Greetings,
I arrived home safe and sound, albeit exhausted and exhilarated at the end of July. Being gone meant I had no idea how quickly the family calendar filled up with 'stuff' to do. About a half day off to rest up then appointments and soccer tournaments...and of course, the annual family remote camping vacation with no cell or computer service. This is the first year that our electronic-free trip wasn't so appealing. :-)
I've viewed all my photographs again, added to another journal - and still there is much swirling in my head about my learning adventure. I'm wrapping up some initial paperwork for the Fund for Teacher's requirements, and look forward to September when I get to meet all those who made this journey possible.
And, this week I began adding exciting new lesson elements to my teaching and enhancing many more, from my new learning and the fresh perspective I'm experiencing. School starts in just two weeks - oh, yeah!
Thanks to Amy, Jen, Kerry, Judy, Maeve, Kelly, and other travel buddies who added to my fun. Thanks to Olcan, Connie, Dotty, Aggie, Maureen, Sue, Jeannie, Joan, and Shari for sharing our visitor experience. I will always think of my photo group when I think of Ireland. And, thanks to all the others who wrote comments, e-mails and provided some 'home' support. It felt great to travel independently and yet never really feel alone.
Slainte...for a final time!
Lori :-)
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Homeward bound...
Good morning!
Within a few hours, I'll be over the green fields of Ireland then the Atlantic Ocean heading toward home. While I will miss some of the people I've met, I will carry so much with me to keep me connected to this very special place and these incredible people.
Once home and settled, I'll will post a final entry and upload the many photos you all have missed.
As the Irish say farewell "Safe home" until next time...
Lori :-)
PS - The soccer match was less exciting than a high school match in Maine, with a final score of 0-0. Seems all the die-hard sports fans took the train to the big hurling game with Cork City. Figures... :-)
Within a few hours, I'll be over the green fields of Ireland then the Atlantic Ocean heading toward home. While I will miss some of the people I've met, I will carry so much with me to keep me connected to this very special place and these incredible people.
Once home and settled, I'll will post a final entry and upload the many photos you all have missed.
As the Irish say farewell "Safe home" until next time...
Lori :-)
PS - The soccer match was less exciting than a high school match in Maine, with a final score of 0-0. Seems all the die-hard sports fans took the train to the big hurling game with Cork City. Figures... :-)
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Not my typical weekend...
Cead Mile Failte!
Decided to explore the offerings surrounding the Fota train station, and I was not disappointed on Friday. After a bit of a walk, I was rewarded with the Fota House and Gardens. This property boasts 27 hectares/11 acres of absolutely stunning trees and plants from around the world. I spent more than two hours in one area, and only after a wrong turn did I truly find the jewels of this place. Magnolia trees as a backdrop with high stone walls and low shrubs acted as fencing for the eight feet deep rows of varied colorful flowers. They have a Victorian fernery, a 'to die for' Italian garden complete with lily pond, statues and gazebo. They have a special 'pleasure garden' filled with wonderfully scented flowers, and the largest rose garden I have ever seen. (Larger than a soccer field)
It had the welcoming feel of a public park treasured by many, like the dozens of toddlers and their moms having a lovely time picnicking and chatting. Watching, I saw that children are the same most everywhere. There was the one who wanted to play 'mom, dad, baby and honey'. Another tossing pebbles in the air, looking up to see how high they went when, of course, one fell back and bounced off her tiny nose. And my favorite, the one shaking the rose stem to get the prettiest petals to fall off. Her mom had to re-explain that she could only collect those that fell off by themselves and were already on the ground. Naturally, those weren't as pretty - and then came the tears when the realization hit that she was hurting the pretty flowers.
It is not surprising at the number of bridal parties that want their wedding photos taken in the gardens. It can be requested at no charge, but some rules do apply. :-)
Saturday, with so many arriving tourists about, was tough to find a bus for a day trip so I simply hung around town people watching, reading, and writing a bit. Even spoke to many of my extended family who were celebrating a reunion, with me in their thoughts and mine on them.
Sunday morning, while the night owls slept, I caught an early bus to Kinsale. A small village at the tip of a peninsula. It seems a combination of one part working waterfront, one part upscale tourist hub for those with yachts, and one part quaint homey feel village.
In a popular locals restaurant, Vista, I had a delicious breakfast of soft scrambled eggs on toasted brioche bread with smoked salmon and chives nude. I believe it was the toast that was nude. Well worth the wait!
Just prior, I discovered a unique artists gallery displaying and selling hand-fused glass pieces and jewelry. It is a sort of co-op for seven local Irish artisans. As a token of this trip, I purchased an absolutely stunning carafe with gold-fused design of leaves and a dragonfly on the topper. I am quite hopeful I can get it home as lovely as it is now, as I know exactly where it will be displayed. Upside of a small home is that it forces one to always consider this detail prior to a purchase. :-)
As this trips winds down...Slainte!
PS - Looking forward to the big soccer game this evening between Cork City and St. Patricks'
Decided to explore the offerings surrounding the Fota train station, and I was not disappointed on Friday. After a bit of a walk, I was rewarded with the Fota House and Gardens. This property boasts 27 hectares/11 acres of absolutely stunning trees and plants from around the world. I spent more than two hours in one area, and only after a wrong turn did I truly find the jewels of this place. Magnolia trees as a backdrop with high stone walls and low shrubs acted as fencing for the eight feet deep rows of varied colorful flowers. They have a Victorian fernery, a 'to die for' Italian garden complete with lily pond, statues and gazebo. They have a special 'pleasure garden' filled with wonderfully scented flowers, and the largest rose garden I have ever seen. (Larger than a soccer field)
It had the welcoming feel of a public park treasured by many, like the dozens of toddlers and their moms having a lovely time picnicking and chatting. Watching, I saw that children are the same most everywhere. There was the one who wanted to play 'mom, dad, baby and honey'. Another tossing pebbles in the air, looking up to see how high they went when, of course, one fell back and bounced off her tiny nose. And my favorite, the one shaking the rose stem to get the prettiest petals to fall off. Her mom had to re-explain that she could only collect those that fell off by themselves and were already on the ground. Naturally, those weren't as pretty - and then came the tears when the realization hit that she was hurting the pretty flowers.
It is not surprising at the number of bridal parties that want their wedding photos taken in the gardens. It can be requested at no charge, but some rules do apply. :-)
Saturday, with so many arriving tourists about, was tough to find a bus for a day trip so I simply hung around town people watching, reading, and writing a bit. Even spoke to many of my extended family who were celebrating a reunion, with me in their thoughts and mine on them.
Sunday morning, while the night owls slept, I caught an early bus to Kinsale. A small village at the tip of a peninsula. It seems a combination of one part working waterfront, one part upscale tourist hub for those with yachts, and one part quaint homey feel village.
In a popular locals restaurant, Vista, I had a delicious breakfast of soft scrambled eggs on toasted brioche bread with smoked salmon and chives nude. I believe it was the toast that was nude. Well worth the wait!
Just prior, I discovered a unique artists gallery displaying and selling hand-fused glass pieces and jewelry. It is a sort of co-op for seven local Irish artisans. As a token of this trip, I purchased an absolutely stunning carafe with gold-fused design of leaves and a dragonfly on the topper. I am quite hopeful I can get it home as lovely as it is now, as I know exactly where it will be displayed. Upside of a small home is that it forces one to always consider this detail prior to a purchase. :-)
As this trips winds down...Slainte!
PS - Looking forward to the big soccer game this evening between Cork City and St. Patricks'
Friday, July 25, 2008
County Cork
Greetings, again!
My last photo, taken from a moving bus on Wednesday, of Dingle Town was of Ballintaggert Hostel. It is a huge brick old-style manor house used by the Protestants during the famine. They served as a soup kitchen for those hungry enough to renounce their Catholic religion - for some, it even meant changing their family name.
Passed a lovely "luxury accomodations" castle somewhere between Dingle and Cork that would be the dream of my daughter, I'm sure. Probably Maggie, too!
And, I landed in County Cork on Wednesday. A day trip to Cork city was nice - a mini Dublin with nowhere near the chaos. Though they do take their shopping very serious here. It seemed the city is in a growth spurt, with sky cranes and construction going on all around. I spent as much time looking up to see what might be hovering over me as I did looking forward. It, too, is a river city - the River Lee divides it in half. Bridges, bridges everywhere - always one to cross.
Sadly, there was an accident involving a pedestrian and I found it fascinating how they used 6-7 motorcycle Garda to escort the ambulance and ride ahead to stop traffic.
Cobh, a small town with a huge history, was a great day trip on Thursday. Cobh, pronounced Cove and formerly known as Queenstown, was the last Irish soil for half of the 6 million who emigrated to the US, Canada, and Australia since 1815. It was a major port city in the 19th century, and today still has a strong working harbor. Emigrated is putting it nicely, since many bound for Australia were convicts sent away as punishment.
First, I wandered up, way up, the hills in search of the building housing very soothing bells that seemed to chime every half hour or so. I found that they were the Carillon of 49 bells housed in St. Carillon Cathedral. This incredibly beautiful (architecturally) cathedral was planned over a ten year period, not long after the Great Famine. Construction lasted another ten years.
Of course, having walked so high, I was rewarded with some spectacular views of the harbor, backsides of the townhouses (not at all colorful like the fronts) and rooftops and porches of those who live there. My favorite photo is of plants and weeds growing up from eight clay pots. Actually, they were the clay stacks of the chimney liners. Priceless, really.
I had planned to upload photos today, but this internet place had a complete network virus issue and I don't want to risk losing all my irreplaceable photos, so I'll just have to wait a bit longer.
I had a delicious picnic lunch in Kennedy Park, while thoroughly enjoying a live performance by some European exchange students learning traditional Irish music, and then the Gruppo Follorico "La Pistacoppi" playing and dancing traditional Italian music with a storyline base. Dressed in vibrant, stylish printed vests and frocks, high socks and kerchief hats, with hand-decorated instruments they laughed and sang and shared. It was a colorful wonder that attracted many into the park to stop and simply enjoy.
Cobh was also the last port of call for the fated maiden voyage of the Titanic, and was the port that many survivors of the Lusitania reached after being plucked from the waters, and welcomed the USS Jamestown in 1847 to receive food donated by the people of Boston, USA for the famine-stricken people of Munster (Ireland).
Ireland experienced a 'chain-migration' where many emigrants were assisted to leave by family or friends who had already left and sent back money. Between 1848 and 1900, over £46,000 (today's value of $234,000,000) was sent to Ireland as remittances from emigrants in North America. One of those families belonged to Annie Moore. Both her parents and older brothers left for America first and sent back money so she could bring her younger brothers over. She left Cobh in 1891 and she was the first person to be admitted to the USA through the immigration center at Ellis Island in New York. For this, she was presented with a $10 gold piece.
Until next time...Slainte!
My last photo, taken from a moving bus on Wednesday, of Dingle Town was of Ballintaggert Hostel. It is a huge brick old-style manor house used by the Protestants during the famine. They served as a soup kitchen for those hungry enough to renounce their Catholic religion - for some, it even meant changing their family name.
Passed a lovely "luxury accomodations" castle somewhere between Dingle and Cork that would be the dream of my daughter, I'm sure. Probably Maggie, too!
And, I landed in County Cork on Wednesday. A day trip to Cork city was nice - a mini Dublin with nowhere near the chaos. Though they do take their shopping very serious here. It seemed the city is in a growth spurt, with sky cranes and construction going on all around. I spent as much time looking up to see what might be hovering over me as I did looking forward. It, too, is a river city - the River Lee divides it in half. Bridges, bridges everywhere - always one to cross.
Sadly, there was an accident involving a pedestrian and I found it fascinating how they used 6-7 motorcycle Garda to escort the ambulance and ride ahead to stop traffic.
Cobh, a small town with a huge history, was a great day trip on Thursday. Cobh, pronounced Cove and formerly known as Queenstown, was the last Irish soil for half of the 6 million who emigrated to the US, Canada, and Australia since 1815. It was a major port city in the 19th century, and today still has a strong working harbor. Emigrated is putting it nicely, since many bound for Australia were convicts sent away as punishment.
First, I wandered up, way up, the hills in search of the building housing very soothing bells that seemed to chime every half hour or so. I found that they were the Carillon of 49 bells housed in St. Carillon Cathedral. This incredibly beautiful (architecturally) cathedral was planned over a ten year period, not long after the Great Famine. Construction lasted another ten years.
Of course, having walked so high, I was rewarded with some spectacular views of the harbor, backsides of the townhouses (not at all colorful like the fronts) and rooftops and porches of those who live there. My favorite photo is of plants and weeds growing up from eight clay pots. Actually, they were the clay stacks of the chimney liners. Priceless, really.
I had planned to upload photos today, but this internet place had a complete network virus issue and I don't want to risk losing all my irreplaceable photos, so I'll just have to wait a bit longer.
I had a delicious picnic lunch in Kennedy Park, while thoroughly enjoying a live performance by some European exchange students learning traditional Irish music, and then the Gruppo Follorico "La Pistacoppi" playing and dancing traditional Italian music with a storyline base. Dressed in vibrant, stylish printed vests and frocks, high socks and kerchief hats, with hand-decorated instruments they laughed and sang and shared. It was a colorful wonder that attracted many into the park to stop and simply enjoy.
Cobh was also the last port of call for the fated maiden voyage of the Titanic, and was the port that many survivors of the Lusitania reached after being plucked from the waters, and welcomed the USS Jamestown in 1847 to receive food donated by the people of Boston, USA for the famine-stricken people of Munster (Ireland).
Ireland experienced a 'chain-migration' where many emigrants were assisted to leave by family or friends who had already left and sent back money. Between 1848 and 1900, over £46,000 (today's value of $234,000,000) was sent to Ireland as remittances from emigrants in North America. One of those families belonged to Annie Moore. Both her parents and older brothers left for America first and sent back money so she could bring her younger brothers over. She left Cobh in 1891 and she was the first person to be admitted to the USA through the immigration center at Ellis Island in New York. For this, she was presented with a $10 gold piece.
Until next time...Slainte!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Dingle, anyone?
Hi, all!
It's been a couple of days...but I haven't been slacking. When my photography friends went home I was busy exploring both the Lisdoonvarna and Doolin areas. I was able to take a ferry out to the Cliffs of Moher because I really wanted a more unique photographical perspective. I got that and then some...talk about waves rocking the boat. I was one of the very lucky few who didn't become violently sick...and I was also one of the few whose camera stayed safe and dry even among the waves that soaked me from waist to toes.
From there, I headed south and landed in Dingle town. It was a tourist paradise; since I preferred being a visitor to that of a tourist, I only stayed long enough to take an archeological semi-private tour of Dingle Peninsula with Dennis.
Our first stop was visiting the beautiful estate once owned by Lord Ventry, and there we saw a group of Ogham stones and learn about the earliest form of Celtic writing dating from the 4th century. It was fascinating how this rich and powerful man could simply steal valuable religious stones and place them at the entry to estate. There are other Ogham stones still around the peninsula, and his moving them might have protected them a bit more than if they had remained where they were. He also imported what we refer to as Palm Trees, from New Zealand and they seem to be flourishing all these years later even though Ireland is anything but tropical. Go figure! :-)
Passing the beautiful Ventry beach, we made our way to the site known as ‘Dun Beag’. The Gaelic words, which mean ‘small fort’, refer to a defensive structure dating from approximately 500 BC. It was really interesting how anyone who owned anything of value needed this type of structure to keep others from stealing their property, including their animals. So, the outer ring was used to place the valuables while the inner fort ring served as the home.
We drove on through stunning ocean views till we cross a ford, which crashes down the mountain, and across the road into the sea far below. Locals call it the upside-down bridge because the water crosses over the bridge instead of beneath it. How cool, right?!
Had a spectacular sunny day to see two of the Skellig Islands and the Blasket Islands. I would love to meet the one woman who still resides on the island. Imagine, to be so isolated but content enough with your life that you enjoy your own company. She is a weaver who receives much of her wool from local farmers and she is able to sell her wares and offer small group eco-tours to sustain herself. My new hero!
We finished our tour with a short visit to Gallurus Oratory. Dennis was really great but he wasn't Olcan; I'm guessing no one ever will be.
That's it for now...until I post again, "Slainte!"
It's been a couple of days...but I haven't been slacking. When my photography friends went home I was busy exploring both the Lisdoonvarna and Doolin areas. I was able to take a ferry out to the Cliffs of Moher because I really wanted a more unique photographical perspective. I got that and then some...talk about waves rocking the boat. I was one of the very lucky few who didn't become violently sick...and I was also one of the few whose camera stayed safe and dry even among the waves that soaked me from waist to toes.
From there, I headed south and landed in Dingle town. It was a tourist paradise; since I preferred being a visitor to that of a tourist, I only stayed long enough to take an archeological semi-private tour of Dingle Peninsula with Dennis.
Our first stop was visiting the beautiful estate once owned by Lord Ventry, and there we saw a group of Ogham stones and learn about the earliest form of Celtic writing dating from the 4th century. It was fascinating how this rich and powerful man could simply steal valuable religious stones and place them at the entry to estate. There are other Ogham stones still around the peninsula, and his moving them might have protected them a bit more than if they had remained where they were. He also imported what we refer to as Palm Trees, from New Zealand and they seem to be flourishing all these years later even though Ireland is anything but tropical. Go figure! :-)
Passing the beautiful Ventry beach, we made our way to the site known as ‘Dun Beag’. The Gaelic words, which mean ‘small fort’, refer to a defensive structure dating from approximately 500 BC. It was really interesting how anyone who owned anything of value needed this type of structure to keep others from stealing their property, including their animals. So, the outer ring was used to place the valuables while the inner fort ring served as the home.
We drove on through stunning ocean views till we cross a ford, which crashes down the mountain, and across the road into the sea far below. Locals call it the upside-down bridge because the water crosses over the bridge instead of beneath it. How cool, right?!
Had a spectacular sunny day to see two of the Skellig Islands and the Blasket Islands. I would love to meet the one woman who still resides on the island. Imagine, to be so isolated but content enough with your life that you enjoy your own company. She is a weaver who receives much of her wool from local farmers and she is able to sell her wares and offer small group eco-tours to sustain herself. My new hero!
We finished our tour with a short visit to Gallurus Oratory. Dennis was really great but he wasn't Olcan; I'm guessing no one ever will be.
That's it for now...until I post again, "Slainte!"
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Tuesday to Sunday...
Cead Mile Failte!
Tuesday, we journeyed to Burrishoole Abbey. Near the road's entrance, there is a stone wall creating a closed circle with three huge trees. This is the burial site for famine children who had not been baptized, a large grave site with no markers now on private land. We walked down the abbey road at our own pace -with Connie, Dotty and I sharing a moment with three local cows (I mean cattle). It felt a bit like a stand off to see who would move last. The cattle won. :-)
Burrishoole Abbey was built in 1469. It is on the land's edge where the quay and ocean converge. It is believed that cows will lie down on patches where water runs in the earth beneath them. Farmers not too long ago would carry a slice of bread of something in a pocket in case they suddenly experiences Faire Gortha (Great Hunger). Some believe it is the convergence of water under ground, and I believe it could also be related to where a famine victim collapsed or was placed on the ground by those carrying them when they had to switch sides. It is a sudden strong need for food that can't be appeased by a fruit or sweets (at least it wasn't for me).
On Wednesday, we journeyed to Achill Island exploring another of Granuaille's castles, more famine houses, and cemetery where the sheep have adapted to walking on the rock walls or leaping up onto them to get over them. They seemed much more hesitant to jump down than they did to jump up. One came within the width of a gravesite distance for the grass growing beneath me. Walking back, I met Louisa, an adorable white terrier who posed for me and shared her collar tag that read: "When I grow up, I want to be a Rotweiller."
The afternoon was spent walking Keel Beach, a blue flag beach, where swimmers donned wet suits and took to the frigid waters. One man wore only a brief - we shivered and couldn't watch. As we were leaving, Sue and I met a young couple who had come on their honeymoon from Leichester the first time, and returned now with three small children.
Thursday, we visited the Craggan. The vast bog lands on the way are so different that the sheep won't even graze there. That is indeed a sign, as the animals here seem pretty smart. We enjoyed a late lunch at Neville's Pub. I had my first of Irish beef, and it was so tasty. I could really taste the freshness.
My favorite day was Friday, when we took the ferry to Clare Island. We were transported up the three miles to the lighthouse. Carefully, on hands and knees, I crawled to the edge and photographed downward. I was so high up that it was disorienting at first - and then I realized just how high up I was: 350 feet to the rocky shoreline below me. Crawling backward and walking up steeper, I looked back to find that the overhang we had been on was solid, yet eroded in spots. The winds there made it impossible (or foolhardy) to walk up to the edge. What a rush, and more scary after - when I realized just how high up it was. We meandered in the sporadic mist and drizzle (no fogging up the lens necessary), the three miles back downward toward the dock - stopping along the way to visit with a weaver in her shop, shared crackers with a knitter, and enjoyed our packed lunch in the cozy cottage of Shari & Olcan.
The island is not really a tourist destination for most, instead, it is a working village where its residents rely on good old fashioned hard work and ingenuity to get by. The local school serves 21+ children, and secondary students must live in the mainland homes of other family during the week and only go home on weekends and holidays.
My last day with my photography group and photo caddy, Saturday, we stopped in Kinvarra, a small fishing village with a castle. We were given the challenge to only take 10 photographs. At first, it was tough, but with a bit of focus I found I was better at capturing better, more meaningful images. Thanks, Connie!
We lunched in Ballyvaughan, where thatch cottages are more common and for rent, and walked about making our way back to a meeting spot. Along the way, we had the great fortune to stumble upon a painting landscape competition with artists who were very willing (the two I spoke with) to share their work and their thoughts. Our final time was spent in and around The Burren. It is so beautiful, and so barren at the same time that it is amazing how much life it sustains. It is much like a granite dessert. We not only saw a variety of wild flowers, but also wild donkeys and farm cattle. At one time, farmers were asked to reduce the size of their herd by half (paid to do it) because the thoughts were that the cattle grazing was harming the wild flowers and such. Recently, botanists who've studied the impact agreed that the reduction was actually harming the landscape because of the reduced manure.
After hugs and wished for a safe journey, I parted from my photography group yesterday and had my first late dinner with no soup. I couldn't bear to not have Olcan serve Maureen's...it was the best! Instead I had Irish stew (poor lamb) was so yummy and filling - and the music of Ceolan made it so much less like I was alone.
As my photo friends made their way home, back to America, today - I photographed the Doolin Village and then...(to be continued)
Slainte (correct spelling!)
Tuesday, we journeyed to Burrishoole Abbey. Near the road's entrance, there is a stone wall creating a closed circle with three huge trees. This is the burial site for famine children who had not been baptized, a large grave site with no markers now on private land. We walked down the abbey road at our own pace -with Connie, Dotty and I sharing a moment with three local cows (I mean cattle). It felt a bit like a stand off to see who would move last. The cattle won. :-)
Burrishoole Abbey was built in 1469. It is on the land's edge where the quay and ocean converge. It is believed that cows will lie down on patches where water runs in the earth beneath them. Farmers not too long ago would carry a slice of bread of something in a pocket in case they suddenly experiences Faire Gortha (Great Hunger). Some believe it is the convergence of water under ground, and I believe it could also be related to where a famine victim collapsed or was placed on the ground by those carrying them when they had to switch sides. It is a sudden strong need for food that can't be appeased by a fruit or sweets (at least it wasn't for me).
On Wednesday, we journeyed to Achill Island exploring another of Granuaille's castles, more famine houses, and cemetery where the sheep have adapted to walking on the rock walls or leaping up onto them to get over them. They seemed much more hesitant to jump down than they did to jump up. One came within the width of a gravesite distance for the grass growing beneath me. Walking back, I met Louisa, an adorable white terrier who posed for me and shared her collar tag that read: "When I grow up, I want to be a Rotweiller."
The afternoon was spent walking Keel Beach, a blue flag beach, where swimmers donned wet suits and took to the frigid waters. One man wore only a brief - we shivered and couldn't watch. As we were leaving, Sue and I met a young couple who had come on their honeymoon from Leichester the first time, and returned now with three small children.
Thursday, we visited the Craggan. The vast bog lands on the way are so different that the sheep won't even graze there. That is indeed a sign, as the animals here seem pretty smart. We enjoyed a late lunch at Neville's Pub. I had my first of Irish beef, and it was so tasty. I could really taste the freshness.
My favorite day was Friday, when we took the ferry to Clare Island. We were transported up the three miles to the lighthouse. Carefully, on hands and knees, I crawled to the edge and photographed downward. I was so high up that it was disorienting at first - and then I realized just how high up I was: 350 feet to the rocky shoreline below me. Crawling backward and walking up steeper, I looked back to find that the overhang we had been on was solid, yet eroded in spots. The winds there made it impossible (or foolhardy) to walk up to the edge. What a rush, and more scary after - when I realized just how high up it was. We meandered in the sporadic mist and drizzle (no fogging up the lens necessary), the three miles back downward toward the dock - stopping along the way to visit with a weaver in her shop, shared crackers with a knitter, and enjoyed our packed lunch in the cozy cottage of Shari & Olcan.
The island is not really a tourist destination for most, instead, it is a working village where its residents rely on good old fashioned hard work and ingenuity to get by. The local school serves 21+ children, and secondary students must live in the mainland homes of other family during the week and only go home on weekends and holidays.
My last day with my photography group and photo caddy, Saturday, we stopped in Kinvarra, a small fishing village with a castle. We were given the challenge to only take 10 photographs. At first, it was tough, but with a bit of focus I found I was better at capturing better, more meaningful images. Thanks, Connie!
We lunched in Ballyvaughan, where thatch cottages are more common and for rent, and walked about making our way back to a meeting spot. Along the way, we had the great fortune to stumble upon a painting landscape competition with artists who were very willing (the two I spoke with) to share their work and their thoughts. Our final time was spent in and around The Burren. It is so beautiful, and so barren at the same time that it is amazing how much life it sustains. It is much like a granite dessert. We not only saw a variety of wild flowers, but also wild donkeys and farm cattle. At one time, farmers were asked to reduce the size of their herd by half (paid to do it) because the thoughts were that the cattle grazing was harming the wild flowers and such. Recently, botanists who've studied the impact agreed that the reduction was actually harming the landscape because of the reduced manure.
After hugs and wished for a safe journey, I parted from my photography group yesterday and had my first late dinner with no soup. I couldn't bear to not have Olcan serve Maureen's...it was the best! Instead I had Irish stew (poor lamb) was so yummy and filling - and the music of Ceolan made it so much less like I was alone.
As my photo friends made their way home, back to America, today - I photographed the Doolin Village and then...(to be continued)
Slainte (correct spelling!)
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Explorations
Salutations dÍreland!
Since I've last posted, we've been photographing a variety of places and themes. Sunday was our sabbathing day, and started by our attending mass at Ballintubber Abbey. It is the oldest surviving abbey in all of Ireland. It has been a place of prayer since 441BC, founded by St. Patrick himself. The original abbey was constructed in 1216. Even partly destroyed in the 1600's to the restoration in the late 1800's there was mass. The abbey is 29 years older than Westminster Abbey. Each year, many make the 23 mile pilgrimmage from the abbey to Croagh Patrick, walking through farm fields and using the stiles (openings) in the stone walls for passage.
During the time of the Penal Law (when catholics weren't allowed to publicly honor their faith, there were priest hunters. When one tried to kill the priest of Ballintubber Abbey he failed, only wounding him. When the hunter died, the priest had him buried near the entrance to the abbey. A tree grew up there splitting the grave in half and uprooting the hunter. How spooky...
The afternoon was spent at Carrickahowley Castle - one of the five belonging to the pirate queen of Westport: Granuaile - Grace O'Malley. Let me tell you, it may look small in stature but it actually held over 500 people in its time, and they were even succesful at keeping the British out of Clew Bay. After three weeks of battle, the British army gave up and went home.
As a pirate queen, Grace stole from ships carrying goods. If they agreed to let her board, she'd steal everything. If they didn't, she'd steal everything and then some. This put a little dent in the tax collection for England. She had a great following for those local, as she didn't keep the money. She used it to help support the poor. A female Robin Hood.:-)
This particular castle is the official O'Malley clan's mainland castle. If you are an O'Malley, you may be part of that clan and would have a right (the honor) of visiting the properties with much greater access.
On Monday morning, we explored Sheaffrey Wood: home to the magic of Ireland. While Olcan played his flute the fairies snuck in and out of the photographs sometimes dancing and other times seeking mischief. Near the road is an abandoned house, further up are the fox gloves, bot cotton, and fly traps: local flora that add color to such a thick green backdrop.
Walking the river's edge, it felt like home with fish jumping (sorry, Devin - didn't catch any!), bugs biting, and the clouds creating a peek-a-boo feel with the rolling mountain backdrop.
That afternoon, we made new friends in Leenane, tucked in between mountains. This place, this community is the essence of Connemara with the pub (short for public house) being the lifeblood and gathering place in this single street village. I met Antoinette from the east coast of Ireland and her friend John from Inisturk, who danced when Olcan played; he even taught our photography guide a few of the steps.
Hilary, the long-time owner of the pub, even invited me behind the bar to get a better view to photograph some of the others. Every time he saw a camera, he'd stop and pose. I did finally capture his image when he wasn't looking, but it took some time indeed.
If Leenane seems familiar in name, it may be because there was a film made called "The Field" or, if you're a history conniseur, you may have already read about the Doo Lough tragedy. When the village of from Leah Mountain heard that there were supplies in the next village, they walked the Doo Lough Pass over the mountain in an effort to survive. Part of the walk included passing a lake. Well, Leenane was that "next village" and there were no supplies. Tired and weakened, they decided to walk home. With heavy rains, the lake rose too quickly and over 500 people drowned.
The Chocktow Tribe in the US heard about their plight and having survived their own Trail of Tears, sent $100 to help the survivors. Now, each year there is a pilgrimmage walk to honor the victims and raise money to eradicate hunger.
Next post, I'll update you to the final days of this journey with my fellow photographers - and share a bit about "faire gortha" - Great Hunger. Until then, safe journeys...
Since I've last posted, we've been photographing a variety of places and themes. Sunday was our sabbathing day, and started by our attending mass at Ballintubber Abbey. It is the oldest surviving abbey in all of Ireland. It has been a place of prayer since 441BC, founded by St. Patrick himself. The original abbey was constructed in 1216. Even partly destroyed in the 1600's to the restoration in the late 1800's there was mass. The abbey is 29 years older than Westminster Abbey. Each year, many make the 23 mile pilgrimmage from the abbey to Croagh Patrick, walking through farm fields and using the stiles (openings) in the stone walls for passage.
During the time of the Penal Law (when catholics weren't allowed to publicly honor their faith, there were priest hunters. When one tried to kill the priest of Ballintubber Abbey he failed, only wounding him. When the hunter died, the priest had him buried near the entrance to the abbey. A tree grew up there splitting the grave in half and uprooting the hunter. How spooky...
The afternoon was spent at Carrickahowley Castle - one of the five belonging to the pirate queen of Westport: Granuaile - Grace O'Malley. Let me tell you, it may look small in stature but it actually held over 500 people in its time, and they were even succesful at keeping the British out of Clew Bay. After three weeks of battle, the British army gave up and went home.
As a pirate queen, Grace stole from ships carrying goods. If they agreed to let her board, she'd steal everything. If they didn't, she'd steal everything and then some. This put a little dent in the tax collection for England. She had a great following for those local, as she didn't keep the money. She used it to help support the poor. A female Robin Hood.:-)
This particular castle is the official O'Malley clan's mainland castle. If you are an O'Malley, you may be part of that clan and would have a right (the honor) of visiting the properties with much greater access.
On Monday morning, we explored Sheaffrey Wood: home to the magic of Ireland. While Olcan played his flute the fairies snuck in and out of the photographs sometimes dancing and other times seeking mischief. Near the road is an abandoned house, further up are the fox gloves, bot cotton, and fly traps: local flora that add color to such a thick green backdrop.
Walking the river's edge, it felt like home with fish jumping (sorry, Devin - didn't catch any!), bugs biting, and the clouds creating a peek-a-boo feel with the rolling mountain backdrop.
That afternoon, we made new friends in Leenane, tucked in between mountains. This place, this community is the essence of Connemara with the pub (short for public house) being the lifeblood and gathering place in this single street village. I met Antoinette from the east coast of Ireland and her friend John from Inisturk, who danced when Olcan played; he even taught our photography guide a few of the steps.
Hilary, the long-time owner of the pub, even invited me behind the bar to get a better view to photograph some of the others. Every time he saw a camera, he'd stop and pose. I did finally capture his image when he wasn't looking, but it took some time indeed.
If Leenane seems familiar in name, it may be because there was a film made called "The Field" or, if you're a history conniseur, you may have already read about the Doo Lough tragedy. When the village of from Leah Mountain heard that there were supplies in the next village, they walked the Doo Lough Pass over the mountain in an effort to survive. Part of the walk included passing a lake. Well, Leenane was that "next village" and there were no supplies. Tired and weakened, they decided to walk home. With heavy rains, the lake rose too quickly and over 500 people drowned.
The Chocktow Tribe in the US heard about their plight and having survived their own Trail of Tears, sent $100 to help the survivors. Now, each year there is a pilgrimmage walk to honor the victims and raise money to eradicate hunger.
Next post, I'll update you to the final days of this journey with my fellow photographers - and share a bit about "faire gortha" - Great Hunger. Until then, safe journeys...
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Gaelic & Ireland glossary
Greetings, all!
Today, because I was so busy preparing photos to upload for you - I wasn't able to write a witty and historical piece. But, I have many notes regarding the changes in slang and the nuances of what we say when meaning the same thing. Enjoy!
in Maine in Ireland
born & raised born & dragged up
french fries chips
betting parlor book club
sale pending sale agreed
sheep dung Mayo raisins
apple pie apple tart
police garda
lawyers solicitors
take out take away
right on dead on & in England they say spot on (I love this one!)
These will especially help you when trying to decipher the Ireland maps.
church kil or kill
town bally
rock carrick
mountain slieve or croagh
river quay
lake lough
Photos: summer soccer on the River Liffey, anyone? Custer Hotel, Há'Penny Bridge, Christ Church, Marsh's Library, famine statues, coffin ship, Westport quay, boathouse on quay, recently abandoned house, famine house, sheep on cliffside, 15,000 years old bog oak, thistle, Grace O'Malley's castle, and staircase used to deter her enemies. If you need help, reread some of the details from my posting. :-)
Í promise to update the exciting stuff soon. For now, I'll leave you with the typical Irish referal to summer - "summer is when the rain warms up a bit."
Spot On...for now.
Today, because I was so busy preparing photos to upload for you - I wasn't able to write a witty and historical piece. But, I have many notes regarding the changes in slang and the nuances of what we say when meaning the same thing. Enjoy!
in Maine in Ireland
born & raised born & dragged up
french fries chips
betting parlor book club
sale pending sale agreed
sheep dung Mayo raisins
apple pie apple tart
police garda
lawyers solicitors
take out take away
right on dead on & in England they say spot on (I love this one!)
These will especially help you when trying to decipher the Ireland maps.
church kil or kill
town bally
rock carrick
mountain slieve or croagh
river quay
lake lough
Photos: summer soccer on the River Liffey, anyone? Custer Hotel, Há'Penny Bridge, Christ Church, Marsh's Library, famine statues, coffin ship, Westport quay, boathouse on quay, recently abandoned house, famine house, sheep on cliffside, 15,000 years old bog oak, thistle, Grace O'Malley's castle, and staircase used to deter her enemies. If you need help, reread some of the details from my posting. :-)
Í promise to update the exciting stuff soon. For now, I'll leave you with the typical Irish referal to summer - "summer is when the rain warms up a bit."
Spot On...for now.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Croagh Patrick & Famine Houses
Cead Mile Failte! (Here comes another one!)
It feels like forever, and so much has happened since my last post. As I mentioned, I missed the 1st of only 2 busses and had the luxury of spending another morning in Dublin. I hopped on a bus and visited Archbishop Marsh's Library. It was constructed in 1701, making it the oldest library in all of Ireland. Readers, mostly Trinity College students, were locked in a cage with the books chained to a rod in the bookcase. The library is exactly the same today as it was then - even the bell without the striker in cage one where Stella (Jonathan Swift's love) lost her life as she was forgotten in the cage.
I saw the pub on Dawsons Stree that only holds 14 people. Talk about cozy; you could fall over and never hit the ground. :-)
Journeyed west for the night, and was picked up to join my photography group. We are a fabulous bunch of women who get on so well. We vary in age and personality, but we share a common love to photograph to show how we see the world. Some excel at striking up conversations, and I for one am still working on that.
We spent Saturday photographing what Olcan (our local guide) refers to as Timescape Photography. We are not only capturing images of objects or people - but thinking about all the history and spirit of the place we photograph. We visited the Coffin Ship monument in Murrisk. It's photos will speak for themselves, I promise you. Olcan had the honor of performing (he's a very accomplished traditional musician) at the unveiling ceremony with President Mary Robinson in 1991.
As President, Mary did much in commissioning works to commemorate the Famine Years and had the works scattered all across Ireland. She initiated the light in the presidential home in Phoenix Park, a model of the White House, to remain on until all who emigrated return "home".
There are only two residences in all of Phoenix Park in Dublin. One is the home of the acting President. The other is a beautiful home on 60 acres for the American Ambassador as a thank you for all America did in accepting famine victims and working to create a plan for their succesful transition.
We photographed the remains of Murrisk Friary, built in 1457 in the shadow of Croagh Patrick, and wandered around the adjacent cemetaries.
After lunch (tuna melt wrap and water) filled the belly, we hiked up the hill to the Croagh Patrick monument. I spoke with a young man who had just come down from the mountain, who tried convincing me that this vertical hike "tweren't too bad; you should try it." Of course, he had a devlish sparkle in his eye and he laughed a bit. Irish humor, you know. :-)
Outside Campbell's, a meeting place for many who make the pilgrimmage up Croagh Patrick on the last Sunday in July, we captured the essence of a long-time local. The joy and contentment in her face is a testament to her strength. A truly delightful lady.
Later in the afternoon, with perfect light, we journeyed through Louisburgh on to Barnabawn to make Timescape Landscapes of several abandoned famine houses. One, untouched since the 1850's - the other re-roofed and lived in until the family moved to Germany to find work in the late 1950's.
Olcan spoke of how there were actually two famines in close proximity. The first famine 1845-1847 claimed nearly 2 million people who passed. The second, from 1855, saw another 2 million people emigrating to Britain, Australia, and America. In the late 1840's, there were 8 million people living in Ireland; last year, they just reached the 4 million mark. Today, they still receive "blight" warnings so that they can spread an organic powder on their fields to prevent the loss of the potatoe - especially in wet conditions to keep them from rotting in the ground.
In the graveyards at the friary are many rocks of different sizes. Each of these represents someone who passed in the famine and were "lucky enough to be buried in Irish soil." Many of those who emigrated left weak and sick; if they dies on ship, they were given a typical sea burial. Many more, who made it to the island off Quebec are buried in mass graves. Also, now bearing a monument, honoring their lives with a promise to not let it happen again.
After a delicious dinner (pork & potatoes - how fitting with mushroom soup), we were off to Cronin's Pub to enjoy the local flavor and listen to Olcan and his mates perform. Jeannie and I had our first Guiness, and we were all weary yet sad to head back at midnight.
To be continued...
It feels like forever, and so much has happened since my last post. As I mentioned, I missed the 1st of only 2 busses and had the luxury of spending another morning in Dublin. I hopped on a bus and visited Archbishop Marsh's Library. It was constructed in 1701, making it the oldest library in all of Ireland. Readers, mostly Trinity College students, were locked in a cage with the books chained to a rod in the bookcase. The library is exactly the same today as it was then - even the bell without the striker in cage one where Stella (Jonathan Swift's love) lost her life as she was forgotten in the cage.
I saw the pub on Dawsons Stree that only holds 14 people. Talk about cozy; you could fall over and never hit the ground. :-)
Journeyed west for the night, and was picked up to join my photography group. We are a fabulous bunch of women who get on so well. We vary in age and personality, but we share a common love to photograph to show how we see the world. Some excel at striking up conversations, and I for one am still working on that.
We spent Saturday photographing what Olcan (our local guide) refers to as Timescape Photography. We are not only capturing images of objects or people - but thinking about all the history and spirit of the place we photograph. We visited the Coffin Ship monument in Murrisk. It's photos will speak for themselves, I promise you. Olcan had the honor of performing (he's a very accomplished traditional musician) at the unveiling ceremony with President Mary Robinson in 1991.
As President, Mary did much in commissioning works to commemorate the Famine Years and had the works scattered all across Ireland. She initiated the light in the presidential home in Phoenix Park, a model of the White House, to remain on until all who emigrated return "home".
There are only two residences in all of Phoenix Park in Dublin. One is the home of the acting President. The other is a beautiful home on 60 acres for the American Ambassador as a thank you for all America did in accepting famine victims and working to create a plan for their succesful transition.
We photographed the remains of Murrisk Friary, built in 1457 in the shadow of Croagh Patrick, and wandered around the adjacent cemetaries.
After lunch (tuna melt wrap and water) filled the belly, we hiked up the hill to the Croagh Patrick monument. I spoke with a young man who had just come down from the mountain, who tried convincing me that this vertical hike "tweren't too bad; you should try it." Of course, he had a devlish sparkle in his eye and he laughed a bit. Irish humor, you know. :-)
Outside Campbell's, a meeting place for many who make the pilgrimmage up Croagh Patrick on the last Sunday in July, we captured the essence of a long-time local. The joy and contentment in her face is a testament to her strength. A truly delightful lady.
Later in the afternoon, with perfect light, we journeyed through Louisburgh on to Barnabawn to make Timescape Landscapes of several abandoned famine houses. One, untouched since the 1850's - the other re-roofed and lived in until the family moved to Germany to find work in the late 1950's.
Olcan spoke of how there were actually two famines in close proximity. The first famine 1845-1847 claimed nearly 2 million people who passed. The second, from 1855, saw another 2 million people emigrating to Britain, Australia, and America. In the late 1840's, there were 8 million people living in Ireland; last year, they just reached the 4 million mark. Today, they still receive "blight" warnings so that they can spread an organic powder on their fields to prevent the loss of the potatoe - especially in wet conditions to keep them from rotting in the ground.
In the graveyards at the friary are many rocks of different sizes. Each of these represents someone who passed in the famine and were "lucky enough to be buried in Irish soil." Many of those who emigrated left weak and sick; if they dies on ship, they were given a typical sea burial. Many more, who made it to the island off Quebec are buried in mass graves. Also, now bearing a monument, honoring their lives with a promise to not let it happen again.
After a delicious dinner (pork & potatoes - how fitting with mushroom soup), we were off to Cronin's Pub to enjoy the local flavor and listen to Olcan and his mates perform. Jeannie and I had our first Guiness, and we were all weary yet sad to head back at midnight.
To be continued...
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Final time in Dublin...
Salutations d'Irlande (Greetings from Ireland)!
Started my day yesterday with a repeat breakfast, but not the weather. Drizzle turned to full rain. Not bad by New England standards...torrential downpour in Ireland speak. :-)
Wandered a bit and discovered Cluster Hotel (owned by U2's Bono), crossed the Ha'Penny bridge, and was deeply moved by the Famine Statues. Then, hopped a bus to National Library. What better way to spend a few rainy hours than being in one of the most beautiful libraries in all the world surrounded by thousands of many old books and records.
Unfortunately for me, photography was not allowed in the library. The walls were all hand-carved, they have book bean bags for them to lay open to not damage the spines, there is much gold leaf and cherubs throughout the rooms, and it resides right beside the College of the Irish Physicians. So, my single book loving friends take notice...make your reservations now. :-)
The geneology research room was fabulous and the help was geniunely helpful. I discovered that my mother's family name actually has more than a dozen variations of spelling and still many reside in Ireland. Thinking I might look up a long lost cousin, maybe.
Another ride on the hop on-hop off and loved hearing the "true history" behind all the colored doors in the georgian district. It seems that the homeowners were told to paint their doors black out of respect for Queen Victoria, who was going to pay a visit to Dublin. That's why all the different colors. The Irish are a spunky bunch indeed...
Seems like Dublin is a common stopover for those who travel beyond. My new roommate last night just came back from Poland, while Amy left this morning for Croatia and now, I, too, am on my way. Away from Dublin - ready to discover the quieter side of Ireland.
Slan-cheCheers...and safe journey!
Started my day yesterday with a repeat breakfast, but not the weather. Drizzle turned to full rain. Not bad by New England standards...torrential downpour in Ireland speak. :-)
Wandered a bit and discovered Cluster Hotel (owned by U2's Bono), crossed the Ha'Penny bridge, and was deeply moved by the Famine Statues. Then, hopped a bus to National Library. What better way to spend a few rainy hours than being in one of the most beautiful libraries in all the world surrounded by thousands of many old books and records.
Unfortunately for me, photography was not allowed in the library. The walls were all hand-carved, they have book bean bags for them to lay open to not damage the spines, there is much gold leaf and cherubs throughout the rooms, and it resides right beside the College of the Irish Physicians. So, my single book loving friends take notice...make your reservations now. :-)
The geneology research room was fabulous and the help was geniunely helpful. I discovered that my mother's family name actually has more than a dozen variations of spelling and still many reside in Ireland. Thinking I might look up a long lost cousin, maybe.
Another ride on the hop on-hop off and loved hearing the "true history" behind all the colored doors in the georgian district. It seems that the homeowners were told to paint their doors black out of respect for Queen Victoria, who was going to pay a visit to Dublin. That's why all the different colors. The Irish are a spunky bunch indeed...
Seems like Dublin is a common stopover for those who travel beyond. My new roommate last night just came back from Poland, while Amy left this morning for Croatia and now, I, too, am on my way. Away from Dublin - ready to discover the quieter side of Ireland.
Slan-cheCheers...and safe journey!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Ireland Arrival
Salutations d'Irlande (Greetings from Ireland)!
Arrived about 5:30 am Dublin time yesterday. Flying into the airport was so unique for me because there were so many huge fields for so many miles of varying shades of green, then suddenly, there's an airport runway.
From the air, the few major roads looked like snakes winding their way north, south, and west.
Just like at home, arriving at the airport is like phase I of the journey because so many were traveling on to other Ireland destinations. Mary, a lovely grandmother I met in Boston, was heading back to Donegal. Home her entire life. So, after the long flight, and equally tiring clock change, she still had hours to go by bus or friends.
But, her spirits were up because the weather was so accomodating for us. Hannah, a cute six-year-old on the plane, was less than happy to be home. She expressed her "hate" for Ireland by supporting it with the rain that was her only real complaint. "You grown-ups may think it (the rain) is lovely, but I'm a kid. And, I don't like it raining all the time." Hannah got her wish yesterday; I don't think it rained here at all.
I could be wrong - if I missed it during the mini doze on the hop on-hop off bus tour I took.
On my own, I've made a new friend: Amy from Oregon, I bought stamps at the post office (home to the Easter Uprising of 1916), seen the "Bloke and the Poke" - local nicknames for the Larkin Statue and the Millenium Spire (though millenium was officially removed from the name because it took three years longer to complete and missed the 2000 deadline).
I've seen the River Liffey, its Ha'Penny bridge, wandered through Temple Bar area and found the National Photographic Archive and photography gallery, and laid on the lawn of Christ Church Cathedral for a fresh perspective of such a truly beautiful old building. I accidentally stumbled on to my first true Irish breakfast: 2 tomato quarters, poached egg, beans, sausage, ham/bacon, triangle-shaped fried potato omelette, which is how I met Amy - and had my first pub lunch: vegetable (corn) soup and ice water.
And, Amy and I wrapped up the evening at a local's pub - clear across town in the non-tourist zone, and experienced a fabulous live music session. It was so cool, how each musician just kind of showed up and began to play. Seemed like most of the four it was the first time playing together. Some, all playing a local favorite that inspired everyone around us to join in singing - sometimes, just one musician who knew a song the others didn't. Couldn't have planned a more perfect first day in Ireland.
Slan-che
Cheers...and safe journey!
(PS - Any errors can be attributed to my haste in typing, my lack of a dictionary or spell check, and this very different from our US keyboard. Sorry!)
Arrived about 5:30 am Dublin time yesterday. Flying into the airport was so unique for me because there were so many huge fields for so many miles of varying shades of green, then suddenly, there's an airport runway.
From the air, the few major roads looked like snakes winding their way north, south, and west.
Just like at home, arriving at the airport is like phase I of the journey because so many were traveling on to other Ireland destinations. Mary, a lovely grandmother I met in Boston, was heading back to Donegal. Home her entire life. So, after the long flight, and equally tiring clock change, she still had hours to go by bus or friends.
But, her spirits were up because the weather was so accomodating for us. Hannah, a cute six-year-old on the plane, was less than happy to be home. She expressed her "hate" for Ireland by supporting it with the rain that was her only real complaint. "You grown-ups may think it (the rain) is lovely, but I'm a kid. And, I don't like it raining all the time." Hannah got her wish yesterday; I don't think it rained here at all.
I could be wrong - if I missed it during the mini doze on the hop on-hop off bus tour I took.
On my own, I've made a new friend: Amy from Oregon, I bought stamps at the post office (home to the Easter Uprising of 1916), seen the "Bloke and the Poke" - local nicknames for the Larkin Statue and the Millenium Spire (though millenium was officially removed from the name because it took three years longer to complete and missed the 2000 deadline).
I've seen the River Liffey, its Ha'Penny bridge, wandered through Temple Bar area and found the National Photographic Archive and photography gallery, and laid on the lawn of Christ Church Cathedral for a fresh perspective of such a truly beautiful old building. I accidentally stumbled on to my first true Irish breakfast: 2 tomato quarters, poached egg, beans, sausage, ham/bacon, triangle-shaped fried potato omelette, which is how I met Amy - and had my first pub lunch: vegetable (corn) soup and ice water.
And, Amy and I wrapped up the evening at a local's pub - clear across town in the non-tourist zone, and experienced a fabulous live music session. It was so cool, how each musician just kind of showed up and began to play. Seemed like most of the four it was the first time playing together. Some, all playing a local favorite that inspired everyone around us to join in singing - sometimes, just one musician who knew a song the others didn't. Couldn't have planned a more perfect first day in Ireland.
Slan-che
Cheers...and safe journey!
(PS - Any errors can be attributed to my haste in typing, my lack of a dictionary or spell check, and this very different from our US keyboard. Sorry!)
Saturday, June 28, 2008
The Journey Begins
In just a couple of weeks, my 2008 Fund for Teacher's Fellowship journey begins.
"Opening the soul’s shutter: A photographic journey through unspoiled villages of Ireland designed to promote avidity for art, history, and culture."
Each day, I will journey into remote villages to meet the locals. I will learn to photograph Ireland as a place, how to frame a shot that best exemplifies the nuances of that locale, and how to obtain permission and then photograph people I don’t know without becoming part of the story or having it looked posed. Finding the humanistic approach to my photography - this is critical to my learning.
I also plan to visit various monuments, museums, gardens, and abandoned villages of Ireland. All to practice my new skills in photography as well as gather insights, resources, and artifacts to support collaboration with a colleague on the Emigration from Ireland.
In addition, I will take and present photographs of the flora and fauna of rural Ireland and then work with our biology teacher in helping biology students learn how to analyze the similarities and differences between the two ecosystems. I am also seeking to make a connection with an interested high school science teacher in rural Ireland so that those same students can begin online communications between the our local school and theirs.
Join me, as I discover all that Eire has to offer, while making new friends along the way.
"Opening the soul’s shutter: A photographic journey through unspoiled villages of Ireland designed to promote avidity for art, history, and culture."
Each day, I will journey into remote villages to meet the locals. I will learn to photograph Ireland as a place, how to frame a shot that best exemplifies the nuances of that locale, and how to obtain permission and then photograph people I don’t know without becoming part of the story or having it looked posed. Finding the humanistic approach to my photography - this is critical to my learning.
I also plan to visit various monuments, museums, gardens, and abandoned villages of Ireland. All to practice my new skills in photography as well as gather insights, resources, and artifacts to support collaboration with a colleague on the Emigration from Ireland.
In addition, I will take and present photographs of the flora and fauna of rural Ireland and then work with our biology teacher in helping biology students learn how to analyze the similarities and differences between the two ecosystems. I am also seeking to make a connection with an interested high school science teacher in rural Ireland so that those same students can begin online communications between the our local school and theirs.
Join me, as I discover all that Eire has to offer, while making new friends along the way.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
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