Rain, Rain, Go A-Bray

I’ve got three words for you: Steps, Freedom, and Rain. Three more: lots of it [all].

Champlain College’s Academic Center resides on Lower Leeson Street, a five minute walk from St. Stephen’s Green and a twenty to thirty minute walk from the student apartments. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday morning all kicked off the day with Orientation at the Academic Center. To be more accurate, they all truly began with a walk.

I’ve always been one who loves meandering about; and after spending close to three months indoors because of a harsh New England winter (sorry to drag those memories back), I’ve wanted nothing more since April than to be out as much as possible.

I did sigh a small breath of exasperation, though, when I was told that we were going to hate the walk for the first week or so.  But arriving at the Academic Center on Thursday after our first trip there was incredibly pleasant. The morning sun rose and shone on our herd of forty six and our Resident Director led the way through small local businesses opening their doors for the day; men and women cycling (which I have yet to do as well!) to work, and rows of Georgian-style buildings and residences. The sweater and jacket I had needed prior to leaving the apartments quickly came off. Despite paying little attention to where we were being taken—being in the middle of the pack gets you like that—I easily made my way there this morning with one of my roommates. You see familiar sights, you remember the islands in the street you need to cross to, and you carry on. It took very little thought on either of our parts to figure out where we were headed, which raised my fist into the air.

And while I definitely want to cycle to class, I’ve got to observe the bicycling world around me before I can confidently be on my way riding in the street and through the red-painted lanes that weave towards and away from the curb. No matter my mode of transportation, I will certainly mosey along happily to get where I’m going. Maybe the rain that comes and goes within two minutes of starting and the sun that comes when it pleases—when I’m not entirely prepared for it—will change that perception a little.

Orientation, in general, was informative and presented topics that have been talked about but with new circumstances, as we must now abide by Europe and its culture. Then, like the study abroad experience itself, we had chances to go out, explore, and touch the country we have begun to immerse ourselves in.  

On Thursday night, the group had a mingling hour and dinner with faculty.  We were brought to Church, a restaurant that was once a—you guessed it—church. Our evening began in the basement, decked out with modern booths and tables and dimly lit, where everyone ordered drinks and chatted. Faculty filtered in, but it wasn’t until we were moved upstairs that they were easy to spot. The guest faculty at our table was Steven McMahon, the professor teaching Writing in the City: Dublin which I am more than excited to take. He talked with us and asked our travel plans for the semester; and when questioned, gave us advice on different spots in Dublin and throughout Ireland to eat at or to visit. And when our food came, he passed around slivers of his fish and his lemon meringue pie for everyone to try a bit of (both of which were delicious).
Church’s upstairs dining, where we were all fortunate to be seated, still houses the church’s organ. Directly across from it, a stained glass window fills the open floor plan with light. Wine glasses line the darkly wooded half wall, backed by a small glass wall, and matching columns ran up to the ceiling which boasted of detailed and delicate designs. I was caught between staring at the intricacies around me, listening to the swell of patrons below, and adding to conversation until our food arrived.

For dinner I ordered their chicken with roasted potatoes and green beans. It was a dish that perfectly balanced comfort and class. And for dessert came a Bailey’s Irish Cream Cheese Cake. I was instantly hit with the light taste of coffee blended beautifully with a blueberry compote drizzle and a crumbly graham cracker bottom. My stomach thanked me one thousand times for the gift of that meal.

Stuffed and satisfied, many of us crossed Henry Street—a main shopping center in town—and browsed Penney’s. To let you in on a little secret, Penney’s is the BEST. Hands down. No questions asked. Floors of clothing for all occasions, accessories, and home goods for very little (most cardigans and sweaters that I saw were between eight and ten euro, and blankets were no more than six euro!). A haven for anyone looking for anything. I pride myself on being a bit frugal in my spending, but this will prove a bit of an obstacle once I’m needing (more like wanting) to update my wardrobe.

It was dusky when we stepped into the cool Dublin air, which, in the summer months, is around quarter past nine in the evening. The group of us walked along the River Liffey, and along that path passed a city glowing with life. But not life like the City that Never Sleeps: a city whose bridges connecting the north and south sides of Dublin glow with green underneath; whose centuries old domes and buildings illuminate with little light; whose streetlamps are the only thing we needed guiding us home. I couldn't help but stop for pictures, and to take a moment to breathe it all in. There's no need to pinch me--I'm not dreaming. I am living. I am living.

Friday brought us first to the Academic Center, then on an afternoon trip to Bray. A little city located about twelve miles from Dublin, Bray is located by the sea and exudes small-town outdoor life. Upon exiting the train, you’ll find the ocean to your left, and rows of homes and restaurants to your right. Located here is what Lonely Planet deemed the World’s Best Pub: the Harbour Bar. There wasn’t time to venture there, but I take their word for it.

A side street in Bray

Posing with Bray Head before the "storm"--little did I know!

 We did, however, get to hike up Bray Head. The director of the program pointed us in the direction of the hill, jutting into the sea and overlooking the water separating Ireland and England, and told us that we’d have to walk that way for the “little hike”, roughly a forty five minute climb up and a twenty five minute climb down. I think I mistook little for vertical, because that’s exactly what it was: a vertical climb up the hill. Dressed for rain in boots, jeans, and a lightweight long sleeved shirt, I was totally not prepared. The higher we climbed, the harder my breath came and the quicker I became cool with sweat. The view more than made up for it; and the girls that I climbed with and I all joked about how in shape we believed ourselves to be until we started the trek up. Then all went out the window.

Stopping to catch my breath and this glorious view

So close, yet so far away

The cross marking the top of the hill was our beacon of light as we hungrily lunged forward to make it over the hump (literally). And once I could breathe normally and feel anything that wasn’t overheated, I spun around and drank in the village below. It was built upon sheer glory. This was the Ireland of everyone’s dreams: roaming sheep, greenery swaying in the breeze that was much less violent below us, silence and peace. The head space to soak up the scenery into my veins and smile at the actual giant I had challenged and conquered. A few of us moved along to a hill resting beside the top of Bray Head, sat on the rocks and kept our hands at our sides, knowing that nothing would stop the wind from whipping our hair and cloaking our faces. The experience in total was breathtaking... literally.

An incredibly windblown, sweaty, and accomplished me

With that view, my complaints were no more

Bray was, to be clichéd, a magical look at rural Ireland. The afternoon ended with a quick trip to the beach, where we stuck our toes into the water and my body curled with the chill, and a dinner at the Porterhouse Inn. A chain throughout Ireland, the Porterhouse Inn offers a wide array of dishes, including one of the most delicious burgers with chips I have ever had. It was served with Irish bacon—slightly crisped slices of ham. A true delicacy.

The Porterhouse Inn

And to top of a head-spinning weekend of events, everyone participated in today’s Great Orientation Scavenger Hunt. We were placed in groups of five or so and sent into the city with a clipboard of clues. From a group photo with the “Stiletto in the Ghetto” to the napkin of a restaurant, we were left scrambling and competitive in our quest to win. Win or lose, the opportunity to wind our way through Dublin in new directions and to have some interactions with locals made it an awfully fun afternoon.

I know I did not address the rain much, but like the thing itself, it needs no explanation. It comes. It goes. It happens. A lot. But it happens. Not when I think it’s going to, but it comes anyways. For the next month’s reference, I’ll be dressing lighter when deciding to literally climb my way up. Mostly, I’ll just be prepared for anything that comes. Not everything—that would ruin the adventure!—but many things.

Today is a day of exploration before classes begin on Monday. In comes the study to the abroad that I’ve been enjoying so!

“The heart of an Irishman is nothing but his imagination.” –George Bernard Shaw