Into each life some rain must fall! Even ours. On Monday morning there was a rebellion by four of the students, who – without negotiating in advance – gave my colleague Dunstan a note saying they were staying in Galway and not going up to Derry in Northern Ireland. There were only two problems with that: first, that they tried to get a bunch of the other students to ‘rebel’ with them, and second, that they didn’t cancel their place in the hostel, and I was stuck with the bill. Then four other students announced that they weren’t going to Derry either (two had colds and two said they were broke). And guess what? I got stuck with their hostel bill as well. I paid $350 for the eight of them. I also lost a great deal of sleep over the last several nights, worrying about their health and safety, worrying over the $350 that we absolutely do not have to spare, and worrying about having to be the “bad cop” with people I like. I imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios that could take place upon our return to the Gleann. More about that in a minute (and, of course, it has a happy ending). Oh, and all three of us caught the National Cold, but we’re all fine now.

Here’s a fun thing: I had an article about our program published in the Donegal Democrat, a county newspaper. I did not write the headline: “Top USA University on study abroad semester in the Gleann!” Cary took one of the photos (of all the students up at the Tower right after they arrived), and I took another (of several students playing bodhrán drums). Anyway, the article includes entertaining scenarios of the students in their classes, explains the Irish Studies “programme” (Irish spelling) at Evergreen, and talks about Oideas Gael, the institute to which we are attached here. I liked the article, hated the headline (not one for the résumé!). Morgan read it and then discovered that I wrote it. “Wow, Mom! I thought a professional had written it!”

Anyway, we went off to Derry, the students arrived (exhausted) at the hostel, and discovered that it had moved outside the city walls and was now in the Bogside: the Catholic side of Derry. Last time (three years ago) we stayed at a hostel in Waterside, the Protestant side of the city. Cary and Morgan and I had many moments of panic trying to find out where everyone was, and eventually we got there and the tour guide found us all. His name is Declan, and he was raised in the Bogside and had friends and family members murdered in the Troubles. He was radically sectarian, of course, as all the tour guides in previous years have been, and students were grumbling among themselves about “fairness” and “balance.” (Many of them had been grumbling with each other, by the way, for the entire trip, and tempers were extremely high.) Meanwhile an absolute gale was blowing through the city (not much rain, fortunately), and many of the students were under prepared for the weather. I had my hood on, and the wind was howling so loudly through my ears that I could barely hear Declan, and I was standing nearby! The tour did not even go inside the city walls (the famous “walled city of Derry”? Nope.) but was exclusively about the Bogside, the memorials, and the extraordinary murals: You Are Now Entering Free Derry.

I did not feel unsafe once during this visit. In recent years the war has shifted to an uneasy truce, to outright engagement in peace talks. The day we were there was momentous one, with negotiators from both sides sharing a laugh that was widely reported in the papers. However, I’ve always felt more comfortable in the Bogside. I heard Irish being spoken and felt like there was a powerful sense of hope and renewal that was starting to become apparent. Declan was saying that there are many teenagers in the Bogside, and that massive efforts are underway to offer education and job opportunities to these people as they grow older so that Derry doesn’t turn into an unemployment wasteland. It was fascinating!

Our second day in Northern Ireland was considerably more cheerful, compared to the high tension of the day before (and the tour of the Bogside). We drove out to the Giants’ Causeway, a marvelous formation of hexagonal basalt columns at the edges of the ocean between Ireland and Scotland on the Antrim coast. It extends underwater all the way to Scotland! Each column is about sixteen inches across and you can climb all over them, all the way down to the ocean. We could actually see Scotland! On the way there we passed through a town that had red, blue, and white bands painted on the curbs, the lampposts, and elsewhere. That set of colors symbolizes to interested parties that This Is A Protestant Town and Catholics Are Not Welcome. I felt very unwelcome myself! The Giants’ Causeway, however, is non-sectarian. Even though the wind was howling, it didn’t rain at all there, people took brilliant photographs and had the chance to walk around for several hours, and everyone seemed quite cheery. Even the uncheery students didn’t look quite as uncheery as usual.

After a nice soup (chicken and leeks) with tea in the teahouse at the top of the hill (up from the Causeway), we drove to Carrick-a-Rede, where local fishermen have woven a rope bridge to a small island every spring for the past two hundred years. You walk on planks that are lashed to the ropes, and it swings about 95 feet above the sea. I’ve crossed it before, and it’s not that unnerving if you don’t look down! Morgan was a little anxious about it (she doesn’t care for heights) but she went right across and even stopped in the middle with me to wave at Cary for a picture. Once we got to the little island, wheeeeee! It’s a lovely nesting site for birds (gulls, guillemots, etc.) and we spent a long time watching the various nesting dramas. When we climbed to the top of the island we found deeply soft and spongy – bouncy – turf under long grass. You could flop in it. It wasn’t too wet, and people immediately flopped and bounced and slid and rolled. The wind was greatly diminished from how hard it had blown at the Causeway. Cary and I had a rare chance to hang out and chat with each other in private, which was really nice.

Back at the Giants’ Causeway, the bus in which the students ride developed a leak in the engine, and diesel fuel was pouring out on the roadway. He got the students to the rope bridge parking lot, and then drove off to go to a mechanic. We knew it would be some time before he returned, so we spent lots of time on the island, then came back across the bridge at about 5 pm and walked the half-mile to the parking lot. No bus. No communication, because none of our mobile phones had service (being in Northern Ireland instead of the Republic.) The nearest town was Ballintoy, which had a pub and a couple of restaurants, so Cary kindly ferried ALL the students there in groups of four (except those who chose to walk there). By the time he came back for me, all the students were ensconced in a restaurant, drinking beer and eating dinner, playing pool, laughing it up and having a glorious time. I borrowed a student’s phone (she had purchased it in Northern Ireland, so it worked) and managed to get reception by walking to the end of a deserted parking lot. My student had contacted the bus driver, who suggested that the students look into staying in a hostel in Ballintoy! Just imagine how that was received among the students! I found out after much wrangling and missed calls and terminated calls and messages that the bus had actually been repaired and was now a half hour away. Whew. I could finally breathe. Cary and Morgan and I took off, passing the bus on the way to Ballintoy, and had a nice small dinner in the town of Bushmills (where the distillery is – a self-proclaimed Protestant distillery and town). Nothing is free of political baggage in the North, even in this climate of change. I believe my delicious phyllo-wrapped goat cheese and caramelized red onion tart was less symbolic, however.

We came back to the Gleann on Wednesday, starting with a pleasant visit to the Grianán of Aileach, a circular stone fort that was the stronghold of the powerful O’Neill clan. Morgan recently read a book about this very family in this very location, so that was fun to be in the exact place. The Grianán is on a hilltop with views in every direction; it’s partially a defensive fortress, but it is also geared to the positions of the sun (grian = sun). It seems really compact, with outer wall about thirty feet high and interior levels with stone steps leading from one level to the next, but all my students were inside it and it looked like it could have fit two hundred more people easily. It had several interior chambers (which my students immediately piled into, of course) and it was eerie to hear their voices literally emanating from the walls. One of my students scaled it from the outside; I didn’t realize he was doing this until I saw his hands come up over the edge! I got one picture of him just coming up; he said “Now we know why the O’Neills lost.” When we got back to the Gleann we had a few minutes to check e-mail, for Morgan to visit “her” sheep, and to start thinking about packing before the bus arrived. And here’s the good news: all eight of the students for whose lodging I had to pay are, in fact, paying me back. I was happy to hear that. And the emotional difficulties seem to be softening already, if Thursday’s seminar was any indication.

I took Cary and Morgan to the Donegal airport first thing on Thursday morning (we were up at 5:30 am, out the door by 6:00, and checking in at the airport by 7:30; departure at 8:00 am). If you know anything about Bay Area geography, it was like living in Point Reyes Station and driving to an airport in the wine country by way of bad roads in San Francisco! The Donegal airport is nowhere near the town of Donegal; instead, it’s way north in a tiny fishing village (Carrickfinn) in remotest northwest County Donegal! Because of the events of the last few days, I just wanted to go home with them and have this be the last of the Ireland programs to do study abroad. I watched as they boarded a small propeller plane, and waved to Morgan at the window in the third row. I kept waving as they pulled away, and the plane took off in such a way that I could still see the third row window from the ground – so I kept waving! It was terribly sad to see them go; we’ve had such a fine visit here. Cary told me that they had a 29-hour day but that they got home okay by 2 am west coast time on Friday morning. I drove the hour and a half home to Gleann, then cleaned the house to within an inch of its life, did all the dishes and laundry, met with students, met with my teaching colleague, and had a seminar with them all. Then I went back to the airport for Guy and Antonio! Hooray! What a joy to see them again! Feels like I was just at their wedding!

The drive home from the airport was bouncy (being on bog roads and all), and when we stopped for a light dinner at the Highlands Hotel in Glenties, the kitchen had closed 15 minutes before. Nonetheless, they were able to serve us some soup and brown bread, which was both delicious and sustaining. The people at the hotel were very nice about it! In the booth next to us, people were switching back and forth between Irish and English; it’s an interesting combination. One time when Cary and Morgan and I were there six years ago, the entire group of musicians in the band Altan was having dinner at another table! No such luck this time, though; we came home and fell into bed at 12:30.

Guy and Antonio hiked up to the Tower on Friday in the morning; they followed signs and got there just fine, and came back ten minutes before I finished doing a language review for the two seminar groups. Perfect! We went to the Folk Village, a creation of Father McDyer, the radical priest who revitalized the town and helped stem the tide of emigration when the town and nation were having an absolute brain drain to England and the United States. The Folk Village includes a cottage from each of three different centuries, a schoolhouse, and several other buildings. One of its most chilling features is a very large soup pot that was used during the Famine (several full-sized sheep could easily fit inside, not that you would have seen much actual meat in a Famine soup pot). It’s a very impressive place in any case, and Margaret – the woman who has taught them to weave – is the manager of the Folk Village, and she took us all on the tour. I was interested to read on one of the displays that every marriage was considered a sign of hope in the Gleann; “marriages are on the increase these days” means good news. Several of my students were stunned to see how much Guy and I look alike. One of them pointed out that we even stand alike!

On Friday night the local theater troupe put on a play by John B. Keane, one of Ireland great playwrights of the 20th century. He is best known for writing the story “The Field” that was turned into a film of the same name; this play was “Many Young Men of Twenty,” and it was kind of a musical. We saw it, and enjoyed it very much; it deals with themes of emigration, marriage, childbirth out of wedlock, and small town Irish life. Two of the main characters were representing Eamon DeValera and Michael Collins’ opposing views on the direction of Ireland’s future. In the pub afterwards all the actors and the director (Sean Hanrahan) came in to celebrate. Sean offered to come and talk to the students about the play this coming week, which is great. I’ll look forward to that and I’m sure the students will be interested because it’ll add meaning and depth to what they observed in the play.

One of the highlights of Guy and Antonio’s visit has been the way that Antonio has woven himself immediately into the students’ circles. He and Guy both have made special efforts to get to know students’ names and backgrounds, and to share parts of themselves with the students. It’s been great for me too! The students see a part of me that they wouldn’t otherwise see (and nothing could prepare people for Antonio’s charisma anyway). By midnight on Friday night Antonio was in the center of a group of students, playing card games, singing songs with them, and holding forth on a variety of wildly entertaining topics. Although he doesn’t care for Guinness or beer in general, he found that the local hard cider is fine to drink (and therefore, he wasn’t left without a drink when everyone was ordering).

Yesterday (Saturday) we had an archaeology adventure! Led by Paddy O’Donovan, a man with degrees from Galway and Trinity in Dublin, we toured a number of interesting sites. One of them, called the clachan mór (big village) is a 5,500 year-old court tomb, with dolmens, a central ritual space (which Antonio suggested could be called a “circle of love”!), and even some very early art carved into the stone. It is a marvelous place, filled with meaning. We also saw standing stones, a whole row of dolmens (portal tombs), and a Spanish church. It started to rain after several hours – just at the end of the tour – and a number of students bailed (cold and hungry), but it was still a great adventure. We went off to the sweater place with two students, and Guy and Antonio each found an outstanding sweater that was flattering, not expensive, and looked exactly right. Guy’s has a broad v-neck and is blue and grey (grey on top, blue on the bottom) – the two colors of the sky here. Antonio’s is grey on the bottom and black on top, with a black band through the grey and a grey rolled collar. I love the way they look in them (not “Irish,” but perfectly suited to who they are). They will look great on their next visit to Yosemite.

My good friend Lillis Ó Laoire came yesterday afternoon to give a sean-nós singing lesson to the students last night. We had tea and cheese and brown bread before the class, and Lillis divided his time with the students between discussing the songs and regions of Ireland, and teaching them a gorgeous song called “Is Trua Nach Bhfuil Mé in Éirinn” (“it’s a shame that I am not in Ireland”). I love it. He worked hard on getting them to sing with confidence and to pronounce every word and phrase correctly and with the proper emphasis. It’s such a pleasure to watch an excellent teacher at work! What a skill! We came home briefly for dinner after the lesson, then went off to Biddy’s pub where there were two exceptionally good fiddlers playing local tunes (reels, barndances, mazurkas). The best thing (for me) was that every tune was being done at a reasonable tempo – you could hear each note – and it wasn’t a race to see who could get to the end of the tune sooner than the other. I was in heaven. And then one of my students sang, Lillis sang, I sang, more people sang. We spoke to local people, enjoyed the music, and the students were happy. It was a delightfully authentic pub experience not just for Guy and Antonio, but also for everyone in there.

Today (Sunday) was an entirely free day! Lillis stayed overnight and I made pancakes for breakfast (quite challenging not to work with one’s usual pan and stove!). It was very congenial and fun. Then Lillis went off north (where he had to be the discussant for a documentary film festival) and we jumped in the car and headed north as well. I was eager to find the Kilclooney dolmen, which Cary and Morgan had found a couple of weeks ago, and to explore the archaeology of the Gweebarra peninsula north of Ardara. We made our way to the visitor center at Kilclooney (closed, of course, because it was Sunday, but we weren’t expecting it to be open). We wandered around a bit, looking for a path or a sign or something, and finally asked directions from a man playing with his children at the center’s play structure. He pointed to a very unlikely grass path next to a house, but when we followed his instructions it was obvious that he was correct. We saw the same friendly little horse that Cary and Morgan had seen (along with a breathtakingly pregnant white mare), and saw the dolmen itself. What an impressive structure! A dolmen generally has two side stones and a back stone (flat, upright), capped with a large flat stone that extends over the side stones. The Kilclooney dolmen (bet it’s on the internet under Google images…) is one of the most impressive I’ve ever seen. First of all, it’s huge, and the capstone soars upward at a dramatic angle, making it look like a space ship taking off. A smaller flat stone behind it invites climbing, so we got up on top. You don’t even realize how tall it is until you’re on top. I’ve never been on top of a really big dolmen before! I had to ask myself whether it was sacrilegious to be climbing on it (and in fact, we had a conversation about it). Many local people climb on dolmens or otherwise “engage” with them physically (going inside, leaning on them, etc.). But nobody puts graffiti on them. That would be sacrilegious. There is reverence and respect, but there isn’t distance. I love the fact that they are usually out in someone’s field and all you have to do to see them is make sure the gate is closed.

We went off in search of Dúnfort (which translates as “fort fort”). The very nice man who owns the property kindly walked us (and his scruffy and friendly dog) to the top of the hill where we could see the fort – a perfectly symmetrical circular stone fort in the middle of a lake – and talked to us about the documentary he and the fort were in (“In Search of Ancient Ireland,” which I must order when I come home). Of course I offered to pay him for his troubles, and of course he refused – but at least the ritual was complete of offering/refusal. There was a strong wind so we couldn’t go out in a boat. We had lunch at a nice restaurant in Narin, and then went to Gweebarra in search of more prehistoric stone monuments; there were reputed to be half a dozen. Well! We didn’t find a single one, and we went exactly to where they were supposed to be on the map!! It was hilariously futile – by the time we were looking madly for the last one I almost hoped we wouldn’t see it just to complete the cycle. We might have actually seen the last one (a small dolmen) but who could tell?

We went to the big waterfall near Ardara, and by the time we came home we all fell soundly asleep for two hours. It was a rare nap for me, and this was the first chance I’ve had to have a nap since coming to Ireland; not like I ever get one at home either. And by the way, when we came home we found that someone had blessed the home (traditional this time in May) by tucking some wildflowers into the mail slot in our door. I’ve seen it on other people’s doors this time of the year, but that’s the first time it’s ever happened to me! This week felt like two complete weeks compiled into one, and I’m sure it feels like that for anyone still reading this!

The Morgan Report:

We went to Derry on Monday, and I didn’t like it. It was noisy and stinky and crowded, even when we were next to the river, which had its own noisy stinkiness about it. It reminded me of St. Petersburg except less so. We stayed in a nice motel in the center of town called the Travelodge. That day we had a city tour and went to dinner at the pub next door to our motel. I had a cheese sandwich, which is something that is very good around here.

The next day we went to the Giants’ Causeway, which is a natural basalt formation, which consists of hexagonal posts poking out of the ground. It was a very, very windy day! The Giants’ Causeway is located next to the ocean. I hopped from rock to rock with a bunch of the college students, and had a lot of fun. After that we went to the rope bridge, which is a rope bridge between a very tall island and the very tall mainland. It swings and bounces and is pretty scary. I was scared on the way there. On the island we had a whole lot of fun! The grass was very slidey, and there were no sheep, so there was no sheep poop. I slipped once on the grass while walking, and that gave me the idea that I could slide on my stomach down the hill, so I did! Pretty soon, two of my favorite students joined me. Then the third one joined me, who is a historian, and the last person I would expect to go sliding down the hill on his stomach! We had a lot of fun. On the way back over the rope bridge I was not as scared.

It turns out that there was something wrong with the bus that was transporting the students, so we waited an extra three hours while it was getting fixed. We all hung out in a pub and played pool and sang along to the music, and generally had a very fun time, after which we went back to Derry and went to bed. My bedtime was not quite 12:40, but it was somewhere in the area.

Today we went to a stone circle fort which had a cave inside the wall, which means some of the students went in too. It was very dark, but luckily I had forgotten to take the flashlight out of my pocket from the night of the bonfire. I am pleased that I forgot! Inside there was a passage big enough for somebody about the size of me, and sometimes smaller, but I squeezed through. Sometimes I could see out to where the students and my mom and dad were talking in the middle of the stone circle fort thing. The passage ended at a doorway, and we could watch people going in and coming out.

Today we also came home to the Gleann. My dad has definitely got the cold now, and was miserable. We came home at about 1:30, and I spent time taking movies of my favorite sheep so I could remember them. I did not get a movie of Einstein, however, and I regret that. After that I spent the whole rest of the day packing. I don’t want to leave the Gleann. I was not homesick throughout the entire trip. I am partly looking forward to school, but mostly I am not. I will tell about the flight later. From Morgan.