Mitchell Scholar Blogs

Backpacking, an Ambassador-christened Road Trip, and chasing a promise for Irish peatlands.

Dublin 04, UCD Village.

This St. Patrick’s eve all is quiet, except for the typing flurry of we UCD’ers sequestered from the craic to finish midterm assignments. I sit with them, typing this stream of consciousness. If it gets past editing buckle your crios sábhála. Unless you also prefer two wheels, in that case fasten the ripcord of your inflatable airbag to the vehicle. Don’t break down on the N6 like I did shortly after Aadi took this photo:

In Medias Res: Table Mountain Summit, Wicklow.

After 12 hours of walking between the first two days, I managed the first 24 miles towards Lugnaquilla from Sorrell Hill. That felt like an accomplishment given lack of a trail & abundance of blanket bog. The route was miserable from my feet sinking into wet ground, but beautiful from hitting the highest points in Wicklow. Holy solid ground was found at Table Mtn. where clouds parted, sending rays of fading light over the IDF’s temporarily dormant Glen of Imaal artillery range. I didn’t want to wild-camp near the summit, but it was dry. There a blistering wind whipped my tent and brought enough ice pellets to cause suspicion. It had not rained that week yet…

Howling over the ridge the wind quoted Yeats into my gut: “Bolt and Bar the shudder, for the fowl winds blow: Our minds are at their best this night, And I seem to know, that everything outside us, is Mad as the mist and snow”.

I quickly pulled stones from the ground and stacked piles onto the tent stakes. Sphagnum moss in blanket bogs can hold 20-times it’s own weight in water. Irish wind had dried it out. Grabbing some for insulation I quickly lined the bottom permitter of my tent inside & out and plugged all the vents to prepare for the worst. After a feast of ramen and prayer to get through, I buried into my sleeping bag under a mylar blanket. The blanket was blowing inside the tent as the walls shook.

Even Glenomena sounded nice but my dreams went back to this scene of the last Dublin Mitchell visit to Galway at the office of Watkins & Barton:

It was 3:45 AM on the mountain. I was dreaming of warm places from Galway to playing trad sessions next to the fireplace of the Monkstown Comhaltas… then suddenly I heard crunching footsteps. Next was the voice of a concerned Irish woman: “Guys…. Tent.”. Someone spoke over the wind, “Do you think someone is in there ?!?” Of course there was. What I didn’t understand is what group of people would be outside my tent at that hour, on a trail they would have started no later than 1:00am. But they wondered similar of me. Later, morning broke to reveal their concern. My moss insulation froze to the tent with a sheet of ice. To put on my shoes I had to take a butane stove and torch my laces to thaw them. After quickly packing up I admired that the place beneath my tent was the only soft spot of ground.

I made great time not slowing down in the bogs since they were frozen. I reached Lugnaquilla an hour early and came down fast. Cutting through a Coillte pine stand to find no phone service, I hitchhiked a public road to Glenmalure Lodge. With a moss-covered sweater, pine needled hair, and turf thawed on my shoes, I ordered a Guinness that never came and a taxi that eventually did. I was asleep in Dublin before dark. Getting through that surely I can get my thesis done early.

What I did not complete the next week was driving a mid-sized SUV through Conor pass in Dingle when family visited. There are a few benefits to motorbikes – as soon as another car came barreling down with a wheel over the white line I moved left. Suddenly the rear left tire was punctured by a rock wall for sheep pasture. Thankfully this too was endurable. As the AA man changed the tire with an inflatable jack we reminisced on the trip which had more ahead and was already great. Somehow we stumbled upon the US Ambassador and Taoiseach at Waterford’s celebration of the first flying of the Irish flag.

The tricolor was created by French women then flown by Irish revolutionary Thomas Meagher, who later led the Irish Brigade for the Union and became governor of Montana. The celebration was joined by US ambassador Claire Cronin, ambassadors of Great Britain, France, Canada, Australia, Belgium, Ukraine, the US military, and Irish peacekeeping veterans. After meeting Leo Varadkar in a somewhat shocked state, I had an exciting family conversation with Ambassador Cronin. With US-Ireland partnerships across the 175 years since the tricolor and 25 years since the Good Friday Agreement, I shared how it has been an incredible opportunity to step into a part of that legacy that is the Mitchell program and consider the future of that collaboration. If the program can find the support it needs to keep going, it can keep providing an opportunities for scholars to solve common problems and find new opportunities for all-Ireland and the US. I hope that conversation might continue with Claire.

This led me to consider if the research I’m starting on how to capture new opportunity for Irish peatlands may have dual benefit in the US. My thesis to-be is being mentored by the director of Peatland Finance Ireland, Shane McGuinness. I’ve joined his team under Horizon Europe’s WaterLANDS project headquartered in UCD’s school of Planning, and formed a collaborative with Niall O’Brolchain and others at the Univ. Galway. We want to design and introduce a program to policymakers that might offer a new chapter for the use of rewetted peatlands in Ireland’s rural economy. It was believed that the 2018 turf-cutting bans (now partially failing), and calls to ban horticulture peat in Ireland, left no economic alternative for peat harvest. Let alone one in sync with peatland rewetting. The Bord na Mona seasonal income that families would use to send students to college, or help pay the bills, suddenly disappeared…before this cost of living crisis. But, there is an alternative relatively nobody knows about – yet. German projects partnered with EU programs have created commercial moss farms on rewetted peatlands. Market demands paying up to 30k EUR per hectare exceed the supply. Thanks to the work of peatland partners in Brussels, under EU law Ireland could design a program under it’s CAP strategic plan supporting moss farming. That design is what my thesis outline is aimed at recommending, which I need to submit now. I have a hunch that the work might give insight to how President Biden’s 30 for 30 plan could revive peatland carbon sinks and rural economies in the northern US. Now I’m off for more typing, and responding to an email from a few weeks ago that starts with “Hello from Germany”….

The first day of school is the worst.

The first day of school is the worst. I can’t stand it. I really can’t. Something about walking the paths of campus and suddenly feeling cramped really ticks me off. It’s like when your parents decide to host Thanksgiving and as a result, you now have to gracefully avoid the piercing “how is school” and “where are you working now” from hundreds of aunties and uncles you’ve never met before. I hate it. 

The nice thing about coming back to school though is that all of a sudden my day has way more structure. Things have a natural order to them. Which means I also need to be a bit more intentional about making time for the things I enjoy; reading, music, exercise, and time with friends, of course.

Things I learned on the last first day of school.

Things I learned on the last first day of school. Don’t check Instagram. Sit in the front of class to start off the semester attentively and focused. Sit away from friends. 

It took me twenty years of school to learn this by the way. Answer questions on the first day to set a precedent of answering questions. Don’t check Instagram. Smart ideas I have often come from repurposing old ideas or patterns I’ve been exposed to. Sometimes they come from combining multiple ideas in a new and unique way. I guess this is the basis of creativity; mixing old ideas in a new way depending on the external context.  So, what does this mean for me? Absorb more smart information that makes me think. Read more. Listen more. I guess what they teach you to do in primary school really is true. Okay, back to first-day-of-school epiphanies. Talk to people so they include you in their group projects. The only time to check Instagram is to add the new friends you met in class. I guess the first day of school is really about setting a precedent for yourself. For laying the foundation of how you’ll approach and act for the rest of the semester. 

“Haven’t I driven you before?”

I’d just gotten off an eight hour flight and a two hour bus ride, heaved my overstuffed carry-on into the trunk of an Uber, and collapsed into the backseat, bleary eyed and barely sentient. The driver, punching the address of my dorm into his navigation app, examined me through the rearview mirror. He’d recognized me. And, after a long, groggy moment, I’d recognized him. He was the same driver who’d picked me up when I first moved to Belfast four months earlier, what felt like a clichéd lifetime ago.

I watched the gray Belfast landscape go past on that rainy January day, dimly aware that I was returning to familiar surroundings. It was a far cry from the night in September when the same driver had picked me up from the Belfast airport (complete with Tayto-themed taxi stand) and brought me through the night to see my new home for the first time.

I had no idea what was waiting for me on that first Uber ride. When I think back now on how nervous I was to move here, it feels almost silly – but there was so much I didn’t know then. I didn’t know that the second I stepped into my dorm building I would be greeted by two of my housemates, and that we would spend hours talking before I even opened my suitcases. I didn’t know how quickly my classmates would become my friends, or how much laughter we would share about everything from Derry Girls to kitchen mishaps. I had briefly met my fellow Mitchell scholars already, but I didn’t know if I’d be lucky enough to form lasting friendships.

I was, indeed, very lucky. My fellow Belfast Mitchells Asha and Gil have become a fixture in my life here (along with our friend Ellie, who has now been mentioned in these blog posts enough that she should get her own). Our friendships have been forged through late nights in study rooms, being sick together in Edinburgh, and inside jokes involving eyebrows being burned off.

I got lucky in terms of my academics too. The Trinity program in Belfast is a unique experience, and I never would have gotten to study conflict in a small-group setting like this if I hadn’t found this opportunity through the Mitchell Scholarship. The bespoke nature of the program means that I have more flexibility to make what I want out of it, and I’m taking advantage of that by tailoring my dissertation topic to fit my specific interests. I plan to write about the role of misinformation in the United States, which will bring me full circle to the type of work I was doing for the Surgeon General before I started my Mitchell year.

All of this was going through my head as I chatted with my Uber driver on my way to start the spring semester. “Last time I picked you up, you were just starting your course,” he said. “How have you been liking it?”

I looked outside as we passed the Queen’s campus, where I spend so much of my time, then back at him in the rearview mirror.

“It’s been wonderful.”

Galway is pretty dark and rainy this time of year. So here are a list of all things bright and warm:

1. Sea Swim Cure! Ali and I jumped in the ocean on Monday. It had been a while for me—I am no Blackrock regular like Ali. However cold you can imagine the North Atlantic is right now, double it. Nevertheless, I hate to report that it did in fact cure my every ailment and solve all my problems. 

2. Ali lets me tag along when she plays the open mic at a pub in town. In between questionable poetry and bog themed dj sets she TEARS DOWN THE HOUSE. What can’t this woman do???

3. Ok this one is cheating a bit as it is not actually about Galway. But living here gives me access to Ryanair and thus weekend trips to the continent. I spent two really lovely weekends in January and February meeting up with friends in the south of France and western Spain—a sentence I can’t believe really just came out of my mouth. 

4. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: running along the ocean is pure bliss. The wind and the rain and the hail is giving me a run for my money, but it’s always worth it. The tides, the clouds, sometimes even the sun on your face?? BLISS

5. I’ve been taking the long way home from the University whenever I can. Walking along the quieter canal off the Corrib River is when I feel most like I am in an ancient city.

6. I’ve found some folks to watch The Bachelor with! Every Tuesday evening we come together to heckle and cringe and it is delightful. 

7. We had a pretty consistent stream of visitors over the last two months! An eclectic mix of Mitchells, old friends, and new friends made sure that even in the depths of winter, there is never a dull moment on Whitestrand Ave!! 

9. Ali’s unflinching, big big love for the Eagles made me sit up and pay attention this Super Bowl season. On the day they won the game that secured their spot I couldn’t have told you for sure if they were a football or a baseball team. Two weeks later, on the morning of Super Bowl Sunday, I was lighting candles for their coach, star players, and Ali’s grandma in our local church. 

Laws are critical regulators of science and technology. Local and international laws can ensure that the products of scientific advancement are implemented in a safe and socially responsible manner. Science, technology, and the legal system are highly complex interactive systems that merit an interdisciplinary understanding to ensure the benefits of scientific and technological advancements are reaped in a manner that best shields society from the danger posed by such advancements. 

To enhance my understanding of the complex legal questions underlying the neuroscience and engineering advancements in my field, I’ve been auditing an international law and intellectual property course. One of the largest difficulties continually confronted in the legal field, is how legal systems can keep pace with rapid advancements in technology and science. These difficulties are compounded by the numerous legal entities attempting to differently regulate these technological and scientific advancements on local, federal, and international levels. 

These complexities have been well illuminated by issues of legal ownership. Prior to my time in Ireland, my conceptualization of ownership was filtered through my education and lifetime in the U.S. lens, where intellectual property ownership is largely viewed as the inherent right of the creator to sole ownership of their ideas. Although similar general principles underlie ownership here in Ireland and Europe, there are some important differences, like moral rights. Moral rights largely protect two rights: the right of a creator to claim authorship and the right for this creator to object to distortion of their work that could harm their reputation. In Europe moral rights are inalienable and non-transferable, in the U.S. such rights are frequently transferable. Although moral rights traditionally are associated with creative products, they have new interests relevant with the creative products generated utilizing modern technology and science tools. Ambiguity over if a creator can object to the utilization of their technology for purposes they feel are unethical or who has moral rights over the creative outputs of products generated primarily with machine learning and open source intelligence. 

More broadly, recent widespread use of accessible artificial intelligence (AI) is challenging concepts of legal ownership across legal systems at all levels. These tools raise unique challenges with numerous elements of legal ownership. Some important emerging questions include: If open source software is used in the training of AI-generated outputs, does ownership need to be provided to the creators of the training materials? Who should receive ownership of AI-generated work? How can legal systems continue to evolve at speed comparable to AI? And, what regulations need to be imposed to ensure ethical and safe use of AI? 

Societal use of technological and scientific advancement depend on legal systems to ensure best use practices. As we continue to develop and use such advancements, I look forward to utilizing an international and interdisciplinary understanding to ensure the advantages of these advancements are appropriately contextualized along their practical concerns and limitations. 

Please enjoy some of my more creative work here from my time exploring Ireland. Note: all moral rights for these images belong to Max Wragan.

“Well I found my Uncle Dan McCann,
Very good for a shantyman,
He has a seat in Congress, and he’s saviour of his clan
He helps to write America’s laws,
But his heart and soul is in Ireland’s cause,
God help the man who opens his jaws
To my Uncle Dan McCann!”
– My Uncle Dan McCann by Mick Moloney

Dear Reader,

I’ve been thinking a lot about Irish American political influence and assimilation lately. The stanza I chose for this entry is from “Far From the Shamrock Shore: The Irish American Experience in Song” by Mick Moloney. The song the stanza is blends real and idealized aspects of mid-19^th century Irish immigration to America. Dan McCann, the narrator’s fictional uncle, possesses the traits frequently attributed to Irish immigrants of the time: he is boastful, physically suited to hard labor, and inclined towards singing and dancing. The turning point of our protagonist comes with the outbreak of the Civil War, where he enlists with the Irish Brigade (“the Fighting 69^th“) whose exploits are covered both positively and negatively in many other songs of the time.

The Civil War was a turning point for the Irish because their service, which occurred mostly on the Union with some degree of reluctance, enabled them to assert themselves more confidently in political and social life. This coincided with the emergence of machine politics in many urban centers where the Irish were concentrated. Among others, these factors helped the Irish win political struggles against the nativist coalitions that had long opposed their presence, sometimes violently. This sense of upward mobility and the willingness to defend it is where we last see Uncle Dan in the song. He is at once a loyal American and an Irish patriot, a sophisticated congressman and a hardened fighter.

While these extremes may seem like contradictions, they accurately depict the complicated path assimilation often takes. Over time, immigrant groups struggle for acceptance, often have to shed blood to earn it, and after several generations some of their descendants end up arguing for the same restrictionist policies that their forefathers struggled against. The Irish experience is relevant because more recent immigrant groups continue to follow this cycle despite greatly changed geography, conditions, and circumstances.

Today, Irish Americans play a part not only in U.S. politics but also on politics in the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. With the 25^th anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement coming up, American investment in the future of the island is demonstrated by the attendance of several prominent public figures in the celebrations.

In other news, I’ve continued to enjoy the conversations and exposures to new perspectives and activities by the friends I’ve made here. Whether it’s dialogues about the role of social media with Asha, insights on class dynamics from Sarah, lectures on Oscar Wilde delivered by Mál, or wide ranging and dubiously connected rants with Ellie, my time here has been greatly enriched by the people the Mitchell program has connected and re-connected me with.

I am amused and in awe of how quickly our worlds can change and grow and look and feel unrecognizable. In my last blog I was characterizing the tension I’d felt after a difficult adjustment to life in Belfast and a necessary return home for six weeks. I’m actually writing this blog from the States again, as I’m finishing up a short visit to WashU in St. Louis, the place I will call home right after my Mitchell year, and where I’ll be getting my PhD!

The past month and a half since getting back to Belfast and getting into the swing of things has been a dramatic difference from my first semester. I started an internship at Linen Hall Library where I’m working with Lynda Walker’s personal archive, sorting through tons of documents from projects she organized as a women’s right’s activist in the 80’s and 90’s. It is tedious work, but it’s been so interesting to think about the politics of memory through such a tactile experience.

My friends have shown up for me in so many tender ways. We got to visit Corrymeela, a bucket list item for me as so many of my friends from undergrad have been. I’ve been running lots of random road races in nearby counties (and even in Scotland!) with my friends, and we’ve even started a wee run club between the few of us to do a chatty run around the city on Saturdays. Sarah, Gil, our favorite American friend (who is basically an adopted Belfast Mitchell at this point), Ellie, and I went to Edinburgh early in February where we spent the weekend mostly drinking tea and sucking lozenges in our airbnb because we’d all come down with massive colds. (Except Gil who somehow never gets sick.) Somehow I even convinced Ellie and Gil (my least Gen-Z friends) to go to a The 1975 concert when they came to Belfast. (Long story short: see photo. Ha!) My friends from Sarah’s program even hosted a sweet Galentine’s day brunch where we ate Sarah’s homemade frittata and french toast and held space for each other. And Ellie, Gil, Sarah and I started a book club (which is more of an excuse to go to a restaurant every week) where we’re reading the Great Gatsby (as per Sarah’s request.)

And in between these sweet moments with friends, I’ve begun to build relationships with faculty as well who have shown up for me in unexpected ways. I recently got to co-chair an event with a friend where we got to be in conversation with Mary Phillips, a cool scholar from New York who is writing a book on women in the Black Panther Party, and Ericka Huggins, a former leader in the Black Panther Party who was imprisoned with Bobby Seale. To be in touch with Black women, especially such admirable and inspiring women who reflect very important values and aspirations in my life as a scholar and an activist, and to get to know them in a place where I have felt largely isolated from people who look like and experience the world in similar ways to me was such a gift. 

So, I am doing well. And my orientation to Belfast and my understanding of my time here has shifted significantly from my last blog not only because of my wealth of good experiences lately, but also because I know my next steps. I catch myself getting ahead of myself, looking too far into the future, wishing I could fast-forward to August when I will begin this next huge adventure of my life. But then I remember: I’ve got less than 150 days here (even less by the time you’re reading this.) There’s still so much to do and explore here. So much to appreciate and to wonder at. And many, many more jokes to laugh at between me, Sarah, Gil, and Ellie. That is what I think about most when I realize how quickly the time is getting away from me, and how soon my life will be changing again. I’ll miss them the most.

As I start this blog I’m in the Nashville airport headed back to Dublin by way of Toronto. It was an enjoyable time with family during winter break to recharge, and return once again to this terminal. It seems that each time I am here around 1 in 7 people on this flight are wearing cowboy hats. It was around that ratio, if not more, in Dublin when Garth Brooks appeared for his tour last semester. I’m not a major Garth Brooks fan and prefer Alan Jackson – but in this moment as I return to Ireland, I feel something similar to Garth when he finally set foot on stage in Dublin. His tour was cancelled in 2014 due to a Dublin city code violation, and when he arrived in 2022 he was supposedly weeping as he told the Irish crowd he had finally arrived “to raise hell”.

I don’t expect any similarity to that moment whatsoever when I step off my plane – no weeping, hell will stay asunder, and I will probably take a nap as soon as I can which I fear might delay this blog. But in the same spirit of Garth’s return, cowboy hat aside I have a Garth-esque anticipation for the new missions I hope to accomplish in Ireland this semester and in the New Year. I’ve also learned it’s important to keep an open mind and value the journey regardless of where it goes and what is accomplished. Regardless of the destination I reach in research and academics, I am looking forward to growing connections with friends and new experiences. Now that I have camping gear loaded to the motorbike, that will include some multi-day backpacking in Wicklow and Ring of Kerry. I also hope to grow my skills enough to play fiddle in the Cobblestone, which I think I may attempt first through the Christian Student Union at UCD. It is good to start some things in an atmosphere of forgiveness.

The last semester was about getting my bearings for the Mitchell journey (in one case actually checking bearings with Swati), growing deeper in new friendships out of the shared experience of finding a new Ireland, and making new connections – from Bray to Buncranna.

New connections have brought new opportunities for the New Year. That has included growing closer with those in the Public Policy program at UCD, all of whom embody good craic. Their craic collectively built up to a new pinnacle at the MPP Christmas Party.

As for the nobility in this photograph – I was not familiar with the Christmas cracker tradition. They are like two-sided party poppers where one person is left with a prize, in this case a paper crown. It’s like a vegan alternative to a turkey wishbone, but with a better prize. Once crowned the Irish nobility declared an unofficial afterparty elsewhere in city center. It lasted past 5am – I simply could not keep up and went home early. That said, there are opportunities in the New Year where Ireland and America would benefit from keeping up with each other.

I have felt that being a Mitchell Scholar can bring an opportunity to serve as a miniature ambassador of sorts for exchanging ideas that would foster mutual benefit to the US and Ireland. A chance for that presented itself when I was able to reach an agreement with a sustainable bio/agri-tech startup in Kentucky to find potential candidates for their technology in Ireland, which I am excited to continue attempting through the New Year. Instead of feeding spent grain wastes from the whiskey and brewing industry to Ireland’s dairy industry which results in methane emission, this technology originally developed for similar bourbon industry wastes can upcycle spent grain into marketable sugar and activated carbon products along with a higher protein source for livestock. The key application is this would add revenue to the front end of renewable biogas production which is now being invested in due to the energy crisis, and would also have promise of being a feasible way to “reduce the herd” in Ireland by allowing new market benefits and managing the spent grain waste that would be left from herd reduction. Implementing this solution in Ireland would require collaboration from multiple industries willing to have a mindset of cooperative and intersecting sustainability, which is worth promoting. In 2022 the potential of this tech led to my first “whiskey mission” and will hopefully lead to more in 2023. Thanks to a mutual connection, Chris Armstrong, Aadi joined the trip and we met the President of the Craft Irish Whiskey Association, Stuart McNamara, at Sean’s bar of Athlone- the oldest pub in Ireland. Stuart is an Irish peacekeeping forces veteran from the signal corps, and was a sailor. His Captain first introduced him to the craft of whiskey. Ironically, our train was an hour late due to signal failure – so our focus gradually became more about making the connection instead of soliciting interests and ironing out details to transfer the startup tech to Ireland.

Through the door of Sean’s bar, we made a valuable connection with the door to the craft whiskey industry. We soaked in stories ranging from the best whiskies to try, good and bad methods to start and finance a distillery in Ireland, and the interesting legal battle involving the USPTO that created the craft association separate from global brands. Eventually we learned about Stuart’s own Portmagee whiskey brand, named after a sailor who used Skellig island for smuggling. Skellig was once a sight for dumping cargo on the beach, paying only a portion of British taxes in port near Dingle, then retrieving the rest of the haul later on the way to Portmagee. I wonder if the monks had still been there if they would have said anything – if it were whiskey cargo that may have been unlikely. At the end of our meeting the manager, Timmy, joined us and provided great historical oratory which will soon be available in a Netflix documentary on the story of whiskey in the world. The documentary will include the story of how Athlone and Sean’s bar is at the birthplace of whiskey on the Shannon which goes back to the monks of Lough Ree. After discovering fast drunkedness from high-proof alcohol, the monks thought whiskey was holy water which they called “uisce beatha” in Galeige. It is said others gradually shortened and misinterpreted this to “whiskey”. Perhaps there will be a new chapter of sustainability in the story of uisce beatha that could be said to have started at the same place on the Shannon.

Ireland could not be a land of whiskey if not first a land of water. It is a land of wetlands, which leads to my other mission for the New Year that I will end with. Towards the end of the semester as a Mitchell Scholar I was granted affiliation as an environmental policy researcher with a group known as WaterLANDS – a major EU Commission funded group leading peatland restoration efforts across Europe and serving as one member of a larger advisory group under the Green Deal to Brussels. Their affiliated researchers in Germany have commercially developed a method of moss farming (Sphagnum paludiculture) which would have promise in Ireland to accomplish rewetting goals while allowing a portion of Ireland’s lost labor and market from peatlands to return in a new sustainable ways. Ireland has not yet built the capacity to lead and innovate in this area despite major potential benefit for the midlands, inclusion of paludiculture in the next Common Agriculture Policy, and budgetary capacity to afford expandable pilot projects. I’m now in charge of trying to find a policy solution that would create those projects and a strategy to expand the practice in Ireland. To do it, I’ve partnered with former mayor of Galway and Seanad member Niall O’Brolchain which may become a journey of its own. For length and peat’s sake, I’ll save more on that for the next post. With a Garth-esque anxt I now begin a sprint down new paths for sustainability, just transition, and personal growth from Ireland to German moss farms. With an open mind I look forward to these new paths, new connections, and new craic 2023 will hold.

“I remember the night that he came in from the wintery cold and damp
A giant of a man in an oilskin coat and the bundle that told he was a tramp
He stood at the bar and he called a pint then turned and gazed at the fire
On a night like this to be safe and dry is my one and only desire!”
– “Donegal Danny” by The Dubliners

Dear Reader,

Belfast changes dramatically in the winter. As regional and international students leave campus, the surrounding area suddenly becomes more sparse and more insular. Without any real warning, one day you notice that someone has put Christmas lights in all the shops you frequent, the comfortable din in your study spaces has gone quiet, and your recommended ads have been suspiciously infiltrated by seasonal affective disorder lamps.

Despite these changes and my obligatory grumbling about the cold, I found much to be grateful for in these past few months. As the fall semester came to a close, Asha, Sarah, and I had the opportunity to connect with Winnie Li, a Mitchell Scholar from the class of 2001. Winnie was visiting to participate in a panel at Queen’s and stopped by a local bookstore to discuss her latest novel, Complicit. After Winnie’s talk, the group of us grabbed dinner and talked about everything ranging from upbringings, culture clashes, DNA ancestry tests, and our friend Ellie’s deep love for dessert.

While it may sound like a relatively routine evening, it underscored some of the core components of what makes the Mitchell Scholarship unique. Taken together, the four of us had relatively little in common across most of the aspects people usually derive meaning and identity from. That four Americans with such disparate backgrounds could be brought together by an interest in Ireland despite not having any recent family ties there speaks to the enduring relevance the island has in the contemporary American imagination.

The evening was also a promising example of the Mitchell alumni network. Even before I left the States, I had calls and coffees with previous scholars who were excited to share their experiences and offer advice. Plenty of organizations have a wide array of impressive and accomplished alumni, but the small size of the Mitchell cohorts, and of the institutions we go to, has made it much easier to connect with people who may otherwise seem intimidating or inaccessible.

Winter also brought new opportunities to host and to visit. Tourism in Ireland is typically associated with St. Patrick’s Day or the warmer summer months. Convincing anyone that an island famous for its rain is worth a visit in December is a tall task. Nevertheless, from east to west and north to south, the clear cold of the winter pairs well with the long contemplative train rides, the hot whiskey toddies, and the late night conversations by the fireplace that come with travelling across the island. If you’ve come across this post because you’re thinking of applying or studying here independently, I hope you get to see for yourself.

An odyssey across my many encounters with an iconic Derry building

I first met the Guildhall of Londonderry on the night of Halloween. An early evening of torrential downpour made way for clear midnight skies, and between the parting clouds, I saw the hall’s clock tower.

Tall and orange.

(But mostly orange.)

That orange clock face watched quietly over the festivities that evening, its neo-gothic façade blending into the rest of the town’s elaborate Halloween decorations. But despite its foreboding exterior, the Guildhall seemed to invite me back.

I returned to the Guildhall of Londonderry less than two weeks later, on the second Friday of November. That night, Derry was the second stop on a winding expedition from Dublin to the village of Burnfoot in County Donegal. But at nearly an hour past midnight, we were fatigued and famished. Our attempts to flag down a train station taxi willing to drive us to the village proved futile, but across the River Foyle, I spotted the tower of the Guildhall beaming back at me.

We made our way across the Peace Bridge to the Guildhall and to our delight found a 24-hour Kebab House just across the square. Sat on the freezing stone blocks outside the hall and scarfing down chips before the seagulls could snatch them, we called a cab from one of the two taxi company phone numbers the Kebab House employee had recited for us from memory.

The next morning, we returned to the Guildhall with the intention of stepping inside. Before we made it through the entryway, however, we were stopped in our tracks by the Queen of Hearts. Or rather, we were blocked by a woman in a stunningly elaborate costume of the Queen of Hearts. As we looked out onto the square, it occurred to us that nearly everyone in the square was dressed in high-quality Alice and Wonderland costumes. After mustering up the courage to ask the Queen of Hearts why everyone in Derry had seemingly stepped out of the storybook, she clued us into the city-wide outdoor puzzle game running that day hosted by a puzzle app. How nearly the entire city—from the infants in Cheshire Cat onesies to the Queen of Hearts herself—managed to pull costume-quality outfits for the sake of an app’s puzzle game remains a mystery.

We eventually entered the Guildhall where we were directed to some stained-glass artwork and an exhibit on the building’s history. It detailed the building’s completion in 1890, its clock tower modeled after London’s Elizabeth tower, the terror attacks during The Troubles that destroyed most of the original building, and the city council business occurring inside through the present. Upstairs we stumbled upon the main hall with its historic pipe organ where a funeral fair was just wrapping up. Empty caskets for sale lined the room along with booths on various end-of-life topics. And the organ was already decorated for Christmas.

With the end of our first semester and the turn of the new year, I have been feeling lately that my precious time in Ireland is quickly slipping away. But sitting down to write this blog was a welcome reminder that I’ve actually made a decent dent in my Irish bucket list. Below is a brief catalog of my adventures around the Island–and I can’t wait for many more!

Killaloe, Co. Clare

In late October, one of my new Irish friends, Sarah, hosted me and another one of our friends from the law school at her home in Killaloe. Nestled on the banks of the River Shannon, Killaloe is a lovely little town that reminded me a lot of where my parents live in Northern Michigan. Sarah and her parents were incredibly kind and gracious hosts, showing us around the town by foot and boat, welcoming us into their beautiful home, and making us delicious meals. Spending the weekend with them and their lovely pups George and Rua somehow cured a bit of homesickness I was quietly I was nursing.

Donegal / Derry

In November, Ali generously invited the Mitchells to tag along as she did research for her book in the North. While Ali was off muckraking, the small collection of Mitchells who made the trip spent a memorable day exploring Derry. The highlights included getting lost in the mall, a funeral convention in the town hall, excellent Mexican food, and many Derry Girls fangirl moments. Spending time with the Mitchells is always a treat, but this goofy little trip was especially so. I feel so lucky to have such a fun group to go call upon for random adventures!

Co. Kerry

Over Christmas, I was incredibly lucky to have my family visit me. We took a road trip around Kerry, stopping on the beautiful Valencia Island (pictures below). Being able to share my life as well as explore new areas in Ireland was really special. My parents immediately began planning this trip when they found out I got the Mitchell so we’d been looking forward to this for a long time.

No one ever wants to see that second line appear on their COVID test. I can attest that this is an especially unpleasant experience the day before you’re supposed to get on a transatlantic flight. It’s a situation that has landed me in my parents’ basement-turned-isolation-ward, rather than returning to Belfast as I had hoped to be doing.

The good news is that I’m completely fine so far health-wise (shout-out to the bivalent booster for preparing my immune system – have you gotten yours yet?). The bad news is that I’m just about crawling up the walls from boredom.

I’d like to say that this newfound free time has led to some epiphanies and profound reflections about my hopes for the new year. The truth is that at the moment I don’t have much in the way of profound thoughts, but I do miss Belfast. I miss the late-night conversations and Fleabag watch sessions with my housemates. I miss the feeling of leaving a classroom questioning what I thought I knew. I miss the warm glow of candle-lit pubs filled with the twang of a fiddle playing Irish music. I miss the way everyone in Belfast seems to know each other, which turns introductions into a game of discovering which friends you have in common.

There’s also plenty to look forward to in the semester ahead. I’m excited to start work on my dissertation, dive into my internship at a youth development organization, and travel to new parts of the island. I want to do more hiking when the weather improves, and maybe even try outdoor rock climbing (which still mildly terrifies me, even after plenty of practice on the indoor rock climbing wall).

Before I caught COVID, being back in Boston gave me the chance to catch up with my family and friends. As wonderful as it’s been to revisit my old life here, I’m left feeling even more grateful for my Mitchell year. I spent the last few years working in government on coronavirus response, and I don’t know a single person from that world who isn’t working through their burnout right now. Talking to old friends has helped me to appreciate how much things have changed for me this past year. I don’t know if it’s the change of scenery, the stimulating intellectual atmosphere, or the fact that I now get to just be responsible for my own education for a while instead of feeling responsible for the world – but something about being in Belfast has been restorative for me.

In my underground, makeshift COVID isolation room, the hours and days blur together. As I wait for the two lines on my COVID test to become one, I console myself with the knowledge that soon I’ll be back in Belfast, where each day offers something different and new to discover. I’ll think back to this period of sameness and boredom and use it as a reminder to say yes to as many new experiences as possible.