salthill & diddley-dums.

This past week has been pretty eventful.  Monday marked the second year after Jenn’s death, my appointment with the Garda, and my first minor embarrassment here.  (I slipped down a hill and had to go to school, to the Garda, and back to school with a huge streak of mud up my jeans.)   Tuesday was less busy, but, what would a day in Ireland be without a mildly interesting/embarrassing anecdote to tell?  This time I was wandering around the city aimlessly with a friend between classes, and we were doing a pretty good job not getting lost when, all of a sudden, we took this road that was actually the entrance to a closed all-boys’ school campus.  Instead of walking past the same gaggle of sweater-vest-clad boys, we wandered around the campus a while, discovering gardens and statues of the Virgin Mary but no other exits, contemplating what it would be worth to suavely hop the stone fence so as not to suffer further embarrassment.  We eventually decided to just go out the same way we came in, which was the only way anyway, and it was a good idea, too.  If we’d tried to jump the fence, we’d have landed right in the river.

I think this is Shop Street.

I also went to my first after-class lecture on Tuesday.  It was by this guy from the National Museum of Ireland, and he was talking about his theories that the bog bodies dated from the Iron Age were actually the bodies of sacrificed kings.  I mean, how cool is that?  It was believed that, during the coronation ceremonies, the king was married to the goddess of the Earth.  As long as it was a good king, harvests would be plentiful.  A bad harvest meant a bad king meant the king had to be sacrificed.  It was easier that way, so that no one could really contest it.  These bodies are just so freaking amazing.  They still have their hair tied in knots that denote status.  You can tell from their fingernails what they were eating 4 months before they died.  You can find butter and other things in bogs, too.  How freaking cool!

School kids joking around with bog butter.

(found by a Google image search)

I was a little disappointed on Tuesday because I didn’t get to go to The Crane to see Trad Soc play, but I have someone to go with next week.  On Thursday, a girl from the Butler program and I went to the Dance Soc  intermediate Irish dance lesson and it turns out she’s an Irish music nerd too!  :D  It was so much fun having a dance lesson again, let me tell you.  It’s been way too long.  I learned a new slip jig and a new treble jig, and at the end, we were invited to join the advanced class!  We’re going to watch on Monday and see, but it would be super cool if I could join, because they’re doing this competition against other Irish universities called Varsities.  Even if I don’t actually compete with them, I still think it would be super awesome to train with them. 

Just a bunch of swans broing around in the Claddagh.

But oh, boy, am I ever sore.  I was dancing in my socks, which is pretty okay at contra, but for as intense as it was last night, there’s just not enough support there.  I’m hoping mom’s got my shoes in the mail and they come soon enough.  How exciting!  But I’m also sore because Amy and I just went on a three hour walk.  We set out for Salthill, which was absolutely amazing.  It’s indirectly part of the reason I chose Galway over other universities in the first place.  Well, because I absolutely adore the song Galway Girl, and Salthill is mentioned, so… Anyway, it was super exciting, and I may or may not have squealed with joy as the water became visible over the road.  After that, we walked around town, visited the Galway City Museum, and headed home.  It goes without saying, but I just want to say it anyway: I never want to walk again.

Epic self-timer shot at Salthill.  I am the master.

Goals for the next week:

Find the market and buy some bread/cheese

Plan a trip for next weekend

See a movie

Go to The Crane for Trad Soc

Catch up with reading