féile pádraig

I have experienced St. Patrick's Day three different ways in my twenty years on earth.  At home, I used to be in a parade, walking (or dancing, if Peggy asked us to) in a wind suit in front of a car full of little ones (also in wind suits).  The parade ended and I was either dancing (this happened rarely) or backstage helping umpteen little girls out of one dress and into another, out of soft shoes and into hard shoes.  It was a full day affair, exhausting, but totally worth it, even if it meant staying up until 4am writing deep, poetical bullshit for Mr. Rickert's class the next day.  You see all sorts of people you know on St. Patrick's Day in Columbus.  You love them, you hate them, you've barely spoken three words to them--it doesn't matter.  Everyone is family on St. Patrick's Day.

every parade needs a sláinte mobile.

Fast forward to Oberlin and there's no parade, hardly anyone remembers to wear green (or even remembers that it is St. Patrick's Day), maybe there are a few Harkies on the bowl goofing off on a fiddle, but that's about it.  You go to class, you do your homework, and you go to bed just like normal.  A couple of times, I've tried dancing in the dining hall for my fellow co-opers... Not many people ever came, but, you know, even if I don't get everyone in the world to be my family for a day, it's nice knowing that even just those three friends who have papers to write and things to do took the time to walk down the stairs and share ten minutes of the day with me.  I've no idea if they think I'm a lunatic or awesome to have around on St. Patrick's Day, but the fact that they care enough about me to get just as excited as me in a place where it's just like any other day... I don't know, it means a lot.

i just can't get enough of that girls face in the middle!

Jump to Ireland and it's almost like it's both.  Walking around Galway wasn't any less beautiful chaos than wandering around in Vets' Memorial as a kid trying to find your mom, and I wasn't wearing any less corny novelty gear (I was probably wearing more than usual, to be honest).  There was an amazing parade, cute kids, and a little bit of rain to make the day absolutely perfect.  The difference was my environment.  I was in a beautiful place with beautiful people, but most of them strangers.  I spent the day with people I'd met three months ago, one month ago, and some just a few minutes before I sat down.  Oh, and I didn't dance (I didn't see any dancers either..).  Which is the real strange part, because I have never not danced on St. Patrick's Day.  Whether it was on a big stage or in a dark, private corner at the Cat while talented people provide the music, dancing is just something you do.  St. Patrick's Day for me may always be a mostly sober experience (I had a Bulmers but didn't crack open the Druid because I didn't want to get sloppy in front of strangers and two of anything alcoholic is unfamiliar territory), but I really should have danced...

the mob was literally right behind the last part of the parade. madness!

I guess I'm not trying to say that one way is any better than another, just that it's interesting that the same day, two hours north of home and eight-ish hours by plane east of home can be so incredibly different and yet so similar.  I'd like to think that I haven't changed much since my first real St. Patrick's Day with Shanahan, but maybe that's part of the difference, too.  As I make my way in the world, there's always going to be a St. Patrick's Day for me, even if I have to make it myself, but I guess the beauty is that, as I grow up, so will my experiences.  I may no longer the scared little girl lost in a crowd, and I don't think it will ever be as lonely as my freshman year of college either, but friends, family, tradition, culture, and community (and good ol' corny head gear) will follow me everywhere.

Here are some more pictures of the parade:

And just in case you weren't already pictured-out, here's a little look at where I was last weekend:

I'd talk about it a little more, but this entry is already longer than it was meant to be.  Day 10 without Facebook and I'm clearly already dying for some sort of online outlet for all my ~*feelings*~.  Ha ha, well, so it goes, I suppose.  This weekend is study weekend, by the way.  I don't know what I'm going to do when I go back to Oberlin and actually have to do course work.  Cry, that's what.


Have a happy weekend everyone!