Drop it like it's hot, or a theatre class.

There’s a new professor on campus with a freshly printed doctorate teaching scriptwriting this semester. She sent us a brief email introducing herself prior to the beginning of the semester.

On the first day of class, she strode over to me.

Professor: Hi! I’m Dr. Katie. I don’t believe we’ve met yet.

Audrey: I wonder if she’s related to Dr. Laura. Hi, I’m Audrey.

Dr. Katie: What’s your major?
Audrey: Communications. What’s yours?

Dr. Katie: Well, I teach this class… My major was… (etc.)

I almost transferred out right then and there. If Dr. Katie can’t understand my sarcasm, how can I expect her to understand my soul?

Jim was just kidding, Leonard.
He knows you're solely a doctor.

I didn’t drop the class then. I thought I could move forward. Then I realized what the class was about.Dr. Katie: So who are your guys’ favorite playwrights and characters?

Oh no. This is a theatre course.

Student: Shakespeare!

I then tuned out, because he stole the only relevant word I knew in that discussion.

I figured I could keep quiet and she wouldn’t notice that I despise plays and nearly everything associated with theatre.

Dr. Katie: Audrey, who’s your favorite character?

Audrey: …Hermione.

Strike 2. One more, and I’m dropping this class.



Hey, look at me, I'm a moron!

Prof: What do you guys like to see in plays? What are you passionate about?
Animals. But I’m going to keep my mouth shut in case my opinion is wrong.
Student: Love.

What?  I thought we were talking about objects, like mullets and the color green. You can't see love. Student 2: Good conquering evil.

Wait. We could read Twilight based on these answers.

Strike 3.  

Show me a day old sandwich, and I'll show you my delicious dinner for tonight.

              I’ve changed since I have come to Ireland, like I now put milk in my cereal. Sometimes. Here are a few mind boggling facts I learned here:

1)      You know how grilled cheese is awesome, but only for five minutes after it has been made? Take heart soldiers, it can be salvaged by taking it for a spin in the microwave then burning all of its impurities out in the toaster.

2)      Saint Patrick was a beast. He was captured by the Irish and made a slave, but eventually escaped. And then the feisty man came back! Maybe it was because if they tried to take him again, he could say, “I’m going because I want to, not because you told me to." This is basically how it went down:

Why the heck would you go back, Patrico?

I want them to love me and eventually throw me a parade. Jesting, jesting. For Jesus!

And then he went back, and everyone loved him because he was super loving and wasn’t afraid of the pagan gods.

Patty, how come the Dagda doesn’t make you shake in your bed each night?

Because I’m not afraid of nonexistent gods.  

Touché.  

Pat looks very dapper after 1500 years



3)      Grape fluid is unpalatable. We attended a service at Christ Church, and they served us the hard stuff. Holy mackerel, Jesus is tasting a little bitter today. I don’t mind the communion wine at Hillside as much. It’s kind of strong, but it’s only a baby shot, so I can deal with it. Then I found out it was grape juice. I still say it’s too strong.

4)      I can wash my face in five seconds flat. Not because I enjoy power washing, but because Ireland has implemented the two-faucet deal. You can choose from extreme hotness or extreme coldness, which usually leads to extreme pain.

5)      Ireland has these nifty metal boxes on most main streets that shoot out free money! Maybe that’s why they’re in a recession.

6)      The difference between a latte and a cappuccino is the amount of milk foam. Don’t pay more for air.

 

Happy to be ripping off customers

       7)      I can’t do an Irish accent because the Irish don’t sound very Irish. If I tried, I’d just end up sounding South African, and we all know how embarrassing that is.

8)      The sign “To Let” is never a typo for “Toilet”. Ireland has very few public toilets, but my bladder has been strengthened because of this.

I hate you.

Everyone knows that Ireland is green, has sheep, and it rains there more often than a king (except when we were here, thank goodness). But, there’s more to it than that. I like the small tidbits of Ireland because it makes the bigger picture make more sense. So, if you ask me “How was Ireland?” or “What did you learn there?”, expect a step-by-step instruction on how to salvage a sandwich. I like to focus on the important things.

Gravy-smothered squid with a side of mushrooms and beets? I'll take it!

                If the west is where it was won, why didn’t I see any trophies?

                We ventured to the opposite side of Ireland at the end of April for our last trip. We stopped at a major tourist attraction: the Blarney Stone. The Irish say there’s a difference between blarney and BS. For example:

                BS: Telling a 50-year-old woman that she doesn’t look a day over 20.

                Blarney: Asking the age of an older woman so you know at what age girls become beautiful.

               Precious.

  One Taylor boy at the end of the queue may or may not have French kissed the stone. I hope he enjoyed my leftovers. 

Get a room

We took a boat to get to our hike in Dunloe. I thought it was going to be a ten minute ride. It was actually 100 minutes. I was not amused.

Natalie and I decided to run the hike, which was supposed to last about 3 hours.

                Lexi: You’re going to run seven miles?

                Audrey: Well you’re going to walk it.

Hell mountain awaited us. I know, because it made my quads burn.

We planned to run the whole thing. Then we realized we were running up a mountain. Ok, we can just run two miles at a time…1 mile…Five minute intervals, and no less! It didn’t help that we had just eaten lunch. The peak of the incline was a glorious moment indeed. We no longer stopped because of shortness of breath, but instead because we spotted sweet action bridges that looked like they belonged in China (because they were made out of chopsticks. Weird.) and adorable baby infant lambies.

People should really stop saying, "You're so cute, I could just eat you up!"
Because then they do.

                We visited Muckross House, a 65-room mansion built in the 1800s for Mr. and Mrs. Herbert . I suppose I don’t understand the purpose of ornateness.

                Henry: Mary, my dear, why did you purchase a 100 kilogram, 4 meter high, gold-plated mirror with squirrel detail that cost 2000 euro?

                Mary: So I can do my hair in the morning.

In addition, they had a bell system, which linked every room to the main hallway. For instance, if you’re in the boudoir, you can ring the bell, and then a corresponding bell in the main hallway labeled “boudoir” rings, prompting a servant to come to your stead. This is the equivalent of texting your mother from your room to bring you a sandwich.

            

    We visited the Cliffs of Moher, but you can’t look over the edge, so nix that location on your “Must see in Ireland” list. Dun Angus on the Aran Islands was much more worthwhile. We army crawled out to the edge and stuck our necks over. There’s nothing quite like immanent death to wake you up in the morning. It’s slightly ridiculously looking over a cliff edge, screaming, and clinging to the ground for dear life when you realize that if you were hanging over your bedside, you wouldn’t be nearly as scared. Probably. I was just excited that if I did accidentally partake in the 100-meter plummet, it would be faster than any sprint I’ve done in my life. Maybe that’s how people in the west keep winning.

I wish I was as fearless as my water bottle.

                Hanna and I went out most nights for live music. Irish people have a habit of playing “Sweet Home Alabama”. I had no idea that they all lived there.

                I also realized I have a habit of ordering food I don’t like. In high school, I once ordered sausage and gravy before realizing that this meant there would be gravy smothering the deliciousness out of my food. In Galway, I asked for calamari. There’s nothing quite like having fried rubber for dinner.

Obsolete things: Overalls, Brett Favre, and my camera.

               My camera fell in the toilet this week. I retrieved it and have tried turning it on twice now. The first time it was black, probably because I forgot to put the battery back in. The second time the screen was whitish and shaky like it was taking ecstasy, and I know for a fact that it is way too young to be doing drugs.

                I know what you’re thinking. Did the camera fall in pre-flush or post-flush? Well there’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that it was pre-flush. The good news is that I drank 4000mL of water that day and was more hydrated than a drowning camel. I wasn't even too upset about that. What really boomed my dynamite was that I didn't even drop my camera; it committed suicide. It wriggled its way out of my sweatshirt pocket and leapt to its death. Perhaps I’d pressed his buttons one too many times. Or maybe he was trying to go toward the light. I didn’t even get to tell him, That’s just the flash. RIP man, you will be easily replaced.

I was going to buy him floaties for his birthday

                                  

Don’t sprinkle my donut. I hate eating wet pastries.

When they said that a ‘doctor baker’ was coming to teach a class, I hoped we were going to learn how to treat a cake with a muscle strain (I think it just needs to be iced). Then I realized it was Dr. Baker.

Dr. Beulah Baker is a lively lady. If we would have met her at the airport, I’m certain she would have started lecturing right then. Instead, she kindly waited until she arrived at the YWCA and then began class promptly, even though her biological clock told her it was 4am. She nods a lot, perhaps because she agrees with what she’s saying. I nodded a lot too, mostly off. [Just kidding; she’s a fascinating American.]

We learned quite a bit that week in our Irish literature class. I remember thinking I have no free time. Do I really not have any free time or am I just not using my time wisely? I worked out at the leisure center one day, and consequently stayed up one hour later to finish my homework.

 Conclusion: We really didn’t have any free time.

The reading was intense for the week and a half Dr. Baker was here. Some of the stories were grand. Others were more like the slogan “The greatest fair on earth” on the Hillsdale Grandstand: not true, but it’s painted on there, so let’s believe it anyway. One common theme that coursed through the works we read was awesome quotes. One of my favorites is:

“She took a tick out of his neck and touched the spot where the tick had drawn one pin-prick of blood; it was then they danced.”- Irish Revel

I’m not sure why they were dancing or how they were dancing. Perhaps it was a melancholy party boy, seeing as how the man only had a short time left to live since he probably just contracted Lyme disease.

We ventured to Sligo, Donegal, and Derry to experience the historical and literary significance of the cities. One special bonus to the trip was that we received free dinner from the hotel restaurant every night.  They served bread and three dips on the table at one dinner. I spread what looked like garlic dip on my bread, and it was quite tasty.

Audrey: What is this dip?

Waitress: Tartar sauce.

Mmm, there’s nothing like a hunk of mayonnaise to make a smooth trip for the bread sliding down my gullet.

Unlike man, God saw it was good for bread to be alone.

They gave us a menu of three choices for the main dish at each dinner. One night was lamb, fish and chips, or ham and turkey. I couldn’t bear to eat a cute baby lamb after seeing them frolic in the pastures. I didn’t want anyone yelling, “Ewe murderer!” at me. I’ve decided not to have fish until I can douse it in so much salt it’ll shrivel up. I ordered the ham and turkey; the pig died in vain.

In the times that we weren’t dining, we traveled to the locations mentioned in our books. I wish we would have read from CS Lewis so we could have visited Narnia. Instead, we stood on the street mentioned in the novel Reading in the Dark. We were standing at the very corner Larry had stood on page 52! Well, he totally would have stood there if he had existed. I’ve never followed in the footsteps of a fictional person before; they’re just as hard to see as I expected.

Fog messes everything up. Now I can't see Larry.

We were asked to journal about the different places we visited. Mine consisted of four pages of Sudoku, except for the actual words written about the epic woods in Sligo, because that place was more magical than markers, a young girl’s heart, and unicorns combined.



I'm just scared of how happy I am.

Debating is really fun. But that's debatable.

You know what really grinds my gears? They don’t have Lucky Charms here. You know what other place doesn’t have Lucky Charms? Europe. You know what else poisons my water hole? The movie Leprechaun wasn’t even filmed in Ireland. You know where it was filmed? Outer space. But seriously guys... Green? Does anyone know what the national color of Ireland is? Blue. And what’s the color of the European Union flag? Blue. Connection? I think so; and more than Irish would like to admit.

                This was my teammate Dan’s intro to our debate question: Should Ireland’s identity be viewed in the context of Europe or independently as a solitary nation? The team I joined was in favor of the former.

This is Dan. It's ok to judge him by his looks.

Here’s the point I wrote:

If you're an Irishman when you enter the restroom, then what are you while you're inside the stall? European! Ireland is best viewed in terms of Europe as a whole because Ireland’s history is heavily tied to other European nations. Ireland was invaded so much, if it were a food, it would be a seizure salad.  Ireland cannot be viewed solely as an isolated nation or culture because it has been heavily influenced by the groups who have invaded it. We have the Vikings, the English, the Spanish hopped over here for a while too.  The Irish were getting beat up by everything from the Viking’s horns to England’s tea cups. Plus, there are immigrants from other nations currently living here as well. Ireland is not quite a melting pot, but more like a casserole: it’s mainly pasta with a few other things thrown in.

Yes, they did some important things in history that made them distinct, but so have other countries, such as Italy’s Roman Catholic Church and how Spain is well-known for the style of its cathedrals. But, they’ve all merged together. The Catholicism of Rome has spread throughout Europe. The Spanish have influenced other cultures, as in how their architecture can be seen throughout Europe and how they declare “Naps aren’t just for kindergartners!” The unique contribution that Ireland has made and its distinguishing characteristics doesn’t detract from it as a separate nation but it also doesn’t mean that Ireland is not a part of the greater European context, influencing other countries and being influenced by other nations.

The Protestant-Catholic conflict may seem very distinct, but it was also a prevalent issue in England and many other European countries were choosing their fav. denominations at the point as well. While it was a climax in Ireland, this conflict was also occurring elsewhere in Europe.

In the words of Dan, you know what else grinds my gears and Brads my Kellyn? How Saint Patrick is viewed as a classic Irish hero when he was born in Wales, gained an education from England, and brought influences to Ireland from England and France. The Christianity he brought was very European. He emphasized the distinct values of the Irish, but those values were not unique to the Irish. A lot of the values the Irish had were influenced by other European nations. For instance, one reason they valued courage so much was because they were frequently invaded, and they really liked it when any lads put up their knives and angrily told them to “Stop it!” However, Ireland was not alone in its invasions. Countries in Eastern Europe were suffering from invasions as well. So, while a value such as courage was emphasized in Ireland, this value was not unique from other European countries who endured similar experiences to the Irish. Each European culture has different emphases, but as in the example of both the Irish and Eastern valuing courage, there are overlaps between cultures.
[Verdict: Debating is fun.]

While we’re not debating, we like to do this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=735V3baLT-k

I wish the light at the end of the tunnel would try to run me over so I could get to Greystones faster

               A good way to start an adventure is to give four girls a destination without a map. Not that the map would help.

                Four of us chicks embarked on a journey to the town of Kilcoole in search of fish and chips. It’s a five minute Dart ride, so I was envisioning a one mile walk. Oh how wrong I was. We walked, and walked, stopped, walked, stared at the sun, hoping it would blind us so we wouldn’t have to see how far we had to walk, strutted and strolled to change things up a bit, and laid down on the train tracks, aspiring to use Murphy’s Law to our advantage by catching the train that would inevitably come to run us over.  

This is actually kind of resembles Kilcoole's train platform

                 After more than an hour of trekking, I realized that we were either very slow walkers or Kilcoole didn’t exist. I was very nearly right on the latter. When we finally arrived at the train platform, it was deserted. There wasn’t a ticket booth or even people around. There was a sign that said something like, “Hey, don’t get hit by the train; no one will come save you, no matter how loud you yell.”  

DART bait oo-ha-ha

                We moseyed up the hill in search of the town. Instead, we stumbled upon a very classy gift shop. It was filled with candles in saran wrap and even a hedgehog holding a graduated cylinder, which I’ve been searching for for years. The owner of the shop actually was nice. We told her we were lost and looking for the town, and she offered us a lift so we could skip out on the mile walk. She was a stranger, but then I thought, What if she has candy too? So we hopped in.  

                  

Hedgehogs want foliage And rain water?
Greedy monsters.



Reese's Cups, my favorite!

         



                 The town was about as much of a town as the DART platform was a train station. We asked several people for directions to a pub, and we received the same response: Celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day early, are we? It was 2pm on a Wednesday, and we weren’t even going to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day that way on Saint Patrick’s Day. They also were flabbergasted that we walked from Greystones. Don’t you know there’s a bus? I should have paid attention to the word “bus”.

                We wandered around the main street, even getting so desperate as to try a Chinese pub. It was closed, probably for the best.  I love mini corn, but not on that day.

In the distance, I saw a van.  It looked like it could have been parked outside of a restaurant.

                Audrey: Guys, that van says “Fruits and Vegetables” on it.

                Ladies: What? How can you read that?

It seems that just thinking about carrots gives me improved vision.

                The van was parked outside of a restaurant indeed. I’ve never screamed joyfully at a building before, but I’m sure it was flattered.

I could suckle on that bad boy all day

                After our delectable lunch of fish and chips, the time to catch the train back to Greystones was upon us. At the platform, we waited for our 3:15 train. At 3:05, we spotted a train in the distance.

                Natalie: Good thing we came here early, guys!

Then the train blazed past us.

                Our hopes were quickly dashing.

                3:14: Man, I hope the train comes.

    3:15: No train.

                3:18: Are those lights in the distance?

                3:19: The lights are definitely moving!

                3:20: The train is here!

                3:20:10: Why is the train still moving??

                At approximately 3:20:15, the train halted. After we boarded it and made our way back home, we realized that the train most likely wasn’t supposed to stop at that station. There wasn’t even a ticket to buy.  This is probably why the townspeople kept suggesting that we take a bus, because the train thinks it’s too cool to stop in Kilcoole. But, it was all fine and dandy because the conductor presumably felt sorry for us and let us on out of the goodness in his heart.  I will always remember him for as long as I’m in Greystones.

[This quest from March 16]