Now Entering Free Derry

Over the past couple weeks it's truly been difficult to find the time and energy to mentally analyze what I've been seeing in Northern Ireland.  Since my last post, I've left Belfast, and details have not come to those keeping count at home.  What I can say about Belfast was that it is a divided city.  It's divide is not necessarily the classic identification of 'Catholics vs. Protestants.'  Instead, it surrounds Nationalism vs. Unionism, flag-flying, marching, and music.  Since last winter, the issues surrounding the Belfast City Council to stop their daily flying of the Union flag erupted when the annual 'Protestant' marching season was abruptly ended by the city parade commission in July of this year.  As a result, West Belfast witnessed the formation of Camp Twaddell, where individuals wishing to see their annual July 12th parade finish its parade route through the Nationalist areas.  Since July, Twaddell has been the site of nightly protests, and a monetary strain on the taxpayers of Belfast to fund the numerous police forces present each evening. 

Unsurprisingly, walking along Twaddell Avenue and past the camp before Mass that Sunday was enough to give a real perspective of others who walk to the Holy Cross Church.  Where do they walk from?  What routes would they take?  What motivates them to still attend services at a church surrounded by "the other"?

Nonetheless, we made our way north to Corrymeela Reconciliation Center for the past weekend with side trips to Giant's Causeway, Bushmills Distillery, and the ruins of an ancient castle along the cliffs.  What an amazing experience that was!  The center itself overlooked the sea, nearby cliffs, Rathlin Island, and very distantly the Scottish Higlands.  The center, and our mentor Elizabeth, led us in discussion, yoga, art expression, and along the rocky beaches.  I found peace and beauty there, and some kind of a metaphoric guidance in seeing the lighthouses on R~ Island.  The water, the snails and kelp and creatures in the tide pools were beautifully colorful, and the skies were clear blue. 

A view of the Guild Hall from the defense walls of Derry.  In
the background, the Peace Bridge with its two white supports
connects the east and west banks of the River Foyle.  The
white building complex across the river is an old British Army
Barracks.  The Peace Bridge as a concept is welcomed by the
Derry townsfolk.

Now I am in Derry.  Or Derry/Londonderry.  Or Stroke City.  Whichever you prefer, I'm there, and after walking along the walls, into St. Columba's church, through the Bogside, and up the hills of the Walled City, I've come to love it. Our tourguide of the walls and some of the city itself gave us a fantastic background of the area.  He was an ex-political prisoner himself, and the personalized stories he shared with us were incredible.  He was honest.  He was repentant.  It was a combination of ownership of the past, as well as sorrow and bravery that I can scarce do justice in putting words to.  Through his stories, as well as those from others I've met along the way, I can sense that much research could be done here concerning political prisoners during The Troubles. I realize also that this would be a deeply emotional experience.  Either way, there is a story to be told about Derry.  I'd be honored to do my part in telling it.  It's been 24 hours since I've entered into this city, and I yearn to learn more.  It's going to be a valuable week in terms of finalizing my research proposal.  Perhaps one of those lighthouses from R~ Island will guide me along in writing that.

Slan agat -

Belfast

There's an undercurrent in Belfast, east, south, north or west, wherever you go.  The inner city area looks much like any metropolitan center.  It's when, however, you know the past of these areas and of these neighborhoods that soon it becomes clear that things are not quite as they seem.  It is an area of conflict.

Thus far, Belfast is a great place to explore.  The architecture, streets, people and venues are all fantastic!  However, there is a deep seeded political and religious background here that brings various issues to the community.  Where religion had divided (and in many cases continues to do so), politics continue to do so.  With a nine-party system in Northern Ireland, Nationalists, Social Democrats, Unionists, Democratic Unionists, and various others meet to create and reject policy.

While here, our student experience will include meeting with mediators, community members who had been part of paramilitary organizations, politicians, as well as more informal encounters with the colorful and deeply political views of cab-drivers, for instance.

Details to come -

Belfast City Hall at night.  It's outside this building the flag protests last winter seemed to have been sparked when the council decided to end the 365 day per year displaying of the Union flag. 

"As We Gather In This Chapel Here": Kilmainham Gaol in Pictures

 

The entryway to the Gaol, now museum operated by the OPW.  It's through here that visitors cross into the spaces previously inhabited by individuals incarcerated there.  They ranged from petty thieves who committed crime during the Great Famine to escape starvation (and receive even small rations of food while in jail), to bread thieves and murderers, political prisoners, men, women and children, sometimes in shared spaces.

A prison door along one of the main hallways.  The peep-holes at both the top and middle of the door allowed prison guards to shine lantern light into one, and peek through the other in order to check on the prisoner inside.





The chapel in which 1916 Republican Proclamation signatory, Joseph Plunkett married Grace Gifford just hours before his execution for taking part in the Easter Rising.  During the Irish Civil War, Grace Gifford took part in the struggle, and was incarcerated at one point in Kilmainham Gaol.

"Beware of the risen people that have harried and held; Ye that have bullied and bribed..." -The Rebel (Patrick Pearse)



The cell in which Patrick Pearse, headmaster turned political revolutionary, spent his final hours before his execution for involvement in the Easter Rising.




The spot that those charged with responsibility for the Easter Rising were executed by firing squad.  All but James Connolly were executed here: his took place just opposite in the yard next to the large doors.  His wounds had grown gangrenous by the time of his execution date, and so he could not walk.  A place near to the door was simply more convenient for the ambulance driver and the prison guards.



The sculpture across the street from Kilmainham Gaol includes fourteen of these ghostly figures standing in a semicircle around a bronzed plaque of the 1916 Proclamation.  Entitled "Proclamation," the piece hauntingly depicts these figures, blindfolded, riddled with 'bullet holes,' and some with faces turned to the sky.

 

The photos here are barely expressive enough to show the journey that visiting this site brought me.  The "Proclamation" still is in the back of my mind, and walking into Pearse's cell was unforgettable.  The location brought me an absolute and utter appreciation for the power of place, as my NPS family would call it. 

Perhaps one element that fascinated me with the place was that I had studied the Rising back at my home institution, Gettysburg College, and have become well known among my group for my appreciation of Patrick Pearse, and finally the simple fact that I had nearly grown up with the song "Grace" by the Wolfetones.  The song taught me the story of those charged with inciting the Rising, and especially the story of Joseph and Grace.  History made legend in song, perhaps?  Listen here and decide for yourself!

Even after the first visit, I couldn't stay away, and dragged a classmate along with me.  The individuals, their stories, and the indescribable feeling of walking those halls is something I'm still piecing together, honestly.  What it means now, I have a small understanding of. What it will mean by December, I hope I will have the ability to define.  Until then, however, I await epiphany, as well as an adventure during my time here in Belfast and Northern Ireland for the next couple weeks.

Next time - an update on Belfast, thoughts on religion, flags, marching, and identity.  

Back from an Excursion in Mayo (God Help Us)

Upon reaching the three week mark in Ireland, Dublin has become a familiar place. Street names and landmarks still hold a wonder in us, but now we know the places by both name and by legacy.

All that changed, as once again, we were brought to a new and unfamiliar place.  County Mayo.  Our studies included discussion of the environmental issues in Mayo, but nothing could have prepared me for feeling so connected to the various issues at hand.  Sure, being from the Pittsburgh area, the current debates on allowing hydro-frakking near residential areas (or at all) is a contentious issue.  The involvement and passion, however, of the various community members in Parish Erris of County Mayo was inspiring.  As a group, we met with a wide range of individuals involved in the issue: a petite female schoolteacher who went on hunger strike until the pipe-laying ship left Irish territorial waters ("The Solitaire"), a fisherman who protested the presence of such vessels in the waters that ensured him his livelihood, a man arrested merely for questioning and standing against the introduction of Shell to the community (one of the "Rossport Five"), and others who understood the power of Mayo as a place - their homes, their community, their family, and the legacy of generations of being of that land.  A meeting with public relations representatives from Shell gave us insight as to the corporate view of the installation of the Corrib Pipeline in the contested community.  It was frustrating even as an outsider coming into the community for a brief time to take in some of the blatantly illegal activities done by Shell, as well as the confiscation of personal agency of the community itself.  With the permission of the Irish state, Shell had free reign, and people have, and are willing to continue, to protest those very actions.  Where court and law should have been on the side of the people, instead, it sided with the corporation and with money.  SHELL OUT, as some in Mayo might say.

Even after meeting these community memebers, and representations of various aspects of the protests, development, and concerns, it was clear that one week in this area of Mayo was not nearly enough to understand the issues at hand.  I felt quite upset actually knowing that I would be leaving there, and that the issues surrounding the area that I had followed and learned about in so much detail for that small bit of time had no end in sight.  I will leave, the topics of study will change, but the issues in Mayo will continue.  This is in no way an attempt at unfulfilled, pathetic attempt at an ego-centric statement, either.  I truly felt connected to the people and the place - the land - and it was difficult to leave the natural beauty of the place.  What's more, the difficulty was intensified by the notion that this natural beauty was deeply endangered.

While there, however, we had a great 10k Atlantic Cliffside hike, heard the roar of the sea, filed through peat bogs, and saw some of the greenest and misty hillsides imaginable.  Later, a walk along the beach and under the watchful eye of Shell surveilence cameras brought us nearer to - and in some instances, in - the water and the landscape that was being threatened by development.

It was a whirlwind experience, and one I will not soon forget.  A lot of that, honestly, goes because of my time with the National Park Service.  It's there I learned about, understood, and found the most invaluable notion dealing with place, that being the power of place. 

In leaving Mayo, our transport passed by a monument on the side of the road, sitting at the foot of the high hills behind, in the golden fields of early fall.  It was explained to us by our program director that this was a statue of a woman waving goodbye.  During the time of the Great Famine, or in other hard times in Irish history, emigration was common (and to an extent, still is for economic reasons).  When an individual, typically a young person, left County Mayo, they would travel out along the road we now were on.  A line of neighbors, family, and well-wishers would walk the to-be-emigrant to that point - right to where that statue now stood.  It was there that families parted, mothers watched daughters and sons continue on a road that would take them far from home and to a new life. For most, this was the last time they would see one another.  That notion of leaving overwhelmed me.  First, the immigrant story is very dear to my own family history, and I couldn't help but think of my grandparents, etc., who left their homes, and boarded ships to come and seek out a new life.  Secondly, I was leaving Mayo, like so many had before, travelling along the same road, heading towards the next chapter in a sense.  It was truly overwhelming, and testament to a beautiful connection to Mayo, its nature, growing with my classmates, and commemorating the stories of the people met along the way.

Until next time, and a (two) Kilmainham Gaol visit(s)- slán abaile.

Departures, Arrivals, & Fáilte go Éirinn

After approximately 20 hours of waiting in airports and flying, finally the misty morning hills surrounding Dublin Airport (Aerfort Bhaile Átha Cliath) came into view.  Finally, after months of preparation, I had landed in Ireland, and my journey was about to begin. 

Upon making my way into the terminal and finding baggage pickup, I was surprised and delighted to find that every sign and most advertisements were not merely in English, but also in Irish.  Quickly I tried to use the simple phrases of introduction and common words to understand what they said, but within about 35 seconds I realized that there obviously was much more to learn of Gaeilge.  This is one of my goals - sign reading in Irish.  (That will be more difficult than it sounds, because pronunciation of such is a whole other application, but that's for later, I suppose.)

Now it was time to find the other students from the program, School for International Training, or S.I.T. for short, as well as the Academic Director.  After some brief introductions, and seemingly compatible friendships began to emerge, we were taken away by way of Kevin the taxi driver to Knockree Youth Hostel south of Dublin along the Wicklow Way (County Wicklow).  This was to be the site of our Orientation Week activities.  Through the twisting, and winding, and constantly narrowing road, no overhanging tree or bush was safe from hitting into our sprinter vehicle.  Finally, upon coming to a clearing, we saw the hostel for the first time, and were pleased.  Let the adventures begin, and what wonderful adventures we would have with such a backdrop to our introduction to lovely Ireland. 

Through various sessions discussing host families, program rules, team-building exercises, and impromptu hikes through the paths that wind their way around the land surrounding the hostel, we all felt we had come upon a good understanding of the lay of the land, how to avoid bogs, and that one must firmly grasp a nettle plant to avoid its sting.  Little did we realize that Thursday's short excursion to Glendalough would truly open our eyes to Ireland in a new way.

Our interpreter at the site was absolutely fantastic, and as we expected, he gave us the history of the ancient monastic city that lay in ruins before us.  What we gained by the end of the experience, however, was much deeper in meaning.  The interpreter called on us to recognize the energy and the natural beauty of Glendalough, and in a sense to join him on what was to become more of a spiritual pilgrimage rather than a day trip.  The demographics, religiously speaking, of the group vary immensely, including Catholics, Protestants, agnostics, a Catholic raised by a Methodist preacher, and others.  The amazing thing was that even in the discussion of St. Kevin and his closest friend, St. Ciernan, it wasn't the religious intonations that spoke to us, but the idea of the Celtic idea of the anamchara, or the "soul friend."  Further still, it wasn't the love of a pagan belief that nearly brought us to tears in acknowledging the beauty of the valley of the two lakes (literal translation of gleann dá loch), or the landscape as being the Celtic Mother Earth, known better as Cathleen Ní Houlihan.  The interpreter was right - the trip had become a pilgrimage.  Each of us walked away with something more that afternoon than we had entered with, and though I'm not entirely sure what that "something" is, it most definitely brought us closer together.

The final day of Orientation was at the Glencree Center for Reconciliation, also in County Wicklow.  This location, with a long history of having been a former British Army barracks to discourage rebellion in the mountain-rebels of the area, a school for German orphans post-WWII, and finally as a reconciliation center for those involved in the violence in Ireland.  Folks who seek reconciliation and closure at the site include both victims and former combatants - families who had lost loved ones, loyalists, former IRA members, and various others seek peace at Glencree.  It is striking to think of the hundreds of individuals, their stories, their fears and anxieties, hopes and losses, each specific to that individual's understanding of the world and the violence they had experienced.  Each of these people, each of their stories, come to Glencree, and perhaps will sit in the same room with those who had long ago victimized the survivor.  That alone is complicated to process...  With that to ponder, we moved in with our host families that evening, and I must say that mine is just a lovely bunch of people with a fantastic sense of humor, absolute kindness, and the patience to introduce me to the Gaelic Athletic Association game rules.  They truly are going to make the semester just lovely!

With the end of Orientation, however, came the weekend, and with that came the freedom to explore Dublin for the first time.  As we were making our way down through the streets, a reenactment of the 1913 Dublin Lockout took shape out front of the GPO (the post office building typically associated with the events of the Easter Uprising/1916 Rebellion).  As much as it was a nod to historical events, it was also a rally for the Socialist Workers Party of Ireland because, as the leaflet reads, "The Irish state  and its allies in the corporate sector - remain as hostile to real trade unionism as they were in Larkin's day."  Larkin refers to Jim Larkin, who in 1913 staged  a lockout with the help of trade unionists of Dublin.  I found it interesting that Irish President Michael Higgins was there to help in the commemoration - perhaps because the 1913 Lockout was something of a gesture against the state?  But nonetheless, mine is merely to wonder why - and perhaps to attend the 4 September public meeting at Brannigans Pub to see what this is all about, really.  It seems like an interesting (and common) use of history for a modern political message.  More on that later, perhaps.

Also during the weekend, I decided to branch off from the group.  Instead of what I'm sure was a lovely time at a local mall, I headed down the road about a 20 minute distance towards a neighborhood green called St. Enda's Park, or Páirc Naomh Éanna (see here for more).  The site itself includes the ruins of the old Rathfarnham Hermitage, as well as a more intact set of buildings that had once been the home and school ran by bothers Padraig and Willie Pearse.  Padraig, known for having been a leader in the 1916 Uprising, was quite the focus throughout the museum - and rightly so I should say.  Pearse continues to come up in my readings, and quick  jaunts around Dublin, and must say has become a new focus of mine.  I had known of his love of the Irish language, and his quote to inspire his countrymen to learn the language, warning that "a country without a language is a country without a soul."  The detail and effectiveness of the Pearse Museum (Músaem na bPiarsach) though, was incredible.  I left the place feeling as though I had just visited with my good friend, Mr. Pearse, and do hope to call on him again soon.


With that my first week in Dublin had largely ended (with a fantastic win from the Dublin GAA team GO DUBS ÁTH CLITHA!) and another just began.  To see what this week brings, and the (mis)adventures that follow, be sure to check in soon!  Until then, slán, agus go raibh maith agat!

Welcome! & The Time Is Near!

Dia Duit!  Hello!  For those who decide to join me in my adventures by following this blog, I thank you! (Go raibh maith agat!)  I'm excited to get started here, in my studies abroad, and to share my experiences here for anyone contemplating to study abroad in the future.  For now, however, there's still a long way to go - even if my plane departure is only 5 days away.

Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Val Merlina, I am a rising senior at Gettysburg College, majoring in history, with minors in both Civil War Era Studies, and Peace & Justice Studies.  I've come to call Gettysburg home for the past three years, but in preparing in hopes of studying law, and foreign affairs, I found that an opportunity to study abroad simply could not be passed over.  Therefore, for approximately the next four months, I will blog here about not only my studies in Ireland, but also some photos, opinions, etc., in hopes that it will be entertaining or informative.  Perhaps even both!  This is fall semester 2013 in Ireland - Autumn in Éirinn.

My program, SIT Study Abroad, Ireland: Social and Political Transformation, takes students not only to a foreign country, but allows them to become completely immersed in culture.  [If you would prefer program information and details before I can blog about them, check out SIT Dublin's page here for more information!]  Through this program, we will be staying with different host families near Dublin, and will attend classes in the city.  Lecturers from Trinity College, Queens University, University of Ulster will serve as our professors, and trips to various locations in both the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland will serve as our classrooms.  Orientation week includes hiking along the Wicklow Way, and honestly, is there a more fantastic way to begin?

To prepare for what's in store, I've been reading books concerning various social issues in Ireland, as well as watching some suggested films.  On top of it all, I decided to teach myself some conversational Irish, which I will most likely pepper in throughout this blog.  It's a gorgeous language, and unlike anything I have ever studied.  The fact that a new generation in Ireland (and around the world) is attempting to learn Irish pays tribute to those who refused to give up their language despite conflict.  I'm excited to learn more of the language, and as a play on Padraig Pearse's thoughts on the matter, to learn more of the soul of Ireland itself.  "A country without a language is a country without a soul," Pearse wrote.  Despite it all, Ireland appears clearly to have both of those.

Until then, I await departure in my hometown just outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  With a destination over 3,000 miles away from home, and it being my first time flying out of country, the excitement is mounting, and I am quite ready for some adventure.  Nonetheless, allow me again to welcome you to my blog, Autumn in Eirinn.  I appreciate you coming along!  Fáilte mo chara!  Welcome, my friend!

Until next time-


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What I've Been Reading/Watching (in no particular order):

Nonfiction

• McKittrick, David and David McVeigh.  Making Sense of the Troubles, Penguin U.K., 2001.
• English, Richard. Armed Struggle: The History of the IRA. Pan Books, 2004.
• O’Connor, Fionnuala. In Search of A State: Catholics in Northern Ireland. Chester Springs, PA: Dufour Editions, Inc., 1995.
• The Dynamics of Conflict in Northern Ireland. Ruane, Jennifer and Joseph Todd, Cambridge UK : Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Fiction (more to come)

• Deane, Seamus. Reading in the Dark. New York, NY: Random House, 1998.
• Taylor, Patrick.  An Irish Country Doctor.  Macmillan, 1997.

Movies

• The Wind that Shakes the Barley

  

  
  

• The Boxer
• Michael Collins
• 50 Dead Men Walking
• Omagh
• The General
• The Field
• Billy Elliot (soundtrack)
• Once