Kissing the Stone to (Non)Crotchety Old Men

as i haven't posted for a few days, i'll just break thangs down day-by-day--
thursday--went to trinity college to see the book of kells. on thursdays, i have about a four hour break between classes, so that's my day to go to moore st. and pick up some veggies, and then go see something interesting. the trinity campus is gorgeous; i can't imagine going to class in places like that every day. the book of kells was even more detailed than i thought, and i took up a good chunk of my (and other people's--whoops) time just staring at it. they have the book of dimma, and another book whose name i can't remember (not durrow) open as well, and then one picture page and one text page from the book of kells open (there are four books, so they open two of them). the picture page was incredible--you could stare at it for an hour and still find new things. it's hard to wrap your head around how much time it must have taken (with only four scribes!). i think never having been outside north america, my concept of "old" is different. the oldest thing i've seen is stuff from the revolutionary war or maybe some native american artifacts, but never something man-made that's more than 700 years old--the idea is kind of surreal for me. after you see the book of kells, you walk into the long hall of the library, which i hadn't heard that much about, and should be just as famous, because it is AMAZING. it's hugely tall, and houses all of the library's oldest books. apparently it was the model for the hogwarts great hall in the movies (i'm running into harry potter a lot lately, for some reason)--jtal, you would be in heaven. so i wandered around there for a good while until the german boys that were trailing me started skeeving me out and i left. we had movement class, which is a pretty good workout, and then we had all gone out on wednesday and were a bit tired, so we stayed in and watched a movie that night.
oh, and the class i have on thursday morning is one i'm auditing (taking without credit, for all my fam) called "writing on the wall." it's about the use of art and literature during the troubles (the war between what is now northern ireland and what is now the republic). i'm beginning to understand the whole timeline of the country's creation a lot better, which makes this whole experience really interesting. it's a country that really has only reached a place of some kind of stability in the past decade or so, and whose identity is still conflicted. my professor, ashley, grew up in belfast during the later, more violent years of the troubles, and he told us stories and showed pictures of his experiences and the violence that was happening. basically, as most of you probably know, the conflict is between catholic and protestants. it started out very early on as a religious conflict, but like most things, the original context is more or less lost against the bitterness that grew over the tension. the war was between the nationalists (whose paramilitary branch is the irish republican army, the IRA that most people recognize) and the loyalists (paramilitary branch had several factions, i think, but the ulster volunteer force, the UVF, was the biggest as i understand it). the british army and secret service was sent to fight on the side of the UVF, but their actions weren't technically sanctioned by the government, and a lot of the violence was renegade and secretive. ashley had a story that pretty much exemplified the senselessness of the whole thing--his uncle owned a tire factory that employed half catholics and half protestants (the fact that he can teach a class with a sense of unbias as a protestant means his family must have been really accepting; this whole thing is something that still makes it impossible for people to watch movies or read anything based on it without getting angry). they were out of town, and he walked in on his uncle weeping in front of the tv. his factory was razed to the ground by protestants, his own side, for showing any mercy for catholics. his family not only lost their biggest source of income, and the only place that many catholics could find a job, but their name was later found at the bottom of a death list. they had to evacuate to galway the next day to avoid being captured and shot by the UVF. he had to be patted down when he went anywhere, to detect any petrol bombs or homemade guns (petrol bombs were made with sugar so that when they exploded on anyone's skin, it would stick and burn). masked men with guns were everywhere, and because they all dressed the same in black, when you encountered one, you didn't know if they were going to shoot you or protect you. boys who were found breaking in to stores, stealing, or committing acts of violence, from either side, were told to show up for their punishment at a planned time. at the beginning, their heads were shaved and they were covered in white paint and chained to a post as an example for 24 hours. it got worse, and they were told to lie down, and they were shot through the knee caps. then the technology for titanium kneecaps got a lot better, and they started doing six-packs--through the kneecaps, wrists, and ankles. and they had no option but to take it, because if they didn't show up, they were hunt down and killed. ashley says he can still tell, driving from northeast republic to northern ireland, the difference between catholic and protestant land. as the disenfranchised, the catholics have unarable, ruined land, and the protestants have rich land. there is no border between the two countries, and you don't need a passport to enter, but there's a huge, growing peace wall between catholic and protestant communities in belfast. apologies for the length of that description, but i think it's really interesting, so i hope you all do too.
i also saw david walliams, the superstar english tv actor who was in "no man's land" on grafton st. today. grafton is the shopping center of the city and always packed, but he is probably about 6'6" and was wearing a gorgeous suit and raybans. this british group in front of us was freaking out and talking to him and my roommate and i were like "who is that?" and he kept walking and people were turning around, taking pictures of his back, etc. and we were like "wait, was that...oh my god, it was!" i'm still waiting to see bono.
friday--not much to tell--we had people over to our place, and then went out to a great pub called flannery's down the road. our sixth roommate moved out the next day--she's really lovely, we got along really well, but we keep very different hours and she's 24, so she decided to move in with some friends from trinity. i've also become a tea addict--we went to a place called queen of tarts last week, and had the most delicious desserts we've ever had, plus amazing tea with super-fresh cream. this sounds weird, but the dairy here is out of control delicious.
saturday--after a late night out, we all woke up at seven am and took the train to cork city. the train ride was long, about three hours, but we got to see a lot of southern ireland, which doesn't look too different from nice parts of the midwest at times, except greener. cows and sheep are everywhere (which made me a little sad when i had lamb for dinner, but it was delicious, so the guilt went away after awhile). cork city itself is very pretty but very commercial. there's a billion irish and uk chain stores, but very few independent places. we walked around for about 45 minutes, and that was enough. cork city has this bizarre feud with dublin because cork believes itself to be the real capitol city for some reason. we had lunch at a local pub--kind of awkward because they don't really serve you, so you have to go up and ask for a menu and then order at the bar, then we didn't know if we had to get up and get our food or have it served. but we figured it out--and had some delicious soup and sandwiches. we then took a city bus to blarney, famous for its castle and the blarney stone. it was literally the most gorgeous place i've ever seen. the castle is incredible, and the views from the top are breathtaking. the best weather to see anything in ireland is a little rainy, a little windy, and a lot gray--it just sets the mood for anywhere you go. which is lucky, because that's the weather most of the time, and during yesterday. and the grounds around it ("Rock Close") is like something out of a fairy tale book--lush, green, tons of twisting trees, dolmens (neolithic structures), and some of the weirdest plants i've ever seen. the plant life here, as i've said, is bizarre in its range. there were these huge ones that looked like giant, jurassic lilypads--pictures are forthcoming (our effing internet is STILL not working). and i kissed the blarney stone--you get held by an old man who's been doing it for as long as the travel channel can remember, because a couple of the roomies saw him on tv a few years ago. he holds your waist and you bend backwards and hold onto a railing, stare down to the ground (a LONG way), and kiss. made my lips feel nasty, but hopefully i now have the gift of gab--though with my running, loud mouth, i might not need it. had a delicious dinner at a pub, and some more delicious dessert, and encountered some rowdy english women who told us that despite the fact that we had to get on to catch the last train to dublin, they needed to get on because they "had drinks to be 'avin." then we all passed out on the train ride home, and as has become our custom when getting home late, made snacks and watched weird irish tv, including david walliam's "a good night in," which was a random assortment of things that david walliams likes to watch.

also, an irish man (most of whom are incredibly nice--it's the old women you have to watch out for), after asking who i wanted to win the election, told me that sarah palin's only problem was that she was using a long rifle to shoot moose instead of a bow and arrow. i told him i'd pass the message on.