What can I say? After only a little more than 4 months in Ireland, it is time to fly home. The feeling is very bittersweet. Study Abroad has been hands down, the most amazing, challenging, and incredible experience of my … Continue reading
[Long overdue post with multiple events in it, all from several weeks ago]
A few weekends ago I went on a Weekend Adventure Trip to County Donegal, Ireland. For 3 days I got to bike ride along roads with nothing but sheep, fields, and the occasional building, go horseback riding to see a waterfall, rock-climb with the ocean 20ft to my left, sail on the Atlantic ocean, learn how to navigate using maps and compasses as we trekked over hills, and learn about the amazing history of the region as we walked across wet-lands.
This trip was incredible. It was a long bus ride to the hostel– 4 hours, because it was on the other side of the country, but entirely worth it! (It feels so weird to say that I crossed an entire country in 4 hours. Oh Ireland).
The rugged beauty of nothing but grass, sheep, hills, and rocky coastline was breathtaking. And the people that led the activities were all locals of Donegal! They were great—so friendly, easy to talk to, and couldn’t wait to share their culture with us.
My favorite parts of the trip were hands down rock-climbing next to the sea, and sailing on the Atlantic. I have been rock-climbing in the New Hampshire White Mountains twice in my life, and was eager to try climbing in Ireland. The first thing I noticed was how different the rock was. The NH rock climbing I’d done was on granite—nice, smooth, cold granite. The rocks in Ireland were rough. Extremely abrasive and actually a little painful haha. My hands were raw when I got to the top, but it was entirely worth it: the view was incredible. Also pretty cool was that we got to meet Iain Miller, who is well known in the rock-climbing community. He was the one belaying us! (I got a high five from him when I came back down. It was epic).
The view from the top of the rocks
Rock-climbing!
Rock climbing I was ready and excited for. Sailing, however…. I was a little nervous. I was extremely excited, but also kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong with 6 people on a very small sailboat in the freezing, rough Atlantic ocean (a lot, if you were wondering). I don’t have a fear of water; I grew up playing in the ocean and going water-tubing and fishing on lakes. I do, however, have a fear of falling into a freezing cold ocean in the middle of March, with no land around that I can swim to.
I told myself that if worst came to worse, and we did capsize or something (this is how my mind works, people)…. well, I actually had no solution to that situation. When I say we were in the middle of NOWHERE, I mean it. No houses around, no lifeguard points, no nothing. Gareth, the man who took us out sailing was a certified instructor, so I just decided to trust in that.
And I am so glad I did. Sailing is amazing. The sea was very rough, and I kept getting sprayed with ice-cold seawater, tasting of salt and beautiful Ireland. And the pace was incredible! Due to the intensity of the wind, not only were we speeding along, but it also made steering the boat a struggle.
We each had a turn to take the helm of the boat and steer. You’ve really got to love the Irish. When the first student took hold of the tiller, he looked at Gareth and asked, “how do I steer”? Gareth replied, “the best way to learn is just to give it a go!”
The student turned the till and we all grabbed the sides as the boat took a sharp right. “Other way, other way,” Gareth laughed, un-phased by the sudden jolt.
Sometimes the wind made it so hard to hold the course, that one side of the boat was nearly letting water in. Of course, this was always the side I happened to be on, and each time it happened I would lean forward and grab something in the middle of the boat. It was both terrifying and fantastic at the same time.
My sailing group
I’M STEERING THE BOAT!
We also pulled multiple tacks (switched directions), which required all of us working together as a team. Gareth was a great instructor and I even got to direct one of the tacks, because I was at the till during it. Basically, you say “ready about” to let everyone know to get in position. Once everyone is set you yell “lee-ho!” and push the tiller all the way to one side and climb over it, while people switch out ropes and swing the sail the opposite way. It’s quite a lot going on in one moment on a little boat.
Looking back, I think the reason I loved sailing so much was because it was a challenge for me. I love trying new things, and this was something I had zero experience in. Also, I like going fast 🙂
And the easy-going nature of our instructor made it that much better. He shared stories with us as we sailed, about his life out in Donegal, about sailing with dolphins, about fishing, and his love of the incredible ocean. You can check out their sailing school here.
Besides sailing, we also went trekking through the hills of Dongeal with a guide, learning how to navigate using topographical maps and compasses. These people go hard-core. In the middle of our hike a steady, cold rain started. We were soon walking through what felt like a marsh. The Irish hills, by the way, are extremely uneven, and I am honestly surprised that no one sprained an ankle. Due to the rain, poor visibility, and the slippery, uneven ground, everyone took at least one tumble or slip, even our guide. My sneakers were entirely flooded with water, and there was nothing but brown and green marshland in sight. Even the sheep had disappeared! But our guide was not deterred and happily kept going, having us take turns guiding the way further and further away from civilization. An hour later we were all beyond thankful to get back to the warm hostel, and after we dried off and warmed up, we could more fully appreciated what we had accomplished.
Our new-found sheep friends
More sheep
Where we were hiking
The adventure trip was everything I had hoped for. I literally climbed, walked, rode, and sailed in Ireland with nothing but pure, unspoiled earth for as far as the eye could see. Everyone else on the trip had the same great sense of adventure, and I had fun making new friends and exploring with others.
Us near an old wrecked boat
Study Abroad 2014
**
In other news, I joined a volleyball team at UCD this semester. After 2 months of practices and training, we competed in one of Ireland’s National Volleyball Tournaments. It was a 2-day tournament held at UCD, with teams from many different volleyball clubs across Ireland. We literally spent the whole weekend in the gym. When we weren’t playing a match, we were supporting the UCD guy’s team, screaming and shouting for them.
I loved playing competitive volleyball again with a team—it honestly brings me a lot of happiness to be part of a team, and there is nothing quite as satisfying as spiking a volleyball. My coach had me playing right side hitter, which was new for me (I have played outside hitter for the past 7 years of my life), but it turned out fine. We made it to the finals! It was a long, hard final match, and although we played really well, we ended up losing after 3 very long sets. Still, it was a really fun weekend.
The UCD Cusai Women’s Team
Paris has been called The City of Love and The City of Light, but it really should be called Paris: the city where you climb things. Did you know you can climb to the top of the Notre Dame Cathedral? To the top of the Arc de Triomphe? Take an elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower? Climb a million and one steps to get a beautiful view of Paris in the artist quarter? You even climb their subways, because the RER is a double-decker!
I am still in shock that I got to visit Paris, and I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to go. Paris was unlike any other city I’ve been to, and the language barrier actually added to the experience.
The only French I knew going over was “hello, goodbye, my name is, do you speak French (helpful, right?), do you speak English, please, thank you very much, where is, what, yes and no.” I had to talk with people to pass through security/customs, buy food, ask if I was on the right train, gain entrance to museums, and a lot more. Honestly, it was fantastic. For food, I just made sure to say, (in French), “Hello! Please…” and then give my best try at the food item I was ordering. I rarely encountered anyone who was annoyed by my more-than-broken-French—most people seemed to like that I was trying. Other than that, it was a weird but cool experience to have people talking to me, and yet I literally had no idea what they were saying. I know more than once I just stood there smiling, because it was so bizzare. You had to get creative to express what you’re trying to convey… it was like playing charades.
My first stop was the Latin Quarter, a section with loads of restaurants, crepe and panini places, and too many tourist shops. With my broken French and a lot of please and thank yous, I got a ham and cheese panini (jambon, fromage) and a bottle of water. THE FOOD WAS DELICIOUS. And Latin Quarter, aside from being really quaint with narrow streets and beautiful architecture, smelled absolutely amazing. I ate my food and followed signs for Notre Dame along the Seine River, stopping at an intersection—the signs had stopped. I looked around, wondering where the signs had gone, and as I turned, Notre Dame rose up in front of me.
It. Was. Beautiful.
I felt like a balloon had suddenly been inflated inside my chest. That’s the best way to describe it. I was shocked by the beauty and power of Notre Dame. It’s crazy to think that many years ago it had been decrepit, and was going to be torn down.
Notre Dame
Lock Bridge
Yum
French Pastries
Arc de Triomphe
Paris after the rainstorm
After walking around the gardens in the back for a while, I started heading back towards the subway station. Halfway there, it began full out down pouring. Me and everyone else ran for the cover of the thick trees in front of Notre Dame, but soon the rain even penetrated through that, and I was getting extremely soaked.
An older Parisian couple on my right called out “Mademoiselle!” and then said something else in French. I turned to see that they were gesturing for me to share their umbrella! I said a lot of “merci!” as I ducked under the shelter, and they smiled in return. They asked (in English) if I spoke French, and I told them no. It turns out they didn’t speak much English, but the woman smiled and said, “Paris, beautiful.” I smiled back and said “oui!”
And so we stood there looking at Notre Dame while the rain poured down, having reached the extent of our foreign language abilities. It didn’t matter though. Smiles and body language can convey more than a thousand words can.
As the rain lightened up to a drizzle, we parted ways. They said, “goodbye,” and I said “au revior”.
*
Grace took me to the Lourve later that day, and we wandered the massive halls, taking guesses at what each statue/painting represented—the descriptions were, not surprisingly, in French. We (after many wrong turns) reached the Mona Lisa! I’d heard her eyes follow you anywhere you go, so we walked in an arc around the painting. It’s official: Mona Lisa is the biggest creeper in the whole museum. Her eyes follow your every movement! And she has such a smug smile about it….
We then went to the Arc de Triomphe, which is basically a massive rotary in the middle of Paris, with 6 or more lanes of traffic going around it. It was beautiful in the sunset 🙂
Saturday we packed the entire day full. Things we did included:
Eiffel Tower
At night!
Pere Lachaise Cemetery
The Love Wall
Sacre Coeur
Artist’s neighborhood
On Sunday I ventured to Versailles, the palace that King Louis XVI lived in while the rest of France faced extreme poverty (good job, King Louis). It was insanely large. I had known it was a big palace, and I’d been told the gardens were big, but… WOW. A maze of paths awaited me, and it was a lot of fun to lose myself in the gardens, take any turns I wanted, and then pull out the map and have no idea where I was. (I’m not even joking—I really get a kick out of doing that. I’m like a little kid running around). I really loved the sense of timelessness, peace, and tranquility the landscape held (which is ironic, considering a revolution was going on while King Louis took daily strolls through the paths).
Versailles. It’s not even all in shot
Things that struck me about Paris:
Walking around a foreign city made me feel so alive. I loved seeing something new and unfamiliar every turn I took. I loved looking at maps and signs to figure out where on earth I was, or ignoring them all together and seeing where I ended up. (Don’t worry Mom, I only did that in Latin Quarter and Versailles).
There is a problem with visiting such a beautiful and historic city, with a new culture, though. Actually, there’s a massive problem with doing any traveling at all.
You just want more.
My Grandpa died this past winter. My Grandpa is where the Irish comes from in my blood—it is his ancestors that I am searching for through town hall and census records in Dublin. I went to the part of Ireland his lineage is from, Donegal Ireland. In Donegal I hiked through the hills, sailed on the ocean, and rock-climbed, with nothing but sheer amazement, joy, and a small sense of longing within me.
After taking my last final of fall semester 2013, I was done with school in the States for 8 months! I’d see my family and Grandparents over Christmas, before I headed to Ireland.
But as I packed up my dorm room, my phone rang.
When my Grandfather passed, I was angry. I was beyond angry, actually. I was furious at the circumstances that had caused his death—it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t okay, and most of all, I knew others and me felt deeply that it wasn’t his time yet. We thought we would have another decade with him. I thought he’d be there to see my sisters and I get married. I had wanted that. I had really wanted that. He’d been there for every other milestone in our lives.
I told 2 people what happened, and after that, I didn’t tell anyone. I was sick of our technology age, of people posting everything about their lives online. I didn’t want to write a status about his passing. I didn’t want to post pictures of him and me. I didn’t want to share this part of my life with people through a computer or phone screen. I know other people who have done this, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it; everyone deals with grief differently. For me, I went home to be with my family, and said nothing.
Early into winter break, one of my friends showed up on my doorstep with a beautiful winter cactus.
“I heard about your Grandfather. I’m really sorry,” she said. I hadn’t told her. One of my friends had found out, and told the others in our group. The sent cards, and texts, and calls, letting me know they were thinking of my family, praying for us, and were there to talk to if I needed.
I don’t think I have ever cried so much in one month.
I realize looking back, the saying is true: Friends are like the stars—you may not always see them, but when it’s dark outside, they shine. Through a difficult time in my life, I saw I have friends I can count on. Friends who knew about my life outside of Facebook or my blog, friends who literally showed up at my doorstep. I can’t really put into words what this meant to me: I don’t take friendship for granted.
I miss my Grandfather, still, months later. I am going to miss him for a long time, and I will feel the hole in our lives for a long time. This I know. But being in Ireland, exploring this beautiful country… even though I can’t share it with him through postcards and skype calls… this is his ancestry. He visited Ireland a few years ago, and this semester I walked some of the same paths he did. I saw some of the same, breath-taking sights that he and my Grandma did. I may not be able to tell him about it myself, but that’s okay. He already knows.
IceBlueSpark 