Back in Nebraska

After a long day of flights, we got back just a shade before midnight on Saturday, promptly headed to Taco Bell, and then crashed at our respective houses. It's been a fun trip. Check back later today or tomorrow, though, for more pictures.

Some final observations

Since, as you may know, the program ends tomorrow (and I fly out of Shannon early Saturday morning), I figured I would take the time to reflect a little bit more on the study abroad experience.

Of any of the negatives of traveling to Ireland—of which there are few—they all seem to relate with general travel among any European countries; they are the inevitabilities of the European Union. Examples? Being nickel-and-dimed at grocery stores for things such as bags, carts and using the bathroom; the lack of value of the dollar versus the Euro; and myriad annoying Spanish and Italian tourists. The Irish themselves, as has been my limited experience, are fantastically polite, friendly, courteous and pleasant to talk to; I can't count how many random conversations we've had with people on the street, in pubs, in shops or restaurants, where they welcomed us to Ireland or wished us well on the trip. All, if they've been to the US, have been to NYC. They seem to recognize the Irish connection the city has.

Perhaps my least favorite part of the trip has been the dreary weather—and how quickly a dark raincloud can appear out of sunny and clear sky and drench you. I understand, however, that the country is in a particular bad spell; and Limerick is notorious for its poor weather. We're at the center of the storm, apparently, and there is no eye.

But those negatives are insignificant to the positives of the study abroad experience. The classes have been interesting, though perhaps not as much as getting to know the professors very well. Conversations with the Irish we've been connected to, through Stephen or at the dean's house or met randomly, have been enormously educative. And simply being out of the United States for a month has proved to teach its lessons—it allows to step back even further from your country and assess it as objectively as possible.

All in all, I'm extremely grateful for the opportunity. I've gotten to see exhibits and sites connected with Joyce and Yeats; see some beautiful geographic features, such as the Burrens and the Cliffs of Moher; see the institutions of the Irish government; meet many Irish people; experience traditional Irish music, restaurants, and pubs; learn about Ireland's history and independence from England, and medieval conquests; and I've seen many towns about the country (Limerick, Gort, Cork, Dublin, Delvin, Mollingar, Doolin, Athlonne, Birr, Negagh).

English Nerds, Be Jealous...

...because yesterday I saw the wild swans of Coole. Alone—apparently the only Yeats junkie of the group—I took the bus out to Gort, Co. Galway, about an hour from Limerick, and then walked 2 1/2 miles through the countryside to Coole Park, a site Yeats spent a lot time. The park essentially used to be the estate of the famous patron/playwright Lady Gregory. While her house is merely ruins—it was demolished in the 1940s—the rest of the park and nature reserve surrounding it are in tact. The walled gardens, too, are still around, as is the gigantic "Autograph Tree," which features the carved-in signatures of Yeats, Sean O'Casey and George Bernad Shaw, among others.

I then walked down to Coole Lake, the site of the famous poem "The Wild Swans at Coole." There were swans on the lake, though not quite nine and fifty, as you may see in the picture, but I don't know if they were wild or not. Given their already foul tempers, I thought I'd stay back.

Yesterday was, finally, a gorgeous day: sunny and clear skies and only a few drops of rain. The weather was even better in Gort.

Cork: My Favorite City in Ireland

As it was the priority spot for both Richard and I—given we both have ancestors who at one time lived in Cork—Saturday morning we awoke quite early and caught the 8:35 bus to the city.

Overall, I’d say Cork was my favorite town—it had many of the advantages of Dublin and Limerick, without either city’s disadvantages. Situated in a valley, the view from the inside of the town lets you see many houses perched up and around the sides, and the main city center is laid out cleanly and compactly. To our pleasure, it was a good walking city.

Soon after arriving, we stopped at St. Finnbar’s Cathedral, which, of all the churches I’d been to in Ireland, takes the preverbal cake. An Anglican cathedral, it featured the most ornate carvings and paintings and most beautiful stained glass. Despite not being very old, it more than made up for it in beauty. Also interesting was the mostly below-ground organ.

After that we grabbed lunch and caught a bus to Blarney, which was just about 20 minutes outside Cork, as part of an effort to endow ourselves with the gift of gab. Blarney Castle, home of the famous Blarney Stone, sits in a large park area with windings streams and flowers and gardens surrounding it. The castle itself was one of the more interesting I’ve come upon: a large tower, mostly, with a few surrounding turrets. The line to kiss the stone and thus endow upon yourself, traditionally, with the gift of gab, extended out the base of the castle. As you progressed, you would your way up narrow stairs and past small windowed rooms. It made for a more interesting wait.

Both Richard and I kissed the stone. It didn’t taste particularly bad, and I didn’t feel like I knew it well enough to give it some tongue. The taste lingered in my mouth as we walked around the village of Blarney and took the bus back to Cork.

We then walked to the University College Cork campus, a series of Trinity-like Gothic buildings mixed in with the Limerick-like newer ones. There were also flowers and a gardens and plenty of Italians and Spaniards walking about. Coincidentally enough, a friend of ours studied at UCC and gave us some recommendations about places to visit. On his recommendation, we next attempted to find the Hi-B Bar, a local watering hole. It took us some time—we even stopped for ice cream at another place recommended to us by a neighbor on the Blarney bus—but eventually we found it. It was a small, out of the way awning; you had to go up a back flight of stairs that ended in a old wood door that concealed a small, bad smelling room with one bar.

Imagine our surprise upon, when ordering drinks, we heard someone say "Nebraska"—at least we thought. That inclination was ratified by "Mississippi" and "Omaha." We sat down with drinks in hand next to the table and asked if what we heard was true. Sure enough, one of the two couples—all in their early 30s, probably—said his sister was moving to Omaha. Amazing. We ended up talking to them for 2 hours, and didn't pay for drinks again. They were extremely nice and pleasant to talk to. Our friend's recommendation was spot on.

We got a quick bite to eat before catching the late train back to Limerick.

As a side note, my parents noticed an old bridge in Cork that they had realized would have been around when our ancestors lived in the city. I, too, found the bridge and walked across it. Hence the picture.

The Cliffs of Moher

Great day. Not necessarily weatherwise—when is it?—though rain seemed to hold off long enough for us to get a great view of the Cliffs of Moher.

The trip was a lot more than that, though: we had a hired bus for all 10 students, and Professors McCallister and Lyons joined us. Professor McCallister's wife and five kids, who are now in Ireland visiting their father, also tagged along. Our bus driver doubled as a tour guide, and mentioned historical tidbits about such-and-such castle as we drove by it.

We stopped first at a smaller castle, and then to the remains of one of the best-preserved stone circular forts built by inhabitants of Ireland during the early Bronze age. Not long after we stopped at the "Burrens," a craggy area stipped naked to the rock at the end of the last ice age, which also featured an iconic tomb.




Next, we drove around the scenic Galway bay (north of Limerick) and stopped to take photos. Lunching in Doolin, the town nearest the Cliffs, I ate a fantastic seafood chowder—big chunks of Salmon and other, all native fish, made the dish quite filling. I also had a couple King Prawns, which were equally fantastic.



We then hiked up to the Cliffs of Moher, which is quite the tourist attraction—Europeans of all stripes crowded around viewing points, and walking around we heard Spanish, German, Italian, some miscellaneous Slavic languages, and saw both Irish and British tourists as well. Not many Americans, though, except for a couple girls whose picture we took.

The cliffs, as the pictures suggest, were breathtaking—just an enormous cut off in the land, to a huge drop at the sea—like God had grown tired of making the island at once, and immediately moved on to another project. The official part of the area has a large wall separating you from much danger. On the other side, though—where, I'll admit, my pictures come from—there is a winding dirt path, ground down by so many feet, on "private property," allowing you to get a better look at everything. We took both paths. The unofficial part has no protecting wall or anything—it was quite scary in some parts, and would have been more so if the wind had kicked up like it apparently usually does. Not too many other tourists had much compunction in "trespassing." I suspect that the signs are essentially legal shelters, allowing the landowner to treat any drunk or careless person who nosedives off the side as a "trespasser" and therefore—assuming that, given Ireland's common law status, the law is relatively similar—a lower legal standard of care in tort.

Killaloe

After the usual routine of class, we took cars out to Killaloe (KILL-A-LOO), a small town on Lough (Lake) Derg about 25 minutes outside of Limerick (the Shannon River runs into the lough). It was, for sure, an absolutely gorgeous lake town—as my pictures suggest. Thankfully the weather cooperated, though it sprinkled a bit on the way back. The cathedral—where the picture to the right is from—dated back to the 12th century, though the origins of it date back from a few centuries earlier. King Brian Boru made the area on top of the hill, where another church now stands (here, the picture of the cometary, below) the de facto capital of Ireland some 200 years earlier. With a steep hill on either side, both running down to the river, it must have been a formidable fortification in its day.

We sat over looking the river and had a lecture on the EU's transition into a single currency. The town was truly the idyllic example of the Irish towns I imagined; little shops and pubs lined the winding streets, and many beautiful houses were perched on the hillsides, all probably with spectacular views. The bridge spanning the river was only one lane: it required stoppage at lights on either side to avoid gridlock.

Tomorrow, again, we head to the beautiful Cliffs of Moher. I can't wait—should provide for some spectacular photos as well.

A Break for Contemplation

Without anything significant happening since I returned from the Midlands, and with a big few days coming ahead, I figured it would be a good time to do some reflection and synthesis of the experience thus far. And without a coherent structure in mind, this post takes the form of bullet points.

• The weather has been worse than I expected, though it shows signs of improving. Rain comes down in small sessions, sometimes to the extent that we'd call "pouring," but mostly in a calm showers. As I understand it, at least from the cabdrivers, Limerick is undergoing a particularly nasty spell of showers.

• Ireland's youth seem to be in striking contrast with their elders on views of religion. Stephen said that many kids his age and younger don't frequently attend church; the service Richard and I went to, consisting almost entirely of people 50 and over, only reinforced this. I noticed large pictures—the traditional "Sacred Heart of Jesus" portraits—hanging up both in Dean Freel's house and in Mrs. King's house.

• The people have been extraordinarily nice. Everyone whom we've asked directions from, or who we've met—Stephen's relatives, the dean of the Limerick law school, random people in pubs—have been pretty universally courteous.

• Ireland follows UK spellings (i.e., "colour" and "dramatise"). In case you're a nerd like me. Guess I never really thought that they wouldn't—I hadn't thought much about it at all.

• Everything has been more expensive than I would have thought. Not extremely expensive—it's still probably cheaper than England—but not as cheap as one would have thought for a country that has just recently gained first-world status. Professor Eaton chalks up some of the increased cost to rising property values, but the simple fact that the EU supposedly possesses a large "free market" of goods doesn't seem to be having the desired result of driving down goods costs.

• The food has been fantastic. The best meal I probably have had, outside of Stephen's grandmother's fantastic Sunday feast, was at a restaurant in downtown Limerick last week—I had salmon (cooked, not smoked) over a plate of uniquely flavored noodles. The salmon was incredibly flavorful and different. Pepper sauce, ubiquitous on the island, is also fantastic—especially on a steak sandwich. We've tried both Burger King (they still have the Big King!) and McDonald's, with the former in much better shape than the latter. Subways, also, seem to be everywhere.

• Irish politics, is, not surprisingly, rabidly anti-Bush. Ahern seems reasonably popular, but not divine.

Well, that's all for now. Tomorrow we're taking cabs up to Killaloe, a beautiful lake not far from Limerick, for an EU law lecture. Friday we journey to the Cliffs of Moher for a day trip; when we return, I plan on seeing "A Midsummer Night's Dream" at King John's Castle. Saturday morning, I think, Richard and I are planning on taking the bus/train to Cork, probably staying all day Saturday, overnight, and then returning Sunday.

A Taste of the Country

And by taste, I mean stomachful—though in the literal sense, as, upon journeying out to the "Midlands" of Ireland this weekend, we received in royal fashion—complete with china—a succulent meal of roast beef, turnip, cooked leets, potatoes, a fried-roll-type-thing, and two desserts, all from Stephen's grandmother. The feast matched her surname: King. (Yes, Stephen's name is Stephen King). Anyhow, Stephen had invited us up to his house for weekend, having to be there himself, as his parents are on "holiday" in Spain.

Thankfully, for the most part, the weather cooperated with us: the winding bus ride, which almost followed the bends of the Shannon, was pleasant enough, with views of surrounding hills and a few entertaining towns passed through—among them the charming Birr—each complete with their own ancient spire, which fell into an equally ancient church, itself surrounding by interesting looking restaurants and pubs and shops. Toward the edge of each city, though, American-like suburban development, complete with acres of parking space, seemed to eat up a few lush fields. The final stop of the bus we took was Athlonne, itself an interesting town—unfortunately one we didn't get to see more of. Oh well, Stephen and his grandmother picked us up and drove us the last hour to their farm.

They have about 250 acres, a pretty sizable chunk of land for Ireland (given its small sizes). Primarily the land serves as grazing land for the 112 cows, who are milked twice a day. But the King farm also has a horse, a few pheasants, some ducks, a couple goats, and the ubiquitous farm dogs.

That day, we learned how to "hurl" from Stephen's sister—it's a lacrosse-like game, except a bit more challenging—and watched Stephen milk the cows before watching a Bond film and rocking out to Stephen's renditions of some Beatles songs (he's quite good).

We spent the next sleeping and eating at his grandmother's house, and then relaxing, more hurling, and a grand tour of the property. In almost every way, it was the opposite of the Dublin weekend—halcyon, not hectic; and commodious, instead of cramped. Both have their merits, though.



A side note: upon arriving, we actually saw a rainbow: but decided not to follow it to its base and attempt to find a pot of gold.

King John's Castle

Well, as per this blog's namesake, of course I had to visit perhaps Limerick's top tourist destination, King John's Castle, at least once while I was in the city. About seven of us took advantage of a beautiful Thursday and walked into town to see the castle.

Built in the early 13th century, King John's castle never actually housed its namesake—rather, it was more of a PR ploy than anything else, as John had gained a reputation for being a terrible king, and, as Lord of Ireland, wanted to reclaim some glory. Anyhow, the castle was built on top of original Viking settlements extant since the 10th century and has taken many uses over the years—perhaps most notably it was sieged when troops under the control of Cromwell attempted to sieze control of Ireland in 1641-2. The museum, quality-wise, was okay—the best part of the castle was probably being able to look out and around the city atop one of its tall towers. There were plenty of cool remains recently unearthed of Viking houses, however, and I did learn a good deal about the town of Limerick—itself originally founded by Vikings in the early 10th century. Pretty amazing stuff.

We also ventured over to the Limerick City museum, which, although a bit dated, still had some interesting artifacts from as far back as 6000 BC—extremely dated, in fact!—tools used by early inhabitants of the area. The museum also featured artifacts from some of the 1916 uprising leaders.

We meandered about the city after that, stopping at a Charlie-Chaplin themed pub (which played only Oasis songs, to my delight) and to the Locke for dinner, where I had an amazing steak sandwich (with pepper sauce). Not surprising, given the name of the restaurant, it faced the Shannon.

Later, Richard and I walked out of Limerick (to the east) and into the surrounding countryside, seeing some nice houses and passing by a couple of golf courses and even seeing a fantastic sunset. It's too bad the ran has returned today. This weekend, when we venture to the countryside again—this time to weekend at Stephen's parents' house in Delvin (near Dublin), I hope it will be nicer.

Class?

Yes, I am actually taking classes here—though perhaps the attention on this blog has strayed away from them. Thus, I thought I would say a few words about what that is.

As a refresher, we have three classes: European Commercial Law, taught by an Irish law professors; Comparative Wills and Trusts, taught by a UNL law prof; and Comparative Freedom of Expression, taught by a Kansas law prof. Thus far each has been interesting in its own way—though I'll admit my predilections for journalism topics has made the Freedom of Expression course the most interesting so far.

Professor Eaton, who teaches the European Commercial Law course, has given us a good summation of the various treaties involved in the formation of the European community—the entity that has eventually evolved in the European Union. We have discussed the various barriers to competition and economic protectionism associated with creating a true free movement of goods, and the various political and judicial institutions of hte European Union that make such a free market possible and enforceable. Professor Eaton talks quite rapidly, watches everyone like a hawk, and can be sometimes hard to follow—if only because I'm used to the Socratic method, or to more theatrical lecturers.

Professor Lyons teaches the comparative Wills & Trusts course, which has so far dealt with a comparison to systems of "forced heirship" as our common in civil law jurisdictions of Europe (everyone but England and Ireland) vis-a-vis the common law system. We have also discussed incapacity of testators and the different approaches each has for determining heirs. Right now we are in forms of Assisted Reproduction, and the natural (or unnatural?) repercussions.

Lastly, the Freedom of Expression course compares American 1st Amendment law with the viewpoint of European, Asian and even African democracies on similar freedoms. American constitutional law approaches freedom of expression with much more protection for the speakers—other countries severely limit racist speech, or make it easier for someone to sue for libel. While I see the merits in such protection, I think the American system is more pragmatic.

Dublin, Pt. 2

After hitting the town on Thursday night, a pub in the Temple Bar area of Dublin—just a few blocks from the hostel we stayed in, Barnacles—named for the somewhat obscure writer Oliver St. John Gogarty, we embarked on the aforesaid excursions looking at the government of Ireland. This post, however, needs to cover what happened the rest of Friday and all of Saturday.

After the tour of Parliament ended, the group meandered about the immense and green campus of Trinity College. Large green fields separate the ancient buildings, and there seem to be more tourists than actual students walking between them. The famous Trinity College Library hosts the Book of Kells, an expertly marketed tourist destination; outside the library people took pictures of all kinds and queued up to see a few pages of the book. I regret, in some sense, not having seen it; perhaps I will get back to Dublin before the trip is over. Anyway, a small coterie of us did visit another library, the National Library, which featured—much to my joy—a splendid exhibit on Yeats. If I had to pick a favorite poet, which of course is a difficult exercise, I would have to pick Yeats. The exhibit featured many of Yeats poetry in its original handwritten form; corrected manuscripts; items from his childhood; first editions of books; and interactive Yeats computer programs.

Stephen, the one Irish student in our program, and I went around to a few music shops and then to Christchurch Cathedral. We eventually met back up with the group and proceeded to dinner at a restaurant outside of Temple Bar. That was nice, in a way, since Temple Bar is infused with tourists. After dinner we returned and several of us hit up the night life, stopping outside the post office on O'Connell street, where the proclamation declaring Ireland independent in 1916 was the harbinger of another round of horrible violence.

The next morning, thankfully not too early, we headed out to Kilmainham jail, the site of the infamous executions of the leaders of the 1916 uprising—14, to be precisely, at the spot marked with a tiny black cross amid a field of gravel. Nearby, a single Irish flag flapped in the wind. A haunting sight/site. After that, we proceeded to the Brazenhead—the oldest surviving pub in the world, founded in 1198—for lunch, and then made our separate ways back home, but not before stopping again at Christchurch. This time I spent more time, taking more photos of more things, and noted that the famous Norman Knight Strongbow was buried there, chilling by the side of the rows of chairs.

Limerick was sunny upon returning: the first time I have seen it so (by the way: the count is now up to 6). The weather is somewhat more cloudy today, but still better, it seems, than it has been. Last night we saw "Die Hard 4.0," whose name apparently changes abroad because "Live Free or Die Hard" would be lost on international moviegoers. It was interesting to see the Irish reaction: what they found funny, etc. Even before the credits rolled several people already started piling out, and upon our exiting the attendants were already in the theater, primed to clean up. Given that the movie theaters, beside the pubs/restaurants, are the only things open after 5 p.m., apparently those working there are interested in getting home as soon as possible.

Due to geography, the sun doesn't set here until about 10:30. The sky, upon the setting, seemed to have a richer blue color—as if all the green of the surrounding landscape were being partially reflected in the firmament. Given, also, the clarity, and that the movie theater sat on the highest ground of Limerick, it gave us quite a nice view on the walk back.

Dublin, Pt. 1

We returned via train to a (finally) sunny Limerick after a two day trip to Dublin. First time for me, of course, in the city. Dublin boasts about a quarter of Ireland's population.

My impressions: I need to go back. Train tickets aren't prohibitively expensive, but they're still pricey. I need to go back because they're is just a lot to see there.

Our official schedule on Friday, after arriving Thursday afternoon, was to attend the closing arguments of a murder trial at the Four Courts, the center (or perhaps "centre") of all Irish jurisprudence, and a tour of the Oireachtas (Parliament). Despite there essentially being four courts in the Irish system, the name does not—according to the barrister who gave us an introduction—derive from that fact. Rather, as per Ireland's former rule by Britain, it refers to the four traditional courts of the British system. Anyhow, the trial was interesting—for a while, as the defense attorney found it necessary to talk for an hour and a half before being cut off by an unhappy (and famous, apparently) judge.

We continued on to Parliament, which is, now, essentially a giant mansion that has been added on to both wings. Ireland has two houses of government, together with the President: the Dail (DAAL) and the Senead, though most of the power resides in the Dail, whose party leader, the Taoiseach (Bertie Ahern) is the prime minister. They are only directly elected. The building was beautiful: several rooms were equipped with Waterford Crystal, sculpture, and paintings. The chambers of the Dail were carpeted in beautiful velvety blue carpet.

There's more, but I've no time at the moment. Expect another blog post soon.

(Note: top is the Four Courts; below is Parliament.)

The 4th Abroad

The group is going up to a the dean's (of the Limerick law school) house outside Limerick to celebrate the 4th today, probably eating hamburgers to boot. Otherwise, it continues to be cool and rain here, although right now it is actually semi clear. We leave for Dublin tomorrow, returning Sunday afternoon. I'll be happy to get out Limerick and see the country.

Number of times I've seen the sun: 3.

And 2

More rain: alternatively pouring and sprinkling, though by now, mid afternoon, it has cleared up a bit. Check out these random ruins Richard and I noticed off the side of the road, after a walk to a nearby shopping center.

We're celebrating the 4th at the home of the dean of Limerick's law school. With all the dampness I doubt they'll be any fireworks. Apparently this weekend, Thursday through Sunday, the whole group is heading to Dublin. Should be a great time. Otherwise, not much else to report.

Number of times I've seen the sun: 2.

First Day of Class

I had to wake up early today, about 7:30 Ireland time (that's 1:30 in the morning central Lincoln time), because class started. We have three classes, which meet with 20 minutes breaks in this order: Comparative American/European Freedom of Expression; Comparative Wills & Trusts; and European Commercial law. The first two are, respectively, taught by a Kansas and Nebraska law professors; the third is taught by an Irish law professor. Ireland's lawyers, apparently, do not receive what we would consider a broad-based undergraduate degree before law school—they just go there directly from high school.

After class I purchased groceries, and then walked into town and ate some fish and chips—extremely greasy—at a mom & pop operation in downtown Limerick, almost within view of the Shannon River.

Some interesting things I've noticed thus far: buildings are "To Let" instead of "For Lease," one needs to remember to look left first before crossing the street, and because of the latitude it stays light from about 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. Right now, almost 10:00 p.m., it's still light.

Oh yeah, and it rains: straight down, for short intervals, a cool rain from large thick clouds extending the entire dome of the sky.

Given the weather, I'm going to start a running count—number of times I've seen the sun: 1.

Arrival

Well, I arrived safe and sound, on a long 5 1/2 hour flight with only the totally age inappropriate film "Wild Hogs" to comfort me. Correct that—I did have readings on Wills & Trusts and the First Amendment, which were interesting enough, if lengthy. We are still yet to receive our first assignment in European Commercial Law, which apparently we'll get after dinner and drinks tonight at a pub on the Limerick Campus.

Richard and I arrived about 6:00 a.m. Ireland time, and by the time we waited in line behind a few drunk businessmen and fought the crowds around the baggage "reclaim" (notice the difference) and rode the taxi in—during which time the cabbie discussed his love for John Wayne and cowboys—it was nearly 7:30. We woke the Limerick student housing rep to get us into our rooms.

After settling in, we headed toward the city, stopping at a few shops—all closed—until eventually stopping at St. John's Cathedral, an amazing Gothic church. We proceeded to a convenience shop/cafe for some breakfast food, and sat outside talking with two still-drunk, stereotypical Irish chaps. Quite nice, they told us about Limerick and even referenced "The Sopranos" and "South Park." Small world, apparently.

Richard and I then returned to the cathedral, it now being about 10:15 a.m., to attend mass. It was, without a doubt, the fastest mass I've ever been to: yes, I timed it. Thirty-two minutes. By ten minutes in we had already heard the homily. No singing, no pomp, no circumstance, but a beautiful church. Perhaps the most striking feature was a painted life-sized crucifix with Mary and (I believe) the apostle John flanking Jesus on either side, which hung between what would be the cross of the beams in the typical Gothic shape.

Well, I may take a nap before dinner tonight; I'm quite tired, having now been up about 22 hours straight.