March 2009 Reflection

Posted on March 1, 2009 by ljanson09

“One more thing—,” Eriko croaked to me with a sly grin and a dramatic pause, “I met Michael J. Fox!” My flatmate, rendered mute all last week by a nasty case of bronchitis, finally regained enough of her voice this morning to recount some adventures from her recent trip to Bhutan, the world’s only country to measure ‘Gross National Happiness’ (GNH). According to my good friend, Google, Bhutan is the happiest country in Asia and ranks among the top ten happiest countries in the world. While downing packets of Japanese medicinal powder and popping pills with the aid of a warm cup of tea, Eriko recounted how she and her Japanese tour group unexpectedly bumped into Fox and an ABC filming crew while hiking deep in the Himalayan mountains. It seems that the star was also en route to the Taktshang Monastery in Paro (a district in western Bhutan), where Eriko and her partners were headed. I was floored. She didn’t just meet the man. She hugged him and conversed for a short while. When she told him she was studying in Northern Ireland, he told her that his mother lived for a time in Belfast. Who would’ve thunk it? Eriko also explained that she and some of her travel mates were interested in the idea that the continued prevalence of matriarchal values plays a significant role in creating such a peaceful, contented culture in Bhutan. Besides getting to tell Michael J. Fox in person how much she enjoyed watching “Back to the Future” as a kid, Eriko experienced many other impromptu meetings throughout her two-week trip to Bhutan. In each meeting, she was thoroughly impressed by the warmth of those she met, who “are so grateful for what they have,” in Eriko’s words. She said it was good for her soul to meet such content, friendly people.

The past few months have indeed been a time of meetings for my flatmates and me, some chance and some planned. Most notably for me, the other scholars and I had the opportunity to meet Senator George J. Mitchell in Dublin at the end of February. The meeting was incredible. The encounter might as well have taken place on a mountain trail in Bhutan, because I would have gone anywhere to have the chance to meet Senator Mitchell. But we were very lucky; he came right to this dear island on his way to tour the Middle East as President Obama’s new Special Envoy to the region. Much of the meeting centered, quite appropriately, on Mitchell’s thoughts about the complex nature of the Palestine-Israel conflict. The meeting timed amazingly well with my Peace and Conflict Studies coursework this semester; that very week my classes focused on the history and politics of conflicts in the Middle East. I thanked my lucky stars I was not the same ignoramus I had been just two weeks earlier with respect to the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict, or I would not have understood much of what Sen. Mitchell had to say about it. I feel grateful to my masters program for finally enlightening me about many of the complexities behind our contemporary world’s major conflicts.

Speaking of one of those major conflicts: Senator Mitchell also spoke to us briefly about the experience of being at the center of the Northern Ireland peace process. He emphasized the importance of regarding peace as a fragile and continual process and not as a given point to be taken for granted (note: this is my impression of what he said, not a direct quotation!). His words assume even greater importance now, less than a month later, when Northern Ireland is appearing in international media sources almost daily because of the outburst of violence that occurred last week with the murders by I.R.A. dissidents of two British soldiers and later of a PSNI constable near Belfast. The coming together of thousands in January for the annual Bloody Sunday Commemoration March and Rally here in Derry marked another memorable meeting. For a good part of the march, my classmates and I marched just paces behind two men who have appeared in the news a great deal in the past week: Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams and Deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness. In light of the recent, particularly brutal Israeli offensive on Palestinians, hundreds of marchers waved Palestinian flags. The march raised many questions for me about how distinct conflicts may be linked to one another, either by participants in those conflicts or by outsiders. The jury is still out regarding any concrete conclusions on that topic…

This city has been filled with events that bring together all sorts of people—I was thrilled to connect with other feminist-activist women from all over in two separate events held at the Guildhall: the Foyle Day of Action on Domestic Violence and a seminar on “Embracing Diversity” organized by a well-known feminist NGO based in Dublin, Hanna’s House. I continued to revel in the diversity of other feminist activists when I traveled to Madrid in mid-February and met with women from two of the core organizations concentrating on the issue of human trafficking in Spain. In additional to the professional exhilaration I felt upon meeting leaders in the Spanish anti-trafficking movement, I got my share of carefree vacationing while in sunny Madrid. I stayed with a friend, who treated me to some of the best mariscos (seafood) I’ve ever eaten and who showed me a glimpse of the hot salsa dancing scene in Madrid. We also danced tango for the very first time, attending the €10 instructional session before a milonga with mainly retired couples whose simultaneous grace and groove I adored. I have to say that, despite my occasional teasing remarks about the city’s ostentatious architecture, my visit to Madrid was one of the best ‘weekend getaway’ trips I have ever taken.

That said, nothing beats my latest meeting: at the beginning of March, I reunited with my mother and with a good family friend of ours, Incho. They stayed for a whole week. Charged up each morning with a full Ulster fry breakfast (bless Northern Irish B&Bs!) and armed with a rental car, we toured the whole west coast of Ireland. We saw County Donegal for the first time and dipped down into the south, reaching the majestic Connemara Mountains, Yeats country, Galway, and Limerick. A veteran of touring Derry since my brother and friend visited in January, I took my mother and friend to see all the great sites here, which of course included a visit to the critically-acclaimed Tower Museum. The staff burst into laughter when they saw me walk in the door, and I was hit with a barrage of well-aimed quips: “I hope someone here is paying you for bringing in so many new customers!” “Sure, why don’t you just head on into the staff room, since you come in here as much as we do…you must work here!” The kind-hearted employees were impressed that I would keep returning to their museum, and they let me in for free. What can I say? I love seeing the beheaded dude in the ‘Siege of Derry’ section, who looks like he was stolen right out of a haunted house. Or there’s the life-sized statue of the English explorer who, clad in orange shoes resembling modern-day Crocs, charted much of the territory up north before being killed by locals who did not appreciate being ‘discovered.’ Or how about the carriage from ‘one of Ireland’s greatest love stories,’ the legendary tale of “Half-Hung McNaughton”? Poor McNaughton was a potentially gold-digging man who accidentally shot his true love (whose family also happened to be quite wealthy) while attempting to extract the fourteen-year-old from a carriage which the girl’s disapproving father was using to transport her away from McNaughton. He was eventually captured for the murder of the girl and sentenced to be publicly hanged in Strabane. On the big day, the rope broke, however, and the crowd urged McNaughton to go free. He declared, however, that he did not want to be known as ‘half-hanged McNaughton,’ so he bade the hangman take a second try, which then succeeded. Don’t you just love the irony that his act of bravery was for naught, given his current moniker? All this history is too rich to miss! I could never get sick of visiting the Tower Museum.

Spring has begun popping up its head in these parts, in the form of brilliantly-colored crocuses and daffodils on the Magee campus, or the occasional sunny, warm day, but just when I feel ready to declare it officially springtime, we are quickly plunged back into cold, rainy, and grey days. In an effort to create a more lasting (if small-scale) spring, I bought a hyacinth and a begonia for our flat, so Block 12 has been filled with lovely lavender and yellow blossoms for the past couple of weeks. I hope nature takes the cue and gives the yearning masses (err, me) the warmth and growth we (I) so desire. I’m off now to return some overdue books to the university library. The hardest cultural difference for me to overcome here is being charged 50p a day for overdue books instead of the ‘nickel a day’ to which I’ve been accustomed my whole life. I already tried that angle on the librarians here, and they aren’t having it. It seems I must accept that my shelves and pockets will both be empty in a matter of minutes. *sigh*

Posted in Class of 2009, University of Ulster | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on March 2009 Reflection

March 2009 Reflection

Posted on March 1, 2009 by crosson09

The past three months seem to have flown by. I am still enjoying my time here in Ireland, and I look forward to the final months of my adventure here. Since my last journal entry, I had a birthday, explored Belfast, met with Senator George Mitchell in Dublin, and reconnected with Kansas City in an unconventional way.

On February 17, 2009, I turned 25 years old. In order to celebrate the occasion, Kacey and I decided to play the part of tourist here in Belfast. We started our day with a walk up Sandy Row, where we noticed that the curbs and other signs were painted red, white and blue in reference to the Union Jack, and there were many large murals illustrating the Loyalist sentiments of this area. The stroll was a fascinating look at the on-going tensions of this city in the North. We continued on to what might be called New Belfast, the area along Queen’s Quay. Here we took in lovely views of the giant yellow cranes that define Belfast’s harbor named Samson and Goliath. It was dusk, and the view over the harbor was simply breathtaking. From here, we continued on our walk along the Newtownards Rd. into East Belfast. This area is also a largely Loyalist area of town and hosts numerous other Unionist murals. Eventually, we made our way down a few miles along the Newtownards Rd. to the C.S. Lewis Memorial, which was our ultimate destination for the day. I spent some time studying C.S. Lewis at Oxford University, and I greatly enjoy his writings. Lewis was born and spent much of his childhood in East Belfast, and this memorial was a tribute to the man and his body of work. The memorial is a statue of a character from Lewis’ series, The Chronicles of Narnia, peering into the famous wardrobe that opens the door to his famous magical world. It was a fitting tribute to the local boy whose imagination captured the hearts and minds of so many others. Although the day was filled with diverse and exciting experiences, indeed the highlight of the day was the birthday cake that Kacey baked for me. The cake was very Irish through and through. It was a chocolate cake that contained a special ingredient…a potato! The cake was then topped off with a Bailey’s Irish Crème Icing and a Shamrock design. Potatoes, Baileys and Shamrocks…it doesn’t get much more Irish than that!

In addition to the events of my 25th birthday, the day also caused me to pause to reflect on the past 25 years. Having lived only a quarter of my life at this point, it is clear that I have been blessed many times over. I have been fortunate enough to be educated in some of the world’s greatest academic institutions. I have traveled to nearly every continent of the world. I am blessed with a loving family. And most importantly, I fell in love with the woman of my dreams, and we are living out those dreams every day. God has been good to me, and I am more than thrilled to be where I am at this stage in my life.

The other significant event of the past few months was indeed a highlight of my time here in Ireland. A few weeks ago, we Mitchell Scholars had the honor of meeting with Senator George Mitchell in Dublin. We shared casual conversation for a couple of hours on topics ranging from Northern Ireland and the Middle East to what each scholar hoped to do after our time here in Ireland was over. I found Sen. Mitchell to be an agreeable man of integrity and poise. My impression was that his dedication to public service is unwavering, and his desire to make a positive difference in the world unquestionable. But more than anything, I was impressed by how “normal” he was. He was humble, humorous, and sincere in every action. We are all blessed to have such a man working on behalf of peace in the most difficult areas of the world.

Finally, it might have been a bit of homesickness or nostalgia, but I decided to pick up David MacCullough’s Truman the other day from the Queen’s University library. I have been meaning to work through this 1,000+ pages chronicle of President Harry S. Truman’s life for some time now, but never seemed to have the time to. It seems a bit odd that I had to travel so far away from home, to read up on one of my hometown heroes and one of America’s most beloved personalities. Reading the book has a very special significance for me, as the references to street names, buildings, and areas of Kansas City, Independence and elsewhere in Missouri are much more than mere print to me…they are in many ways the backdrop to my own formative years. When MacCullough talks about the Jazz District at 18th & Vine St. in Kansas City, I can all but hear the sexy saxophone solo coming from the Blue Room. When he mentions Truman’s speeches on the steps of the Independence Courthouse or his later life at the Gates-Wallace House on North Delaware Street, I recall fondly my elementary and high school education at a small school just blocks away. And when MacCullough describes Kansas City from the West Bottoms to the Riverfront to Truman’s haberdashery on 12th St. in downtown, a smile comes to my face and a glimmer in my eye as I reflect on how much the center of my hometown has changed since Truman’s days but how much character it has retained.

In the remaining months here, I hope to finish up my studies at Queen’s University, spend more time exploring the Emerald Island, and prepare for my return home. This entire experience is truly a blessing, and I am forever grateful!

Posted in Class of 2009, Queen's University Belfast | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on March 2009 Reflection

March 2009 Reflection

Posted on March 1, 2009 by rmccartney09

Since today is the Feast of St. Joseph and two days ago was the Feast of St. Patrick and since I have been something of a recalcitrant Catholic the past few months, I figure this is as good a time as ever to make a confession: I have yet to turn in a Mitchell reflection on time. Today is Thursday, March 19. This journal entry was due Sunday, March 15. And when I turn in this third Mitchell reflection, I’ll likely include a lengthy e-mail mea culpa to Mary Lou.

I’ll be the first to admit that my inability to turn these in on time is inexcusable. The U.S.-Ireland Alliance has given us the opportunity of a lifetime, for free. In the past two journal entries I’ve written at length about how grateful I am to be over here in Ireland for a year with a group of 11 of the most interesting and motivated people I’ve ever met. I honestly count my blessings every day when I take a step back from it all and hear stories about Adam doing a 16-term sum in his head to the amazement of his colleagues at Cork or about Tyler’s work to publish his book amid the rigors of 1L up at Queen’s or about Vicki’s cult-like status, even today, at the Naval Academy. Every day, I get the feeling I am surrounded by the men and women who will become giants. Meanwhile, the Mitchell continues to provide us with extracurricular opportunities that are unparalleled. Whether it be going to the U.S. Embassy’s election night party at the Guinness Storehouse in November or, more recently, getting the chance to sit down with Sen. Mitchell himself in Dublin, I have to say I’ve had to pinch myself more than a few times since I first got to Ireland last September. And for it all, the only thing the Mitchell requires in return are four simple reflections. But I struggle to get them in on time, every time.

Needless to say, it came as something of a relief this past St. Patrick’s Day when Vicki, Travis and I discovered that we had all missed the March 15 deadline. And, to further appease my Catholic guilt, I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Mary Lou met up with us at Croke Park later on in the day and told us that she would not get around to reading the reflections until the weekend anyway. Mary Lou’s dispensation does wonders.

But I’ll make another confession: I secretly kind of enjoy the fact that I haven’t turned a reflection in on time. It’s somewhat liberating. I think (perhaps hope, for my own sake) that some of the other Mitchells agree. We lived our high school and college careers adhering to deadlines and due dates and rushing from one meeting to another with little time to think about much more than the next thing on the schedule for the day. This year, for the first time in a long time, we get to slow down and worry less about time constraints and more about the quality of the experiences unraveling before us. I wrote my first Mitchell reflection in an airport on the way to Barcelona. I turned in my second late because I was immersed in a fascinating final paper that would become — I now realize — the springboard for my thesis, which I’ll turn in next September. And this third reflection comes on the heels of two incredible weeks spent traveling around Ireland by car with my girlfriend, Lindsey, and then arriving back in Dublin to celebrate St. Patty’s with some good friends from high school and what seemed like half of the Naval Academy. For those weeks, I truly did feel like an “ambassador” — as Jose put it in his own first Mitchell reflection this past November. I came to realize during that incredible stint that I had made Ireland my own. When I spoke about Ireland’s Six Nations rugby team, I used the pronoun “we”. When I told stories, they were a bit more convoluted. And when I walked around Dublin, I felt I was showing people around my hometown.

Since I wrote my last reflection, school has begun to pick up again. After finishing up first semester papers, Jose and I traveled to London and then to Wolverhampton, England where we met up with Vicki and the Navy crew to compete in a bizarre endurance competition called “Toughguy”. After, Vicki and I went down to southern England where we stayed with a Marshall Scholar from the Naval Academy. Classes started soon after, and the rest has been a blur of academic work, preparation for the upcoming May 10 Prague Marathon, and, of course, the simple experiences of being in Ireland and attaching more experiences with more places.

So, to be very honest, I have secretly enjoyed being able to take it all in without worrying about prematurely penning a reflection. And at this point, as I conclude this third reflection four days after it was due, I have to say that I’ve begun to embrace “Irish time”, as they call it over here, in a way I never thought I could as a second semester senior at Duke at this time last spring. All this said, I still do appreciate the value of deadlines and due dates. The world of the college newsroom is still not that far behind. And so, as a penance for this reflection-turned-confession, I promise, Mary Lou, that I will have that fourth reflection in on time. Mea maxima culpa.

Posted in Class of 2009, Dublin City University | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

March 2009 Reflection

Posted on March 1, 2009 by vmoore09

I catch myself doing it more frequently now. It started off subtly, merely a change in intonation when asking questions, saying “hiya” when greeting people, and getting people’s attention by saying “sorry.” Now, I catch myself saying “your man,” “thanks very much,” and “brilliant” without a second thought. Irish-isms are seeping into my vocabulary. I even use “footpath,” “proper,” “grand,” and throw in an “I’d say” or “I figure” when making a statement. “Like” also has begun appearing at the end of my sentences, not as a pause between thoughts. I noticed that the changes in my vocabulary became most pronounced after participating in a Suas training weekend in Maynooth, where I was immersed in a group of 100 Irish students for three days. By the end, I even called a car trunk a “boot.” It has gotten to the point where two Americans who I hadn’t met before asked some of my friends if I was Irish because I spoke with an “accent.” It’s not that I am intentionally changing my speaking habits; rather, I suppose (there it is again!) that it is a natural result of living in a place for an extended period of time.

I made it one of my goals this year to learn about and better understand Ireland and Irish culture. I’ve found “loads of” ways in which I am gaining a better understanding of what makes Irish people tick. I’ve done this through many trips to the pub with my Irish classmates, going on runs with my friend Claire from Cork, getting involved in extracurricular activities, and participating in many tours and historical visits around the island. Subsequently, my increased knowledge of the Emerald Isle is beginning to change me. I’m becoming more Irish in many ways, including in my speaking patterns, daily schedule, eating habits, knowledge of popular culture, charity work, understanding of Irish politics, travel, and ability to act as a cultural ambassador.

Along with vocabulary, my method of storytelling has changed as well. Irish people, perhaps as a result of their oral tradition, are not as straightforward in speech as Americans, frequently taking the indirect route in sharing information. I have begun throwing in extra words into sentences as well, a trait less than desirable for a naval officer. For instance, instead of simply saying, “It’s cold outside,” I find myself saying, “It’s cold enough out there for ya, isn’t it?” The content of my stories has changed as well. Irish people often tell stories within stories, and talented storytellers always bring their “diversion” right back to where they left off in the main story. One of my lecturers, a quintessential Irishman from County Clare, is a master storyteller and I could listen to him for hours (Full disclosure: he’s so good that I am sitting in on two of his classes). I’ve noticed myself doing the same, taking much longer to complete a story and sharing bits of information that add something extra to the tale at hand.

Along with the Irish infusion into my vocabulary and speaking habits, I am becoming more Irish by learning Irish, or “Gaelic” for the American audience. Thanks to my weekly Irish class, I can now make very, very small talk with the native Irish. I can greet people with “Dia Guit,” ask how people are doing in all three major dialects, and tell people I live in Baile Átha Cliath (Dublin in Irish). I can also count to 100 (a great party trick) and also state my phone number in Irish in case I get hit on in the Gaeltacht, or Irish-speaking areas of Ireland. I’m also getting to the point where I can actually read and pronounce Irish public signs, a necessary trait when driving around the Dingle Peninsula. Though Irish linguistic skills may be of little use outside of the island, the coolest part about learning Irish is the reaction of my Irish friends when I try to speak it—they really appreciate the interest I demonstrate in their country. Learning Irish also allows for a new level of appreciation of Irish culture through an understanding of the roots of the distinctive accent and the impetus behind certain Irish phrases. Plus, it’s always good craic!

My daily schedule has also become significantly more Irish. I’m now used to operating on Irish time, which is much more fluid than that in the States. In fact, last week I was surprised when I met some of my American friends at Trinity Gate and they were actually on time—I’ve gotten so used to the Irish ten minute to an hour grace rule. I’ve also taken to running in the evening, which is apparently the primetime for people to work out in Ireland. I’ll go for a run at two in the afternoon and see absolutely no one, but if I wait until 8pm, I’ll run past at least ten people. I haven’t yet adopted the Irish workout attire of a GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) jersey though! Also, I’ve also become accustomed to going out for pints with my classmates a couple of times a week, especially to celebrate completing a paper for class. I really enjoy the social aspect of the pub culture here in Ireland— it does not really exist in the States. Incorporating trips to the pub into my schedule has also made me more Irish.

My culinary tastes have been altered as well. I’ve become a connoisseur of pub grub and Irish breakfasts. I’ve also taken to drinking tea with milk and sugar on a daily basis. I’ve also come to love Indian food (the Irish version of Mexican food, which is available at both fancy restaurants and kabob vans in every village). Though I am still unwilling to eat more than one kind of potato at a meal and season my chips (French fries) with curry, I do enjoy a good carvery lunch and the fried cod at Leo Burdock’s Fish and Chips, the best in Dublin. I’ve even put on a few pounds to demonstrate my dedication to Irish cuisine.

I’ve also gained an understanding of Irish popular culture. My biggest accomplishment thus far has been watching all 25 episodes of “Father Ted”, a late 90’s sitcom about priests in the west of Ireland that is consistently referenced in everyday conversation. I now know what people are talking about when they mention the episode on the plane, “My Lovely Horse,” Dougal’s goofy faces, and the milkman in “Speed 3.” Sporting-wise, I also had the chance to attend my first hurling and Gaelic football matches on St. Patrick’s Day in Croke Park. Thanks to the expertise of my good friend Oonagh, I now understand the scoring and rules for both games! It was great to finally experience the excitement of Croke Park as well as hear the Captain’s speeches in Irish following their victory. GAA sports are such a big part of Irish culture; it was fulfilling to finally see them firsthand in Ireland’s most historic stadium.

Also in sports, I’ve really enjoyed cheering on Ireland to the Grand Slam during the Six Nations Rugby Championships, especially since Ireland went undefeated! The England-Ireland match in Croke Park was particularly intense for historical reasons—I felt like I was watching the Army-Navy football game on a nation-state level. The Wales match for the Grand Slam this past weekend was particularly close as it came down to a missed Welsh field goal in the last few seconds. It was great fun to watch the game in the student bar at DCU surrounded by rabid rugby fans and then head down to Quinn’s Pub with them afterwards for some post-match celebration. I’ve finally learned all of the rules to rugby and actually prefer it to American football, thanks to the Irish.

On a random note, I’m socially becoming more Irish because I’ve started running into people I know everywhere. Ireland’s population is only five million and my friends always joke about coming across people from their hometown or school unexpectedly. I’ve been here long enough that it has finally started happening to me, particularly during the past week as I led a group of thirty people around Dublin for St. Patrick’s Day. I ran into friends from my course on O’Connell Street, teammates from Suas walking through Trinity Gate, and others in random pubs. Ireland really is a small country.

I’ve also become involved in charity work and fundraising, another Irish pastime. Irish people, perhaps because of their economic history and Catholic faith, are very active in giving to charity and raising money for good causes. I have become involved with Suas, an Irish charity that promotes Educational Development in Ireland, Kenya, and India, to complement my International Development Masters. I was selected to participate as an Overseas Volunteer for a 10-week work placement at Gatoto School in Nairobi, Kenya. In Nairobi, I will be witnessing firsthand the challenges of development that I have been reading about for my degree. I will be serving as a teaching assistant and help run a summer camp for Gatoto children along with 11 other Irish students.

The best part about getting involved with Suas has been getting to know the other volunteers who will be traveling overseas with me. Suas has getting to know people down to a science—I met my teammates over one weekend and I already feel like I know them better than people I’ve known for months. The caliber of the people involved in Suas is also very impressive. Because of Suas’ challenging application process and knack for putting diverse teams together, everyone selected is incredibly motivated and has a variety of talents that allow for strong, versatile teams overseas. With the other volunteers, I also attend weekly meetings hosted by Suas on global issues, such as childhood inequality and HIV/AIDS. In a seminar setting, we discuss the issues’ effects on development. We’ve also even begun to take Swahili classes at the Kenyan embassy! I’m really excited for the summer, both to further my development education and also to spend more time with Irish people. My teammates have already promised to teach me the Irish national anthem!

The only difficult thing with getting involved with Suas is fundraising. In order to make it to Nairobi, I must raise nearly 3,000 euro, which can be difficult when one is based in a foreign country. In order to do this, I am running the Prague Marathon in May for Suas, hosting a pub quiz on April 1 at Matt Weldon’s, and bag packing in May. If anyone is interested in donating to Suas and supporting me in the marathon, the web site is http://www.mycharity.ie/event/vicki_moore_suas_marathon/.

I am also taking a course in Irish Politics this semester, which has allowed me to better understand the inner workings of the Irish government and the criticism heaped on politicians by the Irish. I have never been exposed to a parliamentary system before, so it is interesting to learn how it differs from the American system. I’ve also really enjoyed learning about Irish political parties and understanding the claim that there aren’t any differences between them; the only difference is historical and is a result of the Anglo-Irish treaty. Learning about Irish neutrality and the role of the President has also been very enlightening. I’ve always enjoyed studying different political systems, and now I have the chance to do that in Ireland.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve also had the opportunity to travel more in Ireland and appreciate its natural beauty. My brother, his friend Matt, and my friend Stef visited just two weeks ago and we drove down to the southwest, around the Ring of Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula. We saw some sites worthy of National Geographic posters, featuring some devastating cliffs, picturesque mountain lakes and waterfalls, extreme sheep snacking on tremendous inclines, and narrow roads that would pass as bike lanes in the United States. We also stopped in several great pubs, particularly in Dingle, and enjoyed a bit of Guinness and cider! Along with traveling in Kerry, I also made it down to Cork on two occasions recently. My favorite place that I visited was Fota Wildlife Park, a large zoo with freely roaming animals—Kangaroos and peacocks literally pop up right next to you! It was slightly disconcerting to see zebras and giraffes in the beautiful hills of Cork, but it was nonetheless a memorable experience. Getting to experience more of Ireland’s beauty has also made me more Irish.

I also had the chance to act an unofficial Irish ambassador for my many friends who visited during St. Patrick’s week. Not only did I introduce them to hurling, Gaelic football, and the joys of Korean Food in Dublin’s Chinatown, I was able to successfully lead them through the city and introduce them to many of Dublin’s finest pubs. The real highlight for me though was introducing them to Ireland’s history, whether through a tour of Kilmanheim Gaol, sharing a brief synopsis of the Irish independence movement while walking past Christ Church, or pointing out the numerous statues in the city center and explaining to them why these people were honored. I feel like I’ve really gotten to know Dublin over the past couple of months and I love sharing its stories with my friends. As I explained to some of my former teammates while telling them Grace Gifford’s story at Kilmanheim Gaol, I love Ireland because of its incredible and emotional history, particularly because despite the sadness of much of its stories, Irish people remain optimistic, happy, and full of personality. I had the chance to share my passion for Ireland with many of my friends from the States and I’m sure that some now have a latent desire to move to Ireland.

Through the past several months, I have noticed many ways in which I am becoming more Irish. I speak in a more Irish way; understand popular culture references; eat, drink, and live like an Irish person; travel around the country; share Ireland’s history with visitors; and remain involved with Irish organizations. An example of my newfound Irishness was evident this past weekend when I was out with my friend Oonagh at Quinn’s pub following Ireland’s grand slam victory. Oonagh introduced me to people not as an American, but as an Irish-American. Though that may not be ethnically true, my spirit (and my vocabulary) sure feel that way after six months in Dublin.

Posted in Class of 2009, Dublin City University | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on March 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by erhoda09

Michael O’Loughlin’s office looks like God’s waiting room. It’s on the top floor—the fifth—of the Oscar Wilde Center, off a tiny landing, behind a white door. At the far end of the room are two tables and two chairs. On the table to the left is a computer, and on the other table are nine books. That’s it. The walls are white, and there are no windows except for one in the ceiling.

I came here yesterday to do something I normally avoid. I wanted him to read my poetry. Michael is a poet and is the Irish Writer Fellow this term at Trinity. Finding people who write or have written poems is a bit like finding stars on a clear night in the country. They’re everywhere. But finding actual poets—people who make a living from their work and are identified by others as poets—well, that’s more like finding stars on a cloudy night in the city. It’s possible but rare. And here was one before me.

I showed Michael six poems. Two are pretty much completely done, which means they could change a little tomorrow or next month but that they’re mostly done. Four are poems that are nearing being pretty much completely done. (No scientific terms here!) With a cursory reading, barring a few minor details, he liked them. “They’re quite good, really,” he said. I walked back to my building and up to my room. When I reached my floor, I was out of breath and only then realized I’d run up the four flights of stairs.

Earlier yesterday, Tony Curtis was a guest lecturer for one of my creative writing classes. He’s a prolific Irish poet who won the National Poetry Prize in 1993. In other words, he’s one of the best living poets in Ireland. He told us that he normally only reads his poetry aloud in October, November, and December and that the rest of the year is devoted to writing. “It’s January, but I was asked to do this, so,” he paused and spread out his arms, “well, why not?”

Tony stood in front of us and recited his poetry from memory, smiling and staring at each student while he spoke. He was awkward in his body, jerking one way and turning his head the other. His poetry wondered at the world around us. In the wind, a woman clamps her hand over her hat, holding in the birds. Poets run a motionless Olympic race. A person abroad sings three songs of home. I could see it.

He said he often writes poems in his head, and he recited two that he’d not yet written down. He told us the stories behind his poems: how on vacations growing up, he and his family went to a monastery where other family members were monks. He talked about how he was approached by a man in Australia and asked to write a poem for the man’s boat. He described how his mother asked him to write a poem for his father’s funeral. At some points during his poems, the entire class laughed, and at the hour’s end our applause echoed against the walls of the small room.

He bent to hug and thank our course coordinator Deirdre Madden and then walked out of the Oscar Wilde Center through the door students aren’t allowed to use, for safety reasons, onto the streets of everyday people. His long black coat flapped up behind him. He looked like any passerby. We’re a week and a half into our second term, and it’s gone by fast. After spending Christmas in Maine, it’s both strange and freeing to be back in Ireland. This term is busy, with writing deadlines, poetry submissions, an anthology to compile and edit, essays to finish, writers to meet, and work to do as the new Dublin editorial assistant for Irish Pages, a well-known literary journal in Ireland. Each day brings me more into the world of writing, and it’s both thrilling and daunting.

I had wanted Michael to read my poems, but I’d also wanted to get at something else. I’d wanted to ask him: is it worth it to be a writer? It’s not as if I don’t enjoy writing. I do—as much as it’s possible to enjoy hard work. And it’s not like I have a choice: I’m a writer and will always be one. Rather I wanted to know if everything I was working for was worth it in the end. It’s something many people ask themselves, I think, particularly writers since it’s their duty to question everything. That’s what writing is: a series of mysteries, questionings, and attempts to depict what is often indefinable. Maybe my question about worth was a silly one; maybe it was relative and unanswerable. But I wanted to see what he’d say. I was curious.

As any professional would, he said he didn’t know why I was worrying so much and that of course I should continue to write. Suddenly I didn’t know why I was worrying either. The key, I realized, is the attempt to understand. The important thing is to question. And, as Tony put it, “Why not?”

Posted in Class of 2009, Trinity College Dublin | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by rmccartney09

January is paper period at Dublin City University. Thus, when Christmas vacation came to an end two weeks ago, I began to dread the prospect of coming back to a mostly empty campus to spend long days in the library reading and even longer nights sequestered at my desk writing. (Imagine the heresy of not wanting to come back to Ireland! I know, I know.)

I got back to Dublin last Wednesday, Jan. 7, and immediately proceeded to do what any self-respecting student does in times of stress — the most unproductive thing possible. In my latest bout with procrastination, I became a peripatetic. Or, at the very least, I began walking a lot, from the mystifyingly circuitous cul-de-sacs around DCU to the overgrown greens of Phoenix Park and over the dried-up canals that criss-cross Dublin’s Docklands. All the while, I began to appreciate what Heidegger called the Alltaglichkeit, or “everydayness,” of a city I (mistakenly) told my parents I was coming “home” to at the end of Christmas break.

And then I went to the library and began work on Eamon de Valera and Jurgen Habermas — two papers that far surpass in overall quality about 90 percent of the work I produced as an over-anxious undergrad at Duke. It’s amazing what a whiff of salty air from the Docklands can do. Of course, I still have one paper left. So I might be writing a very different journal entry come Jan. 27.

Regardless, I’ll echo several Mitchells who penned this January journal entry in the past when I say that it’s incredibly hard to believe that the year is already halfway done. Second semester classes begin Feb. 9. In the meantime, I’ve been writing and “training” for a “Toughguy” (apologies for the quotation marks) competition in Wolverhampton, England, which two other Mitchells and a number of our friends from the Naval Academy are embarking on as a team “January 32” (again with the quotation marks). In addition, another marathon — the May 10 Prague Marathon — lies on the horizon.

I also want to travel more extensively throughout Ireland this semester, to Waterford and Donegal and Sligo and Kilkenny, to name a few spots. I recently sent an e-mail to DCU’s “Surf ’n’ Sail Club,” through which I hope to: (1) learn to surf, thus becoming one of the select few people in the world who can say, “Yeah, I learned to surf in Galway”; and (2) see smaller, off-the-beaten-trail towns on the island’s west coast. All the while, I’m continuing on with my promise to myself to read all the books I should have read in high school and college: Joyce’s Ulysses, de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, Huizinga’s Homo Ludens, Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, Russell’s History of Western Philosophy, etc.

And finally, I want to continue to enjoy the everydayness of Dublin and, even more than that, my day-to-day experiences with the other Mitchells. There are, I am beginning to realize, only a few times in your life when you can surround yourself, on a regular basis, with a group as dynamic and ambitious — but at the same time down-to-earth — as the current group of Scholars. More than the long days in the library and longer nights in front of the computer screen, I’ll remember, when this crazy, incredible experience is over, the time when I took a break from research in the UCD Archives and had lunch and a coffee and a long conversation with Jose this past December.

For me, this year is about striking a balance. It is, I admit, something I’ve always struggled to do.

On a more practical and slightly less paean-ic level, though, the end of the first semester also brought with it the heady realization that I need to get a job after I turn in my thesis nine months from now, which, given the current economic clime, is anything but easy these days.

And with that note, I’m going for another — particularly long — walk.

Posted in Class of 2009, Dublin City University | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by atart09

In the two months since my last journal entry, my daily amount of schoolwork at UCC has increased tremedously. Thus my last two months in Ireland have had a very different character than my previous five — but don´t think that that´s a bad thing! One of the main reasons I was excited to move to Ireland and pursue a master´s degree in computer science was that I couldn´t wait to study the field I knew I was so passionate about but had yet to pursue in my previous degrees. (I was passionate about my previous degrees, too, though!) School has been much more difficult lately, with most weeks including at least three all-nighters of coding. But whereas most people would shudder at the thought of such a situation, I´ve never been happier with the way school has been going. I´m proud (albeit unfortunately, depending on my mood!) to say that I could easily be happy sitting at a computer for days on end solving complex programming problems, fine-tuning programs until they work juuuuust right. And UCC has given me that opportunity! I feel so lucky to have had this taste of a career I know I will be passionate about. I´m really looking forward to getting started with computer science work and research in the “real world” and through a PhD (once I narrow down my specific research field of choice).

Of course, as much as I love programming computers, my life would be pretty unwell-rounded if sitting in front of a screen was all I ever did. And my experience in Ireland and elsewhere abroad would certainly not, in my opinion, have been spent to the fullest. So I have made every effort possible to travel and experience the outdoors in my free time. One of my favorite recent travels was to Venice for Valentine´s Day. Neither my girlfriend nor I had been before, so we were incredibly excited to experience one of the world´s most romantic cities on one of the world´s most romantic days (according to Hallmark, at least). The city certainly did not disappoint! The twisting, narrow alleys, devoid of cars, and bordered by gently flowing canals was absolutely enchanting, made moreso by the delicious food and wine, beautiful weather, and all-around pleasant atmosphere, architecture, and environment. And, lucky us, we arrived at the beginning of Carnival, Venice´s annual special holiday where everyone wears masks and costumes and overflows their parties from the bars and restaurants into the streets and squares. If you´ve never been, you must go. I´m so glad I did and can´t recommend it enough!

If you´ve read any of my previous entries, you would know just how much I have enjoyed the mountaineering club at UCC. Well, I wouldn´t want to disappoint my faithful fans by not mentioning it in this entry as well. One of my recent favorite trips other than Venice was a 3-day weekend hiking excursion to the southwest of Ireland to a city (rather, a small town) called Portmagee in County Kerry that overlooks the Atlantic. The trip was by far my favorite hike with the club and provided possibly the best scenery I´ve seen yet in the Emerald Isle. The highlights included giant, Celtic crosses atop a mountain shrouded in mist, smooth green hills rolling out into the ocean, and some of the best craic (Irish for extreme fun) with tons of great new friends I´ve had in recent memory. I´ve said it before, so why not say it again: if you attend UCC sometime in your life and enjoy hiking, join this club!
One other highlight of the past two months was getting to meet Senator George J. Mitchell himself. All of the scholars who could attend met up in Dublin along with Trina Vargo (the US-Ireland Alliance´s founder, president, and dignitary-extraordinaire) and eagerly awaited Senator Mitchell´s arrival. He soon sat down with us and spent the next hour and a half or so telling us some great stories from his life, including his experiences with the Ireland/Northern Ireland troubles and with his new role as the U.S. envoy to the Middle East. His resolve, passion, and intelligence (all of which were easily evident in our rendez-vous) make him a true inspiration, and I feel privileged both to have met with him and to participate in a scholarship program in his honor. (My raise in funding will arrive any day now! Hah… Just kidding!)

I´m in Barcelona writing this now (another FANTASTIC destination), so I will close this entry and continue to enjoy the rest of my time here. My time in Ireland really has flown by, but I´m so glad that I´ve had experiences like this one and those mentioned above and in previous entries, and I´m so glad to met the people that I have and to have formed a lifelong bond with one of the most amazing countries and peoples in the world. Excitingly enough, I know that even when this program is over, because of the bonds I have formed and the memories I have made that have made such an impression on me, I know I will continue to strengthen them and make more throughout the rest of my life. And I can´t wait! Adios!

Posted in Class of 2009, University College Cork | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by ljanson09

I just completed my last final exam from the past semester and find myself sitting on a tall stool in the snug, second-floor library café on my campus. Despite an impromptu post-test debriefing with my classmates in front of “the castle building” (as we affectionately call our beautiful, Gothic Great Hall), my brain is still buzzing with key phrases I learned for our exam essays, such as “the Prisoner’s Dilemma,” “there’s a difference between a wink and a blink,” and “war cannot be eliminated without eliminating patriarchy.” Before entering the café, I browsed the stacks and picked two “français facile” yellow, level-one books (one day I aspire to reading the blue and green ones) for an upcoming assignment in my French class. The series is aimed at novice French students. Basically, the publishers take classic works of literature and boil them down to limited baby banter vocabulary that is more digestible to beginners such as myself.

Having just reveled in watching the film “Slumdog Millionaire” while I visited London with my brother and his girlfriend last week, I could not help but choose Dumas’ masterpiece, Les trois mousquetaires. It looks like a real bodice-ripper, going by the illustration on page 41. I also picked up another great work, La petite Fadette, for two reasons: first, George Sand fascinates me, but I have not yet read her works; and second, I get a kick out of the ‘period costume’ photo on the book cover, which features our ostracized heroine in a dirt-stained, hot-pink long skirt, paired with clogs and a tattered brown shawl, plopped atop a cartful of dingy hay.

I took these two pocket-sized treasures to the café, where I have treated myself to a “fifteens” bar with my tea, to celebrate finishing my course exams. This (the treat, not the test) marks a personal achievement in overcoming the wariness that other American students and I experienced when we first encountered fifteens, which are a wacky combination of sugar-laden goodies, including: 15 candied cherries, 15 digestive biscuits (i.e., cookies), 15 marshmallows, and 15 chopped walnuts, all mixed together into ‘sausage’ shapes and rolled in coconut shavings. They are a two-year-old’s heaven, a tooth’s worst nightmare.

So. Here I sit, with my raspberry tea and pure-sugar bar, reflecting on my most recent experiences as a Mitchell Scholar. Looking back on this morning and forward to the events I foresee occurring later today, it strikes me that maybe I should take the approach of using the particular to reveal a slice of the larger picture, by sharing a small piece of my life here — say, a day. To clarify what follows: I took a break from writing a running account of today’s events, and thus the rest of this entry describes what already happened today, post-fifteens bar.

The café started to fill as the lunch rush hit, and a young man sat next to me to eat a cup of soup with brown bread (my favorite lunch this winter, incidentally). I had been puzzling over the ‘bodice-ripper’ sketch for some time now, applying the same attention span and skills that a preschooler might give to figuring out a picture book. From what I gathered, some guy who is not one of the musketeers decided to tear off part of a pretty woman’s bodice, thereupon discovering she has concealed a musketeers’ logo tattooed on her shoulder. She’s not very happy about her ripped dress and looks as though she might punch the man in retribution, because her right fist has the little ‘motion/action’ parentheses around it. I felt ashamed for adulterating a classic work in this way and decided to take a chance on the soup kid next to me, to remedy the situation. I turned to him and asked if he had ever studied any French, and when he began to say, “Well, a little…” I immediately pleaded with him to help me understand the illustration in question. We worked on the dilemma for at least 15 minutes, until we realized the sketch did not even correspond with the text on the opposing page. At that point, he had to leave, but we introduced ourselves. An undergraduate music student in his final year, he invited me to come to his performance assessment recital in the campus fine arts building later this evening.

I had my first doctor’s appointment at the local hospital this afternoon, but I had just enough time beforehand to join many of my Peace and Conflict Studies classmates in a celebratory lunch at one of the most well-known restaurants in the city centre, “Flaming Jacks.” After our get-together, I caught a cab over to the hospital on the Waterside of the city. When I hopped into the cab, and the driver asked where I was headed, he reacted to my accent immediately. “Are you a damn Yankee?” he smacked with an air of playful melodrama. He and I then discussed the oncoming sunset of the Bush administration during the short ride, and when we arrived I discovered, much to my chagrin, that cab fares double upon crossing the river. On top of that downer, I cannot say that my hospital visit was a pleasant experience, but the posters in the waiting room did teach me some new local vocabulary (note to self: ‘dummies’ = pacifiers, not idiots).

To save cab fare on the way back, I decided to walk home, which was about three miles away. The gusting northern winds teased me with hints of spring warmth and whisked my long hair in all directions, probably making me look somewhat like the book cover depiction of Sand’s bedraggled French heroine. For the very first time (I am ashamed to admit), I walked along the curbs painted in Union Jack colors in Protestant neighborhoods of the Waterside. Just as I crossed Craigavon Bridge back to the City Centre (incidentally, it is the only double-decker road bridge in Europe!), I was hit with large droplets of rain. My French class would begin soon, anyway, so I decided to break down and call a cab.

That single decision has rekindled my belief in serendipity. Still feeling the sting of the doubled fare exacted by my ‘tried-and-true’ cab company, I called a new taxi service I had never tried before. The cab driver who picked me up was a local Derry man whose family had immigrated to Northern Ireland from China several decades ago. We began conversing, and I shared my interest in the issue of human trafficking. At that moment, we began one of the most engaging five-minute conversations I have experienced. The man shared all sorts of information about immigrant flows to Northern Ireland from Hong Kong vs. Mainland China, cultural differences between the two regions, and human trafficking networks within the Asian communities of Northern Ireland. I was stunned. In my work with an anti-trafficking organization in the United States, I searched for people like this man, who were concerned about the issue of trafficking and willing to share whatever information they knew about trafficking networks. They are rare birds. “How did I get so lucky as to step right into the taxi of one such individual in Derry, of all places?” I wondered to myself. The generous man shared his contact information with me and said he would answer any other questions I might have. Huzzah!

Filled with excitement from my lucky cab ride, I bounded off to my evening French class, where we learned how to count calories and to say “I don’t want any bread; I just started a diet yesterday” in French. Our class emitted several collective groans throughout the evening in response to the bizarre quality of our outdated, early-1990s textbook. During our tea break in the library café, we discussed the huge jazz festival coming up in Derry in May (the second largest on the whole island, right behind the Cork festival). After class, I headed straight to the student recital, where my new friend performed masterful piano and harpsichord pieces, and other students chimed in on the classical guitar, the violin, and voice. I must note with great pleasure that the short recital was broken up by an oh-so-Northern-Irish tea and shortcake break.

I walked from the concert to the flat of my classmates, Sam and Heather, just a block from campus, where many of us were going to meet before heading out for drinks and karaoke. On my way to their flat, I passed by the bar where we had all planned to go tonight, which is just around the corner from their apartment. A whole squad of at least a dozen police officers, each armed with bulletproof vests and machine guns, stood on the sidewalk in front of the bar. One of them suddenly crossed my path and instructed me, his gun almost brushing my arm, to please cross the road, as the area in front of me was blocked off. I quickly saw why. About four or five young men were lined up, arms in handcuffs behind their backs, along the pub walls, waiting to be taken away. As I walked up the street leading to my friends’ flat and rounded the corner onto the little lane on which they live, I jumped in surprise, because I nearly bumped into two more armed officers who were hidden around the corner. They laughed awkwardly as I dashed off, heart racing. I believe that is the closest I have ever been to a machine gun.

I drank some wine at Heather and Sam’s place and chatted with several classmates, my flatmates Dacia and Brigitta, and even my youngest French teacher, who also came out tonight. Before heading out, I had a much-needed heart-to-heart with one of my close friends and classmates. Understandably, our group ended up going out somewhere other than the bar next to the police raid, opting instead for ‘Thursday night salsa dancing’ at Beckett’s Bar downtown. We met a young woman from Tanzania there, who joined our all-female salsa circle out on the dance floor. When the music took a turn for the worse—which usually happens around midnight—we packed up our things and parted ways.

I came home to my cozy little room and watched some “Daily Show” online, listened to M.I.A.’s “Paper Plane” (from the soundtrack of “Slumdog Millionaire”) on YouTube at least a dozen times, and caught up on email. Most notably, I solidified a meeting with a human trafficking researcher at Queen’s University for early next week, an encounter I have looked forward to for a long time. Also, after the exam this morning, I spoke briefly with my professor, Paul Arthur, about a disturbing racist/anti-immigrant incident I witnessed downtown right before the holidays, which reminded me to send an email to a local human rights organization asking for information on local immigrant rights work.

Finally, before putting together this “diary of a day,” I worked on organizing and downsizing photos from my recent holiday travels, which included visits to Sweden, Edinburgh, London, and new sights in Derry/Londonderry. I am trying to be better in 2009 about sending family and friends photos of my experiences here. The photos, I realized, create a nice timeline of the past month. To celebrate Christmas, I visited Sweden and stayed with my brother-in-law’s family. I ice-skated with hockey-playing young men, whom I dubbed ‘incredible ice monkeys’; ate homemade gourmet Christmas cookies; became inspired by home-cooked feasts to prepare more than salads and omelettes for myself back in Derry; sang schnapps songs; read a Swedish book to a four-year-old in invented English (think preschooler-trying-to-understand-a-picture-book, once more) while he spoke Swedish to me, neither of us understanding a word the other said, but nevertheless happy as clams; attending an early dawn Christmas mass lit only by candles; and got to dress up as Santa Claus for a neighbor’s child. One of my favorite Christmases yet.

I spent New Year’s Eve in Edinburgh, Scotland with two fellow scholars, beloved Tyler and Vicki, as well as a new friend, Carlos. We spent the night sharing special moments with dozens of strangers, laughing, running the crowded streets of old Edinburgh, and drinking bitter, though cost-effective, wine. The day after, my brother, Per, and my friend, Susannah, came to visit me. We hung out in Edinburgh with Vicki for a day before heading back to Derry/Londonderry, where we toured the Bogside murals, the Tower Museum, a couple of the oldest churches in Western Europe, and the city walls (all well worth a visit, if not several). After that, Per, Susannah, and I caught a cheap RyanAir flight to London, where we binged on plays for four days, mainly at the National Theatre. We got up early each day to stand in line for discount stand-by tickets, which landed us front-row seats to one of the best plays I have ever seen, “August: Osage County”! My holiday vacation ended with driving a rental car from Dublin to Derry and back again (long story), before catching a pint of Guinness with Per and Susannah at the oldest bar in Dublin, “The Brazen Head.” We even met up there with Catherine Fontana and some of her friends from Trinity. I was sorry to say goodbye to Per and Susannah the next morning, but I was also glad to return to my dorms to find that most of my flatmates and classmates had returned from their own vacations, which generated a lively, affectionate reunion amongst all of us.

Since I spent this morning immersed in the work of some of the scholars and social justice activists whose work I most admire, I would like to round out this busy day, filled with many ‘firsts,’ with a nighty-night rumination on the words of one of those scholar-activists, Audre Lorde. Each time I meet new people, see new places, and am exposed to new ideas, I try to bear in mind Lorde’s conviction that embracing difference as a positive, “creative springboard for change,” rather than as a barrier that elicits fear, enables us to create peaceful, interdependent societies. “Difference,” she declared, “must not be merely tolerated, but seen as a fund of necessary polarities between which our creativity can spark like a dialectic” (1984). I don’t know whether or not the sparks are flying yet, but I am thoroughly enjoying my daily experiences with difference here thus far. I remain tremendously grateful to the U.S.-Ireland Alliance and to Mary Lou and Trina for making each of these days possible.

Posted in Class of 2009, University of Ulster | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by alaidman09

One week before flying home to the United States for Christmas, I stood atop Edinburgh Castle and watched the Scottish capital’s annual “Santa Stroll” take shape. A few hundred people gathered in the Princes Street Gardens below, paying 10 pounds for a Santa suit and the right to participate in this march across the city. Watching the incredibly long procession of people (and pets) clothed in red suits, hats, and white beards wind through the gardens and city streets of Edinburgh–from a tower of the medieval castle that overlooks the city–was a sight I never anticipated and won’t soon forget. Later, a friend and I joined the crimson crowd and felt as though we were living in a “Where’s Waldo?” cartoon. In my previous reflection on my time as a Mitchell Scholar, I wrote that my months in Ireland often feel like a series of once-in-a-lifetime occurrences. This theme has continued, as Edinburgh’s fantastic (albeit slightly absurd) Santa Stroll exemplifies.

Christmas time in Ireland, and it seems in much of Europe, is celebrated with traditions that pervade much of society. Particularly in Ireland, where over 85 percent of the population identify themselves as Catholic, the idea of the “holiday season” that we are accustomed to in the U.S. has almost become a joke. The public finds little need for religiously-sensitive public holidays or alternative greeting card messages in a country with such a small religious minority, and early in November the city of Dublin is literally draped with “Merry Christmas” décor.

I enjoyed celebrating the holidays (or, celebrating Christmas) with the Irish students in my masters’ program at parties complete with mulled wine and mince pies. A group of German girls in my apartment block also began festivities early, gathering each Wednesday from mid-November onward to share Christmas treats and drinks traditional to their hometowns. This merriment and anticipation started well before Thanksgiving and introduced me to a Christmas season that I am told carries into the New Year in Ireland. While I returned home to Buffalo for Christmas, I nevertheless felt that I enjoyed much of the season and experienced true holiday revelry in Ireland.

In the midst of these weeks of Christmas cheer, I enjoyed a visit from Will, my best friend from college. Together at Notre Dame, we started a campaign to work for a moratorium on executions in Indiana and educate citizens about the death penalty. He now continues this work in a professional capacity through an organization he founded and directs, the Indiana Coalition Acting to Suspend Executions (InCASE). During his visit and in his role of InCASE Executive Director, Will gave a seminar to PhD students at the Irish Centre for Human Rights at the National University of Ireland, Galway. At the start of the lecture, when Will asked how many individuals in the room were opposed to the death penalty, every hand shot up. Feeling a bit like Dorothy, I knew we weren’t in Indiana anymore, and I happily watched as the discussion rolled along with ease and without disagreement on the fundamental principles in question. It was an incredible experience to watch Will discuss Indiana’s death penalty with these Irish professors and students, and offer ways for them to effectively impact this issue that we both care about so deeply. Will’s lecture was an instance of the cultural exchange and sharing of ideas that I am in a unique position to facilitate as a Mitchell Scholar, another reason I was so pleased with the event.

Our Mitchell Thanksgiving celebration was another highlight of the season and yet another remarkable experience of the year thus far. Our weekend with all the scholars together in Dublin for the holiday began with a visit to the home of President Mary McAleese, who received us with brilliance and candid humor during a wonderful and surprisingly lengthy conversation over tea at Áras an Uachtaráin—the official presidential residence. President McAleese shared stories and discussed Irish history as well as current events, and impressed us all with her sincerity and insights. In the next two weeks before second semester courses begin at Maynooth, I intend to travel into Northern Ireland to see some of the areas that President McAleese discussed and the very neighborhoods where she spent her childhood.

Sharing opportunities like this visit with Mary McAleese with the other Mitchell scholars has brought us together in our common memories and collective realization of just how lucky we are to have these opportunities. I look forward to more travel across Ireland and Europe and more nights out in Dublin (likely starting with a celebration of Barack Obama’s Inauguration next week) with my fellow scholars. All the while, I will be on the lookout for events as meaningful as meeting President McAleese, as worthwhile as Will’s death penalty seminar, and as fantastically ridiculous as Edinburgh’s Santa Stroll.

Posted in Class of 2009, National University of Ireland Maynooth | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by crosson09

There is no place like home for the holidays, however, this year my wife and I made the difficult decision to stay abroad for the season. While this year’s Thanksgiving and Christmas were unlike any other, they will forever be remembered.

Thanksgiving in Kansas City, Missouri with my family is always one of the best times of year. Family members of all ages and skill levels play an impromptu game of backyard football whether on the auto-lined asphalt streets of inner-city Kansas City or the expansive grass fields of my cousins’ home in Southeastern Kansas. This short-lived game is our meager attempt at compensating for the hours of eating that preceded it.

This Thanksgiving was quite different however. Trina Vargo arranged for the Mitchell Scholars to meet with Irish President Mary MacAleese in her Pheonix Park residence in Dublin, the Áras an Uachtaráin. Over tea and biscuits by the fire, President MacAleese articulately described Ireland’s historically troubled relations between Dublin and London, Western Ireland and Eastern Ireland, and, of course, Northern Ireland and the Republic. I have been very fortunate in my young life to have been able to interact with several national leaders up close. While the others never wavered from the official line, President MacAleese refreshingly spoke with frankness. While Her Excellency clearly possessed the mental acuity and forward-thinking necessary for national leadership, she was also so welcoming that I admittedly forgot about her political position and instead relished the engaging conversation.

While I am on the note of welcoming behavior, none were more welcoming to us than Paul and Mary Hayes. The couple graciously opened their beautiful Dublin home up to us American hooligans for a scrumptious Thanksgiving meal. My wife was smitten with their adorable infant boy Cal, and I particularly enjoyed Paul’s tips on making the perfect mojito. The Hayes’ charm and charisma made me, if only for an evening, forget that I was spending this holiday oceans apart from my family back home. It was a truly marvelous evening.

Now, no journal entry from me would be complete without a reference to my ongoing struggle with the Irish weather. I am not sure who said it, but ever since I came across this quote, I have tried to apply it to my life. The saying goes, “Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, but rather it is about learning to dance in the rain.” Putting the metaphorical implications aside, I have tried to practically apply this quip to my time here in rainy Ireland. Therefore, in this spirit, I put away my hopes for warmer springtime weather and chose to embrace the cold. This new attitude led me and my wife to travel to two different wintry destinations in the month of December.

First on the list was a trip to Stockholm, Sweden with two other Mitchell Scholars, Vicki and Ryan. The four of us had a great time navigating the numerous islands that make up the Scandinavian Capital. We celebrated St. Lucia Day, tasted reindeer, shared an odd drink at a bar made entirely of ice, and marveled at the mere 6 hours of sunlight a day. Most importantly, we shared hours of conversations in the subway, waiting in line for museums, or over dinner at one of the Italian restaurants that oddly could be found on nearly every corner in Stockholm.

On the second trip, Kacey and I traveled to Belgium for a little over a week. While we visited Brussels for a couple of days, we spent the bulk of our time, including Christmas, in Bruges. This little city is like something out of a fairy tale. Swans fill the canals that meander their way through the Old Town, horse-drawn carriages trot through the narrow cobble-stoned streets, and the buildings stand like perfectly decorated gingerbread houses. Perhaps our best memories here are of the two of us ice skating in the temporary rink smack dab in the middle of the market. It was like spending this special holiday inside of a snow globe.

For now, it is back to Belfast, where I am writing a few essays in order to conclude my coursework for the first semester, and in a few short weeks I will begin a new semester. I will also attend a terrorism conference hosted by my department at Queen’s University. Finally, I am trying to catch my proverbial breath after having experienced a year’s worth of activities in a few short months. It is my hope that I can continue to make the most of my opportunity here in Ireland in the months ahead.

Posted in Class of 2009, Queen's University Belfast | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by vmoore09

Human beings fascinate me. They always have. Ever since I was little, I’ve loved going to airports and other transportation hubs to observe the eclectic collection of humanity, witnessing people of all ages, backgrounds, and traditions. I’ve nourished my enthusiasm for people-watching across the globe this year during my many travels. My favorite location thus far has been the Seoul subway in South Korea as I found the Korean reverence for elders, obsession with technology, and subway sales techniques enthralling and unlike anything I have experienced before. Their reactions to my presence were also new to me; small children literally stopped in their tracks and stared. A taxi driver even asked my friend if I was a celebrity—he was convinced he had seen me recently on television.

Though I am leading a completely different life in Ireland than I ever could have dreamt of back in the United States, not everything has changed. Many of my personality traits and interests, including my love of people-watching, remain the same. Other facets of my life that have remained constant include my work habits, my enthusiasm for family in all its forms, my desire to learn about different cultures, my interest in ghosts and graveyards, my love of language, and my passion for delicious cuisine.

The most glaringly obvious constancies in my life are my work habits, particularly procrastination and messiness. I have always been a procrastinator, putting off what I could do today until the day after tomorrow. Such a tendency has become even more problematic with my travel plans. During recent journeys to Sweden and Korea, I’ve taken procrastination to a new level. I woke up obnoxiously early in the morning to work on term papers, took in the sights during the day, and returned to Ireland hours before my assignments were due. Another trait that remains is my tendency to make my workspace a disaster area. My roommates from the Naval Academy can attest to this inclination; for some reason, while working, I like a good mess. I find it comforting to wreck my desk, leave journal articles littered about, crumple rice krispie treat wrappers on the floor, fling clothes on the bed, and pile up dirty dishes next to my computer. My DCU room has subsequently reached new levels of devastation unfathomable at USNA, most likely because I actually have my own space without roommates or room inspectors to yell at me to clean it up! I find it cleansing though to tidy up my room upon completion of an assignment —I guess it serves as some kind of closure, the final step of the writing process. My work habits remain unaltered in Ireland, for better or worse.

Another aspect of my life that remains unchanged is my love of spending time with my family. I was spoiled at Annapolis—unlike most midshipmen, I had the chance to see my parents nearly every weekend as they formed the core of the women’s track and cross country fan base. It has been quite an adjustment to see them less frequently. Fortunately, my parents and brother came over to visit Ireland in December for ten days, providing me with the chance to catch up with them. I think it’s safe to say that it was the best family vacation we’ve ever had!

Starting in the North, we circumnavigated the island in our rental car. We began in Belfast, where we took a black cab tour and afterwards enjoyed the tastes of the traditional Christmas market. We then proceeded to Giant’s Causeway, which was especially magical because of the incredible storm swell—it literally “snowed” foam on us. We then smelled the fresh whiskey mash at the active Bushmill’s Distillery and drove to Derry/Londonderry, where we walked the Bogside murals and learned about the apprentice boys’ role during the siege of Derry. We dined with Lara, who had the opportunity to learn the source of my nerdiness: my family. While debating something about the elements of the periodic table (you know, normal dinner conversation?), my brother proceeded to answer our question by breaking out the pocket-sized periodic table he received from Virginia Tech that he stored in his wallet. We literally could have been in the movie Nerds. Later, when discussing some other matter, my father reminded Lara, “This is the family whose son carries the periodic table in his wallet.” It was nice to joke around with my family.

My family then journeyed south to Galway, where we took a bus tour of Connemara, saw a whole lot of sheep, and photographed “an Irish sense of humor” in Recess. We then proceeded to Cobh, formerly Queenstown, a famous emigration port and the last port of call for the Titanic, prompting my mother to pose a question for the ages: “Did the iceberg hit the Titanic or the Titanic hit the iceberg?” Finally, we stopped in Waterford and Kilkenny before heading back up to Dublin for Christmas. On Christmas Day, my mom and I attended a multi-hour mass at a Romanian Orthodox Church, a unique Christmas experience. During the afternoon, my father and I walked Dublin for a few hours, taking in most of the major sites. After a delicious buffet dinner at the Radisson, we finished the day by watching the “Christmas classic,” Groundhog Day, together. The last few days of my family’s vacation were spent in Dublin visiting Collins Barracks, sipping Guinness at the Gravity Bar, and dancing with my Dad in Temple Bar. It was great to see so much of the island with my family.

Members of my extended family from the Naval Academy, my friends Sarah and Eric, also visited me in Dublin in early December. We listened to the flawless harmony of Handel’s Messiah in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, only a couple hundred feet from where Messiah first debuted over 300 years ago. We practiced our hurling and Gaelic football skills at Croke Park, learned about the complexities and strictness of Georgian living near Merrion Square, and drank at the Brazenhead, where many Irish revolutionaries were known to enjoy a pint. It was wonderful to experience more of Dublin with my Navy family as well.

I’ve also loved forming a bond this year with my Irish family, the Mitchells, as we celebrated major holidays over the past couple of months. Thanksgiving dinner featured a remarkable potluck—I told Chris’ wife, Kacey, accurately, that her sweet potatoes were the best thing to happen to me since the Mitchell scholarship! Spending New Year’s with my Irish family was a blast too—Tyler, his friend Carlos, Lara, and I rang in 2009 in Edinburgh at the world famous Hogmanay Street Party. Though we had to wait in line for three hours to pick up our tickets, it was worth it when we banded together with our fellow partiers to call out a “non-English speaking” French girl who tried to cut in front of us in line. My French came in handy as I explained to her, “In Scotland, we wait in line…” She finally left after 20 minutes of chiding. The lengthy wait for our wristbands was worth the party as well. We had a blast on Prince’s Street as we watched fireworks explode over Edinburgh Castle, chatted with random English students, and never felt classier as we drank awful merlot out of plastic wine glasses with foil lids. Having a chance to enjoy major holidays with my Irish family was a great experience.

Along with spending time with all forms of my family, my desire to learn about different cultures and histories has persisted during this year abroad. I’ve learned more about Ireland, Sweden, Scotland, and Korea over these two months. First, I have furthered my knowledge of Irish history, coming to understand the intricacies of the Troubles in past months. I have admired both the Unionist and Republican murals in Derry/Londonderry and Belfast, touring them with members of both sides of the conflict, including a former member of the Ulster Defense Force. I also had the chance to learn about Bobby Sands and the hunger strikes while watching Hunger, a movie that disturbed me so greatly that I literally had to sleep with the lights on for a week. I also watched Bloody Sunday and had the chance to learn about the day’s events in detail during my family’s trip to Londonderry/Derry. Finally, in November, the Mitchells met President Mary McAleese, who was kind enough to share her thoughts about Northern Ireland, which were particularly interesting since she grew up there, as well her opinions on other major Irish political issues. My practical coursework in Irish history and culture has focused on the recent past over the last few months.

While travelling with Ryan, Chris, and Kacey in Stockholm, I had the chance to learn about the nuances of Swedish culture as well. What was most striking was the lack of daylight during the winter because of the high latitude—the sun set at 3:30 in the afternoon, making us feel exhausted by 8pm. Despite the lack of sunlight, we celebrated “the return of light” on St. Lucia day. We visited Skansen, the Swedish colonial Williamsburg, and learned about the traditions of the Italian Catholic Saint Lucy, the “bringer of light” to Sweden during a period of incredible winter darkness. Stockholm also appealed to my nautical side as we visited the incredibly well preserved Swedish warship Vasa, a 17th century ship that sunk minutes into its maiden voyage in Stockholm harbor. It was amazing to learn its story as well—with its ornate paintings and incredible color-scheme – the Vasa must have looked like something Barbie would command on the high seas. Enjoying Swedish meatballs, glog, and delicious pear cider while learning about Swedish history further fulfilled my desire to learn about other cultures.

I also learned a great deal about Scottish culture during New Year’s. We stayed in both Glasgow and Edinburgh, and even journeyed up north. Upon seeing the indescribable beauty of the highlands as well as the lochs that, like mirrors, perfectly reflected the snowy mountains that surrounded them, I understood why ancient tribes thought creatures and fairies lived beneath the waters. Tyler, Carlos, and I also searched the waters of Loch Ness for the infamous monster, but to no avail. Back in the cities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, we learned about the controversies surrounding the coronation stone in Edinburgh castle, honored Scottish warriors in the castle’s War Memorial (which reminded me of John Paul Jones’ crypt in Annapolis), witnessed Victorian CCTV at the Camera Obscura, played with cockroaches at the Glasgow Science Museum, and learned about the world’s religious traditions just outside of Glasgow Cathedral. Lara and I even climbed Arthur’s Seat, an extinct volcano right in the heart of Edinburgh, for a panoramic view of the city. In just five short days, I became familiar with Scottish history and culture.

Finally, in January, I had the chance to learn about Korean history and culture during a trip to Seoul to visit one of my good friends from high school, Phillip. First, we brushed up on our Korean War history with a trip to the DMZ, where we climbed in tunnels dug by North Koreans to invade the South, viewed the propaganda village right over the border, as well as sighted the world’s tallest flag (160m high!). During a visit to the War Memorial museum, we learned how the Korean War was truly a seesaw of success, as the city of Seoul itself changed hands four times during the first year of combat! Korean museums were also different, especially with regards to history. They were very general, as Koreans seem to view their history in this way: “Kingdoms and dynasties existed for upwards of 5,000 years. Then, the Japanese came and occupied for 40 years. Finally, the Korean War happened.” Though Korean museums may have been relatively light on historical depth, they were full of beautiful Buddhist and Asian artwork as well as lighthearted amusement. My two favorite museums were the Teddy Bear Museum at Seoul Tower, which explained the history of Seoul city through dynamic teddy bear dioramas, and the Kimchi Museum, which displayed over 80 varieties of the Korean staple of pickled cabbage and red pepper. We also took trips to see ancient Buddhist temples, Asia’s oldest astronomical observatory, and visited the famous Busan fish market. Even now, I’m not certain if it is possible for fish to still be in the ocean after seeing the tremendous amount of eel, octopus, and flounder available for consumption in the market.

Phillip, during our many subway and train trips, also explained to me many of the nuances of Korean culture, including the Confucian emphasis of age and respect, the “greenness” of the country, the obsession with technology (there were flat screen televisions in the subway!), the constant focus on education, as well as the sheer crowdedness. Korea is the size of Indiana, yet Seoul alone has a population of 25 million (five Irelands!), which explains why everyone lives in apartments. My favorite story he told me, though, relates to the “coupley” culture of Korea. People in Seoul are always in pairs, normally with their significant other. If someone is single and a friend asks what he/she is doing for Christmas, he/she will respond, “I’m spending it with Kevin.” Kevin, the Christmastime significant other, is none other than Macaulay Culkin’s character in Home Alone, the classic movie that is required viewing during the holidays. Who knew that an American movie would be such a holiday staple in Korea! I knew very little about Korea before my trip over there, so it was a real treat to have a good friend introduce me to the culture.

Along with my desire to learn about other cultures, a random, rather morbid fascination that has also continued this year is taking ghost tours and visiting graveyards. I really enjoyed the ghost tour in Edinburgh because we learned about the closes, admired John Knox’s grave in Parking Spot 23 near Edinburgh Kirk, and had a chance to go in one of the most haunted places in the world, the old city vaults underneath the land bridges of Edinburgh. Back in Dublin, we toured Glasnevin Cemetery and saw the Republican plot, featuring the resting places of anyone who is anyone in Irish politics, including Daniel O’Connell, Charles Stewart Parnell, Jim Larkin, Michael Collins, and Eamon De Valera. What really surprised me, though, was the sheer number of burial plots for stillborn babies and miscarriages in the cemetery. There were literally thousands of toys spread across the hundreds of headstones. In Korea, we had the chance to go inside a Shilla dynasty tomb in an ancient burial mound as well as visit the United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Busan, the only cemetery worldwide administered by the UN. The cemetery was incredibly moving, with its 21 national flags representing the countries that participated in the war as well as its stunning memorial that lists all the soldiers who gave their lives in the conflict. My interest in cemeteries and ghost tours has continued while abroad.

Another continuity in my life is my love of learning new languages. I have always been fascinated with language, even minoring in French at USNA. This year, along with studying Spanish, I have started taking basic Irish classes. Irish is much more difficult than Spanish because literally nothing looks like how it should be pronounced. My favorite part of Irish is its greetings, which demonstrate the strong influence of Catholicism in Ireland. To say hello, one says, “Dia dhuit,” or literally “God be with you.” To reply, one says, “Dia is Maire dhuit,” or literally “God and Mary be with you.” If one is really excited to see someone, one replies, “Dia is Maire dhuit is Padraic,” which literally means “God, Mary, and St. Patrick be with you.” Only in Ireland would St. Patrick be used in a greeting to convey excitement! My roommate and I won a dialogue pronunciation prize right before Christmas, and we hope to defend our title this coming semester.

My desire to sample new cuisine has persisted in Ireland as well. Because I have been a runner for the past eight years, I have always had a healthy appetite and desire to try all kinds of food. My friend Fabio prepared a traditional German feast for some of the Mitchells in November, which featured delicious sausage and unbelievable sauerkraut made with fresh apples. My visit to Korea uncovered a new passion for Korean food, including the incomparable barbeque, the delicious side dishes of kimchi and radishes, refreshing green tea, and the unique taste of purple stone bowl rice. The spiciness of Korean food, coupled with my newfound appreciation of Indian food, has reprogrammed my taste buds to actively seek out red pepper and curry. Back in Ireland, I’ve taken up drinking breakfast tea and enjoying the greasy goodness of traditional fish and chips. My yearning to try new foods has resulted in my appetite becoming much more diverse during my stay in Ireland.

As the old adage goes, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Though I am experiencing so many new and different things throughout the world, I am still the same nerdy Vicki who loves people-watching, exploring, and, now, having her taste buds set on fire.

Posted in Class of 2009, Dublin City University | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection

January 2009 Reflection

Posted on January 1, 2009 by jdillard09

Watching the New Year’s Eve fireworks illuminate Edinburgh Castle with my boyfriend and fellow Mitchell Scholars Vicki and Lara, I reminisced on the year 2008. In the past year, I had graduated from college, visited with my adoptive mother for the first time in four years and, through the vision of George J. Mitchell, traveled to countries outside the United States for the first time. In those moments of nostalgia, I also remembered the first day I arrived in Northern Ireland. Being placed in an unfamiliar setting, I faced a certain degree of ambiguity. I was unsure how the Northern Irish people would view an openly gay, ex-frat boy from Alabama. But, within one week of living in Belfast, I made friends with several people from Northern Ireland,in both my academic program and in social settings. Nearly everyone I met this semester was hospitable, outgoing, and eager to meet Americans. By immersing myself in the Northern Ireland culture and seeking opportunities to interact with the locals, I have certainly adapted. Even now, I find myself referring to Belfast as my home when speaking to family and friends across the Atlantic.

Northern Ireland, and the Queen’s University Belfast School of Law, in particular, have presented numerous opportunities that have definitely had a value-added impact on my Mitchell experience. From traveling extensively through Ireland, the United Kingdom, and mainland Europe, to working with the Equality Commission for Northern Ireland, I have interacted with countless cultures and peoples. In my LL.M. modules, I have been exposed to students from Brazil, France, Germany, Italy, Bulgaria, India and China. These people, diverse in terms of race, ethnicity, language, religion, political opinion and sexual orientation, have become my closest friends. Whether debating the application of cultural relativism in the case of female circumcision or taking shots of Jameson’s Irish whiskey in the Student Union the night after final examinations, my colleagues constantly challenge and encourage me.

While each student and professor in the law department has a developed interest in a specific area of human rights law, the one characteristic that we all share is passion. Over a round of Guinness after class one evening, I realized that I was in the company of individuals who, like me, envisioned an international community where “ . . . everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms . . . without distinction of any kind, such as race, color, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status” (Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article II). This shared vision, the relationships I have built and continue to secure, and the collaborative impact of both on my studies, have undoubtedly shaped my personal values and goals.

Through research with professors and partnerships with human rights organizations in Belfast, I have realized that I want to devote not only my current academic trajectory but also my future career to the promotion of human rights. Like the solicitors and barristers who assist the Equality Commission for Northern Ireland, I aspire to practice public interest law. Ultimately, I will use my Mitchell experience and the education it has provided to promote and protect the rights of society’s most vulnerable members: one Muslim, one woman, one Catholic, one gay man, one disabled person, and so on, without end.

Posted in Class of 2009, Queen's University Belfast | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on January 2009 Reflection