General Post Office

I know I'm posting a lot, but it's a good way for me to journal during this program. Don't feel bad if you can't keep up with me and comment. This is what I need to do for myself. But I do hope you'll enjoy the visit.

I had to mail some postcards today, so I thought there would be no better place to mail them than in the General Post Office in Dublin, where the leaders of the Easter uprising of 1916 had their headquarters.

The uprising was defeated and its leaders arrested and executed. But less than three years later, in 1919, survivors of the Rising convened and established the Irish Republic.

I added this photo today so you could see the bullet holes in the column in front of the GPO.



An original copy of the Proclamation of independence is on permanent display inside. You can read the proclamation here.

In 2005 the Irish government decided to go ahead with a plan to move postal services elsewhere and preserve this building as a commemoration to the Easter Uprising.


Today I also saw an exhibit of William Butler Yeats at the National Library. His handwritten copy of the poem “Easter 1916” was not there in the case where it should have been by this plaque.

“Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?”

Here you can read the whole poem.

This is an inspiring place. And tomorrow we go to Tara again!

Blarney Castle

The third castle on this site near Cork was built in 1446.

On the walk to the castle, we crossed over a bridge with coins glistening in the water. Shadows: Inge and me. After the photo we threw coins in with a wish.



This site says:

"The Earl of Leicester was commanded by Queen Elizabeth I to take possession of the castle. Whenever he endeavoured to negotiate the matter McCarthy always suggested a banquet or some other form of delay, so that when the queen asked for progress reports a long missive was sent, at the end of which the castle remained untaken. The queen was said to be so irritated that she remarked that the earl's reports were all 'Blarney'."

The castle is almost 90' high.

There are winding narrow stairs, secret passages, large rooms, tiny rooms, tunnels and beautiful windows.

Francis Sylvester Mahony wrote that whoever kisses the Blarney stone becomes eloquent, to woo a woman or become a Member of Parliament.

I wasn't going to kiss it, but when our students got excited to do it, I couldn't pass up the chance to become eloquent, and well, just to laugh at the experience.

Inge didn't kiss it, but she took my picture with this man whose job it is to hold women (and men) all day and say silly things like "Let's see how you kiss in the daytime." From the look of his pile of euro coins, I'd say his lines are working. But once I got down in there, backwards, he kept telling me to go farther and farther, until my lips were touching the bottom of the stone edge. Scaaaaaary! (Even though there are now bars that keep you from falling.)

After kissing the Blarney stone, we went to dinner in town, where on each table a vase with one yellow rose sat. Both Inge's and my mom love/d yellow roses, so that was a nice memory. (Inge's mom is still alive.)

When we took our second bus in Cork, some of our students were boarding too. Lena and Becky found some three leaf clovers.

Kinsale

We spent a few hours in Kinsale Saturday, in the rain.

They were expecting us, from the looks of this backpack. They got it slightly off: MSU colors with U of M's logo. They don't know how wrong that is.

Killarney

Today we spent the day at Killarney National Park. Two hours on the three lakes, two hours in jaunting cars through the valley and the Gap of Dunloe. If you want to read more about Killarney, go here.

Theresa always climbs.




Do you believe this? Our driver, below, was wearing a University of Michigan shirt! We told him we might have to make him change his shirt before leaving the shore. Well, we promised we'd bring him a proper Michigan State University shirt next year.

Ginnie/Boots, this one is for you:

Heather, this one is for you:


This is Inge and me at the monastery ruins on Inisfallen Island:


Then we got on the jaunting cars. These are two of our students, Trevor and Mike:

Heather, this one is for you too:

This is our driver, Michael, letting Nelly get a drink:

Here are Inge and Glen, giving Nelly a little love after her hard work for us:

First days in Ireland

We arrived after a long trip. 4-hour bus from Michigan to Chicago, 7-hour plane from Chicago to Dublin. 4-hour bus from Dublin to Cork.

On the way to Cork, we stopped at Cashel. This castle/monastery sits atop the Rock of Cashel.


In Cashel town, there are quaint buildings, like this thatched cottage. (The Irish say "tached.")

Gotta protect the beer.



We arrived in Cork and our lodgings at Victoria Lodge, part of University College, Cork.

We walk through a residential neighborhood to the rest of campus. Most of the houses are named, rather than have a street address. I thought the name of this one was clever (think "anvil").



That was yesterday. Today we traveled a short train ride to Cobh, the coastal town where 3 1/2 Irish immigrants migrated away from Ireland between 1855 and 1950. This is in the train station at Cork.

After arriving in Cobh, what happened next was rather astonishing. One year ago, on July 20, 2006, Don and I were in this same town, on this same study abroad program, and when we came around the corner to go down to St. Colman's cathedral, a casket was being carried out of the church. We watched the entire funeral procession file past, with 1,000 mourners walking behind the hearse. See my post about it here.

On the train to Cobh today, I was telling some of the students about that incredible experience. A 19-year-old woman had been murdered, and the whole town was in shock. My old time readers will remember it.

Today, we all walked toward the cathedral, came around the corner, and this is what we saw, again.

I stood, stunned, in the windy rain, umbrella blown inside out. My own insides were rather blown away too. This time the funeral was for a 70-year-old man who died of natural causes and lived a good life. I'm glad it wasn't a tragic death.

This is St. Colman's from city centre.

On the train back to Cork, several girls sat by us who had been at a wildlife camp in Cobh. We had a great little talk. The one on the left in the hat showed me three feathers she'd found. Sometimes I couldn't understand them in their beautiful Irish brogue. But we understood each other just fine.