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Let’s Go to Sligo!

A highlight of my semester that I don’t want to miss describing is my amazing trip to Sligo this past weekend.  My friend Emma from my English class lives there, and she invited me to stay.

Sligo is a town of about 20,000 in Sligo County, Connacht, Republic of Ireland.  Connacht refers to the four historical provinces of Ireland: Ulster, Munster, Leinster and Connacht.  Ulster includes the counties of Northern Ireland as well as three in the Republic.  Connacht encompasses much of the rocky and wild west coast, including Sligo and Galway, where I’ve been traveling.

I loved Sligo, and here’s why.  The varied landscape is stunning and provides many opportunities for outdoor recreation.  Sligo looks much like the part of Vermont where I’ll be working at summer camp when I return to America, but with a beach as well as beautiful mountains, rivers and lakes.  Emma, her mum and I canoed on the river (I believe the Garavogue), docked, climbed out and visited the Holy Well across the road, a secret holy well in the forest which has pagan significance as a fertility site as well as Catholic significance.  It was used as a secret spot for mass in penal times, when England controlled the religious, educational and property rights of Catholics in Ireland.  Mass services still take place at the Holy Well today; for example, one of Emma’s cousins was baptised there!  We had tea on the dock with a swan who was a little too interested in our biscuits (or “biccies” as my hosts would say) and canoed back.

Sligo Abbey, a fantastic local ruin.

Another element of Sligo I loved was that it’s steeped in history, like much of Ireland.  At Drumcliffe Cemetary, I visited the grave of Yeats, who loved Sligo so much he wrote tons of poems there and lived there much of the time, though he wasn’t from there.  There is also the largest megalithic cemetery in Ireland, the Carrowmore tombs.  Emma’s mum, a recently retired university lecturer in art and design, actually helped excavate one of these tombs back in the day!  The tombs include dolmens in the style of those like Poulnabrone and the Giant’s Ring, as well as more elaborate passage tombs like that at Newgrange.  We also climbed Mt. Knocknarea to see the cairn that probably contains the remains of the legendary Queen Maeve (Mebhdh if you’ve brushed up on your Gaelic).  Mebhdh was a feisty, fierce and determined warrior queen.  In other words, like many heroines from Irish folklore, she coulda been a Scottie.

Emma’s mum Marie studying a dolmen. “That’s a lovely wee dolmen,” she said.

Finally, I had fun in Sligo because Emma’s upbringing in Sligo reminded me in certain ways of my upbringing in Union.  Emma’s mum eats porridge for breakfast every morning, just as my mum eats oatmeal every day.  Emma and her mum were also pleased that I prefer brown bread and rice over white, red wine over white.  “You’ll fit in well here!” Emma kept saying. They took great care of me as a vegetarian; we ate delicious vegetarian food all weekend, including fresh veggies from their little back garden.  We also consumed large quantities of tea, naturally.  Because Sligo is a small town, whenever we went to the pub and such, Emma and her mum saw people they knew.  Emma caught up with several people she knew from school when we were out, something I inevitably find myself doing when I go to, say, La Fogata or Wal-Mart in Union.

I made so many fun comparisons!  Queen’s is about a three and a half hours drive from Sligo, comparable to the distance from Union to Agnes Scott.  Finally, at one point when we overheard a very colloquial conversation on the street, Emma giggled and said, “That’s a Sligo accent.  People are like, you’re from Sligo?  Yeah, I don’t have a Sligo accent.”  This is what people often say about me and South Carolina as well!

So, Emma and I have some interesting background and experiences in common, even from different sides of the Atlantic.  If only I had Emma’s lovely red hair as well;)

Emma!

I am finished packing!  In just about an hour and a half, family friends Ciaran and Loretta will pick me up and take me to their house in Antrim, close to the airport where I’ll catch my first flight towards home in the morning!

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From Ulster to America

No, I’m not going home yet.  I just went to the Ulster-American Folk Park today, an outdoor, interactive museum in Omagh that explores immigration from the Northern Irish region to America.

My Czech friend Martin and I decided to make the trip to Omagh spontaneously and I’m so pleased that we did!  A few of my ancestors emigrated from County Antrim to South Carolina in the 1740s, so it was incredible to learn a little about what their experience may have been like from the Folk Park’s exhibits and historical interpreters.

The museum includes replicas and original dwellings from Irish homesteads, churches, schools and shops as well as American frontier shops and homesteads.  We visited Ireland first, including the actual homestead and cottage where Thomas Mellon, one of the founding benefactors of Carnegie-Mellon, was born.  There were chickens, ducks and geese there, including chicks and ducklings, so it was of course one of my favorite parts of the Folk Park.  Then we headed for the dockyard and a replica of a ship like that my ancestors would have traveled on, then America!  It was fun to see the Irish stone walls and thatched cottages change to split rail fences and log cabins in America.

In a funny way, it felt like going home.  I knew much more about the American side of immigration history, and the demonstration houses in “America” reminded me of those I’ve seen in Colonial Wiliamsburg and Historic Brattonsville, so “America” was very familiar to me.  I’m sad to be leaving Belfast, but you know what?  I like my home, and I’m glad John White and his family chose to leave Ulster for South Carolina.  All the same, I’m equally glad that I’ll have the chance to return to Ulster on holiday, which my ancestors likely weren’t able to do.

This evening, Martin and I went to Fibber Magee’s, a city centre pub, for my last Belfast pint and some wonderful live music!  The band played a combination of pop music and some of my favorite traditional Irish tunes, so it was truly a perfect last night in the city.  Tomorrow I have some time in the morning to pack before I go to stay the night with family friends in Antrim.  They’ll take me to the airport in the wee hours of Saturday morning, and I’ll be on my way from Ulster to America!

If I have a chance to blog before I leave, I certainly will.  If not, I’ll share some more reflections once I’m back in the USA.

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NI 2012

The Olympic torch came through Belfast today on its way to London.  This was the second time in my life I’ve gotten to see the torch.  My grandmother took my sister, cousins and me to see the torch come down Main Street in my hometown on its way to Atlanta in 1996.  I remember sitting on the sign in front of the University of South Carolina-Union to stay out of the sun and wait for the torch to pass.

This year, I didn’t have my organized grandmother to lead me to the torch route with plenty of time to spare, so I started walking from my dorm a little late and arrived at Dublin Road in city centre just in time to see the torch go past!  I followed the torch route for a short way and got to watch the torch change hands from one bearer to the next.  A lot of other people were chasing the torch as well, many of them families with young children.

2012 is a big year for Northern Ireland.  In addition to celebrating the Olympics, Belfast has celebrated the 100th anniversary of the Titanic (opening a new museum in the harbour where the ship was built), the 200th birthday of Charles Dickens and the 60th year of the Queen’s reign.

Naturally, the last one on the list hasn’t been actively celebrated by all.  Northern Irish folks with Nationalist or Republican leanings would tend not to care too much for the Queen, though plenty of folks on both sides seem perfectly indifferent or content enough with the royal hoopla.

Either way, the Diamond Jubilee was officially celebrated with a four day weekend and a huge international market at City Hall, and the point is that exciting things are happening in Belfast in 2012.  The Northern Ireland Tourist Board’s slogan for this year is “NI 2012: Our Time, Our Place.” “Come to Northern Ireland” sorts of ads appear frequently on TV here and several Americans have told me they’ve heard the “Our Time, Our Place” ad on American radio.  The ads send a clear message:  It is safe to come to Northern Ireland now.  Northern Ireland’s future is big, bright, and shiny brand new.  Please come celebrate with us!

I’ve heard a few people say that the Troubles are not over, that tensions are merely simmering under the surface.  Nerd that I am, I’m reminded of Hagrid’s early Voldemort theories (“Some say ‘e died. Codswallop in my opinion), and I’m certainly in no position to say definitively if “the Troubles” are “over” or not. The economy isn’t good, and that always has the potential for stress and conflict.

But I hope the “Our Time, Our Place” message does what it seems to be aiming to do: pump tourist income into the economy while restoring Belfast pride and solidarity.

The fact that children can run freely through the city centre after that great symbol of solidarity, the Olympic torch, shows Belfast has come a long way in a short time.  There was a time, more recent than the time I saw the torch in my own hometown, when that would have been impossible here.  I’m glad Belfast is celebrating.

I’ll be leaving Belfast early Saturday morning, but I’ll keep posting about my experiences before and after I go home.  Start planning your own Northern Irish adventure at http://www.discovernorthernireland.com/

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The Magic of Aran

In the pictures below, you will find several candidates for cutest baby cow in the world, an example of a dolmen, or portal tomb, a seal doing tricks, an Iron Age Celtic fort, a Tennessee white and orange cottage, and an oddly specific problem involving pigeons at Galway’s St. Nicholas church.

In other words, here are some pictures from my trip to Galway and Inis Mór.

I rode the ferry to Inis Mór, the largest of the three Aran Islands with a population about the size of the Agnes Scott College student body (900).  Inis Mór is also the island most visited by tourists of the three, and that fact was pretty apparent.  As a tourist myself, I can’t exactly complain about the craft shops and cafes placed conveniently near the island’s sights, but I do wonder how some of the locals feel about it.  Perhaps the trade off is that tourism helps support the fairly traditional way of life that still thrives on the Aran Islands.  Residents still speak Irish daily!  I once made a very brief attempt in fifth grade to teach myself Irish out of a pocket Gaelic phrase book.  Needless to say, I failed miserably, but I enjoyed hearing the language spoken all these years later, even though I had no idea what was being said.

To get around the island, I rented a bike, which actually took some courage.  I haven’t ridden a bike much at all in the past eight years or so, and my last bike riding experience in Decatur was slightly scary.  However, I’d taken so many guided tours at this point in my time abroad that I really wanted the freedom to explore the island on my own.  So, I trusted the common wisdom that you can never really forget how to ride a bicycle and struck out, helmet fitted carefully to my head.  I bought a picnic at the local Spar supermarket, including Fanta, brown bread, crisps, an apple and Irish goat’s cheese.

It was supposed to take thirty minutes to bike from the main village of Kilronan to the Iron Age Celtic fort Dún Aonghasa, but it took me much longer as I stopped to take pictures every time I saw something charming, surprising, beautiful or romantic.  (And, okay, I walked the bike up a few hills, but those were mostly on the way back).  After a while I had to reign the photography in a bit, because I found the island to be stunning on the whole.  I stopped for a picnic on the shore where seals are often about.  I had asked the cashier in Spar if she knew the best time to see the seals.  “Probably high tide,” she said, then spoke to one of her coworkers in Irish.

“We don’t know when high tide is,” she said turning back to me, “but you’ll see them anyway.”

She was right.  At first I couldn’t tell if I was seeing bobbing bits of kelp and just imagining them to be seals (as I imagined as an eleven-year-old that I could speak Gaelic), but soon enough they came closer and revealed themselves to be seals!  Apparently, seals like to stick their heads and tails out of the water like they’re doing a trick.  See if you can spot the seal below.

There is so much that I could tell you about Inis Mór, which is definitely one of my favorite places I’ve visited so far, but I’ll focus on my interactions with animals on the island as there are a couple of good ones in addition to the seal-watching.

I met the white horse in the picture below when I was biking back to Kilronan after visiting Dún Aonghasa.  I needed an excuse to take a break from peddling, so I decided to try and make friends with this horse who leaned so curiously over the dry stone wall.  She was a very sweet horse, nuzzling my hand when I followed all the horse rules and offered a flat hand to pat her nose.  Then she tried to eat my dress, so I said goodbye.

A little further along the road, I took a detour, following a sign to Teampall Chiarain, the ruins of St. Ciaran’s monastery on the island.  The detour led me down a tiny and steep country path, where I definitely need to get off the bike and inch carefully along.  Suddenly, I heard a dog barking ferociously from someone’s backyard.  I froze.  The black dog appeared and continued to bark.”This dog is going to bite me,” I thought.  I tried following the dog rules, don’t look the strange dog in the eye, don’t make any sudden movements.  The black dog quit barking and edged towards me even as a tried to make my careful escape.

I held my hand out for the dog to sniff, palm flat, fingers closed.  He sniffed me and allowed me to pat his head.  Then he sat down next to me.

This was no ferocious attack dog!  This was a sweet old black lab mix, with a graybeard.  He was just protecting his people by barking…and he really wanted to be petted.  I named him Ciaran, as I was looking for the Teampall Chiarain when I met him, and the meaning of Ciaran is black!

Finally, of course, as many horses, donkeys, cows and sheep as live in dry stone wall paddocks on Inis Mór, I frequently stopped and squealed, saying things like, “Hi, baby cow!” and thinking, literally, “That’s the cutest baby cow I’ve ever seen.” Until I saw the next one.

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The Magic of Éireann

The past two days on the West Coast have been full of Irish magic.  Monday morning, I had a yummy breakfast of poached eggs and wheaten bread at Cafe Zealous down the street from my hostel, then picked up the bus for a tour of the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren.   The Burren is an expanse of limestone landscape in County Clare, known as the “land of the fertile rock .”  Because of the nutrient richness of the limestone, the Burren is excellent farmland and, according to our guide, home to over 70% of Ireland’s native flora.

There are a lot of adorable fauna in the Burren too.  We saw an abundance of cows and sheep, as well as one field full of grown Shetland ponies and their baby Shetland ponies.  These teeny ponies were running and jumping around.  It is difficult to say when I have seen a more precious sight, though you will find in the following posts that cute animals were not in short supply in my West Coast adventure.

Among many other sites, we also visited several fairy forts, prehistoric farming rings where you supposedly get stuck if you wander into one at night.  One of these forts contained a fairy tree, which of course you must never cut down unless you want to die and leave your family cursed for generations to come.  We also saw the Poulnabrone Dolmen, a neolithic passage tomb that I had previously learned about in the Ulster Museum, the 6th century Kilfenora Cathedral with its abundance of Celtic crosses, and the  stunning and isolated Corcomroe Abbey.

The highlight of course was the Cliffs of Moher,  Ireland’s “#1 Tourist Destination.”  These dramatic cliffs, over 700 feet high, feature in many tragic Irish folktales that involve falling off of the cliffs, leaping over the cliffs, etc.  They also  appear in The Princess Bride as the “Cliffs of Insanity,” and more recently served as the site of one of Voldemort’ s horcruxes in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  Even though I was on the other side of a stone barrier, I was slightly unnerved by the cliffs’ great height, and their cinematic associations led me to have a sob, Dumbledore, no memorial sort of moment.   Some tourists walked beyond the barrier, which ends at the  monument to  “those who have lost their lives at the Cliffs of Moher.”  Really, tourists?  Standing on a cliff edge that is constantly battered by fierce North Atlantic waves and could crumble away any second?   I ask you.  No doubt they are beautiful and impressive, though, and the tourism of the site has not overwhelmed the ancient energy of the place, like that Kelsey and I felt at the Hill of Tara.

In the evening, I returned to Tigh Coili with two friends who I made on the tour, one of whom is from Greenville, SC!  These women both graduated from the University of Missouri a few weeks ago, and are traveling through England, Scotland and Ireland for two weeks in celebration.  With their encouragement, and that of my esteemed readers, I worked up the nerve to sing for the pub!   Some credit for encouragement also goes to Lorenzo, an Italian flute player who I had met the night before and who is in Ireland solely to learn as much about Irish traditional music as possible.  He’s very earnest.

I told Lorenzo, “I want to sing tonight, but I don’t know what to do!”

“I introduce you!” he said, and told the band, “This is my American friend.  She is a singer.”  I took my place sitting with the band, and the accordion player asked, “Are you going to sing for us?”

“Yes,” I said.   They were very excited and, as tradition goes, banged on their glasses and called out, “Listen! There’s a singer in the house!”  The pub went quiet and I sang “Tomorrow is a Long Time” by Bob Dylan.  Everyone really enjoyed it and no one spoke at all the whole time I was singing!  I received many complements and one British guy asked me, “Is that a  Nickel Creek song?”  Indeed, Sarah Watkins of Nickel Creek sings a cover of “Tomorrow is a Long Time” that is far more beautiful in vocal quality than Dylan’s original (I’m sure he’d forgive me for saying so).  This was an incredible experience, fulfilling dreams I’ve cherished since I was a little girl listening to the Chieftans.

Yesterday, I took the ferry to Inis Mór, one of the Aran Islands where Irish life is still at its most traditional.  I’ll spend the day in Galway today and will blog more about the island tonight or tomorrow morning, when I’m back in Belfast.

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Which Way? Galway!

I embarked on my first trip yesterday morning, catching a bus to Dublin and another to Galway, a lovely town on the west coast known as the capital of traditional Irish music and the birthplace of the claddagh  ring.  When I finally arrived at the Galway bus station after about 5 hours of traveling, I asked the ticket clerk to direct me to my hostel, the Sleepzone, and he said, “It’d be a long walk in this heat.  You should take bus 405 at the top of Eyre  Square.  It’ll drop you off right close.”

Well, the hostel claimed it was within “close walking distance” of the station and the bus wouldn’t arrive for another twenty minutes, so I asked someone else, a young woman working in Tourist Information.

“Oh, it’s just up there past the TK Maxx!”  she told me.  It truly was close and I was there in no time.  Bless the ticket clerk’s heart.  He didn’t know  I was a  Carolina girl, and while  the  70  degree weather we’ve been having here lately is disturbingly hot for locals, it’s quite comfortable for me.  But he was only concerned about my health.

After checking in at the  Sleepzone, which I found to be comfortable and welcoming, I walked down Shop  Street and visited the open air market outside St. Nicholas Church.  I went inside the church as well for a nice respite from the sunshine. It was a lovely old stone church, but had many signs of an active congregation.  The paintings from children’s  Sunday School classes made me miss my “babies” at Oakhurst back in Decatur, GA!

I also did some window shopping in the jewelry stores on Shop Street, as I am in the market for a sterling silver, Connemara marble ring.  The two jewelers I spoke with made great conversation!   When I told one of them that the Connemara marble was “lovely,” automatically pronouncing the o like those in “hoof,” as they do in Northern Ireland, he started.

“For a minute there you sounded like you were from Northern Ireland!”  I laughed and told him I had been studying at Queens and must have picked up the rhythms of speech a wee bit.   He told me his theory that “The American accent came from the Northern Irish accent.  So many Presbyterians moved to American from Northern Ireland.”   Considering that I am descended from one such Presbyterian, I certainly couldn’t argue.

I need to relinquish the computer to another hostel guest, but here’s some homework for my readers.  If you have an idea for a song I could sing in an Irish bar during a traditional music session, what shall it be?  I heard some traditional music last night; as I was by myself, the badhran player at Tigh Coili, a pub renowned for its live music, invited me to sit with the band!! When I told him I was a singer, he promptly pressured me  to sing for them, but I  was of course too flustered to come up with a proper song.  I might return tonight, however, after my day trip to the Cliffs and Moher!

So, what’ll it be? It doesn’t have to be an Irish  song, I was assured, but please don’t suggest my hit single  “Christmas with the Weasleys.”  😉

I’ll write again soon!

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Freedom!

Yesterday I turned in my final essay of the semester; I’m free from academic work at last, and can spend my last two weeks traveling and having fun in Belfast!

I am too ashamed to count how many days it’s been since I last blogged.  Final essays and presentations and a stream of visitors have given me plenty of excuses not to.

Here’s a quick recap of what I’ve been doing while my parents, British friends Jan and Alan, and sister Kelsey have been visiting at various times.

The Grand Opera House.  A glorious old theatre in Belfast, where Kelsey and I saw a beautiful adaptation of A Streetcar Named Desire by the Scottish Ballet.

Being a diva as we wait for the curtains to rise.

May Street Presbyterian Church, one of the oldest churches in Belfast, where Kelsey and I were welcomed warmly by the tiny and rather geriatric congregation.  One of the men who spoke to us was a retired police officer; at one time, about 90% of Belfast police were Protestant, which was a huge source of controversy (and often power inequality) during the Troubles.  A perfectly friendly, grandfatherly man, he alluded to the Troubles in describing the church’s history; the central location of the church was at one time very dangerous, contributing to the decline of its membership.

Titanic Belfast.  The new museum covers everything from Belfast’s booming industries at the time of the ship’s building to the building and fitting out processes, the sinking and the aftermath.  It’s elegantly designed, very interactive, informative and a lot of fun.

Kelsey in the sign outside the museum.

St. George’s Market.  Of course, I go here all the time, and I couldn’t wait to introduce my visitors to its wonders.  Kelsey and I went after the May Street service, as St. George’s is just down the street, and I finally bought the pretty apron I’ve been eying at Tees and Toasts, hand-stitched with rainbows, clouds and sunshine in differently patterned fabrics.

Derry/Londonderry.  Kelsey and I met up with Kathryn Dean to take a wee day trip to Derry, where we had our own personal trolley tour, visited the Bloody Sunday memorial, and climbed about on the city’s historical walls, built in the early 1600s.

One of many civil rights murals in Derry/Londonderry, this one in the historically Republican “Free Derry.”

The three of us with our personal tour guide.

A lovely view of Derry from atop the city walls.

“Londonderry…No Surrender” – historically Loyalist territory.


“You are now entering Free Derry” – historically Republican territory.

The Ulster Folk Museum.  My parents and I enjoyed learning about urban and rural life in Belfast and County Antrim at the turn of the century.  Highlights included my mom and I eating soda bread we found sitting on the kitchen table in a demonstration house (clearly free samples) and petting the hens in one of the farm areas.

Giant’s Causeway.  You know all about this, but now I’ve been three times in total, and explored Dunluce Castle (Cair Paravel), which was a dream.  I think they ought to let you camp inside the ruins during the summer months.

Kelsey on the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge.

Dublin.  On my second trip to Dublin, Kelsey and I visited the National Leprechaun Museum (a pure delight), toured the Guinness Storehouse (where I discovered the Guinness tastes MUCH better than in an ordinary Belfast pub) and went on a literary pub crawl, led by two hilarious and knowledgeable actors who performed excerpts  from Joyce, Beckett, Plunkett and many more.  We stayed the night in the lovely Globetrotters Hostel, had a full fry in the morning (minus the meat for me) and went on a Mary Gibbons tour to Newgrange and the Hill of Tara.  Both were amazing!  Standing on the Hill of Tara, where the ancient Kings of Ireland were crowned,  took our breath away.  There is an incredible energy about the place, and you can see practically all of Ireland!

I’m enjoying more sunny weather in Belfast, and I’ll be traveling more in the Republic soon.  Trip planning begins now, so feel free to post suggestions if you’ve been somewhere in Ireland I shouldn’t miss out on!

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Adventures in Amsterdam

Get ready…We’re going to go back in time.  Since my original blogging-on-the-continent plan flopped, I’ll be interspersing my Northern Irish blogs with chapters about my spring vacation!  So first, some more on Amsterdam.

Kathryn and I enjoyed our sightseeing in Amsterdam, and there is much to recommend about this beautiful city!  Each morning, we awoke to the sounds of church bells playing elaborate melodies; as Kathryn remarked, “The buildings sing!”

We got up with some pretty early churchbells Tuesday morning, with the goal of getting ahead of the crowd at the Anne Frank Huis.  It was a lovely morning to walk along the canals, stopping every so often to squint at our map, until we found the museum at about 8:40 am.  It was still twenty minutes before the house opened, but there was already a line forming!  We were glad we had planned ahead and didn’t have to wait too long.

It’s been a while since I last read Anne Frank’s diary, and the exhibits reminded me of how thoughtful, honest and articulate Anne’s writing was.  And is, truly, as people have engaged with her words for sixty-five years now, in over seventy translations.   Her story forces the tragedy of the Holocaust into sharp focus, allowing readers to get to know one bright, young mind who was lost forever in that colossal horror.

At the same time, it is a delight to know how charming and funny and wise Anne was in her writing even in the worst of circumstances.  As a writer myself, I found it incredibly moving to stand in the rooms where Anne wrote and to see the red plaid clothbound diary in which she began her now famous diary.  I also loved seeing the pictures she writes about in her diary that she posted on the walls of the room she shared with Margot: fashion ads, nature photographs, pictures of celebrities like Ginger Rogers and the baby Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, to name a few.

After Anne Frank, we revived our tired selves with coffee and went to find a far less serious museum: Kattenkabinet, an old house filled with famous cat art.  Part of the draw of this museum was that two real cats actually live there, but they were hiding in the garden when we visited.

We  bought our cat-themed postcards at Kattenkabinet, then had a simple but delicious lunch at Toos and Roos (meaning uncertain): Dutch cheese sandwiches with arugula salad, sweet chutney and warm pumpkin soup.

Continuing the theme of small, quirky museums, we then headed for the Houseboatmuseum, an actual houseboat that’s no longer occupied so that tourists can visit.  I happen to love small, cozy spaces, so I was ready to move into a houseboat!  They have electricity and running water; the only downside is that houseboats require a lot more maintenance than the average house.

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the pretty Jordaan neighborhood, eating ice cream and stroopwafels  (sweet wafers filled with syrup).  On our way back to our hostel, we stumbled upon De Oude Kerk (The Old Church), which is a stunning church dating back before the Reformation.  It was originally Catholic, of course, but later was turned over to “the same kind of Protestants as you have in Northern Ireland!” as the docent told us.  Interesting.

We’ll move forward in time a bit when I blog about the next day in Amsterdam, with pictures and all….

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In Firenze!

My plan to blog a little along the way hasn’t exactly worked out, but I promise to fill you in!  I’m currently on the last leg of my journey, in Florence with fellow Scottie Emma Kearney, an Art History major.  My association with Florence up until this point has been the Broadway musical The Light in the Piazza, but I must say that it’s not entirely unlike the romanticized version in my head.  Tuscany is beautiful, and I have already eaten quite a bit of delicious pasta, pizza and gelato.  I’m getting reading to go see Michelangelo’s David in about an hour, after which we’ll tour the Uffizi Gallery, which according to Emma contains, “about 50 percent of Florence’s art.”

Yesterday was a fun day as well.  I slept in after getting to Florence by plane and train Tuesday evening, then met Emma and two of her roommates at the Duomo, which we climbed for an incredible view of Florence.  We ate delicious panini for lunch, then had tea and warmed up in Emma’s gorgeous apartment (it was raining).  In the afternoon, we went to the market to buy food for dinner.  We made pasta with asparagus and eggplant, which we ate with salad and goat’s cheese.  Then we got inspired.  With the assistance of Emma’s roommate Fran, who’s taking an Italian cooking class, we made pear pecorino tortellini with truffle oil and balsamic cream!  It was stunning.  I can’t wait to show you the pictures of making (and eating) the tortellini!

Just to recap and give you a taste of the what’s to come in my blog, after Amsterdam Kathryn and I spent a day in Brussels, a day in Rennes with our friend Sally, three days in Paris with Sally and three days in London with yet another Scottie, Uyen.  Kathryn flew back to Belfast and took the train to Coleraine, while I flew to Madrid to visit my cousin Anna Burns.  From Madrid, I flew to Pisa and took the train to Florence.

Stay tuned for more Florentine and generally European adventures! 🙂