be my friend

i still haven’t cleaned up or put away anything from my travels.

sure, the notre dame candles are proudly displayed on my shelf, but that’s more of a “fuck you” to anyone who thinks i’m ashamed for stealing from a church. the coasters from germany, old handouts from irish school, train tickets from paris, hastily scribbled notes about coffeeshops from amsterdam, lighters, class schedules, an iPod with a completely drained battery, maps of freiburg and seville and barcelona, long overdue library books, tiny empty bottles of airplane rum, rolling papers, French phrasebooks, and cell phone recharge cards are covering every inch of my desk while my clean and not-so-clean clothes form a small mountain on my bed and floor. it’s pretty disgusting.

i’ve been back for three days now, and i’m pretty sure it’s a subconcious desire to avoid touching any mementos from my trip that’s keeping me in filth. i’m at a loss as to what to keep and what to toss… it’s an insurmountable task when one thinks of the sheer volume of useless crap i want to keep.

besides the horrifying pack rat tendencies i’ve picked up, this has been a really good three days. alicia’s been having mental breakdowns about her ex, so she’s taking over justin’s place as our 5th roommate and the 31 boys just got back today so jim’s been hanging around here. people talk and hang out and laugh and cry and yell and eat and puke and drink and puke some more and smoke and curse and exude sexual tension and look at each other and know each other and like each other and i like that.

one week left of classes. i had nothing today, but i have one class tomorrow at 4 pm, 2 classes on wednesday, and 3 classes on thursday, and then i’m home-free until my first final exam on may 9th. to anyone who thinks fordham academics are a joke: irish school is like a mitch hedberg comedy central presentation.

i’ve been typing for too long. here’s a picture of me and my greatest love. ta for now.

am home now.

was flying through the damp night clouds, leaving barcelona’s humid rains and hot breezes and bright atmospheres that averaged 80 degrees from the hours of 12-8 pm, trying to breathe evenly through pinched sinuses and incessant, impotent coughs, when the lilting voice of the blonde stewardess crackled over the speakers. “welcome to cork. the local time is 10:50 pm and the temperature is 6 degrees.”

there was a time when the thought of what 6 degrees meant: bone-chilling winds and foggy mornings and horizontal downpours, would make my balls shrivel. but after a month of overeating gelato, that hill doesn’t look so steep, hostels with bars, hostels with kitchens, do you want to get an apartment together, broken tennis shoes, slippery roman museum streets, eat before you get to switzerland, fraser mcbain, the colliseum lights up at night, cheap cigarettes, sorry you’ll have to share your bed with your friend, heart of a baby cow, 18-year old militant canadians with swiss bank accounts, allergies to indian food, you stole candles from god, 1 euro wines, no parlo italiano, hailstorms, sunstorms, sunshowers, no showers, do i stay or do i go, effiel towers, harvest goodness, i know tully too, tapas bar sounds like topless bar, broken legs, bratwurst mitt zweibel, grazie, danke, merci, gracias, xie xie, stained glass windows, orange trees, hammocks, your bag is too big for hand luggage, santa maria, how to save a life, monica lewinsky shots, alphorns, caffe au laits, espresso, caffe lattes, caffe con leches, rafael and christie, sacre coeur at sunset, shalom joints, mermaid girl doesn’t have a birth defect–

yeah, i thought. 6 degrees sounds just about perfect.

I AM SO TIRED!

I LEAVE FOR EUROPE TOMORROW!

ONE MONTH OF STRAIGHT TRAVELLING!

DOES “TRAVELLING” HAVE ONE OR 2 “L”s?!?!?!?!

I AM SO EXCITED TO SEE CINDY AND OLIVIA AND TATIANA!

SHOULD I BRING MY COMFORTER ON THIS TRIP??

WHERE DID ALL MY MONEY GO??!?!

AHH!

catch you all on the flip side.

just got back from dublin, where i celebrated st. paddy’s day. it was great; not even half as drunk as i expected. just very festive and exhausting. i’m leaving for rome on friday, which jump-starts my month-long european backpacking trip, and i think i would 100x more excited if i weren’t so bone-tired. it’s been a hectic last few weeks, which i definitely prefer over the ennui and repetition of february, but it takes its toll on the body.

have been getting along better with everyone; absence really does make the heart grow fonder. even bought regan a small card that describes the etymology of his name. one of my biggest regrets is that the break is coming now, right when everyone started loving each other again and are rediscovering why we decided to go abroad.

alright, running off to bed. maybe this tiredness will improve with 43 hours of sleep. i will post once again before i leave for a month. i promise.

wow, i dropped the ball on this one here. i am just coming off a few weird, slow, fast, cold, rainy, amazing, boring, infuriorating, joyous, travel-rific weeks, so i hope to post more in the coming days.

just some general updates:

have taken many amazing trips to west cork, northern ireland, and scotland but have yet to make the pictures small enough to post on here. expect them soon.

amazing dream last night, in which i accompanied david duchovny to a showing of “the lion king” on broadway. as if that was not entertaining enough, it turns out that dd also brought along his kids, but pushes them out of the way when he hears that christopher walken is attending the same show. he stands up in the audience and yells for christopher to come join us in the freshly-vacated seats, but is ignored. as i am laughing at the crestfallen man, i wake up. best dream ever or best dream ever?

have a midterm in celtic religion and mythology and a final in spoken gaelic, both on thursday. it is time to hit the books hard. thank god they both are sexy things.

class schedule at fordham for next semester is online. i’m excited to choose classes, but am disappointed that they will be mostly comm ones. i just want to keep taking religious studies and never, ever stop. bring it on, god.

expect more from me soon. hold me to it.

just finishing up my third and final essay of the past 5 days. finally. now i can head to belfast with a clear head, heart, and conscience. looking at what i’ve accomplished this last week makes me very proud. and extremely glad that my brain has not rotted thus far. i have to say, however, the process of writing these papers have been exactly what i’d imagined irish school to be: little feifei burning the midnight oil in the basement of the library, lost behind stacks of giant cloth-bound medieval traslations of the vulgate bible, hunched over a magnificent vellum facsimile of insular manuscripts–the book of kells in particular. to capture the essences of these papers furthur, here are my bibliographies.

Heresy and the Control of Dissent:

1. Cameron, Averil. Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991.
2. Chadwick, Henry. The Early Church, London: Penguin Books, 1967.
3. Christie-Murray, David. A History of Heresy, New York: Oxford University Press, 1976.
4. Cwiekowski, Frederick J. The Beginnings of the Church, Gill and Macmillian, 1988.
5. Hillgarth, J.N. Christianity and Paganism, 350-750, Phildelphia: University of Pennsyvannia Press, 1969.
6. Jones, A.H.M. Constantine and the Conversion of Europe, Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
7. Lambert, Malcolm. Medieval Heresy, 3rd ed., Blackwell Publishing, 2002.
8. Lynch, Joseph H. The Medieval Church: A Brief History, London: Longman Group Ltd, 1992.
9. Reff, Daniel T. Plagues, Priests, and Demons, Cambridge University Press, 2005.

The Book of Kells:

1. Backhouse, Janet. The Illuminated Manuscript, [Oxford, 1979].
2. Bruun, Johan Adolf. The Illuminated Manuscripts of the Middle Ages, [Stockholm, MDCCCXCVII].
3. Calkins, Robert G. Illuminated Books of the Middle Ages, [London, 1983].
4. Henry, Francoise. The Book of Kells, [London, 1974].
5. Westwood, J.O. The Art of Illuminated Manuscripts, [New York, 1988].
6. The Holy Bible, King James Version.

Geography and Imagination in Antiquity and the Middle Ages:

1. Barber, Richard, and Anne Riches. A Dictionary of Fabulous Beasts. Ipswich: Boydell Press, 1971.
2. Bildhauer, Bettina, and Robert Mills, eds. The Monstrous Middle Ages. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2003.
3. French, Roger. Ancient Natural History. London: Routledge, 1994.
4. Grant, Robert M. Early Christians and Animals. London: Routledge, 1999.
5. Johnson, Donald S. Phantom Islands of the Atlantic. London: Souvenir Press, 1994.
6. South, Malcolm, ed. Mythical and Fabulous Creatures. New York: Greenwood Press, 1987.

there’s nothing like a good conversation held at 1 o’clock in the morning on your balcony, with the cold air blowing and the city peaceful beneath your feet.

and the other person is apologizing profusely.

still here, still alive.

i used to make fun of liam for being unable to do work, as his reason was that he couldn’t concentrate if he thought other people were having more fun than him. but i suppose karma is a bitch.

i’ve been a little down in the dumps, especially at night. it’s too quiet here, too full of longing, too ripe for anxiety. am i making mistakes? does anyone truly like me as a person? am i who i thought i was? can i pull it together for another 4 months?

i can’t wait for these essays to be done with. i need traveling, new experiences, drinking, bonding, talking, hugging, laughing, crying. i need distractions from the monkeymind that is plaguing me. anything would be better than listening to my own thoughts for hours on end.

i have realized that i love the rain. it makes the streets slick, the sky dark, and the air tangible. does anyone else wish that air offered more resistance and texture than it currently does? maybe it’s just me.

my 14 year old brother wants to attend Columbia University’s “Summer in the City-High School Program,” which makes me feel an odd mixture of envy, sadness, and pride. i’m envious because i didn’t have an older sibling to push and prod me toward enrichment programs and traveling away from home. i’m sad because i feel like i should be doing more; having my life in order so i can provide anything he needs, whether it’s a definite place to stay for the summer or the answers to all of life’s questions. and of course, i’m filled with pride that the kid is only 14, has had a steady gf for 6 months, has above a 4.0 gpa at his selective high school, and can hold a conversation with my friends. like i told rudy, he’s smarter than i am, but not smarter. yet. i’ll forgive him when he buys me a house in the hamptons and rids the universe of black holes.

my throat is still hurting me. i’m not sure what to do. i tend to exaggerate many things, but i’m not kidding when i say that it feels like i’m swallowing a matching set of beautifully crafted, emerald-encrusted elvish daggers every few seconds. those lozenges only lasted 2 days and i think they make my kidneys hurt when i mix them with a little bit of cheap vodka, but i should probably buy some more.

speed dating tomorrow, as well as a phone call to set up a date with barra cogan, one of the older homestay brothers. how do i tell him about my inappropriate thoughts about his youngest brother, séamus?

days in which i purposefully skip all my classes, sit in front of the TV, and (maybe) shower remind me of 2nd semester senior year of high school. everyone knew that more than 30 unexcused absences carried the threat of not walking at graduation, but i was the only one who had the balls and laziness to test it. but i think this “apathetic couch potato” persona might be dying soon. its been getting old-the only thing on the TV at 4 pm is “avatar” in gaelic.

today, i finally got up and registered with the irish police; i am now an official 8-month-long immigrant. then, i went and bought numbing lozenges for my throat, which has been literally on fire for 3-4 days. that just tells you how lazy i have been, that i would rather sit around for days with a throat on fire than walk half a block and buy €4 worth of medicine. now i can sit here and pop these things like candy. they warn against taking more than 4 every 24 hours, but i’m a big girl; i can handle it.

as i was walking around today, i went by the dark and silent cork synagogue. i’ve passed it before, and wondered at the incongruity of an irish building with a star of david on it. i’ve been feeling a little lost in the day-in-day-out aspects of life, so i would have very much enjoyed going to a friday service every now and then. however, when i looked into it, i found out that the synagogue (Cork Hebrew Congregation) has been closed for almost 10 years. from an Irish Times article dated feb 17th, 1998:

it really is sad. maybe that’s why i feel dead inside.

but on second thought, that’s probably the numbing effects of the lozenges.

traveling does amazing things to my outlook on life. as much as i like the people i hang out with and the places we go after dark, there’s a point when i realize that this is not what i came to europe for. granted, i’ve been having a good time - and boys, drinking, and the nightlife are an inextricable part of it - but i had started losing sight of my goals and expectations of the trip. so i made a conscious effort to get out of cork city this weekend. plus, 3 straight days of irish sunshine - how can you say no?

cobh - harbor town, reminescent of a mini-san fransisco

kinsale - fishing village where our friend cameron was playing rugby today

i might die in ireland. thanks.

This week at UCC is Rag week (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rag_week), the highlight of the year for many student clubs and societies in the UK and Ireland. Wikipedia describes the event as a week ”in which students would take part in many events (and often perform crazy stunts) to raise money for charity,” and I have it on good authority that school this week will be less of a classroom venture, and more of a drinking-in-many-bars-all-night-all-week-for-charity.

I mean, I gotta do it if it’s for charity.

… and i’ve been drinkin alone. so what does that make me?

i’m kidding, i haven’t been drinking alone. but that kevin devine sure knows how to set one’s thoughts afire. in fact, i’ve been way too busy being extremely popular (as always) to even be online and keep up with everyone. currently, i’m trying to put some videos on youtube so people who read this thing (let’s face it: only the coolest read this blog) can see a small bit of what i’ve been up to. let’s see if i can summon the brain power to describe the events of the past few nights.

thursday: went to a… theatre show? yeah, that was the night. the play was called “tom crean: antartic explorer,” which translated into a delightful one-man show about an irish explorer who unsuccessfully tries 3 times to reach the south pole and encounters the full extent of human trial and tribulation. afterwards, we went out to a few pubs (where i made friends with a cute irish manboy named shane who had the greatest sideburns, or “locks” as he called them. he also invited me to his house the next day but i didn’t know how to take that so i ran away.) on our way to an brog (a club/bar), we were serenaded for close to an hour by a friendly british street performer named patrick. i have some videos for you, if youtube will work.

friday: i don’t remember. i was fucked up, is all i know. no wait! we went to qube, an irish club, which is almost the same as an american club. only with european guys. of whom i’ve decided to be wary. tequila shots + eurotrash = wariness. lesson to be learned for all of you.

saturday: went and had jackie’s lennox’s fish and chips. amazing, amazing food. i had many, many heart attacks as i ate around 3 pounds of fried fish and 65 potatoes. (you may be hearing more about lennox’s in a future cafe abroad article, hint hint) afterwards, the group moved to the gallows pub, where we watched as the munster rugby team dominated whoever the black-and-yellow striped team was. a few hours later, i get a text from my new friend laure, who invites me to a party (methinks a girly wine and cheese party or something french like that). turns out, it’s a rave in an underground parking garage.

it was a lovely weekend, just lovely.

leaving you with a video from my homestay from a lengthy 1 week ago. i love them.

at 8:30 this morning, the alarm goes off. it’s a small device, battery-powered and shaped like a calculator. but it sure is fucking loud. as the shrill “beep beep beep” echo around the chilly, sleepy room, i start glaring even before i open my eyes and tap at a small button on the clock. which button was it? i have no idea but it does the job and shuts the alarm off.

i glance at the long window directly above my bed: still dark outside. “oh god. that better not be a rainstorm,” i think to myself, slowly, drowsily. shutting my eyes again, i feign sleep until the ignored alarm clock starts to beep again after 5 minutes. i had hit the snooze button! annoyed, i tap at a button again, killing the beep in mid- well, beeping.

i turn over, feeling the weight and warmth of the comforter as it re-settles. i sigh and let my eyes close. 30 seconds later, i realize that i have a class at 10 am and it’s a 3 mile walk to school. i rip myself out of bed, sick from the all-grease diet i’ve had for about 2 weeks and hungover as hell. i sit, shivering, wondering why in god’s name i didn’t turn on the radiator last night. struggling into yesterday’s clothes, i stifle a yawn.

a quick trip to the bathroom leaves me in shock at my own reflection. i am asian? after associating with a select brand of caucasian for so many days, i have forgotten that people can have squinty eyes and an all-sexy countenance. i grin blearily at myself, practicing my considerable pick-up charms. i only disgust myself further.

stumbling into the living room/kitchen, i fall onto the couch, knocking all the cups and plates off the coffee table. my flatmate, as blonde and perky as ever, is attracted to the sound of broken chinaware and misery. she hops in, already fully dressed and takes in the sight of me, facedown on the couch while milk and vodka seep into the tiles of the floor. she shakes her head and offers no sympathy.

i force a leftover half of a grilled cheese in my mouth and grab my schoolbag, thankfully, drunkenly packed last night. after informing aubrey that, yes, we have the same class right now, don’t you remember that i tell you this every day, we run out the door at a neat 9:07 am.

we have a quick detour in which we attempt to rouse regan and drew, 2 frat boys that live down the hall from us, who were both sleeping peacefully with their blankets askew and a strong wind forcing its way past their tightly drawn curtains. we only mean to wake drew, but as we come in, regan is the one who wakes up and groggily asks whether this is a party. drew, a short boy with close cropped hair, peeks behind the curtain and shudders, declaring that there is no way in hell he was going to class. a few minutes of hissing argument ensue between him and aubrey, who have recently started touching each other. it was awkward.

we abandon our futile attempt to encourage drew to go to class and take the lift down to the ground floor. as we’re walking out, we see our good friend kevin running back to the building, raindrops flying off of his windbreaker and enveloping him in a mist. he smiles and comes to a halt inside the glass double doors, warning us against going outside. “i got literally 50 yards down the block,” he cries, “and i got to the opening in between that warehouse and the quay, when my hat blew off and i got ravaged by the rain and shit that came at me sideways!” aubrey and i look at each other warily, not wanting to be the one that chickens out. she goes out the door and i follow close behind.

3 seconds later, we run inside, screaming and sluicing water off our eyelashes. kevin, standing by the elevator, laughs. we follow him meekly up to the fourth floor and discuss a game of cards, along with how we’re all going to fail irish school.

the end.

http://bebo.com/watch/2564577277 

my favorite cogan brother, back when he had long hair. entertaining enough to keep a body up until 4 am watching it? i think yes.

quote of the night:

“i’m guy thirsty.” - aubrey, my flatmate

i am extremely homesick right now. homesick in a way that makes me cold and empty deep in my bowels… and i haven’t even been away from home for a full hour.

to back up a bit, half of the students in my study abroad program (about 17 of us) had homestay weekends with families in carrigaline, about 7 miles outside of cork city. the other half will go next weekend. i was paired with annie killien (very nice and ridiculous) and put into the cogan residence on church hill.

and i cant even descibe how amazing this family and my weekend has been.

i have always wanted a big family-they’re full of life, you know: the fighting, the conversations, the yelling, the laughter… all of that is wonderful, when placed on a scale beside my tiny, silent, nuclear family. this family was all of that and more.

firstly, they had ten children (diarmuid, nora, fionan, barra, eamonn, mara, martin, aisling, seamus, and siobhan), who were ranged in age from 39 to 22, and bounced in and out the house around every mealtime, sometimes staying for a plate of mash and ham, sometimes simply dropping off 3 or 4 or 5 more siblings/family friends. the house was bursting at the seams, full of people and noise and enough stuff for well, a family of 12 over 40 years. papa cogan was a big-time politician, who was in the irish parliament for almost 30 years and now runs irish cultural organizations across the world.

on friday night, a small family gathering (only papa and mama cogan, me and annie, seamus, mara, barra, siobhan, and eamonn were at dinner) turned into an adorable dance recital as fionan, his wife, and their two-year-old daughter caitriona came by after dessert. that baby can dance.

on saturday, our host family had their first Céilí Mór of the 2008 year. it was beyond words. short description: Gaelic Athletic Association pavilion (aka, a big gym), an irish folk band, 300 people, and set/step dancing from 9:30 pm-2:00 am. it was AMAAAAAAAAZING. after getting back to the house at 2:30 am, us and the kids were up until 4 am talking/mocking one another, and then annie and i were up another hour discussing how much we were in love with the family.

then, at the crack of dawn (8:30 am), they dragged us out of bed for their beloved all-gaelic mass. and yes, it was all in gaelic. i literally could not feel my legs until the afternoon, but of course, i was game for a gaelic mass. then at the breakfast table following church, the band from the Céilí (who also stayed at the cogan house) entertained us with an impromptu concert, complete with 2 flute, 1 tin whistle, 1 piano, and 1 fiddle, while the youngest member banged drumsticks against the table.

after a quick tour of aisling(the 8th child)’s new house (a 2 minute walk from the cogan main house), we had a quick lunch with eamonn and seamus (annie and my favorites, respectively), and got loaded onto the coach to come back home.

oh man. so, i was typing this all up at 5 pm, when we all got back to our apartments in cork city, when annie banged down my door and needed to keep talking about this weekend. then, after an hour of raving and a bit of weeping, we decided that a pub run was needed to keep our sanities. let me tell you, chugging beamish after 3 hours of sleep really does a person in.

so, there you have it, my homestay weekend. i miss them all terribly, and cannot wait to go back to carrigaline for their next Céilí, which will be on February 9th.

who’s coming along?

 carrigaline.

 annie at breakfast.

 me looking stupid.

 caitriona, siobhan, and seamus (so adorable).

 Céilí

 Céilí, looking retarded again.

more pictures to come.

who just got a job as a travel journalist for cafeabroad.com?! me, that’s who.

spread the word around: i am the shit.

so i’m sitting here in irish school-it’s brilliant. i’ve had three classes today, “Pilgrims and Crusaders,” “Heresy and the Control of Dissent,” and “From Pagans to Christians.” i also had time to explore the library, picking up “The Hounds of Morrigan,” a quintissentially irish children’s book set in nearby galway city. sitting here with that book securly tucked into my bag, an irish professor droning on about constantine and the conversion of europe, and gale-force winds tossing debris and trees outside, i feel at home.

 thank god this class is over; i need a pint.