January 26th

Day Two: Orientation and Bus Tour

Negligent of the sleep our bodies undoubtedly needed, the second morning was an early rise. Knowing that we had orientation and had not yet located the whereabouts of our school, I think it was safe to say we all were a bit anxious about navigation. However, using our cumulative wit (and trusty google maps), we made easy work of the one-ways, river walks, tram rails, and winding roads, until we arrived at a building sandwiched between coffee shops and bakeries. I am almost certain I heard both my mother and wallet sigh simultaneously at this discovery. I, however, could not be more thrilled. 

After four flights of stairs, we arrived windlessly to a hallway. Looking into one of the rooms, we were met once again with a smiling face, “Céad Míle Fáilte”, and gestured to file into the room. 

A quick introduction ensued, followed by a rundown of what the semester was going to look like and what to expect. We met some of our teachers, asked a few questions, and before we knew it, were off to have lunch at a hipster-esc restaurant around the corner. 

Helping myself to avocado toast, I met new people, talked with one of our Dublin-native advisors about his life (mostly his friendship with the Irish Prime Minister, who is the first openly gay Taoiseach of Ireland) and the Ireland election coming up, then made my way outside to the bus stop for our bus tour. 

We drove by the Spire of Dublin, the IMMA (Irish Museum of Modern Art), the National Museum, the Dublin Zoo, the Guinness Distillery, Jameson Distillery, the Samuel Beckett Bridge (more commonly known as the Harp Bridge that was erected during a time of economic growth), the Garden of Remembrance and Children of Lir statue (that was visited by Queen Elizabeth II, to pay homage to Irish soldiers in WWI in 1998, which was a gesture of reconciliation and goodwill), learned a brief history about O’Connell street during the failed rebellion from 1916-1921 (led by Patrick Peirce), and made a stop at the Papal Cross in Phoenix Park where over one million people joined the Pope on a field of grass for a Catholic service in 1979. 

It was an incredibly thorough and informative ride. Seeing the city from a bus, as one might imagine, was also very different than seeing it on foot. It made it easier to grasp how intricate and interwoven Dublin is to the places I am used to, but it also made the act of exploring it much more tangible. 

Though it had already seemed like a fulfilling enough day, my roomies and I felt that we could not miss the Gaelic Football face-off of the season. Dublin vs. Kerry (Cork), Dublin being the returning champ 5 years in a row. So, without a moment’s hesitation or a concern for the rules of the game, we purchased our tickets in the standing bleachers and walked the 50+ minutes to the stadium. Running into crowds, dead ends, and some sexually aroused homeless men, we eventually found our way to the ticket collection and into the stadium. 

Unbeknownst to them, one of our friends bought a premiere ticket so they were seated in a section by themselves and closer to the field. But the rest of the group, myself included, enjoyed our nosebleed “seats”, at the tippy top of the stadium, in the chilling high wind, engulfed in Irish slander and exclamation. It was entertaining, to say the least.

At one point, I explained to the man next to me (who had given our misfitted group a sideways glance) that this was the first game my friends and I had been to. I then asked him if he had any tips for understanding the game. “Tips?” He replied hoarsely. “Just watch it!”. 

It’s safe to say that I took his advice. And that I did not bother him again. 

As I understood it, the game plays 15 v 15, one of which is a goalie. There is a field post like you would see in football and there is a soccer net. If you scored through the posts, you would be awarded one point, achieving this by kicking or throwing the ball. If you scored through the net, you would get three points, but you could only do this by kicking the ball, which made it more difficult. As far as the lines on the field went, I would say they were somewhere between a mix of soccer and basketball marks. You could throw the ball to one another, kick it to one another, and carry the ball for five steps at a time before you had to touch it to the ground or to your foot.

There were rules about tackling and penalty kicks that I did not quite understand, but otherwise, I felt competent at understanding the game. Despite the desolate temperature, it was an exciting experience. Even when my fingers went numb, the cheering that shook the stadium was more than enough to keep me on my feet in roaring support.

It was not until halftime that my roaring stomach called me away from the game and in pursuit of food.  Three others conquered. We promptly left, meeting a cross guard on our way back to Swuites (who was very keen on knowing our opinion on Trump), and after over an hour or so of wandering aimlessly through neighborhoods and darkly lit city streets, we stumbled into St. Patrick’s Cathedral. At this point we admitted defeat. 

We had no idea where we were. 

But, whether it was by stroke of luck or our silent prayers to St. Patrick, we eventually recognized a building. Our tired feet carried us back to our rooms where we happily crashed and awaited the next days’ adventures.