Sept 29 and 30th

After class today I teamed up with my buddy Alex Schafer and expanded my meat business to milk, eggs, and produce of all varieties. Schafe and I pranced around and knocked door to door like a bunch of little girl scouts taking orders for Thin Mints, Samoas, Tagalongs, and Do-si-dos... Too bad we were ordering raw ground beef, chicken, bananas, and potatoes instead!

Meat orders:

Cottage 1: 2lbs minced beef, 10 chicken fillets

Cottage 2: 4lbs. of minced beef, 11 chicken fillets

Cottage 3: 5lbs minced meat, 6 chicken fillets

Cottage 4: 5lbs of minced meat, 6 chicken fillets

Cottage 5: No Meat… Their loss

Cottage 6: Not Meat… Sounds like a personal problem

Cottage 7: 2 chicken fillets

Totals: 35 chicken fillets and 16 lbs minced meat

Delivery: Tomorrow Evening

We marched into Spiddal and talked business the whole 25min walk. Alex bragged about his grandpa who started a butcher shop as a young man and expanded to 2 grocery stores and a handful of gas stations. I bragged about grandpa’s hard work and achievements too. We both agreed that business ran deep in our family roots. I gloated about my family’s business and mentioned Jinette’s family's business too. Our world views seemed to be one of the same. We wore our pride on our shoulders and made our way to the produce shop.

The owner of the produce store looked glum as we approached her. She sadly informed us her shop was going out of business and she couldn’t be of any help. I asked her if she knew anyone else we could get produce through. She smiled and pointed out the entrance way to a big black truck across the road with the words "Clada Fruits and Veggies" branded on the doors. Mike, of Clada Fruits and Veggies, who apparently supplied to her store, all the restaurants in the area, and the grocery stores around town was magically making his rounds. Alex and I had just gotten a hell of a break. If we pulled this off we’d be getting grocers rates, delivered direct, and better quality produce.

Mike was inside a local restaurant in Spiddal discussing business with a client. Alex waited outside while I walked to the end of the block and met with Sean the butcher. I asked his assistant for the price sheet I requested last week. The guy handed me the bulk rate prices and current sales. I shook my head and explained that Sean and I had arranged a better price because of the large quantities of meat I’ve been ordering. The assistant walked to the back room and discussed with Sean and informed me he’d be at the counter in a couple minutes with the revised price sheet. Sean slowly waddled to the counter and on the normal bulk rate sheet scribbled my rate next to the bulk rate.

I placed my order, paid up, arranged a delivery time, and ran out the door to meet Schafer.

Schafer was still waiting for Mike to close a deal with the restaurateur. After a good amount of time Mike finished his transaction and we intercepted him on his way back to the truck. Schafer and I pigeonholed him before he jumped in his truck. We explained our situation, but he didn’t respond, but instead looked confused. The look painted on his face and the lack of speaking helped us to recognize that he didn’t speak a lick of English. We slowed down our foreign tongue and spoke his language: fruit, vegetables, and money. The confused look left his face and we finally broke through to him that we wanted to make a deal. In a thick, thick Gaelic accent he agreed to deliver us a wide variety of produce at the wholesale prices every Monday.

I just completed another international business deal and the first with a language barrier. I’m considering expanding the meat portion to the U.S., so let Mr. Rick Bartusch know I’m not letting anything get in my way…

Schafe and I walked away with a deal, a smile, and a dangerous amount of pride for a couple of 20-year-olds.

Fast forward one day, Sean dropped the meat off at 6p.m. at my back door. I pulled a Joe Lais and created an Excel spread sheet to total the orders for each cabin automatically. Here’s an example:



I added a 5 cent fee to each lb./unit of meat. My total earnings for this week were €8.9 with a €1 tip. I turned a profit, provided a useful service, and saved my customers money.

I told Sean yesterday that I'd push to expand the meat to more products in his butcher shop, like eggs, milk, and basic condiments and dressings. I told him, "I'm gonna make you rich this semester..." Sean put an extra 5lbs. of ground beef and 11 extra chicken fillets in my order for this week as a heck of a thank you...

So I did alright today...

Not only that, but I recieved a mound of mail, a phone call from Kelli, a phone call from Jinette, and a SJU Homecoming T-Shirt from Jinette in these last two days!

Sometimes everything seems to be going too right and that puts a smirk on my face... I better stop bragging and start reading and taking notes on my history book so I can watch the Twins rock the Sox. The game starts at 1a.m. Ireland time, so it's gonna be a long night. We've been catching the last few games via MLB TV the internet. The guy who purchased the subscription is actually from Chicago and a Sox fan, so that makes it interesting. Once the regular season is over the subscription expires, so I'm gonna organize a collection from a bunch of us to get the Post Season...

GO TWINS!

Sept 25th - 28th

*If you read this post you must complete the whole weekend to understand the point of the long post.

Thursday

Woke up and threw everything together for an adventurous weekend. We drove to Strokestown Estate and Famine Museum for a tour and to learn a little bit about the hard times. We ate lunch and hit the road for Belfast. As my head hit the seats I fell asleep on the bus to the steady beat of Johnny Cash echoing the putter of the coach’s engine and the bumps of the road. Before my eyes started to glaze over, the images of hectares of green meadows with frolicking sheepish looking white blurs in the distance and moss covered green rock formations were stained in my mind. Suddenly, the music stopped, the putter of the engine died, I awoke, and the image of beauty dissolved away turning into the ugly bustling city of Belfast. The meadows turned to hectares of sidewalks, road, litter, and an occasional weed that had pushed through to see the light and breathe the polluted air.

The bus door automatically slid open and the cabin filled with the smell of sewage and rotting garbage choking us all out. The retched smell crept up my nose as I evacuated. The group unpacked and hit the streets of Belfast for a night on the town. It was warmer than the countryside. The body heat and the smokestacks pumping out pollution must have caused a little global warming. I took off my sweater and with pride revealed my “Johnnies” T-Shirt to the city of Belfast.

It was late at night and the Gothics were out at full force. As I passed by the people they shot me evil glares and walked away from me in disgust. I should have shot them evil glares… After all they were the ones dressing like freaks of nature.

Goths dipped in tattoo ink with enough piercings to be a supplier for Claires replaced the happy Catholics of the south who smiled and greeted you with a wave while pushing their smiling baby’s stroller around the town. It was like I’d fallen asleep at Saint Bens and woken up in Mcalister on Halloween. The ones who weren’t Goths had more accessories than available at the MOA. The men accessorized like the women in the states and the women thought it was 1980 again.
We ate at a pizza joint called Spice World and visited The Kitchen Bar to end the night. The angry people made a grand first impressive for Belfast.

Friday

I woke up the next day and got a tour of the war torn city and the murals tagged on the walls of buildings reminding you that the underlying hatred of the Nationalists and the Loyalists is still here in Belfast. We discussed the paintings, looked at monuments, and learnt about the blue painted fences and colored curbs of the neighborhoods. Fittingly, my camera died as I snapped shots of the divisive murals depicting the Nationalists as terrorists and the Loyalists as evil oppressive government puppet.

We also toured and learned about the area that the Titanic was built.
After the informative tour I went to Castle Court shopping mall to grab a bite with some of the guys. The shopping mall was packed with people making the air warm. For this reason, I wore my Johnnies T-Shirt once again with pride. I picked up a box of Chinese food and inhaled it. As I was eating a girl across the way was staring at me. I made eye contact and instantly knew why she was giving me the eyes. She and I were the only normal looking people in a nine mile radius. She was a cute blonde girl who hadn’t fallen in an ink well or been sprayed by a piercing gun. I shot her a smile from across the food court. To my surprise she gave me a disgusted look, got up from her seat and pranced off. I decided I hated this city at this point and booked it back to my hostel to hibernate until we drove to Derry.

The guys didn’t like that idea and convinced me to go to the Pete Molinari Coors Lite Open House Folk Festival concert at the Black Box Theater and Pub for the night. We walked there on the brisk night; hence I concealed my Johnny pride and put on my sweater. I dropped 14 pounds there and weighed the same when I walked out the door.

We arrived unfashionable early to the concert, snatched a front table, and watched as the crowd trickled in. The crowd consisted of middle aged men and women who dressed conservatively and weren’t supporting the nose rings. The guys all expressed their concerns about the older crowd and prayed it wouldn’t be lame. I told them I was comforted by the middle aged crowd, because the older generations grew up listening to quality music like Dylan, Cash, and Zeppelin instead of Fitty Cent, Eminem, and the Hanson Brothers. I was right. The concert was spectacular and everyone agreed. The Irish folk and Guinness beer complimented each other. The people were fun, unlike everyone else I’d met in Belfast. They didn’t look like the devil possessed them due to faces expressing anger. I started to enjoy the city and my opinion of the place became more moderate.

Saturday

The next morning we visited Giant’s Causeway as we made our trek to Derry. The Earth’s handy work created a natural masterpiece at this landmark. At the picturesque attraction my buddy confronted me about my T-shirt that read, “Johnnies” in big letters. The T-shirt I’d been wearing around all of Belfast except at the grand concert. He looked me in the eye and in a concerned tone asked me, “Do you know what that means?” I mockingly said, “I have no idea, maybe that I’m a Johnny, Ya know that place we go to school.” Turns out the creped out girl at Castle Court, the angry Goths, and hateful people on the streets of Belfast knew what my shirt meant. In the U.K. Johnnies is slang for condoms or someone who visits a prostitute frequently. I’d be repulsed too if some creeper glared and smirked at me who wore a shirt that said in big bold letters, “I VISIT PROSTITUTES FREQUENTLY ” or “CONDOMS”!!!

I covered my Johnnies T-shirt with a chuckle and a hoody and was received by the people of Derry much better. We got there and waited for our tour guide to come, but the clock ticked and no one was to be found. A random guy who stopped by the hostel asked if he could be of service. Chuck our Prof told him the situation. The guy offered to give us a tour of the city himself. Chuck hesitated, but the 30 of us students were already down the block listening to the guys lecture before he could say no thanks.

The tour guide who we picked off the street happened to be a former guide and very educated on his town’s past. He brought us to the true blue Protestant side of town and gave us his biased opinion about the Loyalists, and then marched us over to the Bogside of town where the Catholics and he reside. He poured out his emotions and told us stories about him going to bed hungry at night and Nationalist’s like Bobby Sands starving to death in the prisons. He told us about his dad spending time in prison and getting beaten. He proudly continued by telling us his dad was elected as the city mayor a few years ago. The people who beat his dad in prison years ago were now opening his door to a limo to get to work every day. The guides moving tour made me realize how real the spoils of war are…

I rushed over to church for Saturday Night mass with a couple others and digested what the tour guide had said. The mass went quick with the fast talking preacher. The church was about 4 times the size of Nativity and jammed packed full. I stood in the back and looked over the sea of people in awe. I swear the whole city was at mass.

After mass, we churchgoers grabbed a bite at a local restaurant.
I took the night easy and rested while the others hit up the pubs. I called Mom, Mark, and Jinette to catch up a bit. This brought a smile to my face, yet made me slightly homesick. I hung up on Jinette as the loud drunks trickled in to our 12 man room. Joey tried to give me a little more time by fighting them off, but after a while they stumbled in the room with their loud voices and beer breathe.

Sunday

Woke up today and checked my email before heading out the door to our journey home. Jinette left me a message that put a smile on my face and made me forget for a second that the drunks kept me up all night. After reading a selective number of emails I slammed the laptop shut and hurried to the bus.

We drove back to Galway, stopped at Tesco for groceries, dropped €50, and pushed on to the cottage. Joey made some noodles lathered in butter for supper. I caught up on my blog and reading.

Now I’m gonna make some calls and hit the hay.

Gnight

Sept 23rd

Woke up today and wrote 2 paragraphs for homework and then hobbled over to Senior Seminar class. We discussed a case study about killing a (likely soon to die) baby to donate its organs and to save others lives. It was an intense discussion with some heated debating. I felt charged after the debate and the energy stayed with me the rest of the day. After Senior Seminar I had Archeology class from 11:15 until 2:15. Class went fast and was pretty interesting. Our Prof is hilarious. She explained that people from Derry (her hometown) have a sense of humor. People from Derry and the North lived through dark times, so to deal with them they learned to laugh.

In class our Prof said something that helped me to understand a situation I came across in Tralee last Thursday night. While telling my dining story with the elites in Tralee I left a part out, so mom could sleep at night. Halfway through supper I used the restroom. While sitting in the stall, two men walked in and started to talk about crack very casually. My image of the innocent, devoutly Catholic Irish who were victims of the past was shattered in an instance as I relieved myself. The conversation surprised the crap out of me. I started to see that maybe Ireland was just like every other place in the world. I thought about how the green moss, Virgin Mary shrines, and crucifixes that dotted the landscape helped to conceal a very ugly place. I thought a drug deal was about to go down so I made sure to not make a sound. The one lad said, “How was the crack last night?” The other old man casually announced, “Tralee has the best crack in Ireland.” My imagination ran wild. I thought about how the rich old men in the dining room were probably wealthy mobsters or maybe just retired crack dealers. I heard the men walk out of the bathroom and slowly crept out trying to go unnoticed.

So, today in class our Prof asked how Tralee went this weekend. She said something about Tralee having the best crack. I woke from my coma of boredom and listened to what she was mumbling about in front of class. She said “Tralee has some of the best crack… It’s a real grand town—it’s lots of fun.” My jaw dropped in awe of how casual she spoke of her times with having fun with crack. I started to grasp how serious of a problem it must be in this country. I guess the quaint towns of Ireland aren’t meth ridden like back home, but crack infested instead.
My hand jolted up and I asked in a disgusted tone, “Crack– Is it a real problem in Tralee? She gave a roar of a laugh. Everyone looked at her like she was a crack head, because no one knew why she was laughing. She explained that in Tralee and other parts of Ireland people commonly greet others by saying, “How’s the craic?” (Spelled ‘craic’, but pronounced crack) She explained it means, “How are you doing?” or “Anything fun/exciting happening?” We all laughed and I shared my story about the supposed crack dealers in the bathroom of the fancy dining room. Turns out they were innocently saying, “Did you have fun last night?” and the other man responded by saying, “Yes, Tralee is the one of most fun places in Ireland.” I’m happy to hear this, because now my image of Ireland and its perfection has been restored.

After class I checked the mail and got giddy with excitement when I saw a letter from Jinette. Once again, I blocked out the world around me and read her letter to myself smiling to the world, laughing out loud, and feeling loved. I rushed through the letter with excitement, but held on to each sentence putting it near to my heart, as I joyfully read through it. Emily was sitting in the room and noticed me glowing. She couldn't help but notice the energy pouring out of me and my facial expressions silently screaming with delight. Emily turned to me and said, “Wow, look at you, you must really like this girl…”

Off to reading about the innocent history of the clean, non crack addicted, Irish.

Sept 22

Woke up today, showered, shaved, ate a bowl of generic frosted flakes, grabbed a banana and booked it to class. Got back around noon and ate another bowl of cereal and a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich. While eating lunch I took notes with Joey on our reading for theology. By 2 I was back to class.

I sat there and organized all my pictures from the weekend while she got organized for the first 45mins. Then she had us present on the 7 pages our group of six people read. Luckily, Joey and I skimmed the pages 20mins before class and scribbled down the notes. I was selected out of the group to present on the notes taken. Some believe this is because of my amazingly good looks, while others speculate that I was selected because no one else could read my chicken scratch. We will never know.

I read off the sheet of paper, looked up ever once and a 2mins and poetically spewed words of eloquence during my 5 min speech. Some people got me confused with G Dubs for a second, but then remembered it was me.

Class moved at snail speed. After 3 hours of fluff and filler class was dismissed. We all slowly moved to our cottages. I grabbed €0.40, pushed it into the pay phone, and dialed the butcher’s number. Sean’s assistant answered and notified me he’d be here in an hour. The jolly short meat loving Irish man pulled up in his freezer truck and handed me 22lbs of ground beef and 32 chicken fillets about an hour later. I delivered the meat to each cottage and they delivered me a smile and thanks. I finished my first international business deal. I made about €4 in tips, some friends, and a grand impression with the prof and his wife. (No, Jinette I'm not trying to pick up the Profs wife so don't worry about it.)

We all pitched in and made fried chicken with carbonara sauce and noodles. Our sides were fried potatoes, buttered bread, and apples. We said grace and munched down on our food. T’was a hell of a meal.

After supper we wrote down a list of bad words and bad behaviors coupled with punishments. We figured it work help to us upkeep our manly physiques.

F Bomb – 10 push ups
Lords name in vain – 25 push ups
Using gay/fag – 15 push ups
Leaving lights on – 15 push ups
Leaving door open – 5 push ups
*push-ups may be substituted with 2x sit ups

Jinette, if I get back and am jacked or fat you know why…

After this I hit the books for a couple hours. I called Jinette for a study break and she definately put a spring in my step.

I left Skype on, but forgot about it as I was reading and taking notes. Mark unexpectedly, but pleasantly gave me a jingle. I appreciated it and got some good laughs out with him and Jimmy.

Gnight

Sept 21

Woke up today and looked forward to a day of adventure. I skipped the shower, packed my bags for our trek home, and barely caught the tail end of breakfast.

We packed the bus and headed to the Tralee Museum. This was interesting and once again reminded me of dad. I rushed through the town simulation part and walked out to see the gardens in the park out front.


The roses outside the park looked lush and healthy. I looked at them in disgust and envied their ability to maintain them. I tried all summer at Cretin and never got a rose to look that nice.

Ros Muc Castle was our next destination. I just realized this is the same place our ancestors are from and Dad’s not gonna be excited to hear I didn’t put that together until after we left the area. (Oops) The guide walked us through the wonderfully restored castle and told us about the building techniques, defense mechanisms, and people of the time. She ended the informative tour by saying, “In the 1970s, a group of 5 American businessmen bought this place to turn it into a money-making commercialized theme park.” We all looked down in shame and wished we hadn’t told her we were Americans at the beginign of the tour. Then she smiled and said one of the great Americans bought the other 4 out, restored the castle to its fullest potential, and donated it back to the people of Ireland under the condition it never be used for commercial use. We all looked up, patted ourselves on the back, and marched out of the place with a little pride and maybe a hint of arrogance.

We drove the rest of the day to getting to Galway around 7 to buy some groceries for the week. We went to Aldi’s super store and spent €26 on a week’s worth of food for 5 guys. (CHEAP!) By 9 we were home at our cottage. I talked to Jinette and my parents and hit they hay around 1a.m. While talking to them all I felt homesick, but while laying down to sleep I felt much better.

Sept 20

Woke up today and once again fought the force of 11 other men to get a quick hot shower. This morning some of the other guys wanted a shower, because I talked it up too much the morning before. That was dumb of me. I showered last today. The hot water teased my body for a second and then turned cold bringing back memories of our cottage.

We toured the Dingle Peninsula today. This is the most western point of Europe only a hop, skip, and jump away from the U.S. of A.

We stopped at some Bee Hive Huts that monks lived in ages ago, a beach, and some other small quaint towns along the way.

A picture of the Bee Hive Huts the Monks lived in while secluding themselves from the outside world to live pure lives--sounds like the students at SJU...

Around 6 we got back to our hostel for a night of adventure. We rushed to the Hill Billy Deluxe Fried Chicken fast food joint for a quick bite before Saturday Night Mass at 7. About 10 of us decided to save some Euro, buy in bulk (like TRUE AMERICANs), and go in on 2 family packs. The 16 pieces of chicken, 20 wings, gravy, 12 pops, and 12 fries all for under €5 a person turned out to be enough. We were, however, lacking in the napkin department. Turns out they didn’t have cloth napkins like I was used to from the high class dining on Thursday. We couldn’t finish our food because we felt the grease filling our arteries to dangerous levels.

This depicts the greasy chicken bones left after I consumed the fatty meat around it. If you look closely you can see the waxed paper container turned clear and the wood table can be seen through it. Sick.

We all walked out of the place slowly with our hands on our stomachs, sad looks on our faces, and a feeling of gut rot. I got to mass and felt like death covered in grease with a scruffy red beard, and dirty clothes. I felt bad for the people around me. Luckily, the fast-talking priest kept me entertained and made me forget about the grease factory we ate at before mass. Once again the parishioners bum rushed the ministers for the Eucharist and outpaced me in prayer.

After mass the whole group reunited and went to a play called Tearmann at the Tralee Theater. I’m not one for plays and throughout the show felt my eyes getting heavy. I shut them for a wee bit, but quickly opened them wide to ensure I didn’t start to snore or need to be woken up during intermission. The play had great music and some amazing tap dancing. A little boy who acted one of the main characters out tapped everyone else. It was impressive. The plot was lacking, but hell what do I know, I fell asleep during the parts without dancing.

Sept 19th

Woke up today to the smell of sweat, booze and 11 other men who hadn’t showered for some time now. It brought me back to the good old days of Tommy Hall, SJU. Tommy was a little different because the smell of protein mix and trashy women also polluted the air around you. I forfeited my breakfast for a chance to win a hot shower. The other 11 guys grabbed a bite of cereal and I hopped in the shower.

I snuck in and hobbled over the piss sprayed floor that had been murdered by the guys the night before who drank a wee bit too much Guinness. The high pressured water gushed out of the shower head. I turned the knob to red hot and cringed with happiness as the piping hot water scalded my backside. The steam filled the room, fogged the mirror, and rose up my nose clearing out my sinus cavity and breathing new life into me. I washed off and cleaned up. Meanwhile the guys had gotten back from breakfast and almost broke the bathroom door down to brush their teeth. I high tailed it out of the hot boxed steam filled shower, jumped the piss puddle, grabbed my towel to dry off and saw the day.

We started our tour around the Ring O Kerry. We buckled our seat belts and zigzagged down the road through an almost rainforest looking environment. By the way, since when is a ring zigzagged? And don’t look at your map, because it shows a nice smooth loop around Kerry. I thought of how Jesse Ventura, the Body, questioned if the streets of Saint Paul were designed by drunken Irishmen. I’m going to let The Body know the maps of the streets for the Irishmen were definitely drawn by a drunken Irishman. It’s zigzagged and a tight fit for a bus to drive the roads, but I feel very safe with the great bus drivers so far. You feel like tossing your cookies after a while, but then you look outside at the moss covered green lush surroundings and stomach it.

This is me at a picturesque hillside pretending I'm the Lion King while the driver smokes a heater.

We drove to Muckross Estate and Mansion where Queen Elizabeth stayed for a three day visit that the family prepared for 6 years. At one time Arthur Guinness, the beer guy, owned the place as well. The mansion had 25 bedrooms, 22 indoor servants, and too many fireplaces to count.

This mansion puts Summit to shame... They look like doll houses compared to this mammoth mansion.

We tossed the disc in the front lawn for a while, took a group pic, and hit the bus to get back to our hostel.

I was feeling a wee bit homesick and definitely missing family and Jinette when I got to the hostel. So I grabbed some Euro, recruited a couple friends, and scoured the city for an internet café/calling center. I left a couple voicemails and shot Jinette and email. This made me feel much better.

Sept 18th

Today we visited the Cliffs of Mohr. It was a long day of driving and breaking for food, drink, and toilet. Woke up around 8 and was out the door by 9. At the cliffs I took the advice Kelli gave me about not getting too close to the drop off and threw it off the cliff. Along with that I threw my common sense off and lived of the edge, literally, for once in my life. The oceanic breeze, with the sun blazing down, and the moss covered cliffs made for an almost magical time.

This is me scared crapless and venturing passed the legal barrier. The 95-year-old woman ahead of me in a walker gave me the courage to push through and fight my fears…

This is me smiling, becuase the beautiful landscape around me doesn't allow for any other reaction than pure happiness.

After teetering on the edge of life at the cliffs, we stopped at Dungbare Castle for a quick look. More likely the bus driver stopped for a quick cig, but whatever. Soon after settled into our hostel in Tralee, County Kerry. Finnegan’s Hostel felt more like a Summit house as you walked with its grand staircase, finished wood trim, and hardwood floors. As I walked up the stairs into your 12 man room I remembered it was a hostel. It was dubbed the barracks by Nick, because the place was jam packed with bunks from floor the ceiling and wall to wall.

After filling the barracks to the brim with our junk we found the closest pub to raid for cheap food. I led the gang of us loud, ratty, unshaven Americans to Pikeman’s pub. The hostess asked for, “how many?” as I looked into the zoo of people filling the pub… I could only see the 5 of us guys packed it the doorway, but more of us were lined out the door. They all saw how packed the place was and moved on to the next place without my knowledge. I crumbled under pressure and was at a loss to how many of us there were, so I looked at her and said, “a lot?”… I told her we’d find another place, but she assured me the over flow room would work for us. She pointed to the door and directed us to the additional seating.

I opened the door and was met by an angry women yelping at me it was “€30 plus dining,” but her strong accent hindered my ability to comprehend her. Behind the angry woman were old rich men with sports jackets and trophy wives, and a group of old grannies with enough diamond encrusted rings around their fingers to fund the feeding of the 3rd World. Each table alone had enough glassware on it to fill mom’s china hutches twice over. The angry woman kept snapping at me about “€30 plus,” but my attention was fixed on the ritzy world around me. We all started to retreat when the men and their Cindy McCainesque trophy wives gave us a glare letting us know we were in the wrong place. Our scruffy beards, faded jeans, and ragged tennis shoes probably made them wonder if we were evening entertainment.

As we walked back to the pub the angry woman and the nice lady who directed us to the “over flow” started to argue in Irish tongue (or maybe just English that was too fast to comprehend) about where we could sit. The lady scolded the angry woman. Trying to hide her disgust, the angry woman looked at us with a forced fake smile, and said, “Right this way please.” There we sat among the elites.

Before the water spiked with a hint of lemon poured by our server hit my glass I clarified that we wanted to order off the bar menu—with bar prices.

I ordered greasy potato wedges, a turkey club, and a mound of ketchup for less than 10 Euro. I wiped my face smeared with ketchup and grease with my cloth napkin and sat back to enjoy the "30 Euro plus" service. We all enjoyed a deep conversation--well we actually had guy talk, another way of saying we talked like immature little boys. We stopped midway through the convo when we remembered we were in a classy establishment.

As we waited for the bill to arrive I thought about how trust fund babies and the sons of CEOs live like this daily. I thought about how spoiled they are, but suddenly I felt a pinched nerve in my neck. It was God reminding me that I'm the son of a CEO and that I do live a spoiled/lucky/privilaged life. I sit here and blog about my times in a foreign country while my parents work their arses off to listen to me whine about cold showers. So, thanks for giving me the opportunity to freeze my arse off in Ireland while you're working yours off at the office at home. I truly appreciate it. Thanks.

Tonight we went out for Schafer and Joey’s birthdays… The pub/club was packed with crazies. And lucky 20 year olds who could complain about the crazies --us.

Sept 17th

8 days here
9 day long red tinted beard grown
4 roommates
22lbs of ground beef ordered for Monday
2 letters from Jinette
4 classes, 3 hours long each
93 pages to read for history
0 history books bought
7 pages to read for Theo
1 Theo book borrowed
9 hours in the plane
2 hours on the ground in Dublin trapped in a heat box with dry air filling the cabin of the plane waiting to fly to Shannon
32 chicken fillets ordered
442 pictures taken
89 days left
1 girlfriend at home
0 girlfriends abroad
3 different pubs visited
2 cottagemates passed out in the living room last night with the lights on, butter out(?), and a video playing after a night on the town
1 angry Frenchman who publically yelled at my buddy and complimented me at the pub a couple nights ago
2 many Bulmers to count
1 concerned mother reading the last comment

I woke up today about half passed noon, opened my crusty eyes, and walked out of my bedroom into the living room. The bright light shining through the living room windows burned my eyes. I rubbed the crust off them and smelt lunch on stove. I gave a big yawn and regretted that I stayed up until 3a.m. the night before. Then I remembered that I had the opportunity to talk with Jinette and Dad so it was worth it. The mistake I made was blogging afterwards.

I browned hamburger, buttered bread, and cut some cheese. I threw it all together in a frying pan and created a grilled cheeseburger sandwich. I sprinkled salt, pepper, and garlic salt on it and poured myself a glass of milk. I lathered my sandwich with generic ketchup and gobbled it up.

After cleaning the dishes I packed everything up for history class and hit the water heater switch for a quick shower. My roommates and I cleaned out the cottage. By the time we were done the water heater had sucked up a Euro of juice from our coin operated generator. I washed off Navy Style and enjoyed the lukewarm shower.

The door knocked as I watched the clock tick waiting for class. It was a special delivery from the one and only Jinette. She wrote me a humorous heartwarming letter that put an extra spring in my step. I had a big old giddy grin plastered on my face for the next 2 hours.

We had a 3 hour class on the history of Ireland. Today we went over a small amount of information. We only took notes on 1000 years of history! I asked my professor about how to find information about ancestors during our 5 minute break. I need to know names, dates, and geographical locations. He told me to get that information and a pile of money and to throw it at a genealogist in Dublin and I’d get results. Or I could spend hours researching, pocket the money for some Bulmers, and head to the monastery/church in my ancestor’s towns to gather information. Or Dad you could call Dublin, pay a genealogist, email me the results, fly here, and drive us to the different monasteries. Maybe Dad you could even buy me a Bulmers at the pub on the way…

Class ended at half passed six. My roommate prepared some tater tot hot dish and we sat down an hour later to a fine meal of hot dish, tortellini, and bread. Joey and I did the dishes while our other cottagemates talked to their parents on Skype.

Sept 16th

Today was a busy day, but still not bad considering I am in school technically. I woke up today and let the shower water heater run for about 40 mins this morning. I figured I’d sneak one in without anyone noticing. In cottage one we call hot water liquid gold. So I guess I bathed in liquid gold this morning. I had a warm shower for the first time since leaving a week ago. Time flies by here in Ireland.

I had two classes today, Senior Seminar and the Anthropology of Ireland. Seminar is an interesting class. We listened to the prof go through the syllabus and lecture us on expectations for class. I always ask myself why they give us a syllabus then read it to us as if we are illiterate…? After getting that out of the way the professor posed a simple discussion question for the last 10mins of class. He asked, “What is morality and where does it come from?” Most people tackle that question over a lifespan, but we are so wise at Saint John’s that 10mins sufficed.

Anthropology seems to be interesting, but 3 hours is a long time to sit and listen to a middle aged Irish woman rattle off dates of historical periods. The good thing is that she wants to go on field trips almost every class period. She’s much more relaxed about everything than I’m used to…. For example, she looked outside and commented on how it was a nice day. Someone in the class asked if we could go outside and the next thing you know we were sitting in a circle taking in the cool breeze and a couple rays of sun learning about the primitive people of Ireland.

Class ended and I headed into Spiddal with my backpack and €65, which I collected for the meat at the Butcher shop. After talking to Sean’s assistant at Feeney’s Butcher I headed over to SuperMacs. I needed to experience the fast food of Ireland. I waltzed into the SuperMacs a couple doors down. Right away I could feel the greasy heat from the fryers hit my face and coat my forehead. I almost turned around at this point, but remembered this same experience at the fry stand at the state fair, so I decided to stick it out. I wiped the grease off my forehead with my sleeve, took a chance, and ordered a number 5 with a Coke. I waited behind the counter for about 5 mins awkwardly waiting for my food while the women who took my order shot me glares. Finally, she looked at me, rolled her eyes, and told me to sit down. She explained in an irritating tone that she’d deliver the food to my table. I waited in my seat and started to feel the grease cake on my face. I waited, then waited a little more, and then finally I waited more… After about 20 mins of me watching this woman fumble around at snail speed I started to question if “fast food” was the proper name, because it sure didn’t describe SuperMacs. Finally my food was done and she asked if I wanted BBQ sauce. I said yes, and by the time she bent down to pick it off the shelf below I was at the counter with the tray in hand. She was a little startled.

The Coke went down easy, the chicken nuggets tasted like grade school, and the fries “chips” unfortunately didn’t bring back memories of the state fair. I ate 3 fries and junked the rest. At this point, I felt like I’d been robbed of my €4.50 and figured I get my money back in pop. I asked for a (free) refill and she looked at me like I was speaking Chinese and said, “No, we don’t do that…” I marched out the door in disgust and gained respect for SuperMac’s cleaner, faster, cheaper, better tasting, glorious Irish nephew who emigrated to the U.S. – McDonalds, I’m Lovin It!

I walked to the Hues Pub and did some homework with a Bulmers in one hand and a pen in the other. The locals were at opposite ends of the bar and talking to each other. I tried to zone them out, but couldn’t help but to hear the F bombs in their Irish tongue followed by God bless you and thanks a million.

I walked back to my cottage listening to country music and watching the moon rise and the stars twinkle. Every time I’d get lost in the beauty of the sky a car would come roaring passed me at lightning speed and cause me to jump a foot off the ground in fright.

I got back, cooked some more grub, and called my dad to tell him all about my business deals. A bunch of drunks were screaming in the background yapping about some hot girls. I snapped at them and shooed them away. After talking with Dad I called Jinette, but the signal was horrible. Either that or her other boyfriend was calling on the other line trying to get through.

Off to bed I go, gnight…. And thanks a million for the comments, they’re grand lads... (that’s how the locals would've said that.)

Sept 15th

This morning my alarm buzzed annoyingly in my ear and I angrily smacked the snooze button for some extra shut eye. Suddenly I realized it was the first day of school and I jolted out of bed for a breakfast of champions. Not a bowl or Wheaties, but a piece of cheap (€0.89) processed toasted bread lathered in a creamy chocolate hazelnut blend known as Nutella. The Nutella on toast was coupled with a cup of milk with a bite. Milk’s not supposed to have a bite, but when the price is right who cares. I downed the milk and headed to an all-cottage meeting to go over our schedule for the next few weeks.

The meeting ended and everyone meandered back to their cottages to find something to do until class at 2:00. I hauled 30 mins into town on the most reliable form of transportation in the great country of Ireland. I walked… I first stopped by the Texaco Butcher and got a bulk rate price on the meat I wanted. I negotiated a great deal with Emon and joked around with him for a little while. Then I stopped by the Feeney Butcher and talked prices with the owner Sean. I talked him down a little more than Emon and settled on a price. I also got him to deliver the meat for free and package everything separately for each cottage. I walked out of the Butcher shop with my nose in the air, shoulders back, and an arrogant smirk plastered on my face. If you didn’t know better you’d have thought I went to UST. I took my confidence and tried my luck with every shop in town.

I talked with the woman at the produce store for some time. I walked in the tiny little shack and looked at all the fresh fruits and vegetables. It reminded me of a small farmers market. I mean it was a little bigger than Karen selling Sweet Corn out of her driveway, but it was no Walmart of produce. I innocently asked her if everything was produced locally. She shot me and awkward chuckle, not knowing if I seriously just asked if the bananas, oranges, and grapefruit in her shack of a store were grown locally. She looked confused and muttered to me, “Well the bananas and oranges aren’t grown here… I mean the soils too rocky…” She sarcastically reminded me that the climate is a little too cold as well. The confidence I had from the butcher suddenly left me. I quickly looked around the tiny shack and eyed a sack of potatoes. I pointed to them, and with the little pride I had left said, “Well what about those?” In a serious and frustrated voice she explained that the EU makes them certify all their fruits and vegetables. For this reason, the local farmers can’t turn much of a profit with the added regulation on top of the poor growing conditions. To get around this the farmers sell their crop under the table to their neighbors and everyone wins. She explained how everyone wins, except her. She gets cut out and is left with a lot of astronomically high priced produce from foreign lands that no one wants to buy. I didn’t know what to say… I wanted to tell her to look into the Republican Party, but that really isn’t a solution across the pond. Then I wanted to ask for a local farmer’s contact information. Instead I asked her about a discount rate if I bought in bulk. She smiled and told me to make a list to see if I could make it worth it to her.

I walked home with my price list, created a bill for each cottage, then verified prices with everyone and collected money… My prof’s wife jumped for joy when I told her I could get 4 chicken fillets for less than 5 Euros. She told me they paid almost twice as much the week before at the super store. I thought this was a humorous statement, because she was the one who handed out newspaper articles to us before we went into town about how evil super stores were destroying mom and pop stores. That’s about how it goes…

Sample Bill

Cottage 6: PAID

5 lbs. Ground Beef:
- Normal Rate: Greater than €7.5
- Bulk Rate: €7.5
- My Rate: €6.8

6 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breast Fillets:
- Normal Rate: €9
- Bulk Rate: €7.5
- My Rate: €6.54

Total Savings: Greater than €3.16

Price: €13.34

I went to both butchers here in town and compared prices. I negotiated the best price with Feeney Butchers. He showed me his normal rate, then his posted bulk rate, and then took more off and offered to include delivery and to package everything individually for each cottage.
The meat will be delivered Monday evening. The delivery will save you time, Euros for a taxi, and ensure it remains chilled. It will be already separately packaged for each cottage, so I won’t get my filthy hands in any of your fresh meat from the butcher.
If this goes smoothly and it works out for everyone I’ll do it weekly. Also, I talked to a woman at the produce shop in Spiddal and she was interested in giving us a bulk rate as well, if we buy enough. Same goes for deli ham at one of the grocery stores in town. Let me know if this is of interest to anyone.

Cottage wide savings: €16.2

Thanks,
Ryan


The first day of class went fine. Professor Mary Clancy seems easy. She likes to talk a lot about nothing. I got to class and forgot if it was my theo or history class. I listened for hints to which class I was sitting in and could figure it out for a good 45mins. It turns out it was theo...

Me smiling and ready to get out the door and to class for the first day!

Sept 14th

My alarm buzzed at 8 o'clock, but I hit the snooze and quickly faded away. Around 8:45 I woke up to the sound of rain pounding down on my ear drums. The rain violently crashed down on our sun porch glass roof and a cold draft moved through the cottage. The sun porch hasn’t seen the sun in some time now. It was the wettest August for Ireland on record in the last 173 years. I bounced out of bed remembering that it was my turn to flip the electric water heater on for the shower. I flipped the switch and laid down to rest my eyes. Ten minutes later a roommate woke me up concerned about the bathing situation. I informed him the heater was on and that I’d jump in to clean up for church in a couple minutes. I showered Navy Style once again and began to shiver when the "heated" water sent a chill down my spine. I brushed my teeth, grabbed a banana for on the go and hit the bus. Not surprisingly the bus came 15 minutes late leaving me and all the other church goers cold and soaked.

I had been shivering since I hopped out of the shower and that didn’t stop when I got into church. The Galway Cathedral was a mammoth cold and damp feeling grey stone church. Fr. O’Flaherty gave the mass to an all-White middle class parish. Usually when I go to a different church and I feel like I stick out, but the group of us blended in amazingly well. It was a more traditional mass, none of this interpretive dance junk like at St. Luke's a couple months back.

The priest seemed like any old priest back home, but he sounded like a tape player with the fast forward button jammed. The words roared out of his mouth at turbo speed. At Nativity I find myself speeding ahead of everyone while saying the prayers. In Galway, I spit out the Creed as fast as I could and found myself lagging behind. I was consistently outpaced and off beat with the rest of the parish.

During communion everyone scattered and scurried around in the front of the church. There was no rhyme or reason to receiving Communion. Everyone all at once rushed to the front and knelt down at the communion rail with their hands or tongue out and took Communion.
I grabbed a bulletin before heading out of mass. It has become habit for me to grab one for my mom. Turns out she never read them anyways, but just wanted to ensure I went to church and not to breakfast. I picked one up for you this Sunday so you could read it mom and prove to you I went to mass. Or at least you know that $32,000 of tuition later I am smart enough to know how to pick one up in the back of church and then go to breakfast.



We hit up the bookstore for a class text, but it was sold out. Then we trotted over to the grocery store to stock up on milk, butter, cheese, mixed vegetables, dish soap, and fruit. Then we boarded the bus and headed back to the cottage for some down time.

Tonight at supper we all ate some 2.50 Euro stir fry. My taste buds knew it was only 2.50 Euro after the cheap rice and rubbery pork put them into shock. I consulted the receipt after my body informed me of the gross flavor and clarified its 2.50 Euro quality. (Note to self: 2.50 Euro quality food divided by 5 people = cheap and sick grub.)

James had another shining moment today at the supper table. We all called him out on a small fib about the power outlets in the sunless sun porch. He admitted that he plugged a power strip into the one socket and it made a POP(!) sound, so he moved on to the next outlet. Strangely enough the next outlet he targeted went POP too and he fried that one too. At this point he admitted to seeing a pattern, but needed to make sure it was the power strip frying our outlets and not some sort of spontaneous combustion deal going on or divine intervention. Jame's next victim was the outlet to our TV. HE HEARD A POP AGAIN AND KNEW THAT IT WAS THE POWER STRIP! We all laughed, but deep down knew that the next POP would be followed by another POP to his face to knock some sense into him.


A side note... the other day I was in Galway and heard a familiar tune coming from the streets while I was shopping. I heard an Irish version of Bob Dylan from a street performer. I threw the guy a Euro, chatted with him about the Minnesota legend, and recorded his performance for my friend Bob Galligan. He told me his old girlfriend lived in Saint Paul. He said near Ramsey. I thought he meant Ramsey High School and told him I live a block away. Then I slapped my head and said "duh" to myself when he said County Ramsey is gorgeous.

So here's some Dylan for everyone:



Readers - please comment on my blog so I know if this is worth writing...

Sept 13th

Today I woke up to a bowl of Cherrios, cashed the rest of our milk supplies, and packed my bag for a day of adventure. We bussed to a small town called Cong. All the of us students filed off the bus and went to the left to raid the bars for some hot coffee. I started to go with the mob, then slapped myself and remembered that I was a seasoned traveler. So, I fought the mob and went against the grain. I had a small following and made my way to the public bathroom. The rushed over to the toilet and did my duty. The toilet had been spoiled by its previous occupier, but this didn’t faze me after using the wholes of the Middle East to relieve myself this May. I exited the stall with a welcome from Chuck, my Prof, and worried that he might be a little more concerned about the condition of the bathroom and my sanity. I left the public bathroom in a tizzy and marched up the stairs of the Abbey Church with a graveyard encompassing it. The tombstones were sprayed with vibrant green moss and felt of a sandpaper-like eroded texture.

This is a picture of the graveyard and ruins of the Cong Abbey.



Feeling parched, I stopped in a butcher shop to see if I could find a cheaper drink than at the tourist trap shops. They had a liter of OJ for cheap. I picked it up and the middle aged jolly looking man behind the meat counter warned me that the juice had bubbles. I picked up water instead and in an Irish tone he informed me that I wanted the blue capped water, because I picked out the only sparkling water on the shelf. I thanked him, pulled out my Euros, and told him that something smelt great. He smirked and told me, “I’m roasting some pig butt downstairs…” I awkwardly gave him a fake laugh, wondering if he was trying to be funny or literally was roasting pig butt. He continued, “Bacon and cabbage is a grand meal …” I walked out feeling like an imbecile.

The next stop for the group was Westport village. Once again I stepped off the coach bus and left the mob. Nick, Emily, and I grabbed a bite at a fair trade hippy sandwich shop. I asked the lady at the till how to order and she told me in a sarcastic Irish voice to look at the menu and tell me what you want to eat.

After eating we headed toward the tourist info center. They directed us to the Heritage Center, which was according to them a 20 min walk from us. We whizzed through the Church on our way for a quick Hail Mary and started on our 20 min trek. Thirty mins later we were still a good 5 mins out according to our map. I started to see a pattern. Not only are the Irish sarcastic, but they tend to exaggerate. (Wonder where Caroline, Mark, and I get it?) We got to the river, took some pictures and booked it back to the bus.



Picture on our way to the Heritage Center...

A small fishing boat parked on the river...

Our next stop was Croagh Patrick, the mountain which Saint Patrick fasted for 40 days and 40 nights. Before arriving, we passed through a couple more quaint towns and watched the cow pastures turn to hills and mountains peppered with sheep. The bus driver informed us in an English accent that. “This is where Saint Patrick drove all the snakes out of Ireland…so we don’t have snakes—well that’s not true, we have lots of bloody snakes, they take our tax money and live in Dublin.” We all laughed and walked up the mountain part ways to see a monument of Saint Patrick with the back drop of green covered mountains and trickling streams. I said a quick prayer and rushed back to the bus.

This is a picture of me dipping my hand in holy water at the statue of Saint Patrick on the Croagh Patrick Mountain.

Before you knew it we were back to Spiddal for some Spaghetti. Following supper, I went to each cottage to organize buying meat from the butcher shop in bulk. I figured we could save a couple Euros, drink a bit more Bulmer’s, and take a few more hot showers if we can get a discount on our meat. I’ll get to the butcher in the next couple days, give him our order, get prices, and report back to everyone to see if they’ll accept. I’ll collect the money and order the meat.

Cottage 1
4lbs. Ground Beef
5 boneless skinless Chicken Breasts

Cottage 2
4lbs. Ground Beef
5 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts

Cottage 3
4 lbs. Ground Beef
Price Check the Bacon

Cottage 4
2 lbs. Ground Beef
6 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts

Cottage 5
3 lbs Ground Beef
6 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts

Cottage 6
5 lbs. Ground Beef
6 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts
Cottage 7 (Chuck and his wife’s cottage)
4 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts

GRAND TOTAL INDEED:
- 22 lbs. Ground Beef
- 32 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts
- Possibly Some Bacon

The part I didn’t think about was how I’m gonna get all this back to our cottages. I can pay the taxi guy 1 Euro to take me into town and 1 Euro to get back to the cottages. So, I need to factor in that expense and the headache this may give me trying to figure out everything. I am considering a service charge. What do you think?

A) I should collect a fee and buy Jinette a gift (Jinette is my very attractive girlfriend)
B) Pocket the money and put it toward my education
C) Buy the guys complementary showers and Bulmer’s for the semester
D) Donate my time and services for the good of the community

Sept 12th

Woke up today and ate a bowl of Cherrios while looking at the grey sky and wondering if the sun ever shines here. We walked down to the highway and waited for the bus to drive us to the Aran Islands, which never came. Turns out it was full, so we got bypassed. Chuck, our Prof, called the company and had another come our way. The bus roared down the road and picked us up. A bunch of guys noticed that the driver was the guy at the pub the night before playing Texas Hold ‘Em and tipping a few back. He told us in a giddy Irish voice that it’d been a late night and he got up when Chuck called for another bus. It was his day off, but they needed more drivers. The funny thing was he didn’t have to tell us it was a long night; the way he whipped around those turns I knew it was going to be a long morning.

We hopped on a ferry and 30 mins later docked at the most quaint village on Earth. When I was younger, Caroline, Kelli, Sara, Mark and I used to think that when the sun shone through the clouds the gates to Heaven were opening up. Turns out we were right. Today on the Aran Islands the sun shined all day! We all decided to take the bike tour of the place.



After biking 3 miles the wrong way to a dead end (the path went in a loop on the map) we realized that maybe the first fork in the road was where we went wrong. We went on our merry way and saw the most striking farm houses with stone walls bordering them and cows, goats, sheep, and horses grazing the rocky grasslands. Every so often, a statue of Mary, Crucifix of Jesus, or Celtic cross would dot the landscape. Graveyards were littered with raised stone carved into Celtic crosses.

Cows.

A picturesque graveyard just outside of town.

Everywhere you look is postcard quality landscape waiting to be shot with your camera.

Right here I am pondering how long it is gonna be until they take the picture, because Kelli told me about how people actually get blown off the cliffs to their death!

With all this gorgeous scenery, something had to go sour. The pedal on my bike jammed. I went from the leader of the pack steering with one hand and snapping pictures with the other to the slow poke. The bike service truck drove up, stopped and asked if something was wrong. I wanted to look at him and say, “No, I just like biking like a crazy tripping over my own pedal.” His truck bed had an extra bike in it. I told him my pedal was locked in place and made it very cumbersome to pedal. He looked at it, gave a loud Irish chuckle, and told me the bike shop is down the path 3 miles. I laughed a good old angry German laugh and got back to my hard work and biked the whole Island with a busted bike!

A small group of us returned our bikes after (an estimated) 15 mile bike ride. I asked the guy at the shop where we could grab a bite. He told us to go to the pub across the street. I muttered to him, “Well, I want something cheap and authentic, where locals eat.” He directed us to the “American Bar”. The group laughed. He laughed and looked at us and said, “No really, the locals all hang out at the American Bar, because for some reason all you American Lads are scared of yourselves.” We all laughed a little louder. He went on, “You lads see the word American and get all ashamed. So it’s a grand way to keep all the tourists away.” We all walked into the bar to hear Gaelic words filling the air coupled with the aroma of fried potatoes and burgers. I ordered the “American Bar Burger.” The burger was a quarter pounder patty with cheese, lettuce and bacon topped with their signature sauce and a fried egg. So, I went to Ireland and ate at the American Bar to hang out with the locals and have my first burger with a fried egg on it. After this we boarded the ferry and got home for some fine cottage dining.

The American Bar where the Irish hang out...

Tonight at supper we said grace as a cottage and dug into our tacos, fried potatoes, and buttered bread. James, the fellow with the foot in our dishes, followed the prayer with a complaint. He said he did the dishes we used from breakfast. I looked at my other roommate and started to smirk. Then James said he tried out the sink plug from our bathroom for the kitchen to do our dishes. Unfortunately, the sink plug was too small, so he used the slimy tub drain plug for our dishes! I somehow stomached my first bite of taco, and then burst out into tears of laughter.



This is our slimy tub or as I have come to know as our kitchen table.


James, not surprisingly, was not selected to do the dishes tonight.

My night has ended great. I took a water heated shower. It was the second coldest shower in my life. I feel clean for the first time in Ireland!



Tomorrow I need to get up at 8 o’clock for another adventure, so I better get to bed, gnight.

Sept 11th

Today I woke up and almost threw up twice. No—I didn’t drink too much Bulmer’s Hard Cider last night at the pub, but after this morning I might have to more than I previously thought. I woke up and wanted to start the day off with the triple S… (sh@!, shower, and shave). Because of the high cost of electricity we can only use the showers simultaneously one after the next. Well, I got up earlier than everyone else so I was not able to use the heated water. I hopped in the shower and turned it to “hot”. My hand literally turned purple when I put it under the “hot” water. I began to shiver and felt a strong bond with Grandpa Lais, who was in the Navy. He told me about how they would get wet, turn off the water, then lather up, and turn on the water to rinse off and get out and on your way. Well, here in Ireland we shower Navy style, but not to save water, just to save our freezing rears from frost bite. This solidified my decision to buzz my head and not shave my beard after showering and shaving my neck. The ice water has pushed me to the razor.

I got out of the shower and noticed that the mirror was cloudy. I couldn’t comprehend how ice cold water produced steam. Then I laughed and cried to myself a little and became one with my car in the winter time. I understood more than ever why my window fogs up in January. Here in Ireland I am learning more than I ever imagined… And to think class has not even started.

The next reason why I almost threw up explains to me why men and women naturally get married and live together. It’s because if men lived together for the rest of their days they wouldn’t survive. I hopped out of the ice shower and saw my cottage mate soaking his slimy feet in our serving dish and some electric heated hot water. I was excited for him that he could enjoy the wonders of heat and applauded his innovation. I looked at the grime in the top of the bowl and noticed the layer of yellow sweat. It looked much like when oil settles at the top of water. Then the unthinkable happened. He went to “wash” our serving bowl, which we ate spaghetti in last night. He merely rinsed the sweat drenched bowl in some ice cold water and put it on the drying rack! YUCK! I then remembered that he kindly finished some of the dishes last night after Joe and I cleaned the majority. I know now that I’ll be volunteering to do the dishes quite a bit. Or the Super Macs (AKA McDonalds of Ireland) looks better and better each day. His cleaning move brought back so many memories of Blimpie’s Subs and Soup. Some of the guys are going for a run, so this is my chance to reclean the dishes. I am such a rebel. I may be looking into marriage sooner than I thought, because living with a bunch of guys isn’t all it’s cracked up to be…

I just went on one of the most beautiful hikes of my life. The clouds blew past allowing the sun to sparkle against the golden brown water and green moss covered rocks. I, like always, fell in a small crick that emptied into the bay while I was tip toeing across the slippery rocks. (The picture of me falling will be added once it is emailed to me.)

This is the crick that I took a dip in… I am considering bathing in it, because it is much warmer to the touch than our showers. I might actually eat off of it too, because its way less slimy than our serving dishes too. The beauty of this country is unbelievable. Dad would love taking pictures here. And mom would love to scream at dad and me for taking pictures of landscape and not the people. But the thing is the people ruin the pictures…



Along the shore line are tide pools with glimmering waters, rock with waves violently crashing into them, and flowing cricks feeding the bay’s angry tide. As you look inland there are cow pastures with rolling rocky grasslands bordered by walls of rock.

Cows staring me down!

Me staring some cows down!

After coming back from our hike, Chuck our professor came by with our allowance money for heat this week. He took a look at our meter and said, “Wow! You guys haven’t used much power; have you only put Euros in once more?” We told him, “Nope we’re still running off the 2 Euros you put in a couple days ago.” He told us we still get the allowance money, so maybe we can put it in a jar and have enough to buy some better food.

We headed into Spiddal and bought groceries today. We bought 4lbs. of ground beef (on sale for 6 Euro!), enough pasta to feed Italy, and an array of other foods. Kevin made some tatortot hot dish tonight, but had to substitute fries for the tots. This was much more successful than the spaghetti shenanigans the night before. I browned more beef for tacos tomorrow and not surprisingly volunteered for dish duty tonight.

Off to sleep I go, because I am heading to the Aran Islands tomorrow for some biking.
On a serious note, I am thinking of the victims of September 11th and all the business people, firefighters, police officers, and medical workers affected by the tragic event.
Also, Jinette’s mom became a U.S. citizen recently. Because of the time change, I’m not sure if she did on the 10th or 11th, but either way, congratulations.

Sept 10th

Today we went into Galway. We missed the first bus and sat by the highway for about an hour waiting for the next one. After getting into Galway we all split up and ate lunch. My group ate at a place called the Skeffington Restaurant. The guy at the deli asked if I wanted veggies with my beef. I said sure. I had some good roast beef, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, and more fried potatoes, and other potatoes covered in other potatoes with some gravy. I actually got roast beef with my potatoes, not potatoes with my roast beef. My potatoes with a side of beef were very good, but it cost almost 10 euro! This was only a self service deli and only water to drink. I walked through the clothes store and looked and looked for the menswear, but couldn’t find it. Finally, I found the sign, and some cute pink tank tops “for men” (?)Then we split up again into an even smaller group and checked out the post office. It was 0.82 Euro to send postcards to the States. Our next stop was the bus station. I figured we sure do the homework for the rest of the group and figure it out, because no one else would… The bus is 5.20 euro one way and 8.40 round trip. Luckily, the city bus added 2 new services into Galway after 9:30p.m., because that used to be the last one as of recently I was told. It was 20 euro for 4 people to get to Galway by taxi from our cottages, so this would actually be better for us most the time.

Next, I checked out the museum in Galway and learned all about Jameson Irish Whiskey. I also learned how much the Irish are obsessed with JFK. Makes sense – the Irish like booze and Irish Catholic politicians… Also, at the museum you can use the restroom for free, unlike everywhere else, so I may be reading up on JFK more than I had previously thought.

After that we went to Dunnes grocery store and fumbled around (not stumble around, but after the grocery store I wouldn’t mind a lil stumbling). It was a challenge to buy food and not spend too much money. We needed the basic community items, but didn’t get many. I’ll be living on rice, pasta, canned fruits, canned vegetables and ground beef this semester I’m guess. And whiskey, (or Irish water) its cheaper than American water. I figure my mom also told me to spend wisely. (Just kidding mom.)

On the bus ride back to Spiddal, I sat next to a bunch of Irish guys and they kindly offered to played some music for the whole bus— whether you kindly rejected or not. I first heard some traditional Irish music, but then it took a turn for the worst when someone asked if they had any American music. The professor, his wife, and the rest of us were blessed with some loud and vulgar DMX, Xibit, Eminem, Kid Rock and Fitty Cent. Hearing the f bomb and seeing Chuck, our Prof, was quite an experience, it had the whole bus rolling with laughter.

We made spaghetti tonight. As 5 clueless men, we somehow under cook a fourth of the noodles, burned a fourth to the bottom of the pan, and half were great (or as they say here, “grand”).
After supper we had an all cottage meeting followed by a visit to the pub in the hotel. J.P. served us until about midnight. I tried the Bulmer’s Hard Cider, because Kelli suggested it. And she was right, it’s “grand indeed!”

Quote of day: “Is the sink cold water as cold as the shower?” A causal reply, “No, I think it’s a little colder.” (The sink water is so cold your hands almost get frost bite just looking at it!)

Sept 9th

In the middle of the night on my flight from Chicago to Dublin Emily looked at me and squirmed, “I got a pill stuck in my throat, I don’t know what to do?” She exclaimed to me that she’d been to the back of the plane and the plane attendant was sleeping! I instantly thought of burning a hole in my esophagus and woke the guy up in the back sleeping. I told him, “I need some water, my wife (?) has a pill stuck in her throat.” He pointed me to the front of the plane. I ran down the aisle and yelled at the flight attendants to get me water and stat. They gave me a water, with a cover and I ran back down the aisle. I tripped over an old guy who had his legs stretched out. I lunged forward and the old man caught me, preventing me from landing on my face. I was caught, but the water’s cover flew off and half the water spilled all over a middle aged woman who was sleeping before the old man. She woke up to water hitting her face and my body getting flung at her. Thank goodness she didn’t scream. Instead, I screamed sorry to her as the old man screamed the same to me. Then I caught my balance, did more or less a hit and run, (with a quick word of sorry), and got the half empty water to Emily. She safely got the pill down and all is well.

We took the bus to Spiddal from Shannon. I thankfully slept most of the 2 hour ride away. Unfortunately, the bus driver jammed the heat on full bore and by halfway through, me and everybody else had to strip down on the bus to prevent from melting away. The darn thing didn’t have windows to crack open even.

Ireland is full of rain, clouds, wind, and expensive stuff. The heating, gas, electric, hot water, and laundry are all coin operated. We need to ration everything. Only enough water to take 2 showers a day, but there are 5 of us! So it’ll be interesting. It’s 3 euro to wash, and 3 Euro to dry your clothes here. I will be a smelly guy this semester, but Jinette isn’t here so no worries. Food is outrageously priced… The owner told us food prices have gone up 40% since last year this time! So, Ellen give me some pity! It has been raining all day here with clouds and some nasty winds. Me and two other guys I’ll be living with took a gust storm of a walk into town (25 mins away) today and scoped out all the grocery stores, butcher, church, and pubs. On the way we saw some ponies. In Spiddal we figured out the cheapest place to by certain products… and started to plot different meals out for the coming days, burgers, tacos, soup, grill cheese, and lots of cereal.

Before heading into Spiddal I got a hold of Jinette on Skype for a second. That was really exciting. I cut her off real short, but at least I got to chat. (Anyone reading this should get a microphone and Skype.)

It’s about 9:15 Ireland time and I still have not slept, so I’m gonna hit the hay. Luckily, I won a game of rock paper scissors and received the single bedroom… No need to worry about drunks and loud roommates!

Tomorrow we head into Galway to tour the city for the first time. I better get to bed and get good night’s sleep. I keep nodding off while writing this… I should be good compared to the rest of everyone else... they are all hitting up the bar for a late night…

Sept 8th

Today was pretty stressful. I tend to get on edge and frustrated easily when I’m getting ready to travel. I wasn’t as worried or as scared as I was about my Holy Land, because at least I hadn’t been getting off 2 weeks of fevers and the endless search for what had happened. I guess, UBS drove me nuts by messing up my credit card multiple times tried to fill the void. It partially did fill the void. The burning feeling could not have been filled that simply though. Instead, my friend Emily had a little excitement with pills to fill the void completely. Getting on my transfer in Chicago was real easy. I guided a group of us to the red line shuttle and to the international terminal. I could really tell how much better of a traveler I had become since the holy land trip.