Tales from the Niland Kitchen Table

I have one more paper to write, and as usual, I'm dragging over it. I checked out 'one day loan' books from the library, though, which means it'll need to be finished by tonight unless I want to pay a fine, so therefore miserly nature will hopefully win out over the procrastinator part.  But now before I get to that, I'm long overdue on writing about the last wonderful days in Vienna. I originally wanted to write this from the airport and call it 'Tales from the Vienna Airport' as a play on the famous Strauss song, but didn't, so here you are now, with my belated report arriving from the mundane but comforting center of my life in Galway.

On Monday morning, as a substitute for a far flung Austrian day trip or excursion to one of the neighboring countries, Alexa and I trekked out into the Viennese countryside after being inspired by a photo that had popped up on my Facebook feed a few days previously, courtesy of the very arbitrarily decided Places to See Before You Die. Called Burg Kruzenstein, the photo lured us in with the promise of a fairytale castle, complete with sweeping turrets, thick stone walls and a drawbridge, all situated neatly atop a mountain just a half hour away from our home base for the week.

Just as beautiful as the photograph prepared us, the castle was located in a little suburb town we reached by train, but then had to hike about half an hour to properly reach. The one catch to it's fantasy architectural structure was just that: it's literally a fantasy castle, reconstructed by someone very wealthy after the original was destroyed by age and warfare. Taking influences from fortresses around the world, it's been used as numerous movie settings, the one they're most proud of now is Nicolas Cage's Season of the Witch. I've never seen it, and heard its kinda laughably bad, but will probably now look into locating a copy to bask in happy Kruzenstein memories.

Because it was really cool, albeit kind of fake. I meandered around pretending I was in Winterfell, got yelled at by our Austrian guide we nicknamed Igor who had an evil twin working in the shady half-open bar next to the castle, and really just enjoyed being in a full castle and taking in the experience, which was quite different than the crumbling ruins of old Irish edifices. My favorite find of the day was also fitting with the fantasy element of the place. I found it in the hunting trophies room, which was all constructed as it would have been in real life, although like in the armory, none of the actual old artifacts were in anyway protected with glass- there were a lot of stuffed dead things the guy who bought the place keeps around for company or something. Anyway, on the mantle right above the door we exited through was a unicorn. Or...a sheep with a disproportionately enormous narwhal horn mounted on the front of it's head. I wished SO badly I could have taken a picture, but I did attempt to draw it for my friend yesterday to explain, so enjoy that accurate pictorial representation.

Another fantasy sort of experience we had but couldn't photograph was on the last day in Vienna, when we went to a morning practice of the famed Spanish Riding School, fancy white horses who do tricks and 'dance' to music. Tickets to the actual show go for hundreds of euro and sell out months in advance, but the daily training session was also pretty cool. While most of their horses still seemed to be in the beginning levels of training, they were beautiful and already doing difficult walks and maneuvers I've never seen any animal do before in real life.

During that last day, we also finally indulged in the ubiquitous Viennese coffee in an outside cafe. I sipped on a Wiener Melange and nibbled on Apfelstrudel (Apple Strudel!) while Alexa had a fizzy fruit drink and sachertorte, which I also tried and is now my top favorite dessert. (Did I mention we had ice cream almost daily?) We stretched the afternoon coffee experience well over two hours, followed by people watching in the shadow of St. Stephen's Cathedral, which became a major beloved landmark of the week.

Sitting in front of the cathedral with our ice creams is probably one of the major memories I'm going to take back from this spring break trip. It was a wonderful, relaxing week spent in a classically beautiful and refined city. Having my uncle as a host made everything that much better, and even though I was very far from home and my Irish 'home', it didn't feel so foreign. The world gets smaller each time I go a bit further into a new corner, and I quite like blurring the lines like that. On my return to Dublin, I remembered to say 'cheers' to the boy who sold me my sandwich, but almost thanked the bus driver for my change with 'danke'. Back to Galway was very much coming home from a well enjoyed vacation.

Pray For Boston

Yesterday, I watched part of the Vienna City Marathon. It was a crazy big event, blocking off city highways and hosting over 40,000 runners from all over. There were the professionals with a head-start and world records, an 'elite group' with exceptional times, but mostly just average looking people with a dream. These were my favorites: unlike the stars who were coolly unphased by the routine, the normal people were panting and struggling by the 1/3 mark where I was standing but still fighting onwards towards their goal, after working so very hard to get to that point already. They grimaced in concentration  but broke into a smile when we whooped for them in particular, and seeing that extra burst of speed after yelling out to someone made me glow with miniature pride for their gritted determination. They had fun with it, too. I saw everything from a group in simple matching t-shirts to sponsored beer advertisement costumes to lederhosen and a bumblebee.

After the race, the city continued to buzz with excitement from the event. The U-Bahn was full of participants proudly sporting their numbers and medals, and the entire thing made me want to get in shape and take up running. I couldn't imagine the thrill and exhilaration that would come from completing such a challenge and test of endurance. It was a simply energized city, from the runners and their personal supporters to absolutely everyone on the street cheering for them and respecting their dedication. It was happy.

It's the contrast, then, that kills me. It's the knowledge about how happy everything could have been, should have been, would have been, in Boston today. But it wasn't, and now there are countless families and friends and lovers and runners who have had their lives forever changed. There are the two dead, and also the many others physically severely wounded; the tallies don't even begin to measure the psychological damage dealt by today's bombing. The news articles and photographs are wrenching, because it could have been so good, and instead it is hell on earth.

I found out through Facebook, like too many tragedies of late. I want to hug my loved ones and keep them safe. I don't know the cause or origin behind these attacks, and I can hardly imagine the feelings in Boston right now, but I would think them to be the exact opposite of last night in Vienna. I've been following reactions on social media, and I suppose one of the better truths is that an overwhelming number of people are talking about praying for Boston, more than anything else. There's the shock and outrage, fear and hurt, but also so much hopeful desperate support for the entire city. People bind together through horrors like this, hold each other up during the worst parts, and through that, some help must come. I truly believe in the power of prayer, and tonight, I'll be adding my voice to that chorus.

Listen close, we need You.

My Story, Improvised

In Ireland, I've tried very hard not to come across as too much of a tourist: I decided early on that if I was going to be living in one community for four months, I wanted to be able to blend in and fit in as much as possible for as long as possible. Sure, I still carried my camera (RIP) to class each day in case I saw something noteworthy or out of the usual, but for the most part, in Galway at least, I did my grocery shopping and laundry and topped up my phone whenever it needed more minutes.

In Vienna, though, I am a tourist. I've gotten over my crushing shame at not speaking German, for the most part, and have been filling my days hopping back and forth through the all essential U-Bahn system to most of the highlights in the several guide books my uncle has lent me for the week. Since we do have over a week here, it's been nice to take this all in slowly rather than in a crammed weekend trip like London or Cork, but are still being mindful of the limited time block in this beautiful country. Plans to see Budapest, Prague or Salzburg have all been scrapped for budgetary reasons, but instead we've been able to see loads more of the Viennese top sights: both planned, and accidental.

One of the planned but less touristy attractions of the past several days was a jaunt to see a local improv comedy group, the English Lovers, who perhaps predictably put on their performance in English (!), so that was also a nice treat. We found out about the show through my uncle, who knows the group well and has been seeing their work for the past ten years. There's an improv troupe at my school, which is wonderfully funny and features one of my best friends, so I thought I knew what to expect when I sat down to this show. I was surprised to see a long form act take shape before my eyes, one running story based off a random book that lasted for two hours and somehow tied together perfectly in the end. It was of course funny, but also serious and though provoking and could very well have been a scripted production. If I'd come in clueless halfway through, I wouldn't have known the difference.

A major attraction of travel for me is the notion of freedom, of living out a 'choose your own adventure story' with consequences and uncountable untold paths. It's what's been nice about really living in Vienna comfortably this week, it's been so easy for us to hop on the subway with the unlimited week pass to any of the many attractions. At the oldest zoo in the world, I've seen pandas and a baby elephant, right after touring a royal palace, and I think that on Monday Alexa and I are going to take a bus halfway to a fairytale castle and then hike another half hour to get there almost on a whim.Yesterday, we wanted to get to the beautiful blue Danube River which is actually located a little ways outside the city center, so hopped on the train and kind of guessed which stop we needed. We ended up missing it twice, each time getting off and then on again in the opposite direction. That day, we also made the adult decision to splurge away from our normal bakery sandwich lunch and went to TGIFridays for our first Austrian restaurant and I ate a Caesar salad, because mostly everything here is meat and bread. When I handed the waitress my Bank of Ireland card to pay, we found out that she was from Mayo, and I had a tremendous rush of happiness and home feeling, which is strange but I'm really missing Ireland already- not a good sign for the future. My friend Katarina recently wrote a lot of good thoughts on the subject, which are fairly similar to mine, so check them out!

Despite loving Ireland, it has been nice to get to see the more European style capital city. A huge highlight of the trip so far was yesterday afternoon, while on the way back from sightseeing we ran into a Steinmark festival that we're still not really sure why it was happening, but it was full of people in lederhosen (young and old), music (traditional and really out of place- a guy with dreads and accordion players), food (schnitzel and beer and a whole roast pig) and generally just felt like the big European outdoors party I remember from Spain. This whole week has reminded me a lot of Spain, more than anything else I think.

When I was in Spain, I was sixteen, and too 'joven' to be truly independent, even though it was a critical turning point of independence in my life. Here, I'm able to make choices and change my mind, and even though I'm not going to do it, the notion that I could just pick up tomorrow morning and take a train to Venice is absurd and exciting. I think it's the choices part of all this that is the moment, cause you know, as Dumbledore says, it's the choices who make us who we are. Last night, we went to a showing of the iconic black and white film The Third Man, which is set around old Vienna and featured a lot of the landmarks we've been exploring the past week. One of the big themes of the picture was the struggles to choose between right and wrong, easy and necessary. Thankfully, I'm not grappling with one of those life or death decisions right now, but even when it's something as simple as being nice to the obnoxious cape people selling tickets to Mozart concerts or attempting to give a good name to America, those are still important little choices to make each day. The Hapsburg queens were tied by formalities and political marriages, but in a relatively new change for my age and gender, I'm free to do much about anything. We're lucky to be living in a place where this is true, even if it's not something different and exciting like I'm experiencing now.

So I improv it. I don't know what will come next chapter, but I've got a camera temporarily thanks to someone who is jumping higher in the favorite uncle contest by saving the trip with it. I'm a person who often relies very heavily on plans, and gets anxious when those go awry, but I'm trying to be more comfortable with mistakes or roadblocks and bouncing over them. And it's gotta tie together at the end, no matter what pops up, right?

Highs and Lows of Vienna so Far

Let me just get this out of the way first and foremost without letting it spoil through the rest of the post: I broke my camera. I dropped it on the floor of a Viennese bakery this morning before getting a giant cinnamon roll and didn't realize until I tried to take a photo of men rappelling down the interior of St. Stephen's Cathedral putting multicolored saran wrap over the stain glass windows. My last photograph is a picture of a huge circular loaf of bread that my friend and I bought because we thought it was a pretzel, and it looked like one, but it was actually a sweet roll. We then ate the entire thing in the bakery and probably jumped right out as clueless foreigners (if the hesitant ordering wasn't already a dead giveaway), but it was delicious and will be forever remembered as the last photo in my hardworking camera that's gotten me around the world for so very long. I'm currently struggling with figuring out how to get a new one- and record the rest of my last 5 weeks abroad! If anyone has any advice/wants to speed mail me one that would be lovely. I need it by next Monday when I go to Scotland.

But if that was the supreme low of my day and week and maybe month, I've been having a wonderful time here in Austria otherwise. The food I've mentioned above is breakfast mostly, Alexa and I will pop into different bakeries for a pastry, and then we've also been eating well otherwise. For lunch I've had a classic sausage, cut up into bite size pieces with ketchup and a roll on the side (I'm trying really hard to figure out how to order a hot dog, it's my goal for the week), and a wonderful croissant sandwich today. Ice cream is also a huge thing here, and it's mostly gelaterias set up by Italians. The first day I had a simple one scoop cone that was delicious, but today we split 'spaghetti ice'- which is thin strands of ice cream made to look like pasta, with a strawberry sauce drizzled over it and then topped with coconut. So it basically looked like a spaghetti dinner! I might steal some of her photos to post here too.

All of the buildings in the first district of Vienna, where we've been spending most of our time have been gorgeous and old, relics of the Hapsburg empire. Today, we toured the iconic St. Stephen's cathedral which is gigantic and ornate. We went through the crypts, which were like something out of a Dan Brown book- rooms full of bones and basically probably haunted, checked out the royal treasury which had all sorts of relics and artwork, took a sketchy elevator up one tower and gaped at the view, and then climbed 343 steps to the other tower and ended up in a gift shop. There's really cool paneling on the roof of the building, it's all different colored tiles making an intricate pattern and design of the eagle crest!

It was really windy on the top of St. Stephens, and the weather here has mostly fluctuated, but as a whole certainly warmer than Galway and plenty warm enough for ice cream. I'm still a bit jealous about everyone at home's Facebooks statuses about flip flops and sunburns, but it was so nice to soak in the little bits of sun we found. It was raining this morning a little as we made our way over to the Prater, which is a really neat outdoor amusement park. It's all kinds of historic and definitely has creepy parts that there's no way you could build in a new American theme park today, but I really did love the feel of it. I might get back there later on the trip, so I'll try hard to mention it again- especially the Ferris wheel.

I came to Austria very nervous about not knowing hardly any German, but it's been surprisingly easy to get by with a little guesswork on the menus and a lot of concessions on the part of the people we buy things from. Often, we sort of point at the food we want to order and attempt to pronounce the name, and they'll either smile or look exasperated and then switch to English. It's definitely a big change from being in Ireland. I think this trip is most like the one I took to Spain in 2008 more than anything else, partially because of the more European feel to everything and also because of the language barriers. I think here I'm a lot more willing to just break into English, but it is embarrassing. I wish I knew another language truly fluently.

The other thing about being here that makes it feel a lot like Spain is the fact that we're staying with my uncle, who works and lives here, so there's definitely the comfort of being with family in a home, as opposed to an ultra-budget hostel. It's easy to pop in and out, we can relax and spend free time at his house, and it's also just been great to catch up with him and my cousins as well. Hopefully, I'll get to spend more time with them this coming weekend.

Finally, the last nice plus of this week so far was the performance I attended tonight of the Vienna Symphonic Orchestra. It was all kinds of fancy and formal, with loads of older ladies and gentlemen walking around in their finest clothes and looking very snobby but also many of them seemed to truly love the music. I loved it too, but I don't think I had as much of a background in appreciation as they did. We got the cheap seats, although not the cheapest, which were standing room only in the very back. Ours were strange but interesting, we were literally onstage right behind the orchestra! The ticket when we bought it said 'obstructed view', but it wasn't actually obstructed, it was a good seat but still very odd. We were with a bunch of other tourists, but we liked to think that we were less obnoxious than they were- at least I wasn't taking any pictures!

Next time, I'll write a bit more about the cape people and Mozart and hopefully some giant pandas that I'm about to see tomorrow at the world's oldest zoo. Until then, gute nacht.

Family Vacation Postscript: Trekking

P.S. I had a fantastic time with my family, but since they are the bulk of my readers I think, I'm also going to spend a little time mentioning the bit of an adventure I had the day after they left for home. I'm now snug in my uncle's flat in Austria, but before that, I had one empty day in County Dublin. Here's what happened.

So I left them in the airport feeling loved but also very alone again, and set to moping on a bench thinking about waiting for their flight to take off before I ventured off to find my B&B. I ran into a friend on her way to Prague, which was exciting, and then finally pulled myself over to the bus station where the sketchy email address I sent my credit card information to had directed me to go. I just missed the last shuttle that would have taken me where I wanted to go, so I lingered around a bit, didn't think about going to mass at the steps away conveniently located chapel, and almost missed the next shuttle a half hour later because I didn't realize which one I was looking for. But I made it, and was dropped off almost immediately at the wrong side of the road from the Glenmore House B&B. I'd struggled a lot to find a good place to stay- a hostel in the center of the city would have been cheap, but I'd have needed to pay almost the difference in a taxi fee because my flight the next morning left before buses were up and running, so I settled on that. It was a lovely little place, and my room was comfortable, clean and private, but without wireless internet capabilities, so that was a big shame. 

The no wifi deeply cut into my plans of getting work done and catching up on my writing and well overdue skype calls. Instead, I slumped around missing my family, then dragged myself to the nearby town of Swords, which was a bit of a walk but the weather was lovely. It was a small residential area, truly a suburb of Dublin, something I've been away from these several months, hopping around to cities or beautiful tourist country towns but not getting to see the hohum average life, and I quite enjoyed it. I walked down their main street, stumbled upon two castles in my unsuccessful search for mass, one of which was most definitely haunted, stuck mostly on one winding path that I knew I only had to turn around on to find my way back, but diverted a few times for the castles and also to eat my supper of Chinese takeaway on a hill on the side of the highway. The Chinese food, by the way, was my first in Ireland and definitely different: it came with fries (chips), and felt like was based on the same recipes as restaurants back home but made with whatever ingredients (read: cabbage and prawns) they happened to have on hand. They also didn't know what soy sauce was, seemingly confusing it with the ‘soya milk’ my lactose intolerant sister was given all week, and when they did offer sweet and sour, it turned out to be basically the same thing as what most of Ireland considers ketchup. I’m also certain the workers were not Chinese, though the store advertised itself as such, because she wrote down my order in what looked like Korean.               
 
That's a really brief description of the adventures of the afternoon, but it was quite a contrast to the previous week of all included stress free travel. I hiked towards an unknown town following traffic signs and a tower in the distance, tramped around an old graveyard and got stared down by a grey tomcat, and drank Fanta with my takeout meal next to a busy road (safe up high on a grassy slope though) probably only because I knew it'd be fun to write about someday. Other than that, I enjoyed just slipping into a suburb without a tour bus and pretending to be Irish by not speaking, and getting a glimpse of what is probably the equivalent to my hometown but here in Ireland. 

When I met my uncle in Austria we were talking about how he travels all the time for work and wishes he had more time in Vienna, whereas I've always wanted to get away and see the world. Our discussion led towards the point of always wanting what you don't have, which seems true with how different my Fasting and Feasting post was from the Touring and Trekking ones I've just done now. I try very hard to be happy with where I am, and if not, to change something, but it definitely takes a lot of work and practice.

Updates on Spring/Summer Break Austria coming soon! Guten nacht. 

Family Vacation: Touring

Hello, readers! I’m writing this somewhere above Europe’s Skies en route for a week and a half in Austria visiting my uncle. I’ve just finished a wonderful week tour of southern Ireland with my family, and one oddball day of meandering around a little town near the airport killing time until my 4am shuttle back. I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated here, I’m three days behind my own personal writing schedule, but will try to get back on track now.

The first few days of our trip covered a lot of things in the west I’d already seen, so I’ll focus instead on flying through the latter half, which was all new! Probably my favorite part was our drive through the scenic ring of Kerry, which is really just a gorgeous drive up along a mountain road, contrary to my prior belief that it was some sort of ancient well preserved ring fort or Stonehenge contraption. There were baby sheep everywhere, like the first day at Bunratty, and I finally understand why they’re the symbol of spring and new beginnings.

One of the lower points on the week, though through no fault of the guide or anyone on our trip, was our tour of the beautiful Waterford crystal factory. I was surprised by this, because I wasn’t expecting to be particularly moved in any way by the experience, thinking we’d just be looking at a bunch of pretty bowls, bugged to buy something, and then be on our merry way. I felt a little ripped off that the crystal wasn’t even made in the city anymore, and unsure what the point of even going would be, but then was soon presented with a very different story. Our guide was an older gentleman who had worked as a carver at Waterford for 40 years, and as he told the tale of the company being taken over by the bank, but a select few (of which I suspect he was one) fighting very hard to keep the name, and finally winning the rights to produce a few special pieces in Ireland, and oversee much of the overseas production. It all seemed like a very personal struggle, and as he softly spoke of the bygone days of Waterford glory I couldn’t help but mourn with him. The crystal factory still prepares trophies, special orders, and the most ornate of pieces, but the majority of the work is now done elsewhere. It was fascinating to tour the area where they do those few select jobs: I’ve always been impressed with the process of glass blowing, and the intensity of the concentration during the engraving process was definitely impressive. 

Another day during the trip, I was also supremely impressed with the Skelling Experience, which was a dynamic presentation about this incredibly remote island monastery with thousands of steps and centuries of Viking-riddled history. I’ve since decided that I want to go and climb it for myself, because it looks like one of those fantastic National Geographic adventures and it would also make a really good story for here. Anyone who wants to come too, let me know. J

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The plane landed and I got distracted, so I’m finishing this up after my first day in Vienna: I’m going to fly through the rest of this and sleep soon, but it’s already so delayed so here goes.

·         We toured several big old houses that reminded me of Pride and Prejudice, and also what little I know of Downton Abbey (I watched my first episode last night in the Dublin B&B!) Our guide in one went on a tangent about the beautiful landscapes in the US, mostly Arizona and the Grand Canyon. I’ve never been out there, but it put things into “grass is always greener” perspective for sure.

·         Overall a lot of our trip was filled with shops and photo ops, but we stopped off at several new places and the best part was the general unstressed nature of everything. There were moments of general familial rukus, but despite all that I was definitely very sad and lonely right after they left me in the Dublin Airport. At that point, I wasn’t excessively concerned about finding my B&B, only a little, but just felt alone and wished that I had perhaps been nicer to them the final day instead of quabbling over computer usage with one of my sisters.

·         While our trip began with a glorious feast, it ended with an Irish traditional dance and music show. There was a great selection of entertainment and lots of food. During one of the final numbers, the trained professional dancers went through the crowds selecting a few audience members to come onstage with them. You know how when you’re little and at a show and they ask for a volunteer and everyone throws their arms into the air as far as they can reach, yelling ‘ooh ooh ooh pick me pick me”? This was not one of those situations, and somehow the smiling Irishman pointed to me from the front table and I shook my head and he looked so crestfallen that I couldn’t say no, so I ended up getting on stage and attempting to step dance.

·         I also danced a little bit earlier in Waterford when my dad, sister and I ended up at a small local pub, but only after being asked repeatedly and then sat down very quickly. My dad also gave me a shout out by requesting Galway Girl and told the guitarist all about our family and me studying abroad. I acted all embarrassed  each time he told a shopkeeper or bus driver about how he hadn’t seen me since January first and how I’d gotten most of my final essays done ahead of time to go on my upcoming travels and wasn’t that so responsible of me, but it was deep down touching and special. Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who cares enough about them to brag and miss, and I’ve been graced with two; my dad, especially and always, also Tyler recently.

·         The weather was perfect, we were exceedingly lucky to only have one somewhat rainy day in Galway at the very beginning before joining the tour- apparently they kept missing the rain, because when it was raining in Galway before they got there it was dry wherever they were. 

(this is ending without much conclusion, but that's because it has a part two/postscript- coming soon!)

Hope in the Time of Famine

I have seen the future, and it's in Ireland.

This is a silly overdone statement at first glance, because for all general purposes, Ireland is a very old land. The streets of Galway are cobblestone and the surrounding countryside is peppered with castles- sometimes magnificent and sometimes a random ancient stone wall in the middle of a field. For all of it's current glory, the nation has a storied past that stands head and shoulders above other countries when it comes to legends and triumphs, but has also suffered very deeply in the past.

I'd heard of the Great Famine in Ireland before I'd come here, just as part of my general knowledge of the world, but never really given it too much thought, knowing there was something with potatoes but never being really sure if the problem was that there were not enough potatoes or only potatoes or if it was all a bit of an exaggeration. Here though, it's still very much a big deal, something people speak about in hushed tones and seem eager to make sure you understand how very important it was upon their history.

For the past few days, I've been part of a bus trip with my family as they're getting to see Ireland for the first time, and receiving a very different view of the country than I'd seen previously. We've just finished the portion of the tour that stops at places in County Galway that I'm becoming quite familiar with, and there was something awfully off-putting about riding in a massive coach bus down the narrow road where my apartment is situated. It made me think though, of the times during my past travels studies when I've hopped from city to city absorbing everything the guide fed to us, and as I now picked up on little inaccuracies or things our Irish driver told us that were slightly altered to fit into our mindset of what Ireland should be (continually calling the language 'Gaelic' instead of 'Irish'), I couldn't help but feel a little sad. Anyone going on a drive-by tour would only know what they heard those brief ten minutes, and since most of our group is older or middle-aged Americans, it was very much tailored to what they wanted to hear. For the rest of the trip, this is what I can expect to get too. While it's all very comfortable and convenient, and we're staying and eating at some luxury places, I know for sure that what we see will be worlds away from the way the locals view their homes.

Not long ago, I watched a fantastic TED Talk entitled 'The Danger of A Single Story', in which a Nigerian writer discusses the problems she sees with only knowing a culture from one perspective. This has been stewing around in my mind for a while, along with a few points from the lecture I attended given by former Irish president Mary Robinson much earlier in the semester. This, I think, more than anything, provided the seed for whatever I'm mentally growing right now. She talked about recent impressive humanitarian efforts by the Irish government for those currently suffering from the effects of famine, and remarked on how they are particularly successful in that area because the Irish understand: they've been there. Far fewer than we realize are not terribly removed from the famine, but they are the children of survivors. The event has come up multiple times on our recent tour, and one driver explained that the country lost over half it's population in three years to either the 'new world' or the 'next world': everyone emigrated or starved. In Dublin I learned about how people would commit petty crimes because at least in jail they'd be fed, and today in Ennistymon we stopped by a memorial for all of the children victims of the famine. Our car driver in Killarney this afternoon spoke about how the British greed and Irish ignorance was at the root of it all, bad farmers ruining the potato soil but forced to export plentiful crops of corn to pay land taxes, and then buy overpriced diseased imported vegetables for their families. Colonialism has had it's toll here, too.

So why the hope? Ireland, despite the Celtic tiger, is in a dreadful recession and still struggling economically. But it has so many additional stories, and that's why people come here. I think the talk of the famine has me more excited than anything else, because it's finished here. Ireland's not perfect, but the difference between visiting here is that while slum tourism still exists in India and Kenya, my bus through Galway talked about the cathedral, college, and historic architecture- not the struggling Shantalla school district. The famine was a dreadful part of Ireland's past, but it's also in the past. There are monuments and museums about it, lest the residents, in their prosperity, forget where they've come from. The prospect that this is a possibility for areas ravaged by famine today is an absolutely thrilling one, that Somalia may one day be world renowned for it's poets and painters, instead of pirates and insurgents. I would love more than anything to return to East Africa in 50 years and see a recreated village of how people lived during famine times, listen to an audio guide and then return to a happy, prosperous town where such suffering is merely a fading memory for ballads. I've still no idea how we're going to get there, but I know that a world free from extreme deprivation is entirely achievable. Ireland is a comeback kid, and it gives me hope.