The Global Reach of Irish Universities

Posted on May 13, 2013 by ttobin13

What can you learn about the island of Ireland 3,000 miles away ? Quite a lot, as I found out when I travelled with 4 Irish postgraduate students to the HEC Montreal Business School’s International Graduate Competition.

Montreal, Canada may not be the first place one thinks to look at the US-Ireland Trans-Atlantic relationship. For me, competing alongside four Irish peers representing an Irish university at a Canadian Competition helped me better appreciate the realities of the US-Ireland connection. I got to hear how my Irish peers saw North America, see how they felt about the on-going emigration debates, and learn about their relationship to the Irish diaspora.  Montreal itself has a proud Irish heritage, even with a three-leaf clover on its city flag. We had the opportunity to meet with the Honorary Consul General of Ireland to Montreal, Dr. Michael Kenneally of Concordia University. We met with the Irish-Canadian Chamber of Commerce, Montreal and the St. Patrick’s Society of Montreal. I got to be part of the conversation. Sitting across the table at this event in Montreal, we had folks from Dublin, Cork, Kerry, Donegal, Northern Ireland,  France, Canada, and the US each having some Craic. More than just a social experience, a trip to Montreal offered a chance to work collaboratively with my Irish university peers and cultivate relationships that I hope will last a lifetime.

The International Graduate Competition at HEC Business School Montreal is a global business competition for postgraduate students. The University College Cork (UCC) was one of only 8 universities in the world selected to compete in this prestigious competition. Our team was awarded 1st place overall and had the best written report. One of our teammates, was awarded an internship with a Canadian consultancy based on his contributions to the Competition.

(C) JPhotographie

Photo of the UCC Team at HEC IGC 2013, (C) JPhotographie

The heart of the Competition, held over the week of April 27 thru May 3, was a 48-hour case analysis. Teams were tasked with delivering a 15-minute presentation, a 30-minute presentation, and a written report for our client. The case was designed with the express intention of being difficult, according to the HEC’s main case writer for the Competition, Professor Mai Thai. Our client was a unique open-source network of producers and users of high-quality, innovative sensors.

The HEC Montreal created opportunities for collaboration and competition. This so-called ‘co-opertition’ split students along business functional groups, including Human Resources, Marketing, Entrepreneurship, and Finance. In analysing the real-world case, students worked with their functional colleagues from other universities to better understand their portion of the scenario. HEC Montreal provided access to professors in the relevant specialities as well as representatives from the organization under review.

We needed to work together as functional teams as well as within our own university. The case designers intentionally wrote the case to necessitate intra-team collaboration within this competitive environment. Case organizers gave business model information that one student participant needed to another student, whether the Marketing budget was hidden within the Entrepreneurship packet or Brand surveys was buried in the Finance materials.

As a Mitchell Scholar, the opportunity to learn and grow with and from my Irish university peers is something I will treasure. My week in Montreal taught me a great deal about global reach of Irish university education as well as the realities of the Irish diaspora.

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A Mitchell Year

Posted on May 13, 2013 by bbechtolsheim13

It is eight months since I first arrived in Ireland, and each evening, I am reminded of my first few days here. The reminder comes by way of sunlight that lingers well into the night.

It was one of the first things I noticed when I arrived last August. Even on an overcast or rainy day, even at the tail end of summer, the sun would make its presence felt late into the night.

The flipside of this latitudinal phenomenon were the fleetingly short days of winter. From December through February, the sun never seemed to fully rise. And by 4:30 in the afternoon, I would leave lectures to find all but the last traces of light extinguished from the sky.

As with any cycle, re-encountering the familiar solicits a moment for reflection. In this case, I am realizing how much my year in Ireland has been marked by two disparate themes: one of business and economics and the other of Ireland’s natural beauty.

The first of these themes absorbed my weekdays, as I went to class and did work for my MBA program. The second theme was evidenced during weekend sailing, biking, and hiking trips.

The first theme was an exploration of what we, as humans, have created and built – institutions that reach across the globe, employing millions, transforming resources, and changing patterns of everyday life. The second is an exploration of what we haven’t yet touched – miles of Irish landscape that evidence years of carving by wind and water and seem untouched by human intervention.

Ireland is an amazing place to explore the intersection of these two realms. One can travel from Dublin’s ‘silicon dock’ – the name of a commercial district of Dublin, home to the European headquarters of many multinational tech companies – to the Wicklow Mountains well inside an hour.

As humanity grows in size and affluence, we face no greater challenge than that of managing how our expanding footprint affects our planet. For me, this year has been an excellent opportunity to both explore the management of that footprint and, occasionally, attempt to escape it all together.

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Liquidation & Renewal

Posted on March 22, 2013 by bbechtolsheim13

On February 6, just before midnight, a plane carrying Ireland’s president landed at Dublin airport. It was a hastily arranged voyage, interrupting a state visit to Italy so that President Higgins could sign a piece of legislation into law. The particular bill in question had been in the works for months. However, until just hours before his plane touched down, its existence had not been reported outside the government.

Word of the bill had leaked to the press in the late afternoon. Members of parliament received their copies just before 11pm that night. They were given one hour to read the bill before debate commenced. It was a blur of events – even for those involved. At two in the morning, just before the final vote began, Ireland’s finance minister told members of parliament, “Don’t concentrate so much on the detail, look at the purpose.”

At 3am on February 7th, the Dáil (Ireland’s parliament), passed the Irish Bank Resolution Corporation Act. At 7:25am the next morning, President Higgins signed it into law. Although he was now free to return to Italy, the law was just one part of the day’s flurry of activity. For the Prime Minister and the Minister of Finance, the next several hours would see a series of swift negotiations with the European Central Bank who had closely watched the vote early that morning.

The end result of all this was the liquidation of a rather peculiar institution, a new set of agreements with the European Central Bank (ECB), and, to hear it from Ireland’s political leadership, a new lease on life for the country’s economy.

The peculiar institution that was liquidated was the Irish Bank Resolution Corporation (IBRC). The IBRC is the vestige of Anglo-Irish Bank, a bank that had helped push Ireland into financial crisis and towards a 65 Billion Euro bailout from Europe in order to guarantee the solvency of Anglo and other banks. The late-night parliamentary maneuvering had prevented IBRC’s creditors from trying to block the liquidation before it occurred.

After liquidating the bank, the ECB agreed to swap Ireland’s current commitments to its defunct banks, which required the country to shell out roughly 3 Billion Euros per annum (a payment which was set to come due on March 31st) with a set of long-term bonds that would not mature until thirty years later. (OK, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but this simple story will suffice for now).

Ultimately, the maneuver is a bet on two things: (1) that reduced austerity will lead to more economic growth and (2) that inflation will occur and that the Euros that Ireland will repay in thirty years will be worth less than Euros that would have had to be paid now. For now, Ireland has dodged its upcoming payments and, it appears, refinanced its obligations on terms that will likely prove to be much more favorable.

—

As a business school student in Europe, watching the continent negotiate its currency union has been one of the most fascinating storylines to this year. As Cyprus enters its own bailout saga, Spain and Italy teeter on the brink, and Greece tries to live up to its commitments, Ireland’s apparent navigation towards a smooth landing from its fiscal crisis appears a bright spot.

The merits of the move are being hotly debated, and the true benefits will only be revealed in time, but I can sense those around me breathing a bit easier.

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A Taste of the North

Posted on March 11, 2013 by pdekoning13

Over the last few months, I felt I had come to understand Northern Ireland after having read a few books about the Troubles and often spoken to Irish friends about the conflict. Yet nothing could have prepared me for my first experience in Belfast and Derry/Londonderry in February, over the course of a retreat with fellow Mitchell scholars. While it is immensely difficult to do justice to the complexities in the North of Ireland in a short post, I will do my best to share some of my own rudimentary impressions of the current situation.

Belfast definitely still feels like the industrial city that it grew into in the 19th century. The mostly gray and drab architecture that plagues this almost Dickensian town springs to life thanks to the colorful, diverse, and often controversial murals that have popped up on the walls of shops and homes across the city. Even though the conflict ended thanks to the peace process of the late 1990’s and the peace-building efforts of local communities, the tensions and divisions that tore this community apart remain palpable: many storefronts displayed their allegiances, either putting up a “God Save the Queen” banner, or flying a Republic of Ireland flag and conspicuously placing Irish phrases across windows. One of the most interesting people we met with actually happened to be our bus driver, an interesting man who to my astonishment shared with us that he was a “dissident” and thus opposed the Good Friday Agreement. Instinctively, I wanted to dismiss the views of a man opposed to the current peace – but I could not help but feel that it is hard to blame this man for not wanting to forgive, given that he has probably witnessed and experienced injustices I couldn’t even fathom.

Derry/Londonderry presented a different facet of Northern Ireland. The historic city walls that continue to surround the town center give it a medieval vibe that Belfast lacks, but here too the communities of Protestants and Catholics remain almost more divided than in Belfast. Nevertheless, at the Derry Playhouse we had the fortune of meeting with women who were affected by the Troubles, and have dedicated themselves to encouraging peace and forgiveness through the arts. One woman shared the story of how her husband was brutally murdered by the IRA, while another spoke of her own challenging experience as a bombmaker in the IRA. I cannot imagine the strength of character and spirit that it must have taken for these women to first sit next to one another, let alone work together. Hearing these stories gave us a window into the excruciating pain that so many must have suffered during the Troubles, and one cannot come out of such an experience without optimism and hope that forgiveness will vanquish any residual animosity.

I still have a tremendous amount to learn about this fascinating part of the island, and could not be more excited to return in May to conduct thesis research and gain a deeper sense of what it takes to hold a post-conflict society together.

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Cross Border Observations

Posted on March 7, 2013 by kdwyer13

My Human Rights Law program is split between Queen’s University in Belfast and the National University of Ireland in Galway. This means that my Mitchell year has been divided North and South, with two different cities, cohorts, currencies, and cultures. After four months in Belfast and almost two now in Galway I can say confidently that yes, there really is a difference.

The experiences are different and the opportunities, therefore, are also radically different. In Belfast I had two internships and was surrounded constantly by talk which provided insight into conflict resolution and human rights in post-conflict society. Most people I met were somehow involved in an organization or political work, and everyone overflowed with opinions. I miss the grit and humor in Belfast, and the handling of the sometimes-grim reality. And the flip side also: the vibrancy of the culture and music and festivals that are a positive response to painful recent histories.

But there are also things I don’t miss about Belfast.

Some of this has to do entirely with personal style and my individual quirks. Briefly, I don’t miss classrooms of silent students, I don’t miss feeling out of place in my flat shoes and makeup-free face just to go to a lecture, and I don’t miss the sense that nearly everyone around me came from Belfast and had no aspirations to ever leave. Queen’s is a clannish place, at least in the Law school, and there is something very isolating in the sense that most people hope to never leave.

My experience in Galway is a lot like coming home. This is an international city, balancing the status of a small place on the Western end of Ireland with the diversity of student body and local population. The students around me offer opinions in classes and mostly seem to aspire to NGO work, UN involvement, and a variety of work overseas and here in Ireland. There is an energy to campus which is deeply satisfying, and a breadth of interests in the classroom that I find inspiring.

Galway is not gritty. It’s artsy. Hippie, basically. It’s an easy place for me to live; I fit here.

Again, I don’t want to harp on what didn’t fit for me in Belfast. I made connections there that I maintain now: individuals and organizations working in conflict resolution, ex-prisoner education, and local social issues. I haven’t yet found any connections to match these in Galway. I also made deep friendships in Belfast, although mostly not at Queen’s and generally in what you might term the counter-culture of Belfast.

I came here to be a student, and there are some stark differences between Queens and Galway that I recognize had limited me at Queen’s.   Classes at NUIG are far more discussion based and in-depth, with an assumed knowledge and discernment by students that has me scrambling for my text books. There is a constant barrage of opportunities through the Human Rights Centre: seminars, conferences, speaking events, movie nights, etc. At Queen’s, these opportunities were fewer, and the student organization generally focused on pub crawls, rather than human rights. I also find NUIG professors to be much more engaged with the students, eager to foster interests and with high expectations of individual work. It makes for more studying, but also more excitement and opportunity.

So here I am in Galway, land of pubs and seafront promenades. I’m surrounded not by political graffiti and sectarian flags, but by street art and traditional music. There’s a loss in leaving my Belfast communities and the work I was part of there. But there’s studying to be done and a full calendar of events upcoming. I’m happy to be here.

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Where’s the Craic? Cork

Posted on March 6, 2013 by ttobin13

My Irish classmates often ask me, “What’s the craic?” Even after many months here, I still don’t quite understand fully the linguistic acrobatics that the word “craic” (pronounced “crack”) entails, whether in definition or in its use. My classmates tell me about how they “had a bit of craic” or searched out some “good craic.” Broadly speaking, “craic” is a word that means fun or enjoyment with others, very broadly speaking. It’s a spirit of fun that evades capture in a concise definition, especially for this American student. If you’re wondering about where there is some good “craic,” look no farther than Cork.

Ireland’s Rebel City, Cork, may not be as large as Dublin or Belfast, but Cork has a culture all its own. Designated as a “City of Culture” by the European Union in 2005, Cork has a cultural scene far beyond its size.

An American play was my introduction to Cork’s cultural offerings. Within my first week here in Cork City, I happened upon the Cork Arts Theatre, which was playing Neil Simon’s “Lost in Yonkers.” The Irish actors pulled off the play (and the New York accents) remarkably well.  Concurrently, the City was playing host to an International Short Story Festival. With my fellow Cork-based Mitchell, Kelly Kirkpatrick, I went to an uproarious reading from a British author. Then I bought the book and sent it to my mother back in the States.

Cork continues to impress me with its many cultural opportunities. Between the Crawford Art Gallery (which is free, by the way!), the Cork Corona Film Festival, and the Guinness Jazz Festival, the city provides numerous opportunities to learn, grow, and enjoy. After several months here, there’s no shortage of things to do. I can certainly see why Corkonians are so famously enamoured with their lively City. It is indeed a great place for anyone with bottled-up excitement.

One play, “Love, Peace, and Robbery,” was total Cork. At the Cork Arts Theatre, the Cork Rep. Theatre Company performed this crime comedy written by Cork’s Evening Echo court reporter. Based on interviews from Cork prison, the action centers on two recently released Cork criminals plotting one last job. The Cork accent is in full force here. The action is fast-paced, witty, poignant, and, at times, surreal. I could not have planned a more immersive Cork experience for my visiting American friend.

For those considering a visit to Ireland or applying to the Mitchell Scholarship, keep Cork in mind. Some of my favorite memories of this year have been showing the vibrant city of Cork to my fellow Mitchell Scholars and other visitors. For me, Cork has been a great place to live, learn, and make memories.

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PeaceMeals in Belfast

Posted on March 6, 2013 by Catherine Skroch

In America I started a project called PeaceMeals, which gathers small groups of individuals who have experienced similar traumas in the kitchen and around the dinner table for healing. PeaceMeals is meant to be the catalyst for a type of informal group therapy combining the creative catharsis of cooking with nutritional healing, and with the comfort and fun of dinner parties.

Over the past few months, I have been able to hold a few PeaceMeals here in Belfast. It is difficult to enter a new country and new culture – especially one as wounded as Northern Ireland – and expect to build relationships of trust right away. People are wary of outsiders coming in and trying to “fix” Ireland’s Troubles, with good reason. Many people seem to be tired of peace without real healing.

It took some time to build trust with people who may benefit from the program, but I have met some amazing individuals who were interested in it, so PeaceMeals has gone global!

I led one Meal in conjunction with a local youth club that brings together Protestant and Catholic (and other) students to talk about tough issues and to do interfaith projects. The youth club leader asked if PeaceMeals could come alongside a group of teenage girls from ‘both sides of the divide’ who had been fighting amongst themselves; mostly about catty teenage girl issues, but with some sectarian jabs thrown in. My hope for this Meal was not to facilitate some earth-shattering reconciliation between Catholics and Protestants, nor to ‘solve’ Northern Ireland one teenager at a time. My goal was simply to make these girls laugh together. I planned a teenage-friendly menu: homemade pizzas (whole grain), smoothies (green), a simple salad, and apple crisp with maple whipped cream.

We gathered in a small B&B here and after explaining PeaceMeals a little bit, I set the girls to work, deliberately dividing them into groups according to antagonisms. When I looked across the room and saw a few girls laughing together as they whipped cream all over the walls, I knew that my mission was accomplished, in some small way. We had a great conversation over dinner, ranging from boys to college plans to differences in Catholic and Protestant culinary traditions to the merits of spray tans. The true stuff of life.

I held another PeaceMeal for a group of women who have all experienced the loss of a loved one. Women with a range of experiences gathered at a local home. Some had lost children, some had lost parents, some had lost best friends – some due to “The Troubles”, some not. My goal for this Meal was that they would find community with these other women in a way that they had not found before. We prepared red lentil soup, salad, sweet potato biscuits and chocolate beetroot cake with strawberry whipped cream. I barely had to lead conversation at all, because they were eager to ask each other questions about how they deal with grief, how they honor the memories of their loved ones, self-care strategies, and the many ways to prepare Ireland’s overabundance of cabbage.

PeaceMeals in Belfast

Cath dishes up some chocolate beetroot cake at a PeaceMeal in Belfast.

There is unique healing to be found by creating space for people to let go of their troubles (or The Troubles) by laughing and talking around a shared meal. This is a truth that seems to be applicable everywhere around the world.

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Tea and Conversation

Posted on March 6, 2013 by awilliams13

For the last several weeks I’ve been co-facilitating a Facing Prejudice class at the Lifford Youth Reach Home in County Donegal. Essentially this means that my friend and I ask a group of 16-18 year old boys to openly discuss racism, sectarianism and homophobia for a few hours each week to see if we can start to break down the concept of “the other.”
Many of the boys come from troubled backgrounds, been run out of Northern Ireland as a result of involvement in drugs, or committed a crime or two. We’re never sure just how many will be there, or how long they’ll decide to stay. I’ve found that once you pick out the words that aren’t expletives, there are really interesting observations from these young men.

We try not to take things one day at a time. I prefer 15 minutes intervals, a day would be too much.

Over the last few weeks I think we’ve made some progress, which can be seen in our conversations.

Our first meeting went something like this:
Young man 1: “Girl, where’s your accent from? America! Hey boys check out this doll’s accent, it’s class!”
To which I responded: “My mother named me Ashleen, not doll. Please use my name, and I’ll use yours.”
Young man 2: “Can we call you Ash?”
“No.”

Our recent meeting didn’t involve any comments about my gender, accent or general look. In fact the boys were using words like spectacular, inspirational and abysmal, and of course, demanding that we take note of the new vocabulary. They have potential, and when we mention that we have to leave exactly at 2:30 for other commitments the conversation is more like this:

“If they have a problem with you being late, send them here, we’ll straighten them out.”
—“yes, how would you do that? You know we don’t believe in violence.”
“Ashleen, who said anything about violence? We’d invite them in for a cuppa tea.”

Somehow I don’t think that a nice cup of tea has been the preferred option for settling disputes, but I’ll take it. I’ve really enjoyed this workshop, and I’ll be sad to see it end. For me, it’s been an opportunity to speak with young people about issues that are awkward, uncomfortable and untouched. It’s an opportunity to have them express what’s on their minds without fear of repercussion or consequence. It’s a chance to have a cup of tea with young people I wouldn’t otherwise get to meet.

The time in Lifford goes quickly, and then they’re left to learn how to be functioning, responsible citizens and I’m left to return to my quiet Derry life to enjoy a cup of tea.

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Red box or green? A lesson in Irish localism

Posted on March 6, 2013 by kkirkpatrick13

One thing I have noticed in my recent travels around Ireland and the UK in the last two months is how fiercely proud Irish people are of their local history, character, and traditions. Take drinking, for example.  In England, you can order Earl Grey or English Breakfast tea.  When a friend from Oxford ordered Earl Grey on a recent visit to Cork, they gave her a funny look and said they didn’t have any…she asked what they did have and the reply was “Barry’s”.  Barry’s is the brand of Irish breakfast tea (in the red box) that we drink in Cork, not to be confused with Lyons tea (in the green box), which they drink in the North and West.  People maintain strong allegiances with Barry’s or Lyons, because your choice is an obvious symbol of your identity and community loyalty.  No one seems concerned with the fact that the two teas taste the same. Like, exactly the same — especially when you add milk and a chocolate biscuit.  It seems sometimes its the principle that matters, not the practicality of the situation.

This localism is true for beverage choices at the pub as well: Bushmills whiskey is distilled in the North, while Jameson is distilled in County Cork. If you are drinking cider, will you have Bulmers (as it is called in the Republic), or Magners (as it is called in the UK)? Again, they are exactly the same drink, but people seem to identify with, and defend, one over the other.  In perhaps the most important example of Irish beverage-localism, you should really only drink Guinness in Dublin, because Guinness – any Irish(wo)man will tell you – doesn’t travel well.  Ireland may market and export Guinness all over the world, but really, one should only drink it in Dublin.  A contradiction, perhaps, but endearing and principled all the same.

Irish localism extends far beyond drinking of course – you see it reflected in the country’s political culture, their local historical and sports celebrities, and in the range of accents from across the four provinces, and more subtle dialects and accent variations within each county.  With a sentence, you may well be able to identify what part of the country someone is from, make reference to their local political scandal or recent GAA win, and know if they are a Barry’s or Lyon’s drinker. While the smallness can sometimes be stifling for those of us who are used to the anonymity of a country like the United States, I think there is something each of us can learn from Ireland’s localism and community pride.

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2 Photographers and Me

Posted on March 6, 2013 by byoung13

In the second semester of our MFA program, I feel a lot of the students (and myself) coming into their own.  We have been given the tools, the encouragement, and the inspiration to pursue creative, new bodies of work with a mind towards the contemporary photographic contexts these works will be situated within.  I am genuinely excited about my own work, as well as the work of my classmates.  A large part of this process has been learning from great photographers directly.  Not only viewing their work but also hearing the explanation of the process and thinking that goes into creating a final body of work.  It is a blessing to have two reknowned photographers teaching on the course – Paul Seawright and Donovan Wylie – who have spoken openly abou their work, their inspiration and challenges, and allowed us to pose questions and delve into deeper discussions.

In the beginning of this semester, Wylie gave us an in-depth look at the process behind creating his recent work Outposts.

It was enlightening to understand the process from thought to completion that goes into creating a body of work such as this.  He showed us clips from his journal from the day he first came up with the idea, as well as his large collection of images gathered during research for the work.  Some of the most interesting aspects to me were the stories from his actual time spent photographing in Afghanistan.

Donovan Wylie while photographing Outposts in Afghanistan.

Last semester, we were also blessed to receive insight into the work of Paul Seawright.  Seawright walked us through his past work and concluded with his most recent.  His publication Volunteer was shot in the United States, so it was a bit surreal for me, the only American student on the course, to be sitting in a Northern Irish classroom listening to and looking at a photographer’s perspective of my country.

It was incredible, however, to begin to understand the methodical and diligent way in which Seawright approaches his projects.  I was also humbled to be learning from a photographer who is often mentioned and lauded in books I pick up: “In Valley, Seawright uses the twisting hill road littered with artillery shells in a compositional manner reminiscent of the earliest photographs of conflict zones by British photographer Robert Fenton…” (The Photograph as Contemporary Art, 171).

So as the semester continues on, I feel excited to continue to learn from these fantastic photographers as well as the other talented students on my course.  Their insights and photographic prowess are awe inspiring and I feel so fortunate to be apart of it.

In closing, I will just share one of the audio pieces I am working on in relation to my own project.  It is an audio recording I took while visiting a group home for the elderly with dementia in Japan.  Audio and singing are aspects that I am continuing to explore in pairings with my visual work.

Artwork Sample

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A Galway Adventure

Posted on March 6, 2013 by cwalsh13

All I wanted to do was see the castle, I thought to myself as I stepped out of the back of the van with a shoddy clutch, onto the Salthill Promenade behind another passenger and an older Irish gentleman who was driving. The past six hours had been strange.

Fully intending to procrastinate on this fine Sunday in Galway, I went for a walk to see the ruins of Menlo Castle. That’s what people do in Ireland, right? It seemed close enough, anyway. The walk on the west bank of the river from my apartment in Salthill is only about 25 minutes. I (wrongly) assumed that getting to the castle on the east bank would be about the same. An hour later, after being forced to squeeze around bog and marsh, I finally reached the remains of the castle gates. Before long, after nearly falling over the real gate used to keep cows and perhaps people out, I found myself wandering around the 16th-century castle grounds. Honestly, while it was cool, there wasn’t too much to see. A fire had destroyed the castle in 1910 (thank you, Google), and what was left was overgrown in ivy and elderberry. With a deep breath, I prepared for the walk home. Stumbling through a briar patch and over a stone wall (admittedly, not the brightest idea), I was suddenly struck by a distant yelling, as an older, gray-haired man came stomping towards me.

I braced myself for extreme social awkwardness, figuring I was about to incur the wrath of a local farmer. I tried to put on my best lost-and-confused-American face and think of a good reason as to why I might be wandering around in the middle of nowhere on presumably private property. I soon realized that the yelling was in Irish and the man in question was Pádraig, an acquaintance from Irish-language circles who lives in Menlo village. Far from angry, Pádraig seemed quite excited to see me and began bombarding me with questions about how I was keeping myself these past few weeks. Without delay, Pádraig decided to take me on a tour of the castle grounds, land which had belonged to his family until recently when the state forced a sale.

Suddenly, the same castle which had only half-impressed me a few moments earlier took on new life. Pádraig was very enthusiastic and led me along pointing to all the plants and explaining each one in rapid-fire Irish. He, despite his age and the consistent complaints of a bad back, leapt over the sidewall of the ruined formal garden, a garden which I had thought to be a derelict field. Pointing out some of the flower varieties that had run wild since the castle’s abandonment, Pádraig led me along through the former stables and up to the walls of the ruined castle. Circling around and around, Pádraig described everything about the castle in detail: when it was built, where long-forgotten walls and windows were, the people who had lived there. The castle’s history was very much real to him, and he thoroughly enjoyed his somewhat captive audience (really, where could I have gone?). After an hour or so, I had learned about the mysterious and unsolved murder of the groundskeeper in the 1920s (word is everyone in the village knows who did it), the tricks villagers used to play on the English landlords, and far too many new words in Irish. As we moved back to the road, I readied myself for home.

“But of course you’ll stay for a cup of tea,” said Pádraig. Ireland has taught me that cups of tea cannot be turned down, even after you politely try. Suddenly, I found myself on a tour of Menlo village, a village that was predominantly Irish-speaking until a generation or so ago. Before long, I’d been given a detailed summary of village politics: who was married to whom, who was no longer on speaking terms with whom (the two aren’t mutually exclusive), who had built what and why it mattered. Pádraig showed me the ruined Ogham standing stone which had been defaced, along with other rocks in the village, by a very zealous Catholic in exactly 1817 (the zealot in question was very precise with his graffiti). The more we talked, the more it became clear just how much Pádraig knew about his home. Every rock and bend in the road had a name and a story attached to it. We spent hours talking at his house, a well-worn home filled with Fifi the dog and who knows how many other people. A few hours later, as Pádraig drove me and another visitor (people just seem to show up in Menlo?) back towards the city, it struck me what a strange and wonderful day it had been.

So much of my time in Ireland has felt like today, like seeing a place once, and then needing someone to make sense of it for you, as if it were a riddle. People and places here have long memories and many stories, and if we’re lucky, we get to have people like Pádraig to share them with us.

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A year of adventure

Posted on March 6, 2013 by mlotfipour13

In addition to sitting in café’s working on my thesis, pints with my classmates discussing lectures, and walks through Stephens Green on sunny days, I have had the great pleasure of exploring Ireland and Europe thanks to the Mitchell fellowship. The greatest part is that I have had some lovely Mitchell’s to share my experiences with.

Conor, Tommy, and I enjoying some pizza in Italy!

For Tommy’s Birthday, fellow Mitchell’s Tommy, Conor, and I trekked to Milan, Italy. We enjoyed our long weekend in the sun exploring the city by foot and by food. We spent time walking around and basically eating all sorts of yummy Italian dishes and drinks. From authentic Italian Pizzas to crazy expensive Lasagna in a pastry shop … I learned the valuable lesson that those boys can eat! We had the opportunity to observe the beautiful Gothic façade of the Milan Cathedral, the Arch of Peace, and Sant’Ambrogio (…just to name a few).

Kelly and I enjoying some Persian food in London.

Fellow Mitchell Kelly and I had a wonderful weekend exploring London. Only an hour flight from here, we escaped for a lovely adventure. We spent the weekend enjoying yummy brunches and Persian food, exploring ancient dinosaurs at the Natural History museum and some van Gogh at the National Gallery. We wondered the streets of Knotting Hill and enjoyed more cookies than I will ever admit to.

Rachel and I after we climbed the tower!

Mupple Rachel and I spent birthday weekend in Paris. I have to admit, I think it was the loveliest birthday I have ever had. Rachel and I spent our weekend exploring the city’s vibrant atmosphere. We climbed the Eiffel Tower, enjoyed the Musee d’Orsay, and visited my otherhalf at the Louvre. With a stop at a market or two (please refer to Rachel’s recent post) in addition to a bakery or five, we had a lovely weekend.

These past few weeks I’ve been busy exploring, but every time I am thrilled to be on the flight back to Dublin. Ireland has become a comfortable home where I know my way around, my favorite cafés, and can enjoy the comforts of being home. Even though I love exploring, I enjoy nothing more than the weekends I spend finding a new Indian place in my neighborhood or meeting classmates for a pint down the road.  Ireland is finally starting to feel like a home rather than just an adventure. Regardless of where I am, I’m glad I have my fellow Mitchell’s to share these experiences with.

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