Sunday, which means I should write something here, hmm?
I don't really have much to talk about this week, or at least nothing particularly Irish. The last two weeks have largely been a reminder for me that I really do love Academia. The whole Academic scene is one I feel comfortable with and really enjoy. My social life lately tends to involve going to some lecture or another of an evening and then going for drinks afterward. The past two Thursdays, I have gone to the "Counter-Factual History Series" at the Galway City Museum. (I didn't actually know about the existence of the museum until Thursday last.) These are lectures where a scholar addresses a "What if...?" question. Two weeks ago it was Dr. John Cunningham, my main history professor, talking about what would have happened if Eamon De Valera had been killed and Michael Collins had lived. This past Thursday, Dr. Quincy Lehr discussed the possible outcomes of a Southern victory in the American Civil War.
Nerdy, yes, but these evenings have also turned into almost networking opportunities. I went to the lectures with my friend and neighbor Brianne, a history PhD student here. As it turns out, she actually was a TA for Quincy last semester! He invited us out to a pub after the lecture on Thursday, where I ended up drinking with a bunch of the NUI Galway History faculty, including John Cunningham.
Then, of course, last night I went to The Crane, my official Favorite Pub, with Brianne, where I met several of the other History PhD students, as well as becoming friends with Quincy. It was very fun-- I really enjoyed meeting some new people, as up until now I've only known about four people outside of my MA group. (I do love my MA group, but I see them every day, and sometimes it's nice change things up.) Also, being on friendly terms with the history faculty can only be a good thing. If all goes well, I'm going to be here for three more years after this one. Very few in my MA group are planning on going on for a doctorate, so it's nice to know some people who will be around longer.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
New year, new semester
I just want you to know that you're lucky you even got a 'blog entry today. My internet, always slow, is particularly molasses-in-January pokey today, and I got so frustrated waiting for the 'blog page to load that I almost abandoned it.
Anyway, I am back in Galway, and actually have been for about a week now. The break was lovely-- it was wonderful to see my family and friends-- but it's nice to be back, back to my "real life" of school and reading and Ireland. I was tired, frustrated, and travel-weary after the 12 hours it took me to get from Grand Rapids to Dublin, but as soon as I walked off the plane, I was surrounded by an unquestionable sense of Irishness that felt like a sigh of relief. I really do love this country, and just looking out the window or smelling the air brings an enormous sense of comfort.
This first week back has been largely taken up by the normal "first day of classes" type things-- introductions, short lectures, and syllabi, though thankfully the teachers here don't care to spend much time on the latter and are content to simply hand them out. The most exciting thing that happened was undoubtedly a visit from Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill.
Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill ([nu:lə ni ga:nəl] or "NOO-la NEE GAH-nal") is Ireland's, and therefore the World's, Foremost Irish-Language Poet. She is, simply, a Big Deal when it comes to poetry in Ireland. I actually had the opportunity to meet her once before: on my study abroad in Dublin, she came and talked to our class about the history of Irish. That time, however, I don't think any of our class had had her importance and near-celebrity status impressed on us, and while she read a little of her poetry most of the emphasis wasn't on her. This time, she came to do a private reading for the Irish Studies Centre. Louis De Paor, our fearless leader, arranged it-- I think they might have gone to college together, at University College Cork, back in the '60's. That's what my very tiny knowledge of Irish gathered from Louis' introduction, anyway. Nuala was wonderful. She is very funny and had absolutely no ego about her writing, referring to it as something she had to do, in order to keep sane and express ideas that nag at her. As she put it, she gets a bee in her bonnet about something and it won't go away until she writes about it to her satisfaction.
She read her poetry to us, telling us the stories behind each one. She would read the translation first, frequently stopping to compliment the wonderful way the translator (often Paul Muldoon) had put something-- when asked why she didn't translate her own work, as she is completely bilingual, she replied "I'm not a poet in English!" We are working on some of her work in my Irish class right now, and so I (along with most of my class) brought my copy of her book Spionáin Is Róiseanna ("Gooseberries and Roses") to be signed. When she opened it, it fell open to one of the pages I'd been translating, with glosses written on the lines above the words and translations in the margins. "Oh, that's just my clumsy attempt at translation," I said, embarrassed and worried that she'd actually try to read my gibberish. "No, I love it!" she exclaimed. "Writing in books is wonderful."
Anyway, I am back in Galway, and actually have been for about a week now. The break was lovely-- it was wonderful to see my family and friends-- but it's nice to be back, back to my "real life" of school and reading and Ireland. I was tired, frustrated, and travel-weary after the 12 hours it took me to get from Grand Rapids to Dublin, but as soon as I walked off the plane, I was surrounded by an unquestionable sense of Irishness that felt like a sigh of relief. I really do love this country, and just looking out the window or smelling the air brings an enormous sense of comfort.
This first week back has been largely taken up by the normal "first day of classes" type things-- introductions, short lectures, and syllabi, though thankfully the teachers here don't care to spend much time on the latter and are content to simply hand them out. The most exciting thing that happened was undoubtedly a visit from Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill.
Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill ([nu:lə ni ga:nəl] or "NOO-la NEE GAH-nal") is Ireland's, and therefore the World's, Foremost Irish-Language Poet. She is, simply, a Big Deal when it comes to poetry in Ireland. I actually had the opportunity to meet her once before: on my study abroad in Dublin, she came and talked to our class about the history of Irish. That time, however, I don't think any of our class had had her importance and near-celebrity status impressed on us, and while she read a little of her poetry most of the emphasis wasn't on her. This time, she came to do a private reading for the Irish Studies Centre. Louis De Paor, our fearless leader, arranged it-- I think they might have gone to college together, at University College Cork, back in the '60's. That's what my very tiny knowledge of Irish gathered from Louis' introduction, anyway. Nuala was wonderful. She is very funny and had absolutely no ego about her writing, referring to it as something she had to do, in order to keep sane and express ideas that nag at her. As she put it, she gets a bee in her bonnet about something and it won't go away until she writes about it to her satisfaction.
She read her poetry to us, telling us the stories behind each one. She would read the translation first, frequently stopping to compliment the wonderful way the translator (often Paul Muldoon) had put something-- when asked why she didn't translate her own work, as she is completely bilingual, she replied "I'm not a poet in English!" We are working on some of her work in my Irish class right now, and so I (along with most of my class) brought my copy of her book Spionáin Is Róiseanna ("Gooseberries and Roses") to be signed. When she opened it, it fell open to one of the pages I'd been translating, with glosses written on the lines above the words and translations in the margins. "Oh, that's just my clumsy attempt at translation," I said, embarrassed and worried that she'd actually try to read my gibberish. "No, I love it!" she exclaimed. "Writing in books is wonderful."
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