Winter Time

Posted on October 27, 2012 by Mohit Agrawal - NUI Galway

When taxi drivers, store keepers, professors, and students in Galway mention the winters of 2010 and 2011, they adopt the tone of those recounting tough, repressed experiences. Ice and snow clogged the stone streets of the city as temperatures dipped to -15 C. Freezing temperatures are rare in Ireland, and these winters stuck out as particularly brutal. Just as the Irish were reaching the nadir of their economic crisis, Mother Nature took another whack.

I had learned about the unusual weather first hand. Last year, Joseph Graziano, a 2011 Mitchell Scholar, agreed to talk to me over the phone about living and studying in Galway. But I had a sinking feeling as I waited for more than an hour past the scheduled time for my phone to ring. I learned the next morning that a heavy snowfall had led to power outages in Galway, plunging Joe into the dark and cutting his Skype connection.

This winter so far had been quite mild, with no snowfall and hardly any freezing temperatures. I took advantage of the weather to visit the Christmas market in Galway several times. On one occasion, I met up with Katie Marcum and a friend who were visiting Galway for a few days from Dublin; later, students from my masters program celebrated the end of finals by heading out to the market. The market consisted of more than 30 booths of shopping, food, and entertainment (kangaroo burgers anyone?) packed into Eyre Square, in the center of town. One corner of the square, however, was occupied by Occupy Galway protestors, who are still there now in their sixth month–New York and London have nothing on these guys. The protestors were a jarring juxtaposition to the revelrous Christmas market visitors.

Our luck turned, though, one day in late January. Frigid temperatures led to ice building up layer by layer, inches thick in places. Indeed, the ice blocked our door from fully closing, and I was worried that we might face a power outage.

Katie van Winkle and I sighed. It was finally time to defrost our freezer.

Luckily, the weather outside was cooperative, mild as it had been all winter long. Katie and I tag-teamed to empty the freezer and drag it outside. But we were left puzzled. Years of no-frost American freezers had left us unaccustomed to the brutal work of a defrosting.

We tried table salt. No luck.

We tried to use various sharp-edged tools as pseudo-pick axes. No luck, though I certainly gained a new appreciation for the work of ice sculptors. We tried scalding hot water from an electric kettle. Some success, but the ice was melting at a glacial pace. Our efforts were only moderately successful, and, disappointed, we decided to take a break and try again a little later. When I checked the freezer an hour later, I was pleasantly surprised,. Icebergs the size of little mice had broken off from the main Antarctic mass. Katie and I poured in some more hot water and then made a most un-American decision: we would wait it out. We realized that the key to defrosting was to let time do its work.

The story of the freezer is a good metaphor for my experience as a Mitchell Scholar. I’ve been forced time and again to confront the limitations of my knowledge: tying shoelaces, doing laundry, and defrosting freezers. I’ve learned to be more adaptable, independent, and to take new experiences in stride.

More importantly, though, the Scholarship allowed me the luxury of time. Time to make mistakes and to learn from them. Time to read. Time to think. Time to travel. And time for Chinese takeout and TV.

In sum, my experience as a Mitchell has been composed of more than schoolwork or extracurriculars, friendships or heated dinner table debates (though I do love those debates). An integral component of the experience is simply the time, alone, that I have to grapple with my thoughts. And my freezer.

Dawn across Galway Bay, early February

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The Old and the New

Posted on February 29, 2012 by jmoldovan12

A cactus and a sheep make an odd couple. Let me explain. I began the new year very far away from Ireland, visiting my best friend who is doing research in Buenos Aires. We took a road trip to the northwest region of Argentina, traveling through unbelievable landscapes where red rock mountains peppered with enormous and sometimes hilariously shaped cacti quickly transitioned into lush green hills. Spending our first year out of college in new places far from our homes, we spent much of our trip talking about our different abroad experiences and our attempts to understand and become a part of our respective homes for the year. Despite the differences—she spends her days conversing in Spanish as a lone researcher in a sunny place where dinner begins at 9 PM (and there are alpacas, but no sheep)—I was most struck by our similar feelings that speak more to where we are in life than to our physical surroundings. One year out, we both have a never-ending list of questions about what we want to do, what will make us happy, and how best to contribute to the world and to engage with the people we care about. We are both loving our time abroad but acknowledged how hard it was to be away from the people in our lives and the worlds we had formed in the past four years (and, Mom and Dad, the last twenty-two as well!).

Following my trip, I spent a week at home surrounded by my family and friends. I admit that I was a little sad to leave them and return to Dublin, but back to the Emerald Isle I went. Greeted by the irreplaceable and incomparable Sam, I quickly perked up. During that first week, I made plans with a classmate, booked two trips with fellow Mitchells, and found a weekly traditional music and poetry event that has since become a staple in my time here. The phrases “What’s the craic?” “That’s deadly,” and “Your man” no longer sound foreign to me and, at least in my head, I no longer sound bizarre saying them. To cap it off, I even introduced an Irish friend of mine to a pub he had never heard of, much to his surprise.

With this new sense of comfort and familiarity has come an inability to comprehend that my time in Ireland is halfway done. Rather than sequestering myself in the library, which I have a tendency to do, I have made it a point to explore as much as possible. My recent trip to Galway with Chelsea (where we saw Katie in an awesome play!) has proved to me that my love of cliffs, water, and sheep will never wane. I am also very happy that I can travel with friends and family who will be visiting me in the next month so that I can enjoy Donegal, Connemara, and Belfast with a bit of home thrown in, as well as act as a tour guide in Dublin.

In addition to personal reflection, my time away abroad has allowed for thought about the States and the perhaps unavoidable comparisons that come from living in another country. In the past few weeks, my inbox has been flooded with New York Times updates and subsequent e-mail chains about the ongoing battles over women’s health. In Ireland, I attended a Seanad debate with my classmates about a controversial bill that was recently introduced, which would mandate that women comprise at least 30 % of candidates put forward by political parties in the next general election. If parties fail to do so, their funding will be halved. Ireland would join a number of other European countries if it passed this gender quota legislation. The United States ranks 71st in the world for women’s political representation and Ireland ranks 79th. To me, these statistics are astonishing and reveal a tremendous amount about what issues get swept under the rug in both countries. Although I feel removed and yearn to participate in the debates and advocacy happening in the States (and hopefully next year I will figure out a way to do so), it has been interesting to speak with feminist actors here whose sentiments and frustrations I’ve both heard expressed at home and share. I am very appreciative of those who have taken the time to enlighten and involve me over here and those at home who read to the end of my long, sometimes rant-like e-mails.

As the days pass, it becomes increasingly clear to me that my world is expanding to include new places, new language, new knowledge, and new people to think and care about. I suppose part of the fear of post-college life is that everyone scatters, people’s routines change, friendships shift, and uncertainty becomes a way of life for at least a little while. This year so far has allowed me to expand on the new and reflect on and appreciate the old. It has also enabled me to pursue a balance that I did not quite achieve in college (according to past Mitchell blogs, I’m not alone!). The image of the cactus and the sheep – one resilient, resolutely anchored, and sharp and the other relaxed, nomadic, and, well, fluffy—does not quite capture the yin and yang that I am trying to describe, but I feel that (prepare for cheesiness) no symbol would really do this year justice.

Pictures!

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Break a Leg

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Kathryn Van Winkle - NUI Galway

When I last wrote, I was traveling home to the US, excited to be be going on tour to Princeton with the Austin theatre company the Rude Mechanicals. Well, on our opening night, I fell off the stage, sprained my ankle, and broke my foot. Specifically, I broke the fifth metatarsal on my left foot—the same bone fellow Mitchell David Gobaud broke on his right foot over these same holidays. What are the odds?

There was a doctor in the house, the show did go on, and I soon learned that although navigating an airport on crutches sounds like a hassle, it’s actually the best way to travel: kind airport employees push you around in a wheelchair or drive you around on a cart, and you get to skip all the lines! I spent my holidays recuperating and trying the patience of my family and friends. On January 9, I returned to Galway, and my mother came along to help me settle in—and to enjoy some trad sessions in the pubs. Thanks, Mom. You’re a treasure!

So far I’ve had three weeks of classes—Reviewing Theatre in Ireland, Screenwriting, Post-Dramatic Theatre, and a series of workshops with members of Galway’s Druid Theatre—and I’m rehearsing for a role in Sarah Ruhl’s play The Clean House. I had some big plans—directing a classmate’s one-act play, New Year’s in Prague, learning surfing and Irish dancing, volunteering at a local school—that I had to cancel or postpone due to my injury. And my free time has been swallowed up by the sheer effort of getting places. And then recovering from the exhaustion of getting places.

But there are compensations. I walk slowly, and I notice more. I try new walking routes, seeking even, dry ground and safe crossings. When I stop and take a break I see herons and old mill wheels, children clutching handmade St. Brigid’s crosses from class and teenage girls hiding in the lee of the church, smoking surreptitious cigarettes. I find new favorite resting spots: the tapas bar on Lower Dominick, the Asian Tea House on Mary, the French bistro open until 4 am, the department store café that overlooks the river.

My visible injury has reversed the direction of the gaze. In the fall I experienced Ireland as something new and unfamiliar to peer at and study and understand. Now I am made strange—and everyone wants to talk about it, trading sympathy and stories of their own horrible accidents. Just today a man stopped his car on a busy street to lean out his window and ask me to settle a bet: skiing or horseback riding? Once a new acquaintance learns my accident occurred onstage, it’s an almost physical effort for him or her to refrain making a “break a leg!” joke. Most succumb to the pressure.

My favorite teasing response, though, was from a cab driver: “Next time, don’t jump off the stage before it rolls to a full stop!” As in stagecoach.

I take a lot of cabs lately (otherwise I’d be late to everything). From these men—and one woman! the first female cab driver I’ve ever met!—I’ve learned about the broadcasting tax, the city’s Congolese community, the danger of re-enacting Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris films, the best traditional music pub I’d never heard of, and the difference between “Galwegians” and “townies” (the former resident in the city, the latter born and bred in the old center). Thanks a million, lads.

–Katie

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Nearing the Halfway Mark

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Katie Marcum - University College Dublin

I’ve been back in Dublin for two and a half weeks now, after a very good and lengthy visit with my family and friends back in West Virginia. Finals went very well, provisional grades have been released, and this semester’s classes are starting.  It’s shaping up to be another great semester, and I can’t believe that it’s already February! Before I go on to things that I’ve been up to and am planning, I’d just like to comment on how beautiful Dublin is at Christmas time—it’s a very celebrated holiday here, and the number of lights and festive decorations were unlike any I’d seen before. The city of Dublin and its residents get excited about Christmas, and the Grafton Street area especially buzzes with holiday cheer. The displays were absolutely magical on cold nights with the happy sounds of child-sized carolers cutting through the crowds. It’s too bad I didn’t really get to experience snow in Ireland, although it did snow on December 16, the day that I left for home. After last year’s heavy snowstorms (which apparently stopped all activities for several days!), my friends here were so glad that this winter has been more typical.
Being back after my winter break is a bit surreal, for a number of reasons–primarily the fact that my experience here is nearing the halfway mark. With that in mind, I’m moving on to things that I absolutely need to do before this experience comes to a close. I’ve got a lot of things planned this semester in the way of traveling, especially after classes end in April—I’m planning a few trips to places I’m very excited to visit, both in Ireland and elsewhere in Europe. I’ll also be traveling a bit in the next few weeks: the Mitchell Scholars are having a mid-year retreat in Belfast, and in March we are traveling to Belgium for a few days kindly organized by the Irish Mission in Brussels. The trip to Belgium will be my first time on the continent, and that’s very exciting. I think I am going to take a few days on the end of that trip to explore more of the area and perhaps take the train to Paris. La ville de l’amour! I’m also determined to see more of the very active Irish theatre community during this “half,” and I’m off to a good start, with three great performances lined up in these next few weeks—a great amount compared to the single show I took in last semester.

Since I’ve returned, I’ve been busy trying to explore more of Dublin—a goal that may seem a bit strange since I’ve been living here for several months. But I am conscious of time, and I want to have as many experiences in this lovely city as I can before I go. A friend and I are back to what we have lovingly dubbed our “Saturday explorations,” which we began in earnest at the beginning of last semester but which were seriously derailed toward the end of the semester—visitors and reading and exams put a definite crunch on the amount of time we could spend together. The first weekend back, though, we made our way downtown to shop for necessities and look around streets and shops we’ve never been to before. We enjoyed strolling around in search of ethnic food markets (there are several interesting stores off the O’Connell Street area) and visiting the Temple Bar markets, where we are well-known for our indulgent enjoyment of the Good Life’s spit-roasted delicacies. Even with our long absence, we’re known as regulars, and it’s a great feeling to have something like that in this place. I’m looking forward to finding even more special places and things before I go.

In addition and related to the abstract concept of “time,” I’ve been thinking a lot these last few days about service and the dreaded “career.” Yesterday, fellow Mitchell Mohammad Modarres and I met with two representatives from UCD’s Ad Astra Academy scholarship program. The Academy has approached us to share our experiences as competitive undergraduates and as Mitchell Scholars with first-year students in the program, which offers opportunities for students who excelled academically, in the performing arts, or in sports while in secondary school (high school). Although no date has been set, I’ve certainly been thinking about “after” Mitchell and “before” as a way to to connect the things that you are passionate about with things that are beneficial (both for you and for others). This opportunity for reflection comes at a time when I’m looking toward my own post-Mitchell future, and I think it will be a great way to organize my thoughts and expectations while helping one of these first-year students create their own map for the future.

I’m aware that this entire blog entry makes it seem as though I’m counting down the minutes until my Mitchell year is over, but in reality that is far from the case. Most days I simply try to live as they come, and it’s only at times like these when I pause in deliberate reflection, aware that the clock appears to be ticking toward some great impending change. These last few days, however, I’ve been reading a lot of Irish and Appalachian poetry while preparing to organize my thoughts into what will hopefully be a reasonable thesis proposal, and I’m comforted by a few of my favorite lines from West Virginia’s poet laureate, Dr. Irene McKinney. As I think of them, I’m reminded of the friends I’ve made here, the friends I’ve left behind, and, as I said in my last entry, the places we’re all going:

Listen: there is a vein that runs
Through the earth from top to bottom
And both of us are in it.
One of us is always burning.
–Irene McKinney, “Deep Mining”

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The Thread Connecting It All

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Chelsea Caveny - NUI Maynooth

Growing up, I had an unusual obsession with the world of professional surfing. I didn’t grow up on the water. And even if I had, in Mississippi that water would have been almost completely devoid of waves. Nobody in my family surfs. I’m not even sure I knew anyone who had ever surfed, even just once, when my obsession began. For whatever reason, I chose to adopt the World Championship Tour, Kelly Slater and Roxy/Quicksilver as the sole focus of my 14-year-old mind.  But eventually, I grew up, found some more practical interests, and had almost forgotten about the love of my life–that is, until I moved to Ireland.

At the beginning of the year I went to the clubs and societies day at the National University of Ireland-Maynooth. I spent half a day walking around a large gymnasium learning about all sorts of clubs (the Trampoline Jumping Society and wine tasting stand out as a few of the more unique clubs). As I made my way, I lost all the maturity I thought I had gained during my years in college and my time in Ireland, and I was once again a 14-year-old with an odd but overwhelming obsession with surfing. There in the corner, with a board propped behind their table, was the NUIM Surf Club. I quickly paid my 2 euro joining fee and became an official member.

Throughout the year the Surf Club hosts weekend trips to the west of Ireland to surf in some frigid waters along with one international trip to a warmer destination. This year the international trip happened to be to Morocco, and I wasted no time in signing up.

I’m proud to say that just a week ago, my childhood dream came true and I finally got on a surfboard. And not only did I get on a surfboard, I actually rode some waves! I could tell all sorts of stories about Morocco–the food (yummy), the beach (beautiful), the culture–but the real reason I even brought up my surf obsession has much more to do with Ireland than North Africa.

Ireland has turned out to be the perfect sort of connecting thread that brings together all my life experiences. There is the concrete reality of living in Ireland that is opening doors for me (i.e., like seeing the world through the Surf Club☺). But also, on a more theoretical level, thoughts and interests that I’d held in separate cavities of my brain, are now being worked into conversations together, all with Ireland at the very center.

A few days ago I walked into a class to watch a short documentary about housing and race relations in South Africa. While living in South Africa in the summer of 2010, I met the filmmaker whose film I was now watching in my classroom in Maynooth. In a discussion that followed the film, my classmates referenced race relations in Mississippi in connection with the fight for affordable quality housing in inner-city Dublin. That is just one example, but I continually find myself pleasantly surprised at how it all works together.

I had had doubts about how my very specific interests in Mississippi would translate to Irish policy discussions, but they flow much more naturally than I ever imagined. It seems the center of my world is shifting from the Deep South to an island with a big impact across the ocean.

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Being a Tourist

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Elizabeth Katz - Dublin City University

For many years, I have utterly detested the sight of cameras strewn around necks and gawking eyes open wide with astonishment.  Overloaded sojourners stopped in the middle of sidewalks and even streets near designated tourist sights drive me crazy.  I have preferred going incognito and immersing myself in the life of Buenos Aires or experiencing the workweek at the Taizé monastery in the south of France.  But the Mitchell experience does not lend itself to that sort of travel.  Quick weekends abroad or family visits for explicit tourist purposes have forced me to develop an appreciation for what I used to consider the worst of tourist phenomena.

Not surprisingly, living in Europe reduces the cost of European travel.  My first opportunity came during Reading Week (a mid-semester break) at the beginning of November.  Coordinating with other Mitchells, we decided to visit Scotland, even though it would be my second time.  In 2006, the University of Georgia Honors Program offered a seminar class on Scotland with a spring break travel component.  While we completed a typical tourist itinerary, we traveled with a professor and his Scottish family, so I never felt fully like a tourist.  The Scottish Highlands were one of the most beautiful places I had ever been, and I wanted to share them with my partner and the other Mitchells.  When we arrived, however, I discovered what it meant to really be a tourist.  No one knew us; nothing was taken care of.  Gawking made it all worth it.  Sure, I pestered our tour bus driver about his opinion on possible Scottish independence, but I discovered this whole taking pictures thing wasn’t that bad.  Granted, I didn’t actually take pictures.  I was only really warming up to the idea of others’ photographic endeavors.  As Mitchell classmate Jess Moldovan was framing shots, I began to appreciate the people, places, and things in the photographs even more.

Chelsea Caveny, Jess Moldovan, Rachel Herrmann, and Betsy Katz in Scotland

That appreciation prepared me for my parents’ arrival in mid-December and our subsequent mad dash around the perimeter of Ireland.  As my mom did the driving, I started to take her camera “for her.” In Belfast, I wanted pictures of the Christmas market (though I didn’t tell anyone).  When we stopped at Giant’s Causeway, I begged my mom to take a picture of me on top of the enormous stacks of basalt.  As we sped through the countryside, I attempted to capture the strong Irish horses on film for my equestrian-enthusiast mother.  I graciously stole the camera at the Cliffs of Moher, catching shot after shot of my parents and even a short video of my partner upset at the closure of the chief viewing tower.  By the time we arrived in Dingle, I not only delighted in the enormous beauty of the place where the Atlantic Ocean meets Ireland but also appreciated the memory-saving photography.

Waving from Giant's Causeway!

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On Coffee and Culture

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Sam Yates - Trinity College Dublin

I woke up early last Friday morning to essentially do one thing: get free coffee. If you have spent any time with me, I have probably waxed poetic about my desire for coffee. What might surprise you is that I until this morning, I had no coffeemaker of my own here in Dublin. My kitchen came furnished with an electric kettle, so it seemed silly to purchase a coffeemaker that I’d eventually have to leave behind. Thus began a long, arduous battle with myself, as I was torn between feeling that I should just purchase instant coffee and wanting to go to a shop and have a proper cup of brew.

During my first few weeks in Ireland, my funds hadn’t yet hit my bank account (everything in Ireland moves much more slowly than I had expected), so I was living on cash (i.e., the cheap) until greater financial security arrived. My first day, jet-lagged and a bit delirious, I wandered into a grocery store to purchase some staples and I picked up the cheapest canister of instant coffee they had: GRANAROM. I figured that it would hold me, so I took it home and eagerly fixed myself a cup.

It was awful.

Perhaps, I thought, I’m simply not preparing it right.  I added cinnamon. I put in my soy milk. Brown sugar.  Tried making it stronger. Making it weaker.  After about 10 cups of tests, and 10 cups of disappointment, I gave up Granarom as a bad job.

So, since the first week of September, a jar of instant coffee has sat on my pantry shelf, waiting for use as I rummaged, rearranged, and selected every other item in the vicinity.  I hated to throw it away, as there was nothing wrong with it; I just didn’t care for the taste. It seemed wasteful, and you never know, maybe it would be necessary one day.  It would suffice in a caffeine-craving pinch come dissertation time.

Friday morning, however, I said goodbye to my old friend Granarom.  Bewley’s Cafe (a famous Dublin establishment cum coffee company, established in the mid-1800s) has declared this their Coffee Amnesty Weekend. If you were one of the first 1,000 people to bring in your jar of instant coffee to the main Bewley’s on Grafton Street, they would trade your jar for a free single-person cafetière and a starter pack of 5 different brew blends for you to experiment with. After waking up, responding to emails and having my morning breakfast of fruit, granola and yogurt, I gleefully packed my canister in my bag and set off in the cold toward Bewley’s.

It was strangely sad, I admit, placing my jar of Granarom into the wicker basket with other half-used jars–a cemetery for jaded java dreams.  Walking back to my kitchen at Trinity, I unwrapped the box and brewed my first pot.

Heaven.

In giving up a vestige of my first day in Ireland, I have gained a much more practical (and satisfying) prize: better coffee at home, at a much lower cost.

I still have other things to remind me of my first day in Ireland, I tell myself.  For example, I carry my cell phone (the first thing I sought out when I got off the plane, so I could safely utilize the much-needed Google maps feature) with me everywhere. Still, the Granrom was something different: it was a daily reminder of a mistake–improvidence–naiveté–and a token of how far I’ve come in learning to be self-sufficient as an adult who has to cook, clean, shop for lightbulbs (and return lightbulbs, and pay attention to correct wattage)–all in a new city, new country, new culture.

Sitting, typing this while drinking a freshly brewed cup of coffee, I own up the the fact that while I will not miss the ne’er-pleasing aftertaste of my Granarom, that jar has taught me a few good lessons over the past five months.

Over the past five months (has it only been five?! it seems like I have been living here far longer—and yet, much shorter!), I have learned so much about the person I am, and the person I want to be.  Despite my own  wonderful study abroad experiences as an undergraduate through Centre College, I would have found it presumptuous to call myself a “global citizen” before my time in Ireland.  Now, my experience as a Mitchell has allowed me to become exactly that.

It’s difficult to articulate exactly how multi-faceted the experience of being a Mitchell Scholar is. Though I am working harder than ever, I am also having a fantastic time.  Mitchells are spread throughout the island of Ireland, but, in my case, all roads lead to Dublin.  Living in the city center, I’m never more than a few blocks away from a traditional music festival, a speech at the National Gallery, or a matinee at the National Theatre.

The position of being an American immersed in a foreign culture provides a range of discourse outside the traditional US educational realm.  As a Mitchell Scholar, you get used to interacting with creatives, business people, and policymakers from both the United States and Ireland, such as local Senators and U.S. Ambassador Dan Rooney. This experience extends beyond the island: in March, for example, the ’12 Mitchells are traveling to Brussels to tour the European Commission and Parliament.  I can’t tell you how many discussions on business innovation or economic modeling I’ve found myself in; though I hold no formal training or expertise in the area, I have learned how to be an active listener, as well as to productively contribute with my own opinions as an artist. (In Ireland, the artist is seen as contributing substantially to the economy – indeed, the arts rank high as a national export and tourist feature, to say nothing of their enrichment of national culture.)

As a student in theater and performance studies, I’ve found not only these formal events, but also everyday, intimate interactions to be an incredible learning experience, both personally and artistically. They have challenged my thoughts and beliefs, and forced me to interrogate my own experience of being an American.  I hate having to bracket an observation or question with, “As an American,” but I’ve found that it’s sometimes necessary for to convey a point: in spite of all the broad similarities between Ireland and the US, there are also nuanced beliefs, communication practices, and social mores at play.

My work in the Literary Department of the Abbey Theatre Amharclann na Mainistreach (the National Theatre of Ireland) has proven a fascinating contrast to other theatre work I’ve done in the United States—particularly my experiences with the Eugene O’Neill Theatre Center.   Both literary offices dedicate much of their time to the cultivation and support of new work, yet the conversations surrounding the process are quite distinct.  I find myself increasingly interested in the ways that subsidized art systems inform the creation of dramatic works speaking to issues of nationalism, and the greater emphasis on artist cultivation rather than project development (although the latter, of course, still happens).  Too large a topic for an M.Phil dissertation, to be sure–especially once you add in a comparative discussion of other national theaters and the US, which conspicuously lacks a national producing company). Ah, well … food for doctoral thought?

On that note, I will sign off and head to work. Today is a busy one: activities for the opening night of “I (heart) Alice (heart) I” on the Abbey’s Peacock stage, a meeting on possibly being dramaturg for a production, and continued work on my dissertation proposal (to be presented tomorrow!).

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Contradicting Myself

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Anise Vanse - Queen's University Belfast

Almost halfway through.   One would think that at this point in my Mitchell year I would have a firm grasp on identity processes and divisions in Belfast.  The opposite is true.

On this very blog, I wrote that the emerging younger generation of Belfast residents might drastically influence history in Northern Ireland by virtue of their peaceful, cosmopolitan, and pluralist attitudes.  In the past couple of months, that simple assertion has been complicated by an urban geography jam-packed with class issues, continued segregation, and mistrust.  I am, by nature, a short-term cynic and long-term optimist.  I fixate on the problems we face in the here-and-now, while projecting a positive vision of the future.  Belfast’s here-and-now is ripe with issues.
Housing and unemployment, major problems that helped ignite the Troubles, continue to plague inner-city working-class communities (both Protestant and Catholic).  Belfast’s City Council has renewed its emphasis on community centers and organizations, but funding for preventive programs is scarce and the effects of that scarcity are sometimes violent.  With the so-called “peace money” dwindling, belts on all bellies are  tightening and the consequences–especially in areas where locals often describe Belfast’s current tranquility as a “bought peace” –could be dire.  Throw in a Scotland that seems to be on the verge of independence (a move that has begun stimulating debate in Northern Ireland) and one would not be irrational in stating that Belfast’s short-term future prospects may not be all roses and no thorns.
Attitudes and perceptions of the city and its future vary drastically from neighborhood to neighborhood.  By and large, the middle and upper classes see the next decade as one full of opportunity.  Downtown Belfast, rebuilt as a retail utopia and neutral space, is often cited as evidence of positive change.  On my last walkthrough, however, I noticed a plethora of retailers announcing close-out sales.  Unable to get into the black during Christmas, many shops are closing their doors.  I recalled a conversation I had a few months ago with a friend.  We wondered how a metropolitan area of only a few hundred thousand people (mostly working class folk) could possibly support such an enormous amount of luxury retail.
Less than four months ago, Belfast was vibrating with positivity.  Downtown seemed to be doing fine and the European Music Awards were going to be held in the city.  Belfast was on the map.  I hope that the optimism wafting through the streets was justified.  Any return to the violence of the latter half of the 20th century would be truly tragic.  There are, however, numerous obstacles that stand in the way of a sustainable bright future.
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Base of the Fifth Metatarsal

Posted on February 13, 2012 by David Gobaud - Queen's University Belfast

Today I write to you about the base of the Fifth Metatarsal. No, unfortunately not an exotic European mountain range, but the location of a broken bone in my foot! A week before Christmas, while taking out the trash, I slipped on a dumpster lid that was left on the ground in the dark, back hallway, of my dorm. At first I thought (and hoped…) it was just a really bad sprain. Unfortunately an X-ray the next day confirmed there was a break. I suffered a Jones fracture – a break at the base of the fifth metatarsal. I’ve been in a cast for almost two months now. The first two weeks when I was on crutches and instructed to keep weight off the foot were the worst, especially since I live on the second floor. Now I can limp around, and luckily my dorm is very close to restaurants and grocery stores. The biggest concern is that 25 percent of Jones fractures require surgery. I’m going back to the doctor in a week and am hopeful the break will show signs of healing. Below is a picture of me drying the cast with a hairdryer after it got wet.

More exciting and fun news involves meeting former Mitchell Scholars. I had a wonderful chat with Kathleen Claussen ’07 when she visited Belfast in the fall. It was great to hear about her time studying at Queen’s and learning about her experience at Yale Law. She is now serving as an Assistant Legal Counsel to the Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague. I also met Erin Breeze ’01 – one of the first Mitchell Scholars. Erin is the executive director of Seeking Common Ground and was in town to explore developing a class in collaboration with the University of Denver’s Graduate School of Social Work. The graduate level class would provide an opportunity to explore and critically analyze social work responses to Northern Ireland issues. She invited fellow scholars Anise Vance, Bree Hocking (Mitchell class of ’09 and current Queen’s PhD student), Derick Stace-Naughton, Ivanley Noisette, and me to dinner in Belfast at Made in Belfast. The food was incredible! Erin was hoping to introduce us to her favorite Irish dessert, banoffee, but unfortunately the restaurant did not have it. Luckily I found it a few days later at the superb little restaurant Cafe Renoir less than a block from my dorm. I now visit Cafe Renoir regularly and enjoy their fabulous hot chocolate and amazing pizzas. I also frequent Maggie May’s and have had just about everything on the menu at this point. I just tried the chicken curry the other day and it is my new favorite dish.


Back row: Anise Vance, David Gobaud, Bree Hocking
Front row: Erin Breeze, Ivanley Noisette, Derick Stace-Naughton

I also attended a Thanksgiving reception at the Northern Ireland Assembly with Bree and Derick. At the event we met Kevin S. Roland, the U.S. Consul General for Belfast.


Left to right: Derick Stace-Naughton, U.S. Consul General for Belfast Kevin S. Roland, David Gobaud, Bree Hocking

Currently I’m preparing for winter semester classes. I greatly enjoyed my classes last semester and am excited about winter classes starting. I’m most looking forward to Governing the Public Sector in a Globalised Context. The class covers modernization of the public sector, e-government, and government 2.0. In my spare time I’ve also returned to taking some computer science classes–online. Last semester I took Stanford’s online machine learning class. The class was phenomenal and I learned a significant amount. I had wanted to take the class while at Stanford but I didn’t have time. I’m currently going through the lectures and assignments for Stanford’s iPhone Application Development class and am thinking about developing an iPhone application soon. The potential benefit from the online education revolution is nothing short of monumental.

As I have continued to settle in Belfast, one thing I keep noticing is the different pace of life here. Things do seem to be a bit slower than in Washington, D.C –for instance, how many services that are 24/7 in the US are not so over here. I recently had to ship a package via FedEx. I called FedEx’s US number to schedule the pickup and they directed me to the UK number, but the operator let me know they are not open 24/7 in the UK.   Businesses definitely operate differently here!

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Settling In

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Ivanley Noisette - University of Ulster, Jordanstown

This month I will begin semester two of the Mitchell Scholar year. All continues to go well academically and professionally. I began working with the Northern Ireland Council for Ethnic Minorities (NICEM) last month and everyday I’m learning more about minority access to employment, housing, and the legal system in Northern Ireland. NICEM’s staff is dedicated and passionate about equal rights and justice for all people living in Northern Ireland. NICEM works in the following areas:
• Legislation and campaigning (promoting equality)
• Support to migrants
• Support to victims of harassment and discrimination
• Anti-racism training
• Capacity building (support the growth of the social economy)

Later this month, the Mitchell Scholars in the south will visit Belfast and we will spend five days with one another, meeting with community groups, journalists, and elected officials. We will also tour places like Giant’s Causeway and the various murals around the city. I’m looking forward to meeting with everyone again—it’s been a few months since we have all been together.
During the holidays I traveled to Poland, Germany, and England with friends and people from the program. This is one of the great benefits of the Mitchell year—the opportunity to explore different countries and build relationships with people from all over the world. We will all travel to Belgium in a couple months and most of us plan to visit a few other countries during spring break (Austria, France, Greece, and Spain are all potential options right now).

During the next few months I’m going to visit the countryside with some of my classmates from the north. There are so many beautiful areas in the north and the south that I will not have an opportunity to see them all, but I will try to make it to the Blarney Stone and Galway before my next blog post.

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Belfast: Part 2

Posted on February 2, 2012 by Derick Stace-Naughton - University of Ulster, Jordanstown

For the first time this year, I spent the holiday season away from home.  And though I missed Wisconsin (a place often known to my Belfast friends only as the setting of “That ’70s Show”), it was a true delight to spend the holidays with other Mitchells and Northern Ireland friends.  In fact, I attended more Thanksgiving celebrations this year than I ever have!

The University of Ulster held an informal Thanksgiving potluck event for international students; scores of UU classmates (from all over the world) attended.  The most exciting part of the evening—besides the turkey and home-made pies—was the chance to spend a distinctly American holiday with so many students from other countries, all of whom were eager to learn about the Thanksgiving tradition.  For me, explaining the story of the Pilgrims to students from all over Europe crystallized the intercultural understanding that lies at the heart of any exchange program.

Later that week I got the chance to celebrate Thanksgiving again at Stormont, the Northern Ireland Parliament buildings, with a group of American students, Northern Ireland officials, representatives of the American consulate, and others.  Once again, I was thrilled by the way that my Northern Ireland hosts so embraced the American holiday; MLAs (government officials in Northern Ireland) and other Belfast locals were eager to understand Thanksgiving and to talk about their own travels to America.  The event even featured a table full of turkey-cranberry-stuffing sandwiches!

A final Thanksgiving celebration took place in Dublin with a cohort of fellow Mitchells, hosted by an Irish businessman, Niall O’Farrell.  As a future student of business (I recently accepted a place in the Stanford Graduate School of Business’s Class of 2014!), I was excited to learn about our host’s experience building an incredibly successful countrywide business (Mr. O’Farrell started the Blacktie formalwear chain) from the ground up.  And of course it was a pleasure to celebrate the holiday with the rest of the Mitchell class.

By the time Christmas arrived I had finished my coursework and arrived in Krakow, Poland, with two other current Mitchells.  Before coming to Belfast this past autumn I had done almost no international travel, so I was eager to spend three weeks of winter vacation exploring Europe.  We spent a few days in Krakow exploring the Christmas markets and cathedrals and one very somber day in Auschwitz. We then moved west to Prague, and after a week in the “city of a hundred spires” (perhaps the most consistently beautiful, exciting city I’ve ever visited), we finished our travels in Budapest (the Turkish baths were—much to my surprise—a highlight).  The Mitchell travel stipend was put to good use!

Of course, after traveling for the better part of a month, it was a bit of a relief to arrive back in Belfast to my own apartment and bed.  Compared to the previous few weeks on the road, my room at the University of Ulster almost felt like home.

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Having the Craic

Posted on December 19, 2011 by jmoldovan12

Sheep: these cute, fluffy (arguably much softer in my imagination than in reality), rather nonchalant animals welcomed me to Ireland when I arrived with my family in August to see the sites before I settled into Trinity to begin my year as an MPhil student in Gender and Women’s Studies. On our journey from the Dublin airport toward the southwest of the country, I remembered a comment that a former Mitchell made to me before I left: “You know how everyone says Ireland is green and pretty? It’s true. People aren’t just saying that.” According to Rick Steves’ travel guide, there are more than 40 shades of green in Ireland and I’m pretty sure I saw all of them during my first week in the country. Having lived in cities my whole life, my first impression of Ireland was utter captivation at its natural splendor. I could not get enough of the water, the cliffs, and, especially, the sheep, which dotted the countryside. I recognize that this may sound like overkill (compounded for close friends and family with my subsequent proclamation that I intended to give up the scholarly life next year, become one with the land, and work on a farm), but the juxtaposition of the cliffs at the Ring of Kerry and the waves below them is one of many mental images that I will likely never forget. After about ten days meandering through the tiny streets of seaside Kinsale, absorbing the beauty of Killarney National Park, and braving the winds (and the smallest roads I’ve ever seen) at the Kerry and Dingle peninsulas, I said goodbye to my parents and began the process of making Dublin my new home.

Neither an undergrad nor a native, I quickly realized that I was beginning a new chapter in my life — away from friends, family, and the school I had called home. In this moment of transition, it was wonderful to begin getting to know the other Mitchells. We spent two weekends together in October when we met Ken Feinberg, hiked in gorgeous Glendalough (to family and friends: I told you I’m digging the nature!), had our official welcome at Ambassador Rooney’s house in Phoenix Park, saw a concert, toured Kilmainham Gaol, and enjoyed each other’s company. Following in the tradition of Mitchells before us, many of us journeyed north to a farm cottage in Derry for Halloween weekend (no sheep but many cows). Touring the murals of the city, I encountered the Troubles for the first time beyond my studies in history, and it was especially meaningful to do it with many of the Mitchells who are studying in the North. Without a doubt, the Mitchell group has been the highlight of my experience thus far. They are people with whom I can engage on any topic, who challenge and teach me, who make me laugh, and who seem to accept my dance moves, which hail from the glorious bar and bat-mitzvah era of my life. I must give a special shout-out to my friend Sam who is a constant source of support, amusement, and much-needed-food (I cannot cook) right next door. More than anything, I appreciate everyone’s willingness to discuss his or her dreams and to talk through our collective confusion about the future. In essence, I am grateful for this early openness (thanks especially to Derick, whose prodding questions helped us to get here).

In between the many events and travel, I began my course and have loved it so far. As the sole American in a group of ten, my classmates have taken to educating me about gender-related issues in Ireland both in and out of the classroom. After concentrating in history during my undergrad years and advocating for women’s rights in my extracurricular activities, I am really enjoying the community that I am forming, which traverses the academic and activist worlds. How to bridge these worlds has always been an interest and a concern of mine, and reading the works of theorists such as Judith Butler, Gayatri Spivak, and Nancy Fraser is helping to shape the directon of my thinking. Together with my classmates, I am grappling with feminist theories and their implications for the work I want to do. Again, I am touched by everyone’s openness as we delve into contentious topics, and I appreciate the group’s acceptance of my constant questioning – an American thing, I’ve been told. I have also had the opportunity to intern at the Irish Family Planning Association (IFPA), where I am learning and writing memos about ABC v. Ireland, the case that was, in large part, what made me interested in studying in Ireland. Last year, the European Court of Human Rights found that Ireland had violated the European Convention on Human Rights by failing to provide an effective means by which a woman can establish whether she qualifies for a legal abortion under current Irish law. The IFPA is working to get legislation addressing this gray area passed, and it has been fascinating to partake of the process.

Finally, despite my notorious geographical ineptness, I think I can safely say that I now know my way around Dublin. I have a favorite pub, a great late night chipper, and coffee spots around the city. Although I am certainly spoiled by living in city-center, I have started to explore the surrounding areas and plan to make trips to Howth and Maynooth (to see Chelsea in action!) when I return in January. Dublin has also been a great jumping off point to explore Europe, and my trips to London, Edinburgh, and the Highlands of Scotland have been highlights. As I finish this post, I am sitting in a hostel in Lisbon. When trying to find my way back last night, I got lost (fairly typical) and ended up at an Irish pub, packed to the brim. In a city where the temperature is about 20 degrees warmer than it is in Dublin and the sun sets about two hours later, I found myself surrounded by people chatting in Portuguese with Guinness in hand, having the craic, as the Irish would say. Two musicians took the stage and began playing traditional Irish music. Although there was not a sheep in sight, I felt immediately at home and very thankful for the opportunity to spend a year in Ireland.

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