Mitchell Scholar Blogs

Horseback riding across Ireland for the day

Before I started my Mitchell year in Ireland, I had a goal to find time away from my academic and professional requirements to travel around the country and see as much of it as possible. I was able to make this goal come true over the past few weeks. When the holidays began, I embarked on a journey across Ireland with a group of friends I made at Maynooth. We rented a car and began our journey in Dublin. Over the next few weeks we were able to travel the coastline, major cities, and historic landmarks all around Ireland. Initially, we were nervous the weather would play against us, however we were able to find stretches of sunlight that supported our adventures. One of the best parts of the journey was that it was pseudo-planned. We had a rough idea of where we wanted to end up on certain days, but we also left a lot of time open to make up as we go. Beyond traveling, we were able to experience wonderful activities that include; horseback riding, whale watching, traditional seaweed baths, climbing mountains, and scenic trail walks. We also played golf at various resorts including the opportunity to drive biodegradable(fish food) golf balls into the ocean.

My favorite city on our trip was Waterford. It is a city located in the South-East of Ireland. We stumbled upon it from a tour book that introduced it as Ireland’s oldest city – celebrating its 1100 anniversary in 2014 – with a history that dates back to Viking times. This was quite evident when we arrived, passing Viking inspired boats, museums, and even restaurants. I highly recommend a visit to the so-called Viking Triangle, where there are museums that give an overview of Ireland’s rich history of the Middle Ages. After learning about the history, we visited one of the most iconic areas in Ireland, the House of Waterford Crystal. We toured the factory, met with designers, and were able to find pieces within our price range to purchase!

Waterford Crystal Dining set(every piece even the food is made out of crystals)

Beyond the city, we found a beautiful castle to rent out and experience. We stayed at the Waterford Castle Hotel and Golf resort for a few days. This resort is on the River Suir and as a private island completely detached from the mainland, it required a ferry to bring us over. It was the first castle I’ve stayed in while in Ireland and the stunning views alone would bring me back. It also had a beautiful scenic walk that took us around the edges of the Island.

Ending to our epic adventure around Ireland brought us back to Waterford. We had the opportunity to stay at the Cliff House Hotel, one of the finest luxury five-stars hotels I’ve ever stayed in, with Michelin star food, penthouse, a private pool, and a Jacuzzi outside on the roof for us to enjoy. I remember watching the sun set and knowing that our sore bodies from all the traveling would recover with time, but thankfully the memories would be preserved. I cant wait for the next adventure, and I recommend anyone who comes to Ireland to get out of the city and truly experience all that Ireland has to offer. It is a small Island, but you can spend a lifetime trying to see all its beauty.

Climbing a mountain

Last week, while I was back in North Carolina over Christmas break, my grandfather turned 80.

Now, you may think this is a fairly normal event, and that’s because it is.  As I get older, my grandfather gets older at the exact same rate, so at some point it would make sense that he would turn 80. However, this is PAPA (as he is affectionately known to everyone) who we’re talking about. This is the Papa that attended roughly every game I’ve ever played in, at every level I’ve ever played, for every second that I played—and has done so for every grandchild that he has.  This is the Papa whose devotion to his family is beyond incredible, and seems to have no limit to how far he will go for his loved ones. I think 80 sounds old.  Could Papa be OLD? Unbelievable.

Now for some background, Papa has an incredibly cool life story. He was born in Plociczno-Tartak, a little village in northeastern Poland, sometime in November 1935 (though his birthday is in January because his parents wanted him to be drafted later, so they waited until 1936 to register his birth). He lived under Nazi occupation from 1939-1944, until his family was forced to flee into Germany to avoid the advancing Soviet army (his father was a leader in the Ukrainian War of Independence from 1917-1921, and would have been executed by any Soviet forces). He spent a summer working on a farm in East Prussia, before the Germans sent his family to a camp in Austria. After the war, his family slowly made their way to England and then New York and lived there until Papa, who hated New York, ran away to Cleveland at age 15. His family soon followed. In Cleveland, Papa met my Gramma, got an engineering degree, became an All-American soccer player, and did a ton of other awesome stuff I don’t have time to talk about.

Papa showing off his All-American skills, age 77. What a stud

I knew all this. I’ve talked with Papa about his life before—he’s one of my biggest heroes. However, on his 80th birthday (and with the sudden realization that he could one day be OLD), I pulled up google maps and for the first time asked him to not only tell me his story, but to show me as well.

This was an entirely new experience. With a little help (but not a lot—Papa is an engineer and knows his google), Papa was able to show me the house he grew up in Plociczno, and the well they got water from, and the school he learned to read in. And the more images we saw, the more Papa’s memories emerged. Plociczno was on a direct supply line between Berlin and Moscow, and Papa showed me the railroad tracks where German supply trains would pass by on their way to the Eastern front, often accidentally dropping ammunition on the way. He described with glee how he and his brothers would put the fallen ammunition back on the tracks, so the next train would set it off and “scare the hell” out of whatever German conductor was unfortunate enough to run over it.

Papa showed me the railroad station in Vienna where he had his first experience with Americans, as his family huddled in a cattle car (the same ones you see in holocaust documentaries) while American bombers destroyed the station, blowing up the cars on the tracks to the left and right of his but by the grace of God sparing his own.

Papa showed me Kremsmuenster, the camp in Austria where he and his mother spent five years while his brothers and father worked in nearby Linz. He showed me the spot near the river Danube, where he would sit with his father and make fun of the Russians on the other side. After the war, the US and Soviet Union split up Austria along the Danube, and Papa was fortunate enough to be on the US side, where the Russians couldn’t touch him or his father the Ukrainian rebel.

Papa even showed me Corsham, the little village in England where he learned to speak English after the war. If he rode his bike with his friends in one direction he could explore the ancient Roman town of Bath, if he went the other he could play among the stones of the giant henge of Avebury, older than even Stonehenge.

As I listened to Papa’s stories, I was struck by a couple different thoughts. First, I thought about how much Papa’s incredible devotion to family makes sense, now put into the context that family was the only thing he had for so long. Second, I thought about how fortunate I am to live in the time that I do, in the country that I do, with the family that I have.  I thought about how thankful I was that I had Papa, who endured so much so that I didn’t have to. Third, I thought about how wonderful technology can be, allowing my 80-year old grandfather to share with me his memories as a child living under Nazi occupation—even showing me the buildings and railroads—without leaving his living room. That would have been impossible even 10 years ago.

And finally, I thought about the wonderful opportunity that I have with the Mitchell scholarship, because from my home base in Ireland, I can go to all of those places that Papa can’t. I can go to Plociczno, and Kremsmuenster, and Corsham. I can see the house where he was born, and walk along the railroad tracks where he scared Germans, and sit along the Danube where he used to sit with his father. And I can send him pictures—which we both agreed was pretty awesome.

I’ve already traveled a bit during my Mitchell year. I went for a whole month around Europe before the semester started. I’ve traveled a good deal around the UK, and took a trip to Iceland as well. But I just checked, and there are $25 flights from Dublin to Warsaw, $10 trains from Warsaw to Suwalski, and 15 minute car rides from Suwalski to Plociczno. I’ll post pictures in my next blog!!

After spending the holidays with my family in the US, I flew back to Ireland a few days ago. It’s a long commute: a two hour drive to JFK, six or so hours to Dublin Airport, and then a three hour bus ride to Galway. I always find the last leg of the journey (that is, from the Galway bus station to my house) the worst part. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk, so unless it’s pouring rain, I don’t feel justified in hailing a cab. I cut a sorry figure, dragging two suitcases while carrying a heavy backpack.

Something happened on that final stretch of the commute that really made me realize how different Galway is from New York City. As I trudged along the mucky sidewalks, a man stopped me to ask if he could help. For a moment I froze while he reassured me in his pleasant Irish brogue, but after I looked at his smile and his dog, I grinned back.

In New York City, I would have been more likely to call the police than hand over my suitcase to a stranger. In Galway, with barely a second thought, I gained a casual conversation and an all-around enjoyable walk home. I’m not saying it’s a good idea to hand over your belongings just because Ireland is a generally friendly place (in fact, people say that Galway is the friendliest city in the world). But I will say that I have personally undergone an immense attitude adjustment in the last few months. In the past I would have used words like “anxious” and “serious” to describe myself. Now I feel much more open and free.

See fig. 1 for another example:

In the United States, rain was my worst enemy. I bundled up in a hood and umbrella and frowned as I slumped to class. I had three pairs of rain boots to cover every occasion. I carried emergency hair gel for when my ‘do inevitably got ruined. I spent my time in the rain feeling sorry for myself, and it rained a lot in New England.

See fig. 2 for comparison:

Both the worst and best thing about Galway is the wind. It’s terrible because umbrellas are useless and even your hood will get blown back. But after a while, I got used to getting wet on my thirty-minute walk to class. And finally, I discovered why the wind is great: I can sing as loudly as I want because nobody else on the sidewalk can hear me over the wind.

Cartoons and joking aside, I am looking forward to seeing how I will continue to change over the course of this second semester. My creative fiction teacher once commented that so few authors write about happiness – electing, instead, to focus on the absence or pursuit of happiness. I can say that right now I am happy, and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life.

I’m admittedly not a great traveler. I can’t sleep on busses or planes, and don’t handle jet lag particularly well. I am also an accomplished victim of motion-sickness. One of my finest works was vomiting for the entirety of a 9-hour car ride coming back from a family ski trip despite taking Dramamine. (Even amongst my family’s storied history of vacation illnesses, that was a Hall of Fame performance.) I also have an irrational fear of being late for planes because of a scarring experience a few years ago at JFK. Despite all of these issues, I actually like traveling, and I absolutely LOVE airports.

For my flight home from Dublin in December, I was extremely excited, so I over-prepared in grand fashion. I had enough Dramamine and snacks to last weeks, and I was at the Dublin airport well before dawn for my mid-morning flight. I couldn’t wait to spend a few hours strolling through the duty-free shops, drinking coffee, and watching planes defy gravity and take off into the sky. As luck would have it, my flight was even a bit delayed, giving me more time to relax. Little did I know, that small delay would grow. Significantly. The following is a brief account of my unexpected day at the Dublin airport:

Hours 1-2:

Security line moves swiftly. Excitement ensues. Snacks are consumed in bulk. Window shopping abounds. Podcasts are flowing. No gate assignment, no problem. A 2-hour delay isn’t so bad.

Perceived time to flight: 3 hours

Hour 3:

Sunrise! Despite a few clouds, it was exceptionally beautiful. Classic Ireland.

Perceived time to flight: 2 hours

Hours 4-5:

Lack of sleep induces tired state. Coffee remedies situation. Window shopping is completed. Gate still not assigned, flight delayed another hour and a half.

Perceived time to flight: an increasingly skeptical 2 hours

Hours 6-8:

Hunger arises. Snacks simply will not do any longer. Apologetic airline conveniently gives out vouchers for free meal! Cheeseburger consumption ensues. Flight pushed back another 2.5 hours, but we are told to complete US Customs Preclearance. Progress.

Perceived time to flight: 2 hours

Hour 9:

Dark times. Lunch has induced lethargy. Shopping options after US Customs are nonexistent. Podcast reserves have been exhausted. Phone battery approaches perilous low, all outlets have been claimed by other passengers. Luckily the delays seemed to have stopped.

Perceived time to flight: 1 hour

Hour 10:

Delayed yet again, still without explanation. The sun sets literally in the sky and figuratively on my demeanor. My love for airports has been put to the test.

Perceived time to flight: 1.5 hours

Hour 11:

Hope. The plane has arrived and boarding will begin soon. I have secured an outlet. As my phone recharges, so does my spirit. I’m going home!

—

Even though the trip wasn’t perfect, my time at home absolutely was. I was extremely fortunate to spend Christmas with my family and to ring in the New Year with many of my closest friends. While it was hard to say goodbye again to the people I missed the most, I’m excited to be back in Dublin for the rest of my Mitchell Year.

New Year’s Eve