One way to spend €28

As my last bus tour (on Inis Mor - remember?) was so very enriching, I decided to join the Newgrange/Boyne Valley tour run by Bus Eireann.
Our driver's name was John - but you could also call him "Your Grace" and make him very happy. After five minutes I knew that John must have been kidnapped some time ago. Those bad people must have implanted a huge bomb in his massive belly and warned him that it would go off if he ever stopped talking. And believe me: He took that threat very seriously.
Anyway, John wished us to say "yes, John" or "thank you, John" or "poor John", whenever there was the opportunity to do so. "Now, all together: "Yes, John!"" he kept saying, nodding encouragingly in the rear view mirror. I looked furtively for my earplugs. Hu?! The Americans in front of me happily obeyed John's wishes. "Yes, John", they roared, "we have understood, John", "thank you, Your Grace". Where had I ended up? Ok, maybe it was just their sense of humour. But what if... Oh my God - is this the reason why George the blinking Bush was reelected?!

We were given ample time to explore the visitor centre of Newgrange - one and a half hours! When I had read all the information plates forward and backward, and was just about to buy really silly things in the little gift shop (such as magnetic cookery books...) we were at last allowed to see the grave itself - and were kicked out after 10 minutes again. Yes, John, we are back. Yes, John, let's go and see the Hill of Tara.

The Hill of Tara is the mythological centre of Ireland. The king of Tara used to be the king of all Ireland. That's only fair, because it was bloody difficult to become king, believe me! Do you see that standing stone in the picture? This is the Lia Fáil, an important stone involved in the last task for a candidate who wished to be king. He had to drive his chariot so near the stone, that the stone would start screaming. Of course I was careful and did not touch the stone. What if it started shouting my name and I was the new Queen of Ireland?! Or wait... Queen of Ireland's Blog? Doesn't sound bad at all. And besides: a queen should have the power to dismiss a bus driver, right..?
Mmmh. John is going to keep his position, yes, John, yes. Bugger. Bloody stone, how dare you. Not even a whisper! Seems as if I had to find my vocation elsewhere. - Although: I keep telling me that the chariot had been missing after all. I'm sure that would have done the trick.

New quiz, new quote!

A glimps of academic life

Today I discovered that there is a wonderful path along the river to UL (that's short and cool for "University of Limerick"). Imagine me cycling over charming stone bridges and passing fishermen and swans - got it? Wow, I had totally forgotten that happiness could in fact also be found outside MIC. Limerick can be nice, even picturesque! All those dogs were a nuisance though. Next time I'll pretend to be an Irish train. If the dogs, however, then pretend to be Irish cows, I'll be stuck in a mess worse than the one after our hole-in-the-wall house party. Uah.

UL is no beauty, but still I was excited to be there. It was so great to feel a little bit intellectual again. MIC is nice, but honestly, how should one feel academic walking through corridors stuffed with flower pots?! In UL, there is also a real library - not comparable to this kind of "small village book sharing" of Mary I. I could have jumped high in the air: Norton Anthology of American Literature. Just saved CHF 90!

Now I'm off for 5 days - graduation days in MIC. And you know what they did today? They cleaned all the floors! They put impressive flower arrangements everywhere. And everyone is excited. The robes are prepared. Phew, as far as I remember, our BA ceremony was somewhat different. Why do I complain?! We had flowers, didn't we? Let me check. Ah, there it is. I knew I had this picture somewhere.

When Irish cows meet Irish trains (or is it "meat"?!)

I tell you: Not all cows and calves are as happy as the one you see in the picture. I mean, not all of them are so happy as to be alive! Today, one of my flatmates told me that on her way home last week, her train had slaughtered seven cows. Imagine the shock! Your train stops, you look out of the window... I'll spare you the details! I wish she had spared me too! Seven cows! That seems like an achievement for an Irish train, doesn't it?
The question wandering around in my head: What were these (soon to be) bloody cows doing on the tracks?!
And pray - what were those other cows doing on the motorway when I went to Galway last week?!

A chicken on the left, a donkey on the right

Late again, I KNOW! It's just that I'm awfully busy washing my clothes (by hand), shopping, cooking, walking to college, moving... Yes! Last week I moved again - into a room on the "quiet" side of my student village. That's what I thought at that time, at any rate. Now I know: there is no quiet side! Drunk people are a plague; they are everywhere. In addition I am facing now a nursery called Pebbled Pathways - Childcare with a difference. A very dear friend who came to see me (I will not name her, I will not name her, noooo, I will not name her:-)) thought that it was a nursery for handicapped children, but it really is the childcare that is considered to be different - not the children themselves! Indeed I assure you: these children are quite normal, they scream and cry as children everywhere else...

Yesterday I joined the international students on a trip to Inis Mor. We took the ferry from Galway and when we arrived on the island, we saw about 15 bus drivers fighting for tourists. So - you walk along the pier and all you hear is: Bus tour? Bus tour? Bus tour? Bus tour? At the same time you are stuffed with leaflets and brochures.
You see: these bus tours are highly recommendable - you learn an awful lot: "On the left hand side, we see a chicken, a chicken, yes. On the right hand side, there is one of the three Catholic churches on the island. We now pass two goats. There are three Catholic churches on the island. Three churches, yes. We now pass a house that is for sale." (That was for all the ones that did not see the enormous sign "for sale"). "Over there is water for the cattle, for the cattle, yes."
Let me see, yes, I'll prepare some pictures for you. By the way: There should be a comment button just below the article... Hit it and drop me a line :-)

New quote, new quiz.

SOS - Save our Slot

All I wanted was get some bread, but suddenly I stood in the middle of a crowd in Limerick city centre. Why did all those people look up to the sky and wave SOS posters?! My God, was Ireland secretly the island of the TV series LOST?! Are we all stranded? Or were they all waiting for aliens? Or was this a new form of prayer? Dear God, we are soooo unhappy, save us from our misery!
"It's time to stand up and save Shannon airport", someone roared from the stage I spotted now far in the distance. I took a closer look at the posters: "Save our slot"?! Wow, what a slogan.
If Shannon airport really brings such a lot of wealth to Limerick: why the hell does my bottom hurt so much from cycling on these roads?!

Fire alarm: important means to distinguish the Irish from the English

You don't exactly know the difference between the Irish and the English?
Here's someone trying to explain... :-) Tommy Tiernan!

!New TV programme: Irish Alive!

One could almost think that I had nothing to do....

I'm late, yes, but not Irish

"Has she become Irish?!" you might have thought yesterday when you didn't see my Sunday article, nor my quiz, nor my quote. No, I haven't! I just had some visitors to entertain and therefore no time to write. Besides: I'm not sure if I really should put a new quiz online. You see, I gave you this last quiz so that you would all say: Nooo, of course you do not look Russian. And what did you do...?!!
Last Saturday, I went on a 8 hour tour to the Burren region. Every hour we were kicked out of the bus and given some minutes to take pictures. Dear Richard's (the driver's) rule was:
If you are 2 minutes late you'll have to sing a song on the bus.
If you are 5 minutes late you'll have to sing a song and play a gig on the bus.
If you are more than 5 minutes late you'll have to sing a song and play a gig where the bus was standing some minutes ago.
Hahahahaaaaa. None of us laughed. Surprised? By the way: There you have a new quote and a new quiz. Don't expect me to sing a song though! No gigs either. I've prepared a film instead - have a look! Should give you an impression of the region.

I am still alive

For all the ones that got worried when they heard "Girl from Switzerland strangled in Ireland": It wasn't me! I'm fine.

Last night, one of my flatmates had a farewell party (after 2 weeks of living here..) and I really enjoyed it. Well - until they went to a nightclub and left me in this... awful mess!
I haven't told you anything about my flatmates so far and I was wondering why. Why?! Mmh, I guess I'm loosing distance. I actually like them. Yes, there really are people I like over here. I must have entered adaptation phase by now. You see, when we were welcomed at Mary I College, we were told that there were three phases every exchange student would live through: Honeymoon phase, frustration phase and adaptation phase. We were assured that this so-called honeymoon phase would last two, three weeks. As far as I remember it wasn't really a matter of weeks but... hours? "Frustration phase unfortunately might last several weeks." I see. I think this woman has never been abroad. Otherwise she'd know that this phase might last several months. Until recently I was frightened that it might never end at all!
Anyway, I had a great time at the party. And: When I opened my door the next morning, this huge hole was staring at me from the opposite wall! That hadn't been me!
Guess we'll need a lot of toothpaste. A lot!

Toothless but brilliant

Today, I was reminded that there had been something before our Computer Age, and that there are still some people left from that time. Very few indeed, this is why it is so exciting to meet one of them. No, I'm not talking about anyone from Typewriter Age, I'm thinking of an era that is even more ancient: Prof. Ó Duinn's Age, also known as Handwriting Age. In the picture above you see the hand-out we were given today. Isn't it fabulous?! I love it. In fact, I love everything about Prof. Ó Duinn. Well, you know what I mean. His white hair that reaches his chin and which he smoothes a hundred times every lecture. His yellowish jumper which he keeps pulling towards his knees. His friendly eyes which he closes so comically when he talks excitedly about the e-ncient Celts running into battles ne-ked (here he would raise his fist in the air) or driving their wonnderful war chariots. I am so proud that I have learnt to distinguish his English from his Irish, the first one sounding so much like the latter.
Still, Prof. Ó Duinn doesn't seem to impress everyone in the same way. When I left his first lecture, I thought: Wow, what a charismatic man.
My friend said: "Oh my God. What a poor, toothless creature!"

Please hit the picture to see the hand-out in greater detail.

Surrounded by "cross addicts"

One day, when I still lived in CityCampus, I walked along the street to the city centre. Suddenly, a car stopped next to me, the front passenger got out and made the sign of a cross. Huh?! Such an awful driver?! Was she glad that she had survived the trip? Curiously, I blinked at the woman still sitting on the driver's seat, just to see that she crossed herself too! So, did that mean that she wasn't very confident of her driving capabilities herself?
Some days later, an elderly woman crossed me when I was strolling along O'Connell Avenue and she too made the sign of a cross. Maybe I had been wrong! Was it all because of me?! Was I carrying the devil with me without even noticing? I looked over my shoulder. No.

Mmh... I think I have found the answer - some Irish people cross themselves whenever they pass a church. Some of the students at MIC do it when they go to classes and pass the chapel. Really weird. And so... I don't know. I mean - do you know how many churches there are in Limerick?! One at every corner. Now try to think of the consequences! This means that "good" Irish Catholics can never go on extensive shopping tours since one hand always needs to be free to get home safely!

NEW QUOTE, NEW QUIZ!

Of cyclists and nudists

Today was such a splendid day that I didn't go to college. Instead I took the bus to Kilkee. Happily we drove along, when suddenly... for heaven's sake - was that a cyclist?! A cyclist on the motorway?!
Kilkee is absolutely charming - just watch the pictures I have prepared for you. It might look similar to the Cliffs of Moher, but it's way better. There are hardly any tourists, there is a beach, and you can actually walk on the cliffs. Or I mean, I could have walked there if the way hadn't been blocked by a terribly severe looking woman. She wouldn't let me pass! What was the matter with her? I walked a little detour and then from higher up I could see that she was actually protecting something... no, someone - a naked man! The scene was hilarious, but if you are hoping now to see the poor creature: no, sorry, I'm not that cruel.
At the bus stop I met James-do-you-know-what-I mean. He was an eager talker, every other sentence being: "Do you know what I mean?" So, James told me everything about rugby, and you can imagine that this is exactly the topic I have always been most desperate to know more about. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN? When James asked me how Switzerland differed from Ireland, I answered: "It is a teeny bit drier and people are not that open." "How do you mean?" I mean that you and I would not be talking.