(no subject)
Every morning I stand in the window and stare at the ocean, watching the waves crash into the cliffs and listening to sheep bleat. In the morning they’re cute. The lamblets race each other and butt their heads into their mothers and attempt to mount each other. At night they’re creepy and sound like people imitating sheep. Sometimes they are people imitating sheep.
My roommate rolls over, sometimes mumbling obscenities, sometimes just groaning. Occasionally he opens one eye and says, “good morning.” Actually, he does that most mornings, but not until after he groans and swears. I need to make sure to get out to the pubs with him this week- not because I want to be groaning and swearing as well but because I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with the locals at length and it will be important for my paper.
Spiders were eating me my first few days here. They bit only my hands and wrists, and once my ear and chin, then stopped. Now they’re attacking Cassie in full force. I’m happy that I’m not the itchy one for once and guilty for being happy about her suffering, fearful that I’ll be next, and worried that it’s going to become a full-scale infestation.
Nights at the craichouse vary between laid back and raucous. We aren’t a party house by any means, but I think each of us is insane in our own way. Mornings are chill as we’re none of us big on chatting before 10am. In the afternoons and evenings, there’s a constant cacophony of people practicing whistle and bodhrán and laughter echoes through the house at all hours. Actually, the laughter from the kitchen and the living room sounds creepy from upstairs, like a screeching ghost choir or a pack of hyenas. From downstairs, though, the sound is warm and lively and the fire that often burns in fireplace makes it feel like home. The kitchen table is more popular than the more formal dining room table and people gather around it, drinking tea and laughing. Occasionally there’s ass-slapping, screaming, and other coarse carousing, but all of it is with a sense of ease and companionship.
At 10am we head to class. Irish lessons are from 10 until 11:30. Tea until 11:45, then two of us clean up the tea and the other section has their class. We do approximately the same things in each section. It’s just easier to teach 11 people at once than 22. While the other class is in session we are meant to have “study time,” though this is nap time for people as often as not. Some of us fight over the one computer with internet access and some of us type of various writing assignments and journal entries on the many computers that lack internet access. Some of us go home and practice our instruments, and others run down to the beach to splash our toes in the icy water. I can’t wait until the weather gets warm so I can splash more than my toes in it, though. I’ll need to remember to ask the locals if it’s safe to swim.
Brian keeps finding animal bones on the beach and bringing them back to the house. The most recent prize was a mostly-intact crow’s head with feathers still on it and most of a spine attached. Fortunately he didn’t bring that one in the house. I don’t particularly enjoy its presence on the front windowsill next to the ashtray, but I can tolerate it. I think he just wants to torture the smokers. I fed it whiskey the other night to appease it because it was staring at me angrily.
We have lunchtime from 12:45 until 2 and I often use this time to run to the grocery store, which smaller than most 7-11’s and doesn’t offer a great selection. But they almost always have soymilk and at least one kind of leafy green vegetable so it’s all good with me. Failing that, they always have whiskey, and who needs greens when there’s Jameson’s around? After lunch we have a selection of classes that happen at different times so that conceivably we could do all of them.
Bodhrán
Penny whistle
Poetry
Set dancing
Irish songs
Weaving
Knitting
Stone wall bulding
Hillwalking
All of these are optional though few of us want to miss any of them. The total is 70 hours and we’re only required to take 45. I believe, without the weaving and the knitting which my allergies won’t tolerate, I’m signed up for 55 or so.
We also have several special events, such as Mary Condren meeting with us. There are also archaeology walks, herb lore, poetry with Cathal O Searcaigh, and a sean-nós singer, Lillis O Laoire, will be coming later in the session. Next week we’re heading off to Connemara where we’ll attend a festival in honor of my professor’s teacher, Joe Heaney. There’ll be all kinds of excellent music and there’s talk that Kila will be playing in the area and we may get to see them. They’re about the only band that’s ever made me want to hippie-dance so needless to say I’m excited. After that the Burren and Derry and we’ll be visiting all the major landmarks. Knowing Seán it’ll probably be the most depressing landmarks possible. Not that they’re avoidable in a trip to the North.
Um, yeah. Things are good. I haven’t bought my own bodhrán yet but it’s being put on order for me. We have a midterm (!) this Friday and then are heading for Connemara right away. Okay now I’m bored with typing. Leaving. Bye.
My roommate rolls over, sometimes mumbling obscenities, sometimes just groaning. Occasionally he opens one eye and says, “good morning.” Actually, he does that most mornings, but not until after he groans and swears. I need to make sure to get out to the pubs with him this week- not because I want to be groaning and swearing as well but because I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with the locals at length and it will be important for my paper.
Spiders were eating me my first few days here. They bit only my hands and wrists, and once my ear and chin, then stopped. Now they’re attacking Cassie in full force. I’m happy that I’m not the itchy one for once and guilty for being happy about her suffering, fearful that I’ll be next, and worried that it’s going to become a full-scale infestation.
Nights at the craichouse vary between laid back and raucous. We aren’t a party house by any means, but I think each of us is insane in our own way. Mornings are chill as we’re none of us big on chatting before 10am. In the afternoons and evenings, there’s a constant cacophony of people practicing whistle and bodhrán and laughter echoes through the house at all hours. Actually, the laughter from the kitchen and the living room sounds creepy from upstairs, like a screeching ghost choir or a pack of hyenas. From downstairs, though, the sound is warm and lively and the fire that often burns in fireplace makes it feel like home. The kitchen table is more popular than the more formal dining room table and people gather around it, drinking tea and laughing. Occasionally there’s ass-slapping, screaming, and other coarse carousing, but all of it is with a sense of ease and companionship.
At 10am we head to class. Irish lessons are from 10 until 11:30. Tea until 11:45, then two of us clean up the tea and the other section has their class. We do approximately the same things in each section. It’s just easier to teach 11 people at once than 22. While the other class is in session we are meant to have “study time,” though this is nap time for people as often as not. Some of us fight over the one computer with internet access and some of us type of various writing assignments and journal entries on the many computers that lack internet access. Some of us go home and practice our instruments, and others run down to the beach to splash our toes in the icy water. I can’t wait until the weather gets warm so I can splash more than my toes in it, though. I’ll need to remember to ask the locals if it’s safe to swim.
Brian keeps finding animal bones on the beach and bringing them back to the house. The most recent prize was a mostly-intact crow’s head with feathers still on it and most of a spine attached. Fortunately he didn’t bring that one in the house. I don’t particularly enjoy its presence on the front windowsill next to the ashtray, but I can tolerate it. I think he just wants to torture the smokers. I fed it whiskey the other night to appease it because it was staring at me angrily.
We have lunchtime from 12:45 until 2 and I often use this time to run to the grocery store, which smaller than most 7-11’s and doesn’t offer a great selection. But they almost always have soymilk and at least one kind of leafy green vegetable so it’s all good with me. Failing that, they always have whiskey, and who needs greens when there’s Jameson’s around? After lunch we have a selection of classes that happen at different times so that conceivably we could do all of them.
Bodhrán
Penny whistle
Poetry
Set dancing
Irish songs
Weaving
Knitting
Stone wall bulding
Hillwalking
All of these are optional though few of us want to miss any of them. The total is 70 hours and we’re only required to take 45. I believe, without the weaving and the knitting which my allergies won’t tolerate, I’m signed up for 55 or so.
We also have several special events, such as Mary Condren meeting with us. There are also archaeology walks, herb lore, poetry with Cathal O Searcaigh, and a sean-nós singer, Lillis O Laoire, will be coming later in the session. Next week we’re heading off to Connemara where we’ll attend a festival in honor of my professor’s teacher, Joe Heaney. There’ll be all kinds of excellent music and there’s talk that Kila will be playing in the area and we may get to see them. They’re about the only band that’s ever made me want to hippie-dance so needless to say I’m excited. After that the Burren and Derry and we’ll be visiting all the major landmarks. Knowing Seán it’ll probably be the most depressing landmarks possible. Not that they’re avoidable in a trip to the North.
Um, yeah. Things are good. I haven’t bought my own bodhrán yet but it’s being put on order for me. We have a midterm (!) this Friday and then are heading for Connemara right away. Okay now I’m bored with typing. Leaving. Bye.