Failte!

I'm excited to share my adventures with all of you! I want your first taste of my life in Ireland to be this poem that I wrote very late one night when I was a Junior in College. Its meaning seems eerily prophetic now. More than anything, I've created this blog to make the actualization of this life-long dream of mine visible to those I love: my friends who are my foundation, my endlessly supportive family, my mentors and co-workers who inspire me, and my former students who have given me enough satisfaction and fulfillment to last two lifetimes... Have the courage to believe that your wildest dreams can come true.

Is fhearr fheuchainn na bhith san duil, (It is better to try than to hope)

e
Mourn (A Seaside Peak in Southern Ireland)

The dark, earthen sod saturates her fair feet,
but briefly since she frolics fast in knee high
blades of greenest grass that blow dizzily in the Celtic-sea air.

Her wool skirt, stiffened by ware of evenings past
is splashed by cresting waves that break
against a beach blacker than her hair.
Those once stiffer fibers were loosed by nights upon nights
of hanging perfectly on his line before being wildly blown dry
by the crisp Hibernian salt air.

The pair sits to rest a while instead of dodging
breakers or skipping paler stones.

"Indian summer's here," he says softly,
but all of summer here feels like the edge
of autumn to her, even though she grins in agreement
as she dangles her pale, soft feet off Achilles' peak,
where Erin's vermillion-gold sky meets
an ocean that is grey with years.

She sleeps with her eyes closed tight most nights.
He asks her if she believes in Tier-Nan-Og,
and she asks him if he believes in anything eternal.
Outside the tide is rising, or it's receding—
She never can tell but for the strengthened smell of
salty freshness strained through his light, lace curtains.
She thinks to herself that he is like trying to hold the sea 
and she imagines the water running between her fingers--
clenched so tight.

And so, the night calls her out of her sleeping,
like daytime chides her into dreaming.
She slips her white fingers through the holes of an old loose scarf
that affords her more company than warmth
on these newborn autumn evenings. She is off-- 
Night clouds reflect emerald from land to sea,
And the tara that she never eyes from long hours of
staring too far into star blanketed skies,
feels cool against the thickening pads of her pallid feet.

Elisabeth Lewis (2005)

30 August 2011

Irish Myths: Busted!

Here it is! The first post from the Old Country, what everyone has been waiting for! Rather than enumerating the travails of our travels (don’t you love that alliteration?) I’ve come up with a list of the Top Ten Myths about Ireland BUSTED after my first 5 days here. We’ll see if these hold up for the next year. I found out I defend my Masters Thesis on August 24th,  2012--my father's 64th birthday, and the day I left the U.S. in 2011-- so  I will be moving back to the US after a loooong vacation following said Thesis submission.

10.  The Irish are overbearing Catholics

Have you met the Keatings? I live 3 doors down from a Presbyterian church and 2 blocks away from a Lutheran church. I’m probably the only person in the city who carries a rosary on me regularly (Thanks to Ms. Elizabeth Keating). There really aren’t  any strong Catholic overtones that I can detect YET…but I’m making this #10 because I want the freedom to go back and revise this assertion.

9.  They’re all gingers.

Ok, I’ll give this one 50%. There are a LOT of redheads. Which is exciting, especially given my penchant for the carrot complexion. However, the most notable unifying characteristic I can see is the blueness of the eyes here. EVERYONE has blue eyes. You know how in the U.S. when you’re walking down the street, maybe every fourth or fifth person has blue eyes? It’s not so rare that people stop you like they might in India or Italy, but when someone has bright blue eyes in the states it seems to be a stand-out or at least notable characteristic. Everyone has those eyes here. Brown eyes are the rarity (don’t I feel special). Furthermore, the amount of men with curly dark hair juxtaposed against piercing blue eyes is unsettling.  I get excited when I see a fellow dark complexion, but without fail my excitement wanes when I see that this similarly black-haired, medium-skinned, “black Irish” brethren has eyes the color of the pacific ocean. Ugh. I’m so German or something.

8 .  Irish men are big and burly and wear wool sweaters….

Ohhhh, I wish. But it just isn’t so.  Maybe when I venture out to the country this weekend, this opinion will change, but as far as I can tell, Gerry Butler is not waiting for me in a peat covered stable somewhere. A lot of the men here look English and are small(ish) to average size.  But I’m happy with the dark curls and light eyes…who could ask for more?

7. The Irish speak indiscernible English.

In the city, this is not true. In fact, most everyone sounds English to me. (As in, from somewhere in Britain).  Of course there are transplants from the country, and a dude on the bus spoke to his friend completely in Gaelic today, but for the most part I understand even thick accents easily (Candace has her moments).


6.  It rains here all the time.

Correction. It rains almost every day, BUT NOT ALL DAY. Yes, it’s common to get caught in a drizzle or even a downpour in the evening or afternoon, especially now in late summer/early fall. But there is an abundance of sun during the day. I know this because it is the only way my apartment is currently heated (through the large floor to ceiling windows). For the last few days I’ve been comfortably wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans to walk in, but that gets hot if I’m carrying something heavy or running (which is most of the time lately) so I would compare it to October in North Carolina. In other words, Perfect. For now ☺

5.  The Irish are fat?

I question this because I might’ve only heard this from a couple people….BUT I  include it because I think it’s important to note that Dubliners are incredibly trim. Not even in Boston did I find myself among such a slim population; one that rivals even Florence! Dubliners are some of the  fastest walking people on the planet and Lesbihonest….the food here isn’t amazing, so the slenderness seems to make sense, especially among people my age.


4.  Irish Girls are….less than attractive?

Totally false! I find the women here beautiful. Granted, most of them are either translucent or have hideous spray tans, but they’re all lithe and tall and fair (or trying not to be) and smartly dressed. ** What I’ve really noticed about women my age is the amount of make-up they wear. Admittedly, I have somehow tended to befriend women who wear little to no make-up. But these girls DO. THEMSELVES. UP. Thick, cat-like eye-liner, mascara, fake eye-lashes, BRONZER like there’s no tomorrow and lots of foundation. Maybe this is just being in a city again? But I’ve definitely found myself double layering my liquid eyeliner and flicking it up at the end ala Adele Laurie Blue . What can I say? I’m inspired.

** Women of all ages here wear panty hose. Not tights, but straight-up-your-grandmother’s nude colored pantyhose. Personally I like it, and I’ll also do anything to show off my legs and stay warm in a 50 degree September ☺


3. The Irish have Bad Teeth.

JK it’s totally true, but only in the older generations... it’s sad and unfortunate, BUT at least they have the true blue eyes to detract from it!


2.  The Irish have violent sports feuds.

This past Sunday there was a big Gaelic Football game. Donnegal  (my ancestral homeland) vs. Dublin, and we were sure there would be bar brawls, but people peacefully walked around in their shades of blue (Dublin) or Green and Yellow and were totally at peace. Our lovely cab driver told us that  all the rivalries were friendly and there was never a problem over sports teams in pubs.

1. The Irish are drunks.

Ok, So Maybe I haven’t been out enough….but everyone seems so productive in this fast paced city. The bars seem to be full of students and tourists, but I’m used to that after 5+ years in Chapel Hill.  I mean, people definitely go to the pub on the weekends early. Like 12 or 1? Pm. But I think they’re reasonable during the week! This place is close to my house...The Bleeding Horse

I can genuinely say that the Irish people have been so extremely welcoming and friendly this past week. From cab drivers to bus drivers to waiters and landlords, everyone here seems eager to help and equally interested in why we chose to leave America for (much cheaper) Irish education. It’s like being around a bunch of good-tempered, non-haughty Brits. I’m so excited about starting orientation and meeting more people my age! My School is only 3% International, so I imagine I will heavily depend on these blue-eyed Irish for friendships. Maybe I shouldn’t tell them about my blog...

Much love to everyone who has sent me well wishes since I’ve been gone, specifically my family, Especially Anna Kate and Sol who are getting married in 11 days and let me stay with them before I flew out; Veronica for flying down to NC to calm my nerves like only she can do; Joshy for packing me…approximately eleven times. ELEVEN; And Dela and Magan, tying for missing me most award.

What have I learned so far? Sweater weather is nice and I will enjoy it while it lasts. Where am I applying for jobs for next year? THE SOUTHWEST.

Here's a peek at the front door. The inside will come shortly with my "Elisabeth and Candace: Decorating on a Dime" post!








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  1. Far31 August, 2011 13:22

    Ireland is green because of my jealousy. Have you seen the Dubliner women with the hot pink tights? Those are the tarts. :-) Dublin beat Donegal, of course, and it's quite an upset (or so Jason tells me as he wears his Atha Cliath jersey with pride). My friend Adrian is from Sligo (bumf***) and he assures me that Dublin is barely Ireland, so once you get out of the city, some of your hopes may finally become a reality. Oh my gosh. Seriously. I hate the phone and I want to call you so bad. TELL ME EVERYTHING! I'm stalking you. Please go to Bewley's for me, and take a picture with Molly Malone, and make fun of the ridiculous drunk Americans in Temple Bar on your way to pick up a Full Irish at 7 am. Meantime, I'll be forced to watch Once a dozen times and to live vicariously.

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