Leavin' on a Jet Plane...

Hey everyone.

I'm gonna make this short, because I have to catch a bus.

Where am I going?

A lot of places. Tonight we are staying in Dublin, and leaving really early tomorrow to catch a plane for Madrid, Spain. I'll keep updating you on where I've been, but expect a check-up more often, as I now am free from the grasp of schoolwork for mere month.

I'm going to see stuff throughout this next month that I never in my wildest dreams thought I would see. Somehow, I don't think it's totally set in yet. It will once I'm on this bus headed to the airport though.

Thanks for reading, and I'll check in with you again within the week. I'm off to explore for a little while. See what's out there.

Slan go foill,

Brendan

P.S.--- Scroll down and you'll find what I completed of my Scotland blog. Please drop me a line if you have any questions.

Saint Patrick's Day

Happy St. Paddy's Day a week ago, everyone!

Just thought I'd throw up a ditty about the festivities. To say that it was a really fun holiday would be a grotesque understatement. It was a veritable cornucopia of dance, song, the craic, and the color green. Plus the weather was the opposite of Irish, which made for a nice laid-back afternoon in the park on Grand Parade. The voices of Ronnie Drew, Luke Kelly and Shane MacGowan could be heard at nearly any pub, and the pints were a flowin'. But it was nothing like America, as I saw no one drinking 'green beer', and there were most definitely no corny shirts exclaiming "Kiss Me, I'm Irish." At least from what I observed. The only truly American thing I saw all day was Ol' Glory sometime during the parade, which I might add was pretty cool. There were some really intricate balloons, intimidating servicemen, and Green, White and Orange flags galore. No gigantic marching bands, though.

But guys, I DID hear some Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys at the Brog. They are two bands from the States that play punk rock with a bit of a traditional Irish influence. Which surprised me, because the natives usually don't take those bands very seriously.

Overall, it was a great time and it was an honor and a privilege to spend the holiday it it's original homeland.

Ring of Kerry

Above Photo: Killarney National Park

About a month ago, I jumped at the opportunity to snag the last seat on a weekend trip to county Kerry. The trip was last weekend and it was a pretty good time. The Ring of Kerry is the biggest tourist attraction in the whole of Ireland. The route covers the 170 km circle that starts in Killarney and rings through the villages of Sneem, Waterville and Cahersiveen (where our hotel was) and Ballinskelligs.

The Ring of Kerry boasted some of the best landscapes Ireland has to offer, and sheep/person ration was probably around 20/1. Which is understandable... the soil in the area is very infertile, so instead of growing crops, they let the sheep graze and

produce a LOT of wool. Anyways, we saw more than just sheep. Our tour guide, Marian, teaches Modern Irish (Gaeilge) at UCC and was raised in the southeast Kerry, so she had mad connections. Our coach driver took us places that Marian assured us were 'unreachable' to the average tourist, especially in the off-season. I could see why, seems how half the roads the bus drove on were roads I'd feel uncomfortable taking the little ol' Cougar on. There was a time when we were coming back from a slate cavern outside of Ballinskelligs and a man in a Benz came face-to-face with us. Knowing he couldn't get around, he simply drove backwards at around 30 mph for what had to have been a few kilometers. Extremely impressive driving.


But we saw many different landscapes, some of the more impressive ones being the Skelligs and Killarney National Park. Skellig Micheal (which I couldn't get a great picture of) is an ancient medieval monastery named after, of course, Saint Micheal. What's impressive about this place is that about a dozen monks led by St. Finoin paddled a boat out 8 km to the Skellig, which is basically a huge (read: HUGE) rock. They climbed to its summit and literally carved a village out of the rocks. This is regarded as probably the greatest archaeological feat and testament to faith of the early medieval period. A monastery clinging to cliffs.


We also ventured to the home of Daniel O' Connell, one of the most famous Irish people of all time. He was known for his great oratory skills as a barrister and was the first Irishman to sit in the British Parliament. O' Connell inspired many civil rights activists such as Gandhi and Dr. King for his promotion of non-violence to achieve social equality for Catholics in Ireland, as the Protestant Reformation had alienated and discriminated a whole country of its inital religion. His house, called Derrynane, is a big tourist attraction as well. The house was actually kind of boring but the area surrounding it was cool. I've come to discover that I'm more of an "outside" tourist. But I shouldn't speak too soon for I haven't gone to Europe quite yet.


And of course, there was recreation. Ireland beat Scotland in the Six Nations Rugby tournament (meaning we are one win away from snagging the first grand slam in years. Yeah baby!). As much as I loved going to the country of my ancestors, I still rooted for Ireland. No use 'joining the side that is slaughtered'. Friday night we had a Ceili (dance), where we learned at least a half dozen traditional step-dances. This is basically a more upbeat version of square dancing, and my odds were great since I was one of 3 guys on the whole trip of around 60 people.


Overall: great weekend. Even after Scotland (the undisputed most beautiful place I've ever seen), the landscapes here were still jaw-dropping and eyebrow-raising. Scotland blog is coming soon, I haven't had the time to finish it. I'll post at least three more times this week. Finals are coming up and boy are they going to be brutal.

P.S.-- I just had an idea. If anyone reading this has any questions about Ireland or other places I've traveled, shoot me or Mom and e-mail and I'll gladly post about it.

Slan go foill!

Alba Gu Bra!

Loch Ness

Greetings fellow relatives, well-wishers and other readers.

March is crunch time for projects over here at UCC. Mix that with traveling somewhere different every weekend and trying to plan my month in the mainland and you've got my excuse for a delay in posting.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Scotland had to have been the coolest place I've ever seen in my short adult life. It's a little surreal knowing that just in three days, I stood on the spot of land where golf, the undisputed 'best sport in the world' was invented, saw where my ancestors raised and herded their cattle, spalshed my hands in a magestic Scottish loch, ate the parts of an animal that are usually thrown in the dumpster, and traveled to landscapes I had only seen during one of the dozen times I've watched 'Braveheart'.

If you've got about a half hour (or maybe longer...), I'll elaborate on what went down a couple weeks ago. This won't be a small post.

Where to begin? Really hard to decide. First, a little family history lesson. We took a bus tour to the Highlands. About 20 minutes after crossing the lowland/highland border (which is quite amazing as there is no gradual change in landscape, it's more of a BOOM! MOUNTAINS type of deal) I was told by our tour guide that we were in the country of the Clan MacGregor. According to the guide, our clan was an 'outlaw' clan. After years and years of a power struggle with the Clan Campbell, the McGregors had been 'outlawed' and relied on hunting deer, rustling cattle to survive. They became so great at doing this that other clans would pay the MacGregors to NOT steal their cattle. For future reference, the Campbells are a clan that aren't viewed very highly upon--as they were traitors, selling out many of the highland clans later on when the English sought to crush the Highland way of life. Cattle were the main commodity in the highlands... every year clans would herd their cattle down to the lowlands, so there had to be towns every 50 or so km for the Highlanders and their cattle to rest. In fact, cattle were so important that some of the highlanders would let the cattle in the house with them during bad weather.

But the main story the tour guide elaborated on was the story of Rob Roy. It starts with the war with on Clan Colquhoun for years over land and cattle, eventually wiping out most of the men. Refusing to become allies with the MacGregors, the remaining Colquhouns went to the King James VI and pledged allegiance to him in turn for revenge against the MacGregors. Now being completely banished, some of the outlaws such as Rob Roy, who was a Jacobite (didn't support monarchial rule) would steal from the rich oligarchs controlling the Highlands and re-distribute it through the suffering clans. He was seen as a 'real-life' Robin Hood in the Highlands and was a well-respected cattleman. I could go on and on about all this historical stuff, but I don't want to bore you, and there are MANY different sides to each story. A pub we stopped at on the way back from Loch Ness spouted some of these views. When introducing myself to the barman, he exclaimed his 'discontent' with the MacGregors, while the man next to me said "Don't take any of that to heart lad, the man's a Campbell. Never trust a Campbell!"

<-- Glencoe: best view I've ever seen!

But during the rest of our Highland adventure, we saw breathtaking landscapes, a highland bull, and experienced each season of weather within a matter of hours. The trip north to Loch Ness seemed like an Iowa blizzard, while the ride back down seemed like a humid, cool day in Ireland. Anyways, I had the seat up in front and my eyes were glued to the window the whole time.

The view at Loch Ness was great. I don't mean to go off on another history lesson, but the stories the tour guide were what made the trip. Back in the 7th century when St. Columba, a missionary from the island of Iona off the coast of Scotland, set out to convert the Celtics from their primitive pagan views to Christianity. He was having a rendezvous with a Chief and his clan in the Northeast Scottish Highlands. "You have one God, only one. How can one God's power be greater than all of our gods? We have a god of the sun, god of the trees, god of the water..." After much discussion, they all decided to take a dip in Loch Ness, and there... in the deep... came the monster. (This is where the tour guide keyed in the 'Jaws' theme song). The legend is that St. Columba saw a large, black figure in the water, and proceeded to pull out his cross, calling upon God to shield them from the beast. Sure enough, a ray of light shined upon the black mass, sending the figure back into the depths. In a state of shock and awe, the Pagan Celtic chief said "We have many gods, Saint Columba... but your God is allll powerful." So begins, the legend of the Loch Ness Monster. And the ensuing rabble of college students, Asians armed with cameras and dozens of 'Nessie fridge magnets.

Enough with the stories. Two more highlights on this trip for me were going to St. Andrews in the region of Fife to see the sights, including the Old Links, where golf, the undisputed 'best sport in the world' was invented. This sight was truly wondrous to behold, as the whole eastern side of the 18th hole was lined with miles of shell-covered beach. I wasn't able to get onto the course and snap a shot of the "hell bunkers" but do me a favor. Dig a six foot hole. Stand in it. Put a golf ball down. Try and hit it out. If you succeed, congratulations, you are one of the few people on this earth that could play at St. Andrews. Just make sure to call ahead a few years in advance to reserve a tee time.
To close with my experience, I gobbled down some Haggis, Neeps 'n Tatties (turnips and potatoes). Delicious. Want to know what Haggis is? Ok. Sheep? Those adorable farm animals that we cattle-farming McGregors see no purpose in? It's their lungs, liver and heart diced up with oatmeal, suet, onions and an array of other spices, cooked up within a sheep's stomach, served with Scotch whisky gravy. Not bad stuff, don't let your eyes decieve you. It's not something I'm going to drool at when I see in the menu or teach everyone to cook, but it was cool to say the least, that I can tell people I ate it.

Well, I better call it a day on this one, so far. If I have some down time over the next month, I'll tell some more stories about Scotland. Great country, coolest place I've ever seen, and it was an honor to see where my ancestors came from!

Slan
Brendan

Another little anecdote.

Just a mini-blog, like the 'Dogs' post.

I learned where Americans get the idea of 'fighting Irish' from last night. Of course, they've been fighting off the English and dealing with constant political turmoil/oppression for centuries, but here's how I discovered 'fighting Irish.'

Arriving home from a Tuesday evening at Cavanagh's, I opened the door to the flat and looked to the left to see a drenched window and two of my roommates completely soaked. Not only were they soaked, but the whole hallway/kitchen/common room of the place was immersed in water. Drenched. Apparently my Irish roommate, Stephen, made a snowball, took it upstairs and threw it at my roommate Katie. Being from New York, she's a fighter herself, so I guess they had been hurling bottles of freezing water at each other for at least a half hour. I couldn't miss out on this, so I joined Stephen's side. About 5 to 8 gallons later we had forced the girls into a cease-fire. This is another classic case of tomfoolery gone awry, but 'fighting Irish' was the term that came to mind as Stephen and I emptied liters of water onto our roommate's heads.

Childish? Yes. Bad idea? Yes. But we had fun, and I'm pretty sure that our flat's still the cleanest one in Deans Hall. The heaters have been cranked all day so I'm sure it's at least 50% dry. Good times. Have a good day/night, everyone.

On the March.

All's grand on this side of the pond.

I'm currently waiting to print off boarding passes for the weekend outing in Scotland, land of the clan. The printer line's pretty long, so I thought I'd quick post another entry.

Last weekend was pretty good. My archaeology class went on a day trip to West Cork to check out some archaeological sites. Highlight of the trip (other than the ocean) was seeing this:

(That's a cattle stanchion. On the side of a castle. The farmer who owned the pasture was lucky that his land just happened to house a castle that just happened to have the right size doorway to help tag calves. Cracked me up a little bit.)

Adding to the cattle story, I spent about 25 minutes explaining to some friends how our farm works and what it was like... judging by their facial expressions it seemed they'd rather move to Indonesia and work in a sweatshop than put in the hours and work performed by Iowa's farmers.

Most of the places we went to were similar to this. We saw a lot of land and walked down a path to Drombeg Stone Circle (which was basically Stonehenge Jr.)

After the day long field trip I met some friends at Cavanagh's and we watched Ireland beat, but not trounce the English rugby team. I proudly wore the Eire rugby jersey and supported my host country, but to be honest the game was a bit shoddy. Very defensive, but Ireland's best players had a bad night and there were plenty of scoring opportunities wasted. Sunday was church again, then a movie (Doubt, with Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman-- good movie, check it out), then a long walk around Cork. It was about 60 degrees on Sunday but that's all changed as I watched it snow on the way back from the pub last night.

Overall, it was a decent weekend. Probably my last one in Cork till God knows when. Referring to the entry title, I'll be "on the march" for practically the next three months. March is jam-packed with paper deadlines and weekend trips around Ireland, the whole of April will be a backpacking excursion across Europe, and May will also bring excitement, as I plan to check out Amsterdam, London, and perhaps Prague. I can't believe it's March already. The coming months will be a veritable mental and physical test of endurance, so it's a good thing that my recent exercise/study habits have taken a turn for the better. Welp, I'm gonna get marching, I'll leave this entry at that.

Again, sorry about the lack of pictures. I don't know what I have to do (besides take my time) to get more posted.

Slainte

Dogs

I'll make this one quick.

As I walk around this neat little town/country, I see dogs everywhere. Doesn't matter what kind of dog. Pick one. Corgi, Scottish Terrier, Cocker Spaniel, Golden Retriever... whatever, there's a lot of them.

For some odd reason which, for the life of me, I can't explain... the dogs here are unbelievably well-trained. Every day I see over a dozen dogs getting walked. The amazing part about this? Not a single one has a leash on it. The dog simply walks about fifty feet ahead of its master, knowing the direct route it takes. The master has little control over the dog and can simply enjoy a short stroll about the town, puffing away at his pipe.

Hell, you even see this with stray dogs. The dogs that lack a master. They know where they are going. Dogs stroll down the sidewalks of Cork, Bandon, Midleton or Clonakilty, and I swear that a dog would be walking down the street, just as a typical Irishmen does... quaintly nodding "good day" to passersby and soaking up the good life. Maybe a tourist or two will throw them some scraps or scratch their head. It's not like they are asking for it, it just happens on occasion. The strays will just walk by one another and interact ust as humans do. A slight nod to each other when crossing paths, that's all. No fighting, no sniffing, no barking, no nothing.

How the people train dogs to act like this, I have no clue. It's really impressive though.