Here Comes the Sun?

Posted on November 7, 2012 by Sam Yates - Trinity College Dublin

One of the strangest things about living here in Ireland is the different notion of the seasons. Try as I might, I couldn’t quite muster a smile for my friends and housemates when they wished me a well-intentioned “Happy Spring!” on 1 February, while a cold rain was lashing againt my windowpane and the wind howled in protest against the walls of the GMB.

Now that it’s May, I can at least return the sentiment of “Happy Summer!” with a smile that possesses a bit of sincerity.  Today I turned in my last essay of the term (Spider-Man on Broadway: The heroic achievement of economic capital and mass industry), and am now writing to you from a hotel room in the southern port city of Waterford.  Though I am not yet finished with my program — indeed, my dissertation due on August 17 seems both worryingly close and painfully far away —  I’m taking a quick respite between the finishing of Hilary Term and the beginning of earnest dissertation work to tour the island a bit with my parents.

Many of my fellow Mitchells are leaving Ireland quite soon after our commencement in May, due to new school and work commitments. Luckily, my plans allow me to spend the summer in Dublin finishing both my research and writing.  Perhaps more exciting than the completion of coursework, the summer brings the opportunity to travel around a bit more.  My class and work schedule during the main school-year kept me on campus throughout the week, Monday through Friday, stymying travel a bit.  Now that I only have my personal schedule to adhere to, I’m hoping to get around the island (and mainland Europe) a bit more.  After all, you can write anywhere, right?

At the moment, however, I am playing host to my parents for their first visit to Ireland.  I have had several visits from friends throughout the year, but being able to share my (now) home with my parents feels particularly special. Until I began walking around Dublin, explaining bits of local culture and history, I hadn’t realized that I had amassed such a wealth of random knowledge — and a bit of pride too.  So much of this year has felt frenetic and forward-leaning, with opportunities to thoughtfully reflect on my experience here difficult to come by.  Having to articulate my experiences to my family during their visit has helped me realize a couple of things:

  1. Everyone is a little bit Irish. Whether it’s the natural inclination to not look at your clock too closely, the effortless attitude you approach problems with, or simply an affinity for good craic, the pace of life here is attractive to most everyone. It is definitively slower (sometimes to my chagrin), but it has also helped me “chill out” just a bit more. Even my friends from undergrad have commented that I seem to be a more mellow person.
  2. I love being in Europe. It’s tough being far away from my established social circle in the States,  to be sure, but it comes with the benefit of a new professional and friend group and an amenable lifestyle. Also, I don’t think I can ever go back to living in a small city. Having lived in London, and now Dublin, I don’t think I could ever (or would ever) go back to areas with a poor/no transportation system, minimal cultural development, and a good public park.
  3. You can always weather the storm.  The environment can be icy. Literally.  Much to the amusement of my Irish friends who claim that it “rarely hails,” I have a knack for getting pelted with those small chunks of ice whenever, and wherever, they fall. When I first moved to Ireland it felt like something of a chore to venture out into the bleak weather for class, daily chores, the gym, etc.  Eventually, I realized that the weather certainly isn’t going anywhere, so I just had to pull myself up by my bootstraps, pull on my overcoat, and venture out into the rain.  The obvious metaphor aside, it’s a great boon for my touristy ventures: when it’s terribly bleak outside the tourist groups are huddled in a pub or cafe with a warm drink, not trekking on an outdoor walk.
Well, I am going to wrap these few thoughts up, as I’m about to go for a walk around the old walls of Waterford with my family, and then pack for our move to Kenmare. I have another forthcoming entry on this page later in the summer, where you’ll surely be updated on my dissertation progress and solidified plans for the coming year.  Until then, you can always follow my thoughts and adventures on my regular blog, http://tomecide.tumbler.com.
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Global Learning

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Elizabeth Katz - Dublin City University

In January, I attended the Ireland United States Alumni Association’s inaugural conference.  Impressively, every panel of the day included top names in Irish business, education, art, and culture, such as the general secretary of the Department of Education, the chief executive of Culture Ireland, and the presidents of two Irish universities.  The plenary session, which addressed the topic of  the internationalization of education, wrestled with the benefits of international students to universities and of studying abroad for students.  In European countries, a key benefit is economic: International students pay significantly more in non-EU fees. All three panelists argued that the most important benefit is more qualitative and harder to measure—that is, the reciprocal learning for domestic students, international students, faculty, and administrators.  In my previous posts, I spoke of some of the learning that has occurred here in Ireland thanks to the Mitchell Scholarship.  Now I would like to describe a few random ways my global learning has proven quite useful.

My first example is slightly silly.  To give some background, no one in my family, including me, has ever won trivia games at restaurant or pubs.  We are quite bright, but the sports and popular culture categories usually trip us up.  So needless to say, I was not expecting much of anything when my cousin and mother decided to host a pre-wedding rehearsal dinner at an Italian restaurant that does a trivia night on Thursdays.  Surprisingly, after a few rounds, we were doing pretty well.  But by the time the last question came, it was anyone’s game.  While you were answering the question, you also wagered the number of points on your answer.  For this last question, you could wager up to 100 points; if you got the question wrong, you would lose whatever points you wagered.  I had never played this way before, but the format made my cousin’s fiancé, our scribe, very nervous.  He already knew not to wager too much unless you were very confident of your answer.  Then up came the question:  “It sounds painful if one were to receive a kick in the Trossachs.  Where, in fact, is this geographical feature?”   I immediately threw up my hands in delight.  I had travelled to the Trossachs in November because in fact Ireland is quite close to…. Scotland!  So I whispered the answer to my cousin’s fiancé and reassured him that he should wager the entire 100 points.  So we actually won!!

Now back to a more serious view of global learning …

There have been countless facts and figures, along with contrasting systems and methodologies, that I have learned throughout this year.  One of the most useful things I’ve learned stemmed from the Mitchell Scholars’ trip to Brussels, the de facto capital of the EU, in March.  For the last few years, the Irish Representative to the European Union has hosted the Mitchell Scholars in Brussels for a couple of days. This year we visited the European Parliament, the European Commission, the European Economic and Social Committee, and the US Mission to the EU and had meetings with representatives of businesses and NGOs such as the European American Business Council, the European Policy Centre, Google, and the Irish Business Employers Confederation.

Mitchell Scholars at the EU Parliament

It was a busy couple of days.  The biggest difference between the US and the EU is that the US was formed as a confederation of states that joined together primarily to share the burden of foreign policy and defense, while the EU was formed for mutual domestic benefit, both economically and socially.  Each type of union has its advantages, which can be understood more fully through recognition of this difference.

This realization will always help me in interpreting European social policy, and this is exactly the sort of intangible benefit of global learning that makes it so meaningful.

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Time Flies…

Posted on October 28, 2012 by David Gobaud - Queen's University Belfast

Wow. Hard to believe my time on the island is coming to a close… it feels like just yesterday I arrived, was panicking about not being able to charge my laptop or access the Internet, and broke my foot. The Internet “issues” do continue though… A few weeks ago the Internet in my room (and what seemed like at least all of Mount Charles and probably all student housing) stopped working so I called Accommodations and asked why. They let me know they had shut the Internet for unknown reasons… Luckily it started working the next day. It still isn’t clear what exactly happened… One person said they had specifically disabled computers they thought were infected with the BackDoor.Flashback.39 virus, but my Mac was not infected, and I checked with three friends who run Windows, and their Internet access was also not working. For the period when the Internet was “shut” I was able to access the Internet by using my cell phone as an access point. There were indications it was a DNS problem so eventually I configured my computer to only use the cell phone for DNS queries and route the actual traffic through the dorm connection in order to limit cell phone bandwidth and increase speed. This worked which was nice. The odd thing is I’m told there was no DNS problem. The mystery remains and today it seems like there are intermittent DNS issues… anyway… on to more exciting things.

My favorite part of the year so far has been the trip to Brussels. The Permanent Representation of Ireland to the European Union (EU) invited the Mitchell Scholars to Brussels and planned an incredible series of events and speakers that introduced us to EU governance and politics. Ivan, Sam, and I were also incredibly lucky to be invited to stay in the Permanent Representative’s residence. Everyone was extremely welcoming and we literally felt like we were at home! The residence even came with wifi and electrical adapters so I could charge my laptop (I forgot Brussels had different electrical outlets than the U.K. so I arrived unprepared)! As for events, we had lunch with U.S. Ambassador to the EU William Kennard, visited the local Google office and listened to a presentation on EU lobbying, and visited the EU Parliament building and saw the plenary chamber. My favorite event during the trip was lunch with Ambassador Kennard (a fellow Stanford alumnus!). It is always great to meet Stanford alumni around the world. Learning about US-EU relations and hearing the US stance on ACTA was very fascinating. I also enjoyed the Google visit during which Google upheld their tradition of having wonderful free food. It was also interesting to ask the presenters about Google’s position on the “No Track” proposal and if they thought that the Google Play policy requiring apps to use Google Checkout for in-app purchases was anti-competitive (Apple actually started the practice and continues to enforce it).

After the official events ended, some of us stayed in Brussels for an extra couple of days. A group of us visited the Grand Place area and had dinner at Chez Leon and then had an amazing dessert waffle (I had 2) at a little waffle stand on one of the tiny streets leading away from the Grand Place center. I highly recommend one of the dessert waffles if you visit. The next day I went to Bruges for a few hours with Chelsea and Sam. We had a wonderful lunch at some quaint restaurant but the highlight of the trip was getting chocolate at Dumon and trying marzipan for the first time. When we returned to Brussels we went to Delirium Café, a fantastic bar that holds the Guinness World Record with 2004 beers and now claims to have over 2,400 beers!

Currently I’m back in Belfast wrapping up classes. My last classes are next week and I’m busy writing multiple papers. In my spare time I have developed BackToWork.us – a service to help U.S. citizens find jobs. It has special features tailored to helping veterans and youth find jobs. It lets veterans search via their military occupation code in order to help them find jobs that make use of the skills they developed while serving our country. The app searches over the SummerJobs+ 2012 job bank and the National Resource Directory’s Veterans Job Bank. There is also an iOS version. I entered the site in the White House’s recent Code Sprint and it was selected as one of the featured entries.

As for summer, I’m going back to Stanford in early June to conduct research in the law school at The Center for Internet and Society. I’ll be working with Resident Fellow Bryant Walker Smith and researching autonomous automobile remote control/shutdown (how to secure it and under what circumstances may law enforcement utilize the ability). I have had a wonderful time here in Belfast but I am excited to get back to the U.S. and especially the Bay Area – I have missed California weather!!!

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Men in Kilts!

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Katie Marcum - University College Dublin

This time, I have a funny story to share—a brief glimpse into life at my student residence. While I won’t say it is one of my happiest memories in Ireland, it is certainly one of the most outrageous and has become a story that I will tell again and again and, as such, is a worthwhile part of my experience. It isn’t necessarily a flattering portrayal of anyone—me, the UCD students central to its development, or the fine, Celtic guests that made it what it is—but none the less it has been one of the “highlights” of my year.
Just a few days before Valentine’s Day, I found myself in Dun Laoghaire at the Pavilion Theatre, watching the Godot Compnay London’s Beckett X3, three very short, usually un-performed plays by Samuel Beckett. I’ve taken a class on Beckett this semester, and it has been surprisingly wonderful—easily my favorite. At Dr. Roche’s urging, I made the twenty minute bus ride and met up with most of my MA course there. Beckett is, of course, legendary, and the opportunity to see these short pieces—Rough for Theatre 2, That Time, and Rockaby—simply could not be passed up by the literary geeks we profess to be. The show was lovely, and I especially enjoyed Rockaby, a performance of an elderly woman’s experience at death. It’s poignant and, in true Beckettian fashion, minimalist and thought-inspiring.
After a lovely show, I caught the 46A back to UCD and walked in from the slip road in the pouring rain. I came home to a silent apartment, which, while strange, is not unusual. I live with five roommates, so there is usually someone puttering around in our apartment, but, as four of them are “grad vet” students from the US and Canada, they are close friends and often go out together. I made myself a quiet dinner and retired to my room, eager to enjoy my free evening and “hit the hay.” As I was preparing for bed, I heard voices in the apartment and assumed that my roommates had returned. With nothing left to do, I settled in for a much-needed rest.
Now, I should explain that at UCD, electronic entry cards are used to enter the building, the apartment, and individual bedrooms. At this point, I had begun leaving my bedroom door in “office mode,” essentially unlocked, while I was there—after experiencing a few inconvenient lockouts after heading to the kitchen for a drink or midnight snack. This evening was no exception and, as I always had done, I flipped the lock on the inside of the door before bed. My father is a correctional officer, and such basic safety precautions have been ingrained in me from early childhood.
At about 4:30 A.M., however, I was roused from a relatively deep and enjoyable slumber by the sound of the door opening. My first, overly-panicked thought, was that somehow the building had caught on fire and I’d missed the alarm, or something had happened at home and they were coming to notify me. After all, only the RA could have opened my locked door, right? After turning on the lights, though, I was greeted to a sight that was not, by any means, an overworked resident assistant.
Four fairly inebriated young gentlemen in blue plaid kilts stood in the tiny hallway by my bathroom, wearing expressions, I’m sure, as equally horrified as my own. In a slurred Scottish brogue, they asked if there were any empty beds in my room, to which I, in a fit of roughly awoken crankiness, made a sarcastic comment lost in the whisky. As I later found out, they were sports players from Scotland, staying over at UCD the night before their game to socialize. They had been offered space on our couch but had found it not quite comfortable and so, in their alcohol-induced haze, had decided to check for open beds in our apartment.
After shooing them into the hallway and speaking with my roommate, I tried to go back to bed, but found it difficult, images of drunken men in kilts haunting my dreams. A few days later, my roommate apologized with a lovely, hand-written note and a box of Cadbury deluxe chocolate. Happy Valentine’s day!
I tell this story for many reasons, and not just because it’s humorous. It’s one that I’m sure my Mitchell Scholar colleagues have heard several times by now but one, which I think, is indicative of my experience at UCD and in Ireland. I’d been so sure of everything I had done that night, meticulously checking doors and washing dishes, only to find that my plans had, quite literally, been unlocked. I’ve found my experience in Ireland to be like that so far—something difficult to plan for! In many ways, such spontaneity on the part of my friends, classmates, and university has helped me to relax my own rather strict personal guidelines. Helpful, of course, but not all together painful…I definitely lost a little sleep!

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Coming to the End/Beginning

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Anise Vanse - Queen's University Belfast

In my last couple of blogs I reflected on politics and identity in Northern Ireland.  My thoughts on those subjects are developing, but as the end of my time in Northern Ireland draws near,  I’ll pivot toward personal reflections on this past year.

The Mitchell Program offered me and my fellow scholars the opportunity to meet politicians, journalists, civil servants, and artists; travel within Ireland and across Europe; and, importantly, get to know each other.  For me, the single most significant gift given by the Mitchell Program was separation.  Let me explain.
Like many college graduates, my undergraduate experience was, in a word, frenzied.  There was always something happening.  I loved the fast-paced, deadline-filled, adrenaline-rush environment that was college.  I did a lot of work that I am proud of and would change very little about my four-year experience.  That said, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to reflect in between exams, papers, weekends, organizational responsibilities, and trying to figure out a major.  I stopped doing a lot of little things: reading, playing pick-up basketball, sitting down for lunch.  Hobbies get cut and, unfortunately, so do passions and dreams.
I was, for the most part, happy with the path on which college set me.  Sociology PhD, professorship, tenure.  That still may wind up being my trajectory.  But you know what?  I remembered that I like writing and, given enough time, could be good at it.  Out of the demanding college environment for a mere six months, I let go of the plans I had carefully laid for years.  With the support of a couple of professors, I rushed through applications to creative writing MFA programs.  Lady Luck came to my aid: come September, I’ll be attending Rutgers.
Without the Mitchell year, I would be in a PhD program somewhere.  Don’t get me wrong — I would be happy.  But part of me would always wonder what could have happened had I pumped the brakes for a minute, looked around, and thought, “What else might there be?”
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Rights, Change, and Reflection

Posted on October 28, 2012 by jmoldovan12

A few weeks ago, four courageous women came forward and shared their stories with the Irish Times. They did so again the next day in meetings with TDs and senators, whom the four women had e-mailed repeatedly in an effort to ensure their attendance. Each of these women had been pregnant but was told by her doctor that her fetus suffered from “an abnormality incompatible with life” and, due to their inability to secure appropriate medical services in Ireland, each woman had traveled to England to terminate her pregnancy. Heartbroken when they discovered that their fetuses were not viable outside of the womb, they were shocked to find that they had to leave Ireland in order to terminate their much-wanted pregnancies.

I was fortunate enough to meet these women and watch them recount their experiences to government officials who, later that day, would begin debating the private members’ bill proposed to give effect to the “X” case, introduced by Deputy Clare Daly. It was a momentous occasion in Ireland when four women who had had abortions stood up, not guarded by anonymity, to demand that women in their circumstances deserve treatment in their own country – that the abortion debate is complex and that the experiences of women deserve center stage in it. For me, it was a rather remarkable moment to see policymakers sit face-to-face with the people for whom their policies had true impact—and they were being challenged. During the debate on the bill, there were obvious voices of dissent, but there were also calls for a bill that goes further than one that simply legislates for the “X” case, which allows for abortion in the case that a woman’s life—as distinct from her health—is at risk, including the risk of suicide. Given that the government is currently awaiting the report of the Expert Group on the ABC case, it was not surprising that the bill was voted down, but the momentum behind it and the sentiment in the gallery where I sat gave me hope. Government officials were speaking about the issue not only in the abstract terms that often dictate the debate but also with regard to the human realities. Deputy Mick Wallace, one of the writers of the legislation, read aloud an e-mail that he had received from a woman who had endured a similar experience to those of the four women who had spoken to the TDs and senators earlier in the day. I suppose I will have to wait and see what happens when the Expert Group releases its report, but the fact that there were government officials—men and women—who articulated reproductive rights as human rights and who spoke boldly on behalf of change makes me think that things cannot remain as they for much longer.

Amidst moments like the one above, I have concluded classes at Trinity and am now on my own to write my thesis over the summer (luckily with Sam by my side). In the time that has passed since my last blog post, I’ve explored Donegal with my brother and sister-in-law, stumbled upon some secret treasures right around Dublin with the help of a former Mitchell Scholar, and tried to absorb the overwhelming history and culture of Berlin. It seems incredible to think that a whole year has gone by since I was finishing up at Yale. I have friends spread throughout the world and the United States, and everyone seems to be evolving, changing, and heading in directions that I (and they) never imagined. Two of them visited me for a week over St. Patrick’s Day. After spending a few days in Dublin to revel in the festivities (we also went to Howth to remove ourselves from the festivities), we made a trip to Connemara. It was absolutely breathtaking and peaceful. Although some of my Irish classmates have remarked to me how mythologized the West has been in Irish history, I could not help falling in love with it. As my friends and I commented to each other, there is something about Ireland–and particularly Connemara–that enables a person to reflect deeply on his or her life. Perhaps this was due to the calming scenery or the fact that I had just ridden a horse (for the sake of my friend) and was fearful for my life (no, I didn’t gallop and yes, it was still scary). Either way, I have so appreciated my time here—even the difficult moments that come with adjusting to living in a foreign place—because I have been able not only to get to know a place and (some of) its people but also spend (significant) time thinking with no particular purpose. I hope this explains my stream of consciousness blog posts. And the vagueness. In a good way.

As hard as I tried to think of a way to seamlessly include sheep in this blog post, my last few weeks in Ireland have been centered in Dublin around the people who have become a large part of my life here and around the issues that originally brought me here. The sheep motif seemed a little out of place—I apologize for the serious turn. My journey is not yet over but some of the Mitchells have left already or will be leaving soon. This is depressing for many reasons, not the least of which is that my musical enlightenment depends on sustained efforts by Anise and Chelsea to get me away from Top 40s (I feel a relapse coming with your impending departure Chelsea). So, let me say thank you now to the Mitchells with whom I have learned, debated, and, most of all, laughed. This year would not have been the same without you and I look forward to celebrating with you in the coming weeks and filling your inboxes when you have left. I am excited to spend a large part of my summer in Ireland, to get in a few more trips, and to watch as events unfold here for women’s reproductive rights.

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Thanks, Ireland!

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Chelsea Caveny - NUI Maynooth

Ireland has had absolutely beautiful weather for the last week. Bright sunshine, no cloud to be found, a light breeze and 75 degrees…this sort of weather makes me want to stay. If only, it was like this year round.

Not only have I had great weather, but I got to spend the last few days with my Mitchell class. We started off on Wednesday in Dublin with a great reception where we received our class rings, a silver band with symbols depicting Irish history. The next few days were spent enjoying last bits of Irish culture. Some of the highlights were a chat with John Minihan and a look at one of his exhibits, a cooking class with Rory O’Connell and a lovely dinner in Kinsale, the food capital of the country. (Ireland has an emerging food culture with a big emphasis on locally produced foods. Kinsale is at the heart of this revival and I recommend any visitor to Ireland stopping there. I wish I had gotten there sooner!)

So after all the excitement of the past few days, I’m now sitting in a bare dorm room with two huge suitcases blocking my door. Packing up has been harder than expected, and I don’t mean because my suitcases weigh more than I do. Not that I haven’t enjoyed Ireland and my course, but there is no denying that I was homesick. My deep love for Mississippi proved a harder habit to break than I had ever imagined. For the past two months, as I began to wrap everything up, I thought that I would be itching to leave. I had an idea that it had been a good year, a good learning experience, but it was time to bring it to an end. Even just a few weeks ago I thought I was ready to pack up and head back South (a very different “south” than the Irish south). But I have been surprisingly emotional the past few days.

I came to Ireland thinking it would be an extension of my study abroad experiences in college. I would drink a lot of beer, take some cool pictures, meet some new people, and extend my carefree college experience for another year. I also thought it was a reputable enough thing to do post-college, reputable enough that nobody would realize that I really had no idea what I wanted to do with my life!

While I did drink some beer (not really that much) and take some pictures, I grew up more this year than I ever expected. I learned things about myself that I didn’t even know could be learned, and I made some friendships that will last a lifetime. While I might have complained to a few of you about the slow mail or the constant use of potatoes, those surface-level frustrations can never compare to what I really experienced this year. While I have always said that my love for Mississippi can be a complicated one, I think it is safe to say I have similarly complicated feelings for Ireland.

So while I am happy to be getting back home to Mississippi cooking, a nice big shower, the ability to drive again, and cheap Bud light … there are things about Ireland that I will always miss. There is struggle in Ireland for identity that no doubt extends to 1916 and before. That translates into a modern Ireland that is quick to assert itself culturally, and incredibly proud of its history. But this quick and dominate assertion of a national image of “Irishness” doesn’t include everyone. Identity is complicated, and getting the opportunity to watch the complexity of being Irish unfold has taught me more about being a Mississippian than I ever could have imagined. I have some good friends with kind souls to thank for letting me into their lives and giving me a real understanding of what it means to be Irish. I also have some American friends with incredibly thoughtful natures, who have taught me about the complexity of being “American” and just how much our place shapes us. Those lessons and those friends will always be with me.

Now I’m heading back home to Mississippi to teach U.S. history, and I’ll bring with me into my rural Mississippi classroom the lessons of Ireland. Ireland, you and your people will be missed, but you will always have a place in Mississippi! Stay green and I hope to see you soon!

Cheers Y’all!
Chelsea

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From California

Posted on October 28, 2012 by David Gobaud - Queen's University Belfast

It is hard to believe but I am writing from Stanford, California. It is amazing how fast the year flew by. It seems like just yesterday I arrived in Belfast. My program is not over though – I am currently working on my dissertation. This summer I am interning at the Stanford Law Center for Internet & Society where I am researching self-driving vehicles and I am planning to utilize the research in my dissertation.

The week before I left Belfast I participated in the Mitchell graduation events with the other scholars. The events were wonderful! In Dublin we met President Higgens at Áras an Uachtaráin (the official resident), Abbot Mark Hederman of Glenstal Abbey presented us scholars with rings, and then we took a trip to Cork with USIA President Trina Vargo. In Cork, real estate developer Tom McCarthy hosted a dinner for us at Fota House and later we had dinner with Sean O’Sullivan of SOS Ventures in Kinsale. Fota House is a magnificent historical house, arboretum, and garden now in the care of the Irish Heritage Trust. We received a tour of the property before dinner and learned of how the property has been restored. On our way to Cork from Dublin we stopped at Kildare Village where me met photographer John Minihan in a gallery displaying his work. We saw John’s iconic photo of Princess Diana. Next we stopped at animation studio Cartoon Saloon in Kilkenny and saw how animated movies are made – the work is quite tedious. The animators and artists are incredibly talented.

Overall this year has been nothing short of marvelous and I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to study on the island of Ireland. I’ve made many friends that I plan to keep in touch with and I look forward to visiting the island – although I must say the weather is just a little better in California!

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Lasting Connections

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Elizabeth Katz - Dublin City University

One of the questions on the Mitchell End-Of-Year Survey asked us the following:

We strive to connect Scholars to people of the island of Ireland. Did your experience have this result? In what ways was this accomplished or hindered? Please be specific regarding your connections, plans to nurture those relationships, and how we can support you in so doing.

When I answered it a couple weeks ago, my original response began with “Not really” because I do not feel very connected to many stereotypical Irish people.  The majority of my friends do not fit the image of the “people of the island of Ireland” that has been presented to me constantly throughout my time in the Republic—that is: white, Catholic, straight, and settled (i.e. non-Traveller).   When I’ve asked my classmates and lecturers about their knowledge of and interest in minority groups in Ireland, such as the Jews, I have been repeatedly assured that, for example, the Jewish population here is insignificantly small and therefore not of concern.  Because I couldn’t understand why the small size of a minority group can justify ignoring its presence, I decided to write my dissertation on the discourse surrounding diversity in the Republic of Ireland.  Specifically, I hope to present an extensive critique of the 2010 Intercultural Education Strategy as it appears to further closed notions of Irish identity as specifically white and Catholic, which I believe foster exclusion in the Irish education system.

Therefore, it is quite frustrating that my initial response to the question above fell into the same logic by thinking that my lack of white, Catholic Irish friends means that I have not connected to the “people of the island of Ireland”.  Fortunately, my partner Rachel reminded me of the alternative discourses that I’ve been trying to engage and promote.  First of all, Ireland has always been diverse.  At least religiously, the Jews arrived on the Emerald Isle almost a thousand years ago before there were even Protestants.  Now of course the Protestant population has been significant in numbers though increasingly segregated to the North over the last century. Then during the 1990’s and early 2000’s, the Celtic Tiger brought such waves of immigration that Ireland saw net immigration (more people moving in than out) for the first time in its history.  While there seems to be a growing discursive current that the ‘diversity’ is just going to leave now that the economic boom has ended, my work at the Immigrant Council of Ireland (ICI) has consistently revealed to me that the population of Ireland has permanently changed.  Just yesterday (June 15), 4000 people were naturalised as Irish citizens (see the Irish Times article).  With 110 countries represented at yesterday’s citizenship ceremony, there are now lots of Irish people who not white and Catholic.  The picture on the right is from the launch of a new project called Ambassadors for Change aimed at helping migrant secondary students navigate the educational system.  I’m the only one in the picture who’s not and doesn’t want to be Irish.

Obviously, I now need to change my answer about the connections I have made here.  I feel very connected to the “people of the island of Ireland”, though most of them are not white and not Catholic.  My boss for my internship at ICI has been one of the greatest mentors I have had in a long time.  Because of that, I am sure that I will be emailing him about every professional choice I make especially because he is the most globally-networked individual I have ever met.  I hate that I didn’t think about him at first just because he is originally from Rwanda.  He has been an Irish citizen for almost 10 years now.  Another connection came simply from meeting a couple at the Ireland-US Alumni Association conference in January.  The husband and I share Presbyterian connections in the States, and the wife is a lecturer at Trinity in the same field as Rachel.  Since we are both interfaith couples interested in human rights and religion, we will definitely stay in touch.  Again though, I didn’t initially think of them because he’s a US citizen and her family is originally from Iran. Of course though she became an Irish citizen years and years ago, and they’re choosing to live in Dublin.  While those friends are legally Irish, I also have other friends who are long-term residents of Ireland but are legally members of other EU states.  With the Republic’s close EU connections, they’re now part of “the people of the island of Ireland” too.  Those friends are the closest, and we have shared many a meal together including Thanksgiving and Christmas (pictured above).  The value in this diverse group of friends and contacts in Ireland and beyond is immense, and I find it really unfortunate that the stereotypical classification of “who is Irish” made me forget to count and value these connections provided through the Mitchell scholarship.  I’m sure you can imagine how important such connections are.

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Bloomsday! Dublin, Books, and Home

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Katie Marcum - University College Dublin

As I look around my small UCD student residence—a different room in a different building, after moving at the official end of the semester to summer housing—I’m struck by the fact that this year, no matter how momentous it has been, how difficult, challenging, frustrating and remarkably inspiring, can be reduced to the same few objects that have defined the rest of my life: books.
On the bottom shelf of the tiny, built-in bookcase, is a stack of books that I bought for school this year: primary texts, “literature,” that I have read and marked up the way I have always done. This stack contains the rejects, the unfortunate ones that I have decided, despite my fondness (or, more often, because of genuine dislike) will likely never be read again—not in the immediate future. These are the unfortunate ones that will remain in Ireland while I make the journey home next week.
For me, books have always been a symbol of time, more reliable than any clock. My childhood and teenage years are reflected in the texts that I read, and so reading them again is like looking into a photo album, my life and the text a complicated memory. My undergraduate years were also filled with stacks of books, marking the progression of a semester, a block of time defined by words I read, often from necessity, and as I became further and further entrenched in the academic ideal, rarely for pleasure. Those books, the rejects that I never would read again, were quickly sold—back to the college bookstore, to young friends taking the same classes the next year, and sometimes (if I wasn’t too lazy to make the effort), sold online for the best price. The best ones were kept, secreted away in my heart and under my bed for another, rainier day.
These books at UCD will not be sold back to the bookstore. But this stack, unlike the other that has already made the 5,000 mile journey to West Virginia in my sister’s extra bag, will not go home, to be part of the library I have been amassing for my entire life. Books in boxes, bags, and storage, waiting for the time when my life will allow me the opportunity to buy a bookshelf—the first I will ever own—and display them; proof of my life and love, a symbol of home and the passage of time.
In this stack of rejected books, there are three copies of James Joyce’s Ulysses, and I am not ashamed of this. I have one copy at home, in my imaginary library—an old, well-worn gilded copy, a gift from a dear friend, with his marks and thoughts carefully inscribed in the margins. That copy is important to me, and so I will keep it; Joyce and his Ulysses, however, I will donate to someone in Ireland who will hopefully find solace or comfort or beautiful intellectual exercise within those pages, a positive association that I have always—and will always, I think—lack with this particular text.
I have enjoyed so many things this year, a few of which have been shared in these blog posts. My final, perhaps most surprising and remarkable, day in Ireland was June 16, the anniversary of Joyce’s Bloomsday, the day of Leopold Bloom’s journey around Dublin in Ulysses. In Dublin and the surrounding villages—especially those mentioned in the book—a celebration of sorts occurs, popular with tourists, and Joyce is read everywhere, by travelers and academics and enthusiasts in period costume. I had planned to spend the day writing my thesis, but a close friend invited me to share the day with her. Our day was infinitely enjoyable, new friends and places to mark a special holiday only a bibliophile—or a Joycean—would enjoy. While I am not the greatest fan of Ulysses, it was fun to see lives–for one day, at least–defined by a book; to see the progression of an author’s thoughts and words inspire and affect more lives than mine, in a visible and joyful celebration.
I leave Ireland in a few days’ time, and I leave behind a stack of books full of pencil marks. I take with me, however, a deep knowledge of a place and its people, a national literature and personal memories of those who celebrate and contribute to it. I take home with me a soul filled with books.

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“And it’s over the fields with my pack on my back…”

Posted on October 27, 2012 by Kathryn Van Winkle - NUI Galway

I’m up on my feet, walking again—yesterday I even ran to catch a bus! The last few months have been full of travel and activity, and I’ve had lots of opportunities to dispel the restlessness that built up during my convalescence. In February I took advantage of a sunny weekend to journey into Connemara, with a backpack, hiking boots, and my cane. I stepped into a fairy tale.

After entrusting my heavier belongings to a friendly innkeeper at Buttermilk Lodge, I followed twisty roads into the quiet village of Clifden and struck up an acquaintance with a jovial dealer of intricate, mysterious objects. We spoke of the beauty we had seen in our travels the world over, and he drew me a map to my destination: the nearest castle. Upon parting, he predicted that I would be home before dark, but just in case, he lent me a light for the darkness, small enough to slip into my pocket. After fortifying myself with a pastry, I set out, past the taverns and shops, down the hill and past the harbor. Water to my left and rugged terrain to my right, I trampled happily but slowly, testing the ground with my cane, and occasionally perching on stone walls built, without mortar, by the careful hands of master craftspeople of years past. The sun began to dip, and the road became a trail became a cow path.

I met with a series of forbidding gates of stout wood; and, unable to open them, I climbed over the tops of each, wondering if I was being a perfect fool, if my actions might exacerbate my still-healing injury. Placid cows and their unsteady calves gazed at me. I realized that I might be trespassing on the land of some family of these hills. Who could they be? Were they peaceful or warlike, tolerant or fond of suspicion and fierce dogs? To turn back would be to admit defeat, but just as I resolved to end my journey while the sun still shone, I crested a final hill, and there, in the distance, loomed the castle, grey and solemn.

I could almost imagine bright candles shining through windows, loyal retainers at the door to bid me welcome, minstrels playing a merry tune in the gallery. But—no, this castle was broken and defeated, the ruined whisper of ancient bellows, still lovely, if floorless. And still another fence separated me from my goal—and a sign on the other side of that fence read “Beware of Bull.” Which meant—dear me!—that the bull resided here in this field, on my side of the fence. I felt panic and chagrin, and fought with the twisted metal holding the gate shut. I wondered if I could manage to climb over the wire and avoid the barbs. As I searched for a firm foothold in the mud, an elderly farmer suddenly appeared. I had missed his approach, and feared his reproach, but he chuckled and held up the fence at its weakest point, so that I might slip under. My rescuer showed me the castle—this was all his land—and told me tales of its ill-fated dynasty. He led me up to the main road and pointed the way back to town.

As I walked between road and houses, good humor restored, night came all at once, darker than night can be in the city. I tried to summon a lift, but my power to do so had run out. The cottages, which in daylight had seemed charming, now made me wary. The road lacked signs and landmarks, but I pressed on, grateful for the art dealer’s torch and the constellations sprawled across the sky.

I did eventually make it back to the B&B, and returned the borrowed flashlight. As always when I’ve found myself in difficulties in Ireland, I knew I could depend on the kindness of strangers.

February also hosted another amazing Mitchell Scholar gathering, this time in Belfast and Derry. We enjoyed tours, concerts, plays, and many fascinating conversations with scholars, ministers, politicians, ex-combatants, fashion designers, and filmmakers! In March I assisted Macnas, Galway’s puppet-and-spectacle company, in their St. Patrick’s Day parade show. I traveled with a production of “The Clean House” to represent my university at the student drama competition in Dublin. And at the end of the month, the staff of the Irish delegation to the European Union organized an intense introduction to the political scene in Brussels, and kindly offered us the hospitality of their own homes. From Brussels I traveled on to Amsterdam with fellow Mitchell Betsy Katz and her partner, Rachel. I loved both cities—wide avenues, frites, and Magritte; canals, raw herring with pickles and onions, and van Gogh. Many thanks to those who took time to host and speak with us in Belfast, Derry, and Brussels.

At the beginning of April, my younger sister, Tina, arrived for a month-long visit.  We saw everything, so we feel comfortable giving recommendations: Giants Causeway and the Books of Kells you know about already. But also—take the bell-tower tour at Christchurch Cathedral. Ringmaster Leslie Taylor may be looking for an apprentice! Don’t trust those disdainful hipster guidebooks: Bunratty Castle & Folk Park is utterly delightful. If you go to Killarney, you can’t miss the ruins of the abbey near Muckross House—an ancient yew tree in the courtyard, endless steps and hidden nooks.

I look forward to more visitors, more travel, Galway’s festival season, and at least two more volunteer experiences: with Theatre of Witness in Derry, and with the pre-Olympics show “Land of Giants” in Belfast. Classes are over! Summer sunshine can’t be far behind. (Right?)

Cheers,

Katie Van Winkle

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A Positive Report

Posted on October 27, 2012 by Chelsea Caveny - NUI Maynooth

Where does time go? What was that movie where the main character had a huge remote control and could fast forward through life? If I could get my hands on one of those jumbo-size remotes, I would only use the pause button.

Where do I start? I’m going to take it back to February and Student Union elections at NUIM. I was pretty heavily involved in student government politics in college (I dare to guess that this is far from rare with Mitchell Scholars), so I was really excited when a friend of mine from class approached me before Christmas about helping with his campaign. I went home for Christmas, then caught some waves in Morocco, so it wasn’t until February that I really got caught up on the campaign action. Before I could help,I had to learn the ins and outs of Irish campus politics. First off, the Student Union is a national political machine. I find the concept pretty fascinating. Here is an actual Union, filled with proportional representation from college campuses across the island. Thinking about the possibilities of this in the US is mind-blowing (a bigger country definitely complicates this model).

Once I got through the basics of learning what my friend, Seamus Reynolds, was even running for and how to get him elected, it was pretty cool to watch his support on campus grow–and grow and grow. I’m happy to say that he won! (And by the biggest margin in Maynooth history). The coolest part about Seamus is that he ran on a very alternative ticket. He talked to students about real problems, such as high rates of male suicide and increasing student fees. While his opponent ran on a ticket that strictly talked about reviving RAG week  (“Raise and Give” week is a tradition that is starting to be done away with at campuses across the island because of the level of drunkenness that takes place during the week). Seamus ran on a real ticket, addressing real problems, all while encouraging alternate and sometimes radical ways of thinking about things. Seamus’ election gives me a lot of hope for the future of Ireland. In these tough times for the island, here is a young leader who is talking about the difficult stuff.

Using my big remote, I’m going to fast forward a little bit to just a few weeks ago and a different event that left me with the same sort of warm, fuzzy feelings as Seamus’ election. A few Mitchells got the chance to travel to County Limerick and visit Glenstal Abbey. If I ever decide to become a Benedictine Monk, I want to hang out with these guys! In fairness to everyone at Glenstal, my expectations before arriving were unfair. Though I had never visited an abbey before, I expected something a little more … well, uptight. Glenstal sure did prove me wrong. Everyone we met was hilarious and charming. The entire grounds have a laid-back and comfortable feel. After a day of stimulating conversations on everything from Lady Gaga to Catholic relic history, all of us got back in the van to leave and there wasn’t a face without a big smile. It was the perfect day. It is no secret that the Catholic Church in Ireland has faced various struggles over the past decade and the role the church plays in individual lives in Ireland as well as Irish public policy is coming to a crossroads. Just like my friend’s election gives me hope for the future of Ireland, so too do the men at Glenstal Abbey.

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