ol' double and our own bathroom. We'll be sharing the apartment with three Irish suite mates, which is incredible--and we have no idea who they are. The only legacy they left us before they left for winter holidays was a loaf of moldy bread, a carton of eggs (yes, eggs) on the counter, and the remnants from what looked to be quite the end of the semester blowout: Christmas lights, tinsel, and cardboard from a case of bad American beer. Seriously, Irish students? You're in Ireland, and that's what you spend your euro on? Yikes. I can't wait to meet our roommates. No idea if they are boys are girls...but there look to be traces of both scattered around the apartment. In the same alcove of space at the top of the stairs, there is a fuzzy leopard-print sweater, an ironing board, and a pile of gillette razors/shaving cream on top of a shard of mirror. The Irish=not so clean. My friends across the way opened their oven to find a nice treat--a tray of charred cheddar cheese and a piece of sausage sitting in a pile of lard. Mmmmm.

Anyhow, our last day and night in Dublin was amazing. Touristy, but amazing. We got to see the Guinness storehouse, which has a 7th floor bar that looks over the entirety of Dublin--St. Stephen's Square, Trinity, everything. It was gorgeous. We also strolled through the streets after dark (me doing more of a jaunt, seeing as I am about 99% more freezing than everyone else, most of the time) and asked locals for directions. Not only are Dubliners incredibly friendly, and usually walk you in the direction of wherever it is you want to go, but apparently everything also takes exactly "ten minutes" to get there.

"How far is Merrion Square from here?"
"Oh, about ten minutes, love."
"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the Great Wall of China?"
"Oh sure, that's a ten minutes that way."

I love Irish time. There are limited precious hours of daylight per day, between about 8 a.m. and 4 p.m., and no one quite knows (or cares) what the hour is.

The other thing I became aware of yesterday, in a way I've never, ever experienced before, is MEAT. Not to the Irish, but to the group of IFSA-Butler students on the program (mostly from midwest/East), I am the equivalent of a tofu-eating, bra-burning, California rabbit freak. I think they keep expecting me to pull out hemp leaves instead of a notebook to write on. Yesterday morning, we had this amazing seminar on cooking healthy, cheap meals in college--something I'm realizing few Americans on the program know how to do--using all products available in the area. The woman demonstrating the cooking was absolutely hilarious, and she gave us a handful of wonderful recipes. But when people were sharing their different dietary preferences, and I talked about being a vegetarian and living at the co-op, I started getting the alien stares. I said the word "compost," and one girl actually looked at me like I'd said "GSjdfjabieuhrauJN!"
Oh well. I guess I get to be hippie weirdo from California for a while, but that's okay.

On a related note, I'm really blown away by the quality of Irish food. During the cooking demonstration, the woman pulled out a package of meat and clarified to the group: this is NOT your average American meat, where as the Irish cook said, "you don't know how long it's been since the meat saw an animal." Irish meat is hormone free, always, and grass fed. We passed many farms on our way from Dublin to Galway, and the cows looked the way cows are supposed to look--chewing on grass, staring off into space, slightly bored. They were fat and happy... kind of like me, after the eating bonanza the past few days have been. I'm in heaven, though--brown bread and homemade soups, strong tea, real butter, Dubliner cheddar on fresh sandwiches... last night at Quay's, in the Temple Bar, I sat with a girl eating bangers and mash, surrounded by millions of fairy lights, and listened to a pair of musicians play everything from "Whiskey in the Jar"on Uilleann pipes to "Poker Face." How's that for a culture clash?

Within the larger group, it's amazing how quickly a few of us have bonded. We haven't had the chance to interact with many Irish students our own age yet (apart from two 18-year-old guys in the Temple Bar last night, who wanted to move to America because it's the home of NOFX and Rancid. OBVIOUSLY.)...but that will change tomorrow.

In the morning, it is off to campus! As fun as the past few days have been, I'm ready to be less of a tourist. I'm all tucked into my new bed, and Galway is home.