The End

An update to say:  I'm going home tomorrow!

God has been very good--I'll miss Cork loads, but am ready to see the friends and lots of family. =]

Thanks for keeping up with the "adventure."

Mary

Travels in November

(Warning:  this is a long one.)

Hello, my friends!  It has been a while…and I've loads to tell!  Since coming to the discovery (in a recent post) that I really like Cork a lot, and will be sad to leave, I have left it several times, for trips to Edinburgh, London, and L’Abri in Greatham, England.

On the weekend of Halloween, I braved Ryanair alone on a Friday night to see my Dad in Edinburgh.  We met at the airport, took a taxi to our hotel right off the High Street, and had a very late dinner at a delicious Indian place around the corner.  Nothing like garlic naan and Indian beer with your Dad at midnight in Scotland!  (Well, I must confess that I still don’t like beer…but it’s fun to say.)  He then presented me with two big bags of candy corn Mom had sent me!!  On Saturday we visited the Edinburgh Castle, saw the crown jewels (called the Honours of Scotland), had a very pubby lunch (more beer! Aah!), and hiked the steep, windy climb to Arthur’s Seat, where you can see the whole city.  That evening, after stuffing our faces with candy corn for a couple of hours in the hotel room (okay, that was just me), Dad and I visited The Elephant House, where J.K. Rowling wrote much of the first Harry Potter books.  Sunday morning, after some fluffy, crumbly, buttery breakfast scones, we headed to a service at St. Giles Cathedral, full of old, beautiful liturgy (lately I just like liturgy better and better!).  My flight back into Dublin that evening was delayed three hours, giving me the opportunity to spend one more night at Abbey Court Hostel (where we had orientation), and to meet a church group from Florida there, before taking the bus to Cork in the morning, still full of candy corn.

The next weekend saw me getting up before 6 on Friday morning to meet my friends Marie and Jake for a trip to London!  It was, from start to finish, a magical weekend, filled with laughter, singing, chocolate digestives, and walking walking walking.  We got lost essentially right outside our hostel, in the rain, for about an hour, but it was worth it when we finally found our way inside…Friends was on the lounge TV!  And the first big highlight of the weekend was that evening…we went to see the musical Wicked!!  It was amazing by intermission, and by the final curtain, we just couldn’t stop singing.  I might even have cried (surprise!).

We spent most of Saturday on the Tube…well, only sort of.  (Shout-out to Jake for always knowing where to go!)  At breakfast at the hostel, we made a new friend in Kyle, a musician from South Africa visiting for the week.  He joined us in touring the city that day.  Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben (AAH BIG BENßJake’s reaction), Covent Garden, Platform 9 ¾ (!!), and my personal favorite, Camden Market.  That night we headed out again to see some Guy Fawkes Day fireworks (it was the 6^th of November by this point, but apparently they remember that pretty well too), prefaced by a bonfire roughly the size of a water tower (I was quite warm, 30 feet away).  Another highlight, quite literally. ;)

Sunday was our busiest day yet, beginning with a bit of the Natural History Museum (free! Dinosaurs!), a service in St. Paul’s, the Tower, the London Bridge, the Globe Theatre, Millennium Bridge (Death Eaters?), the National Gallery, and Hamleys, the most awesome toy store ever.  We finished our time in London with an organ recital at Westminster Abbey, and yummy Italian for dinner.  Then off to spend the night at the Stansted Airport, before our 6am flight…but we found some new German friends to hang out with while we couldn’t sleep.

After those two wonderful, but tiring, trips, I was a bit less than ready to leave again for my scheduled to visit to L’Abri the next Thursday afternoon.  But I made it there, with some help from kind Brits concerning the National Rail system.  I’m not going to explain L’Abri here, other than describing my time there; for more information, check out http://www.labri.org/.  Anyway, I arrived on Thursday evening to what is known as “The Manor House” in Greatham, Hampshire.  The big old house (mostly from the 19^th century, but with the original bits from the 1600s) was almost empty—Thursday is everyone’s day off.  But I met a group of students, also just arrived for the weekend, doing a program in Christian Apologetics at Oxford (while you’re at it, check OCCA out, too:  http://www.theocca.org/), and had a mini-tour with them.  All weekend after, everyone who met me thought I went to Oxford!  (I enjoyed this.) 

One of the big blessings of the weekend was the library, the couch in the library, and the seemingly unlimited time I had to sit and read on the couch in the library.  I hadn’t read all day since I was about 16…what a lovely feeling!  I also greatly appreciated the tea breaks…tea is taken very seriously at English L’Abri.  I drank five cups each day.   Also, I met lots of wonderful people from all over the world…there was always fun to be had at meals and tea breaks, and at the pub playing UNO on Saturday night…

Probably the greatest blessing of the weekend, though, was a constant reminder of God’s presence and power.  The first night I arrived, I was inundated with amazing stories from the folks on the OCCA program of how God had provided for them to get to Oxford (think, planes turned around!).  All day Friday I read about the beginnings of L’Abri in Switzerland in the 1950s, and how God’s hand was guiding the Schaeffers even through the many troubles they went through during its inception.  Moreover, God’s presence is very real at L’Abri, from the peaceful atmosphere during study hours to the kids playing football outside.  Much, much prayer goes on behind the scenes there, and God has really blessed it richly.  If you’re ever in the area, check it out!  I’m going back.

And now, this weekend, I’m in Cork!  It’s wonderful to be home, to not be travelling.  Last night I went out to the GPO (general post office), where my church, Calvary Cork, was handing out free tea and coffee and chatting with passersby, and then had a slice of America at Eddie Rockets after.  Now I’m sitting at the Haven, a local Christian bookstore/coffee shop/meeting place, as I write this, but I’m about to head to the market to pick up sweet potatoes and apples for Thanksgiving dinner with the roomies this evening.  I’ve been trying not to eat much all day in preparation. J  Those Irish won’t be able to move after this dinner!

God is good.

This makes me happy

As of yesterday, if given a free flight home ASAP, I wouldn’t take it.  Previously when I’ve asked myself this question the answer hasn’t been quite this simple. 

Now, let me backtrack.  I like Ireland.  I really like Cork.  I’ve been here eleven weeks now, and I’ve liked this place the whole time.  My Fall—sorry, Autumn!—so far has been full of beautiful sights, brilliant music, and engaging people.  God’s blessings have been everywhere:  I both got plugged into a great church and learned how to make German pancakes pretty early.

But always, always, when I asked myself, “given the opportunity, would you go home today?” the answer was yes.  I’d been happy here, but at home were TNW, RUF large group, and FND (hehe acronyms).  At home were crazy dance parties, chocolate-covered pretzels, and Chick-fil-A.  At home were Sundays singing “Glory to Glory,” and the Appalachian mountains, and at home my brother is growing approximately an inch a day, which is terrifying!

As of yesterday, though, this has changed.  No, I’m sure George is still growing.  And I will be oh so very happy to return to all of those other things in December and January.  What’s changed is that Ireland has begun to pull my heart, a little bit, in the other direction.  As God has been showing me all semester, He’s over here too.  He’s in His creation, and in His people in this beautiful city.  And here in Cork are the English Market, Tuesday nights with the CU and worship at Calvary Cork.  In Cork are both Eddie Rockets AND the recently-discovered Hotshakes (NOT an oxymoron).  In Cork are crosswalks that say you have 99 seconds but are actually trying to kill you, a flat full of roommates who eat nutella out of the jar, and TOTALLY AWESOME friends who will sing crazy Disney songs with you (sounds like home…).

So thank God for Cork!  And here’s to my last third (haha) of my time here!  At least for now.

PS. By the way, nothing extra special happened yesterday to tip the scales or anything…that was just when I started counting my blessings.

PPS. Two posts in two days?  What?  Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.

Self-Control.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.  And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” Galatians 5:22-24.

It’s easy to forget self-control, hidden at the end of the list, a plain, awkward-sounding word compared to the more dramatic sounding joy or the pretty kindness (both also important, by the way).  And as a Christian, it’s easy to forget about self-control in my life.  I’m used to being busy.  At Davidson, necessity forces me to control myself to an extreme—I must do everything at precisely the right time just in order to finish things.  (This mentality, of course, comes with its own problems.)

Cork is worlds away from Davidson, and in more than just miles!  Everyone has time here.  There’s no constant running to be places.  (Everybody’s just late all the time.  That’s okay.)  For example, I met with the CU (Christian Union) last night for about 4 hours.  That included dinner, games, Bible study, and tea and biscuits after.  I love RUF, but that would never happen at home.  Obviously, I appreciate the slower pace of life here.

However, I’m also learning from it.  The last two weeks in particular have taught me my lack of self-control.  I have lots of free time.  I have lots of papers due in November.  But there are lots of movies to watch.  Often I’ll go to bed feeling just useless.  Now, I know I’m not made for usefulness.  I have this Oswald Chambers quotation on my desk: “If you make usefulness the test, then Jesus Christ was the greatest failure who ever lived.”  I’m not meant to be the most useful person out there.  I’m meant to worship God, and honor Him in everything I am, do, and say.  And honestly, sometimes I live like a vegetable.  I’m here to be in school, among other things, and I can honor God in my work as I can in my rest.

All that to say this:  I’d appreciate prayer for motivation—the right motivation—to work hard here, and spend my time well.  Jesus gave His life for me!  And I want to live for Him, in spite of myself.

Weathering Ireland

Apparently I came to Ireland with a few misconceptions about the weather.  I (and almost every person I consulted before my trip) predicted, and expected, four months of grey skies and chilly rain.

Now, I feel that I can honestly state that I have seen the sun every day that I have been in Ireland.  Every day. And it's beautiful!  At first I thought it was just the summer weather, but it's October now.

And when it does rain, it doesn't really rain.  I'm from North Carolina; I know rain.  At home, it comes down pretty hard, at least once a week.  Here it justs mists, or sometimes spits (as in, it's spitting out).  No satisfying rain yet.

But, lest I be drawing a picture of Ireland as the next Bermuda, let me remind you of a saying we have in NC:  "Don't like the weather?  Don't worry, it'll change in a few minutes!"  While this makes sense in my home state, it is literally true here.  This morning, I woke up to clouds.  It was sunny on my way to class, rained during class, but was clear and sparkling at the end of the hour.  It then drizzled most of the afternoon, before the sun came out about 5.30, only to disappear again by 6.30.  It's clear now, but will probably rain later tonight.

As the daughter and sister of boy scouts, you would think I'd know this by now, but always, always, carry a rainjacket.

Some Good Craic

This weekend I got to participate in Arcadia's homestay program, along with Mari, another US student.  Because there are no host families for American students in Ireland, this program exists so that we can get a taste of regular, rural Irish life.

It also exists so that I can play with kids again!  After a summer of nannying, babysitting, living, and playing with some wonderful children, my sense of fun was just withering away seeing only my peers, all of the time.  Thanks to Conor and Brian Burke for sending me home exhausted and full of fun, and maybe even ready for a little alone time.  It was a fabulous weekend.

Conor, aged 10, plays (and, as his 21 medals testify, excels at) rugby, (gaelic) football, and hurling.  He also is learning the fiddle--we were blessed with a performance of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."  He has a talent for scary faces.

Brian, aged 6, plays all three sports as well, though he "hates" hurling, as well as cabbage and jaffa cakes (an unfortunate thing, as both are staples of the Burke house).  He wants to be a farmer, and his floor is already covered in a farm--plastic horses, cows, pigs, sheep, cats, dogs, ducks, swans, a deer, a turkey, a hedgehog, haybales, tractors and cow poop.  What is he going to be for Halloween?  A bull.

The Burkes (Liam and Margaret, and the two boys) don't live on a farm, unless you count the chickens, ducks, rabbit, cat and dogs, but their tiny village of Emly, Co. Tipperary, is steeped in farming.  We got to visit the neighbors at milking time!  Don't picture a barn and a farmer shooting milk into a cat's mouth.  These forlks own about 100 milk cows, and use milking machines.  We stood in the corridor between two lines of cow rears as the farmer and his son methodically attached and removed the suction cups.  Poor Brian barely avoided being sprayed when one of the cows let loose a lot of something that wasn't milk!  I left a bit disgusted, but with my love of milk intact.

Back at home, there was plenty to do.  Every morning and the evening the chickens had to be moved between the shed and their pen, with a very insistent Brian demanding that we hold one.  We spent lots of time on the trampoline…the boys loved a game Mari taught them called “dead man,” in which one person closes their eyes and tries to grab the others, and the tramp is a great place for a nap in the sun when you’re tired out.  And after a bit of hurling lessons from Brian on Saturday, I was wrecked!  It’s sort of lacrosse without the net—just a vicious-looking, and –feeling, stick.  And Mari and I came away with our own hurling balls (about the size of baseballs), autographed by the famous Brian and Conor.  Inside, we played roud after round of Go Fish, and watched Fantastic Mr. Fox--very funny.

Saturday also included trips both to “Tipp Town” and Emly Village.  We walked up and down Tipp Town, the county seat, in half an hour, but spent a bit more time in Emly, population 500.  Maybe.   Now, I should have begun with this, but Emly has won the “Tidy Towns” award several years running now!  !!!!!  Everyone we met told us about it, and there were signs and plaques all down the street.  And boy, it was tidy.  They just found out this weekend, though, that they only got a silver medal this year—everyone is disappointed.  “They must’ve come a day we didn’t expect [to inspect]” says Margaret.  The Burke’s house was also quite tidy, especially considering its young inhabitants.  Showering standards were something else, however—Mari and I took the only two showers that house saw this weekend.  After a couple days of seeing the same clothes, we asked Brian if he ever took a bath, “What? Oh, only on Sundays.  That’s bath-day.  An’ I hate it.”  Ah.

Sunday morning we went to Mass, with Margaret and two protesting boys—it didn’t seem to be a weekly thing.  Liam dropped us off a few minutes early, and Margaret suggested that we “go see Kir.”  “Yesss!!” was the boys response, and we headed toward the graveyard.  The Burkes had another child, a daughter, Ciara (pronounced Kyra) who died of some sort of stomach complications five years ago, when she was thirteen.  I was expecting something sad and solemn, but we just stood by her grave chatting for a few minutes, and rearranging the loads of flowerpots and decorations on the grass in front (which Conor had mowed the day before!).  After a bit, it was time to go.  Margaret kissed the picture on the gravestone and the boys waved “Bye, Kir!”

Mass was hard.  I could almost immediately understand why the boys hadn’t wanted to come.  Those in the small choir were the only ones who got to sing, and the combination of the priest’s microphone and the long pauses between his words made him almost impossible to listen to.  Overall, the whole service was rushed—the sanctuary was very cold, and everyone there just sped through the liturgy.  I couldn’t even keep up with the bits I knew!

Overall, a blessing of a weekend.

I would appreciate prayer, though, for my boldness in sharing the gospel.  I know that this doesn’t always need to be directly through words, but lately I’ve been having trouble speaking up when I should. 

Turn the Lady, Turn the Gent!

In honor of the end of my Early Start Musics of Ireland class, I thought I'd give y'all a bit of entertainment.

First, last week, we were given a few minutes to write a rap in class about our experiences so far in Cork...laugh if you want to, but you should have heard me perform it!

I come from the land of green and rain
I get here and, everything's the same!
But there is no y'all
That'll build you a wall
They don't have lacrosse
and I don't get Gaelic football

Living in the city where mayonaisse is king
(they put that stuff on everything)
Look out my window
I see Finbarr's in the sky, so
Walking to my class
up that hill, going so slow

I spent some time at the English Market
don't have a car so I don't have to park it
just walk on my feet
learn to dance from Daithi
It's been a workout
so every night I like to sleep

yo.

AND, tonight we had our final class party--an open-mic night, complete with tin whistle, dancing, bodhran, and Uillean pipes performances.  A couple friends and I finished off the night with our own version of "Down By The Salley Gardens"...here's the verse about my Irish love-life, as well as our closing verse.

Down in the aisles at Tesco
my love and I did meet
deep, rich dark eyes and sweet words
they swept me off my feet
my friends tried to steal my love from me--
they thought he was a treat!
Oh, I am young and foolish,
and nutella is so sweet!

Walking up the hill to music
we sweat off about 10 pounds
I lost me favorite jumper
when Daithi spun me round
Moley taught us rap and beat box
and Karl taught us bodhran, too
we're no longer young and foolish
dear Michelle, that's thanks to you!

Lots of laughs and a prize CD from that song.

So, in lieu of detailing the last few weeks of my Early Start program, maybe those gave you a bit of  a glimpse into what I've been up to...or at least gave you a laugh. :)

"Real" classes start Monday, but (more importantly?) Cork is playing Co. Down in the GAA football finals Sunday afternoon! BIG DEAL.

For now, to bed.  Cheers!