Did You Know...

That Galway, according to my history professor, used to set its clocks 10 minutes later than Dublin? Apparently some still believe that is the case in Ireland...one of them is me. It's been nearly three weeks, so I need to catch you up.

First of all, I want to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving; so in the spirit of the day...

I'm thankful that on November 9th, two cottage-mates and I met 4 politicians from New England in a local pub in Spiddal and talked about everything from baseball and football, to Bob Dylan, to the changes that had recently taken place in our country. (I'm also thankful that these mid-fifty year old men felt generous enough to buy us two rounds--but that's beside the point.) It was a great night and we have some great stories to tell when we get back.

I'm thankful that we had the opportunity to travel to Cork, in southern Ireland, on a group excursion. It is a gorgeous city and the fall colors were in full swing--not nearly as good as Minnesota, but not bad none the less. This is my "senior picture" from just outside the Blarney Castle.


Did I kiss that stone? You better believe I did--I mean who really cares if rumor has it that the locals urinate on it. I'm still kickin' after two weeks, so I think I'm fine. Anyway, if you thought you couldn't stand my excessive talking before, now I ACTUALLY have the gift of gab so you better watch out come Christmas. We also walked around the University of Cork campus which reminded me a lot of St. John's, the place I am really excited to get back to again.

I'm also thankful for a great trip to London!

6 of us jumped the pond and spent 4 days with the queen, and despite the cold weather, we had a great time. Oh FYI, in case you ever go abroad and lose your passport, all you need to do is fork over $100 and probably cry a little at the embassy. That would've been my plan anyway, but one of the girls who went with us executed it to perfection after she left her passport on the plane getting into London. Needless to say, we were hoping that this incident was not a sign of things to come, and thankfully it was not. We saw the play "Wicked" which was incredible, and Monica, I actually did stay awake for the whole play this time! (Last time I was in London, visiting Monica, she thought I fell asleep during Les Miserables...twice. Actually, I was just so moved by the actors' performances I needed to hold back the tears by closing my eyes.) It was great trip that consisted of a lot sightseeing and tube-riding, but I was really excited to be back in Ireland in my cozy cottage in the country.

Finally, I'm thankful for this trip, which is now winding down. I have just 17 days left, and I'm going to make the most of them. We have our Thanksgiving day dinner and celebration tonight, and although it won't be like either of my Grandmas' meals, I hope it will try to compare. Well, I'm off to play some traditional Thanksgiving day American football down at the Gaelic football field.

Thanks to all of you who continue to read this, and I hope your holiday is full of food, fun, fellowship and family.

God bless,

Joe E.

An Unforgettable All Saints Day...

It all started on Friday, when I brought back a bulletin from the local Catholic church in Spiddal. Of course, it was in Irish so I asked J.P., the owner/maintenance man/bartender of the hotel if he could tell me, according to the bulletin, when All Saints Day mass was on Saturday. He looked it over and told me that it was at 11am. No problem, I thought.

It's about a half hour walk from our cottages at the hotel to the church in town. Oh, I forgot to mention that last week was the first time in 3 weeks that I went to a mass in my vernacular. I had previously been in Rome for a mass spoken in Italian, and then the week after that I went into Spiddal for the mass said in Irish. The great thing about the Catholic tradition is that it is catholic (universal). Although I might not know what is being said, the order of the mass does not change and allows me to participate, even if it's just in my head. But back to the story... (I told Laura this story through an email, so I'm hoping I can capture the same level of suspense...)

So, seven of us 20/21 year old American students set out to fulfill our obligation to this Holy Day. (I realized later that since it fell on a Saturday, it wasn't obligatory.) Most of us speak one word of Irish: "slainte" ("To your health!"). And that's because we've spent enough time in a pub or two. Anyway, I felt really good about the prospects of the day, seeing as it was sunny and skies were clear, which is a rarity around these parts. The church, as you can see, is relatively small and I would guess it maxes out at about 3 to 4 hundred people.

We filed into the sanctuary and slipped into the last pew of the 1st section. I'd say there were about 50 people in the section behind us. This is important, for a reason you will soon understand.

The pew was calling our names, as it fit the seven of us perfectly. This was also the pew that everyone walks behind in order to exit the church; this is also important. Have I built up the story enough? I hope you haven't stopped reading yet. As we all get into the pew, the opening song begins...and as I'm taking off my sweatshirt, noticing a good number of older people in attendance, Alex leans over to me and says, "I think this is a funeral." What? No. It can't be. I mean why would a Catholic church have a funeral at 11am on a Saturday? I'm an idiot. So, as some of us are hinting at getting the hell out of there to avoid any more awkwardness, my lovable roommate Kevin says, "I don't think it is." Of course, he was on the end, unwilling to let any of us sneak out. We also didn't want to make the situation worse by leaving with so many witnesses behind us. Sure enough, there sat the casket at the foot of the alter with the pallbearers nearby.

There is a song that was popular when I was younger that contained the lyric, "I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral." Well I guess now, so am I. It was really a surreal feeling accidentally attending a funeral, not understanding a word of the Irish, and not even knowing if the deceased was young or old, or even a man or a woman. I hope I got a chuckle or two out of some of you as well. And of course, the whole congregation exited right behind us, I'm sure wondering how we knew the wonderful man/woman. If none of this made you smile, maybe this will. As we walked out, Kevin turns to me and says, "Dude, I think we just crashed a funeral." Couldn't have said it better myself.

Wow...I need a Guinness.

When In Rome...Might As Well See the Pope

They gave us a break two weeks ago because they knew how hard we students were working and wanted to reward us. So, naturally we all went our separate ways and decided to see if the rest of Europe could handle us. Since I've always wanted to see Rome what better time than now to go, right? Kyle, Kelli, and I embarked on our journey, not really knowing what would happen; especially since I was conducting this crazy train. I must have fooled them enough so that they thought I knew what I was doing.

We planned on meeting a couple of my friends, Amy and Mike, who were studying in Rome, in St. Peter's Square sometime between 7 and 730 that night. It was almost creepy how perfect the day went for someone who has never really traveled. After a day of traveling, Kyle and I crashed...on the marble floor of Mike's apartment. Yep, we figured we saved around 200 euro, but by the end of the week, our backs were reminding us of the Eighth Amendment (That's the one about "cruel and unusual punishments.") But, we weren't about to let lack of sleep trip us up.

Kyle and my first priority was to explore St. Peter's Basilica which involved ascending 551 steps to the top of the dome. I don't think I'll ever forget my first impression of that amazing place.


There aren't enough adjectives to describe this place. Sunday night, I met up with 4 people from the London program who were also on break, and the five of us went to 530 mass at St. Peter's Basilica. It was absolutely incredible, and I didn't even feel bad about letting my eyes wonder during mass. (However, that may have been a result of not being able to understand Italian.) The last time I was that nervous to receive the Eucharist I was in second grade and that's because I was trying to avoid the camera man. I think part of my fear stemmed from the fact that there was a man the size of Shaq standing next to the priest distributing Communion. I think he was prepared to do some damage if anyone ran off with a Host.

Monday Kyle and I were busy, to say the least. We careened around the Colosseum, Roman Forum, and the Palatine. I didn't get to fight any lions in the Colosseum, but it's not difficult to imagine that happening a mere 1500 years ago in that very arena. It was pretty amazing for me to think about these mind-boggling architectural structures being so well preserved with a bustling modern city surrounding them.

Tuesday was the day we went to the Vatican Museum, and being as uninformed as I usually am, I learned that the Sistine Chapel is actually part of the Vatican Museum. Go figure. Why I admit stuff like this on this blog is beyond me; must be because I can't imagine anyone's reading it. Then again, Mom and Dad keep telling me otherwise. Anywho, Mike went with Kyle and me and explained some of the stuff he had learned in his art history class. He gave us some crazy statistic that he learned that if a person spent about 3 minutes looking at each piece of art in the Vatican Museum, he or she would be there the rest of his or her life. I didn't believe him at first, but then I began to realize the sheer magnitude of this place. We had been there for over an hour, moving at a steady rate, and Mike said, "Well, if we start walking now and don't stop to look at anything else, we'll be at the Sistine Chapel in about a half hour." What? We eventually made it and it was nothing short of amazing. Despite the hundreds of people that were in the same room, I easily felt like I was the only one there, peering up to the creation of Adam and that of Eve, truly astonished at how anyone could create anything that beautiful. We took a much needed and deserved 2 hour nap when we got back, and followed that up with a little (cheap) wine (what else?) and some political discussions. Right up my alley.

When I thought I couldn't top Monday and Tuesday, Rome reminded me that it had still more to offer...in the form of an 81 year old native of Germany. You guessed it, I saw the Pope! After stressing out a little because we didn't have tickets that everyone else seemed to have, we got in no problems, and were...well, pretty close as you can see. He is truly a rock star, and it was an experience unlike any other because I got to witness the myriad people from around the world. Some of us then met up with a couple priests from Minnesota that one of the guys from London knew. One of them lived in Rome for 9 years; so, let's just say he knew is way around St. Peter's and I think I learned more on the two hour tour than I have in any of my classes. (Sorry Mom and Dad.) I just wished I could have videotaped him so that I could study everything he told us. I mean, who knew that the Pope enters into the Basilica through an inconspicuous door behind the Pieta? He did, and now I do too. We affectionately named Wednesday, "Pope Day" and it didn't disappoint.

Thursday and Friday flew by and we visited a few more places of interest like the Spanish Steps. Did I mention that I think i gained a few pounds on that trip? Thankfully, Rome is rather accommodating for broke college students, because the pizza was cheap and so was the gelato. Gelato is kind of like ice cream, only much more addicting and, dare I say it, better tasting.

So, I did make it back without any big issues, and in my opinion it was a success because I made it back with all my limbs and at least a few euros to my name. I know what you're thinking, "Don't enjoy yourself too much over there, Joe, or you might not want to come back!" Actually, you're probably not thinking that. Either way, I miss a few of you and the rest of you I'm sure will grow on me again when I get back. That's a joke by the way. I'm not sure if I've nailed the whole sarcasm in writing thing. I might just sound like an ass. Oops, I can't say that can I? Of course I can it's my blog!!


Love you all, God Bless