Northern Italy Trip

5:30 a.m. wakeup call and in an hour and a half our entire UD class was rolling down the road bound for Assisi, the first of the three sites of our Northern Italy trip. We arrived at the charming little town shortly after lunch (I think we’ve all become thoroughly irked at the very idea of sack lunches let alone their taste). We split up into groups and visited the many amazing parts of the Basilica of San Francesco, which is really one church on top of another, not to mention the crypt where St. Francis himself is buried. I know I really came to like the paintings of Giotto, all of which covered the walls of the upper basilica. After our visit, we went to our hotel and checked in. From there, many of us joined Dr. Osborn on an excursion up the mountain rising behind Assisi to visit the hermitage where St. Francis would often go to retreat from the world and pray alone in total silence in a cave up there. Several of us, including Dr. Osborn and me, took off our shoes and socks to take the hike up there barefooted in honor of St. Francis. I only lasted maybe ten minutes mostly because the occasional uncomfortable rocks were making me walk considerably slower than the rest of the group. At least a couple of students made it the whole way there and back without shoes (quite admirable if you ask me). I don’t know how long Dr. Osborn lasted since he surged way ahead of everyone. I was among one of the last to arrive to the hermitage due to stopping along the way to take lots of pictures of the vast land below us and the fiery-leafed trees on the mountain. The walk was about an hour long.

I do recall that the moment I set foot on the property of the hermitage, all became incredibly quiet, as if I had stepped into another realm altogether. The loudest thing to be heard were the pebbles crunching under my feet and the occasional ever-so distant call of a bird. The hermitage was beautiful and exceedingly peaceful. We were even privileged to navigate through the narrow stone passages to visit the small cave where St. Francis prayed. Perfect silence reigned in that little cave and a very subtle holy presence could be felt. It was really amazing! On the other parts of the mountain right beside the hermitage were prayer spots and quiet trails. We even spied the tree that is said to have been the perch of many birds who would come to listen to St. Francis preach. The hour-long decent back to Assisi included a brilliant Italian sunset and the gradual increase of the many town lights far below. Upon our return to Assisi’s center, we went to Mass then were given an opportunity to shop for awhile before dinner. I decided to purchase a wooden Tao, which is the symbol that St. Frances devoutly used and wore. I later had it blessed by Fr. Thomas, our amazing UD alumni and Cistercian who has accompanied us on our big class trips since Greece.

Much to the students’ dismay after dinner, Assisi had no night life. Ever since I came to understand our Fall class to be party-prone and alcohol-happy (though usually not in excess), I figured that they wouldn’t last in a divinely quiet town like Assisi. And they didn’t. The town square just half a block down from where our hotel was located became the site of shrieks of excitement over Italian hot chocolate. For as quiet a place as Assisi is at night, you can practically hear a kicked pebble click on the street from a block away, so you can imagine how much racket they made. I honestly felt that unless we remained perfectly silent or kept out speech down to a whisper, our presence served as a corruption of the serenity of Assisi. Pretty quickly, I separated myself from the group and followed the students from afar as they made their way across the softly lit town to the Basilica of San Francesco. I felt very comfortable walking around alone at night. My only fear was getting lost, but I’ve learned that with my mental map-building (always forward from where I was last), I can easily retrace my steps. It worked! I easily made it to the basilica and, as it turned out, an American choir was performing in the church that evening, so some of us stayed for a short while. After listening to the performance, and taking a lot of night pictures outside, we headed back to the hotel in the peace and quiet.

Next morning some of us went to visit St. Claire’s church down the street from our hotel where we saw the crucifix that spoke to St. Francis. It was MUCH bigger than I originally thought, so that was a pleasant surprise. We then visited another church close by in which St. Francis’ prison is located. That prison cell is where his father kept him for a time. Only a few paces away, through the side doors of the church, is the Bernadone house. We were actually able to go into Francis’ father’s workshop and saw the original door to the house. After those brief adventures, we left Assisi and headed off for Florence.

Upon our arrival, we ate lunch with a panoramic view of Florence (a sight not to be forgotten). After checking into our hotel, we were given orientation tours around Florence by our professors and RAs. My favorite moment of the tour was turning a corner and having my breath literally taken away upon seeing the famous Florentine basilica and duomo. After the tour, which included a great deal of photo-taking, we had our class trip to the Uffizi art museum. Their collection is unbelievable! I could have spent weeks in there, but I only had a few hours. Even so, I used every bit of that time to admire the work of the masters. Botticelli and Caravaggio turned out to be my favorites. I will mention, though, that I came across a large painting of the Slaying of the Innocents which was so saddening, disturbing even, that it actually made me cry when I thought about the real war on women (abortion and contraception) and the culture of death that rages through our society. I’d never been so affected by a painting before, and I’ve most definitely never been driven to tears (well, maybe a little while working on my own art projects in the studio.) After the Uffizi, we went to the Piazza Reppublica (one of the main piazzas in Florence) and explored the various booths that were set up, selling meat, chocolate, spices, cheese, oil, and pastries. You could almost have an entire meal with all the sampling that’s available there. Dinner, a led walk back to the hotel by an RA, and hit the hay.

Day two in Florence was even better! The morning consisted of group tours to various places around the city. My group went with Peter Blute, one of the RAs, to visit the Pitti Palace, one of the largest museums in Europe! Once again, I could have spent forever in there, but we had so many places to see! The very next thing we did was what we’d all wanted to do: climb the duomo to see the whole of Florence. The climb was considerably shorter than the climb up St. Peter’s Basilica dome, but it was rough nonetheless. The view was worth it though. After taking dozens of pictures up there, were climbed down for lunch, which was to be on our own.


As I’d done in Greece, I survived on whatever I’d managed to save from breakfast in the hotel and on whatever food samples I could scavenge at the markets of Piazza Reppublica (yes, Mom, I got my protein in. I promise). From there I followed the leather-shopping students. The leather market has the best smells in the world! There was no way I could afford anything leather, no matter how authentic it was or how badly I wanted it, but the smell was worth every moment. After enjoying the day of wandering around Florence, even running into Dr. Hatlie and his family during the day, we met up with the rest of our classmates at the Accademia, where we had a class on Michelangelo and his masterpiece, David.

I was completely awestruck at Michelangelo’s craft. David was absolutely magnificent to behold. A shocking amount of detail had been employed into the sculpture. What surprised me most were pulsing veins in David’s large hands. You could literally see the energy building up, almost as if the statue were about to move. For me, this sculpture is the pinnacle of perfection in the human figure. It has been my ultimate inspiration for my desire to master the art of drawing the human figure. Furthermore, the piece revealed the splendor of the human body and how beautiful and sacred God created it. Michelangelo certainly understood this and frankly, I believe it too. Don’t let any other giggling student tell you otherwise because they obviously haven’t seen the piece through the lens of God and art (not even the majority of the art students, unfortunately). That latter reason is why I don’t like going on these class trips to see nude art, because of all the crass jokes and giggles that come up. It’s so childish and immature. In this particular excursion, I’ve learned two lessons about class trips like these: 1) ignore the silly children who don’t recognize or appreciate the sanctity of the human person, and 2) to avoid those kids, stick close by the professor giving the lecture since the fewest giggles and jokes are said in front of her. The rest of the evening was pretty much a repeat of the night before, except that after dinner, some of us went on an evening excursion to the Piazza Michelangelo for a panoramic night view of Florence. It was brilliant! Gelato followed, courtesy of UD. Afterwards we slowly dispersed, either to find a bar or go shopping or go to bed. I followed a group of hotel-bound UDers from a distance (I would have preferred to be alone that evening), but because I kept taking so many pictures on the walk back, I ended up separated from them and as fast as I walked, I never caught up with them, nor did I even see them. Even though the RAs had told us to not go alone in the city, I unfortunately had to. It was alright though since I knew my way back to the hotel, long and twisty as the road may have been (I’m really liking my mental maps!) Also, Florence has a less “hostile” feeling than Rome, and I’ve been through Rome several times alone, even at night (most definitely not my favorite thing). In the end, I somehow beat the group I’d been following to the hotel as they didn’t show up for another 10-15 minutes. Who knows how that happened!


The sky was crying hard the following morning. I don’t blame it, because I was going to miss Florence, but I wasn’t nearly as sad as the sky, whose tears drenched us and followed our bus all the way from Florence to Venice. It stopped raining there, thank goodness. The minute we arrived I knew I was going to like Venice, what with all the boats as the means of transportation. We rode a private vapporetto boat from our busses to our hotel, having a laughingly good time feeding the multiplying seagulls who followed our boat (video to come!) The scene literally reminded us of the seagull chase on Finding Nemo. Makes me wonder if the Pixar crew tried what we did…*Oh!* Sorry for daydreaming. Anyway, once we were settled at the hotel, which pleasantly turned out to be a religious guest house with religious statuary and crucifixes everywhere, we went on our orientation tours around Venice. I have never in my life seen streets as confusing as the ones in Venice. It’s extremely easy to get lost. I was at least glad that I could retrace my steps whenever I became lost (that’s for tomorrow though). All of the students had unlimited passes for the public transportation system, which included large vapporetto boats that worked like busses, stopping every 200-400 meters along the Grand Canal and the edges of the island. I was on cloud nine every time I set foot on these boats, and I rode them often, so I definitely made the pass worth every penny. Orientation ended, and some of us went exploring for awhile before Mass. Now the day before we’d arrived in Venice, they’d been experiencing some terrible flooding, and even that morning, the water level had been up, so the entire floor of the church was drenched. Pretty amazing if you ask me. After Mass was dinner, then we headed back to the hotel for bed, opting to take the vapporettos which offer even more exciting views at night, what with the lights on the water and all.

I awoke to the sound of a wailing siren outside, roughly at around 6 a.m. I knew what that sound meant. I was up and out of bed and at the window in a blink. The siren meant that the waters were going to rise that day and that Venice was going to be flooded. They give you a three hour warning with that siren, so when you hear it, you have that much amount of time to either board yourself indoors or suit up for an adventure on the watery streets of Venice. Literally, they were swimming in St. Mark's square the day before. Anyway...

Our second day in Venice was not unlike our second day in Florence. It started with a group tour somewhere, then it was free time for the rest of the day until dinner. My group was led by Dr. Nelson, our philosophy instructor, who toured us through the naval museum which featured model after model of the entire history of boats, missiles and warheads. As one of the guys pointed out before our group set off, I was the only girl in the entire group. “Hey, that’s fine. I like boats!” was my response, although I will admit it did feel slightly awkward. Still, it was kind of nice to deal with boats and explosive stuff for a change. Learning about the history of some of these incredible boats and the battles they went through were jaw-dropping. At the top floor of the museum, arguably the best room there, were all of the old boss missiles. Ironically, the room right beside it (the one which Dr. Nelson told us before we entered that it was the best room in the museum) was filled with cases of sea shells. I’m not kidding. But these shells were actually jewels to behold. You’ve never seen such exotic shells of such strange shape, color and size.

Wrapping up the museum trip, I decided to head off and explore Venice on my own. I explored St. Mark’s square, which was half flooded from earlier, and visited the Church of St. Mark’s (I missed seeing his relics). I then hopped on a vapporetto and traveled counterclockwise around Venice, stopping at whatever stop looked interesting. I debated about visiting Murano, which is known for its glass blowing, as I was unsure of the amount of time I would have to explore all of Venice by vapporetto. I eventually decided to take that trip to the island where I explored the many shops, watched some glass blowing, and eventually purchased a small glass orchid, blue in color (not a bad deal for 8 euros). I also made sure to visit the Byzantine-styled church of Santa Maria and San Donato Cathedral where there are some real dragon bones (see larger picture below). The story goes that a dragon was going about the town, spitting venom into the wells and poisoning the water. St. Donato came along and found the dragon and when he spat on it, the dragon turned to ash, leaving behind only a few bones. The bones included a couple of ribs and what might be a leg bone. Maybe dragons did exist…

  

After exploring Murano, I stopped by Cemetary Island which is on the way back to the Venetian mainland. The island is literally a giant cemetery with different areas reserved for Catholics, Protestants, Jews, Muslims, etc. It was huge, and there wasn’t even remotely enough time for me to explore the whole island without missing out on exploring the rest of Venice. After maybe half an hour, I took the vapporettos back to Venice and explored the rest of its outskirts until I reached the train station, then headed back down the Grand Canal to the Rialto Bridge to visit the shops around there. Venice is really beautiful at night. When you follow the main roads with bright lights, it’s fairly easy to find your way around. I eventually met up with my class for dinner. Even though they announced that they were extending curfew hours to 1 am, I opted to go to bed earlier than later, though not before sailing one last time on the vapporettos to a deep southern island of Venice I had not yet visited. I stayed only on the water though. The night was foggy, but it made for a very cool experience in the cold of the night.

 

I found out the next morning that there were lots of problems with heavy drinking that last night in Venice, even sending one student to the emergency room. That caused the faculty and staff to decide to ban public drinking on campus for the students as a safety precaution. It didn’t bother me in the least since I’m not a big alcohol consumer, but it seemed like a grueling punishment for nearly all of the other students. *shakes head* Silly children students. I think they deserved it though, if you ask me. Alcohol had become so objectified at this point. Why can’t people learn to have fun without alcohol and just appreciate the city for what it is?

The bus ride home was incredibly long. Our tailbones were screaming by the end of the trip, but the adventure had been worth it. Back to studying…

A Tribute to the RAs

Just today, I was having an inexplicable desire to be up there in the ranks with the RAs. I really love the Rome RAs and laud them as my heroes. In some ways, I think they personify the Catholic Church insomuch as they set reasonable rules for the students to follow and they have to endure scorn behind their backs (trust me, I’ve seen and heard it coming from whining students many times both in Irving and in Rome). Through all the ups and downs of their job, the RAs always -- ALWAYS -- manage pull through with exemplary selflessness and patience.

My parents were (and still are) my constant role models back at home, but when I came to UD the RAs took up that critically important role. There is not a day that goes by that I do not find myself admiring the RAs for all the hard work they do. I can only imagine the many long hours of hard work and countless sacrifices they make without the students’ knowledge, all in order to make campus life better for the students who may never realize how much they need their RAs.

I pity the student who expresses animosity and bitterness at the very mention of an RA who has dutifully performed their task in upholding the campus rules. Even worse, I feel badly when the students make fun of the RAs who are enforcing reasonable rules and safety measures, much to the disdain of the sometimes rebellious student. It is for those reasons that I praise the RAs as my heroes. I don’t just want to be like them; I want to BE them! I really can’t sing their praises enough!

Even though most of the RAs are technically only 2 or 3 years older than me, they feel like the older brothers and sisters I never had, all of whom I can go to for advice, wisdom, and good company. They have contributed to some of my fondest memories and experiences of my Rome semester. By their example they have helped me become a better, more mature person over the course of the semester, and for that, I must thank them from the bottom of my heart.

It is with teary eyes and a nostalgic smile that I close this small tribute to the Rome RAs. I am sincerely going to miss each one of them, all of who have wordlessly inspired me to apply to become an RA in Irving. I will never forget my RA heroes of Rome.

Thank you Ryan, Ellen, Tony, Peter and Sara for all that you have done to make the UD Rome semester the greatest experience of my life!

With warmest regards,
Kathleen R.

P. S. All of the above applies to all RAs everywhere. Thanks for being an example to us all!

Retreat! Run for Your Lives! Wait, Let Me Pass Out For a Second. Okay, Let's Go!

10-day ends and what happens? We get slaughtered by homework, papers and tests. Day in and day out, it’s nothing but constant studying, not to mention the pressure of the presidential election which is adding to the anxiety. The Tuesday after we returned from 10-day, our Theology paper was due, and the following Monday was going to include an Art History quiz, Tuesday would bring a Western Civilization test, Wednesday would be the Philosophy exam and Thursday we would leave for our Northern Italy trip. Stressed out yet? *cue Beethoven’s 5^th* Dun dun dun duuuun. DUN DUN DUN DUUUNNNNNN! Well the Theology paper wasn’t too bad. At least that weekend I would go on the women’s silent retreat UD was offering.

The retreat was fantastic. It was located at a beautiful retreat house located on the side of a mountain with a perfect view overlooking Lake Albano and the entire city of Rome further out. It literally felt like being outside of the world for a couple of days. Everyone had their own room too. The food and accommodations were fabulous and we had 24 hour adoration/exposition. I always learn something new on retreat. This time I learned about the Ignatian way of Meditative and Contemplative prayer. After all that I’ve read about these methods of prayer, I am really hyped about trying them out. One of my favorite parts of the retreat included saying the Rosary with Fr. Benedict Groeschel and Simonetta (ipod) and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy in song (also ipod) while overlooking the nighttime view of Rome and Lake Albano. It was so beautiful. By the end of the retreat, I think I was the only one who immediately missed the silence the moment everyone was allowed to speak again. I really value and enjoy the silence and solitude, so it’s always hard at the end of a retreat, even if my friends whom I haven’t seen in ages are on that same retreat. Yeah, I think I’ll always stand alone on that one.

I didn’t study during retreat, so the tests the following days were killers. Actually I’ll take that back. Monday’s Art & Arch quiz was pretty easy, but Tuesday’s West. Civ. test was very intense. It’s the short amount of time we have to complete the test that causes the most pressure on the students. Considering the short amount of time, I think I did alright on the first half of the test, but I’m still pretty shaky about the second half. Whatever grade I receive on this test, I’m determined to seize and destroy the final test without question or hesitation.

Wednesday rolled around and I didn’t want to be told the presidential election results until after the Philosophy exam so as not to add to my mental distractions. That didn’t work out so well as the election results slipped out in the form of shaking heads and soft dismayed whispers amongst the disappointed students and instructor. And that was literally just seconds before the professor handed us the exam. No! Wait! That didn’t just happen! Our religious freedoms…marriage…the sanctity of life…all cast into the furnace to be turned to ash? I tried to proceed with the exam for the given hour and a half of writing, but I found myself stopping every other sentence, even though I knew the material almost to the letter, finding myself filled with the fear of what dark future might lie ahead for the American people. Civil war? Riots? Terrorist attacks? Religious criminals? The rise of complete governmental power and the total persecution and annihilation of all morality and religion? It was as if I was suddenly trapped in a nightmare that showed no promise of me ever waking up. Almost halfway through my responses to the question (I was doing alright on time), I came across a stumbling block. Aristotle’s three causes of the soul. Oh, why couldn’t I remember the second one? Aagh! Brain was racing. I was already mentally spent from all the heavy-duty studying we’d been doing the past few days and I was on overload. I’d slept enough the night before (I promise I was in bed shortly after midnight), but I hadn’t eaten breakfast (I’d survived plenty of UD exams and tests without eating prior). I was hot though I’d taken off my jacket, I was on a time limit, I was stressed about the election results and the future of America, and I didn’t know how to answer the next part of the exam question, and I couldn’t continue writing the essay without answering this part first. Too much pressure! Lightheadedness…shallow breathing…I’m not going to beat the faint this time. This wasn’t the first time I’d faint during a test (recall the ACT fainting incident, complete with concussion), but at least this time I knew what to expect. To avoid speaking to my classmates during a test, I put my head on my desk and positioned myself in such a way that I would ensure my safety of not falling out of my chair like I had at the ACT. I let my arm hang off the edge of the desk and clutched my pencil, knowing that the moment I passed out it would fall from my hand and my classmates would know something was wrong. I did feel the pencil slip just a second or two before I passed out. The last thing I remember thinking was, “I’ve always wanted to pass out upon hearing bad news…”

[…and then I saw the Forms…] (philosophy students will get that one)

…light…sight…head still on the desk…then upon realizing I was coming out of a faint, made a mental arm pump, “Yes! Did it!” Fainted upon hearing bad news: check! More or less. At least I disappeared from the nightmare for a few seconds. Gosh, I love telling these fainting stories. Meanwhile, pretty much every student within a two seat radius from me bolted forward to revive me. My next thought: “No! Go back to writing your exams. Save yourselves!” Oh, here’s another good part. This was the first time I’d ever had some water splashed onto my face as a means of reviving me. I’d always wondered if that worked. Let me tell you, it definitely helps! It actually makes the fainting experience more epic because as you wipe the water from your face you feel like you’ve gone through an ocean of timelessness and have come out refreshed. I was still pretty shaken from the trauma of, well, everything. The RAs came to help me as I urged the students who had helped me to hurry back to their exams. The poor professor, who had apparently never had this happen to him, made sure I was okay before the RAs took me out of the room and said I could finish my test later after I returned from our class trip to the Vatican Museum that afternoon. I recovered in the student lounge over a few snacks for a quick blood sugar boost, all the while praying for the other students who were still testing, hoping that my incident hadn’t slowed them down much.

I wasn’t myself for the rest of the day. I don’t think many of us were anyway. The news of the presidency left a rain cloud hanging over the majority of the students and faculty for the rest of the day. Listening to Mozart’s Lacrimosa with another student seemed appropriate while a couple of students chanted “Obama 2012! Four more years!” at the back of our bus on our way to the Vatican Museums. They received little to no recognition by the rest of the students on board. I wasn’t sure why I teared up. Maybe it was because I already felt the persecutions against conservatives already beginning…maybe because I knew of the terrible danger looming over the heads of the American people, particularly the Catholics and all people who valued morality…maybe out of compassion for the people, particularly Catholics, who lauded Obama and did not understand how hostile he was toward Christian values…whatever the reason, I was happy to be heading toward the heart of the Bride of Christ on such a dark day.

The Vatican Museum and Sistine Chapel were unbelievable. So much art in such little time! Gorgeous sculptures, detailed paintings, intricate tapestries, and ancient pottery. I only wish I could have been able to appreciate it more if I had not been so out of it after my faint. Usually after I faint, I’m really lethargic for the rest of the day and I’m just not myself. In all honesty, I don’t think very many students were able to enjoy it as much as they could have due to the heavy beating they’d had on the hard studying for the past few days. Nevertheless, the experience was very memorable. I mean, Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel characters pop right out of the ceiling. They look so real!

I returned to campus after our Vatican Museum visit and was able to pick up where I’d left off on the test. I was better prepared this time and was able to finish almost five minutes before my time was up. I thanked God! All that was left for me to do was pack up for our Northern Italy trip, and our wakeup call was going to be at 5:30 a.m!

10 Day: There and Back Again

I know it’s been ages since Part I of the 10-day adventure blog post, but at long last, here is part 2.

Day 5 - Tuesday 23rd

I woke up thoroughly refreshed after several rough days. After a short breakfast, I attended the Monastic Office which was like the Liturgy of the Hours, all in French of course, but it was spoken, chanted and sung by the nuns, complete with a kind of large lap harp. The Monastic Office was just heavenly and lasted a good 45 minutes or so. After that we went off on our adventure through Paris.

Astonishingly, we crossed paths with some of our fellow UD Romers on the metro. It was a very pleasant surprise. From there, we visited Notre Dame, which was magnificent to behold. I had wanted to visit Chartres Cathedral (my favorite gothic church in the world) about an hour’s train ride away, but it wouldn’t have worked out. But Notre Dame is definitely a close second in my book for a gothic church, what with its lavish detail and breathtaking rose windows. From there we’d intended to visit the Louvre art museum, but as it turned out, it was closed on Tuesdays. I know, another heartbreaker. Nothing is going to be perfect. We did shortly explore a little of the gardens next to the Louvre, which were quite charming.

More walking and we saw the famed Opera House (cue Phantom of the Opera overture), and then we saw three incorruptible saints within the same hour -- St. Vincent de Paul, and then St. Catherine Laboure who was at the one address I memorized since childhood: 140 Rue de Bac, Paris. To our surprise, the third incorruptible saint was there: St. Louise de Marillac, the co-founder of St. Catherine’s order, the Daughters of Charity. From there, we visited the Eiffel Tower once again, this time staying long enough until it sparkled at dusk. It was quite impressive and incredibly exciting! After a satisfying day of travel, we ate a quick dinner at McDonald’s (they have a euro menu too) and returned to the guest house. We were all very tired from all the walking around, but the excitement of living a hallway away from a grand church was enough to keep me wide awake to attend 10pm Mass and stay for a silent rosary in the near-darkness as I had the night before. Some things are worth repeating. If only it could have lasted all night…

 

 

Day 6 - Wednesday 24th

Next morning was a repeat of the previous morning with early breakfast and the Monastic Office. We checked out of the guest house, eternally grateful for having stayed at such a glorious place, and headed off for the train station for a half-day of traveling. Despite a couple of delayed trains, our guardian angels made sure to get us to Kaiserslaughtern, Germany on time to be picked up by some good friends of mine who are stationed in Germany. The family-friends of ours were extremely kind and generous to us. They made us feel right at home, even with their three little children running around, and fed us our first real dinner in a long while, complete with an exceedingly delicious sparkling white sweet wine from Trier, Germany, the place we were to visit the following day. Oh, and we even tried some German and Czech chocolates, which were fabulous. It was really great to be sleeping in a cozy home.

Day 7 - Thursday 25th

It’s pretty rainy in Germany, or at least it is in Ottenbach. The hour-long morning drive to Trier, Germany was pretty misty as well, but that was more in the mountains. Once we arrived in Trier, we explored three of the churches at a leisurely pace. They were lavishly decorated and were mostly if not completely gothic in architecture. Not even a photograph could capture the majesty of the church.

By the time we were done, it was lunchtime. Prices for food in small German towns are surprisingly cheap. I mean, who buys a deliciously large hot pretzel for 49 cents? Or a satisfying fish and chips meal for three euro? (okay, more like 2,99 without tax) Great food! After that, we wandered throughout Trier, finally coming across the house of Karl Marx. Yes, THE Karl Marx, the father of communism. His house, which includes a courtyard and a garden in the back, is a museum now which you can explore and read about his life. Pretty intense stuff! I found the politics and history a bit difficult to chew, but it was nonetheless interesting.

Afterwards, we visited Constantine’s basilica, that is the basilica in the architectural sense, not the church sense. Constantine’s basilica is now a protestant church, but still retains is ancient aura. The Aula Palatina building next to it was very beautiful on the outside (we didn’t go in), and the gardens in front of it were bright green. We ended our expedition on the other side of the gardens in the charming park with a long duck pond and vibrantly colored fall leaves, enjoying the scenery from a park bench. Our host came to pick us up, but not before taking us out to eat at a restaurant with delicious German food. We arrived home tired but very pleased with the events of the day.

Day 8 - Friday 26th

Next morning we all visited the American base which was pretty neat, particularly when we went shopping. It was like being in the United States for a few minutes. After going back home and sitting down to a nice warm lunch on a chilly day, we took the hour-long drive to Heidelberg, Germany. We first visited the castle on the side of the mountain overlooking the charming red-roofed town and the snaking river and bridge below. On the other side of the river was another mountain covered with fiery multi-colored trees. It was probably one of my most singularly favorite sights in my European adventures. It definitely appears in my top 10 favorite sights (be sure to look for a top 10 countdown blog post of my favorite sights at the end of the semester).

Anyhow, we explored the castle, the apothecary museum inside, and saw the biggest beer keg in the world! Ending the castle visit, we drove down into the town and visited the bridge, did a little shopping (all window shopping for me as usual), ate dinner at Pizza Hut, which turned out to taste a dozen times better than the American version, and returned home for our last night in Germany.

Day 9 - Saturday 27th

2 a.m. wakeup call. Or, more like 2:30 a.m. because my guardian angel was slacking on its duties of waking me up. *ahem!* Our hosts did the work of being our guardian angels and woke us up for the hour-long drive to Frankfurt airport. During the night drive, it started to snow! It didn’t stop even when we arrived at the airport. Unfortunately, it was not the kind of snow that sticks to the ground, but it was still pretty exciting, more so when I watched the snowflakes collecting on my window on the airplane and melting away as we ascended for the 2 - 2 ½ hour long flight to Rome. Once in Rome, we made our way into the city and ate at The Scholar’s Lounge, an Irish pub, for lunch. We stuck around for a few hours, trying to sort out where we would stay for the night. Eventually, we decided to bite the bullet and stay at a hostel down the street from the Termini train station. It ended up costing us nearly 40 euro each, though we had been led to thinking we were staying for 20 euro each, and two of us were going to be staying in a mixed dorm, but thank the merciful Lord that the two people who were already occupying it were women, though they were the slightly eerie, tattoo-covered college party girls. They weren’t there when we walked into our room and they arrived much later that night, making minimal noise and spending most of their time on their iphones when they weren’t sleeping. I was so exhausted and wiped out from the frustration of getting directions, running around with heavy luggage, and having to pay what felt like an arm and a leg for my hostel that I just crashed and went right to sleep the minute we checked into the hostel and found our room. Oh, and it was only 3 p.m. when I went to sleep. I slept soundly and didn’t wake up until one of my traveling buddies woke me at a quarter to 9 p.m. to tell me that there was a free pasta party downstairs which was ending in fifteen minutes. I was planning on skipping dinner since I’d paid so much for the hostel and I had been sleeping most of the day anyway, so I could have lasted until morning, but it looked like God was taking care of us. The pasta party was at the small restaurant right next door to the hostel, and the only stipulation was that you buy a drink and get free pasta. We each purchased a 2 euro water (really, you’d think that water was scarce at prices like that!) and received generous helpings of pasta pomodoro (tomato). I went right back to bed after that, feeling just a little better. Daylight savings time began that night, so we turned the clock back and looked forward to savoring an extra hour of sleep. Still, I remember the last words I mouthed that night to my guardian angel right before drifting off to sleep: “Okay. I have a Papal Mass to attend tomorrow morning and I really don’t want to miss it. I’m sure you don’t want to miss it either, right? So I REALLY need you to wake me up on time this time. No slacking off now, okay? Alright. Thanks a bunch. Goodnight!”

Day 10 - Sunday 28th

Woke up shortly before my traveling buddy’s phone alarm went off at 5 a.m. “Thanks a ton, Guardian Angel!” We were up and rolling in no time. We checked out of the hostel and headed right to Termini, down to the baggage holding area. We had to wait until 6 a.m. for them to open, but we had our luggage checked in for holding while we attended the Papal Mass. We arrived at St. Peter’s Square a good half-hour before the scheduled time to meet with the priest to collect our tickets to get into the Mass. We found him right on schedule, collected our tickets and made it safely into St. Peter’s Basilica. Following Father’s advice as he’d handed us our ticket, I grabbed the seat closest to the main aisle where the Pope himself would pass through. As I sat reciting what must have been the 50^th rosary for me within those 10 days, I found myself relieved to be reunited with my fellow UDers, safe and at home in the heart of the Catholic Church after a long, hard 10-day. Well, at least half of the trip was stressful and hard. The Papal Mass marked the closing of the 50^th anniversary of the Second Vatican Council. It was even broadcasted on EWTN! Pretty exciting! The best part was being there watching the hundreds of priests and bishops pass me and proceed up the aisle to the main altar. And yes, I saw Pope Benedict. He was at least five to eight feet away from me! He blessed me and my companions too! The Mass was a perfect ending to 10-day. At my urging, immediately after Mass, we headed right back home to campus, arriving a good hour and a half after the Mass had ended. And yes, as I’d said I would after the half-traumatic 10-day, I did kiss the campus ground upon our arrival, almost laughing hysterically.

10-day was a pretty intense adventure. I really learned a lot about myself on this trip. Some of my flaws were confirmed on this trip, such as my impatience and the reluctance of taking on the role of leadership. I even discovered faults that I didn’t even realize I had, such as anxiety, doubt, and mistrust. All the same, I was spiritually strengthened by the experience. I know I prayed the Rosary a great deal more than I have in awhile, I talked a LOT more with my Guardian Angel (though I’ve already had pretty good communication with it), and I learned that trust in God is essential for survival. Speaking of survival, I found this to be one of my greatest strengths on the trip. I’m already a very thrifty person, but my frugality was taken to a new level on this trip as I was careful, almost to an extreme at times, when making financial decisions for myself and my group. I also survived on whatever food was available, even if it wasn’t very filling. Don’t worry, I made sure I received enough nutrients in the end. I turned out to be pretty good with navigation, even though I doubted myself for awhile. I found I have a good sense of the general layout of a city or at least the general direction of where things are, and I’m actually better at navigating smaller areas and small towns than huge cities (for one of my traveling buddies, it was the other way around). I actually chart a mental map in my head as I go, so in some ways I don’t really need a map. That skill has come in handy time and time again. I was also the interpreter/language-link for my group. I was amazed at how much my group valued my bilingualism, even if the Spanish is not as refined as I’d like it to be. I found the Spanish to be pretty useless for a good 75-80% of the trip (they don’t speak much Spanish in France and they speak lots of English in Germany). Even so, knowing a Romantic language made understanding French just a little easier, and it has also made understanding Italian a whole lot easier.

I also discovered that I actually have better street smarts than I initially thought I’d had. I could always tell when and how to keep a low profile, whom to avoid, how to blend in with the crowd and become nearly invisible (an uncanny talent I’ve already possessed), and knew how to evade every last street vendor, gypsy and pickpocket without being ripped off. On several unfortunate occasions, specifically in Paris, France, my fellow traveling buddies fell prey to street “vendors” who usually forced them into paying outrageous sums for the most ridiculous “souvenirs,” if they can even be called that. For me, fortunately, I adopted the “rude” attitude and practiced it unceasingly, wearing an assertive, firm and (at times) almost angry expression when passing by a potential money-snatching vendors. My singular moment of glory on that aspect was actually in Rome after the Papal Mass when we had to purchase some metro tickets from the kiosk and a lady came along as the tickets were printing and she tried swiping as they printed. I literally smacked her hand out of the way and exclaimed “NO!” Yep, I even surprised myself at how easily I did that. She spoke all Italian, but I understood that she was trying to get us to give her the tickets because she “needed them.” “How much are you asking for them?” she asked in Italian, but I wouldn’t hear of or acknowledge a word of it. When she remotely attempted to swipe our change as it came out of the kiosk, I pushed my aggressive attitude, completely blocking her from the deposit slot. I was so aggravated that I forgot any Italian and talked back in Spanish. She didn’t leave us alone until I’d collected our tickets and change and stormed off, my buddies trailing close behind. Yeah, I think I’ve got these people figured out…for the most part. Even the most seasoned traveler has been pick-pocketed at least once. I’ll do everything I can to avoid that.

With all that I’ve learned about myself on 10-day, in a way I feel I’m a different person. As the saying goes: “Know thyself.” I still have a long way to go with that. Let the journey continue!

10 Day: An Unexpected Journey...Which Was Technically Expected

There and Rome Again: A UD Romer's Tale, by the Wandering Sapphire.

Now.

Where to begin?

Ah, yes!

"Concerning 10 Day"

UD students have been living and studying on the Rome campus for many hundreds (okay dozens) of days, though they are not quite so content to ignore the wonders of Europe at their doorstep. That is why 10 Day exists. 10 Day consists of travel and freedom for UD Rome students. They are given 10 days to travel with their friends to whatever cities and countries they please. The following is a partial account of the happenings of the Wandering Sapphire:

Day 1 - Thursday, 18th
Thursday evening. I can't afford 10 Day. I almost don't even want to do it. My nerves have been on edge all day, worrying about the costs of 10 day. But I'm doing it anyway, only because UD Rome campus shuts down and forces you to travel. My company consists of myself and two other girls (I'll leave them unnamed for the time being). We're using Eurail Passes, so we will be traveling by train. This evening turned into a mess since we didn't realize that we had to reserve our Eurail passes so far in advance. Bad planning on our part. We're fairly flexible with planning locations and trips, so it's not going to hurt too much if we miss something. Proposed itinerary (in order):

1) Lourdes
     -visit Grotto/church
2) Germany (we'll find stuff to do near the Kaiserslautern area where my friends live)
3) Paris
     - Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame
4) Chartres
     -Chartres Cathedral
5) Perugia
     -Chocolate Festival
6) Rome/Vatical City
     -Papal Mass

Not a bad itinerary, huh? Let's see how things turn out. In the first place, two of us had wanted to visit Barcelona and the other wanted to visit Prague, but before 10 day even started, we knew it wouldn't work out with our 5-day Eurail pass, which meant we could only use 5 days of traveling however spaced out we wanted. One of the girls and I reserved and bought our tickets for the night train to get from Rome to Genoa, Italy. The third girl in our group missed the reservation and found she would have to wait until the following morning to catch the first train to Genoa. We took the night train so as not to waste our tickets, but not before promising to wait up for our friend in Genoa. It was a very interesting experience sleeping on a train overnight, sharing a tight space with three other women who all spoke different languages. We ended up communicating with each other in a mixture of English, Italian, Spanish and a bit of French. We managed pretty well if you ask me. The night was not as restful though as I frequently woke up out of fear of missing our stop in Genoa. We eventually made it the following morning, both tired.

The REAL Day 1 - Friday 19th
This is the official first day of 10 Day for UD students. We just left a little early. We two girls sat groggily in the station, taking turns dozing and waiting for our friend to show up on the first train from Rome, which was scheduled to arrive roughly at 11:15am. Sure enough, it arrived on time and we met up, ate a light lunch (or at least I did), then continued on our train rides to get to Lourdes. I won't bore you with the details of the all-day train rides. It was pretty tiring, stressful, and occasionally nightmarish when we were making sure we arrived on the right platform, had the correct train number, etc. I was so exhausted by evening time that I ended up skipping dinner. I may have eaten an apple I had stockpiled from the cafeteria back on campus the day before, but I can't remember. By the end of the day, we reserved a night train to take us from Nice, France to Toulouse where we would connect to the train to Lourdes.

Day 2 - Saturday 20th
The night train worked out perfectly as we arrived to a wet and rainy Lourdes at around 7am, with enough time to eat a light breakfast and reserve/purchase our tickets to get from Lourdes to Paris for the following day. We were originally planning on leaving Lourdes on Sunday morning so that we would arrive in the afternoon in Paris, but those tickets were 99 euros! Not happening! We'd already used up two of our five days worth of travel, so things were getting tight. Somehow, miraculously, we were able to get a train for about 18 euros per person. This train would leave Sunday afternoon around 5:30pm or so and would arrive in Paris about 45 minutes after midnight. This meant that we would have to rough the night out in the Paris train station before getting to our place at the monastery guest house we were trying to reserve (more on that later). It wasn't the most ideal plan, but it was better than spending nearly 100 euros. We moved on to looking for our reserved hostel which we found quite easily. Lourdes is fairly small, but has that big city feel in certain areas, although it isn't altogether overwhelming. After quickly settling into our rooms, we decided that it was time we had a break from traveling and stress and go check out the grotto. It was closed. Gated off. Locked. The river was swollen and rushing with murky water, flooding the grotto and so no one could go visit that day. It was incredibly unfortunate, but we prayed that we would be able to see it the following day. I bought a 50 cent "Mary bottle" (maybe 6-8 ounces worth) to collect some of the spring water to show a bit of trust that we would see it the next day. To alleviate some of that pain of not seeing the grotto that day, we did get to see St. Bernadette's house as well as attend the anticipatory Mass (in French, of course!) at her parish, which was a grand church. By the end of the day, specifically after Mass, I realized that this was becoming a spiritual journey, not merely a 10 day sightseeing adventure. After having seen a large statue of Our Lady of Lourdes just outside our hostel window, I went to bed saying the Chaplet and the Rosary, feeling a bit better about not having seen the grotto that day and recognizing God's providence in having out train leave later the next day so that we might be able to see the grotto the next morning.

Day 3 - Sunday 21st
I'm staying hopeful, even thought it's raining outside. Skip breakfast. On to the grotto. And...well, the river was still flooded, but not as badly as it was yesterday. The gates were still closed. However, people were going along the gate all the way up to the church, which was high enough away from the river. We followed the people and found that the side gate was open, allowing pilgrims to visit the church and such. We looked through the gate overlooking the river and saw how the river had flooded the grotto. A great deal of it was still a few feet deep in water, so there was no way we would be able to see it, at least not more than the last four or five rows of benches. "All I ask now, Lord, is to take home some of the water from the spring as my family requested." Just then I see people going by with some of those liter jugs and "Mary bottles" filled with spring water. How...? I inquired about the water to a passing Spaniard woman, who directed me to long line of people who were waiting to access the fountain just across the street from the church. Apparently there is a pipe system that directs some of the spring water up from its source and delivers it to the street level for the public. Perfect! We had plenty of time, so I waited in line a good half hour before I finally collected my bottle of water. A very memorable moment involved some Spanish women who were carrying their liter jugs for collecting the water and were waiting in line behind me. They asked me if the small "Mary bottle" was all I was going to collect the water in, to which I replied, yes, but I added that that was I was happy to receive even just that little bit. I was rather touched when they admired me for deeply valuing such a small amount of the spring water. After collecting the water, we went shopping for our lunch and dinner meal at the grocery store (which we'd done exactly the same the day before). All of our meals in Lourdes consisted of French bread, salami slices, and saved apples from the UD campus. It was super cheap, but  when that's all you've got, you'll take it.

We then waited at the train station for a couple of hours, and noticed that we had somehow ended up in first class (it showed up on our boarding passes). It was a really nice upgrade. Unfortunately, our train only moved a a few dozen meters before stopping and having everyone get off since it could not go anywhere due to something being in the tracks. Good grief! Everything that could go wrong kept going wrong for us. We later figured out that the water from the river had become so bad it had flooded the tracks up ahead. So we could no longer take the train from Lourdes to Bordaux to Paris. We would have to go in the opposite direction, back to Toulouse and take a night train to Paris. This was definitely a blessing because we still had first class on the train to Toulouse and we received a night train to Paris without having to pay anything extra. They even gave us two collation boxes of snacks and food for having switched trains on us and having left so late. This provided us with enough food for breakfast the next morning and an abundance of water. This night train was also tight, but a little easer to sleep on since our stop in Paris was the end of the course, so we wouldn't have to worry about missing our stop. Still, sleeping on a train is not very restful or deep. Sleeping in Lourdes was definitely more restful.

Day 4 - Monday 22nd
Perfect timing! We arrived in Paris around 7am with enough time to organize some 12 euro train tickets (praise God!) using our Eurail passes to get from Paris to Kaiserslautern, Germany for Wednesday. Next thing was to find the monastery guest house for staying the next two nights in Paris. We found it soon enough, but unfortunately, the nuns who took care of the reservations (which were all done by email, which we'd done) would not be there until 8:30pm, and it was only 2pm. This meant we would have to drag our luggage around Paris all day, which we unfortunately had to do. It wasn't too bad for me since I had brought only a backpack, but after so many minutes, the backpack starts to become heavy and puts a strain on my back. Darn, I knew I should have packed only 4 outfits instead of 6, even if they were layered. With so much stress, worry and adrenaline, I grow tired. That was me for the rest of the afternoon, worrying that we might not get our room in the monastery guest house since we had not received a reply to our email in regards to staying there for 2 nights. I discovered on this trip, however, that whenever I'm anxious or nervous like that and I say the Rosary, my nerves cool off quite a bit if not completely. I must have said all twenty decades of the Rosary by the end of each day since Lourdes, if that helps to describe how anxious I was.

We saw the Eiffel Tower, though it wasn't so enjoyable due to fatigue. We tried locating a McDonald's since we knew they had WiFi as we needed to get a translation in French down to explain our situation to the nuns. We knew there was one near the monastery, but we couldn't find it. God kept sending us one angel after another, often in the form of an older Frenchman or woman who would either point us in the right direction or even walk us to our destination. He did it this time and so many other times, always right when we needed help. Once we ate dinner there at McDonald's (yes, it tastes exactly like the American McDonald's burgers) and got our translations down, we headed back to the monastery. Stairs...so many stairs. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the luggage we'd had to carry. An angel or two helped us carry some of the luggage part of the way up the steps. Anyway, once we had reached the guest house right on time, we met with one of the nuns, who practically interviewed us before giving us the room, asking questions about where we were from, what we were doing in Paris, what we were studying, what we wanted to do in life, and of course, if we loved Jesus. "With all my heart!!" Or at least, that was my reaction after such a difficult four days with finally a really REALLY good thing coming. The nuns told us that they usually only allow people to stay for just one night, but because we'd asked and because they had room, there were going to allow us both nights for 9 euros the first night, including breakfast, and 7 euros for the second night (no need for new bed sheets), also including breakfast. They explained to us that they had breakfast as 7:30am, Monastic Office at 8am, and a 10pm Mass every night with adoration following, and we were welcome to adoration for an hour...two hours...four hours..."however long you like," said the nun. YES!!! I can barely describe how happy I was.

The guest house was used as a kind of retreat house of sorts, with the dining room downstairs, the rooms on the second floor and on the third floor was a passageway which connected the guest house to the church, which was most grand. It was beautifully decorated with candles everywhere along the sides, a massive sanctuary, a huge echoing dome and fantastic acoustics. They had a 10pm Mass, which we attended despite our tiredness, as we felt we owed God a special thanks for getting us through so many difficulties and hardships during the first four days of our trip. After that Mass, they kick people out unless you have the red slip that was provided to you when you signed in to stay at the guest house. It is a most amazing feeling when just you and a handful of other people are in a huge church, sitting in silence with the Eucharist exposed for adoration all night long. It was particularly nice when they turned out all the lights in the church except for the ones illuminating the golden monstrance, altar, and podium and a gentle light illuminating the first few rows of seats. It was incredibly tempting to stay up for several hours in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, but I was tired and we had a long day ahead of us, so I kept it down to a Rosary of thanksgiving and some prayers of adoration. Needless to say, I went to bed extremely happy, feeling much more at peace. But I still have a long way to go on my faith journey. I can hardly wait for the Monastic Office in the morning...and breakfast. Only one of my meals on this trip so far had been satisfyingly filling. The rest always left me hungry and anxious for the next meal. But I guess 10 day is all about survival. Let's see how we fare in our real day of exploring Paris tomorrow!

To be continued...
[photos to come soon]

Ireland: Bliss and Disaster

Ireland is the place to be! It is home to the friendliest people in Europe (and maybe the entire world), it has a rich history, people talk with the most amazing accents, and it’s all GREEN!!!!

We (that is me and three other UD students, whom I will leave unnamed for now) flew via Ryanair to Dublin, Ireland on Friday the 12^th in the morning. We landed around lunchtime and took the bus from the airport to Dublin’s town centre (<< yes, I am going to spell everything UK style on this particular post.) It was cold in Ireland, but we’d expected as much. It was like autumn weather, in the 50s and 60s in Fahrenheit, and we were able to see all the green of the grass and the hills AND enjoy the changing colors of the leaves on the trees. We walked around for awhile, passing the famed Trinity College, before stopping for a mid-afternoon lunch (I wonder what that would be for a hobbit?) and had traditional fish and chips. Yum! After that, we set about searching for a hostel. Now, I had joined this Ireland-bound group as a kind of “tag-along” so they were making all the decisions. I just wanted to see Ireland before it got too cold and before the semester was over. I had thought that they had previously booked a hostel, but apparently they hadn’t. They’d expected to just pop in on a hostel and be granted a room, based on past experiences. What we didn’t know was that there was this huge soccer game going on between Ireland and Germany, and every single hostel was completely booked and had zero vacancies. After awhile, two of us finally ended up with a room (I was one of them), and the other two of our party decided to rough it and pull an all-nighter wandering the pubs, internet cafes, and streets of Dublin which wouldn’t be too bad considering how safe it felt for the most part. After we were settled on that, we went out for dinner at a pub which, to my surprise and delight, was laid-back and had really great live music and singing for the last half hour we were there. I didn’t order anything because I was still filled from lunch, but I finally decided to try an Irish coffee, which I found out consisted of coffee and whiskey.

Eeeeeps! First time having hard liquor in my drink! Panic!!!

No. I was actually surprised at how delicious it tasted. It didn’t take too long until the whiskey made its presence known in the drink very prominently and boldly. Thankfully that forced me to drink it nice and slow, as I tend to drink a cup of coffee in 5 minutes time. I think I was able to stretch it out over 45 minutes time without completely finishing it. Once it got cold, it wasn’t very pleasant to drink. But I did finish about three-fourths of the drink. Not bad! After hanging out at the pub for about four hours, we went back to our Bed & Breakfast for the night.

Next morning was breakfast and a ride to the Dublin Heuston train station. From there, we headed off to Limerick, and from there transferred to Ennis. The whole time on the train was very delightful and relaxing. It was a great way to view the scenic countryside of Ireland, which was exactly what I’d come to see. We even spotted a rainbow over the greenery, and I could even see where it touched down. The train was a perfect choice of transportation for the best sights!



When we arrived to Ennis, we planned to take the next bus to Doolin, our end destination, but we were disheartened to find that the next bus to Doolin was not going to arrive until much later in the evening, and it was barely 2:40pm. Desperate, we found a couple of taxis next to the Ennis train station and asked for help. One of the guys finally took us to Doolin for about 15 euro per person, which is apparently a really good deal, based on the experience of the other students I had joined. This was my first time ever in a taxi cab, and it was a great first experience. The cab driver was a delightful man who craved conversation. When we didn’t talk, he talked. He asked plenty of questions and answered every last one of ours. The 30 minute drive was almost like a guided tour/history lesson of Ireland. He even drove slightly further than we needed to be in Doolin to show us some really gorgeous cliffs where massive waves would crash up against them, half the time splashing higher than the cliff, which I estimated to be maybe 100 feet tall, maybe more. He told us that this particular set of cliffs was exceptionally dangerous due to the fact that the waves would sometimes splash so high above the cliff that if you were too close, the water would get you and pull you over the edge, dooming you to drowning. As sad as that was to hear, it was just jaw dropping to see the waves exploding that high up against an already tall cliff. Just before dropping us off at our pre-booked hostel (yes, we wised up this time), the cabby connected us with a friend of his (also a cab driver) who also owned a pub there in Doolin, and he said that he could take us back to Ennis the next morning for 12,50 euro, a little less that what he was charging us. He even gave us his friend’s card and number and made sure we were all set to go before dropping us off at our hostel. Doolin, by the way, is a charmingly small town that has about three sections to it, with long stretches of road between the clumps of pubs and shops in each section. It was a very rural area which I started eyeing with great interest. Rural…peaceful…Irish…seaside nearby…hmmm. Don’t worry, I’m coming back!

We stayed at the Rainbow Hostel, which I HIGHLY recommend if you’re staying in Doolin. It was my first hostel ever, and I was exceedingly pleased. It was very cozy and warm with great rooms, and very large kitchen and an extremely nice staff. The guy who checked us in was particularly welcoming. He showed us around, made us feel right at home as if we were the only people in the hostel, and even offered us a lift to the Cliffs of Moher, (a 5-8 minute ride up the roads) which was precisely where we’d wanted to go. The only condition would be for us to walk ourselves back into town. It would be about a 2 hour walk. Sounded like a plan to us!

After settling in to our hostel, the guy drove us to the Cliffs of Moher, but not before pointing out a small but really awesome castle (looked like a kind of tower in the distance) on the way up the road (remember this castle-tower as it becomes important later), and a path that ran along the cliffs, which we could take on our way back and possibly save time instead of walking on the main road for 2 hours. The road he pointed out wasn’t complete, but by the way things looked, we would easily make it back into town in less time than the road would have taken us. After making a mental note of the place to get onto that scenic road, we visited the gorgeous Cliffs of Moher. These are unlike any seaside cliffs you’ll ever see. If you liked the ones from Capri, prepare to have your mind blown! The stone on the cliffs was considerably darker and less jagged, but still rugged, and the upper portions were covered with long, flowing, vivid green grass. You mustn’t come too close to the edge, as tempting as it can be sometimes, but when you can get close enough, the views are spectacular. Words can barely describe the cliffs’ majesty and awe-inspiring wonder. Many times, when I was close enough to the edge to see the long drop down toward the sea, I wondered how amazing it would be to sprout wings, leap off the edge of the cliffs in a thrilling nosedive, and just fly like the seagulls were doing. How epic that would be. Keep on dreaming…

After dozens of photos, singing Danny Boy while overlooking the cliffs and checking out the small castle-tower on the cliffs, we headed back to Doolin.


Cliffs of Moher

The walk was very windy and cold. As we proceeded down the long, winding road, we tried hitchhiking. Didn’t work. That’s probably because when you’re hitchhiking in Europe, you’re supposed to ring an invisible bell to indicate you need a ride, not “Gig ’em” because the Irish might not understand that. Anyway, after a good 20 minutes or so, we found the path the guy pointed out to us. Half of us were a little reluctant to take the road, but we finally made the decision to take it rather than go on the longer road we’d taken up. It was what UDers refer to as an “adventure”: going out and doing something exciting and unusual, regardless of the conditions. For the first half of that path, I’ll admit, it was great fun. In fact, I would equate it to a Lord of the Rings-esque kind of adventure, running along the path on the grassy cliffs overlooking the rolling waves. We even hummed a few bars from LOTR. An occasional fine drizzle would pass by, but we didn’t have to worry much about the rain, thankfully. The sights were really incredible!

The long road back

Now things turned rough when we began to loose daylight an hour and a half into the walk. We reached the end of that unfinished path and proceeded on the wider dirt path that continued onward before daylight went completely out, but because we were running out of light, some of the people in our party grew nervous that we wouldn’t be able to see where we were going, especially since we were nearing those dangerous cliffs with the rogue waves. They suggested cutting through one of the fields and climbing up the hill toward the main road. Half of us resisted for awhile, but we finally decided on doing it, especially since we could see the silhouette of the castle-tower from earlier up ahead and up the hill. As long as we could reach it, we would find the road, no matter how dark it became. We jumped the fence, and trust me, my conscience was going mad in crossing into private property, and made our way through the field, which we could barely see in the nearly complete darkness that there were cows in that field, off to our far left. And where there are cows, there might be a bull as we had seen a warning sign for another property a good 2 or 3 kilometers back or so. So far, so good. No bull. Then things went downhill…fast. Turns out the area of the field in which we walked was more akin to a marsh than a field. Within 50 steps into the field, we found ourselves struggling through tons of squishy mud with rainwater and…wait for it…manure! Yes, you read that right. Manure. The classic manure that never fails to yield gorgeous green fields. And we were knee deep in all this stuff! I literally lost my shoes five or six times in the attempts to get through that stuff as the suction of the mud and…that infernal stuff…was pretty strong if you didn’t work it right. I felt bad that people had to follow after me and fish my show out of the muck. At one point, I was so frustrated I almost gave up and decided to just ditch my shoes. But those were the only ones I had brought with me on the trip and it would be foolish to leave them behind in the cold. Stuck in the muck? Falling? Sorry lads, you’re going to have to catch yourself with your hands. YECH!!! Thankfully, after five minutes of horror, we moved out of the marshy area and found a highly unstable stone wall, marking the end of that field, but it was also lined with thorns. We balanced our way across the top of the wall for a few minutes until we could walk on the ground right up against it, away from the thorns, though a couple of us (myself included) became caught in the thorns and sustained a small cut or two. Once that dreadful wall was over, we decided to move back into the field we were in. The ground in this area looked far more promising, and either way, it was the only way we could go to get closer to the castle-tower. Wrong! More infernal muck and manure! At this point, I’d learned how to keep my shoes on and get myself unstuck without help, but it was the worst thing I’d ever done. If you know me and my tactile sensitivity (and it’s terribly strong), you’ll know that I was absolutely dying in that mess. It was all I could do to keep from screaming and scaring the nearby cows, who were probably looking at us like, “What the heck do these kids think they are?” But seriously, we were praying that there was no bull nearby, or we were toast. All of us were literally living out Dante’s inferno, the lowest most horrible place for anyone to be. It was cold, dark, wet and slightly rainy, mud and murk, manure, thorns, and we were all exhausted, hungry (we hadn’t even eaten lunch), dehydrated, and half our group was on minimal sleep from the night before. Dante got it right: the inferno IS cold.

As for me, God must have been having a field day, thinking, “Okay Kathleen, I’m going to save you from some of the horrors of Purgatory and give you some, shall we say, temporal punishment. I think I’ll have you walk through this.” I think I’ve been spared a few billion years from Purgatory after this experience. Out loud, several times, I begged my guardian angel to guide our footing and get us back to the main road. When we lost all daylight and could no longer see each other, I broke out into a Hail Mary. I repeated that prayer until I reached the place where I could hear our group forming back together on more solid ground next to a wall. One of the students said “What’s Europe’s 911 number?” (I don’t think they were kidding) and it rang a bell for another student, who pulled out his small phone, which thankfully provided us with some light to guide our footing. We didn’t call the fire squad or anything, but we were able to find the other part of the wall that stood between us and the faint silhouette of the castle-tower up the steep hill, which we still needed to climb. We started a rosary as we walked along the treacherous wall, almost pressing ourselves up against it to avoid the mud and manure as much as we could, and one of the students had her foot painfully lodged between two rocks a minute into the walk. Just as we were announcing the first joyful mystery, our first joy appeared to us: a break in the wall! We climbed through and started climbing up the steep hill which lacked muck and manure (THANK GOD!!!). The way was somewhat slippery, wet, and horribly tiring. Mount Purgatory from Dante.


This was pretty much all I could see when
we finally saw the lights of the city...blured with tears!

We’re getting somewhere! Then came the most glorious cry from the student who had reached the top first: “I found the road! We’re here!” It was enough to spur the rest of us onward and climb over our last hurdle, an electric wire fence. Carefully, we made our way over the fence, and once on the other side, we looked heavenward and found ourselves staring up at the realm of the stars. Dante’s Paradiso! In the darkness you could make out thousands upon thousands of gorgeous stars and even the milky way if you looked carefully. It was glorious! We were overjoyed. I was hysterical. I was laughing with joy and crying with relief. We all praised God for getting us out of that seemingly endless rut, which I think lasted a good 30-40 minutes. As we passed the castle-tower, we continued our rosary in thanksgiving, and myself continuing crying quietly. I was soooooo happy to be out of there.

It took us another half hour to get down the main road, into town and up to the front door of our hostel, equating to about 3 hours worth of walking. “I will NEVER stray from the main path ever again,” said I. We also couldn’t get in through the front door since we would track all that horror in with us and there were people sitting inside that front lobby, but I remembered from earlier that there was a side door to the hostel, which was next to some big mud carpets and was right beside our room. Asking my guardian angel for assistance and guidance, I went to check to see if it was open, although it seemed highly unlikely. I think my guardian angel unlocked the door for us because it opened. Later it was locked. Maybe a coincidence, maybe divine providence. Whatever the case, I’m just glad we made it in without spreading much “dirt” into the place. We showered right away. By the time we were done almost an hour later, it was about 9:40pm, but we were all very hungry.

We went to check out the local pubs for food, but they’d all stopped serving food at 9:30pm. We finally checked a small, cozy bistro and sat down. They’d already stopped serving food as well and this was the last night of their season (they would be closing down for the season), but the lady there didn’t want to send us away hungry (we probably looked exhausted and frazzled), so she offered some vegetable soup and brown bread with butter which we eagerly accepted. At this point, we didn’t care what we ate, we just needed sustenance. Soup sounded amazing though, especially when we were cold and tired. The bread and butter was fantastic, especially the butter, which is probably the best I’ve ever tasted. Then the generous bowl of vegetable soup was soothing, warming and incredibly delicious. We all ate quietly for awhile, casting knowing glances and grins at each other because we knew that this was EXACTLY what we were thinking about that we could be doing when we were going through the icky inferno of mud and manure. After a delicious dinner at a shockingly good price, we went back to the hostel. Taking turns, we rinsed our shoes and trousers of the filth. It turned out to be a long and arduous process. The tortures of tactile sensitivity continued for me as I cleaned out my impossible shoes. Thankfully, a cozy warm bed awaited me, and we crashed and burned warmly with relief at having such a nice place to stay.
Next morning we called the referred taxi guy and enjoyed some coffee and tea and freshly baked scones made by the staff. After thanking the people at Rainbow Hostel a dozen times over, we rode the 30 minute taxi ride up from Doolin to Ennis train station with yet another great cab driver. We caught an earlier train, thank God, but one of the girls and I had lost our train tickets for the return journey. Fortunately, since we had previously paid for the journey, we were allowed to ride up to Limerick and there we would have to get new tickets, which we did. Thank heavens for student discounts because the price could have been a lot worse. The ride from Limerick to Dublin was mostly studying for our Art & Arch midterm for Monday.

Once in Dublin (and didn’t arrive in time to catch any Mass, unfortunately), we ate lunch (which sufficed as dinner as well for me) at a sandwich place then went to check out Trinity Church and go see the famed Book of Kells. Besides the elated (and hysterical) crying upon reaching the starry road the night before, this was the one time I cried tears of wonder and joy. The glorious pages of the Book of Kells were right there, just on the other side of the glass, only inches away from me. Ever since I’d heard of its existence, I’d been wanting to see it. And now, the time had come. It was fantastic! All the legends and stories about the book--the dyes used, the illumination, the work that went into the details, and even Pangur Ban the cat...they were all real!
We also got to see the old library (which was apparently used in one of the Star Wars films for the Jedi archives). Pretty neat! Even better were the books that were displayed there, like the original Plutarch’s Lives! WOW!! And the bust sculptures lining the library included all the great historians, philosophers and writers, like Shakespeare, Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Milton, Newton, and so many others who made me want to high five everyone. What an exhilarating experience in less than an hours time. After the others went souvenir shopping for awhile, we boarded a the bus and headed back to the airport, I the impatient one, despising cutting the time close to departure. I was determined to be on time, even if I was the only one of our group to board the plane. The others said I just blasted through the airport as if with rockets or Mercury’s wings, leaving them far behind in the dust. See? I didn’t earn the nickname Sonic (the Hedgehog) for nothing. We all made it on time and had a safe flight back to Rome. The nighttime views flying over Rome were particularly magnificent. Way far off in the distance (like really far away) was a lightning storm (which arrived on campus almost 6 hours later), and down below were the sparkling lights of Rome. We were close enough so that I could see the Vatican, the Coliseum, and more!

Farewell, Ireland! Great Emerald of the sea.

I know I titled this as "Bliss and Disaster" and I think you'd agree. While there were some cloud nine moments, there were some cloud negative niners. Altogether, though, this will go down in history as one of the most memorable trips I’ve ever taken! I woke up this morning thinking back on it, and it felt more like a dream; a long beautiful dream mixed with occasional nightmares, but nevertheless an incredible dream. I will definitely go back to visit Ireland someday. Two and a half days simply isn’t enough.