Part of me no longer wants to go home...

It has made world news.
My thoughts and prayers with everyone affected by this.
I'm shaking, in a state of complete shock, no words, tears, just blurred thoughts mixed with wretched mental images. (Currently not proud of where I come from...)

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros at Olympia Theatre

Within my time in Dublin, I told myself I definitely wanted to see at least one show, not including traditional music pub sessions, but a more formal concert either by a local, well known group or an American band on world tour. I got lucky with the timing of Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros show on Tuesday, July 17th at the Olympia Theatre, located on Dame Street.
     
I have actually seen them live before. They had a show in the Milwaukee Summerfest 2011 lineup, and I went, fairly excited, with a couple of friends. Up From Below had been one of my favourite records since its release, really. And the song Home, of course, was an anthem that meant so much to me: it is whistling and screaming at tour buses while sitting on Fifth Avenue with your best friend from Texas and having everyone think you're crazy; it's singing along with your brother while on vacation and loving the lyrics over and over; it's falling in love with someone new and believing in happiness; it's meeting new, forever lasting friends and taking over New York City; it's some of the most honest, storytelling and heartfelt words that can mean anything, anywhere... "home is whenever I'm with you."
     
And all of this I was expecting to both soak up and release while standing on the metal benches at the Summerfest stage. The hippie clan of a shifting 10-12 member group hypnotized me when they walked out on stage in summer dresses and long hair and hats and guitars and bongos and the like. It was a Wisconsin summer. I had hair down to my arse and was wearing a bow and a skirt that reached to my toes that I could wiggle in my Birkenstock sandals. I was ready to dance and sing and feel everything I felt whenever I listened to their hazy, choral melodies over and over with an involuntary sway in my body. The atmosphere was perfect, their appearance was perfect; I was ready for a wonderful show.
     
And a wonderful show I did not get.
     
Everything seemed lackluster and maybe I had too high expectations. Maybe they hadn't toured that much before, but I knew that to be a lie. Maybe they were faded and jaded and weren't feeling the Milwaukee love. Or maybe it's the simple fact that their record did not translate live. This seemed the most unlikely option, however, because there were 10 people on stage! They had everything they needed! Except perhaps the joy of performing for us. I didn't want to believe it, but that's how it all felt. I left downtown very disappointed.
     
And so, a year later, I decided to give them another chance. Some other friends were going, so I decided to hop on board. They came out with a new record at the end of May this year that really impressed me; I was excited to hear it live. Here (the 2012 album) is the more pop version of Up From Below, but also the more experimental version in regards to using all members of the band to really create a solid sound, more articulate than the previous record, but also just as genuinely Edward Sharpe as it could be.
     
I am happy to say that this time 'round made up for whatever was last summer's poor excuse. I sat in the upper circle where the acoustics of their hymns filled my ears and melted my heart. They opened with the first track from their first LP, which seemed appropriate and is one of my favourite songs by them (you can find the entire setlist here, on the awesome site I have come to know and love, setlist.fm), with a powerful row on the drums to finish it and the theatre exploded in an ecstasy of praise, I could almost hear the smiles of those surrounding me; it was all too real. They expressed gratitude and excitement about being back in Dublin. "We've been marathoning, having a Guinness every half hour. All day." Of course no one actually believed Alex Ebert, but Irish pride still resounded as a reaction to this statement. Everyone on stage, admittedly, seemed a little bit drinksy, but in that spirited Irish sense, not in a messing-up-the-lyrics-can't-even-play-guitar-too-wasted sense.
     
The music continued, the dancing on stage, and the sometimes impromptu jam sessions within songs where they would carry out instrumental glory and then return back to their unison singing. This is what The Magnetic Zeros are supposed to be about. Even the stuff from their new album fit seamlessly into the rest of the setlist, even the stuff from Alex's solo album, Alexander, adapted perfectly to the group. The best song played that night, however, surprisingly enough was not Home (although it is pretty damn hard to beat the feeling of pure, communal hippie love and real sentiment that you can almost see in the haziness leaking from the stage, intoxicating everyone with a laughing gas of pure joy when that song is played). Rather, it was a song they have never recorded, and are known to only play live, called "If You Wanna," that invites everyone to sing and dance and live, just like Cat Stevens, but in a more sing-a-long kids show version of it.  And they sure as hell got everyone to sing, and dance, and clap and laugh and love. Everyone out of their seats, fans or not. At this point, some audience members nearby whipped out sparklers, lit them up, and let them shine in the darkness of the balcony. Even strict security couldn't stop them; they couldn't break through the hugging and jumping barricades of purely happy humans. It was.......... wonderful. Just wonderful. :)
     
And so The Magnetic Zeros left me in musical awe, when every single member on stage got a solo (yes that is 10 solos... the two full drum sets counting as one, going back and forth and working off of each other, it was incredible... also including my first ever trumpet solo outside of high school band concerts that was absolutely glorious), when Alex and Jade wrapped their arms around each other and sent lyrics back and forth and out and throughout body and soul, when everyone was both singing and dancing and playing instruments on stage, everything! The reality of it all is that... I may never actually go to see them again, because I don't want to ruin the image that was truly such an excellent concert experience while in Dublin.
     
I took this photo of them with Instagram:
     

Another weekend away!

Hello, hello! Haven't reported back in a while. This weekend we're taking another trip... this time to Northern Ireland! We'll be spending some days in Belfast and the such. I'm excited to see this other part of the isle. Will write again about adventures upon return (and maybe even before that, write about my awesome night the other night at the Edward Sharpe show I attended!!).

Until then!

Photography (Part I - Connemara and the Burren)

As mentioned in my previous blog from my time in Argentina, I very much enjoy taking pictures, but have never really considered myself a 'photographer.' I have yet to upgrade to anything of the likes of a DSLR, but am more than pleased with my camera I have come to know, love and trust: a Canon PowerShot G11. It has a really nice LCD viewing screen so I more than often don't even have to look through the viewfinder. I know people who can talk up all the other technical stuff for days, and I know more or less about it, but I also just like the simplicity of point-and-shoot ability to get great shots. Note, however, that the following pictures I am about to show you have also been edited using Photoshop CS5, because I usually edit my photos before presenting them anywhere online (and by that I mean Facebook and these blogs). I like to use my digital camera, my iPhone (including fun apps like Hipstamatic and Instagram) and especially, film cameras: my mother's Pentax k1000 purchased in 1980 and my Diana camera (not an original that uses 120 film, but rather the remake by Lomography, which is proving to be just as fun and more convenient allowing 35 mm film... I unfortunately did not bring it with me on this trip!). When I take more photos and get my rolls of film developed, I will definitely put them up on here.

But for this first post of my photos, they will all be from my weekend trip to the region of Connemara and the Burren. I unfortunately did not check the battery life on my camera before heading out, so it lasted only a bit of time in Galway / Inishbofin, where I got to sneak some shots in other locations here and there. Because of this lack of preparation, my iPhone was my main source for taking photographs. I generally don't use it as my main camera, but I must say that having to use it on this trip sort of reinforced my trust in the device's camera. It can really take some nice shots!! Sorry for the scroll-y manner of this post... if you click on a photo to see a the full size, however, it opens a set that is easier to click through. Here are a few of my favourites from my trip...

Taken with my Canon:

Galway City

Galway City

Ferry from Cleggan to Inishbofin

The road from our hostel in Inishbofin to East End Beach

A lonesome sheep on a hill :P

Inishbofin

The sky of Inishbofin...

Had to avoid flash to not scare him away... we got to pet him!

Lunatic students in the cold waters off a beach of Inishbofin

The Cliffs of Moher

The Burren

Taken with my iPhone:

Inishbofin

The ruins of a castle on Inishbofin

Exploring the ruins -- looking out towards the island's unfinished lighthouse

Inishbofin

SHEEP!

A pitstop somewhere for lunch

Roundstone Pony Show

Quick shot of a group of musicians at the music festival

Clonmacnoise Monastery

Clonmacnoise

Clonmacnoise

Clonmacnoise

Taken with Instagram (follow me! @meglius) :

The ruins of a castle we visited

Clonmacnoise

My Trip to Connemara / Burren: A truly genuine outlook on Ireland

Connemara (Conamara) : an undefined region that takes up part of the West coast of Ireland, including parts of County Mayo and Galway. Full of beautiful landscape and includes some islands off the coast. Also the region that has been extensively studied by cartographer Tim Robinson, an Englishman who ended up moving to the region because he was captivated by its nature and its history.
   
Robinson has done extensive research and technical work in the area ever since living there. He published a three-volume study on the area entitled Connemara. I've read parts of the first volume, Listening to the Wind, which takes on a multi-faceted approach; it includes the oral history of the region, the geography, the biology / botany, the language, the tradition, the people. Stories of the ghosts who linger in local bogs because of an innocent stroll one evening that had a horrific end, giving the original Gaelic names back to certain places (toponymy is something I take great interest in), the different types of mosses that exist around Roundstone… the man seems to know every detail about this one region. And his presentation of it all makes quite the read.
   
The bit I read acted as my pretext for my weekend trip to the region. It only really distinctly applied to a few places, but within these specific surroundings, I couldn't help but hear Robinson's words ring true.
   
Our first weekend trip planned by the coordinators of the NYU program (over the weekend of Friday, July 6th - Monday July 9th) was such a success. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, and hope to recount it as best I can.
   
Our first destination was Galway City: a charming metropolis which I believe is the largest city in the Western region of the Republic. Thus, it can come off as almost kitschy and quite touristy. This was especially the feel when we visited, which happened to be the last weekend of the festival celebrating the Volvo Ocean Race of 2011-2012, which never makes stops on the West coast of Ireland because the waters are so dangerous. In fact, Galway City itself is a fairly 'new' city compared to others in Ireland, because there was never any significant Norman invasion in the region due to these dangerous conditions that define this coast, unlike other parts of Ireland whose cities are filled with tales of these invasions. A local at the festival grounds by the waters (which some friends and I hit up for some food cart seafood paella of glory) said the race will probably never come to Galway again, thus they had been celebrating since the previous weekend with food and festival rides and crafts and music along the port where the racers were greeted.
   
Perhaps my favourite part of our only few hours in the city was stopping into the shops, where I learned that the village of Claddagh used to exist within what is now the city's limits. Claddagh, then, of course, was the birth place of the famous jewelers, who created the iconic Irish symbol found on all types of jewelry, but original meant for a ring band. I have had one for quite some time, and never take it off, and also associate a weird sort of taboo with it, based on of course, the tradition of how it is worn. Another store I stopped in was Ó'Máille, which has the largest collection of traditional, hand-knit Aran sweaters in all of Ireland! I of course ended up talking to the owner and knitter herself, prompted by the Milwaukee Irish Fest sticker I saw behind her small register (this is one of the strangest occurrences I remember also happening on my last trip to Ireland, four years ago with my family... funny that it was repeated again this time 'round, which makes me suppose it isn't so strange after all). I explained to her that I was from there, and when she asked "which part?" I was startled. She said she knows Milwaukee and Chicago very well, for she visits often to see friends. She has even been to Irish Fest a few times to teach knitting classes!
   
After Galway, we headed to Cleggan to take the 40-minute ferry ride to the island of Inishbofin (Inis Bó Finne, or the Island of the White Cow). The island has a population of about 200 inhabitants, which apparently becomes about 250 in the summer or on weekends, something our group of students helped make possible in our time there. We stayed at the only hostel on the island for two nights, and frequented one of the maybe three pubs on the island those two nights. We got to know some locals, but mostly the visitors; the other large group that was not our own was a stag party who were on our same ferry, drinking cans of beer and presenting their sign of "what happens in bofin..." for all the boat to see. They set a sort of comical and sarcastic tone of "bofin" being the sort of Vegas of Ireland that created several quips throughout our time there... what happens in 'bofin, man... stays in 'bofin.
   
I never saw any purely white cows... but the regular kinds, along with sheep and horses were plentiful in the rocky hills of the isle. The rocky hills I got to know very well. On one of our days there, we took a five hour hike across what felt like the entire island (but wasn't really, since it was only part of it, but included strenuous ups and downs and a lunch break), with the local celebrity of the place, archaeologist Michael Gibbons, who knows the territory just was well as Robinson does. I learned so much and got to experience the rocky and grassy and bog-filled terrain of Ireland in a way that I will never be able to experience ever again. It was truly incredible. I was lucky to have my camera battery die this day, of course... so I ended up taking most of my photos on my iPhone, which didn't turn out too bad. I will make a separate post of photos from this trip.
   
Inishbofin was a sort of magical place and experience overall. It was everything I wanted Ireland to be in my travels here. The people, the landscape, the accents, the animals, the water, the wind, the ruins, the food (I had the best mussels ever in my life at the local pub), the smell, the sky, the rocks, the coast. Everything was right and everything was beautiful. I am lucky to have visited the place, and most definitely recommend it for anyone doing any travels on the West coast of Ireland.
   
On Sunday, we departed the island and took the ferry back to the mainland and then made our way to Roundstone, which Robinson writes about thoroughly in his text. We stopped at the local and fairly renown pony show, where we got to see some beautiful horses and prized sheep. We spent only a short time there, but it was a nice experiencing, being able to see and be another spectator at a local tradition.
   
Afterwards we made our way to Milltown Malbay in County Clare for the annual Willie Clancy traditional music festival, a sort of informal festival where the pubs in the town have live music each night by groups of people who gather and sit in the musicians booth (no stage in any of these places) and play music while everyone in the pub drinks their pints and stomps their feet along to the traditional tunes. The first pub I stopped in gave me a twinkle in my eye, surely. Everything was so genuine and real. This is what traditional Irish music was all about. I stood next to an older man who started a conversation with me by asking what I was drinking (a pint of Smitwick's with a head of Guinness, a trick I had learned just moments before, in the same pub... HIGHLY recommended!). He then continued to name the song they were currently playing, and I asked him more about traditional Irish music and how he knew so much. He said that the man who was playing the accordion, whose fingers were a blur from his quick and seemingly effortless movement, taught him, his sons and his grandsons also how to play. After finishing his pint, he held the empty glass in his left hand and rapped the sides with a silver ring he wore on his right, adding a sort of additional percussion to the sound of the band. I felt like I was in a movie (it reminded me of a scene in the documentary The Rocky Road to Dublin [which is also a traditional song] where a man starts playing spoons to add to the music in a pub). I visited other pubs within the same night, and always enjoyed the atmosphere, and, of course, the music.
   
We spent the night in Doolin and then headed towards the Burren to see the ancient portal tomb, upon the amazingly shaped rocky terrain that sort of defines the area. Afterwards we visited the Cliffs of Moher, which never disappoint in their majestic beauty. Then, we took our bus to Clonmacnoise, an ancient monastery located in what is essentially the center of Ireland. Much of it is still preserved, and one can tell it must have been a glorious sanctuary in its heyday. I am a fan of visiting old and current monasteries, churches, and the like... particularly in a country whose history and culture, both ancient and contemporary is defined by these institutions, represented by these structures. Please view my post on the photos from my weekend trip to get a feel for this beautiful location.
   
Whew... that was a long one. Sorry about that. There was just so much to say... and still not all of it was said! I will end with the fact that I was very lucky to take such a nice trip and see so many things in such a short time. It was quite the experience.

Dublin, Dublin... and away!

It's hard to say what I really expected of Dublin before coming here. Like any European city, I imagined old buildings along a river with elegant bridges and pubs on pubs on pubs with good company be they locals or not.

But as I have learned in my travels and particularly in writing about travel, our anticipatory images are always skewed in some manner, whether they be twisted by stories or media or whether they simply be an underdeveloped form of the truth. One can only really get a feel for a place in walking the streets and talking to the people. Postcard pictures of a location's quintessential sight seeing spots is never enough!

I have been here for almost a week now, and still do not quite know what the essence or feel of Dublin is. I need to do more exploring, more going out, meet more locals, perhaps read more Joyce. My inklings thus far: a tension exists in the cosmopolitan way of life. It differs so much from the rest of the island, yet it still holds true to certain facets... particularly linguistic ones, where all the signs are posted in Gaelic first and then English underneath. Irish Gaelic is officially the first language of the Republic of Ireland, and English the second. And another stronghold that permeates throughout the country: the history. It's rich and omnipresent; it's real and reminiscent. You cannot avoid it, nor would you want to.

I hope these inklings develop and become truer, purer feelings instead of tickles in my toes when I walk the cobble stone streets and pretend I'm aware of all that surrounds me.

So far for my courses, we have visited the National Gallery (currently under renovation, so most of their pieces are stored away - it has also been in the news lately due to a Monet painting that was publicly damaged), the National Museum, and lovely St. Stephen's Green, a large park which is the perfect city spot for those rare moments of glistening sunshine.

This weekend, however, we are traveling to the West coast, in the region of Connemara. It isn't a county or one of the four main provinces of the isle (Ulster, Munster, Connacht, Leinster). It is actually a fairly undefined area that takes up parts of County Mayo and Galway, both destinations on our trip. A basic agenda: Galway city, Cleggan, a ferry to Inishbofin (an island off the coast), Roundstone, the Burren, the Cliffs of Moher, Clonmacnoise, then back to Dublin. On my family's vacation just over four years ago, we visited the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher, both of which I am very excited to see again.

I'm actually posting this while in transit. I hope to report back after this glorious weekend!

Slán!

Welcome to Éire: My first days in Dublin

Dia dhuit! Hello! I am currently located in Dublin, Ireland, where my story begins.

For revisiting readers or for new comers, I just spent my spring semester of my sophomore year at NYU in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a four months adventure whose tales can be found here on my other, now finished blog.

Context for my travels: NYU has an incredibly wide range of study abroad opportunities and locations (one of the main reasons why it ended up being my school of choice). I have been to their Buenos Aires site, and am now taking advantage of their summer program in Dublin. It takes place on the campus of Trinity College (also called University of Dublin… the two names are synonymous), the city's oldest university, established by Queen Elizabeth I in 1592. It is located in the city centre, which I have found thus far to be quite convenient.

I arrived on June 29th, where I spent the day getting to my hostel and resting. After a nice nap, however, I decided to walk around a bit for my first time in Dublin.

I have been to Ireland before, just a little over four years ago, as a family vacation. We traveled on the west coast, seeing parts of County Mayo, Galway and Clare, but never went to Dublin. I'm so glad to be back in the land of Guinness and Gaelic, in an entirely new locale.

And Dublin is quite different from my previous images and experiences of Ireland.

From that short walk on my first day, I was enchanted by pedestrian streets of red brick (Grafton Street, branching directly off of the front gates of Trinity), road signs in both Gaelic and English, live music sounding from pub corners, certain areas (albeit they may be somewhat touristy) such as historic Temple Bar, the River Liffey and its series of lovely bridges like that of O'Connell Bridge, and thick Irish accents sounding left and right. And do not worry folks, I made sure to have a Guinness on my first day there. Ah… the head of a Guinness on tap, direct from the source, its country of origin… it's thick and soft like a rich Wisconsin custard… BUT FOR GROWN UPS!

So here I am now, on the second of July, having moved in to my graciously spacious dorm on campus and having had a sort of brief 'orientation' for the program and our new home. There are only about 30 of us, I would say, with a handful of graduate students also taking the same courses. The program is for six weeks, and so we are only to take 8 credits, where each class is a three hour long lecture. I am enrolled in Irish Culture: Tradition and Modernity, and Contemporary Irish Literature (which I already really enjoy, even though the first class is tomorrow, because I've already started reading some of our books for the course). Today was the first day of classes, and they continue up until August 11th. So homework will be heavy, since these are essentially intensive summer courses, but fun is still to be had! I promise!

To end my introductory post… I will answer the question that was asked often during my last semester abroad: why did you choose [Ireland]? Why are you here? I would like to answer this question with a series of interactions I have had here so far:

Immigrations officer: Miss Kilkenny… any relatives living in Ireland?

Me: No, not anymore.

Immigrations officer: Are you sure about that?

Check-in assistant at TCD: Second name?

Me: Kilkenny.

Him: Ahh… hmm… yes, that makes sense… first?

Me: Mary.

Him: Good God… 

Professor Pádrig Ó Cerúill (taking roll) : Kilkenny. Hmm. Yes. That is a good Irish name.

I am a fourth Irish from my father's side, and a little bit more from my mother's side. I have pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes, and freckles all over, and that with the name has gotten me more than enough remarks back in the States of my heritage. I love it. I love being Irish, having a pool of ancestry from this place (which I hope to learn more about in my years), being associated with this place on any account. I never take off my Claddagh ring and I wear it with pride as it being an Irish symbol and as a believer of what it represents. I have learned a little bit of Gaelic in my free time, and will continue to learn the language. Part of me has always wanted to return from where my ancestors came… so here I am.

More posts to come soon, particularly of trips we take via the program's agenda, and any class excursions. Dublin is much smaller than Buenos Aires or New York City, so I am very excited to truly get to know this city, despite my short time here.

Slán!