wish my name were irish

i’ve been stuck in the mountains of dublin for the past week sans any internet connection, so i’ve accumulated quite a few ideas about arriving in ireland…

• i hate irish immigration. i think they’re there to make sure that you feel unwelcome during your first 15 minutes in the country. i get off the plane in dublin and go through the passport line, armed with the letter from my program provider, explaining why i do NOT need a visa and all the details of my trip. after a few exchanges with the stern woman (that’s my nice way of putting it), she tells me:
  a) “You, young lady, need to do a lot less talking and little more listening.”
  b) “You are telling me so many things, I don’t know what are lies and what is truth.”
  Woman is trying to tell me that I need to go to some office within a month, otherwise I’ll be deported. Has me stand against the wall with the height measurements and takes my picture (oh no! i’m in the irish police system!) so i go on my to claim my baggage, worried about what i just got myself into.

  i resolve to go back and try to straighten it out because i KNOW i don’t need a visa. so i approach a gentleman passport officer and explain that there’s been a mistake, playing the damsel in distress card. he clearly sympathizes, but sends me back to the same stern lady. i argue with her some more, provide her with every document i can, and she extends my stay until nov. 24. still, not that helpful as i will be here until dec. 8.

  i left the passport checkpoint thinking, “fuck this stupid country. i hate these people. let me go home.” thanks for a warm welcome ireland!

• other highlights from the first day:
  fell asleep and snored once ever so softly during a guest speaker due to jet lag. only thing that woke me up was my slight snore.

  when served a dessert of pears and cream, i asked my program director what the dessert was called, only to find that it was just that– pears and cream.

• the place we’re staying at used to be british army barracks, includes a protestant turned catholic church, has a german ww2 cemetery, was a center for german children who were left parentless during ww2, and has a grotto where the Virgin Mary herself appeared, according to local lore. boring tourist photos posted below.
• i am so sick of educational peace and conflict studies mumbo jumbo buzz words. “let’s examine the structures that maintain privilege.” “i’d like you to write down your hopes and anxieties for the program.” if i am asked to reflect one more time….i will scream. we go on a hike, we’re asked to reflect. actually, during the hike and after the hike. at the end of the day, please reflect on our activities. i don’t need time to reflect! i will tell you what i think right here and right now!
• had my first guinness. i was warned that it’s an acquired taste. found it to my liking with the first sip. makes you drunker than beer, but act less ridiculous?
• anytime we’re with irish people, whether it’s a lovely bus driver or a guest speaker, i become very conscious of how obnoxiously american we are. we’re SO loud and we talk about SUCH inappropriate things. the ira and sinn fein are not dirty words by any means, but do we really need to be shouting about them in the airport like, “yep, i’m loud and american and i know so much about this conflict of yours.” that’s pretty offensive.